“Marina, did you lock the door again? Mom says you didn’t even have tea with her this morning.”
Marina tore herself away from her screen and stared silently at her husband for a few seconds. Alexey was already standing in the doorway of her office, wearing his jacket and holding his keys, clearly rushing to work. Behind him, the clinking of cups echoed from the kitchen.
“Lyosha, I have a call in twenty minutes,” she said. “I explained this to you yesterday. And the day before that, too.”
“I get that. It’s just, after her operation, she’s bored being alone.”
“She’s sixty-four, not ninety-four. She can sit without my company for two hours.”
“Why do you have to react like that right away?”
“What else should I do? I work from ten to six. If the door’s closed, it means don’t come in. That’s it.”
Alexey frowned in frustration.
“Mom isn’t bothering you on purpose.”
Marina glanced at the clock.
“Then explain it to her again. Because I have three meetings today, and tonight I just want to have dinner without discussing why I didn’t sort out the groceries from the store at half past two.”
“Okay, I’ll tell her.”
He left. A minute later, the front door slammed shut.
Marina closed her office door and went back to her presentation. She had been working from home for four years now. At first, it was a decision forced by her company, but then it turned out that half the clients preferred video meetings anyway, and it was just more convenient for Marina to be at home. She was in charge of projects for a small studio that created designs and advertising materials for retail chains. Presentations, approvals, and mockup demonstrations happened a few times a week. Sometimes the meetings lasted twenty minutes, sometimes two hours. There could be managers, marketers, and accountants from the client side all on the call, and none of them thought Marina was “just sitting at the computer.”
Except for Valentina Sergeyevna.
Alexey’s mother arrived ten days ago after an eye surgery. There was nothing urgent going on anymore. The doctors had sent her home, told her not to overexert herself for a while, and advised she not stay completely alone in the first days. Alexey immediately said he would bring his mother to live with them for two weeks.
Marina didn’t object.
The apartment belonged to her even before the marriage. It was a two-room place, not huge, but comfortable. A few years back, they remodeled the living room a bit: put a sofa and a TV by the window, while Marina turned the adjoining small room into her office. She set up a desk, monitor, webcam, a closed shelving unit, and a regular router on the shelf. Alexey helped run the cable himself and joked that now his wife’s ‘office was just three steps from the kitchen.’
Marina had always thought she was lucky with Valentina Sergeyevna. Her mother-in-law never interfered in their finances, didn’t demand that they visit every weekend, and never checked up on how well Marina fed her son. When Marina and Alexey got married, Valentina Sergeyevna gifted them a nice set of dishes, hugged Marina, and said that grown children should live their own lives. At the time, that sounded almost perfect.
It took some time for Marina to notice one thing: Valentina Sergeyevna was fine with others making their own choices—just as long as those choices didn’t clash with her own views. Alexey could pick his own vacation spot, but only if his mother liked the destination. He could buy a jacket without asking, if she thought it was practical. He could skip a Sunday visit, but only if she considered his reason good enough. Otherwise? Cue the hurt feelings.
“I’m not bossing anyone around,” she would say. “I’m just offering advice.”
Alexey had gotten used to this since childhood. He rarely argued—it was easier to agree, do things his way later, or simply give in. In the beginning, Marina even admired his patience. But soon she realized that a big part of that patience came at the cost of someone else’s comfort.
For example, in their first year of marriage, Valentina Sergeyevna showed up at their place on a Sunday without warning. That day, Marina had planned to finish a big report and had told her husband she’d be busy until evening. His mother brought over a pie, and after an hour, she said:
“What’s she doing in there all this time? Invite her to join us at the table.”
“She’s working, Mom.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Yes.”
“Then she organized her week all wrong.”
Marina overheard this from the study but said nothing at the time. Later, Alexey told her:
“Don’t take it to heart. She’s from a different generation.”
