Masha nervously twisted the ring on her ring finger, staring at the notification in her banking app. Negative again. Once more she had to choose between a week’s groceries and new sneakers for Alisa. The girl was growing like a weed, and children’s shoes cost an arm and a leg.

“Mom, when are we going to Grandma’s dacha?” ten-year-old Alisa looked up from her tablet, where she was drawing yet another unicorn.

“I don’t know, sunshine. Maybe this weekend.”

“And are we going to the sea? Vera says Grandma promised to take us to the Black Sea this summer. Grown-ups keep their promises when they say something, right?”

Masha felt the familiar tightness in her chest.

Vera was the daughter of her younger brother Dima, who, after university, got a job at an IT company, bought a huge apartment in a new development, and regularly posted vacation photos from expensive resorts on social media.

“We’ll see,” the woman answered evasively.

In truth, she had no other answer for the girl. She couldn’t afford a seaside vacation. It had been two years since the divorce; child support came irregularly, and the salary of a copywriter at a small agency only let her make ends meet. The sea remained a pretty dream from other people’s social media.

Suddenly the phone rang through the whole apartment.

“Mashenka, hello. How are you two? I hope everything’s fine. Because things aren’t so good for us!” Galina Petrovna said apologetically. “I wanted to tell you… Your dad and I decided to cancel the trip to the sea with the kids.”

Masha was surprised.

Just a month ago her parents had been enthusiastically planning to take all the grandkids—Alisa, Vera, and little Yegor from Dima—for a week to Anapa. The kids were already getting ready, buying inflatable rings, discussing what shells they’d collect.

“Why?” the woman asked, though the answer was obvious.

“Well, we decided to start a renovation in the bathroom. The tiles are practically falling off; we can’t put up with it anymore. And extra money, you understand, we don’t have.”

Masha understood. Her parents lived on two pensions and pinched every penny. A vacation with three children was a serious expense.

“Alright, Mom, don’t worry. The kids will understand.”

“Just don’t tell Alisa yet, I’ll explain it to her myself on the weekend, okay?”

After the call Masha sat in the kitchen for a long time, staring at the peeling wallpaper. She felt sorry for Alisa. The girl had been looking forward to the trip, had already set aside a sun hat and sunglasses she bought on sale.

On the weekend they went to her parents’. The dacha was in an old garden cooperative where plots were cheap and neighbors still said hello and shared cucumbers.

Masha loved this place. Here you could relax, stop thinking about bills, and not count every last kopek.

“Alisochka,” Grandma began carefully after the girl had run herself ragged around the plot, “Grandpa and I are forced to cancel the trip to the sea.”

The girl’s face became serious at once.

“Cancel it completely?”

“Completely. We have to do a renovation, you see? And there isn’t enough money for everything.”

Alisa nodded with that stoic calm that, for some reason, is typical of children from families without much money. They learn earlier than others that wishes don’t always match possibilities.

“It’s okay, Grandma. Maybe next year.”

Galina Petrovna hugged her granddaughter, and Masha noticed the tears glint in her daughter’s eyes.

Two weeks passed.

Masha was sitting in the office, proofreading yet another text about “the revolutionary potential of blockchain in logistics,” when her phone pinged with a VKontakte notification. Her coworker Sveta at the next desk had posted photos from the corporate party.

Masha idly scrolled the feed—and froze.

On the screen was a photo of her niece Vera with the sea behind her. The girl was smiling, holding a huge seashell. The caption read:

“Anapa, children’s beach. Vera is thrilled!” The post’s author—her sister-in-law Yulia, Dima’s wife.

Masha felt the blood drain from her face. Her fingers trembled as she swiped through the carousel.

Another photo… Vera and little Yegor building a sandcastle. Grandpa teaching Vera to swim. Grandma buying the kids ice cream on the promenade.

So they all went. Except Alisa.

“Why are you so pale?” Sveta looked up from her computer. “Bad news?”

“Not exactly,” Masha quickly closed the app. “It’s just… family stuff.”

The rest of the day passed in a fog. Masha couldn’t focus on work, her thoughts kept returning to what she’d seen.

Why did they lie to her? There wasn’t money for three kids, but there was for two? Or was it not about money at all?

She tried to find a rational explanation for her parents’ betrayal.

Maybe something changed at the last minute? But then why didn’t they call and offer for Alisa to join?

