Vera was doing the dishes after dinner when her husband hugged her from behind. Normally that gesture felt pleasant, but today, for some reason, it made her uneasy. After seventeen years of marriage, she’d learned to notice when Igor was up to something
“Verochka, do you remember when I talked about vacation?” His voice was suspiciously soft.
“I remember. We wanted to go to Sochi for May vacation,” she kept scrubbing the pan without turning around.
“Well, you see…” Igor released her and sat at the table. “The guys from work organized a trip to Turkey. All inclusive, a big hotel, just for two weeks.”
Vera turned, drying her hands with a towel.
“Great! I’ve long dreamed of seeing Turkey. When do we go?”
Igor hesitated, rubbing his neck — a sure sign he was about to say something unpleasant.
“Actually, it’s… it’s a guys-only trip. Just the people from my department, no wives.”
“Oh, I see,” thought Vera, feeling a familiar disappointment. “Again.”
“So, you’ll stay home while I go on vacation?” she tried to speak calmly.
“Vero, don’t be sad,” Igor got up and hugged her. “It’s a business‑trip, for team bonding. The company is paying for it, it’s hard to turn down.”
“Are you working at a five‑star, all‑inclusive hotel?” Vera raised an eyebrow in skepticism.
“Yes, mixing business with pleasure,” he smiled awkwardly. “But in summer we’ll fly together wherever you want, I promise.”
Vera had heard those promises before. Last summer he also promised, but in the end they went nowhere: either work, or not enough money for car repairs, or some other excuse.
“All right,” she sighed. “When do you leave?”
“In two weeks, May 3rd,” Igor relaxed, thinking the storm had passed. “Thanks for understanding, kitten.”
He kissed her on the cheek and went to the living room to watch football. Vera stayed in the kitchen, feeling bitter resentment. “Understanding kitten. Always understanding. But when will someone understand me?”
—
The next days passed among the usual bustle. Igor got enthusiastic preparing for the trip: bought new swimsuits, sunscreen, even got a hair appointment. Vera watched his preparations with growing irritation.
On Friday evening, a week before Igor’s departure, there was a knock at the door. Vera opened and groaned inwardly. Her father‑in‑law, Nikolai Petrovich, stood on the threshold, swaying, exuding a strong smell of alcohol.
“Verka, daughter, let the old man in,” he muttered, grabbing the door frame.
“Nikolai Petrovich, you again…” she began, but he forced his way into the apartment.
“Where is my son! Igor!” he shouted, heading to the living room.
Igor came out of the bedroom, saw his father, and turned serious.
“Dad, did you drink again? We made an agreement!”
“Agreement?” Nikolai Petrovich mocked, collapsing into the sofa. “Agreement with whom? Nobody agreed anything with me! I’m an adult, I do as I please.”
Vera leaned tiredly against the wall. It was the fourth visit from the drunken father‑in‑law in a month. Since his wife’s death three years ago, Nikolai Petrovich had completely fallen apart: drank nonstop, kept his apartment a wreck, argued with all the neighbors.
“Ver, make dad a strong tea,” Igor asked, trying to settle his father.
“Sure, make it, bring it, clean — all that,” Vera thought bitterly, but she went to the kitchen.
When she returned with the tea, her father‑in‑law was already asleep on the sofa, and Igor sat nearby, expression gloomy.
“We have to do something,” he said. “It can’t go on like this.”
“Maybe a rehab center?” Vera suggested.
“He won’t agree. I already proposed that,” Igor rubbed his face with his hands. “Listen, what if… Ver, I have an idea.”
Vera grew alert. Igor’s ideas rarely promised anything good.
“While I’m in Turkey, what if Dad stays with us? Under your supervision he surely won’t drink. And when I come back, we decide together what to do.”
Vera froze, cup in hand, unable to believe what she heard.
“You want me to take care of your alcoholic father for two weeks while you sunbathe in Turkey?”
