— Katya, are you almost there? I’m starving, I have no strength, — came Igor’s lazy, drawn-out voice from the room as Katya, barely stepping over the threshold, tried to find the light switch in the dark hallway.
The light finally flickered on, stabbing her tired eyes. She silently slipped off her shoes, feeling her feet buzz after a ten-hour workday and the crowded bus ride home. She walked into the only room of their small apartment, which once seemed so cozy, where her husband could be found. The apartment her parents had gifted them on their wedding day three years ago, selling their dacha and adding all their modest savings. Back then, it felt like the start of a fairy tale. Now Katya more and more often caught herself thinking that the fairy tale had turned into some long, bad dream.
Igor, as expected, was sprawled comfortably on the couch in front of the big TV they bought with Katya’s first paycheck. On the coffee table before him lay a mountain of empty chip bags, chocolate bar wrappers, and a couple of empty beer cans. The remote was lying nearby, and the “head of the family” didn’t even turn his head toward her, absorbed in some action movie blasting through the whole apartment.
— Have you ever tried cooking something yourself, since you’re so hungry? — Katya tried to keep her voice calm, but notes of steel were already cutting through. She glanced around the room: Igor’s scattered things, yesterday’s half-finished cup of tea on the windowsill, dusty surfaces. A scene that had become routine for her but no less irritating.
— You know I’m not good at this kitchen stuff, — Igor finally tore his eyes from the screen, giving her a fleeting look. — That’s women’s work. And anyway, why are you starting again? Everything was fine. You came home — feed me, that’s all.
Katya clenched her fists. “Everything was fine.” For whom? For him, who had been sitting at home for six months, scraping by on rare, random jobs, spending the money immediately on his “little male pleasures”? For him, whose main “work” was lying on the couch, watching TV, and occasionally telling Katya that she “doesn’t clean right,” “cooks wrong,” or “walks too loudly”? And she, Katya, after her main job ran to a part-time job to pay the bills, buy groceries, somehow make ends meet, and then crawled home to listen to his precious orders and serve him like a capricious master.
Today had been especially hard. Work was a mess, the boss yelled at her for someone else’s mistake, and then a difficult client appeared. She dreamed of only one thing — to come home, take a hot shower, and collapse to sleep. But at home awaited the usual mess and a hungry, perpetually dissatisfied husband.
— I’m filing for divorce, Igor, — the words slipped out firmly and unexpectedly even for herself. She didn’t say it loudly, but so that the gunfire from the TV suddenly seemed muffled. — I can’t do this anymore.
Igor slowly turned his head. No surprise or fear showed on his face. Rather, slight bewilderment, as if she’d said something silly not worth his attention. He lazily yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.
— Are you crazy, Katyushka? Overworked? What divorce? Everything is… fine.
— Fine?! — Katya felt a wave of rage boiling inside her, one she had long suppressed. — Maybe for you! Living in someone else’s apartment, at someone else’s expense, not lifting a finger, only telling me what to do! And I’m tired! Tired of being a workhorse, cook, cleaner, and ATM all at once! I want to live, not just exist, serving you!
Igor silently stared at her for a moment, squinting slightly. Then a crooked, unpleasant smirk appeared on his lips.
— You’ve gotten bold, I see. Your voice is sharper now. Well, go ahead, file then. Just keep in mind — — And what? — she interrupted.
— Try filing for divorce, my dear, and I’ll tell my mother everything immediately, and then you won’t have it easy!
Katya froze. She knew that her mother, Anna Sergeyevna, adored Igor. From the beginning of their acquaintance, he had managed to charm her by pretending to be a caring, attentive, and promising young man. Anna Sergeyevna considered him the perfect son-in-law, a real man, a support for her “good-for-nothing” Katya. Any of Katya’s attempts to hint that Igor was not ideal were immediately shut down. “Don’t make things up, Katya, Igor is gold, you just don’t appreciate your happiness,” was her usual response.
— My mother? — Katya gasped at the cruelty and meanness of his calculation. — You… you know how much she worries about me! How she… how she feels about you!
