Lilya was cleaning the house when Ruslan returned from work. He headed straight for the kitchen and, without even looking around, snapped, «What did you spill here? Look at how filthy this floor is.»
«I just mopped it,» she replied calmly.
«Yeah, I can see how well you ‘mopped’ it,» he grumbled.
With a sour expression, Ruslan served himself some meatballs, took his plate, and went to sit in front of the TV. Suddenly, something in Lilya snapped. Quietly but firmly, she said, «That’s it. I can’t do this anymore.»
She started packing a bag while Ruslan just stared at her, bewildered, not understanding what was happening.
Lilya hadn’t slept in three days. Day and night had blurred into one endless cycle of exhaustion. She woke up almost every hour to check on her son’s crib; she’d barely lay back down before she had to get up again. By the morning of the third night, her strength finally failed her, and she fell asleep right next to the crib.
She was jolted awake by her husband’s irritated voice: «Lilya, what am I supposed to take to work? Where’s the container for the soup?»
She stood up carefully, trying not to wake Denis. Her whole body was stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position. Ruslan gave a small, mocking smirk at her disheveled appearance.
«I spent the whole night up with the baby!» she burst out, unable to hold back. «You could at least ask how we’re doing. Or help out in the evening instead of just sitting there playing your games.»
«I’m exhausted after work!» he shot back. «Can’t I have a little peace at home? Just sleep during the day—you have plenty of time.»
«How am I supposed to sleep? I have to take him for walks, I have to cook dinner for you! The second you walk in the door, you’re asking for food!»
«Is it really that hard to boil some potatoes or fry some sausages? Why do you have to make everything so complicated? Fine, maybe I’ll just quit my job and help you out. But then who’s going to pay the mortgage?»
«You can’t even pour yourself a bowl of soup! You just had to wake me up!»
«Enough, Lilya! Do you always have to start a fight? Fine, I’ll go without lunch if it’s such a burden for you.»
He slammed the door and left. Lilya felt a heavy, bitter ache in her chest, but she didn’t even have the energy for tears. She walked slowly to the bathroom and looked in the mirror: a gray complexion, dark circles, bloodshot eyes, a messy bun, and wrinkled pajamas.
«I look a hundred years old,» she thought bitterly.
She sat on the edge of the tub, leaning against the sink. Her thoughts were racing, snowballing out of control. How did it come to this? I used to be happy, beautiful… Ruslan loved me, he was gentle. We had real love. We wanted this baby. And now? I can’t even leave—Denis shouldn’t grow up without a father.
Hearing a soft sound from the other room, she rushed to her son. The baby was smiling in his sleep. «My sweet boy…»
She needed to wash up, get it together, and get back to work. The day flew by in a blur of walks, grocery shopping, and chores. Lilya finally put Denis down, but he immediately started crying. She picked him up again, laid him down beside her, and nursed him, fighting to stay awake. Once he finally drifted off, she quietly got up to start dinner.
She was terrified of making a sound that might wake him, whispering to herself as she worked: «Why did we move to this city? There’s no one here to help… and Ruslan has become a stranger.»
She used to dream of going for walks with him, laughing, living a lighthearted life. Now, she couldn’t even find a moment of peace for herself.
She quickly wiped the floor, started the laundry, and decided to wash her hair before he got back. But just as she lathered her hair, the baby started crying. She scrambled to rinse out the shampoo and ran to her son, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her.
At that moment, Ruslan walked in. Without saying hello, he walked into the kitchen, stepped in the water, stripped off his wet socks, and tossed them on the floor.
«What did you spill here? Look at this mess.»
«I just wiped the floor…»
«I can see that; you just poured water all over it. What, rice and store-bought meatballs again? Why don’t you actually cook something?»
«Grind the meat yourself, and I’ll make homemade ones tomorrow.»
«What do you even do all day? You’ve let the house go… and yourself, too.»
He grabbed his plate and went to the TV. Lilya stood in silence, fighting back tears. Ruslan finished his meal, left the dirty dishes on the table, and went to the bathroom, never once considering that his wife might be hungry.
And then Lilya said it: «That’s it. I’m done. The baby and I are going to stay with my mother.»
She started packing. Ruslan stood there, stunned—he realized she wasn’t joking. Reaching for some documents, Lilya suddenly winced and sank to the floor. Her face went deathly pale.
The ambulance took her to the hospital, leaving Ruslan alone with the infant.
First, he called his boss to take time off. Then, after clumsily getting the baby ready, he headed to a 24-hour pharmacy. Back at the building, he hit his first real obstacle—the stroller wouldn’t fit in the elevator. After several failed attempts, he gave up, left it behind, and carried the baby up in his arms.
The night was brutal. Ruslan didn’t fall asleep until dawn, got maybe two hours of rest, and woke up feeling completely shattered. After feeding the baby formula, he called his wife’s doctor.
Olena Vladimirovna, a woman of experience, had realized late in life that she had been living the wrong way. She had spent her whole life sacrificing for her family—waking up before everyone else, cooking, running for groceries, working, and then doing it all over again in the evening. Her husband had never helped with the kids or the housework. Her own mother had told her that was just how it was: «He’s a good husband—he doesn’t cheat, he brings home a paycheck. It’s normal that he doesn’t help.»
But one day, Olena visited a colleague’s home. A man in an apron opened the door and quietly whispered, «Olya got home late; she’s still sleeping.» Nearby, a toddler covered in porridge chirped happily, «Daddy is making us pancakes!»
Olena was floored. She realized then that not every woman was destined for a life of burden. There were women who were loved and protected.
That same day, she withdrew some money, took a vacation, and went to a spa resort. Her husband called first with threats, then with pleas for her to return. When she finally came home, she was met with flowers, a clean house, and a hot dinner. «Forgive me,» her husband said.
In the hospital, Olena Vladimirovna spoke with Lilya and immediately recognized the signs of severe exhaustion. She saw her younger self in the girl and decided to help.
«You’re staying here for ten days,» she told Lilya. «Tell your husband to take a leave of absence.»
«He won’t manage…»
«He will. You’re underestimating him.»
Ruslan did struggle—badly. The house turned into chaos; he was sleep-deprived, exhausted, and at times, he even broke down in tears. Sitting up at night with his son in his arms, he whispered, «I didn’t know it was this hard… I’m so sorry, buddy. I was so mean to your mom.»
Slowly, he began to understand exactly what Lilya went through every single day. The night before she was discharged, he and his son finally slept through the night for the first time.
A month passed. Ruslan was rushing home from work—not out of habit, but because he actually missed his family. He knew what was waiting for him: a clean home, a warm meal, but most importantly, his wife’s smile. A happy, peaceful, and cherished Lilya.
