Nina sat with her legs tucked underneath her amid scattered magazines and glossy wedding dress catalogs. Outside the window, a gloomy October played with the last leaves, while inside Nina’s heart felt light and joyful. There were only two months left until the wedding! Nina flipped through the pages, stopping now and then on one style or another.
“Maybe this one?” Nina held the magazine closer to the monitor, showing the picture to her friend over a video call. “Isn’t it too elaborate?”
“It’s perfect in my opinion!” Masha exclaimed, simultaneously typing something on her keyboard. “Has Vanya seen it yet?”
“You bet!” Nina laughed, quickly closing the magazine with a swift movement. “They say the groom shouldn’t see the dress before the wedding—a bad omen.”
Nina got up from the sofa, shaking off her soft, fluffy lounge pants. Masha was saying something about a stylist and a salon, but Nina’s thoughts were already drifting away. They had been together with Vanya for almost a year now. These were her first truly serious relationship, where everything was planned and secure. No more bohemian artists or rock musicians, always broke. Vanya was an engineer at a construction company, with a good salary, plans for the future, and a stable job.
The only thing that slightly bothered Nina was Vanya’s parents. Margarita Pavlovna, a stately woman with a stern gaze that seemed to see right through not only Nina but her entire family lineage up to the seventh generation. And Nikolai Petrovich, a gaunt, perpetually silent man who at the dinner table answered only “yes” or “no,” as if he were always lost in thought.
“Nina!” Masha impatiently brought her friend back to reality. “Are you even listening to me? I’m asking, when did you book an appointment with the stylist?”
“Sorry, I got lost in thought,” Nina said, rubbing her brow. “Next Thursday, in the evening.”
When the call ended, Nina returned to her thoughts about Vanya’s parents. At their last meeting, Margarita Pavlovna had not missed an opportunity to needle her daughter-in-law:
“Darling, the cutlets need to be made with love,” her mother-in-law said, pushing her plate aside. “My little Vanya likes them juicier.”
“I’ll definitely keep that in mind next time,” Nina tried to smile, though her jaw was tense.
“And where did you bake the bread?” Margarita Pavlovna inspected the table.
“I bought it at the bakery…” Nina began, but Margarita Pavlovna simply shook her head with an expression that said, “I knew it.”
“Vanya likes homemade bread. I always bake my own.”
Vanya never reacted to such conversations. He would just smile as if it were an innocent joke, rather than a constant barrage of jabs at Nina. Only once, when Margarita Pavlovna started criticizing Nina particularly harshly, did Vanya put his hand on Nina’s wrist and say:
“Mom, that’s enough, alright?”
But it didn’t sound very convincing.
By the way, Vanya’s parents lived in a village, nearly three hours away from the city. They rarely came over. Nina tried not to think about it—after all, she was marrying Vanya, not his parents.
Vanya himself occasionally threw out strange phrases about how boring it was for his parents in the village, that they should somehow be rescued from there. Nina took it as typical sonly worries.
The sound of a key in the lock interrupted Nina’s reflections.
“Honey, I’m home!” Vanya burst into the apartment, laden with bags. His light brown hair was damp from a light rain, and a satisfied smile played on his face. “I bought that wine you wanted!”
Nina ran over to help him take off his jacket.
“So, what are we celebrating?”
“Nothing, I just wanted to make you happy.”
The evening was going well. They drank wine, watched a comedy, and laughed. Vanya talked about a new project at work, making plans for the future. And everything seemed perfect. Almost.
“By the way,” Vanya offhandedly remarked when the movie ended, “my father called today. He complains that my mother has become so depressed in the village.”
“Maybe they should see a doctor?” Nina suggested, settling comfortably on the sofa. “There are some excellent modern antidepressants now.”
“What does depression have to do with it?” Vanya raised his eyebrows. “They’re just bored. The neighbors have moved away, the store closed… Everything is getting harder.”
“Maybe they should move to the district center? There are more opportunities there,” Nina proposed.
“Yeah, but how would they pay for living there?” Vanya countered, finishing his wine. “Their pension is so small.”
“But you’re helping them, aren’t you?” Nina pointed out reasonably.
“Yeah, but…” Vanya paused for a second, gazing out the window. Then he smiled oddly and blurted out, “Honey, it’s good that your apartment is big! My parents will only take one room; otherwise, they’d get tired of living in the village!”
Nina froze. That moment reminded her of a strange dream in which she was desperately trying to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. The words were clear individually, but together they didn’t make sense in her head.
“Are you joking?” Nina forced a nervous laugh.
“Why would I joke?” Vanya reached for the bottle, pouring himself more wine. “They’re struggling, you know. And we’re going to help them. You’re not against that, are you?” he asked as if casually inviting her to a movie tomorrow.