— Exactly! — Igor grinned wider, an unpleasant gleam in his eyes. — She will always be on my side because I’m the perfect son-in-law who puts up with her ungrateful daughter. She’ll give you such a dressing down you won’t like it. Forgot how much she values and respects me? How she always says I’m the only one who can put up with you, such a difficult one? So calm down, dear, — he turned back to the TV as if the conversation was over and the decision made. — And go make dinner. And forget about divorce if you don’t want big problems. Very big ones. And not just with her, by the way.
Katya stood in the middle of the room, feeling the ground slipping away beneath her feet. He wasn’t joking. She knew Igor well enough to understand — he was capable of such meanness. He would really call her mother and twist everything so that Katya would be blamed for all sins. And her mother would believe him. She would definitely believe him. Then her life would become an even greater hell. She looked at his relaxed back, at his profile lit by flickering action movie scenes, and hatred, thick and burning, rose in her, mixed with despair and a feeling of complete helplessness.
— So what about dinner then? Or am I supposed to choke on dry bread? — Igor stretched on the couch with a demonstrative sigh, not even turning his head, as if the threat he just threw that had overturned Katya’s world never happened.
She looked at him, and in her chest, instead of the usual mixture of fatigue and irritation, something new rose, cold and heavy as a tombstone. He really thought it was that simple: scare her, put her in her place, and she’d, like a beaten dog, tuck her tail and run to obey him. His impenetrable confidence, his brazen calm infuriated her to the point of grinding her teeth.
— I’m not going to cook anything, — Katya said firmly, and her own voice seemed foreign to her, hard as steel. — If you’re hungry, there’s bread and leftover soup in the kitchen. You can heat it up.
Igor slowly, very slowly turned around, looking her over with a long, studying glance, in which flickered something like surprise, but was immediately replaced by his usual condescending smirk.
— Oh wow, we decided to show some backbone? Well, well. Watch yourself, Katyusha, don’t get carried away. I wasn’t joking about your mom. One call — and she’ll be here teaching you a lesson. Want that? I’m sure not. She’s an impressionable lady, especially when it comes to her “golden” son-in-law.
He said it in such a mundane, almost affectionate tone that Katya shuddered. He wasn’t just threatening, he was enjoying his power, his impunity. He knew her weak spot — her mother, who despite all her blind love for Igor, was the only close person Katya cared about, even if she didn’t always agree with her.
Without another word, Katya went to the bedroom, the only place in this apartment where she could still feel somewhat alone. She didn’t turn on the light, just sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the darkness outside the window. Dinner. Divorce. Mother. Everything tangled into a painful, confusing knot in her head. He was really capable of this. Calling, saying nasty things, making her look like a monster, and himself — the innocent victim. And her mother would believe. She always believed Igor, his persuasive voice, his ability to throw dust in the eyes, his stories about how he “carries Katya in his arms” and she, ungrateful, doesn’t appreciate it.
The evening passed in icy silence. Igor loudly banged pots in the kitchen, apparently deciding to heat up the soup after all, then turned the TV back on full volume. Katya stayed in the bedroom, not undressing, until exhaustion knocked her out right on the bedspread.
The next day began as if yesterday’s conversation never happened. Igor, as if nothing was wrong, asked her for money “for cigarettes and small expenses,” then collapsed on the couch again. Katya silently gave him some, not wanting to start another scandal, but feeling a boiling rage inside. She went to work, haunted all day by the thought that she was trapped with no way out.
In the evening, when she returned, Igor greeted her with a mysterious smile.
— I called your mom, — he said casually, picking a matchstick from his teeth. — Just chatting, seeing how she’s doing. She was so happy when I told her you’re a good girl, keeping the house, and working tirelessly.
Katya froze in the doorway, feeling her hands grow cold.
— Why did you call her? What did you talk about? — her voice was barely audible.
— Oh, nothing special, — Igor lazily waved his hand. — Just said we had a little… spat over something small. Family troubles happen. She worries about you a lot. Said not to get worked up, family is the most important thing, and that a husband like me is hard to find. So you see, Katyushka, — he stepped close, looking into her eyes with his oily gaze — even your mom understands I’m the best option for you. And you — divorce, divorce… That’s nonsense.
