If you get married, you will live separately!” declared Nadezhda Nikolaevna, staring intently at her son.
Her words stunned Denis like thunder out of a clear sky. He hadn’t expected such a turn of events. He had always thought that after the wedding, he and Polina would continue living with her mother, maintaining their usual life.
“But, Mom…” he began, trying to object.
“No ‘buts,’ son. It’s time for you to become an independent man,” she cut him off, crossing her arms over her chest. Steel determination shone in her eyes, and the sharp lines of her face emphasized her resolve.
Inside, everything flipped for Denis. Arguing with his mother was pointless: her word was law in their home.
Meanwhile, Polina sat at home on an old couch in the hallway room, rubbing her tired eyes. Taras was crying again, and her sister Veronika was unsuccessfully trying to soothe him. Noise and chaos had become the background of her life.
“Not sleeping again?” she quietly asked her sister.
“He’s a bit nervous today,” Veronika sighed, sitting down on a chair.
“I’ll try to put him to sleep.”
“Thanks, Polya, you’re saving me.”
Polina took her nephew in her arms, rocking him and softly humming a lullaby. But her thoughts were far away. She pondered Denis’s proposal and the possibility that maybe it was time for a change.
The apartment, though spacious by city standards, felt cramped with so many people and belongings. The bright walls didn’t help the oppressive sense of confinement. In every room, the presence of others was felt, and being alone was almost impossible.
Polina had chestnut hair and deep brown eyes that reflected both dreaminess and inner strength. At twenty-three, she had seen a lot and now felt ready for independent life.
“You know, I’m thinking about moving out,” she said unexpectedly while continuing to lull Taras.
“Where will you go?” her sister asked in surprise.
“Denis suggested we live together. I said I’d agree, but only if we get married.”
“And what did he say?”
“He agreed. But I’m not sure if it’s the right thing.”
“Polya, if you feel he’s the one, then why not?” Veronika smiled faintly.
“I’m just scared. What if something goes wrong?”
“Life is unpredictable. Look at me,” her sister spread her hands. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”
Polina nodded thoughtfully, considering her words.
Meanwhile, Denis sat opposite his mother in the kitchen where the kettle hissed quietly.
“We decided to get married,” he said, trying to sound confident.
“Excellent,” Nadezhda Nikolaevna took a cup and poured herself some tea. “That means you’ll live separately.”
“But we thought we could stay with you for a while to save on rent.”
“Denis, grown-ups should live independently,” coldness crept into her voice. “Or do you want to spend your whole life under your mother’s wing?”
Denis had no arguments left. He knew arguing was useless.
“Alright,” he replied quietly, lowering his gaze.
“That’s good. You’ll finally learn to cook for yourself instead of relying on my borscht,” she smirked.
After a modest wedding, Polina and Denis began setting up their life together in a small one-room rented apartment. Denis had just started a new job, and Polina spent long days at university, finishing her last year and working on her thesis. Financially, the newlyweds felt constrained, and any unexpected event could throw them off balance.
“Tell me, why did you keep airing the place? Your husband is sick, and you keep saying ‘the dust settles, it’s hard to breathe.’ You’re making my son breathe in icy wind!” Nadezhda Nikolaevna’s voice, Polina’s mother-in-law, carried even through the closed bedroom door. Sick Denis, lying on her favorite couch, was a motionless witness to her interrogations.
Polina sighed. She had lost count of how many times she had explained the same thing: they lived in a one-room shoebox where the air turned thick and stale in two hours without ventilation. But Nadezhda Nikolaevna seemed to follow the principle: “The more you scold, the more right you have.”
When Polina entered her mother-in-law’s apartment, she was always greeted by a thick, heavy kind of coziness—not the kind that envelops you with soft blankets, but one that sends prickly chills down your spine. It was strange how on curtains with elegant fringes and on a carpet with an oriental pattern such ominous silence could dwell. Everything here seemed to watch you: porcelain cat figurines, a yellowed photo of Denis in a frame decorated with artificial flowers.
Polina herself looked tired but still beautiful. Her hair, gathered in a messy bun, her thin, nervous fingers—like those of a musician who doesn’t compose music. Her face carried a barely noticeable hint of irony, as if she already knew that any explanation to others would be useless.
“Do you realize this yourself? You’re young, aren’t they teaching you anything at the university?” Nadezhda Nikolaevna stood with crossed arms on her pink terry jacket.