That explanation came up more than once. A different generation—that’s why his mother thought ordering prepared food was a waste of money. That’s why she was puzzled that Marina didn’t iron the bed sheets, and why, in her eyes, working remotely never seemed like “real” work.
This stung even more for Marina, because her current schedule hadn’t happened by accident. For years, she commuted across the city to her office, came home late, and took her laptop with her if a client sent edits in the evening. When the chance to work remotely came, she took it—not to stretch out on the couch more, but to handle more projects and save two hours of travel every day. Her income had grown in the past two years, and a significant part of their apartment renovations had been paid for with her earnings.
Alexey knew all of this perfectly well. He helped pick out her desk, argued with the electrician over sockets, and bought her a new webcam when the old one started freezing. That’s why Marina couldn’t understand why, around his mother, he suddenly talked about her work as if it really was just a hobby.
The first two days with his mother went smoothly. Valentina Sergeyevna relaxed a lot, read on her tablet in large print, and said she didn’t want to trouble anyone. Marina brought her tea, cooked lunch, and even moved her work to the living room a couple of times so the older woman could nap undisturbed.
On the third day, though, something started happening—a small thing at first.
Marina was talking with a regular client when the office door cracked open.
“Marina, do you want some potatoes?” her mother-in-law asked in her usual tone.
At first, Marina didn’t even realize this was happening outside of her own head.
“Valentina Sergeyevna, I’m in a meeting,” she whispered.
“I see you. I’m quick. Do you want me to make potatoes or pasta for you?”
One of Marina’s clients on the screen averted their eyes. Marina muted her microphone.
“Anything is fine. Please, could you close the door?”
Her mother-in-law took offense.
That evening, she told Alexey in the kitchen:
“I only asked her once, and she talks to me like I’m some kind of mail carrier.”
“Marina, you could’ve been a little softer,” Alexey said then.
“I was in a meeting.”
“But Mom didn’t know that.”
“I told her this morning that I had a meeting starting at eleven.”
“Then she must’ve forgotten.”
Marina decided not to argue.
A day later, Valentina Sergeyevna turned on the vacuum cleaner right as Marina was telling a client about a new design option. The vacuum wasn’t behind a wall—it was literally in the corridor next to her office. Marina came out and asked her to turn it off.
“When am I supposed to clean then?” her mother-in-law asked, surprised.
“After six. Or before ten.”
“I can’t live by your computer’s schedule.”
“Not my computer’s. My work’s schedule.”
“Work means someone leaves the house for it.”
That time, Marina just closed the door.
In the evening, Alexey again asked her to try to be patient.
“She worked her whole life at a clinic,” he said. “It’s just strange for her—seeing someone at home saying they’re working.”
“Lyosha, I don’t need her to understand. I just need her not to come into the office.”
“It’s only two weeks.”
“For two weeks, you can respect someone else’s schedule.”
He kissed her on the temple and said he’d talk to his mom.
Whether he did or not, Marina didn’t know. The next day, her mother-in-law called her to help sort groceries at two in the afternoon. Then at three thirty, she asked which detergent would be best for the washing machine. Then she just came in to report that the neighbor upstairs was moving furniture loudly again.
Each time, Marina repeated the same thing:
“If the door is closed between ten and six, please don’t disturb me.”
Valentina Sergeyevna would reply:
“I’m just popping in for a minute.”
That “minute” became the most-used word of those two weeks.
By the second week, Valentina Sergeyevna was hardly restricting herself at all. One day she opened the office door without knocking and set a plate of cheese pancakes on the desk right in the middle of a call. Another time, she brought in a bag of apples and asked Marina to sort them immediately because one of them was soft.
“Later,” Marina whispered.
“What’s there to wait for? It’ll only take two minutes.”
“I’m in the middle of a conversation.”
“Then turn off your microphone.”
After that, Marina hung a little sign on the door in the evening: “Meeting in progress.” Not for decoration, but to avoid having to explain every time. Valentina Sergeyevna glanced at it and smirked.
