– Yurochka, dear, move the sofa here. And this wardrobe – my God, who put it here? Straight to the trash heap, and it will immediately become more spacious, – Tatyana Vasilyevna’s instructions were heard with an intonation as if she was supervising the reconstruction of a palace.
Kira carefully turned the key, trying not to make a sound. In the hallway, she was met by mountains of things: suitcases, bags, some rags and even felt boots. And in the living room, her mother-in-law, like the main strategist, commanded two movers. Yuri stood nearby, nodding obediently, like a mechanical toy.
“And what kind of performance is this with the furniture?” Kira said coldly, stopping at the threshold, as if she had caught them doing something indecent.
– Oh, Kirochka, my dear! Are you home already? – Tatyana Vasilyevna exclaimed, clapping her hands theatrically. – We’re just updating the interior a little. Nothing serious, don’t worry.
– What other “interior”? – Kira turned her gaze to Yuri. – Yura, are you out of your mind? What does all this mean?
– Well, you see… – Yuri began, like a schoolboy being interrogated by a teacher. – Mom and Dad have… problems. She’ll be staying with us temporarily. Just for a little while.
“Temporarily?” Kira asked, taking a step back. “How long is that? A day? A week? Or are you planning to surprise me with the number ‘six months’?”
– Oh, come on, Kira, don’t exaggerate, – Tatyana Vasilyevna waved her hand. – Three months, maybe four. While I’m here… I’ll come to my senses. You have plenty of space. I’ll be careful.
– Neat?! – Kira dropped her bag. – Did anyone ask me? Or am I now just a decoration for your family performance?
“Darling, where should I go? To the street?” the mother-in-law sighed dramatically, pressing her hand to her heart, as if she had been driven out of her last refuge.
“That’s my mother!” Yura intervened, frowning. “You can’t be against your own mother, can you?”
“I’m against you deciding everything without me!” Kira objected. “This is my apartment. I lived here before the wedding. And I’m not going to tolerate the intrusion of a person who considers my style “terrible.”
– Exactly. Before the wedding, – the mother-in-law retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. – Now you are a family. And a son has the right to invite his mother. Especially in difficult times.
Kira clenched her teeth, turned around and went into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard that her mother-in-law flinched.
Kira was silent for the first few days, trying to control herself like a yogi meditating. But by the end of the week it became clear: this woman was not going to be a temporary guest. She showed up with suitcases, rules, and detailed instructions entitled “How to remake someone else’s life to suit your standards.”
The furniture was rearranged, the cabinets were washed, things were thrown out – everything that did not suit her taste.
– This… this was a vase from my mother! The last gift before she died! – Kira held the bag of shards in her hands, shaking with anger.
“Some kind of trinket,” Tatyana Vasilyevna waved it off. “It was collecting dust. I bought a new one – modern, minimalist. Enjoy it.”
By the end of the second week, Kira felt like a prisoner in her own home. She was being checked, interrogated, controlled.
“Are you late again?” her mother-in-law greeted her at the door, pushing her glasses up on her nose like an investigator. “Yura is hungry. Men need to eat on time, not wait while you make a career.”
“I warned you. We have a pressing project,” Kira said, walking past without even taking off her jacket.
– In our time, wives were home by six in the evening. Soup, compote… – snorted the mother-in-law. – But now everyone is a “businesswoman”, you see.
A month later, Kira woke up with the realization that she was no longer the mistress. She had become a guest in her own apartment.
In the evening she found Yuri in the kitchen.
“We need to talk,” she said quietly but firmly.
– Again? – Yura calmly ate his sandwich, as if he didn’t care – even if it was a circus in the apartment.
– About your mother. She’s been here for a month. When will she leave?
– Not now. She’s going through a difficult period…
– And I have a holiday, then. I’m having fun. Every day with my mother-in-law… oh, excuse me, with my mother-in-law in slippers in the kitchen!
– She’s just trying to help, Kira. And you act like you’re being ambushed.
— Help?! She threw out my things! My favorite sweater! She called it “old stuff”! I wore it back in university!
– Mom knows what she’s doing. Maybe we should listen?
– Do you even understand what you’re saying? You have two women in the house, and one of them is not me.
At that moment, Tatyana Vasilyevna entered the kitchen, holding a rag in her hands. Her face expressed obvious displeasure.
– Another scandal? Kira, it’s like you’re deliberately organizing a hysterical competition.
– Me? You’re the one who turned everything upside down here!
– In “your apartment”, yes. But you’re married, or have you already forgotten?
– No, I haven’t forgotten. And if you’re so good with paperwork, remember: the apartment was bought before the marriage. With my mother’s money. Everything is documented.
– So what now? Throw me out? Like I’m homeless?
Kira looked at her husband silently. He was eating calmly, as if nothing had happened.
– No, Tatyana Vasilyevna. I’m just leaving. From this apartment. From this circus. With my things.
