At forty-one, Larisa found herself standing by the kitchen window, observing a neighbor place a stroller into the trunk of her vehicle. She still relied heavily on public transportation or the occasional use of her husband’s car. Her work as a designer demanded her presence all over town, with clients arranging meetings during inconvenient hours. Meanwhile, Larisa endured cramped buses, tightly clutching her portfolio.
“Lar, what’s on your mind?” Igor asked softly as he entered, sipping from his favorite coffee mug.
“Nothing much,” she replied, turning from the window. “Just work thoughts.”
Igor wrapped an arm around her shoulders, intuitively sensing the unspoken desires. “Thinking about a car again?”
Larisa stiffened slightly. They had already had this conversation several times. His aged Honda was constantly unavailable due to his job’s frequent site visits.
“You can’t spend your entire life dreaming,” she said, trying to sound light-hearted. “My birthday’s coming up; maybe a fairy godmother will appear with a magic wand.”
Though Igor said nothing, his eyes reflected something unreadable. Larisa didn’t note this, her mind busy planning her next appointment involving three transfers on public transit.
“Sometimes, the quietest gestures reveal the biggest intentions.”
Over the following fortnight, Igor’s behavior seemed peculiar – cutting short phone calls when she entered the room, smiling enigmatically, and avoiding direct answers. Suspicion began to take root in Larisa’s mind.
One evening at dinner, she probed, “Igor, you have not forgotten my thirty-fifth birthday in a week, have you?” She studied his expression closely.
“Of course not,” he replied, feigning slight offense. “I have something special planned for you.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“If I reveal it now, it won’t be a surprise, but I think you will love it,” he winked.
On Saturday morning, Igor rose early. The sound of his humming drifted from the shower as Larisa lay awake, feeling a warmth in her chest. “Dress nicely,” he instructed as he emerged, towel wrapped at the waist. “We have an errand to run.”
“An errand on a Saturday morning?” she asked curiously.
“You’ll see.”
Within an hour, they stood amid rows of pre-owned vehicles. Larisa barely dared to hope.
“Igor, are you serious?” she whispered.
“Choose one,” he smiled, “within our means, of course.”
Her gaze immediately settled on a vibrant red 2018 Mazda – compact and economical, yet spacious enough to carry her work materials.
“This one,” she said eagerly. “Can we look closer?”
The salesman, a friendly middle-aged man, vouched sincerely for the vehicle’s excellent condition — one previous owner, meticulous maintenance, and clean paperwork. Igor asked practical questions about fuel consumption and spare parts, while Larisa imagined the freedom to drive without dependence on bus schedules.
“Deal,” Igor confirmed, shaking hands. “We’ll pick it up Monday afternoon.”
As they returned home, Larisa thanked her husband repeatedly, envisioning parking spots, favorite playlists, and colleagues’ astonishment. This promised to be a birthday to remember.
- Larisa’s birthday was filled with hope and anticipation
- Igor’s secret preparations revealed his thoughtful nature
- The promised gift symbolized newfound independence
However, Sunday evening brought an unexpected phone call from Vika, Igor’s sister, who often diverted the family’s peace with appeals for help, financial or otherwise. At thirty-five, Vika still depended heavily on Igor’s support.
“Igor, I need to talk seriously,” Larisa heard from the hallway.
An hour-long discussion ensued. Though spoken quietly, the tone on Igor’s face shifted from surprise to sympathy and finally to somber determination.
“What happened?” Larisa asked when he returned, unsettled.
“It’s Vika. She’s pregnant,” he said seriously.
“Pregnant? And the father?” Larisa questioned sharply.
“She says it’s complicated. There’s no one to rely on. She intends to raise the child alone,” Igor replied.
A knot tightened in Larisa’s heart. Knowing Vika, any of her problems inevitably became Igor’s burden.
“What does she want from us?”
“Nothing concrete yet; she’s just asking for support,” Igor explained.
Come Monday, Larisa’s thirty-fifth birthday dawned bright with celebration and dreams of driving the car they would collect later.
Yet, at breakfast, Igor’s silence was palpable. Multiple attempts to start conversations fell flat.
“Why so down on my birthday?” she asked, pouring his coffee.
“There’s something I must tell you,” he began, voice trembling.
“I’m all ears,” Larisa said, bracing herself.
“Vika called again last night. She’s desperate for a car—to take the baby to doctors. She has nothing,” Igor confessed.
Larisa set down her cup, staring at him. Guilt and painful decision weighed heavily in his gaze.
“So, my gift will go to her?” she asked softly.
