The Secret That Shattered the Family
Sergei’s sister, whom he had always believed to be his mother, had fallen gravely ill.
*”Seryozha, I don’t have long left,”* she whispered, her voice trembling with weakness. *”Promise me you won’t tell Ilya or Marina the secret I’m about to reveal. And do everything to keep the family together after I’m gone…”*
*”I promise,”* Sergei answered firmly, squeezing her cold hand. He loved her, though she had always favored Ilya and Marina more.
*”Seryozha… we are not mother and son…”* she murmured softly.
Sergei froze, his chest tightening with dread. What could she possibly mean?
*”Ilya, we should sell the family house out in the middle of nowhere near Voronezh,”* Marina insisted. *”Who needs that old shack? Let it sit empty? Better to sell and split the money!”*
*”Marina, the house costs nothing to keep. Life’s unpredictable—what if we need it? You, me, Sergei… we’ll always have somewhere to return to,”* Ilya argued.
*”Costs nothing? Who’s paying the utilities for this ‘palace’ with a view of a rundown field?”* Marina sneered, her usual haughty expression twisting her lips. *”Wait until we’re old? I want to live now!”*
Marina worked as an accountant at a local firm. Her husband, Viktor, was a delivery driver. She considered it charity to have married him, while her mother-in-law dreamed of her son dumping *”that arrogant gold-digger who flounces around bars with her girlfriends—or worse.”* Marina’s life was a cycle of fights with her mother-in-law and futile attempts to push Viktor into further education to *”make something of himself.”* Viktor brushed it off, dismissing it as nagging, unaware his wife was already eyeing someone *”more promising.”* He mistook his mother’s warnings for jealousy and took pride in refusing to believe Marina might want more. His love for her had faded, but she was the only spark in his dull life.
Ilya, meanwhile, considered himself the most successful of the three. He worked in city administration, climbing the ranks quickly, and moved to Voronezh, where he was given a government flat. He lived with his wife, Olga, and their two children—twelve-year-old Misha and six-year-old Liza. His salary was modest, leaving little room for luxury. Olga had tried opening a dressmaking business, but it failed, and she settled for *”a bird in the hand.”* Ilya knew Sergei and Marina had no children and secretly hoped the family house would one day go to his. He never voiced it, but the thought comforted him.
Ilya had another family—his mistress, Katya, and their two sons. He had been with her nearly as long as with Olga. Once torn between them, he married Olga after she got pregnant first. She suspected Katya’s existence but stayed silent—she had nowhere else to go, no home of her own. Ilya took advantage, playing the devoted husband.
*”Sergei, it’s Marina. I spoke to Ilya—he won’t sell his share. Back me up!”* Marina finally got through to Sergei, who was away on another work trip.
*”Marina, you know I don’t need the money. Sort it out with Ilya—I’ll accept whatever you decide,”* Sergei cut in.
*”You always distance yourself from family matters!”* she snapped. *”I want a divorce from Viktor, a fresh start. I need money for a flat. No man’s going to chase a thirty-five-year-old with no home! And Vitya’s flat is his only redeeming quality.”*
*”I know your plans, but I don’t support them. Without Viktor, you’ll lose yourself. Remember how many times I dragged you out of trouble?”* Sergei reminded her.
Sergei, the eldest, was doing well. He had planned to back Ilya and keep the house, but his sister’s revelation changed everything.
*”Ilya, Marina wants to sell her share. You’re doing fine—what if I give you mine and you buy hers? The house will be yours, everyone’s happy,”* he suggested.
*”Who do you take me for?”* Ilya growled. *”Marina will demand full price! If she gets desperate, I’ll lowball her. But sure, gift me your share—I won’t say no. You’re the rich one here!”*
The five-year age gap didn’t stop Ilya from resenting Sergei. He envied his success, schemed behind his back. Marina irritated him too, but they maintained a fragile truce. Sergei’s calmness infuriated them both—Marina masked her disdain with flattery, while Ilya openly sneered.
Sergei remembered his sister’s words—the woman he’d always called *Mother*:
*”Seryozha, I don’t have long. Promise you won’t tell Ilya and Marina the secret I’m about to share. And keep the family at peace after I’m gone.”*
She was weak, worn down by illness and grief—her husband, whom she’d loved more than life, had died a year earlier from heart failure. Sergei had been raised by his grandparents but never blamed her. Though she visited rarely, favoring Ilya and Marina, he loved her and was ready to carry any burden.
*”Seryozha, we’re not mother and son… You’re my brother… by father. You’re his mistress’s child. He raised you as his grandson,”* her voice shook. *”My mother—your grandmother—wouldn’t let him claim you. I had to adopt you. I loved Father so much…”*
Sergei couldn’t believe it. The woman he called *Mother* was his sister. His grandfather—his father.
*”Why didn’t you say anything? Where’s my real mother?”*
*”I never knew her. Father paid her off—she vanished, gave you up.”* She sighed. *”I wouldn’t have told you, but I fear for Ilya and Marina. Marina’s reckless, Ilya’s eaten by envy. I failed all of you.”*
*”Did you stay away because of me?”*
*”No, my husband hated children. Said if I took Ilya and Marina, they’d leave on their own. I couldn’t leave him. But do you love me?”*
*”Always. Even more now,”* Sergei answered, fighting back tears.
*”I know. Marina thinks I was a bad mother, Ilya blames Father and resents me. My life… wasted. Even my house overlooking that old cemetery… I wanted to fix the past, but I missed the present. Will you look after them?”*
Sergei nodded, holding her. He had accepted long ago that she loved Ilya and Marina more.
The fate of the house had been debated for years. Sergei couldn’t find a solution. Ilya kept needling, Marina schemed. They spoke the same language, but every word dripped with spite.
*”Ilya, the neighbor downstairs flooded the place. Worried he’ll forget to shut the gas off. I’ll insure the house,”* Sergei said.
Ilya heard only mockery: *”I’m better than you, rich man, and you’re a failure!”*
*”Thanks for the charity! That it?”* he barked.
Marina was no different. To the same offer, she cooed:
*”Oh, Seryozha, what would we do without you! Already paid? You’re a genius!”*
But Sergei knew her flattery masked contempt. He pitied her—once kind, now hardened by arrogance. Life had broken her.
One day, Ilya called Marina:
*”Sergei sent a lawyer. Transferred his share to us—half each. Said he’s done with us. Did you upset him?”*
*”I didn’t say anything! He’s always been odd. Let him sulk—he’ll come back. But I’m keeping my share,”* she huffed.
Ilya regretted his harshness, but it was too late. Neither he nor Marina had valued Sergei, never realizing what they’d lost.
*”Sergei Petrovich, it’s done. Good timing on the insurance—the neighbor caused a gas leak. The house is damaged, everyone’s been evacuated,”* the lawyer reported.
*”Will Ilya and Marina get compensation?”* Sergei asked.
*”Yes, I’ll handle it.”*
*”I kept my promise,”* Sergei said, gazing at his sister’s photo. He could never call her anything but *Mother*.
Who had he been to Ilya and Marina? An outsider? No—he’d carried them for years. But he saw now that his help only enabled them. By giving up his share, he walked away.
As his sister had said: *”I tried to fix the past but missed the present.”* He wouldn’t make the same mistake. The house overlooking the graveyard wasThe house overlooking the graveyard was gone, and Sergei—free at last—stepped into the quiet unknown of his own future.
