— Marina, open the door! What’s going on?
— Go away, came a muffled voice from behind the door.
— Are you out of your mind? Where’s the baby?
— With the neighbor. He’s better off there.
— Open up immediately!
— No.
— I’ll break the door down!
— Go ahead.

He slammed his shoulder into it. Again. The door gave way. Marina was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees.
— What are you doing? he 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… — she raised her voice. — Your mother took everything from me! My son, our home, you!
— No one took anything!
— NO? And who decides when to feed him? Your mother! Who puts him to bed? Your mother! Who picks out his clothes? Your mother! Who am I here—an incubator?
— You just can’t cope! That’s all there is to it!

An October evening brought not peace but a real storm into Igor and Marina’s home. The living room had turned into a battlefield where two families, two worlds, and two truths collided.

Marina stood by the window, clutching three-month-old Artyom to her chest. The baby slept, unaware that his fate was being decided right now. Behind the young woman stood her defenders—her mother, Yelena Andreyevna, and her sister Katya. Opposite them, like a fortress, loomed Valentina Petrovna, flanked by her children, Igor and Svetlana.

— I’m packing my things and going to my mother’s, — Marina spoke quietly, but every word was distinct.

— You have no right to take my grandson! — Valentina Petrovna’s voice tore through the taut air.

— He’s my son!

— Igor, tell her! — the mother-in-law tugged at her son’s expensive shirt sleeve like a child asking for protection.

Igor looked exhausted. His tie had long since been tossed aside, his sleeves were rolled up, and dark circles lay under his eyes from sleepless nights.

— Don’t be foolish, Marina, — he said in a lifeless tone. — Where will you go? Your mother has a two-room apartment.

— At least there no one will humiliate me!

Svetlana, who had been silent on the edge of the sofa, cut in:
— No one is humiliating you. You work yourself into hysterics.

— Oh, be quiet! — Katya snapped, defending her sister. — Your dear brother promised to help and vanished at work!

— I’m earning money!

— You could’ve hired a nanny with that money!

— Why a nanny when you have me? — Valentina Petrovna drew herself up to her full, considerable height.

— You’re not a nanny! You’re the problem! — Yelena Andreyevna couldn’t hold back.

— How dare you!

— I dare! You drove my daughter to a nervous breakdown!

— Your daughter is the one to blame! She can’t cook, can’t raise a child!

— She’s a wonderful mother!

— Wonderful? — Valentina Petrovna smirked. — She abandoned the child yesterday!

— She didn’t abandon him, she… — Marina fell silent, instinctively holding the baby tighter.

— She what? — Igor folded his arms. — Go on! Explain to everyone why you locked yourself in the bathroom and left the baby!
— Because I couldn’t anymore! — she screamed, and the sleeping baby flinched at the sharp sound. — I couldn’t keep hearing what a bad mother I am! I couldn’t stand watching your mother take my son away from me! I couldn’t endure your indifference!

— My indifference? I work fourteen hours a day!

— You ran! You ran from responsibility, from the child, from me! You hid behind work and your mommy!

— Don’t you dare talk like that!

— I do dare! You promised to be there, to help! And what happened? You disappeared, and your mother took my place!

— She’s helping!

— She’s destroying me! And you’re letting it happen!

— Enough! — Valentina Petrovna stepped forward, reaching for her grandson. — Give me the baby!

— I won’t!

— Give him here! You’re not in your right mind!

— Mom, stop! — Svetlana unexpectedly intervened.

Everyone froze and turned to her. She rose from the sofa, a new resolve in her movements.

— What? — Valentina Petrovna stared at her daughter in bewilderment.

— Mom, that’s enough. You really are going too far. Marina is this child’s mother, not you.

— Svetа, what are you saying? — Igor was stunned by his sister’s betrayal.

— The truth. Do you know why my husband left? Because Mom interfered in our life the same way. Only I kept quiet, endured it. And then I ended up alone.

— How dare you! — the mother-in-law’s face flushed.

— I don’t want Igor to repeat my fate. Marina’s right—you’re taking her child from her. And you, dear brother, are hiding behind work instead of helping your wife.

— Traitor! — spat out Valentina Petrovna.

— No, Mom. I just see the truth. Marina needs help, not criticism. Support, not humiliation.

Marina moved toward the door, and Igor rushed to block her:
— Stop! You’re not leaving with my son!

— We’ll see, — she sidestepped him and headed for the hall.

— Marina, please! Let’s talk!

— About what? — she turned, pain swirling in her eyes. — About how your mother will go on raising our son? About how you’ll keep hiding at work? No, thanks.

— I’ll change!

— You’re only saying that because I’m leaving. Where were you for three months?

— I was working!

— You were running! And you know what? Stay with your mommy. You deserve each other.

The door closed behind the three women—Marina, her mother, and her sister. A deafening silence settled over the apartment.

— Igor, do something! — Valentina Petrovna’s voice trembled with despair.

But her son stood like a statue, staring at the door.
— I ruined everything, — he whispered.

— You didn’t ruin anything! That hysteric…

— Mom, SHUT UP! — he whirled around. — Just shut up! Sveta’s right—you took everything from Marina! And I let it happen!

— How dare you!

— Leave, Mom. Get out of my house.

— What?

— GET OUT. And don’t come back until I call.

— You’ll regret this! — she ran out, slamming the door.

Svetlana came up to her brother and laid a hand on his shoulder.
— It’s too late, Igor. She’s NOT coming back.

— How do you know?

— Because I saw her eyes. She’s broken. You and Mom broke her. And you know what’s the scariest part? You didn’t even notice when it happened.

A week later, a courier delivered an envelope with divorce papers. Marina asked for only one thing—that Valentina Petrovna not come near the child. Igor signed without reading.

Standing at the window of the empty apartment, he remembered his wife’s words: “Your mother took everything from me.” Only now did he realize—his mother had taken everything from him, too. His family, his wife, his son. And he had let her. He hid behind work, behind his mother’s back, behind pitiful excuses.

The melody of his phone cut through his torment. The screen lit up: “Mom.”

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

He declined the call and blocked the number. Then he dialed another.

— Marina? It’s me. No, I’m not calling to beg forgiveness. Just… I’m sorry. For everything. You were right. I ran. And I let my mother… I just wanted you to know—I understand now. Too late, but I understand. Take care of yourself and the baby.

He hung up without waiting for a response. In the apartment’s silence, only the even ticking of the desk clock could be heard—the countdown of the time he had lost, the family he had destroyed, the life he had let slip away forever.