Tanya was going through documents in the drawer of her desk, trying to tidy up the papers that had been accumulating over the years. Among the old receipts and instructions for long-broken appliances, she found the divorce certificate. December. Four months had already passed.
The divorce from Misha felt rather mundane. No shouting, no breaking dishes. There wasn’t really much to divide. The apartment had been given to Tanya by her parents before she got married, and she had also bought her own car. Misha took his things, his books, and left. No unnecessary words, as if he were leaving for a few days on a business trip, not permanently.
Tanya set the document aside. Now, this paper was just one of many. Once, it had seemed that a divorce was something terrifying, irreversible. But it turned out to be just an ordinary document with a seal and signatures.
The dacha also remained with Tanya. She had bought it before meeting Misha, and it was registered in her name. A small plot of six hundred square meters with a little house, an old apple tree, and currant bushes. Nothing special, but a quiet and peaceful place. Misha never really wanted to go there, but his mother, Nina Sergeevna, loved to visit. Every season, she would come with seedlings, jars, and preserves. And with her own order.
— Tanya, how can you plant like this? Tomatoes next to cucumbers! Everyone knows they shouldn’t be close! — Nina Sergeevna would clutch her chest, as if Tanya were committing a serious crime.
— I’ve been planting like this for years, Nina Sergeevna, and everything grows, — Tanya tried to justify herself.
— Oh, the youth. They don’t know anything, can’t do anything, — the mother-in-law would sigh and start redoing everything her way.
All winter after the divorce, Tanya stayed home. She enjoyed the silence. No one turned on the TV at full volume during football matches. No one left socks lying around. No one asked, “What’s for dinner?” with such an expression as if it were the only female duty.
After work, she could sit in her chair with a book and read for as long as she wanted. Or just lie down and stare at the ceiling. For the first time in years, Tanya felt how pleasant it was to just listen to the silence. In that silence, she was rediscovering herself. It turned out she liked to paint with watercolors. And also, she enjoyed assembling puzzles. And she liked to dance when no one was watching.
In the spring, she felt a pull towards nature. She wanted to leave the apartment and breathe fresh air. Tanya decided to go to the dacha, just to relax. Not to dig, not to plant, not to weed. Maybe just work on the flowerbeds — she had always liked flowers. To tidy up the house after the winter, whitewash the trees, sit on the veranda.
On Friday, after work, Tanya packed the necessary things into her bag: jeans, T-shirts, a hoodie, rubber boots. She threw some groceries into the trunk and set off. The trip was quick — there were almost no traffic jams. It was getting dark when she turned onto the familiar dirt road.
The May evening smelled of lilacs and fresh grass. The windows of the neighboring houses glowed with a warm light. In some of the yards, dacha owners were already bustling, eager to work the soil after the winter. Tanya parked at the gate and took the bags out of the trunk. It seemed that ahead of her lay peace, tranquility, and a few days just for herself.
As she walked toward the house, Tanya noticed that the light was on in the window. Strange. Maybe she had forgotten to turn it off in the fall? No, she definitely had turned it off. Maybe the neighbors? But they didn’t have keys.
Tanya cautiously opened the gate and walked to the house. The yard was tidy, the beds were dug up and neatly marked with strings. The flowerbed already had some green shoots. Tanya looked around, surprised. Someone had clearly been tending to the plot.
The door to the little house was not locked. Tanya gently pushed it open and froze in the doorway. On the veranda, sitting at the table, was Nina Sergeevna. Wrapped in a blanket, with a cup of tea and a magazine in her hands. By the door were her slippers with pom-poms. On the table was an open jar of pickled cucumbers. As always.
Tanya stood frozen in the doorway. Nina Sergeevna looked up and, seeing her former daughter-in-law, smiled as if nothing special was happening.
— Tanya! I thought you were coming tomorrow, — she adjusted her glasses. — Would you like some tea? I just brewed some.
— Nina Sergeevna? — Tanya could only manage to squeeze out.
— How did I get here? — she asked, confused.
— The same as always, — Nina Sergeevna shrugged. — I always come in the spring. I prepared the beds, brought the seedlings. We’ll plant tomorrow.
— But we… — Tanya paused, unsure how to remind her about the divorce.