She would have paid for everything! She would have found the money somehow, even if she had to take out a loan. Why?… There were more questions than answers.

In the evening, when her daughter was doing homework, Masha decided to call her mother after all.

“Hi, Mom. How are you? How’s the vacation? Just so you know, I saw the photos of Vera at the sea, so don’t try to dodge it! You took all the grandkids to the resort except my daughter! Is that normal, Mom?”

“Mashenka, I can explain…”

“Explain.”

Galina Petrovna sighed and said uncertainly:

“Dima himself offered to pay extra for his kids. He said they were already set on it, had bought train tickets. And you understand, his possibilities aren’t like yours.”

“And why didn’t you offer me to pay extra too?”

Her mother was silent for a moment.

“Well… we thought things were tough for you right now. We didn’t want to put you in an awkward position!”

Masha smirked. How delicate! Deciding for her what she could handle and what she couldn’t.

“Mom, what if I could have found the money?”

“Mashenka, please don’t be upset. What’s the point of this idle talk now? Ifs and maybes! We didn’t mean… It just turned out awkward…”

After the call the woman sat on the couch for a long time, digesting what she’d heard. Hurt burned inside her, but even stronger was the feeling of humiliation. They had brazenly crossed her out of the family plans. They decided it was better to lie about renovations than to honestly say: there isn’t money for everyone, and Dima’s kids are more important.

“Mom, I finished my homework! Can I go visit Vera? Or let’s go to Grandma’s, see her new bathroom!” Alisa said, appearing in the doorway with her math book.

“The renovation’s been postponed,” Masha answered dryly. “Turns out the money was needed for other things.”

The girl frowned, clearly not understanding, but there was something in her mother’s voice that made her not ask extra questions.

That night Masha didn’t sleep.

She lay in the dark thinking how to explain to her daughter that they’d been lied to. That Grandma and Grandpa took the other grandkids to the sea and “forgot” about her. That in the family hierarchy there are first- and second-class grandchildren.

Then another thought came. A bitter one, but clear.

What if she showed everyone that Alisa is no worse than the others? That her mother can give her a vacation better than the doting grandparents can.

Masha woke up knowing clearly that what she needed first was a concrete plan. Not a tantrum, not a showdown with shouting and tears—a plan.

Cold, thought-out, and effective.

Over breakfast she watched her daughter closely. Alisa was spreading jam on bread, swinging her legs under the table and humming a TikTok tune. Carefree, trusting. She didn’t know what was going on in the family, didn’t suspect the grandparents’ betrayal. And Masha decided she didn’t need to know yet.

“Alis, would you like to go somewhere this summer?”

“To the sea!” the girl’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe to Petersburg? Or Kazan? There’s a new waterpark there.”

“No, I want the sea. If you have money for the trip.”

Masha smiled, trying to make the smile look confident:

“There will be! I promise you!”

At work the first thing she did was check her savings account. The amount was modest. Around forty thousand. That would be enough for a week in Anapa, but then she’d have to forget about any time off for the rest of the year and live on buckwheat.

“Sveta,” she turned to her coworker, “do you know where I can pick up some quick side work?”

“Quick?” Sveta mused. “Listen, I’ve got a client who needs content for a medical site. Pays well, but it’s a lot. You could make about twenty thousand in a week if you grind in the evenings.”

“Give me the contact!”

In the evenings, after Alisa went to bed, Masha sat down to the extra work. She wrote about varicose vein symptoms, methods of treating gastritis, and osteoporosis prevention. Her eyes stuck together, her fingers went numb, but she kept going. One thought spun in her head: she had to show all the relatives that Masha’s daughter is no worse than the others.

Three days later her mother called:

“Mashenka, we’re coming back tomorrow. Want us to bring shells for Alisa?”

“No need,” Masha replied coolly. “We’ve got our own trip planned.”

“What trip?”

“To the sea. To Sochi!”

She lied about Sochi. They definitely didn’t have money for a resort at that level. But her parents didn’t need to know that.

“Mashenka, where did you get the money? You said things were hard now…”

“I found some. I picked up extra work.”

There was a note of worry in her mother’s voice:

“You didn’t go into debt, did you?”

“I didn’t. I earned it fair and square.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? We could have all gone together…”

Masha smirked. How touching, this concern! After everything had already been decided without her.