She went out, slamming the door. She came back, took the keys. And left again, this time silently.
The days dragged on slowly, like cold oatmeal. Kira tried to avoid her mother-in-law, stayed late at work, looked for any excuse to be away from home.
“Yura, look at your wife,” Tatyana Vasilyevna kept repeating. “Cold as a fish on the counter.”
Yuri pretended that everything was fine. He sat with his tablet, munched on pasta, nodded to his mother, as if he were watching another season of the TV series “Mother-in-law against everyone.” He waited for everything to settle down on its own. But the situation only got worse.
One morning, Kira noticed that her favorite blue dress was no longer in the closet. She rummaged through everything, checked every corner – and found it in the trash. Neatly folded, like on a store shelf.
“Tatyana Vasilyevna, are you serious?” Kira’s voice trembled, but she held on, taking the dress out of the bag.
“Look at yourself from the outside,” the mother-in-law answered calmly. “You look inappropriate in these rags. You are a married woman. You should dress accordingly.”
“I’ll decide what to wear myself,” Kira was no longer shaking. She was seething.
– Yura, tell her something! – Tatyana Vasilyevna turned to her son.
Yuri, without looking up from his phone, muttered:
– Mom, stop it. Let him wear whatever he wants.
– Look! – Tatyana Vasilyevna threw up her hands. – He doesn’t care at all what his wife looks like!
Kira slammed the closet so hard that even the cat hid in fear. But a couple of days later she discovered that her favorite shoes were missing. Then her cosmetic bag. Vanished without a trace.
The apotheosis came when she checked her bank account before payday – minus. Not just empty, but as if someone had decided to have a sale.
“Yura, did you withdraw money from our account?” she asked in the evening, trying to remain calm.
– Yes, I did, – he didn’t even look up from his phone. – Pashka needed them. My brother.
– Which Pashka?
– The younger one. He has problems with business.
— You withdrew the money and didn’t even ask?
“Mom said we need to help. It’s family. Is it a pity?” he shrugged.
– A pity? – Kira squeezed the phone, preparing to throw it. – It’s my money! I earned it!
– Ours, – Tatyana Vasilyevna intervened, as the main judge. – In the family, everything is shared. And Pasha will return it. Definitely.
“When?” Kira turned to her, her voice ringing like glass.
“When things get better,” the mother-in-law waved her hand. “By the way, I was thinking. You need a bigger apartment. You could sell this one…”
– What? – Kira shuddered as if from an icy shower.
— I’ve already found an option. Three-room apartment, great area, shops nearby. Of course, I’ll have to pay extra… But Yura will take out a loan, and everything will work out.
“Mom, maybe not now?” Yuri tried to interject, but his voice sounded as weak as soggy oatmeal.
– And when, Yura? It’s time for you to start thinking about children, and you’re huddled here. And I wouldn’t mind a separate room.
Kira stood up silently and left, leaving the kitchen behind with its burnt toast and pointless arguments.
In the bedroom, she took a folder of documents out of the safe: a deed of gift from her mother, a purchase and sale agreement, an extract from the registry. Everything was neatly arranged in folders. She sorted through the papers like a priest with a prayer book, only instead of peace, she felt a growing rage.
Unexpectedly, without knocking, Tatyana Vasilievna entered.
“I’ve got it all organized!” she announced happily. “We’re going to look at the apartment tomorrow. It’s a great option. I think…”
“No,” Kira answered calmly, without even raising her head, continuing to fold the documents.
“What do you mean ‘no’?” the mother-in-law was taken aback, frozen in her tracks.
– Yura! – Kira called loudly. – Come in, please. We need to talk.
Yuri showed up reluctantly, like a schoolboy to the principal, with a phone in his hands and a detached look.
“Sit down,” Kira pointed to the bed. “We’re going to have a serious conversation.”
“What kind of performance is this?!” snorted the mother-in-law, but she sat down anyway, adjusting her skirt, as if she was preparing for an important meeting, and not to hear that she was being thrown out of the apartment.
Kira threw the folder of documents on the table so hard that it jumped and almost fell. Then she slowly turned to her relatives, who had settled on her sofa as if it was their territory.
“I’ve been patient for a long time,” Kira’s voice trembled not from fear, but from fatigue. “First you barged in without warning. Then the petty quibbles began: ‘that’s not right, move that, throw that away’. Then, without asking, you went through my things – clothes, books, cosmetics. And the cherry on the cake – my money. You just took it. Without a word. Convenient, right?”
– It’s starting again… – the mother-in-law rolled her eyes, settling herself more comfortably. – Yura, tell her something. She’s completely lost her mind.
– No, you listen to this, – Kira raised her chin, her voice became sharp as sandpaper. – Here are the documents for the apartment. Mine. Bought before marriage. Mom helped. And here is the deed of gift. My money. Not jointly owned. Mine.