“Just like in a clinic.”
“If it helps, let it be like a clinic.”
“I’m not a stranger here, you know.”
“I’m not saying you’re a stranger. I’m just asking you not to come in during work hours.”
“Exactly, always some conditions.”
That evening, Alexey again found himself stuck between them. He listened first to his mother, then to his wife, and then said the usual:
“Just a few days left. Let’s try to make it through without any conflicts.”
“I’m trying to avoid conflicts,” Marina replied. “I close the door. I’m still interrupted.”
“Mom, really, just don’t go in there.”
“I don’t need anything from her in there!” Valentina Sergeyevna huffed. “As if I can’t live without her.”
The next day, she didn’t come out until lunchtime. But at 1 PM, she started calling Marina from the kitchen because the delivery guy had brought groceries and “it’s too hard for me to unpack everything by myself.” Marina didn’t come out. In the evening, her mother-in-law told her son that his wife didn’t even help bring in the bags after her surgery.
As it turned out, the delivery guy had put the bags right on the kitchen table.
At that moment, Marina realized it wasn’t about actually helping. For Valentina Sergeevna, what mattered was that her daughter-in-law responded immediately when called. The closed door itself annoyed her.
On Friday, before an important presentation, Marina had a separate talk with both her husband and her mother-in-law.
“Tomorrow at noon I have a meeting with a new client,” she said at dinner. “It’s very important. We’ve been preparing the materials for nearly a month. I’ll need an hour, maybe an hour and a half. During that time, I won’t leave my office at all.”
“On Saturday?” Valentina Sergeevna was surprised.
“It’s convenient for the client on Saturday.”
“Strange kind of job.”
“It is what it is.”
“Well, at least could we have tea together in the morning?”
“Of course, until eleven.”
Alexey immediately supported his wife:
“Mom, seriously, let’s not bother her tomorrow. She has an important project.”
Valentina Sergeevna pressed her lips together.
“You’d think I was bothering her on purpose.”
“No one said that,” Marina replied.
“It’s written all over your face.”
She went to the living room.
Alexey looked at his wife.
“Why did you have to upset her again?”
“I just wanted to warn her.”
“She’s still anxious after her surgery.”
“And I can’t be anxious about my work?”
“Marina, that’s enough. It’s just one more day to put up with.”
In the morning, Alexey left on business. Marina had breakfast with her mother-in-law, cleaned up the cups, and even stayed with her for about twenty minutes in the kitchen on purpose. At eleven forty-five, she went to her office.
“Valentina Sergeevna, I’m starting now. If it’s nothing urgent, please wait until after two.”
“Yes, yes, I get it.”
The first twenty minutes of the meeting went perfectly. Four representatives from the new company appeared on the screen. Marina was showing the presentation, a colleague joined in from the office, and the client asked questions. This was the very project that could keep their studio busy for months.
At twelve twenty, there was a knock at the door.
Marina didn’t answer.
A minute later, the knocking came again.
She kept talking.
Then from the hallway came a voice:
“Marina! Your tea will get cold!”
Marina muted her microphone and said loudly enough:
“I’m in a meeting!”
There was a pause.
She then unmuted her microphone.
“I’m sorry. So, regarding the second facade option…”
Five minutes later, Valentina Sergeevna called her again.
This time, Marina didn’t react at all.
And then things happened so quickly that at first, nobody understood what was going on. The picture on the screen froze. The client’s voice cut out. The connection icon disappeared from the corner of the monitor.
Marina thought it was an issue with the provider. She refreshed the page. The internet was still out.
She stood up and left her office.
Valentina Sergeevna was sitting in the kitchen with her cup.
“The internet’s gone,” Marina said. “Did you touch anything?”
“I turned off that box.”
At first, Marina didn’t even understand.
“What box?”
“The one with the lights. You never come out anyway. You can turn the internet back on later. Family is more important than that computer.”