“I’m sorry, but she needs the car more,” he admitted.
Her entire world seemed to stall. The words felt unreal, as if filtered through thick glass.
“Repeat that,” she demanded quietly.
He sighed, less confidently. “Vika will receive the car. Her needs must come first.”
Standing up, she steadied herself with a firm voice, “If you prioritize your sister over me, then move in with her—with the car you’re giving away—and leave my apartment. This is my late mother’s property, and the car was meant for me.”
Igor looked baffled. “I don’t understand…”
“There’s nothing more to understand. I’m filing for divorce. I’m done playing second fiddle to Vika’s problems,” Larisa declared.
Shock drained Igor’s color. He had seen his wife exhausted but never with such cold determination.
“Larisa, wait. Please, let’s discuss this,” he pleaded.
“No discussion. You made your choice; I’ve made mine. Decide what matters before evening,” she said, grabbing her bag and heading out.
“Where are you going?”
“To work, by bus, like always—on my birthday,” she answered as the door softly clicked shut.
At the office, Larisa buried herself in work, curtly answering colleagues’ birthday questions. Igor’s calls were ignored, piling up by noon.
A call came from Vika around three.
“What’s this nonsense? Igor says you’re causing a scene over a car,” she sneered.
“Not over a car,” Larisa replied firmly. “But over you taking gifts without asking the intended recipient.”
“I’m pregnant! I need it more,” Vika insisted.
“Have you considered working and buying your own car?” Larisa countered.
“I’m pregnant! It’s hard for me!”
“Time to grow up,” Larisa said before ending the call.
Although anger shook her hands, a strange relief settled within. Years of Vika’s demands had exhausted her patience.
Returning home at seven, she found Igor slouched, gaze fixed on the kitchen wall.
“Well? Have you decided?” she asked, removing her jacket.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it through. I thought you’d understand,” he murmured.
“Igor, I’m thirty-five. I dreamed of owning a car for years. You promised me one. Then you chose your sister over your wife. Is that right?”
“It’s not like that…”
“Then explain,” Larisa insisted.
He paused, then sighed, “I contacted the dealer to confirm we’ll take the car.”
“And Vika?”
“I told her there won’t be any car, and now she’s very upset.”
“What did she say?”
“She called me names, accused me of betraying family for you.”
Larisa scoffed, “Funny. Isn’t a wife family?”
“Of course. Lar, forgive me. I gave in to her tears without thinking about you. Shall we pick it up tomorrow?”
Looking into his eyes, she saw genuine regret and a hidden fear — the fear of losing her.
“Alright. We’ll go,” she agreed.
Picking up the red Mazda the following day, Larisa slid behind the wheel, gently maneuvering through the lot and onto city streets. At last, she experienced a sense of liberation.
Three silent days passed before Vika called. Her uncertain voice drifted from the hallway.
The brief conversation that followed left Igor bewildered and angry upon returning to the room.
“What happened?” Larisa inquired.
“Vika admitted she isn’t pregnant. She lied to get the car,” he revealed.
Larisa closed her magazine and met his eyes.
“So she intentionally deceived you to take what was meant for me?”
“Looks that way,” Igor admitted.
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her I don’t want to speak with her for a while.”
Fatigue rather than triumph filled Larisa’s heart after enduring such needless turmoil.
“Igor, if I hadn’t drawn a line, you would have given her the car, and we’d never have uncovered her deceit,” she said softly.
He sat beside her, admitting, “I realize I’ve been foolish with Vika. She knows how to manipulate me.”
“That’s no excuse,” Larisa responded.
“I know. I’m sorry. And thank you for stopping me from making a mistake.”
She took his hand, “Next time, let’s make decisions together, agreed?”
“Agreed,” Igor nodded.
Outside, the evening city hummed quietly. The red Mazda waited in the courtyard—not just as transportation, but a symbol of personal boundaries and the strength needed to uphold them.
Reflecting, Larisa realized her thirty-fifth birthday, albeit delayed, had become truly meaningful—not because of the car alone, but because she finally voiced her truths.
Vika never sent birthday wishes. Yet Larisa felt no bitterness; some relationships thrive better in distance than in forced harmony. Each day, the car stood ready to take her wherever she wished, free from timetables and others’ demands.
Key Insight: Sometimes, standing firm on personal boundaries is the most powerful gift one can give themselves and their loved ones.
Ultimately, the story reminds us of the importance of prioritizing honesty, mutual respect, and communication within relationships to prevent misunderstandings and preserve individual dignity.