“You’re selfish! Three children are out on the street, and you’re sitting in a three-room apartment!” my mother-in-law shouted while I packed his things
The apartment smelled of freshly brewed coffee and old furniture. Marina remembered that smell from the first days of her life together with Andrey. Back then, it had seemed cozy to her, almost magical — like a promise that everything would be all right. Now it affected her like a red rag to a bull. Especially when the doorbell rang in the hallway.
“Marina, open up, it’s me!” Valentina Petrovna’s voice sounded, as always, as if she were already standing in the corridor, not on the stairwell.
Marina slowly put her book aside. She knew that if she did not open the door, her mother-in-law would ring, knock, and then call Andrey to complain about “disrespect.” And Andrey, in turn, would come home looking as if Marina were the one to blame for his mother not being able to simply walk into their home whenever she wanted.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered, shuffling across the laminate floor in her slippers. She opened the door without even trying to hide her irritation.
Valentina Petrovna stood on the threshold in her signature shapeless raincoat, holding a bag stuffed to bursting. On her face was the expression of a holy woman who had come to save sinners.
“Marinochka, are you sitting in the dark again? Saving electricity?” she slipped inside without waiting for an invitation. “Lyubka’s electricity got cut off again. Can you imagine? Three children, a full fridge, and then just — bam! — no power. She didn’t pay again.”
“That’s too bad,” Marina said dryly, returning to the kitchen. “Do you want coffee?”
“I won’t refuse,” Valentina Petrovna dropped her bag onto the sofa, making it creak pitifully. “You could at least turn on the kettle. It’s like a morgue here.”
Marina silently pressed the button. She knew what was about to begin. And she was not wrong.
“You know, Lyubka is crying again. She says the children have caught colds, and she doesn’t even have money for medicine. And you’re sitting here alone in a three-room apartment like some queen,” her mother-in-law sat down at the table and pulled a packet of cookies from her bag. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn. A one-room apartment would be enough for you! You’re young, you don’t need so much space.”
“Valentina Petrovna, we’ve already discussed this,” Marina placed the cup in front of her so sharply that the coffee almost spilled. “The apartment is mine. I bought it before the wedding. And I’m not moving anywhere.”
“Oh, yours, yours,” her mother-in-law waved her hand. “And Andrey? Is he nothing? He lives here too! And he is my son!”
“And what does that change?” Marina sat across from her, folding her arms over her chest. “If Lyuba needs help, let Andrey give her money. Or you.”
“Don’t ask Lyubka for money,” Valentina Petrovna snorted. “She’s proud. But the apartment… You understand, don’t you? They’re cramped! Three children! In one room!”
“And what am I supposed to do? Live in a closet?” Marina smirked. “Or are you suggesting Andrey move into the bathroom with the children?”
“Don’t make me laugh,” her mother-in-law bit into a cookie, scattering crumbs across the table. “You’re selfish. You always have been. Andrey courted you as if you were behind a stone wall, and what did you give him? Work, career, your own interests… What about family? What about children?”
“What children?” Marina felt everything tighten inside her. “We don’t have children. And we won’t.”
“Exactly!” Valentina Petrovna pointed a finger at her. “Because you never wanted any! All you care about is feeling sorry for yourself!”
“And all you care about is saving everyone,” Marina shot back. “Especially at someone else’s expense.”
Silence hung in the kitchen. The ticking of the clock suddenly seemed louder than usual. Marina looked at her mother-in-law and thought about how easily this woman could turn any words into an accusation.
“You know Andrey agrees with me,” Valentina Petrovna suddenly said, taking a sip of coffee.
Marina froze.
“What?”
“He says you’re wrong. That family is more important than your principles.”
Marina laughed. Bitterly, angrily.
“Of course. Andrey always agrees with you. Especially when it comes to blaming me.”
“He is a man! He thinks about the future!” her mother-in-law raised her voice. “And you? What do you do? You sit here like a mouse in a hole and don’t let anyone live!”
“Valentina Petrovna,” Marina stood up and leaned her hands on the table. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore. The apartment is mine. Period.”
“Then I’ll go,” the woman also stood up and grabbed her bag. “But remember this: sooner or later Andrey will choose between you and his family. And I know what he will choose.”
The door slammed. Marina was left alone. She looked at the half-finished cup of coffee and thought about how long it had been since she had felt this lonely. Even when she had actually been alone.
Andrey came home an hour later. He entered quietly, like a thief, and immediately headed to the bathroom.
“Did you fight with Mom again?” he asked without looking at her.
“She was here,” Marina answered shortly.
“Why do you keep making her angry?” he finally turned toward her, and she saw not understanding in his eyes, but reproach. “She’s just worried about Lyuba.”