— I know you and Misha are divorced, — Nina Sergeevna said calmly, stirring her tea. — But that doesn’t mean the land should lie fallow. I’ve always prepared everything. It’s just a habit.
Tanya stood silently in the doorway. Inside, something tightened. Could it be that nothing had changed? Neither the divorce, nor all the words spoken, nor the coldness during the final months of the marriage, nor the scandals…
— Nina Sergeevna, — Tanya began, not knowing what she would say next. — But we and Misha are no longer…
— Yes, I know, — her mother-in-law interrupted. — But the dacha is still here. And I’m used to it. You’re used to it too. And Misha now has his own life, a new family. He doesn’t care about the beds.
— A new family? — Tanya flinched. Of course, she suspected Misha wouldn’t be alone for long. But somehow, those words stung.
— Yes, — Nina Sergeevna nodded, as if talking about something completely ordinary. — He married a month ago. Irina from accounting. I told him he was rushing, but he’s an adult man.
Tanya slowly set her bag down on the floor. For some reason, the news made it harder for her to breathe. She had imagined so many times how Misha would suffer, regret the divorce. But he had gone and gotten married. So quickly, as if their ten years together hadn’t existed.
— So, would you like some tea? — Nina Sergeevna asked again, as if she hadn’t noticed her former daughter-in-law’s state. — And help me make the bed. My back hurts, and it’s hard for me to do it alone.
Tanya stared at this elderly woman who sat in her house as if she had every right to be there. Who spoke of Misha’s new wife as if Tanya were just an acquaintance. Who acted as if nothing had changed and was giving orders on the plot.
Something inside Tanya began to boil. Something she had been holding back for a long time, something that had no outlet. Something like hurt, anger, and disappointment all at once.
— Nina Sergeevna, — Tanya’s voice was unusually firm. — This is my house. Not your family hotel. Misha and I are divorced, he has a new family, and you’re acting as if nothing has changed?!
Nina Sergeevna put down her cup and looked at Tanya over her glasses.
— What’s changed? The land is the same, the beds are the same. And I’m the same. And you are too. The only thing that’s different is Misha’s gone.
— Everything has changed, — Tanya took a step forward. — Everything, do you understand? And I’m no longer obligated…
Nina Sergeevna pursed her lips and crossed her arms.
— Obligated to what? To take care of the land? To maintain order? Or did you think the dacha would take care of itself?
Tanya stepped away from the door and slowly walked deeper into the house. She set her bag on the floor and looked around. For the first time, she truly saw how much the interior had changed. This was no longer her home. It was ruled by her mother-in-law.
Everywhere she looked, there were bright floral tablecloths that Tanya had never liked. Cushions with embroidery. Kittens figurines on the windowsill. Opening the fridge, Tanya saw rows of preserves: cucumbers, tomatoes, compotes. Everything neatly labeled in her mother-in-law’s handwriting.
— Your things are everywhere, — Tanya said, closing the fridge. — It’s as if this is your house. As if you’re the mistress here.
— What’s wrong with that? — Nina Sergeevna stood up and started fixing the napkins on the table. — I’ve always come here. I can’t just leave the beds. It’s my season too. I’ve already prepared the seedlings, made a planting calendar.
— But this is my house. My property.
Nina Sergeevna shrugged, as if the formality of ownership didn’t concern her.
— Misha will be back, — her mother-in-law said confidently. — He’ll realize he acted too hastily.
Tanya shook her head. She couldn’t believe her ears.
— Nina Sergeevna, Misha got married. A month ago. You just said so yourself.
— It’s all temporary, — Nina Sergeevna waved her hand, as if swatting away a pesky fly. — So what, he signed papers. It’s easy to tear them up. He loves you, he’s just complicated. He’s just like his father.
— He’s going to have a child, — Tanya looked her mother-in-law straight in the eye. — With Irina. They’re expecting a baby. Misha told me when we were transferring the car papers.
Her mother-in-law hesitated for a moment but quickly regained her composure.
— So what? Children are good. But you could have… if you’d tried harder.
Tanya clenched her fists. This old song. Ten years of marriage, and all these hints: “You should have by now,” “The clock’s ticking,” “Everyone else has grandchildren.”