“Vanya,” Nina placed her glass on the table. “We haven’t even discussed this. Besides, my apartment isn’t that big. Three rooms, one of which is my office.”
“Well, you could move the office to the kitchen,” Vanya easily suggested, as if he were merely talking about shifting a potted plant from the windowsill.
“Wait,” Nina straightened up. “You didn’t even ask for my opinion. You just presented it as a fait accompli.”
“Come on, you can’t kick them out!” Vanya looked at her in surprise. “Why are you getting so worked up?”
“Because it would be normal—first to discuss it, get my opinion, and then decide,” Nina felt her heart rate rising.
“They’re my parents,” Vanya’s voice took on a note of irritation. “I warned you, isn’t that enough?”
“Nina,” she took a deep breath, trying to speak calmly. “This is my apartment. I bought it with my own money—I worked for it for five years.”
“I thought you understood that family is shared,” Vanya said dismissively, turning away and crossing his arms. “It turns out you care too much about your own space for my parents.”
Nina couldn’t believe her ears. Where did this “space for my parents” come from? They were talking about a full relocation.
“Listen, maybe we could rent them an apartment nearby?” Nina suggested. “I could even help with the payment for the first few months.”
“Why spend money when we have your apartment?!” Vanya hurled the TV remote onto the sofa. “I don’t understand what the problem is!”
“The problem is that you didn’t even ask me!” Nina raised her voice—something that rarely happened. “You decided for both of us without asking what I wanted!”
“Am I supposed to ask for permission to help my parents?” Vanya jumped off the sofa.
At that moment, Nina was struck by the realization: Vanya didn’t even consider her opinion. He had already made up his mind. And they weren’t even married yet. What if Vanya decided to quit his job and live off her income? Or what if he sold her car without asking? And so on!
“Vanya,” Nina began.
“You know what,” Vanya interrupted, “if you find it so hard to accept my parents, then maybe we should reconsider our plans altogether.”
Nina froze. Was he really making their relationship conditional on her willingness to let his parents move in?
“Are you serious right now?”
Vanya was silent, staring intently at Nina. Suddenly, she felt a rush of heat.
“I think we both need to calm down and talk tomorrow,” Nina said as she rose from the sofa, preparing to head to the bedroom.
“What else!” Vanya suddenly grabbed her wrist, not letting her go. “We’re going to decide this right now.”
The grip was so sudden and strong that Nina froze, unable to believe what was happening. Who was this man? Was this really the Vanya she had spent the last year with?
“Let me go,” Nina said quietly.
“I won’t let go until we decide,” Vanya insisted stubbornly.
“Either you release my wrist right now, or I call the police,” Nina looked him straight in the eyes. “Your choice.”
For several seconds, a heavy tension hung between them. Nina didn’t look away, though inside she trembled. Finally, Vanya loosened his grip, leaving a reddish mark on her wrist.
“Sorry,” Vanya grumbled, stepping aside. “I’m just pissed that you won’t help my parents.”
Nina rubbed her hand, feeling a growing hurt inside. Did this man really not understand what had just happened? He grabbed her, hurt her, and now acted as if he were the victim.
“I’m going to sleep,” Nina said quietly. “We both need to cool off.”
“Yeah,” Vanya plopped back onto the sofa and turned up the TV volume demonstratively.
The following days turned into a tense truce. Nina and Vanya behaved politely but coldly. Their conversations were limited to trivial household matters: “We’re out of bread,” “I’ll be late tonight,” “Masha got called to the doctor.” There was no talk of his parents or the upcoming wedding.
On the morning of the fifth day, after Vanya had left for work, Nina’s phone rang. The caller ID showed “Margarita Pavlovna.” Nina took a deep breath, gathering her strength, and answered:
“Good morning.”
“It won’t be a good morning!” Margarita Pavlovna’s voice was sharp, like a whip crack. “I heard you don’t want to have us over! Well, fine, we’ll manage, since Vanya has already decided everything.”
Nina froze, phone in hand, trying to process what she had just heard.
“Margarita Pavlovna, Vanya and I are still discussing this…”
“What is there to discuss?” her mother-in-law interrupted. “My son said we’re moving in two weeks. Nikolai has already arranged a truck for the furniture.”
The room seemed to sway before Nina’s eyes. Had Vanya already set a moving date? Without even telling her?
“Margarita Pavlovna, I’m sorry, but I need to call back,” Nina hastily said and ended the call.
Her hands trembled as she dialed Vanya’s number. He didn’t answer. Of course, he was in a meeting. Nina sent him a message: “Your mom called. She said you’ve already decided about the move. We need to talk today.”