“More like you’re correcting me now,” Polina replied without looking at her mother-in-law, focusing on her mug with a chipped cornflower pattern.
“Clever, then,” the mother-in-law smirked and went toward the kitchen.
Polina went back to sleep in their rented apartment. No one here made faces at her, but no one awaited her either. Only a small coat rack creaked quietly under the weight of her coat. The chairs with woven seats looked like cowboy stools, on which no one wanted to sit for more than five minutes.
Every day consisted of running around: university, thesis drafts, and these endless visits to her mother-in-law’s place, where she seemed to be a daughter-in-law only on paper. Polina felt like a second-class guest—in the “poisoned draft” house of Nadezhda Nikolaevna and here, in her rented “corner.” Wherever she went, she was nowhere the “real mistress.”
“Polin,” one evening Denis suddenly called her to his bed when she was already dressing to leave. “I told Mom that you should move back with me. There’s enough space in my room.”
“What?” Polina was surprised, trying to figure out if his fever had risen to delirium.
“Let’s be serious. It looks stupid—you leave every night, one clan bows out, the other stays here. You’re family too. You should be here.”
“And is Nadezhda Nikolaevna okay with that?” she asked somewhat sarcastically, carefully sitting on the edge of a chair.
“Not exactly thrilled, but yes. I convinced her,” Denis coughed, smiling nervously.
Polina froze for a moment. Her own desires tumbled somewhere inside. She loved Denis, of course. But she also loved those rare half-hours when she was alone, even without his care, albeit in their cramped, barely livable rented apartment. Realizing the pause had stretched, she changed the subject:
“This is temporary, right?” Her voice was both distracted and distrustful.
“Yes. Once I get better, we’ll think,” Denis sighed. “You understand, we need time. We’ll sort it out. This is for both of us, not someone’s whim.”
Polina thought. A chain of heavy thoughts arose: “move here,” “listen to mother-in-law,” “admit I don’t have a home.” Temporary arrangements entailed choices intertwined with debts like a web.
“All right,” she replied, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll come tomorrow with my things.”
Polina sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea, listening tensely to her friend Inna. She, relaxedly leaning on the table, leisurely talked about her “methods of maintaining peace” in her mother-in-law’s house.
“I’ll tell you, Polin,” Inna began, stirring tea with a spoon. “A mother-in-law is a person you need to approach wisely. She’s your husband’s mother. So contradicting her—that’s the worst idea. Even if Denis is on your side, deep down he’ll always lean toward his mother’s correctness. So… don’t cut corners. Act subtly.”
Polina nodded thoughtfully, occasionally turning the cup in her hands, thinking about Denis’s offer to live with his mother. She almost refused right away—thinking it impossible to live under one roof with a stranger. But now she listened to her friend, who, despite such circumstances, looked quite content.
“So how did you manage to live together?” Polina asked cautiously. “Everyone says it’s hard to live with a mother-in-law.”
“It’s hard only at first if you lose your head,” Inna smiled and lowered her voice, leaning closer. “When we moved in, I sat down with her immediately and agreed on everything. As they say, ‘on the shore.’ I asked what she wanted from me around the house—but carefully outlined what I would never do. For example, I said right away that I would cook or do laundry only for my husband and myself—that’s my responsibility zone.”
“And she agreed?” Polina exclaimed.
“Where else would she go?” Inna smirked. “The main thing is to speak softly, respectfully… and show that you’re ready to contribute to the household. For example, she asked me to clean one room in the apartment once a week. That’s it—I clean and no problems. And you know what’s the most important? Don’t argue with her over trifles. If you disagree somewhere, keep silent or steer the conversation aside. Your husband will decide what and how later. He’s your helper, don’t forget.”
Polina leaned back in her chair, digesting what she heard. Inna looked so calm, as if this whole mother-in-law story didn’t bother her at all.
“So you just… live now and don’t argue?” Polina asked almost incredulously.
“Why argue? We have everything clear. She has her rules, we have ours. We agreed—she likes that I don’t stress her out, and I like that she doesn’t control us. My husband is only glad,” Inna shrugged with a satisfied smile. “Think about what’s better: renting an apartment and worrying about money or living quietly with your mother-in-law after agreeing on everything?”
Those words struck Polina. She suddenly realized that her doubts were more because of stereotypes than a real unwillingness to move in.
