Lisa is a young actress in her twenties. After a long absence, she returns to her childhood home. A few years ago, she left, slamming the door behind her: her parents couldn’t accept her decision to become an actress. Now, Lisa returns, confused, vulnerable, and with something she cannot yet say out loud. She hopes for at least silent support, warmth—but faces the same disapproval. However, her parents can’t help but notice that something is wrong with her.

Lisa is greeted by her parents. Her mother is tall, fit, in a tracksuit, with a tense smile and a constant readiness to "keep the standards high." She fusses around the kitchen as if hosting a formal dinner. Her father is slightly hunched, with a dull gaze but wearing a freshly pressed shirt, evidently at his wife’s request. He looks at Lisa with empathy, but remains silent.
Her mother sets the table.

"Do you want some soup?" she asks.
"No, thanks," replies Lisa.
"Of course, as always. Why did I even cook?"
Lisa gets up from the table.
"Mum, I’m tired. I’ll go."
Her mother grabs her hand.
"Lisa, wait. Don’t leave like this. Let’s go for a walk. Just like before. Let’s jog a little—it’ll help. Really. I just want to talk to you."

Her mother tries to take the first step toward reconciliation and leads Lisa on a joint jog, just like they did when Lisa was a child. They walk through a quiet neighborhood, down familiar streets where Lisa rode her bike, fell, cried—and where she was taught not to cry. This helps Lisa, and it seems she’s finally about to share what happened. But her mother "beats her to it," and their conversation quickly turns to judgment about Lisa’s "unnormal" life and profession, with hints that Lisa got pregnant by some junkie artist. Lisa doesn’t respond. She just walks away. Step by step, into the darkness.

The argument doesn’t end after the jog—Lisa’s father, despite his clear sympathy for her, succumbs to his wife’s opinion and sides with her. However, he doesn’t do this actively—he just disappears from sight, supposedly busy with some household chores.

Lisa is horrified. The only positive emotion she felt after returning home was a brief, but pleasant meeting with her childhood neighbor, Vitya. He asks, "You’re back?" and she hesitantly replies, "For now—just came to visit." They smile and reminisce about childhood jokes. This seemingly insignificant moment already holds a crack through which light will later pour.
The next morning, Lisa practices in front of the mirror how to tell her parents that she’s pregnant and knows they won’t support her, so she’ll leave today. But when she leaves the room, she discovers something inexplicable: her parents have turned into... children.

Her mother is now an eight-year-old girl with her hair tied into a perfect ponytail. She wears a neat pajama with embroidery and carefully arranges napkins on the table. Her voice rings out loudly, as if trying to drown out the noise in her head. She makes her own schedule for the day, draws a list of tasks on paper, and pretends to read a newspaper. But when Lisa looks away, her mother immediately gets anxious: "You’re not even looking at what I’ve made. I worked hard on it! It’s beautiful!"
Her father is now a seven-year-old boy in a stretched T-shirt, constantly muttering "Sorry" and confusing his socks. He brings Lisa water, then tea, then water again—and says nothing. He often sits on the windowsill, staring out. At any sharp word, he freezes. One day, Lisa notices him reassuring himself: "It’s okay. The most important thing is that no one gets angry."
Throughout the day, everything becomes increasingly chaotic. Her mother tries to win Lisa’s attention: she draws, then sings, then persuades Lisa to play dress-up, pulling out her dresses. At one point, she takes Lisa’s makeup and starts applying it, looking in the mirror: "Look how good I am! I’m beautiful too! I’m an actress!" Lisa becomes more and more irritated, and this affects her "childlike" parents in different ways.

Lisa can’t find her father—he’s hidden behind some cleaning supplies on the balcony, shivering in the cold, but trying not to make a sound. Lisa brings him back to the room and wraps him in a blanket. She then sees her mother—her childlike mother—in her dress, with smeared lipstick, trying to be her. Suddenly, everything inside Lisa snaps. She screams. She can’t stop. It’s not anger—it’s exhaustion. It’s the scream of the little girl who was never listened to.
Her mother gets scared. In panic, she runs, knocking over a mirror, which falls and shatters. Blood. Her father disappears again. Lisa is on her knees, unable to understand how all of this is possible. That evening, she tucks the children into bed. They’re silent. They don’t hug her. They turn away. Lisa suddenly realizes: she has taken their place.

Lisa goes outside, not knowing where to go. In the park, she sees Vitya. He’s sitting on a bench, drinking tea from a thermos. Without a word, she sits next to him.
"Sometimes adults act worse than children," he says after a minute of silence.
"Do you think they even know how to be adults?" she replies.
He pulls out a photograph. It’s of him and his father—both in shiny hats with magician’s sticks. "He loved me. But I didn’t know how to handle it. I hid. And then he disappeared. And I realized no one was left to play with me." Lisa looks at him. And for the first time in a long while, she doesn’t try to find the right words.

Finale:
Lisa sits in the kitchen, holding the pregnancy test, not daring to check the result. She looks out the window. She hears footsteps. A little father steps out of the darkness, takes a blanket, covers her, and sits next to her. Quiet, shy, like a boy who is scared but came anyway. In the doorway stands her mother—silently, barefoot, in Lisa’s shirt, with smeared lipstick. She just looks at her. Lisa lifts her eyes.

"Have you always been like this?" she whispers, not sure if she’s asking them or herself.
The camera lingers on their faces—first the adult parents, then their childlike faces—alternating between them, like through a mirror. In these faces lies everything they tried to hide. And everything Lisa finally managed to see. She takes a deep breath, grips the test a little tighter. This isn’t the answer. But for the first time, she feels like she’s not alone. And maybe, this is just the beginning.