“Well, not care, just keep an eye on him,” Igor tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. “Ver, who else can help? My sister is in America, there are no other relatives.”
“And his friends? Neighbors?” Vera felt anger rising.
“They all distanced themselves from him,” Igor sighed. “They’re fed up with the drinking. Only us left.”
—
The next morning Vera woke with a heavy head. The father‑in‑law was still asleep on the sofa, snoring and radiating a sour smell. Igor had already gone to work, leaving a note: “Thanks for taking in Dad. We’ll talk this afternoon. I love you.”
“ Taking in? As if I had a choice!” she wrinkled the note.
She made strong coffee and sat at the kitchen table, thinking through the situation. Tolerate her father‑in‑law’s drunken antics for two weeks while her husband enjoys with friends? It was too much.
The phone rang: it was her friend Larisa.
“Hi, friend! How are you? Getting ready for the May vacation?”
“I wish,” Vera told her about her husband’s plans.
“Wait, wait,” Larisa got indignant. “He’s going to Turkey without you and you have to look after his drunk father? Ver, are you crazy?”
“What can I do?” asked Vera, weary.
“What if you say ‘no’? Tell him: either we go together, or you stay with your father.”
“You know Igor. He already decided everything.”
“That’s it! He decided! And what about you? Are you furniture? Doesn’t your opinion count?”
After the call, Vera felt even worse. Larisa was right: why should she sacrifice her time and nerves?
The father‑in‑law woke around midday, complaining and moaning.
“Verochka, water,” he whimpered.
She brought water and a headache pill. Nikolai Petrovich drank it all at once and looked at her with cloudy eyes.
“Thank you, daughter. You’re good, not like my idiot.”
“Don’t talk about Igor like that,” Vera objected automatically.
“And why not? Isn’t it true?” the father‑in‑law sat up, making faces. “You’re going to Turkey, you told me that yesterday drunk. Leaving your old father behind to rest.”
“It’s for work,” Vera didn’t know why she was defending her husband.
“Work!” Nikolai Petrovich scoffed. “Same thing you told Ninka, may she rest in peace. Business, business. But he went to Sochi with his secretary.”
Vera went cold.
“What are you saying?”
“What I’m saying,” the father‑in‑law got up, swaying. “Like father, like son, they say. Where can I smoke?”
Vera pointed to the balcony but stayed seated, processing what she had heard. No, Igor isn’t like that. It can’t be. Although… those “guys‑only trips,” coming home late from work parties, new perfumes…
—
That night Igor came home with a huge bunch of roses and a box of chocolates.
“For you, for being so understanding,” he kissed her cheek.
“Igor, we have to talk,” Vera put down the flowers. “About your father.”
“Oh, by the way!” he perked up. “I talked with Dad’s neighbor, she’ll bring his stuff here. I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
“Igor, stop!” Vera raised her voice. “I will not accept taking care of your father while you go on vacation!”
Igor froze, surprised.
“How can you refuse? Ver, we talked about it yesterday.”
“You talked by yourself and presented me with a done deal!” Vera felt anger rising like a wave. “I didn’t sign up to be a nanny!”
“What nanny? He’s my father! Family! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“To me?” Vera stood up. “Am I the one who doesn’t value family? Me, who has run the house for seventeen years? Cooking, washing, cleaning for everyone?”
“No one forced you!” Igor replied. “You don’t have to cook, we can order food!”
“It’s not about cooking!” Vera tried not to shout. “It’s about you deciding everything. Vacation — you decided. Having your father live here — you decided. And what about my opinion?”
“I always consider your opinion,” Igor sat down, demonstratively calm. “But sometimes there are decisions that not everyone likes. Dad needs help.”
“Then you stay and help him!” Vera exploded. “Cancel the trip!”
Igor looked at her as if she were insane.
“Are you joking? I can’t refuse, it’s a work trip! The company pays, tickets are already bought.”
“Can I refuse the role of nanny?” Vera crossed her arms.
