Veronika froze in the half-open kitchen doorway. In her fingers, she unconsciously clutched a damp waffle towel, the rough fabric unpleasantly biting into her skin.
From the smartphone speaker, lying on the worn sunflower-patterned oilcloth tablecloth, Tamara Ilyinichna’s sharp, crackling voice could be heard.
— Get rid of that empty woman, she’ll never give you a child! — her mother-in-law declared, enunciating every word. — You’ve been living together for three years, and there’s no result. No children, no comfort. She just drains you, Stanislav.
Stanislav sat with his back to the hallway. Slouched, he methodically picked at the peeling paint on the leg of the stool with his fingernail and mumbled something indistinct in response. Water quietly bubbled on the stove in an old enamel pot.
— Mom, wait a second… — Stanislav sighed loudly. — Where am I supposed to send her? The apartment is hers.
— Then you leave! Let her sit alone within her four walls. You’ll find yourself a normal, healthy woman. And this one… a barren flower. I can see right through people like her. Probably fooling around at work, that’s why she has no energy left for you.
Everything inside Veronika went cold. The expectation of even the simplest protection, the faint hope that her husband would interrupt this poisonous monologue, melted away with every passing second.
But Stanislav remained silent. He just sat there and listened as his wife was humiliated.
Veronika’s life had never been like a fairy tale. She was thirty-three. The age when youthful illusions finally fade, giving way to harsh practicality. She worked as a technologist in a bakery on the outskirts of a small industrial town.
The work was physically exhausting. Every day began very early.
The monotonous hum of the refrigerator in the dark, the smell of the empty apartment, a cup of scalding black tea. Then a run to the bus stop, a cold morning bus where passengers dozed, leaning against frozen windows.
At work, she was greeted by the thick aroma of vanilla, melted butter, and fresh yeast. Veronika kneaded dough, feeling its elasticity and living warmth. Her hands were always covered in a thin layer of flour that no cream could remove.
Stanislav hadn’t achieved much either. He worked as a dispatcher in a large logistics company. He came home late, his jacket soaked with the smell of exhaust fumes, dust, and cheap instant coffee they drank in liters at the office.
Veronika didn’t nag him. She saw that her husband was tired, coming home with a gray, drawn face. In the evenings, they had dinner in the cramped kitchen. Veronika put plates of homemade cutlets or stewed cabbage on the table.
Stanislav ate silently, scrolling through his phone, only occasionally throwing out dissatisfied remarks about the unfairness of his bosses.
At such moments, Veronika felt that everything was fine. Maybe poor, without trips to the sea or fancy dinners, but together. There was a roof over their heads, warmth in the rooms.
But deep inside, a dull sadness grew. Veronika desperately wanted a child.
At work, she often looked out the window, watching mothers walk along the sidewalk holding bundled-up children by the hand. Returning to the empty, quiet apartment, she felt this ringing, oppressive silence more and more strongly.
At first, she and Stanislav decided to wait a little. Get on their feet, save some money. But time passed, savings didn’t grow, and attempts to get pregnant remained unsuccessful.
Month after month, Veronika waited for a miracle with a trembling heart, looked at the single pale line on the test, and felt a lump in her throat.
She tried to talk to her husband. Carefully, choosing her words.
— Stas, maybe we should get checked? What if something’s wrong? These days a lot can be solved.
Stanislav flared up instantly.
— If you need it, you go! Everything’s fine with me. What are you trying to say, that I’m defective?
— I didn’t say that. Just that both of us should—
— Enough! — he slammed his hand on the table. — There’s nothing wrong with me. You’re the one always tired and pale. Go to your own appointments and leave me out of it!
After such conversations, he would go into the room and turn the TV up loud. Veronika remained alone in the kitchen.
One November Saturday, they visited Tamara Ilyinichna again. Veronika hated these visits. The apartment always smelled musty.
— So, when will you make us happy? — her mother-in-law began. — The neighbors keep asking.
— We asked not to bring this up — Veronika replied.
— What do you mean, time? The clock is ticking! Maybe you’re simply incapable? There are women like that… barren ones…
Veronika felt heat rush to her cheeks. Stanislav stayed silent.
— This is our life — she said at last.
— Look how proud you are! — her mother-in-law snorted. — My son needs an heir, not a freeloader.
They rode home in silence. That was when Veronika understood: in this family, she was no one.
And now she stood in the hallway, listening to the phone conversation.
— Leave her, son — the speaker continued.
Stanislav ended the call. Veronika stepped into the kitchen.
— Long enough to hear everything — she said calmly.
— I didn’t agree! — he protested.
— But you didn’t defend me either.
— You know what my mother is like…
— And I need a husband! — she burst out.
The argument escalated.
— Then pack your things — Veronika said quietly.
— What?!
— Pack and leave.
Stanislav left.
Two days later, Tamara Ilyinichna called.
— Got what you wanted?
— Tell Stanislav I’m filing for divorce tomorrow.
The divorce was quick.
Veronika moved to Yaroslavl.
She started a new life.
There she met Konstantin.
The man was calm and reliable.
Their relationship developed slowly.
A year and a half later, they got married.
Not long after, Veronika found out: she was pregnant.
Crying, she sat happily in the bathroom.
Konstantin embraced her.
— Everything will be fine — he whispered.
Meanwhile, Stanislav’s life went downhill.
On a rainy day in Yaroslavl, he saw Veronika.
She stood beside a man, holding a newborn.
Stanislav froze.
“Barren” — echoed in his head.
She wasn’t. She had just been with the wrong person.
The car drove away.
Stanislav was left alone in the rain.
And finally, he understood what a terrible mistake he had made.