— We’ve discussed this already. A thousand times. I couldn’t have children. And Misha knew that before we got married.
— Medicine is advancing… — her mother-in-law began, but Tanya cut her off.
— You know it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t just about that. And it’s still not simple. This dacha is my property. I bought it before marrying Misha.
— But we’ve been coming here for years, — her mother-in-law’s voice was filled with hurt. — We had family barbecues here, birthdays. So many memories! I planted the rose bushes — with love! My favorites. Burgundy. I even have pictures of when we built the gazebo together.
Tanya sighed. Yes, they had come here as a family. Yes, they had some good moments. But that was all in the past. Now, this was her home, and only hers.
— You see, I’m no longer your son’s wife. I’m not part of your family. I don’t need to be polite or patient with you for the sake of keeping the peace. We are now just strangers.
Nina Sergeevna frowned.
— How are we strangers, Tanya? We’ve been together for so many years. I treated you like my own… shared recipes, gave advice…
Tanya thought about those “pieces of advice.” “Misha likes his eggs not runny,” “Misha hates it when his socks are in different places,” “Misha gets a headache from your perfume.”
— I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. Truly. But now I have my own life. And you have yours.
Her mother-in-law was silent, tracing her finger along the edge of her cup.
— So what am I supposed to do now? Where should I grow my seedlings? I’m used to this land. The neighbors are familiar.
Tanya felt the irritation building inside. This conversation was going nowhere. At some point, Tanya just couldn’t take it anymore.
— We’ve been divorced for a long time, he has a new family, and you’re here acting like I’m still his wife! — she said firmly and calmly. — This is my house, not your family hotel!
Nina Sergeevna fell silent. It seemed that her words had finally reached her. The mother-in-law set her cup on the table and pursed her lips. The room fell silent.
— Ungratefulness, that’s what this is, — her mother-in-law muttered finally. — All these years of care… And now what? Where should I grow my seedlings? Misha has this… Irina now. And I only have the balcony.
Tanya didn’t reply. Instead, she walked over to the front door and pointed to the gate. Her gesture spoke louder than words.
— The keys, please, — Tanya said softly but firmly.
Her mother-in-law gave her a skeptical look.
— Are you serious?
— Absolutely. The keys.
Her mother-in-law slowly stood up, took a keychain out of her pocket, and placed it on the table. Then, she began slowly collecting her things: her glasses, magazine, shawl.
— I thought we were being humane, — Nina Sergeevna said, putting on her coat. — I thought we became closer over the years. But it turns out all those talks, advice, and care were for nothing.
— Not for nothing, — Tanya replied. — It’s just that everything has its time. And our time has passed.
Nina Sergeevna pursed her lips, grabbed her bag, and headed for the exit. She looked back at the gate, as though expecting Tanya to change her mind and call her back. But Tanya just stood there – calm and firm. Her mother-in-law waved her hand and left.
Tanya closed the door behind her and returned to the house. The silence stood. The silence that had never been there with her mother-in-law. Tanya walked over to the table, took off the bright floral tablecloth, and folded it. Then, she opened the windows, letting in the fresh spring air. She took a deep breath.
For the first time in a long time, the air in the house belonged to her alone. Without any foreign smells, without any foreign rules, without any foreign expectations. Tanya walked through the rooms, collecting her mother-in-law’s things — cushions, figurines, albums. All of that could be passed on through mutual acquaintances.
Then she took out her sketchbook from her bag. She sat on the porch and began to sketch — the old apple tree, the currant bushes, and that same flowerbed with the roses her mother-in-law had planted. Well, perhaps the roses should stay. They really were beautiful. But now they would grow differently — not as a reminder of the past, but as part of a new present.
The sun was setting behind the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of pink. Tanya set aside the sketchbook and just sat, watching the sunset. Freedom — such a strange thing. It’s hard to accept all at once. It seems that without the usual boundaries and limits, life will fall apart. But then comes the realization — those boundaries were only preventing me from breathing.
Tanya smiled and closed her eyes, turning her face to the last rays of the sun. Tomorrow will be a new day. And the dacha will finally become what she had always seen it as — a cozy place where she could be herself. Without looking back at others’ expectations. Without needing to fit in. Just a home. Her home.