“Ver, don’t start,” Igor rubbed his temples. “Dad will only stay here two weeks. What’s wrong with that? You feed him, watch he doesn’t drink. He can even help around the house, if you ask him.”
Vera laughed — bitterly, angrily.
“Help? Your father, who turned the apartment into a dump? Who doesn’t even wash his own dishes?”
“He’s sick, Vera! He’s been depressed since Mom died!”
“Depression isn’t an excuse for drinking yourself into ruin and being a burden on the family!” Vera could no longer restrain herself. “And you know what? I will not stay with your alcoholic father while you relax in Turkey!”
—
After the argument, Igor went to sleep in the living room with his father. Vera lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The father‑in‑law’s words about infidelity, about “like father, like son,” spun in her mind. “No, it’s nonsense from a drunk,” she tried to convince herself.
Breakfast was tense and silent. The father‑in‑law, hungover and sad, poked at scrambled eggs with a fork. Igor avoided looking at his wife.
“You don’t seem happy,” Nikolai Petrovich grumbled. “Did you fight?”
“Everything’s fine, Dad,” Igor grunted.
“Aha, I see,” the father‑in‑law narrowed his eyes cunningly. “For my sake, right? Vera doesn’t want to care for me?”
“Nikolai Petrovich…” Vera started, but he interrupted.
“Rightly so! I wouldn’t want to take care of a drunk either. I’m off home.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Igor interrupted.
“I won’t stay,” Vera said firmly.
Igor gave her a fierce look.
“Ver, can I speak with you a minute?” He stood up from the table.
They went into the hallway. Igor closed the kitchen door and turned to his wife.
“What are you doing? Scenes in front of Dad?”
“I’m speaking the truth. I don’t want to take care of someone who drinks for two weeks.”
“He’s my father!” Igor whispered. “And he’s sick! Where’s your compassion?”
“And yours for me?” Vera replied. “I am a person too, I have plans, desires. But you don’t ever think about that.”
“What plans? Watching shows at home?”
Those words hurt more than a slap. Vera had given up her work five years ago at Igor’s insistence — he wanted the house always clean and dinner hot. Now he reproached her for that.
“You know what?” Vera’s voice turned cold. “Do as you like. Bring your father. But I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?” Igor mocked.
“My mother’s village. She asked for help in the garden.”
“Ver, don’t talk nonsense. You’re not going anywhere.”
“We’ll see,” she went to the bedroom.
—
The following days passed in a cold war. Igor pretended nothing was wrong, continued preparing for the trip. The father‑in‑law, sensing the tension, avoided crossing paths with his daughter‑in‑law.
Three days before Igor’s departure, Vera packed her suitcase.
“What are you doing?” her husband was at the bedroom door.
“I’m going with my mom. I already told you.”
“Ver, stop the theatrics. You’re not going.”
“Why not?” She kept packing.
“Because you are my wife and your place is here.”
“My place is where I’m respected.” She closed the suitcase. “The bus leaves the morning after tomorrow. I’ll return when you come back from Turkey.”
“Are you serious?” Igor paled. “And Dad?”
“Hire a babysitter. Or cancel the trip. Or take him to a care home. There are many options.”
“Babysitters cost money!”
“Turkey costs money too.” Vera fired back. “But you found money for the vacation.”
—
Igor was silent, clenching his fists. Then he left, slamming the door.
That night, Igor’s sister Tatiana called from America. Apparently Igor had complained.
“Vera, what’s going on? Igor says you refuse to help with Dad.”
“Tati, I refuse to work as a free nanny for two weeks,” Vera replied calmly.
“But he’s family! How can you?”
“And how can you live in America knowing your father is destroying himself?” Vera was sick of hypocrisy. “Why do I have to solve your family’s problems?”
“Because you’re Igor’s wife!”
“Wife, not servant. If you care so much about Dad — take vacation, come yourself, take care of him.”
Tatiana muttered something indignant about tickets and work, but Vera had already hung up.