– So what? – the mother-in-law said through gritted teeth, pursing her lips. – Now you’re a family. Everything is shared. And the apartment too.
– You’re wrong, – Kira pulled out another sheet. – Yura and I have a marriage contract. My idea. Unexpected, right?
Yuri jerked as if he had been struck with a whip. He turned pale and turned away.
“What does this mean?” hissed the mother-in-law. “A marriage contract? Behind our backs?”
– Not for yours, – Kira looked closely at her husband. – He signed it himself. In his right mind. With a pen in his hand. Remember, Yura? I said then: “It will be calmer this way.”
“I thought it was just a piece of paper…” he muttered, staring at the wall.
– And now this piece of paper is my way out.
Kira went to the closet and took out two suitcases: a new one with a tag, and an old one, shabby, like the very idea of living with relatives.
– You have an hour to get ready. No more.
– What? – the mother-in-law screamed, jumping up. – You’re throwing us out?! Your family?
– Exactly, – Kira looked her in the eyes. – Stop making a circus here. This is my life, my things, my money. I will not allow you to boss me around in my home anymore. I am an adult and quite reasonable.
– Yura! – the mother-in-law screamed. – Tell her that we are staying!
“Kira, maybe we can discuss…” Yura got up from the bed as if he was going to be shot.
– Let’s discuss it? – Kira grinned. – We discussed it for three months. While your mother was running the show here like a military leader. Enough talk. Either you leave now, or I’m calling the police. This is my apartment. The documents are on the table. If you want, call a lawyer, he will confirm.
– You’ll regret this! Ungrateful! We came with good intentions, and you… – Tatyana Vasilyevna grabbed the suitcase as if it were a combat grenade.
— With kindness, of course… — Kira grinned. — You came as guests, but behaved like occupiers. You gave orders, changed everything to suit yourselves, took my money and threw out my things. You even tried to sell my apartment. This is your “kindness”, right? I’m not someone’s dog on a leash. This is my home. My life.
Yura stood between them, looking confusedly from one woman to the other, like a child in a candy store who can’t afford a single piece of candy.
“And you get out too!” hissed the mother-in-law. “Don’t you dare stay with this… upstart!”
“Yura will make his own decision,” Kira said calmly but tiredly. “But if he decides to stay, then only by my rules. Your mother is no longer in charge here. The orders are cancelled. From everyone. Otherwise… you know what will happen.”
Tatyana Vasilyevna silently flew out of the room, noisily dragging her suitcase behind her, as if declaring with her whole appearance: the war is not over yet.
Yuri lingered. He stood there for a few seconds, then stepped toward the door. “Kira… maybe we should talk after all…”
– There’s nothing more to talk about. Choose: either me or Mom.
– But how… it’s mom…
– That’s exactly it. Choose for yourself. This is not an ultimatum, I just don’t want to be the third wheel in our marriage.
He stood there silently, then sighed and followed his mother out. The door slammed so loudly that the echo resounded throughout the apartment, as if even the walls didn’t know what was coming next.
Kira slowly sank down onto the bed. Her hands were shaking, her legs were like cotton wool, but everything inside seemed to calm down. Warmth spread through her body, like after the first cup of hot tea on a cold day. It was scary, but in a different way – more alive.
A week later, Yuri called.
– Maybe we should meet after all? Mom is home, she has already cooled down…
“No, Yura,” Kira answered almost in a whisper. “I’ve cooled down too. And I realized that I don’t need a man who can’t protect me even from his own mother.”
– But I love you!
— Love isn’t emojis in text messages. It’s when you stand up for me, not her. Take your stuff this weekend. I filed for divorce.
She turned off the call and went to the window. Someone was laughing outside, someone was smoking, but in her soul there was silence. No anxiety, no screams, no eternal tension.
Three months. In these three months, she learned the most important thing – to value herself. Even if she has to start all over again.
The phone was ringing off the hook. Relatives became more active, like ants in a jam jar. She mercilessly added numbers to the blacklist. She even deleted an old friend, who began to lecture on the importance of keeping the family together.
The first night was sleepless. Kira lay and listened to the sounds of the apartment – creaks, rustles, silence. For the first time without criticism, instructions and eternal discontent. And in the morning she calmly got up and made coffee. By herself. Without “you’re doing it wrong.” Without “what are you wearing.” Without “you always think only about yourself.”
A month later, I replaced all the locks. And I felt like a new person. The divorce was quick — thanks to the prenuptial agreement. Yuri tried to protest, but quickly gave in. Apparently, he had lived his entire life under someone else’s guidance.
She never heard from her mother-in-law again. They say she returned to her husband. It seems her son was not as reliable an ally as she thought.
And Kira… Kira finally took a deep breath. And began to truly live.
In her house, the rules were now hers alone. And no one else would rewrite them.
