— Sveta, here’s the thing. Mom needs help: the balcony windows have to be washed — she can’t manage it herself anymore. And groceries need to be bought for the week, the list is quite long. Can you go today?
Kirill entered the kitchen wearing casual sweatpants and a crumpled T-shirt, radiating that relaxed weekend vibe. He went to the water filter, poured himself a glass, barely noticing his wife as usual. Svetlana was sitting at the small table by the window, slowly sipping her morning coffee. Sunlight played on the tablecloth in whimsical patterns, but her gaze was focused somewhere inward.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been asked for something like this. It had started with innocent errands: “Sveta, pass some bread to Mom,” “Can you drop by with some medicine?” Then it turned into regular trips across town with heavy bags, thorough cleanings at her mother-in-law’s, and even minor repairs that Anna Lvovna insisted “only someone young and agile could do.” Meanwhile, Kirill hardly ever showed up to his mother’s place. He always had things to do, was tired, or simply “didn’t feel like it.” “Well, you’re free,” he’d say, and Svetlana would sigh and go. She dragged bags, cleaned, fixed things, patiently listening to her mother-in-law’s complaints about her health, prices, neighbors, and… how “poor Kiryusha got the short end of the stick.”
— Kirill, — her voice sounded surprisingly calm, but there was steel in it, enough for him to turn his head. — I’ve already told you. I’m your wife, not your mother’s assistant, and certainly not a free housekeeper. If Anna Lvovna needs help, especially something serious like this, why don’t you go yourself? You have the day off, don’t you? Or did you forget?
Kirill blinked, confused. Usually, conversations like this ended with Svetlana agreeing after a little persuasion.
— Well… I thought you… — he stumbled, frowning. — It’s not difficult! Women’s work — washing windows, buying groceries… You know better than me how to handle this.
Svetlana grimaced, and that smirk promised trouble.
— “Women’s work?” — she repeated sarcastically. — Interesting. So carrying five-kilogram bags of potatoes and then hanging out on the seventh floor scrubbing dirt off windows is now exclusively a woman’s duty? And you’ll be resting at home, saving your strength to settle comfortably on the couch in the evening?
Tension in the room grew. Kirill sharply set his glass down on the counter. His face began to redden.
— What are you starting again? I just asked! You know, Mom is alone, her age, it’s hard for her! Instead of help — hysterics!
— Hysterics? — Svetlana raised an eyebrow. — So my unwillingness to be a slave is “hysterics”? Listen carefully.
— What else?
— I’m your wife, not a running girl! If your mommy needs help — you should go and help yourself!
— What does that have to do with me? I told you…
— She’s your mother. Yours. And if she’s really struggling, it’s your duty as a son to help her. Or do you think the son should dump all this on his wife? By the way, I’m not asking you to help my mother. Her problems are mine, and I handle them myself. So, darling, take the list, the rag, the bucket, and go to your mother. You can even use my gloves if you don’t have your own. I’ll take care of my own business. No more of these “requests” will be accepted. Got it?
Kirill looked at her like she was an alien. The familiar order was breaking down. Svetlana always gave in. But now — coldly, decisively, without options.
— Do you even understand what you’re saying?! It’s disrespect for elders! For my mother! — he raised his voice, stepping forward.
Svetlana didn’t flinch.
— No, Kirill. This is self-respect. Basic self-respect. If you don’t understand this — that’s your problem.
She stood up, calmly walked around the table, and left the kitchen, leaving him alone among the sunlit spots, broken comfort, and a sudden thought: the world was no longer so comfortable.
Kirill wasn’t going to give up. He followed her into the living room where Svetlana deliberately sat down with a book. He stopped in the doorway, clenching his fists, his face burning with anger.
— You just decided to refuse like that? — he hissed. — Decided you don’t have to listen to my requests? To my mother? Is that normal for a wife?
Svetlana slowly lowered the book.
— And you think it’s normal, Kirill, to shift your son’s duties onto your wife? — she asked without raising her voice. — You talk about your mother, but somehow forget that she’s yours. She has a son. An adult, healthy one, with a day off. Why does this son send his wife instead of helping himself, while he plans to spend the day on the couch?
— Because before no one minded! — Kirill almost shouted, stepping sharply into the room. — You always helped, and everything was fine! What’s changed? Maybe you think you have a crown on your head now or imagine yourself special?