—
On the morning of the departure, Igor made one last attempt.
“Ver, let’s talk calmly,” he sat on the bed where she was going through her suitcase. “I understand you are tired. What about this? I pay for spa treatments when I return. Or we go together to a resort.”
“Igor, it’s not about the spa,” Vera looked at him. “It’s about respect. You didn’t ask my opinion, you just presented me with a fait accompli.”
“I thought you’d understand. It’s a force majeure.”
“No, force majeure is when something unexpected happens. And your father has been drinking for three years. During that time something could have been done.”
“For example?” Igor seemed confused.
“Convincing him to get treatment. Finding a good senior residence. Hiring a permanent caregiver. But you chose the easiest route: leaving the burden to me.”
—
A knock came at the door. The father‑in‑law poked his head in.
“Sorry for bothering you. Vera, can I talk to you?”
She went into the hallway. Nikolai Petrovich seemed sober and serious.
“Daughter, I heard everything. Don’t fight over me. I’m going home.”
“Nikolai Petrovich…”
“No, no, I understand. You’re right. There’s no point being a burden. I have a pension, I’ll manage.”
“Dad, where are you going?” Igor came out of the bedroom. “You’re not leaving.”
“I am leaving, son. You didn’t ask Vera. That was wrong. I did the same with your mother: I decided everything on my own. Later I wondered why I was always unhappy.”
Vera looked at her father‑in‑law surprised. Sober, he was fairly sensible.
“Listen, kids,” Nikolai Petrovich continued. “Vera needs rest with her mother, and that’s fine. Igor goes to Turkey if that’s what he wants. And I go home. Maybe I won’t die in two weeks.”
“But Dad…”
“It’s decided,” cut in the father. “Vera, daughter, forgive the old fool. Thanks for sheltering me.”
He left to pack a few things. Igor stayed in the hallway as if he’d been struck.
“See? Even Dad understands I’m right,” said Vera.
“He just… doesn’t want to be a burden,” Igor murmured.
“Maybe he simply respects other people’s boundaries? Unlike some.”
—
An hour later the father‑in‑law left in a taxi, hugging Vera and whispering: “Don’t let them trample you, daughter.” Igor shut himself in, slamming doors.
In the morning, Vera was at the bus stop with her suitcase. Igor drove her in silence, not helping with the luggage.
“Are you really leaving?” he asked when the bus arrived.
“Yes. Have a good rest in Turkey,” Vera loaded the suitcase into the cargo compartment.
“Ver, this is ridiculous! Make a drama over nothing!”
“For you it’s nothing; for me it’s a matter of principle,” she turned toward her husband. “Igor, think why your alcoholic father turned out more sensitive than you.”
The bus departed. Vera sat by the window and sighed with relief. Two weeks in her mother’s village: quiet, fresh air, no drunken in‑laws or selfish husband.
The phone rang almost immediately: Igor. She hung up. Then came a message: “You’re acting like a child. I hope you’ll come to your senses and return.”
“Not even a dream,” Vera thought, deleting the message.
Her mother welcomed her with open arms.
“Verochka! Finally! Had you forgotten me?”
“Mom, I was here at New Year’s,” Vera hugged her.
“Four months ago! Well, come in. I made dumplings; I’ll put on the tea.”
Over tea, Vera told the situation. Her mother listened, shaking her head.
“Oh, Verochka. I told you: Igor is selfish. It showed even at the wedding.”
“Mom, don’t start,” Vera rubbed her temples, tired.
“What? Isn’t it true? How many times has he thought about your wishes? Always does things his way.”
Vera thought. Her mom was right — Igor always decided by himself. Where to live, where to vacation, when to have children… Even quitting her job had been his idea.
“I’m tired, Mom. Tired of always being accommodating.”
“And how good it is that you came,” she stroked her hand. “Rest. Think. Perhaps Igor will reconsider.”