“And who is worried about me?” Marina asked quietly.
Andrey said nothing.
And in that moment she understood: she would not like the answer to that question.
The rain tapped against the window like an annoying debt collector. Marina sat on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, staring at her phone screen. Andrey’s message had been sitting unread for half an hour:
“Marin, let’s talk. Mom is right — Lyuba really has nowhere to live. Maybe we could at least temporarily move into a one-room apartment? Just until the children grow up.”
She did not answer. Instead, she opened the browser and started looking up rental prices for one-room apartments in their area. Just to understand how much this “temporary” break would cost her. The numbers on the screen swam before her eyes, merging into one blurred spot.
The door opened. Andrey came in, shaking drops from his umbrella, and immediately headed to the kitchen.
“Are you at least going to turn on the kettle?” he threw over his shoulder as he hung his jacket on the hook. “I’ve been on my feet all day. I’m tired.”
Marina did not move.
“Are you serious?” she finally asked, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“Serious about what?” Andrey poured himself some water and drank it in one gulp.
“Are you really ready to kick me out of my own apartment for the sake of your mother and Lyuba?”
Andrey sighed, as if she had asked a stupid question.
“No one is kicking you out. It’s just… temporary. Until Lyuba gets back on her feet.”
“Temporary,” Marina repeated. “Like in a joke: ‘temporarily, until we get married.’ ‘Temporarily, until we have children.’ ‘Temporarily, until we buy a car.’ And temporary stretches into ten years.”
“You’re exaggerating again,” he sat across from her and reached for a packet of chips. “Lyuba is in a difficult situation. She has three children, her husband left, she has no job. And we have an extra room.”
“Extra?” Marina raised her eyebrows. “You mean the room where your exercise machine stands, the one you last used in the previous century? Or the one where you keep your old fishing magazines?”
“Don’t nitpick my words,” Andrey crunched on the chips. “You’re not stupid. You understand what this is about.”
“It’s about your mother deciding how I should live,” she finally put the phone aside. “And instead of stopping her, you nod and say, ‘Yes, Mommy, whatever you say’?”
“I don’t say ‘whatever you say,’” he frowned. “I’m thinking about family.”
“What family?” Marina jumped to her feet. “Ours? Or the one you’re trying to save at my expense?”
“You always twist everything as if I’m some traitor,” Andrey threw the packet onto the table. “I’m just trying to help my sister!”
“At my expense,” Marina said coldly. “Interesting. If I had a sister who was left without a place to live, would you be just as eager to give her our apartment?”
“You don’t have a sister.”
“Exactly. But I do have a mother-in-law who thinks I’m obligated to tolerate her manipulation.”
Andrey stood up sharply.
“That’s enough! You’re acting like a spoiled child!”
“And you’re acting like a henpecked man,” Marina shot back. “Only not under your wife’s thumb — under your mother’s.”
He stepped toward her, his face reddening.
“You’re crossing the line.”
“What line?” she laughed. “I’m in my own apartment. Or have you already forgotten who owns this place?”
Andrey grabbed her by the arm.
“Stop it!”
Marina jerked, trying to free herself, but he squeezed harder.
“Let go,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You’re pushing me,” he did not let go. “It’s always you, you, you! You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”
“And you don’t care about me,” she pulled free and stepped back. “You don’t even try to understand. You just follow orders.”
“I don’t follow orders!” he shouted. “I’m trying to keep peace in the family!”
“What peace?” Marina shook her head. “You’re destroying our marriage. Piece by piece. First for your mother, then for Lyuba, then for someone else. And where am I in all this? Am I supposed to silently agree and go live in a shoebox?”
Andrey suddenly deflated, as if the air had been let out of him.
“Marin… I don’t want to fight with you.”
“And I don’t want to live in a one-room apartment,” she crossed the room and stood by the window. The rain was still falling, heavy and cold. “And I don’t want other people deciding what happens to my living space.”
“Then what do you suggest?” he clenched his fists. “That Lyuba and her children live on the street?”
“I suggest you finally grow up,” she turned around. “And stop letting yourself be manipulated. Are you a man or Mommy’s little boy?”
He was silent. His face turned gray, like the wall outside the window.
“You know what?” he finally said. “I’m sick of this. If it’s so terrible for you to be with me, maybe we really should separate. Let Lyuba live here, and you can find yourself another idiot who will put up with your hysterics.”
Marina looked at him for a long time, steadily. Then she nodded.
“Fine.”
“What do you mean, fine?” he did not understand.
“I agree,” she turned back to the window. “I’ll move out tomorrow. And I’ll file for divorce.”