— What’s changed is that I can’t do it anymore, — Svetlana answered calmly. There was no anger in her voice — only deep, long-accumulated fatigue. — I’m tired of being a convenient helper for both of you, not a full human being. Tired that no one considers my time, strength, or desires. You say: “You always agreed.” But have you ever thought about what it cost me? How many times I sacrificed my plans, my rest, even my health, just to please you and your mother?
Kirill snorted and waved his hand as if shooing away a pesky fly.
— Oh, here come the sacrifices again! A real saint martyr! Nobody forced you. You went willingly. So you must have been comfortable with it!
— I went because I wanted to keep peace in the family, — Svetlana said bitterly. — Because I hoped you’d appreciate it, feel how much I do. But you took it for granted. As if I’m obligated to serve all your relatives. And you know what’s interesting? My mother has never once asked you to come help her with windows or the garden work. Even though it’s hard for her too. She understands that we have our own life. But your mother, along with you, somehow sees me as a kind of free resource to use on demand.
— Don’t compare them! — he snapped, his face twisted with anger. — My mother always tried for us! And now, when she asks for help, you behave like this? That’s just selfishness!
— And who’s going to think about me if not me? — Svetlana looked him straight in the eyes, without fear or guilt. Only confidence and resolve. — You? Who doesn’t even notice how I look after the next “help” to your mother? Or Anna Lvovna, who after cleaning starts telling how the neighbor’s daughter-in-law even bakes pies every day? No, Kirill. That stage is over. I will no longer be a doormat everyone wipes their feet on, hiding exploitation behind words like “duty” and “help.”
Tension grew. Kirill felt himself losing control. His usual status, his right to command and influence — everything was collapsing before his eyes. He was used to Svetlana being soft and compliant. But this woman with cold eyes and a firm voice was throwing him off balance.
— You’re just ungrateful! — he gasped, outraged. — We come to you with all our hearts, and you… You appreciate nothing! You don’t care about our feelings!
— Oh, feelings! — Svetlana laughed, but there was no joy in that laugh. — When was the last time you cared about my feelings, Kirill? When I crawled home after a whole day at your mother’s, and you just said: “Good. Did everything get done? Well done.” My needs? My need to rest, to simple human attention — was that taken into account? No. It’s much easier to have a wife who silently does everything she’s told.
Kirill paced the room like a trapped beast. His usual tactics of pressure, accusations, and reproaches didn’t work. It only made him more furious.
— Fine, — he finally stopped, breathing heavily. — If you don’t want to be nice about it, it’ll be different. Now you’ll hear my mother’s opinion!
He took out his phone and quickly dialed. Svetlana sat calmly, a slight shadow of contempt on her face. She knew this move — the “heavy artillery” of the mother who’s always on the son’s side.
After a few seconds, Anna Lvovna’s displeased voice came through:
— Kiryusha, why are you calling so early? I’m just measuring my blood pressure, trying not to worry.
— Mom, can you imagine what’s going on?! — he began loudly so Svetlana could hear every word. — I asked Sveta to go help you with windows and groceries, like usual. But she threw a tantrum! She says you’re my mother, so I should go and “work hard” myself, and she’s not a running girl! Can you imagine?
A heavy silence hung. Svetlana smiled inwardly. She knew how her mother-in-law liked to show outrage with pauses.
— Whaaat? — finally Anna Lvovna stretched the word out, voice full of fake surprise and triumphant indignation. — So she said that? About me?!
— Yes, Mom, exactly! — Kirill took over. — She says you’re my mother, not hers, and I should take care of you! And she’s tired! Nonsense! I’m shocked!
— Well, Kiryusha, young people… — the mother-in-law’s voice became plaintive. — I thought the daughter-in-law was like family… But she’s like that…
— Give me the phone, — Svetlana asked evenly.
Kirill looked at her like a winner.
— Afraid? Want to apologize to Mom?
— Give me the phone, — she repeated, and in her voice was such cold certainty that he wilted a bit and handed her the phone, putting it on speaker.
— Hello, Anna Lvovna, — Svetlana began calmly, professionally. — I heard your conversation and want to clarify the situation.
— Svetočka, dear, what’s wrong with you and Kiryusha? He’s so upset… Why are you like this with him? And with me… We’re family.
— Anna Lvovna, if you really need help, especially physically demanding help like washing windows and carrying groceries, then you need to ask your son, — Svetlana continued firmly. — He has the day off, he’s healthy, and it’s his duty as a son to take care of his mother. I’m his wife, not your housekeeper.