That evening at dinner, Polina talked to Denis. She told him about her conversation with Inna and admitted that if it was possible to agree with her mother-in-law, she was ready to try. Denis listened carefully and said he would talk to his mother.
A couple of days later, the mother-in-law invited the young couple for dinner. Afterward, during tea, they had their first conversation. Peeking from behind round glasses, the mother-in-law spoke firmly:
“Of course, order in the apartment is a shared responsibility. Clean your own room yourselves. In the kitchen—by agreement: you can cook, but clean up after yourselves. As for the rest… Well, I know your rights. The main thing is to listen. Don’t touch my things. Simple.”
Polina patiently listened, nodded, and made mental notes. She was surprised to hear that the mother-in-law did not demand anything strange and was, on the contrary, quite calm. Surprisingly, everything sounded clear and acceptable.
“Well, your offer is accepted,” the mother-in-law said with a smile, looking at Polina. “We will live together. I don’t like quarrels.”
Polina smiled too. She felt more confident thanks to Inna’s advice and decided to act wisely. Denis hugged her, whispering, “Everything will be fine.”
That’s how Polina moved to Denis’s mother’s house. And to her surprise, the mother-in-law soon showed herself to be not the difficult person she had imagined.
Six months flew by unnoticed. Polina looked at her new diploma with a smile—it was finally in her hands after a long study. It was her first tangible achievement, and she decided to celebrate it with a small party. Buying a cake at the nearest store, she returned home, full of joy and inspiration.
“Denis,” Polina exclaimed as soon as she crossed the threshold. “Guess what? I’ve already been invited to work!”
Her eyes shone with pride. She placed the cake on the table and, taking off her coat, added:
“They offered me a salary of sixty thousand; I didn’t even expect that!”
Nadezhda Nikolaevna, who had just entered the kitchen, froze in place. She slowly put a towel on the table and, frowning, asked:
“How did you get such a position immediately? That’s a considerable sum… In our time, they didn’t give that so easily.”
Denis, sitting at the table with a cup of tea, immediately stood up to defend his wife.
“Mom, what kind of questions are those? Polina is talented; what else could she be? She was noticed.”
Polina sighed, understanding what her mother-in-law was implying.
“Nadezhda Nikolaevna, employers came to our university specifically to look for young specialists. They screened each candidate. It wasn’t my decision, nor did I approach anyone personally.”
The mother-in-law shook her head disapprovingly. Her gaze turned cold.
“Oh, how interesting! But I don’t believe these tales. Nothing comes easily. At my work, there was a girl who also started as an intern. Then—five years later—she was deputy director. It turned out she was the boss’s mistress. That’s how it is, darling.”
“Mom, enough with these stories,” Denis said indignantly. “No one here wants to listen to your workplace tales.”
Trying not to fall for provocations, Polina calmly explained:
“I have no idea who our boss is. All tests were written. No one knew my grades except the commission. Everything was honest.”
The scandal subsided, but tension hung in the room. Polina decided not to waste energy on arguments and just sat down to drink tea.
The next morning, Polina got up early to prepare for her first working day. She carefully chose an outfit: a white blouse, a strict skirt, and low-heeled shoes. Putting on earrings, she felt the mother-in-law’s curious gaze standing in the doorway.
Nadezhda Nikolaevna looked Polina up and down and asked without hiding her curiosity:
“Why did you dress like that? What kind of blouse is that? And why so much makeup? Who are you trying to impress?”
Avoiding conflict, Polina smiled calmly.
“Thank you very much for the wishes, Nadezhda Nikolaevna. Today is my first workday.”
She quickly left the room, hurrying to the bus, while the woman remained standing with an irritated face.
When Denis approached the dining table before leaving for work, Nadezhda Nikolaevna took the opportunity to address her son.
“Denis, did you notice how she dressed? She didn’t dress like that before. And now she’s all dolled up as if going on a date? Are you going to do something about it? What kind of fashion is this?”
Denis did not answer. He looked gloomy, silently grabbed his jacket, and began to put on his shoes.
“Denis, I’m talking to you!” his mother added in a dissatisfied tone.
He raised his tired eyes and said dryly:
“Mom, I’m going to work.”
With these words, he closed the door behind him, leaving Nadezhda Nikolaevna puzzled.
Every evening, the same conversation repeated in the apartment. Nadezhda Nikolaevna, like clockwork, launched into monologues about Polina. She would ask why she left for work too early, then complain she stayed out too late. Sometimes comments about her clothes were added. For example, where the daughter-in-law got money for a new blouse, and recently—for a business suit. Polina remained silent, trying not to get involved in conversations, only noticing how these words increasingly affected her husband Denis.
