“Servants don’t sit at the table!” Tamara Ilyinichna announced loudly.
The room instantly felt airless. The smell of garlic salad, smoked sausage, and someone’s cheap perfume blended into one heavy, suffocating cloud. I had spent two days glued to the stove. My husband, Vadim, was celebrating his fortieth birthday. And all that time, he had been carefully preserving his strength on the sofa while I scrubbed the apartment and carried bags home from the supermarket.
Now his entire herd of relatives was sitting around the old extendable table. And when I took off my wet apron and tried to sit down on an empty chair, I was shown my place in front of everyone.
I quietly walked over to the table, moved someone’s dirty napkin aside, and sat down. Then I folded my hands in front of me.
Uncle Misha froze with a piece of pork halfway to his mouth. A fork clinked.
“Vadik!” my mother-in-law shrieked. “Do you hear what this freeloader is allowing herself to do? Put your woman in her place! She’s acting like we’re stealing food from her!”
Vadim shrank into his shoulders. Spineless. He stared at his empty plate, then hissed through his teeth:
“Rita, why are you making a scene? You’re embarrassing me in front of Aunt Valya. Go to the kitchen. The hot dishes still need to be served.”
I took my phone out of my jeans pocket and unlocked the screen.
“All right, then. There won’t be any hot dishes.”
Tamara Ilyinichna snorted.
“Look at her, acting like the lady of the house! Throwing her weight around in someone else’s home! We helped with the renovation, and Vadik is registered here!”
“Tamara Ilyinichna, it’s 2026,” I said calmly, looking straight at her. “Open the government services app or order a property registry extract. This apartment was bought by me before the wedding. The fact that you all chipped in for your precious son’s hallway linoleum does not give you ownership rights. And all of this,” I gestured toward the table, “was paid for with my salary.”
My mother-in-law jumped up.
“How dare you! Vadik, we’re leaving! Let her choke on her own sausage!”
But no one actually moved. The relatives hesitated, clearly not eager to walk away from free alcohol. Vadim began turning red.
“Mom, sit down. Rita, apologize to my mother right now. You’re ruining my birthday.”
“Birthday?” I opened my banking app. “Vadim, you do remember we booked that cottage with a sauna for your friends tomorrow, don’t you? Forty thousand paid in advance. From my card.”
I pressed “Cancel booking.” A green checkmark flashed on the screen.
“There. Canceled. The money will be back in my account within twenty-four hours. And now for trick number two.”
I stood up, went to the kitchen, and came back with a thick black trash bag. I walked up to the table, grabbed the edge of the tablecloth, and swept the food straight into the bag, along with a plate piled with expensive sliced meats. The salad bowl went next. Porcelain clattered.
The relatives practically flew out of their chairs.
“Are you insane?!” my husband shouted, trying to grab my hand.
“I quit. The servant no longer works here,” I snapped, pulling my arm free. “The celebration is over. Everyone out.”
This was no longer a verbal argument. The party had been physically destroyed. No one dared argue with a woman who was calmly throwing her own food into the trash. Aunt Valya was the first to grab her purse and drag her heavy husband toward the hallway. The others followed. The festive mood vanished along with the crushed pieces of tomato on the parquet floor.
Tamara Ilyinichna yanked on her coat with such fury that it looked as if she might tear off the buttons.
“You’ll never see us here again! You psychopath!” she spat from the stairwell.
The door slammed shut. The apartment fell silent.
Vadim stood in the middle of the wrecked dining room.
“Do you even understand what you’ve done? You humiliated me in front of my whole family! How am I supposed to look them in the eye now?”
I picked up my phone again and opened the government services app.
“I’m filing for divorce right now, Vadik. We don’t have children, so it won’t take long. You have exactly one month to find yourself a rental dump. Tonight, you’re sleeping on the sofa.”
“Like hell I am!” he snarled. “I’m not going anywhere!”
“Then tomorrow, while you’re at work, I’ll call a locksmith and change the locks. And your things will go to the dump right after this salad.”
I dropped the trash bag at his feet. Then I went into the kitchen, poured myself some mineral water, and took a long sip.
It tasted wonderful.
And suddenly, breathing felt so easy.
Never waste your breath trying to prove your point to arrogant people with endless explanations. They only understand harsh actions and a hit to the wallet. I kicked that parasite out and never regretted it once.