I took off my apron, placed it neatly over the chair, and walked out of the kitchen. I left. For good. Or at least, that’s what I thought at the time… 🚪💨
«Aren’t you afraid of working?» Sergey leaned casually against the doorframe, watching me wipe the kitchen table. «Tired of being stuck between four walls? Try working like everyone else.»
I froze. The cloth in my hand suddenly felt as heavy as a stone. Twenty-seven years of marriage, and every word he spoke cut deep. Maybe he was right? Maybe all I knew was cleaning, washing, and cooking? 🧽🍽️
«Mom!» Irina’s voice came from the bedroom. «Have you seen my gray sweater?»
«In the closet,» I replied automatically. «I ironed it yesterday.»
After her divorce, Irina had moved back in with us. Now we were three again, and for some reason, everyone assumed I should know where everything was, when to buy groceries, and what to cook for dinner. 🍲🛒
«It’s not there!» Irina burst into the kitchen, hair in disarray, frustration on her face. «I have an interview, and I’m already late!»
Sergey smirked, sipping his coffee. «Like mother, like daughter—no organization.»
I clenched the cloth in my hand, watching water drip from it—slowly, steadily. Just like the years of my life slipping away. 💧⏳
«You know,» I turned to my husband, «maybe you’re right. Maybe I should try.»
«Try what?» he raised an eyebrow.
«Working. Like everyone else.»
Sergey nearly choked on his coffee. «Oh, come on, Anya. At your age? Who would even hire you?»
«Well, I know how to clean,» I said, crossing my arms. «I know how to cook. I know how to organize.»
«Mom!» Irina shouted again. «Found the sweater, but it’s wrinkled!»
Silently, I pulled out the iron. A strange sense of determination welled up inside me. 💪🔥
That evening, I opened a job site. «Janitorial position at a shopping center,» the ad read. The hours were decent, the pay… well, for a start, it was fine.
Sergey walked past, glanced at the screen, and scoffed. «So you’re serious?»
«Serious.»
«We’ll see how long you last,» he muttered, shaking his head.
I saved the number. Tomorrow, I would call. But first, I had to make dinner, check Irina’s clothes, and—
Stop.
I closed the laptop and stood up. «Dinner’s in the fridge. Heat it yourselves.»
«Where are you going?» Sergey frowned.
«For a walk. I need to think.»
As I stepped out, I heard Irina whisper, «Dad, what’s wrong with Mom?»
«She’s lost it,» he grumbled. «She’ll snap out of it.»
But I knew—I wouldn’t. Because as I closed the door behind me, breathing in the fresh night air, I suddenly felt… alive. 🌙✨
Valentina Petrovna, the cleaning manager, looked at me over her glasses. «Work experience… twenty-seven years as a housewife?»
I lifted my chin. «Yes. And before that, I worked three years as a secretary.»
She chuckled. «Well, this isn’t an office job. A mop is heavier than a pen. The shifts are two days on, two days off, starting at 7 a.m. Can you handle it?»
«I can.»
At home, I told no one. I simply started waking up earlier. The first day, my hands shook as I signed the papers. The second, my whole body ached. The third, I caught myself thinking… I liked it.
«Mom, have you changed your hand cream?» Irina asked one evening. «Your hands feel… rough.»
«Yes,» I hid them under the table. «Trying something new.»
Sergey said nothing, but his skeptical glance said it all. He knew something was up.
In two weeks, I learned more than I had in the past five years. Like how Tamara from the first floor had three grandchildren and arthritis, but she still worked. Or that Nadya, a high school student, cleaned in the evenings to save for college. That cleaning wasn’t just a job—it was a kind of freedom.
«Anya,» Tamara asked during our break, «what are you thinking about?»
«Just wondering… why is cleaning work looked down on?»
She smirked. «Don’t mind appearances. What matters is that you’re doing something worthwhile.»
That evening, I came home later than usual. I tripped over a pile of shoes in the hallway. Dirty dishes filled the sink. 🍽️🙄
«Mom!» Irina appeared. «Can you help me with my resume? And dinner… you didn’t cook?»
«I can’t,» I said, putting on my coat. «I’m tired.»
«Tired from what? You were home all day!»
I looked at my dry, reddened hands. Then at my husband.
«Are you sure I was home?»
Sergey stiffened. «Wait… You’re serious?»
«Yes,» I said, walking to the kitchen. «And you know what? I actually enjoy it. At work, at least, I’m appreciated.»
Sergey sighed. «But why? We have money…»
«It’s not about money,» I set the kettle to boil. «It’s about feeling like a person.»
«Dinner’s in the microwave,» I added, leaving the room. «Heat it up.»
That day, the mall had a deep-clean. I was scrubbing a glass window when I heard a familiar voice:
«Yeah, Mom still can’t find a job…»
I turned. Irina stood nearby, talking on the phone.
«What? Yes, of course, it’s embarrassing… She leaves every morning but never says where she goes…»
I faced her. She froze, eyes wide as she saw me in my uniform.
«You… work here? As a cleaner?»
«Yes. It’s honest work.»
«Honest?!» Tears welled up in her eyes. «You’re embarrassing us!»
«And did you ever think that moving back in after your divorce was embarrassing?»
She was silent. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
«So, this is revenge?»
«No, sweetheart. This is my life.»
That night, Sergey wanted to talk. «Anya… wouldn’t you rather come back?»
«Not tonight.»
«Why?»
«Because it’s time we learned to live differently. I won’t be who I was before.»
I handed them a list of chores. «Everything will be divided equally. There will be rules.»
«Like what?» Sergey grumbled.
«Like no dirty dishes left for more than an hour.»
He stared at me. «Deal?»
«Deal,» he muttered. «But… teach me to make meatballs first?»
I smiled. «I’ll show you. There’s a difference, don’t you think?»
At that moment, I knew—everything had changed. ❤️