Though he listened to his mother irritably, he more and more began directing her remarks toward his wife. “Why were you late?” he asked, trying to sound calm. “And really, why do you need a new blouse if you managed without it before? Where did the money come from?” It sounded more often, and his eyes held obvious reproach. Polina perfectly understood that the source of his questions was Nadezhda Nikolaevna and felt how it worsened their relationship.
She tried to recall her friend Inna’s words: “A mother-in-law will always remain your husband’s mother. Stay neutral.” Polina tried to hold on. She didn’t answer the always skeptical questions of the mother-in-law with rudeness, remained silent if a conversation could escalate into conflict. But inwardly her patience was melting.
One day, it went too far. Nadezhda Nikolaevna, loudly mocking Polina’s purchases and her new suit again, added mockingly:
“Well, now we definitely know where the money came from! Yes, yes, our Polina is now apparently a ‘big boss.’ She opened her own department,” she emphasized the words as if she didn’t believe it. “But where from? Not my son helped her, and she probably didn’t either. It’s all some grant fairy tale!”
Polina sighed heavily but remained silent. This time it was especially painful. She felt humiliated and underestimated.
But the worst was that late in the evening, Denis sat next to her and in a strange tone asked directly:
“Polin, tell me honestly. Why do you have such a high salary? Did you really achieve this so quickly by yourself?”
She didn’t find words for the first few seconds. Looking at her husband, Polina realized that he had really begun to doubt her honesty. This was not just an attempt to “discuss,” but a sincere uncertainty about her success.
Gathering herself, Polina explained everything she had previously tried to omit in conversations:
“Denis, I did an internship. You know, we had a program to support young specialists. The city administration allocated grants. Thanks to this, I managed to open my tiny department. I have only two people under me, but I squeeze out the maximum every day to justify this trust! Aren’t you worried about how I manage everything? Aren’t you happy for me?”
Denis listened silently. It was hard for him to cope with the fact that his wife, after just a few months in the profession, overtook him in salary and status. He had worked for four years where the salary grew slowly. He was angry at himself, but the feeling of inequality gnawed at him from within.
In the other room, Nadezhda Nikolaevna overheard their conversation and, passing by, didn’t miss the chance to sarcastically say:
“Well, our Polina will outrun everyone with such a career! I knew it, ‘a boss!’”
Polina felt her cheeks flush with indignation but again restrained herself.
Denis, however, could not stand it. He got up from the table and went to the hallway. Polina cursed herself for allowing this conversation and realized that Denis’s resilience under his mother’s pressure was starting to break. Her success, her grant, and her small department turned into a source of discord.
It was an evening Polina had carefully planned, imagining how Denis’s eyes would shine with joy and even Nadezhda Nikolaevna, with all her grumbling speeches, wouldn’t be able to hold back a smile. But in reality, everything turned out differently.
Polina nervously handed the papers to her husband. Denis, frowning, took them and aloud said:
“Oleg and Angela? What is this?” and looked puzzled at his wife.
Before Polina could say anything, Denis’s mother’s voice came from the corner:
“Are you pregnant?” Nadezhda Nikolaevna asked piercingly, as if she had solved an unexpected riddle.
Polina, slightly taken aback by her tone, nodded. She expected joy and congratulations. Her husband was generally pleased: a smile appeared on his face for a moment but disappeared almost immediately as Nadezhda Nikolaevna jumped up from her seat.
“What joy? What are you talking about? What children?!” she loudly exclaimed, pressing her son. “This is my house, and I don’t need any babies here!”
The happy tension in the room instantly changed into a suffocating atmosphere. Polina looked at her mother-in-law in bewilderment. She didn’t expect such a reaction, hoping that Nadezhda Nikolaevna would receive the news of the grandchild with the same joy as her own mother and sister, who immediately began planning and promising help in preparation.
But the mother-in-law continued.
“Denis has just started working! Do you know what kind of new position awaits him? And with this child? Everything will be ruined! There’s no time for children now; we need to think about the future! And you…” she measured Polina with a cold look. “Your career. No one knows how you achieved it, but then what? Stay at home with a baby? Or maybe Denis will drag everything on himself?”
Nadezhda Nikolaevna seemed to choose her words without restraint, adding more and more of a commanding tone. Polina was shocked.