Marina stared at her for a few seconds.
“Did you turn off the router?”
“Why are you looking at me like that? You’ll just turn it back on.”
Marina rushed over to the shelf, turned the power back on, and waited for the router to boot up. After a few minutes, she joined the conference call again.
By then, the client was already discussing things with her colleague. Marina apologized and tried to continue, but the conversation had lost its flow. The client’s manager stayed polite, but there was an obvious coldness.
“Let’s reschedule the rest,” he said. “We need to stick to our schedule.”
After the meeting, her colleague called her separately.
“Marina, what happened?”
“My internet got turned off.”
“By who?”
Marina looked toward the kitchen.
“Someone turned it off at home.”
She didn’t explain any further.
Valentina Sergeevna didn’t think she’d done anything wrong.
“Come on, it was just a few minutes,” she said. “I called you three times. You couldn’t even answer me properly.”
“Because I was working.”
“You were just sitting there in front of the computer.”
“That is my job!”
“Don’t yell at me. I’m not a little girl.”
Marina realized that if she kept going, she’d say something she’d regret. She went to the bedroom, closed the door, and called Alexey.
“Your mother turned off the internet in the middle of my presentation.”
“What do you mean turned it off?”
“She unplugged the router.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because I didn’t come out to have tea with her.”
Alexey was silent.
“Lyosha, I’m not joking.”
“I get it. Let me come over and talk to her.”
“It’s too late for talking.”
“Marina, don’t get worked up right now.”
“My meeting with a new client got completely ruined.”
“Well, you can just reschedule the meeting.”
After that, Marina hung up.
By five in the evening, she knew what she had to do. She found a ticket for the next day, paid for it, ordered a taxi for the morning, and went to see her mother-in-law.
“Valentina Sergeevna, you’re leaving tomorrow.”
The woman looked up.
“What?”
“Your ticket is for tomorrow. The taxi will come in the morning. Please pack your things.”
“Are you kicking me out?”
“I’m sending you home earlier than planned.”
“After my surgery?”
“You go shopping, cook, clean, even turn off the electronics. You’re not bedridden. If you need help, Alexey can go with you.”
Her mother-in-law immediately called her son.
When Alexey arrived, there were already two suitcases by the front door. Valentina Sergeevna was sitting on a bench in a light cardigan, crying. Marina had just finished another work call and came out of her office in a dark blue blouse and straight pants.
“What are you doing?” Alexey shouted as he walked in.
“Me?”
“Mom says you bought a ticket for her and you’re kicking her out.”
“After she deliberately ruined my work meeting.”
“She turned off the internet by accident!”
Valentina Sergeevna sobbed.
“I just wanted her to at least have some tea with me…”
Marina turned to her husband.
“Has your mom lost her mind? She ruined my work call just because she felt like bossing me around in my own apartment! Say one more thing about how miserable she is, and I’ll send you to the train station after her!”
“Do you hear yourself?” Alexey stepped closer but stopped. “She’s an elderly woman who just had surgery!”
“An elderly woman who knew exactly where the router was and why she wanted it off.”
“She just doesn’t understand your job!”
— That doesn’t give her the right to break it.
— Break it? Oh come on, Marina! The internet was down for five minutes!
— That was long enough to ruin my presentation.
— You’re blowing this way out of proportion.
— No, I’m not. It was nothing when she came in to ask about the potatoes. It was nothing when she turned on the vacuum cleaner. I asked her. Then I asked her again. Then you asked me to be patient. And today, she turned off the internet on purpose.
— Mom, did you do that on purpose? — Alexei finally turned to his mother.
She dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
— I thought you’d just step away for five minutes. Son, I didn’t know that something like this would happen because of that little box.
— You knew I was in a meeting, — said Marina.
— I knew you were sitting at the computer.
— Exactly.
Alexei ran his hand through his hair in frustration.