— Sveta, dear, you’re the lady of the house… — the mother-in-law sang, now with a note of irritation. — Kiryusha is a man, he has other tasks. He provides for the family…
— I work too, Anna Lvovna, — Svetlana interrupted. — And my day off is just as valuable. I’m not going to do regular work for your family for free. If it’s hard for you to clean, you can hire a cleaning service. That’s a real solution.
— Cleaning service?! — Anna Lvovna was outraged. — To let strangers into the house? People will judge! They’ll think son and daughter-in-law forgot about me!
— I don’t care what strangers think, — Svetlana replied firmly. — I care about my right to my own life and rest. And I won’t allow myself to be manipulated anymore, hiding behind age or supposed frailty. If Kirill is ashamed to help his mother himself or thinks it’s beneath his dignity — that’s his problem, not mine.
A tense silence hung on the line. Only the heavy, uneven breathing of Anna Lvovna was audible.
— So that’s how it is? — she finally hissed, and there was no softness left in her voice. Only cold anger and resentment. — Decided to show who’s boss in the house? Well, Svetočka… I won’t leave it like that. If you’re against family, against order, against respect for elders — I’ll come myself and settle it. We’ll have a serious talk. You’ll learn how to behave!
With a loud click, she hung up. Kirill shot Svetlana a victorious look: now we’ll see how long you stick to your guns. And she just put the phone on the table. She was ready. It was only the beginning.
Forty minutes later, the house was rocked by a sharp, insistent knock — as if they were trying to break down the door. Kirill, who had been nervously pacing, rushed to open it. Svetlana stayed in her chair, though inside she was trembling. But her resolve was iron — she wouldn’t show weakness.
— Mom! Finally! You have no idea what happened here! — Kirill shouted from the hallway, full of indignation and righteous outrage.
Anna Lvovna entered the living room like a hurricane. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes blazing, scarf half-slipped from her shoulders. Everything about her screamed readiness for battle.
— Come here, girl! — she lunged at Svetlana, who calmly stood up to meet her. — What do you think you’re doing?! How dare you boss my son around?! How dare you talk to me like that?!
— Hello, Anna Lvovna, — Svetlana replied, keeping her outward politeness, which only made the mother-in-law more furious. — Glad you came. Now we can talk calmly, without misunderstandings.
— Talk?! — she shrieked. — I have nothing to discuss with a woman who’s rude to her husband’s mother! We took you into the family, and you turn out to be a snake! And where was Kiryusha when you said that?
— He was right there, Mom! — the son supported her. — He says I should wash your windows myself! That she’s not obliged! Can you imagine?
— I didn’t just “say that,” Kirill, — Svetlana calmly corrected. — I told the truth. You’re this woman’s son. So it’s your duty to care for her. And if you think your wife should do it for you — then you’re either lazy or not a man at all.
— How dare you?! — Anna Lvovna gasped. — My son works! He has no strength! And you sit at home doing nothing!
— I work too, Anna Lvovna, — Svetlana’s voice hardened. — And I earn no less than your son. And my home is not a free service center for your family. You raised a man who can’t make decisions without you. And I’m tired of being part of this system, where I’m forever a helper and a scapegoat.
Her words hit like slaps. Kirill faltered, unsure what to say. His mother trembled with rage.
— I gave him my whole life! Didn’t sleep nights! And you come in ready-made and judge me?!
— Precisely because you gave him everything, he remains a dependent child, — Svetlana didn’t give her a chance. — He should have become independent long ago. But you preferred to keep him on a short leash. And I will no longer be part of this family theater.
Kirill finally exploded:
— Shut up! — he shouted, stepping forward. — You crossed all boundaries! My mother is a saint! And if you don’t like it, you can leave! I choose my mother! She’s the only one I have, and there are plenty like you!
Those words were the final blow. Svetlana looked at him with a long, cold stare.
— Fine, Kirill, — she said quietly but firmly. — You made your choice. And now I know what you’re worth. I want nothing to do with you or your mother. Pack your things. Or you can go to her right away. I don’t care. This nightmare is over.
She turned away, making it clear the conversation was finished. Behind her, the hysterical shouting of mother and son continued. But Svetlana no longer listened. She looked out the window where a new day was beginning. A huge burden lifted from her shoulders. Ahead was the unknown. But there was freedom. And behind her were two people who lost not just a daughter-in-law or wife — they lost their chance for a normal life, finally closing themselves off in their toxic union.