—
That night a message arrived from the father‑in‑law: “Vera, I’m home. All is well. I’m not drinking. Thank you for opening my eyes. Igor also needs to wake up.”
Vera smiled. Who would have thought that the drunken father‑in‑law would become an ally?
The two weeks flew by. Vera helped her mother in the garden, went mushroom‑picking, swam in the river. Igor wrote the first days, then fell silent, apparently to punish her with silence.
The day before her return, he called:
“Ver, my flight is tomorrow. When are you coming back?”
“The day after tomorrow,” Vera replied calmly.
“Good. I hope you’ve rested and stopped being angry.”
“I’m not angry, Igor. I’m defending my boundaries.”
“Well, we’ll talk at home,” his irritation was obvious in his voice. “By the way, Dad called. Says he’s holding up, not drinking. See? Everything worked out well.”
“Yes, it turned out well. Without me,” Vera emphasized.
—
At home, Igor met her tanned, relaxed, but with a sour expression.
“I hope you’re happy,” he said instead of greeting her. “Because of your whims I had to explain myself to coworkers. Everyone asked about my wife.”
“And what did you say?” Vera unpacked her suitcase.
“That I went with my mother. They think we’re fighting.”
“Aren’t we?”
Igor sat on the bed looking at his wife.
“Ver, let’s not go on. I rested, you rested. Everything ended well.”
“For you yes. But I understood something important,” Vera turned to him. “That I will no longer accept your decisions made alone. I’m going to speak my mind. And if you again decide something for me without asking, I will leave again.”
“Is that an ultimatum?” Igor frowned.
“New rules. Either you start respecting me, or …”
“Or what?”
“Or we think about whether this marriage is worth it,” Vera said firmly.
Igor paled. It seemed he finally grasped the seriousness.
“Do you want a divorce over a trip?”
“Not over the trip. Over seventeen years of you never considering what I think. For making me the cooker, cleaner, caretaker. For deciding to leave me with your father without asking.”
Igor was silent, taking in what he heard. Then sighed heavily.
“All right. Maybe I did go too far. What do you suggest?”
“To start: talk. Decide together. And also —” Vera looked him in the eyes — “I want to go back to work.”
“For money?”
“It’s not about the money. I want to be more than wife and homemaker. I want to feel fulfilled.”
Igor nodded, although he didn’t like the idea.
—
That night the father‑in‑law called.
“Verochka, you back? How was your rest?”
“Well, Nikolai Petrovich. And you?”
“Hanging in there. You know, I thought… maybe I should go to a spa. Get treatment. I’m just a burden to everyone.”
“That’s a great idea,” Vera said sincerely. “Do you want me to help you find a good one?”
“Thanks, daughter. Let Igor pay, better than spending it in Turkey.”
Vera laughed. The father‑in‑law had definitely matured.
—
A month passed. Nikolai Petrovich went to the spa, Vera got a job at a library nearby. Igor protested at first, then he got used to it. He even learned to warm dinner when his wife returned late.
One night he said:
“You know, Ver, Dad was right. I was a huge selfish one.”
“Well, what an insight,” Vera smiled.
“Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Forgive me.”
“I forgive you. But don’t do it again.”
“I’ll try,” he hugged her. “Hey, how about this summer we really go together? Wherever you want.”
“We’ll see,” Vera leaned on him. “But we decide everything together. In advance.”
“Deal,” Igor agreed.
And although Vera knew changing seventeen years of habits wouldn’t be easy, she believed they could do it. The important thing was she had taken the first step. She had defended her right to have an opinion, to be respected, to have her own space. And the world didn’t shatter. On the contrary, it became more honest and fair.
And Nikolai Petrovich, from the spa, sent a photo: sober, healthy, smiling. And the note: “Thank you, daughter, for refusing to take care of me. Sometimes one needs to be alone to understand simple things.”
Vera kept that photo as a reminder that sometimes saying “no” is also helping. And that self‑respect begins by knowing how to say “no.”