He gently took her chin, forcing her to look at him.
— You don’t want to upset your mom, right? She’s so “happy” for us. Imagine what a blow it would be if she found out her daughter decided to destroy such a “happy” family nest? She wouldn’t survive it. Or she would, but would reproach you for the rest of her life. You want that?
Katya pulled her head back, stepping away. His touch disgusted her. She saw not care but cold, cynical calculation in his eyes. He wasn’t just blackmailing her with her mother, he was methodically breaking her will, cornering her, depriving her of any hope of resistance.
— You… you bastard, Igor, — she exhaled.
— Why so harsh? — he theatrically shrugged. — I just care about our family’s well-being. And your mom’s peace of mind. By the way, she asked me to tell you she’s expecting us for a visit this weekend. You won’t refuse to please her, will you? Especially after you “a little” upset her with your whims, which I, of course, described in the softest terms.
He smiled again with his signature smug smile, confident in his complete and absolute victory. Katya looked at him and understood that this was only the beginning. He wouldn’t stop. He would use her mother as a weapon, as a shield, as a way to keep her under control. And she saw no way out of this vicious circle yet. The cold war in their small apartment, gifted by her parents, was gaining momentum, and Katya felt more and more lonely and helpless in this unequal battle.
The weekend approached like an inevitable disaster. Katya hoped until the last moment that the trip to her mother would be canceled: Igor would get sick, her mother’s plans would change, even a meteorite might fall. But Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny, and Igor, whistling some simple tune, began packing “gifts” early — a bag of cheap candies and a bottle of inexpensive wine, which of course Katya had bought.
— Well, darling, ready for the family rendezvous? — he winked, adjusting his shirt collar in the hallway mirror. That shirt, by the way, Katya also bought on sale, saving every penny. — Mom has probably already started setting the table. Such a woman, gold, not a mother-in-law! You should learn from her how to please a man.
Katya was silent, feeling nausea rising in her throat. On the bus ride, she looked out the window at passing houses and trees, trying not to meet Igor’s gaze or think about what awaited her. But thoughts buzzed like annoying flies. She imagined that “motherly court,” where she would be the accused, and Igor the chief witness and victim.
Anna Sergeyevna met them at the door of her small but always perfectly clean apartment, with a broad, somewhat forced smile. She smelled of vanilla and something else — vaguely homely and warm.
— Katyusha, Igoryochek, finally! Come in, come in, I’m just finishing preparing treats for you!
Igor immediately transformed. From a lazy, smug domestic tyrant, he became pure charm: showering compliments on mother-in-law’s looks, culinary talents, and her “undying youth.” Anna Sergeyevna blossomed from his words like a May rose. Katya felt like a stranger at this feast of hypocrisy.
— Why so gloomy, daughter? — Anna Sergeyevna finally noticed her when they sat at the table laden with dishes. — Didn’t sleep well? Or did Igor offend you? He’s a good guy, cares about you, wouldn’t harm a fly.
— No, mom, it’s fine, — Katya tried to force a smile. — Just a little tired.
— Well, if tired — rest, — Anna Sergeyevna said lecturingly, putting the biggest, tastiest piece of meat on Igor’s plate. — Igor called me the other day, said you’re not taking care of yourself, always working, worrying about trifles. He worries about you like no one else!
Katya threw Igor a short, scorching look. He sat with the most innocent expression, happily devouring the meat, only faint smirks flickered deep in his eyes.
— Mom, Igor didn’t tell you everything, — Katya began, deciding there was nowhere else to retreat. — We didn’t just “argue.” I…
— Oh, what are you starting again, Katyush? — Igor interrupted with fake disappointment in his voice. — We agreed not to upset mom. Well, there was a little misunderstanding, happens to everyone. I apologized.
