— Don’t you understand, Seryozha?— Lena’s voice rang with tension, approaching its highest pitch. — All you need to do is explain to your mother that she’d be better off among people her own age! Meanwhile, we’d get an apartment in a prestigious neighborhood and finally forget this rented hole!
— Lena, do you even hear yourself?— Seryozha exhaled heavily, turning away. — That’s my mother. How can you suggest something like that?
— I’m not suggesting, I’m insisting! She’s always finding reasons to nitpick: ‘Lenochka, why do you cook with so much fat,’ ‘Lenochka, you go to boutiques too often.’ She’s always criticizing me, as if I’m the sloppy one here. But what about her?
Seryozha remained silent, feeling irritation swell within him. It pained him to hear such attacks on his mother, and the idea of sending her to a retirement home seemed utterly sacrilegious. He intertwined his fingers, trying to steady his trembling.
— So, you decide!— Lena cast a glance at the kitchen cabinets, as if seeking support for her argument. — Either we move together with your mother so we can start a normal life, or… honestly, I’m fed up with all of this.
— I don’t even know what to say,— he looked up at his wife, bewildered. — Do you really think this is normal?
Several long seconds of silence hung in the air. Lena frowned, her lips trembling slightly, then exhaled sharply:
— Fine, let’s calm down and talk it out peacefully.
Just then, the alarm tone on the phone started to play, reminding them of the upcoming lunch at Seryozha’s mother’s place. Lena winced:
— Oh, I completely forgot we have to be there today.
— Are we going?— Seryozha asked gloomily.
— We are. There’s no way out. But remember what we talked about. I’m beyond tired of these family visits.
This conversation was a real shock to Seryozha, although, if he were honest, there had been warning signs for quite some time. His memory took him back to the day he first brought Lena to his modest Moscow apartment, where he lived with his mother. Lena had just moved from a small town, full of hope for conquering the capital: glistening storefronts, a bustling metro, and the chance to land a prestigious job. Seryozha was certain he’d found “the one”—charming, affectionate, with a pure heart.
His mother, Lyudmila Pavlovna, had welcomed the guest in a reserved yet warm manner. She served pies, asked about life in the provinces. Meanwhile, Lena was studying the interior: looking over cabinets, furniture, imagining how she might remodel it. To Seryozha, it seemed like simple, endearing curiosity—just a new place, new impressions.
When wedding preparations were in full swing, Lena increasingly brought up how nice it would be to live on their own and, most importantly, for the apartment to be hers. Seryozha chalked it up to the typical desire of a bride to have her own space rather than sharing a roof with parents. He did the math and decided to rent a more comfortable place. He considered a mortgage, but Lena always shook her head: “A mortgage is shackles; I want to live freely.”
A year after the wedding passed quickly, but with each month Lena’s charm dimmed under her endless reproaches and demands. Seryozha buried himself in work to support the family, and at home, he heard the same refrain:
— You don’t earn enough. How will I afford decent cosmetics? — Why don’t you ask for a raise? Maybe your boss just isn’t noticing you. — Why are you so unambitious? Don’t you see you’re standing still?
Day after day, these phrases sounded like constant background noise, but her recent suggestion about a retirement home for his mother was the final straw.
In the building’s entryway, they were greeted by the smell of a home-cooked meal. Lyudmila Pavlovna had opened the door, having spotted them through the window:
— Oh, my dears have arrived! Come in, don’t just stand there.
— Hello, Lyudmila Pavlovna,— Lena said coldly, tossing her bag onto a chair in the hallway. — I’ll just wash my hands.
— Hi, Mom,— Seryozha nodded, feeling uneasy.
— Hello, son,— his mother patted his shoulder. — How are you two doing?
— Same as usual, Mom,— he mumbled, heading to the living room.
On the table were steamed cutlets, mashed potatoes, and several salads. Everything looked as it always did—homey, cozy. But Seryozha felt a lump in his throat. He sank onto a chair across from Lena, noting her tense expression.
— Well, make yourselves comfortable,— began Lyudmila Pavlovna. — I hope it’s all to your liking.
Lena gave a quick glance over the dishes, not even trying to hide her indifference:
— Sure, thanks.
With an effort of will, Seryozha swallowed his irritation and tried to start a conversation:
— Mom, how are you doing? What have you been up to?
— Oh, there’s not much going on when you’re retired, son,— his mother answered with a hint of sadness. — I have plenty of time. I’d love to help you more, but I don’t see you often.
— We’re just busy,— Lena cut in sharply. — Work, you know.
Lyudmila Pavlovna looked intently at her daughter-in-law:
— Lenochka, how’s the new job? Getting used to it?
— More or less,— Lena shrugged. — The salary isn’t great, but at least there are discounts on clothes.
The atmosphere at the table grew heavier. Clearly, Lena was turning over her plan in her mind, figuring out how to persuade his mother to agree to “move to a care facility.” Seryozha caught his mother’s gaze and tried to smile, hiding his true thoughts.
— Lyudmila Pavlovna,— Lena suddenly began, — don’t you ever feel lonely? It must be hard running a household all by yourself…
Seryozha nearly choked on his compote, while his mother raised her eyebrows in surprise:
— What do you mean, lonely? I’m managing just fine. And Seryozha is always close by if I need anything.