— That’s enough. Mom, pack your bag, I’ll drive you. Marina, calm down. I’ll be back and then we’ll talk.
— And don’t come back expecting me to apologize.
— I haven’t asked for anything yet.
— You’ve already called it a trifle.
He picked up one suitcase, then the other. Valentina Sergeyevna stood up slowly.
— I’ll never visit you again, — she told her daughter-in-law.
— That’s your decision.
— Of course, that’s just what you wanted.
Alexei shot his wife a heavy look.
— Happy now?
— No.
He left with his mother.
On the way to the station, they barely spoke. Valentina Sergeyevna was crying less, but she kept repeating that she never expected such cruelty from her daughter-in-law. Alexei was angry at both of them. At his mother—for messing with the router. At Marina—because he felt she could’ve just waited a few more days.
At the station, he set the suitcases down by a bench.
— Mom, will you be okay traveling alone?
— Of course, — she answered with a hurt look. — According to your wife, I’m not helpless.
That comment stung him.
He glanced at the board, then at his mother, and to his own surprise, headed to the ticket counter. He bought a ticket for the same train.
— You’re coming with me? — Valentina Sergeyevna was surprised.
— Yes. Just for a couple of days.
He texted Marina from the train: “I’ll come back when you apologize to Mom.”
She replied with one sentence: “Then don’t hurry.”
On the next workday, a letter came from a potential client. They thanked her for the presentation, but said they chose another team. Officially, the reason was timing and an internal company decision. Marina understood perfectly well that one interrupted meeting probably wasn’t the only factor, but after that call, the client stopped responding as quickly, and the promised follow-up never happened.
Marina’s manager didn’t make a scene.
— That’s a shame, — he said. — It was a good project. But it happens.
It happens.
But no one was going to make up for the months of lost work.
A few days after the presentation, a colleague finally asked Marina directly if things were calm at home now. Marina wanted to brush it off at first, but then briefly explained that her mother-in-law had left and her husband had gone with her.
— Because of the router? — her colleague asked in surprise.
— Not just because of that.
For the first time, Marina realized she didn’t feel the need to justify her decision in detail anymore. In the past, she used to list every circumstance: the potatoes, the vacuum cleaner, the bags, the tea, the closed door. But now, it no longer mattered. Anyone who wanted to understand got it from just one fact: an adult had been told several times not to interfere during work hours, yet they did it on purpose.
Work soon settled back into its usual rhythm. At the next presentation, Marina warned her colleague they’d have mobile internet as a backup just in case. The connection held steady. The client was satisfied. Still, the awkwardness over that ruined conversation with her old company stayed with her, especially when she was introducing herself to new clients and had to prove that everything on her end was reliable.
Alexey had been staying at his mother’s for almost a month. At first, Marina thought he’d come back after a week. Then it became clear that he was more interested in waiting for an apology.
They talked over the phone.
“Marina, could you just tell my mom you overreacted?”
“And what about her admitting she deliberately messed with the router?”
“Here you go again.”
“Because that’s exactly what happened.”
“She was nervous after her surgery.”
“Alexey, she shut off the internet because I didn’t come have tea.”
“You’re making this all about that stupid internet.”
“Because that’s why I lost a client.”
“You can’t prove it was only because of that.”
“And you can’t even admit she was wrong, not even once.”
That’s usually where the conversation would end.
Twenty-seven days later, Alexey showed up one evening with his suitcase. No warning. He just rang the doorbell.
Marina opened the door and saw him standing there in the hallway.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I’m coming home.”
He even moved his suitcase closer to the door.
Marina didn’t step aside.
“We haven’t agreed on anything.”
“Marina, seriously? I lived with my mom for a month.”
“By your own choice.”
“Are you really not going to let me in now?”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m your husband.”
“And?”
“I’ve lived here for three years.”
“This is my apartment. You know that perfectly well.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, as if waiting for her to give in at the last moment.
“So you’re willing to break up the family over my mom?”
