Lera had always imagined her thirtieth birthday differently. As a child, she thought by thirty she’d have it all: a fulfilling career, children, a cozy home with a garden and a white picket fence. Reality turned out more complex—and, in some ways, better.
She had Maksim, her husband of eight years. She had a job she enjoyed, working from home in digital marketing. They owned a modest but comfortable two-bedroom apartment. She went to the gym, treated herself to self-care, and lived a life that felt peaceful, even if it wasn’t picture-perfect.
The only things missing were children. And complete mutual understanding.
“Let’s not invite your parents,” Lera said a week before her birthday, stirring her coffee. The autumn wind rustled outside the window. “I’d really like a quiet celebration. Just you, Anya, Dimka, and Svetka.”
Maksim looked up from his laptop. “They’ll be disappointed,” he said gently.
“And I’ll be disappointed if they come,” she replied. “I just don’t want to hear about how I should be starting a family or whether freelancing counts as a ‘real’ job. Not on my birthday.”
He closed his laptop and considered her words carefully.
“Alright,” he said. “I won’t tell them where we’re going.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. I’ll say it’s just the two of us.”
Lera smiled and gave him a hug. “Thank you. I just want one day where I don’t have to explain myself.”
They chose a cozy little restaurant called *Granat*. It wasn’t fancy, but it had charm—wooden tables, soft lighting, and warm food that made people linger. The perfect setting for an intimate evening.
Anya arrived first—Lera’s closest friend since college. She brought white roses and a box of macarons.
“Happy birthday, you wise old soul,” she teased.
“You’re older than me by two months,” Lera grinned.
Then came Dimka and Svetka with Maksim. They’d been friends for years—easygoing, supportive, and never the type to pry.
“Lera,” Svetka said, handing her a little box. “I remembered you liked these earrings.”
Lera opened it to find simple, elegant studs—exactly her style.
The evening flowed with laughter, stories, and gentle toasts.
“To Lera,” said Dimka. “May the next thirty years be even brighter.”
“To love,” Maksim added, raising his glass.
Everything felt just right—until the door opened, and Maksim’s parents walked in.
Lera’s heart skipped.
His mother, Anna Sergeyevna, was dressed neatly, her expression unreadable. His father held a bouquet of gladioli—bright, almost jarringly festive.
“Well, here you are,” Anna Sergeyevna said, approaching. “Maksim, why didn’t you tell us?”
Lera looked at her husband. His gaze was downcast.
“Happy birthday,” said his father, giving her the flowers. The scent was strong and unfamiliar.
“Thank you,” Lera managed.
“What a strange place,” Anna Sergeyevna commented, looking around. “You could’ve picked a proper restaurant for such a big birthday.”
The mood at the table shifted. Friends glanced at each other quietly. Lera felt tension tighten around her.
Anna Sergeyevna raised her glass. “Let’s toast our Lera. May this be the year she finds true fulfillment—especially as a mother. After all, thirty is a very meaningful age.”
Lera looked at her husband, who said nothing.
“At your age, we were already raising children,” his mother continued.
“Times are different,” Svetka offered gently.
“Biology hasn’t changed,” Anna Sergeyevna replied. “The clock doesn’t stop for anyone.”
Lera’s hands trembled under the table.
“And who are these?” she asked, gesturing toward Lera’s friends.
“They’re our friends,” Maksim replied.
“Oh. I thought you’d invite Irochka—you know, Volodya’s daughter? She has a husband and two lovely kids.”
“Mom,” Maksim said, trying to redirect.
“Friends are fine,” she continued, “but family is everything. Student friends, remote work… That’s all temporary.”
“I’ve been freelancing for years,” Lera said calmly. “It’s stable. I have regular clients.”
“Well, sure,” Anna Sergeyevna smiled politely. “But wouldn’t it be better to have a secure office job? With benefits, and a path to maternity leave?” She added the last part as if it were casual.
Lera took a deep breath.
“I’m happy with my job. And with our life.”
“But what’s a family without children?” her mother-in-law asked.
At that moment, something inside Lera shifted.
“I think it’s time to wrap up,” she said, standing up.
“What?” Anna Sergeyevna looked surprised.
“I’d like you to leave, please. This was supposed to be a calm evening. And I don’t want to feel like I have to defend my choices today.”
Maksim stayed seated, silent.
“Do you hear her?” Anna Sergeyevna turned to him.
He looked torn. “I told them where we’d be,” he admitted softly. “I didn’t want to lie.”
Lera felt like the ground moved beneath her.
“You said you wouldn’t,” she whispered.
“I thought it wouldn’t hurt,” he replied. “They just wanted to say happy birthday.”
“They did more than that,” she said. “And you knew they would.”
She turned to her friend. “Anya, let’s go.”
“Lera, wait—” Maksim stood, reaching out.
“You go with your family,” she said. “I’m going with mine.”
Outside in the taxi, Anya gently muttered, “Some people just don’t understand boundaries.”
Lera laughed through tears. “And some never will.”
They went to a nearby karaoke lounge. It was loud, full of energy, and exactly what Lera needed. She and Anya sang everything from pop to retro ballads. Each song made her feel lighter.
Her phone buzzed with messages from Maksim, but she didn’t respond.
Later that night, Anya turned to her and asked, “Do you think this was a turning point?”
Lera nodded slowly. “I think it might be.”
“Not necessarily the end,” Anya said. “But maybe the beginning of something more honest.”
They clinked glasses again and sang late into the night.
When Lera got home, Maksim was sitting in the hallway.
“Lera,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll talk in the morning.”
And in the morning, they did.
“I just didn’t want to argue with them again,” Maksim admitted. “It’s easier to avoid conflict.”
“Except it creates conflict with me,” Lera said. “And I’m your partner.”
He was quiet.
“I’m thirty,” she said. “I don’t want to spend the next ten years trying to explain why I deserve respect.”
Maksim nodded. “You’re right.”
A few days later, he came home and said:
“I spoke with them. I told them things need to change. I set boundaries.”
“And they?”
“They weren’t happy. But I meant what I said. I choose you.”
Lera looked at him and saw something new in his eyes—not just regret, but resolve.
“Then maybe,” she said, “this really *is* the beginning.”