Lena continued softly:
— I’m only saying there are so many opportunities for retirees now—social programs, modern retirement communities…
— Lena, cut it out,— Seryozha interrupted harshly, realizing where the conversation was headed. — Let’s hurry; we still have to stop by the market.
— What’s the rush?— Lena pretended not to hear her husband and kept talking to Lyudmila Pavlovna. — You have no idea how comfortable some of these facilities can be. Full service, around-the-clock care…
Lyudmila Pavlovna felt a twinge of anxiety but tried to keep her composure.
— Why are you bringing this up?
— I’m just suggesting: maybe you’d like a change of scenery…
Seryozha realized this was the final straw. He jumped up from his chair:
— Lena, we need to talk!
He firmly led his wife into the hallway, leaving his mother bewildered at the table.
— Have you completely lost your mind?— he hissed, clenching his fists. — Why bring up a retirement home in front of her?
— Oh, come on, I didn’t say anything specific,— Lena dismissed him with a wave. — Actually, it’s a great idea: she’ll be safe there, and the apartment will be ours.
— Your lack of tact is astounding.
— What, Seryozha, are we going to rent forever? Do you think we have any other options? Or are you prepared to work nonstop to get a mortgage?
Seryozha just shook his head and returned to the table:
— Mom, sorry, but we have urgent business. We need to go.
The next day after that tense lunch, Lena pressed on with her idea:
— I’ve thought it all through, Seryozha. You have that friend of your mom’s, Aunt Galya? We could use her to pressure Lyudmila Pavlovna to move…
— Stop it, Lena.
— Listen to me! Everyone in the neighborhood has already placed their elderly relatives in specialized facilities—it’s convenient for all.
Seryozha was stunned:
— “Convenient?” Do you realize how that sounds?
— Enough lecturing me! We have to look out for ourselves. Otherwise, we’ll keep counting every penny.
She spread her arms as though her argument was self-evident:
— We’re paying for this rental, but we could’ve had her place set up for our needs by now. Your mom would get somewhere with proper medical supervision.
Seryozha looked at his wife, remembering a time when their relationship seemed bright and full of promise… Now, it was all falling apart.
— Let’s be honest: you want to kick my mom out so we can take over her apartment?
— Of course! We’re a family, aren’t we? I’m thinking about our well-being.
— Just don’t forget I’m part of this family too, and I have a different idea of well-being,— he struggled to keep his emotions in check. — It seems we’re not on the same path anymore.
— What do you mean “not on the same path”?
— Never mind,— he said hoarsely.
Less than two days later, on Saturday morning, Lena found Seryozha packing his things in the bedroom. He was methodically folding his belongings, ignoring her stare.
— Oh, you finally came to your senses, huh?— Lena said happily, grabbing for his shirts. — So we’re moving to your mother’s place? Right, it’s time we took over her apartment, and she could have her ‘rest.’ I thought you’d never come around!
Seryozha froze, turned to her, and shook his head:
— You’re mistaken. I’m leaving alone. I’ll stay with my mother until we finalize our divorce.
The smile disappeared from Lena’s face:
— Divorce? Are you kidding?
He gently took a T-shirt from her hands and placed it into his suitcase:
— The decision is made. I won’t be part of your plan. I’ll explain everything to Mom. I’ve already paid for this apartment for three more months, so you can stay here and “enjoy” yourself. Maybe you’ll find a partner better suited to your standards.
— Seryozha… wait,— Lena’s voice trembled. — Maybe we shouldn’t rush? Why divorce immediately?
— Does my decision really matter to you? Our marriage has been meaningless for a while.
— But we could fix things…
— Fix? I only now understand who you really are. Months of pressure, trying to destroy my relationship with my mother. Now you’re upset because you’ll be left alone, without money or support. What else is there to say?
He clicked the suitcase shut and stood up straight:
— I’m not sure what comes next. For now, I’ll stay with my mom. She’s worried. After that, we’ll see. As for you… do whatever you think is best.
Lena sank onto the edge of the bed, at a loss:
— This can’t be happening…
— If you think I have no feelings, you’re wrong. But I can’t endure this anymore.
He walked into the corridor, set his suitcase by the door, and grabbed his jacket. Lena stood frozen in the doorway, apparently not believing what was happening.
— It’s a shame it turned out this way,— Seryozha said before leaving.
— Wait, Seryozha…— her voice was unsteady. — We could still talk. Why jump straight to divorce?
— Because you planned more than just “talking,” Lena. You wanted to get rid of my mother. That’s something I can’t forgive.
He walked out, gently closing the door behind him.
Seryozha moved back in with Lyudmila Pavlovna, surprising and somewhat upsetting her. Briefly, he explained that there were serious disagreements between him and Lena, and he intended to file for divorce. Lena stayed in the rented apartment, paid for several months ahead. It was a hard blow for her: all her calculations had fallen apart.
Time passed, and each of them chose their own path. Seryozha finalized the divorce, continued to support his mother, and found peace of mind. Lena… she had to search for new ways to get by in the big city without the husband who once funded her whims. Perhaps she would find another chance, another story, another “win.” But Seryozha had made his final choice—one that preserved his genuine values, where respect and care outweighed any material benefit.