“Well, you didn’t tell me about your plans either. So we’re even! Right, Mom?”

The next day her parents returned from the resort. Grandpa brought photos, Grandma talked about how well the kids behaved and how lovely the promenade was.

“And Mom and I are going to the sea, too!” Alisa announced happily when they arrived at the dacha.

“Where are you going?” Grandpa looked at Masha in surprise.

“To Sochi. For a week!”

“Seriously?” Dima, who’d come to pick up his kids, looked up from his phone. “Where are you staying?”

Masha named the first hotel she’d found online:

“‘Morskaya Zvezda’—Sea Star. Three stars, but good reviews.”

“Must be pricey,” sister-in-law Yulia said enviously. “We looked at Sochi last year, but the prices were biting.”

“It’s fine, we can manage,” Masha answered evenly.

She saw her parents exchange glances and Dima frown. They were clearly puzzled: where did she get the money? But they didn’t dare ask directly.

In the evening, when they were alone with her parents, her mother couldn’t hold back:

“Mash, you’re sure you didn’t borrow?”

“Mom, I’m a grown woman. I’ll handle my finances.”

“It’s just that I worry. What if you decided this because you’re upset with us…”

“Mom,” Masha looked at her closely, “what makes you think I’m upset? What would I be upset about?”

Galina Petrovna lowered her eyes guiltily.

When Masha totaled all the money she’d saved, it turned out she was short almost thirty thousand for Sochi. Anapa would have been affordable, but she’d already told her parents about Sochi, and she didn’t want to back down.

“Lena,” she called her childhood friend, “can you lend me thirty thousand? I’ll pay you back in two months, I promise.”

“What happened?” Lena, who worked as a bank manager, was always practical and cautious about money.

“I need to take my daughter to the sea. It’s really important.”

“Mash, are you sure that’s the right decision? Maybe you shouldn’t go into debt?”

Masha clenched her teeth. Everyone around her thought she was irresponsible. Her parents, her friend—everyone knew what was best for her!

“Lena, will you help me or not?”

“Alright, I’ll help. But promise me this won’t become a habit.”

A week later she and Alisa were sitting on the Moscow–Sochi train. The girl couldn’t sit still: she gazed out the window at the scenery, chatted with fellow passengers, and took photos of every roadside pole.

“Mom, are there jellyfish in the sea? What about sharks? Are we going to swim every day?”

Masha smiled and answered the endless questions, but inside her anxiety was growing. The money was tight. The hotel was inexpensive, the food simple, entertainment minimal. But the main thing was something else—to show all the relatives they could afford this.

The “Morskaya Zvezda” hotel turned out to be modest but clean. They had a room on the second floor with a mountain view—there wasn’t enough to pay extra for a sea view.

Alisa was thrilled with everything: the air conditioner, the little TV, the tiny balcony with plastic chairs.

On the third day, while her daughter built sandcastles, Masha went over the expenses. The math was merciless. There was money left for three days, and four days remained until departure. She needed to come up with something fast.

In the evening, after Alisa fell asleep, she opened her laptop and started looking for side gigs. She scrolled through dozens of listings: waitresses for cafés, promoters on the promenade, souvenir sellers. But with a child in tow that was unrealistic.

Then she came across an ad: “Copywriter needed for urgent project. Remote work. Payment immediately after completion.”

Masha quickly dialed the number.

“Hello, good evening. I’m calling about the copywriting job.”

“Yes, yes,” a pleasant female voice answered. “Are you from Sochi?”

“No, from Moscow, but I’m here now. On vacation with my daughter.”

“Do you have experience in the tourism sector?”

“Yes. I’ve written for several travel agencies.”

“Excellent. Let’s meet tomorrow. I need several texts for a website, urgently. If you manage, there may be long-term cooperation.”

They agreed to meet at a café on the promenade. The woman introduced herself as Viktoria.

The next day, leaving Alisa under the supervision of the hotel’s kids’ club animator, Masha went to the meeting. Viktoria turned out to be an elegant woman of about forty-five.

“I own a travel company called Southern Vector,” she got right to the point. “We urgently need to rewrite the site section about excursion tours. The copywriter bailed. Took an advance and disappeared.”

They talked for an hour.

Viktoria explained the requirements and showed examples. Masha asked questions, demonstrating she understood the specifics.

“Alright,” Viktoria finally said. “Deadline—two days, scope—ten texts of a thousand characters each. Payment fifteen thousand. Does that work?”