“No, Alexey. I’m just not willing to pretend nothing happened.”
“I already said: she was wrong. But you overreacted too.”
For the first time in a month, Marina heard him say, “she was wrong,” but what followed ruined it.
“And what exactly was I supposed to do?”
“Not kick her out the very next day. Let her recover. Then talk things through.”
“She wasn’t bedridden.”
“Marina…”
“And again, you’re only talking about her.”
Alexey grabbed his suitcase handle.
“Fine. If you don’t want me here, I won’t stay.”
“I don’t want to go through this whole argument again.”
“Then I guess we really have nothing left to talk about.”
He left again.
After that, they only spoke by phone for several more weeks. Sometimes the conversation started off calm: who would pick up his things, what to do about joint purchases, when he could come get his books and winter clothes. But every time, it ended up turning into the same argument.
Alexey demanded respect for his mother.
Marina insisted that her work was not a whim, and wanted at least some acknowledgment that her mother-in-law had interfered deliberately.
Valentina Sergeyevna didn’t call her even once.
After her husband left, it was the little things that made the breakup harder than any heated argument. His suits still hung in the closet, his toiletries were in the bathroom, and his favorite mug sat in the kitchen. Marina didn’t throw anything away or pack bags dramatically. One day, she simply cleared his shoes from half the hallway and put them in a box—just to stop tripping over them every day.
Alexey would sometimes message her about small things. He’d ask her to find a charger, check where some car paperwork was, or whether she still had his winter coat. In these messages, they somehow managed to talk without fighting. But anytime the topic turned to his mother or the lost order, all the old arguments flared back up.
Marina tried a few times to explain that it wasn’t the damage itself, but the sequence of events that mattered. If the router had gone off accidentally, she would’ve been annoyed with the device. If Valentina Sergeyevna had just come in once without warning, Marina would’ve dealt with it. But the woman knew about the presentation in advance, called out to her repeatedly and, getting no answer, had deliberately cut the internet. For Marina, it was that chain of choices that meant the most.
Alexey kept focusing on something else:
“She didn’t understand the consequences.”
“So that means you can do anything you want, as long as you don’t know the consequences?”
“Don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not twisting them. I just want you to acknowledge what she actually did.”
“I admitted she was wrong.”
“That took you a month. And even then, you immediately added that it was also my fault.”
And so they kept going around in circles.
Two months later, Marina filed for divorce.
The office looked almost the same as before: same monitor, webcam, router on the shelf. After what happened, Marina bought a mobile modem—just in case her internet provider had an outage. It was almost funny now: she could protect herself from random malfunctions, but no backup internet could shield her from someone who decided, on purpose, that their tea was more important than someone else’s work.
Alexey came for his things a week after learning about the divorce papers. He arrived during the day, while Marina was between meetings. They almost didn’t argue.
“Are you really going through with this?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“All for just one incident?”
Marina looked at him.
“If, after two months, you’re still calling it just one incident, then yes—especially yes.”
He didn’t argue anymore.
They didn’t get the lost order back. The studio picked up other projects, and Marina kept working, but every time before an important call, she couldn’t help checking the router’s power and locking her office door.
Alexey lived on his own now. He called his mother every day, but started to notice that her care easily turned into orders. When Valentina Sergeyevna tried to tell him which apartment to rent and why his chosen neighborhood “wasn’t for a normal man,” for the first time, he firmly told her not to interfere.
She took offense.
Alexey almost laughed at that point, but there was nothing funny about it.
Marina had no idea. By then, it didn’t really matter to her anymore whether he finally started noticing the things she’d been pointing out for months, or not.
Her apartment was quiet again. When the office door closed, no one came in anymore to ask about dinner, no one turned on the vacuum cleaner along the wall, and nobody decided that a family tea was more important than someone else’s work call.
And the project that could have become one of her best of the year ended up with another team. No apologies, reasoning, or late realizations could change that now…