— Misunderstanding?! — Katya felt her face flush. — You call that a misunderstanding? You blackmail me, threaten me…
— Katya! — Anna Sergeyevna’s voice turned stern. — Stop right now! What are you saying? Igor is your husband! He loves you, cares for you as best he can! And you, instead of appreciating this, make scenes! I know Igor, he’s a decent, responsible man! If he said something in anger, you probably pushed him too far! A woman should be wiser, Katyusha, able to smooth out rough edges, not nag her husband over every little thing!
Her mother’s words hit harder than slaps. She didn’t just disbelieve her; she openly took Igor’s side without even trying to understand the situation.
— Mom, you don’t understand! — Katya almost shouted, tears of hurt welling up. But she held back, not wanting to give Igor such pleasure. — He doesn’t work, lives off me, in the apartment you gave me, and still tells me what to do! And when I said I want a divorce, he threatened that…
— Good for him for threatening! — Anna Sergeyevna cut her off, her face flushed with anger. — Divorce! Are you sane? What reason for divorce? A man should be the head of the family, the wife his support! And you? Always unhappy, always complaining! Igor may not be reaching for the stars at work right now, but he tries, he’s looking! And you only reproach! Any other woman in your place would worship him! He puts up with your character!
Igor sat with his head lowered, pretending deep sorrow and offense.
— Anna Sergeyevna, don’t be like that, — he said in a quiet, trembling voice. — Katya is just tired, I understand. Maybe I really am not as good a husband as she’d like… I’m ready to do anything to save our family.
That was the height of cynicism. Katya looked from her mother to Igor, feeling something inside her snap. Betrayal. Double betrayal. First the husband, who turned out not to be support but a noose around her neck, and now her own mother, blindly believing the con man and ready to trample her own daughter for his fake well-being.
— I see you’ve already made up your minds, — Katya got up from the table. Her voice sounded hollow and distant. — There’s no point in continuing this conversation.
— Where do you think you’re going? — Anna Sergeyevna also stood, her face contorted with outrage. — Sit down! We’re not finished yet! You must apologize to Igor for your behavior!
— Apologize? — Katya bitterly smiled. — For being humiliated and used? Never.
She turned and walked to the door, ignoring her mother’s angry shouts and Igor’s pretended dismayed lamentations as he dramatically tried to “stop” and “reason” with her. She knew this visit was not just an unpleasant episode. It was a point of no return. Her mother had made her choice. And that choice was not in Katya’s favor.
The bus ride back was oppressive silence, thick and viscous like a swamp. Igor tried several times to start a conversation, saying something about mom’s cooking or “women’s excessive emotionality,” but Katya didn’t respond, turning to the window and looking at the blurred landscapes with a sightless gaze. Inside her raged an icy storm, freezing the remnants of former feelings — love, pity, even fear. Only cold, ringing emptiness and firm, granite-like resolve remained. Her mother’s betrayal was the last straw that overflowed her patience and destroyed her last illusions. It couldn’t get worse. So there was nothing left to fear.
Crossing the apartment threshold, Igor seemed to decide that the mother-in-law incident was over, victory was his, and he could return to his usual lifestyle. He threw his jacket on a chair in the hall, walked into the room, and happily stretched out on the couch.
— Well, that’s more like it, — he drawled, clicking the TV remote. — Home is good. And your mom’s certainly understanding. You can tell who’s boss in the house and who’s just furniture. You’d better listen to her advice, Katyushka, she means well. Maybe you’ll whip up some dinner quickly? After that piece of meat I ate, I’m craving some more meat.
Katya slowly entered the room, stopping in the middle. She looked at him, this relaxed, smug man who so cynically and skillfully destroyed her life, using her own mother as his main weapon, and felt a wave of uncontrollable, burning rage rising in her. But when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly calm, even cold.
— Pack your things, Igor.
He didn’t immediately understand, tearing his eyes from the screen with a confused look.
— What what? What things? What are you talking about? Again with this? I told you, mom knows everything, she’s on my side. You want her to come again and give you a proper thrashing? “Try to file for divorce, my dear, I’ll tell my mom everything immediately and you won’t have it easy!” Forgot? Seems like you felt that today yourself.