“Are you saying I should…” Polina couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “have an abortion?”
“You should, girl, you should!” the mother-in-law grabbed onto that phrase. “I’m the mistress here, and you won’t have your children in my house! You have no conditions, no money! Get out if you want to have children, but you’ll regret it.”
Polina’s throat tightened. She hoped Denis would stand up for her, that at least he would understand her. She looked at her husband with a silent plea, almost begging him to support her. But Denis only shrugged helplessly.
“Mom is right,” he finally said in an uncertain voice. “Now is not the time to have children. We’re just settling in. Lots of work, and… repairs are needed, furniture to change, appliances for Mom…”
“For Mom?” Polina interrupted. “Denis, what about our family? What about our child? We could rent an apartment and start living separately. We talked about this!”
Denis shrugged.
“You know our home is here. I said the time is not right,” he evasively replied, looking away.
Meanwhile, Nadezhda Nikolaevna continued:
“Oh, rent an apartment? And who will pay for it? Denis works for the family, for his home, for his mother! Don’t like it—please, pack your things and leave. But you must have an abortion. I don’t need someone else’s children.”
The words “someone else’s children” became the last straw for Polina. She couldn’t believe her ears. For Nadezhda Nikolaevna, her own grandchild no longer existed, as if he was some unnecessary burden easily forgotten by simply crossing out this little beginning of a new life.
She looked again at her husband:
“Denis, do you really think so?”
He shrugged and lowered his eyes, mumbling:
“We really need to focus now… Mom is right.”
For Polina, it was a blow to the heart. Words spoken by her beloved person, her inner world. She expected him to be her support, to defend their family’s interests, but instead heard only excuses and the maintenance of his mother’s opinion.
Inside her rose a wave of pain and anger. Her child, flesh of her flesh, life that had only just begun to exist, meant nothing to those who seemed to love and cherish her above all.
Polina slammed the bedroom door and fell face down on the pillow. Hot tears ran down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Nadezhda Nikolaevna’s words echoed in her mind: “I don’t need someone else’s offspring.” Those words cut her to the core like a knife. How could she think that way? How could she hint that the child wasn’t Denis’s? But the worst was the betrayal of her husband. He said not a word, didn’t protect her, didn’t stand up for their family.
Polina clutched the pillow, trying to calm down, but instead grew angrier. At her mother-in-law, who decided their fate for them. At her husband, who behaved like a spineless boy. All this time she tried to be a good wife, supporting him and his mother, sacrificing everything for their family. And now… now she was needed by no one.
After some time, the bedroom door opened slightly. Polina didn’t even turn her head. She immediately knew who it was. Denis entered the room with a gloomy expression.
“Polina,” he began, hesitantly standing by the door. “Can we talk?”
She turned to him, but her gaze was cold.
“About what? About how your mother just humiliated me? Or how you are getting rid of your own child?” Her voice trembled with anger and pain.
Denis sighed heavily and stepped forward.
“Polina, understand, now is not the time for children. We still have a lot of problems: work, no money, nothing. Mom is right—we need to stand on our feet first, then think about the child.”
Polina jumped up from the bed and stared at him in bewilderment:
“Mom is right? Are you serious? She only needs herself! She’s been bossing you around your whole life, and you can’t even say a word to her!”
“Polina,” Denis grimaced as if her voice disturbed him. “You just don’t understand. She wants the best for us. And the child now is… it’s simply inappropriate. You have to understand this. You need to… have an abortion.”
These words sounded like thunder in a clear sky. Polina froze, carefully looking at her husband.
“Do you hear what you just said?” she said, not believing her ears. “You just called your own child ‘inappropriate’! How can you say that? This is our child, our family! Isn’t that the most important thing?”
“Family?” Denis snorted. “Polina, you live in some illusions. We are young; life is ahead. I want to live, travel, earn money for a car, go fishing with friends. And here’s a child. Do you understand this will be the end? Screaming, diapers, sleepless nights. That’s not for me.”
Polina blushed with anger and pain at the same time.
“Denis, then why did you get married at all? Just to sleep in the same bed with me? Is family empty words for you?”
“Polina, stop dramatizing,” he brushed her off. “Mom said it’s right to get rid of the child now. We’re not ready yet, that’s all. And if you don’t like it—you can leave.”
Those words hit her in the face. Polina looked at her husband as if seeing him for the first time.
