After the operation, the doctor strictly warned me: no physical effort, no lifting, no standing for too long — otherwise, the stitches could tear. I just dreamed of coming home, lying down in my own bed, and finally resting. But what I saw when I opened the door left me frozen in place.

Dirty footprints all over the floor, crumpled napkins in the living room, empty bottles, overturned glasses. In the kitchen — a mountain of unwashed dishes, dried food scraps on the table, a sticky floor, and the smell of alcohol everywhere.