— I forgot nothing, — Katya smiled, but it was a cruel smile that foretold nothing good. — Especially I haven’t forgotten that this apartment belongs to my parents. Originally — to me. And you’re nobody here. A freeloader. So pack your bags and get out.
Igor sat on the couch, his face slowly turning purple. He had never seen Katya like this before. The usual submissiveness, defeat, fear in her eyes were gone. Instead — steel and contempt.
— How dare you, you scum?! — he growled, jumping to his feet. — Lost your mind completely? I’m calling your mother right now, she’ll set you straight quickly! She’ll curse you for those words!
— Call, — Katya shrugged calmly, though her heart pounded in her throat. — Call, complain. Tell her how her ungrateful daughter is kicking out the “perfect son-in-law.” I don’t care what she says or does. She made her choice today. Now it’s my turn.
He really grabbed the phone, quickly dialed a number. Katya didn’t stop him. She heard snippets of phrases Igor angrily threw into the receiver: “Anna Sergeyevna, your daughter’s gone crazy! She’s kicking me out! Says I’m nobody! You must come immediately, influence her!” Then he handed her the phone.
— Here, she wants to talk to you. Now she’ll explain who you are and where your place is.
Katya took the receiver.
— Mom?
— Katerina! — Anna Sergeyevna’s angry voice rang. — What are you doing?! Have you lost all shame? Kicking Igor, such a man, out on the street! I… I’ll disown you if you don’t apologize to him right now and stop this circus! He’s everything to you, and you… ungrateful!
— Mom, — Katya spoke quietly but firmly, — you’ve said everything today. I heard you. You chose him. And I choose myself. And my life. Without him. And apparently without you. So don’t bother. I won’t change my mind.
She hung up, not listening to another stream of maternal curses and accusations, and handed the phone to Igor. He looked at her stunned, not believing his ears. It seemed only now did it dawn on him that his trump card was beaten.
— You… you sent her away too? — his voice mixed rage and confusion.
— I told her the truth, — Katya replied. — Now pack up. You have half an hour. If your things aren’t gone in half an hour, I’ll just throw them out the window. And you can run and complain to whoever you want. I don’t care.
Igor gasped in rage. His face twisted. He stepped toward her, raising his hand.
— I’ll…
— Just try, — Katya said icily, not moving an inch. — And you’ll be out of here much faster. And believe me, I’ll find a way to make your life very uncomfortable, even without police and courts, as you like. I’ve put up with this too long. Enough.
There was so much cold resolve and naked hatred in her gaze that Igor instinctively backed off. He understood she wasn’t joking. Something in her broke for good, and this new Katya was unknown and truly scary to him. He no longer saw fear in her eyes, only contempt and readiness to go all the way.
He cursed violently, kicked the coffee table, which crashed to the wall. Then, continuing to curse Katya, her mother, “this lousy apartment,” and everything in the world, he started frantically stuffing his things into a sports bag. Katya silently watched, standing by the wall with her arms crossed. Not a muscle twitched on her face.
When he finally gathered his things somehow and headed for the door, he stopped in the doorway and turned around. His face was twisted with rage.
— You’ll regret this, Katya! Bitterly regret! You’ll end up alone, nobody needs you! And your mother won’t forgive you!
— We’ll see, — Katya replied evenly. — Leave. And don’t let your foot cross this threshold again.
He spat on the floor in the hallway one more time, slammed the door so the walls shook, and disappeared. Katya was left alone in the empty apartment. She slowly sank onto the couch — the very one her husband had been lying on just half an hour ago. Silence pressed on her ears. She knew this was not the end. There would be more calls from her mother, perhaps attempts by Igor to get back at her. But the main thing was done. She had broken free from this vicious circle. The price was high — broken relationships with her mother, the final break with her husband. Everyone had parted ways. Forever. But somewhere deep inside, beneath the layers of pain and emptiness, stirred a tiny, barely noticeable feeling — a feeling of freedom. She had made her choice. And let the whole world be against her, she would no longer let anyone trample on her and her life…