“Do you even understand what you’re doing?” Igor’s voice trembled, raw with anger.
“My mother’s been standing outside the door for half an hour!” He pounded his fist against it.
“Marina, open the door! What’s going on?”

A muffled voice came from behind the barrier:
“Go away.”
“Are you out of your mind? Where’s the baby?”
“With the neighbor. He’s better off there.”
“Open the door, right now!”
“No.”
“I’ll break it down!”
“Go ahead.”

He slammed his shoulder into the door. Once. Twice. The wood cracked, the lock gave way.

Marina sat on the floor, pale, knees pulled to her chest, eyes swollen from crying.

“What the hell are you doing?” Igor shouted. “You abandoned the baby!”

“I didn’t abandon him. I… I can’t anymore.”

“Can’t what? Be a mother? I knew it! Mom’s right—you can’t handle it!”

“Your mother…” Marina’s voice rose, shaking. “Your mother took everything from me! My son, our home, you!”

“No one took anything from you!”

“Oh no? Who decides when to feed him? Your mother. Who puts him to sleep? Your mother! Who picks his clothes? Your mother! Who am I here—just an incubator?”

“You just can’t cope! That’s all!”

Today

An October evening brought not peace but a storm.
The living room had turned into a battlefield where two families collided—two worlds, two truths.

Marina stood by the window, her three-month-old son Artyom cradled in her arms. The baby slept, unaware that his fate was being torn apart across the room. Behind her stood her mother, Yelena Andreyevna, and her younger sister Katya—her quiet defense line.

Across from them stood Valentina Petrovna, Igor’s mother, towering like a general, flanked by her own daughter, Svetlana, and Igor himself—tired, sleepless, and lost.

“I’m packing our things and going to my mother’s,” Marina said quietly, each word deliberate.

“You have no right to take my grandson!” Valentina’s voice pierced the air.

“He’s my son.”

“Igor, tell her!” Valentina tugged her son’s sleeve like a child demanding protection.

Igor looked worn out. The tie was gone, sleeves rolled up, the weight of sleepless nights drawn under his eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Marina. Where will you go? Your mother’s apartment is tiny.”

“At least there, no one will humiliate me.”

Svetlana, who had been sitting silently on the couch, finally spoke.
“No one’s humiliating you. You’re just hysterical again.”

“Oh, shut up!” Katya snapped. “Your brother promised to help but spends all his time hiding at work!”

“I’m earning money!”

“You could’ve hired a nanny then!”

“Why a nanny when you have me?” Valentina lifted her chin proudly.

“You’re not a nanny,” Yelena Andreyevna shot back. “You’re the problem!”

“How dare you!”

“I dare because you’ve broken my daughter! You’ve driven her into a breakdown!”

“Your daughter can’t even cook! Can’t manage a baby!”

“She’s a wonderful mother!”

“Wonderful?” Valentina sneered. “She abandoned the child yesterday!”

“She didn’t abandon him—she…” Yelena faltered. Marina just held Artyom tighter.

“She what?” Igor folded his arms. “Go on, tell everyone why you locked yourself in the bathroom and left him crying.”

“Because I couldn’t anymore!” Marina suddenly screamed. The baby flinched in her arms. “I couldn’t keep hearing what a failure I am! I couldn’t bear watching your mother take my son away from me! I couldn’t stand your indifference!”

“My indifference? I work fourteen hours a day!”

“You ran! From me, from the baby, from responsibility! You hid behind work—and behind your mommy!”

“Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!”

“Oh, I dare. You promised to stand by me—and instead, you disappeared. She replaced me, Igor! She took everything!”

“She’s helping!”

“She’s destroying me! And you let her!”

“Enough!” Valentina lunged forward. “Give me the baby!”

“I won’t!”

“Give him here! You’re not thinking straight!”

“Mom, stop.”

The words froze everyone in place. Svetlana stood up from the couch, her expression suddenly firm.

“What did you just say?” Valentina stared at her daughter.

“Enough, Mom. You’re going too far. Marina is his mother, not you.”

“Svetа, are you insane?” Igor’s voice was incredulous.

“No, I’ve just had enough lies,” Svetlana said quietly. “Do you know why my husband left me? Because you interfered in our life the same way. And I was too afraid to stand up to you. Until I lost everything.”

Valentina’s face flushed scarlet. “How dare you—”

“I don’t want Igor to end up like me. Marina’s right—you’re taking her child. And Igor’s letting it happen.”

“Traitor!” Valentina hissed.

“No, Mom. Just honest. Marina needs help, not humiliation.”
continue in comment

“Do you even understand what you’re doing?” Igor’s voice trembled, raw with anger.
“My mother’s been standing outside the door for half an hour!” He pounded his fist against it.
“Marina, open the door! What’s going on?”

A muffled voice came from behind the barrier:
“Go away.”

“Are you out of your mind? Where’s the baby?”
“With the neighbor. He’s better off there.”
“Open the door, right now!”
“No.”
“I’ll break it down!”
“Go ahead.”

He slammed his shoulder into the door. Once. Twice. The wood cracked, the lock gave way.

Marina sat on the floor, pale, knees pulled to her chest, eyes swollen from crying.

“What the hell are you doing?” Igor shouted. “You abandoned the baby!”

“I didn’t abandon him. I… I can’t anymore.”

“Can’t what? Be a mother? I knew it! Mom’s right—you can’t handle it!”

“Your mother…” Marina’s voice rose, shaking. “Your mother took everything from me! My son, our home, you!”

“No one took anything from you!”

