Galina bought simple furniture, hung photos of her children on the walls, set a geranium on the windowsill. In the evenings she brewed tea and read books—a luxury she’d been denied for years. No one demanded dinner at a set time. No one blasted the TV. No one scolded her for “wasting money” on books.
Gradually the children softened. Dmitry began coming on weekends to help with repairs. Ekaterina brought the grandkids. They started to understand their mother hadn’t destroyed a family—she had saved herself.
One evening Nina Ivanovna called.
“So, Gal—any regrets?”
Galina stood by the window, watching children play in the courtyard. Somewhere far away, in another life, Viktor was probably eating dinner in front of the TV while Valentina Pavlovna complained to some new housekeeper about ungrateful daughters-in-law.
“You know, Nina,” Galina said, “I thought I’d regret it. But instead I regret only one thing—that I didn’t do it sooner. So many years wasted.”
She ended the call and returned to her book. A cup of coffee steamed on the table—she still bought good coffee even though it was expensive. Some things matter more than money. Like the right to be yourself.