The reply came only three hours later: “Yes, we’ll talk tonight.”
The day dragged on interminably. Nina couldn’t concentrate on work; her thoughts kept returning to the conversation that was scheduled for the evening. When Vanya returned home, Nina was already waiting in the living room, composed and determined.
“Hi,” Vanya looked tired yet calm. “Let’s talk.”
“Let’s,” Nina said, motioning toward the chair opposite her. “Your mom said you’ve already set a moving date. Is that true?”
“Well, I’ve sort of planned it out,” Vanya shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “What’s the delay?”
“Vanya, I want you to listen to me,” Nina tried to speak calmly. “This is my apartment. My boundaries. I’m not ready to live with your parents.”
“Are you upset over one room?!” Vanya waved his hand irritably. “You have three! Don’t you think my parents deserve at least a corner?”
“It’s not about the room,” Nina shook her head. “It’s about you making decisions without me. You’ve put me in a corner again. First you say the parents are moving in, then you set a date. And my opinion doesn’t matter to you.”
“Because your opinion is selfish!” Vanya jumped to his feet. “I thought you were kind and caring, but it turns out…”
“What turns out?” Nina also rose. “That I have an opinion? That I want to be respected? That’s called self-respect, Vanya.”
“No, that’s called selfishness!”
Nina looked at Vanya’s flushed face and clenched fists and suddenly realized—she would have to fight for her personal space all her life if she didn’t set a boundary now.
“You know, Vanya, I’ve thought about this a lot these past few days,” Nina said slowly as she removed her engagement ring from her finger. “And I’ve realized I’m not ready to marry someone who considers my opinions insignificant.”
Vanya stared at the ring in her hand, unblinking.
“What… Are you canceling the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Over such nonsense?” Vanya seemed genuinely surprised. “Over the fact that I want to help my parents?”
“Not because of that,” Nina shook her head. “But because of how you’re going about it. Take the ring.”
Vanya remained silent, looking at her in disbelief.
“You can’t just cancel everything.”
“I can,” Nina said firmly. “And I’m canceling.”
Leaving the ring on the table, Nina walked out of the room. The next hour she spent packing Vanya’s things into a suitcase. When she returned to the living room, Vanya was still sitting on the sofa, but anger now burned in his eyes.
“So that’s it?” he spat through gritted teeth. “You’re just leaving me?”
“Vanya, this isn’t revenge,” Nina replied wearily. “I just realized that we view relationships very differently. It’s better to part ways now than to torment each other later.”
Vanya abruptly stood up and snatched the suitcase from Nina’s hands.
“You’ll regret this. You’ll understand what you’ve lost.”
As the door slammed behind him, Nina sank to the floor and finally burst into tears. Not from the breakup—she surprisingly felt sure she had done the right thing. She cried from exhaustion, from the tension of the past few days, from the realization of how many plans she now had to cancel: the restaurant, the dress, the photographer… But strangely, that prospect didn’t frighten her.
The phone rang as darkness fell outside. It was Margarita Pavlovna.
“Yes, I’m listening,” Nina tried to keep her voice even.
“What have you done?!” Margarita Pavlovna almost screamed. “Vanya told me everything! Are you completely heartless? You threw him out over nonsense?!”
“Margarita Pavlovna…”
“Shut up! My son loved you, and you… You’re so stingy, so selfish! You’ve destroyed a family!”
Nina listened to the torrent of accusations, holding the phone to her ear, yet remaining oddly calm. When Margarita Pavlovna finally finished, Nina said:
“I didn’t destroy a family. I never created one. Goodbye.”
And she hung up.
The following days were a flurry of errands: canceling the restaurant reservation, informing the guests, dealing with the dress… But with each resolved issue, Nina felt lighter, as if she were shedding an invisible burden.
A week after the breakup, Nina met Masha at a café.
“How are you?” her friend asked, looking at her with concern.
“You know,” Nina said thoughtfully while stirring her coffee, “I feel light. I thought I’d suffer, cry, and wallow in self-pity. Instead, I feel… free.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Not for a second,” Nina smiled. “I learned something important, Masha. It’s better to be alone in your own apartment than with freeloaders you never even invited.”
“It’s good you saw his true colors in time.”
“Yeah,” Nina nodded. “Imagine what would have happened if we’d gotten married? But now… my whole life is ahead of me. And I know for sure—I will never let anyone decide for me again.”
Outside, the autumn sun shone brightly. Nina caught herself breathing deeply for the first time in a long while. Without fear or doubt. The breakup with Vanya, which had seemed like an end, was really a beginning. A beginning of a life in which she had finally learned to value herself and her boundaries.