“Oh no? Who decides when to feed him? Your mother. Who puts him to sleep? Your mother! Who picks his clothes? Your mother! Who am I here—just an incubator?”

“You just can’t cope! That’s all!”

Today

An October evening brought not peace but a storm.
The living room had turned into a battlefield where two families collided—two worlds, two truths.

Marina stood by the window, her three-month-old son Artyom cradled in her arms. The baby slept, unaware that his fate was being torn apart across the room. Behind her stood her mother, Yelena Andreyevna, and her younger sister Katya—her quiet defense line.

Across from them stood Valentina Petrovna, Igor’s mother, towering like a general, flanked by her own daughter, Svetlana, and Igor himself—tired, sleepless, and lost.

“I’m packing our things and going to my mother’s,” Marina said quietly, each word deliberate.

“You have no right to take my grandson!” Valentina’s voice pierced the air.

“He’s my son.”

“Igor, tell her!” Valentina tugged her son’s sleeve like a child demanding protection.

Igor looked worn out. The tie was gone, sleeves rolled up, the weight of sleepless nights drawn under his eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Marina. Where will you go? Your mother’s apartment is tiny.”

“At least there, no one will humiliate me.”

Svetlana, who had been sitting silently on the couch, finally spoke.
“No one’s humiliating you. You’re just hysterical again.”

“Oh, shut up!” Katya snapped. “Your brother promised to help but spends all his time hiding at work!”

“I’m earning money!”

“You could’ve hired a nanny then!”

“Why a nanny when you have me?” Valentina lifted her chin proudly.

“You’re not a nanny,” Yelena Andreyevna shot back. “You’re the problem!”

“How dare you!”

“I dare because you’ve broken my daughter! You’ve driven her into a breakdown!”

“Your daughter can’t even cook! Can’t manage a baby!”

“She’s a wonderful mother!”

“Wonderful?” Valentina sneered. “She abandoned the child yesterday!”

“She didn’t abandon him—she…” Yelena faltered. Marina just held Artyom tighter.

“She what?” Igor folded his arms. “Go on, tell everyone why you locked yourself in the bathroom and left him crying.”

“Because I couldn’t anymore!” Marina suddenly screamed. The baby flinched in her arms. “I couldn’t keep hearing what a failure I am! I couldn’t bear watching your mother take my son away from me! I couldn’t stand your indifference!”

“My indifference? I work fourteen hours a day!”

“You ran! From me, from the baby, from responsibility! You hid behind work—and behind your mommy!”

“Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!”

“Oh, I dare. You promised to stand by me—and instead, you disappeared. She replaced me, Igor! She took everything!”

“She’s helping!”

“She’s destroying me! And you let her!”

“Enough!” Valentina lunged forward. “Give me the baby!”

“I won’t!”

“Give him here! You’re not thinking straight!”

“Mom, stop.”

The words froze everyone in place. Svetlana stood up from the couch, her expression suddenly firm.

“What did you just say?” Valentina stared at her daughter.

“Enough, Mom. You’re going too far. Marina is his mother, not you.”

“Svetа, are you insane?” Igor’s voice was incredulous.

“No, I’ve just had enough lies,” Svetlana said quietly. “Do you know why my husband left me? Because you interfered in our life the same way. And I was too afraid to stand up to you. Until I lost everything.”

Valentina’s face flushed scarlet. “How dare you—”

“I don’t want Igor to end up like me. Marina’s right—you’re taking her child. And Igor’s letting it happen.”

“Traitor!” Valentina hissed.

“No, Mom. Just honest. Marina needs help, not humiliation.”

\Marina stepped toward the hallway, clutching her bag and baby. Igor moved to block her.
“You’re not taking my son!”

“We’ll see,” she said coldly, sidestepping him.

“Marina, please! Let’s talk!”

“About what? About how your mother will keep raising our son while you pretend not to notice? No, Igor. I’m done talking.”

“I’ll change!”

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving. Where were you the last three months?”

“I was working!”

“You were hiding. So stay with your mother—you deserve each other.”

The door slammed behind the three women.

Silence fell—thick, unbearable.

“Igor, do something!” Valentina’s voice trembled now, stripped of authority.

He stood still, staring at the door.
“I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything! That hysterical girl—”

“Mom, shut up!” He spun around, voice shaking. “Just shut up! Svetlana’s right—you took everything from her! And I let you!”

“How dare you talk to me like that!”

“Get out, Mom. Leave my house.”

“What?”

“GET OUT! And don’t come back until I call.”

“You’ll regret this!” She stormed out, slamming the door.

Svetlana approached her brother, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s too late, Igor. She’s not coming back.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw her eyes. She’s broken. You and Mom broke her. And the worst thing—you didn’t even notice when it happened.”

A week later, a courier brought an envelope. Divorce papers.

Marina asked for only one thing—that Valentina never come near the child.

Igor signed without reading.

Standing by the window of the now-empty apartment, he heard her words again:

“Your mother took everything from me.”

Only now did he understand. His mother had taken everything from him too—his wife, his son, his family. And he had let her. He had hidden behind work, behind excuses, behind fear.

The phone rang, cutting through the silence. His mother’s name flashed on the screen.

“Igoryok, well? Has that one come to her senses yet?”

He declined the call. Then blocked the number.

After a long pause, he dialed another.

“Marina? It’s me. No, I’m not calling to beg forgiveness. I just… wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. You were right. I ran. I let my mother ruin us. I understand now… too late, but I do. Take care of yourself and the baby.”

He hung up before she could respond.

The apartment was silent again—only the steady ticking of the clock could be heard.

The sound of time slipping away.
The countdown of everything he had already lost.