Andrey froze.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Try me,” she said without turning around.
He stood silently for a moment, then suddenly grabbed his jacket and left, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.
Marina was left alone. The apartment became quiet. Only the rain kept tapping and tapping against the glass, as if reminding her: you did the right thing. Or maybe not.
She sat down on the sofa and wrapped her arms around herself. One thought kept spinning in her head: what if he did not come back? And the scariest thing was not that. The scariest thing was that she did not know whether she wanted him to come back.
The morning began with Marina waking up to the sound of the door opening. She was lying on the sofa, covered with the same blanket she had fallen asleep under, and the first thing she saw was Valentina Petrovna standing in the hallway with a huge bag in her hands. Beside her stood Andrey, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He was wearing the same jacket he had left in yesterday. Clearly, he had spent the night at his mother’s.
“Marina, get up,” her mother-in-law said, as if this were her apartment and not Marina’s. “We came for the things.”
Marina slowly sat up and stretched. Her head was buzzing as if after a heavy hangover.
“What things?” she asked, though she already guessed.
“Andrey has nowhere else to live here anymore,” Valentina Petrovna dropped the bag onto the floor. “Lyuba and the children are already moving in. So take your rags and clear out the room.”
Marina looked at Andrey. He avoided her gaze, staring at the shoes by the door.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
Andrey said nothing.
“He is serious,” his mother answered for him, walking into the kitchen. “I brought boxes. Come on, start packing.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Marina said calmly.
Valentina Petrovna stopped and turned around.
“What?”
“I said I’m not going anywhere.” Marina stood up and straightened her shoulders. “This is my apartment. And if someone has to move out, it’s you.”
“Have you completely lost your mind?” her mother-in-law snorted. “Andrey, say something to her!”
Andrey still said nothing. He looked as if he wanted to sink through the floor.
“You’re not even trying to defend me?” Marina looked at him, and everything inside her tightened from pain and anger. “Are you ready to lose your wife for your mother’s sake?”
“Marina, don’t make this complicated,” he finally forced out.
“Don’t make this complicated?” she laughed. “You came here with your mommy to throw me out of my own home, and you’re telling me not to complicate things?”
“You’re exaggerating everything!” Valentina Petrovna flared up. “We’re simply asking you to make room temporarily! Lyuba has nowhere to live!”
“And what about me?” Marina stepped toward her. “Where am I supposed to live? On the street? In a basement? Or maybe you’ve already arranged with Lyuba that I’ll move into her one-room apartment while you set up a communal apartment here?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” her mother-in-law waved her hand. “You’ve always been hysterical.”
“Hysterical?” Marina felt something snap inside her. “I’m hysterical because I don’t want to give away my apartment? And who are you? A saint? The one who came with her son to throw me out of my home?”
“You yourself said you would move out!” Andrey suddenly shouted.
“I said I would file for divorce,” Marina replied coldly. “And I will. But the apartment will remain mine. And if you want to live with your mother and sister, go ahead. But you have no place here.”
Andrey turned pale.
“You can’t do this.”
“Why not?” she crossed the room and stood in front of him. “You said it yourself: if it’s so bad for me with you, why don’t we separate? So I agree. Leave.”
“This is my home too!” he clenched his fists.
“No,” Marina shook her head. “This is my home. And if you don’t leave voluntarily, I’ll call the police.”
Valentina Petrovna gasped as if she had been struck.
“You’re threatening your own husband?”
“I’m protecting my property,” Marina took out her phone. “I have all the documents. And a lawyer. So if you don’t leave in five minutes, I’ll call the district police officer.”
“You’re bluffing,” Andrey hissed.
“Try me,” she dialed the number.
He looked at her — and in his eyes she saw not anger, but fear. Fear of losing her. But it was too late.
“Fine,” he grabbed his jacket. “Is this what you wanted? You got what you wanted.”
“I got justice,” Marina said.
Andrey left without looking back. Valentina Petrovna stood there for another second, threw one last venomous look at her, and followed her son.
The door closed.
Marina was left alone.
The apartment became quiet. She sat down on the sofa, and the phone slipped from her hands. Tears began to flow on their own — not from weakness, but from relief. She was free. But that freedom was bitter, like wormwood.
An hour later, the phone rang. Lyuba.
“Marina,” Andrey’s sister’s voice trembled. “Please forgive me. I didn’t know… Mom said you had agreed.”
“I did not agree,” Marina answered. “And I never will.”
“I understand,” Lyuba sighed. “I’ll find another way. I’m sorry.”
Marina hung up. One thought kept spinning in her head: it was over. But along with the pain came a strange, unfamiliar feeling — she was once again the master of her own life.
And it was worth it.
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