“More than!” Masha could barely contain her joy. Fifteen thousand would cover all the holes in the trip budget.

“If you do it well, we’ll talk about permanent cooperation. I need reliable people.”

For the next two days Masha worked like a woman possessed. While Alisa splashed in the pool or took part in kids’ contests, she hammered out copy. She weighed every adjective, polished every sentence.

“Mom, why are you typing all the time?” her daughter asked, peeking over her shoulder.

“I’m working a little, sunshine. So we have enough money for ice cream and souvenirs.”

“Can I help you?”

“Of course. Tell me what you liked most about Sochi.”

Alisa eagerly started listing: the dolphinarium, the cable car, the huge waves that knocked her over, the ice cream with three scoops. Her childlike delight helped Masha find the right tone for family tours.

When the texts were ready, she read them three times, corrected every comma, and sent them to Viktoria.

The reply came two hours later:

“Masha, this is excellent! Exactly what we needed. I’d like to meet again. I have a more serious proposal for you.”

They met at the same café on the promenade.

“Your texts show that you’re not just a copywriter,” Viktoria began enthusiastically. “You understand the client’s psychology and know how to sell emotions. I need someone like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Move to Sochi. Head the marketing department in my company. Salary starting at three hundred thousand a month, plus a percentage from successful projects. We’ll rent you housing at the company’s expense at first, then help with a subsidized mortgage.”

Masha felt slightly dizzy.

“Viktoria, this is very unexpected…”

“I have big plans. We’re opening new destinations, going national. I need a team of people who think strategically. I need people like you.”

“And my daughter’s school? A new place…”

“Sochi has excellent schools. Imagine—your child will grow up by the sea, not in Moscow smog. It’s a dream for many parents.”

The day before departure Masha made her decision.

“Viktoria, I agree!”

The women talked all evening. Viktoria turned out to be not only a successful businesswoman but also an interesting person. She told her story—how she went from travel-agency manager to owner of her own company—and shared her business development plans.

“You know,” she said, “I have a feeling we’ll become good friends.”

When she and Alisa returned to Moscow, the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Her mother, Dima, even Yulia called. Suddenly everyone was incredibly interested in their trip.

“Mashenka, how was it?” her mother asked ingratiatingly. “Was Alisochka happy?”

“She was. Mom, I have news. We’re moving to Sochi.”

“What do you mean, moving?”

“I got a job offer. A very good job.”

“Mashenka, maybe you shouldn’t rush? Moving is serious…”

“I’ve already decided.”

After that the calls became more frequent.

Dima wanted to know what neighborhood the apartment would be in, whether there were good hotels nearby. Yulia asked about the climate and schools—“maybe we should consider moving south too.” Her parents hinted that “it wouldn’t hurt to invite Grandma and Grandpa to visit from time to time.”

Masha answered politely but curtly. She thanked them for their advice with a chill. To direct requests for invitations she gave the same answer:

“We’ll see how we settle in.”

Six months later, when she and Alisa were already living in a bright three-room apartment with a sea view, when her daughter had settled perfectly into the new school and made lots of friends, the relatives finally dared to make a direct request.

“Mashenka,” her mother called, “we’d like to come visit you for the May holidays.”

“Of course,” Masha replied calmly. “The ‘Zhemchuzhina’ hotel is near us, has good reviews. A room for a week is about forty thousand.”

“What do you mean, a hotel? We thought…”

“Thought what, Mom?”

“Well… your apartment is big…”

“I have a home office, Alisa has her room, and we share a bedroom. There’s no spare room.”

A tense pause hung in the air.

“And Dima was asking if you have contacts in the travel business. Maybe you could get a discount…”

“I do have contacts. But they give discounts only to proven partners. So… any whim, but on your dime!”

In the evening Masha stood on the balcony, listening to the sound of the surf. Alisa was doing her homework, humming some tune.

Things at the company were going great. Her projects had brought in significant profits, and Viktoria was pleased.

A notification came from social media. Dima had posted a photo from a family dinner at their parents’. The caption read:

“Such a pity not everyone can be around in hard times.”

Masha smirked and closed the app. She had a new life, a true friend in Viktoria, interesting work, and a daughter who woke up each morning to the sound of the sea.

Justice had triumphed in the best possible way—not through revenge, but through success.