“Leave?” she stepped toward him, her eyes flashing with tears and hatred. “You’re kicking me out along with our child just because your mother wants it?”
Denis shrugged:
“Well, she’s right. If you want to give birth—you do it alone. I’ll stay here. I don’t need your crying lump,” he said mockingly.
Polina covered her face with her hands, feeling hysterical.
“You… you’re a murderer!” she shouted. “You and your mother. You’re executioners! How can you kill someone who just started living? And if your mother had had an abortion in her time? You wouldn’t be here now saying this nonsense!”
Denis laughed:
“Well, if I hadn’t been born, I wouldn’t know about it. And there’d be no problem, right?”
She looked at him with horror.
“You’re a heartless egoist…”
Polina wanted to say more but couldn’t. Tears choked her, and her chest tightened with pain.
“You know what, Denis,” she whispered with a trembling voice. “You’re so afraid of responsibility that for your freedom you’re ready to destroy your own child. And all because of your mother, who put this nonsense in your head. But one day you’ll understand what you lost. Only it will be too late.”
Denis didn’t answer. Polina sobbed, her world collapsing before her eyes. Her bright dreams of a happy family shattered against her husband’s selfishness and her mother-in-law’s cruelty.
Weeks passed. Polina lived as if in the shadow of her own home. She avoided Denis’s gaze; the mother-in-law tried not to meet her at all, spending most of her time in her room. All communication with her husband boiled down to a few dry phrases only when absolutely necessary. Denis tried to start conversations, but Polina silently turned away.
One morning, when Polina was about to leave the house, Nadezhda Nikolaevna stopped her. She stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, studying Polina carefully.
“Well,” the mother-in-law began coldly, “did you finally go to the clinic?”
Polina froze sharply but kept her face calm. She took a deep breath and nodded:
“Yes, I went.”
Nadezhda Nikolaevna visibly relaxed and seemed almost proud of herself. She exhaled with relief, as if she had shed some heavy burden.
“You did the right thing, girl,” she said with evident satisfaction. “Now you won’t ruin life for yourself or Denis. Good job. An adult choice,” she paused theatrically, then added, “I knew this child problem was solvable.”
Polina, who had been watching her expressively but silently all this time, suddenly pressed her palms to her stomach as if protecting it.
“A ‘problem,’ you say?” she said in an icy voice.
Nadezhda Nikolaevna frowned, but Polina didn’t let her speak:
“You’re wrong, Nadezhda Nikolaevna. I went to the clinic because I’m going to have a daughter.”
Those words fell on the mother-in-law like a stone. Her face contorted with shock, her eyes flashing with indignation. For a few seconds, she stood silently, then surely exploded:
“What?! Are you crazy?” she shouted. “Are you really going to have this shameless child? In our house? Don’t you understand what a disgrace this is?”
Denis, hearing the raised voices, ran into the room. He glanced at his mother, then at his wife.
“Polya, let’s not quarrel. Let’s talk,” he gently reached out to hug his wife. “You made your choice; I’m not happy, but…”
But Polina sharply pushed him away.
“Don’t touch me!” Her voice rang with rage. “I didn’t decide this because of you but despite you and your opinion!”
“You… you just said you were at the clinic…” Denis tried to say something but was clearly confused.
“Yes, I was to make sure the pregnancy is going well,” she replied harshly. “I’m going to have a daughter.”
Nadezhda Nikolaevna turned pale, clutching her chest as if trying to digest what she heard.
“You’ve lost your mind!” she shouted. “You dare to ruin our life with this freak! Get out of my house! Right now!”
Polina silently turned and began packing her things. She was calm; her movements were clear and measured.
“Polina, wait!” Denis rushed after her. “You’re making a big mistake leaving! You’re destroying our whole family!”
Polina held his gaze; her voice was cold and full of contempt:
“Family? Denis, you call us a family? You have a mother; her word is law for you. And I was only a ‘convenient’ person while everything went according to your plan. You’re a nobody. A spineless person living under your mother’s dictation.”
Denis froze, as if trying to find something to respond but found no way out.
At that moment, Nadezhda Nikolaevna returned. She was crimson with rage, staring daggers at Polina.
“You only know how to spread your legs,” she hissed spitefully. “No wonder you’re advancing so successfully in your career. Now everything is clear. Oh, you vile slut!”
Polina turned to her mother-in-law, her face flushed and her eyes flashing lightning.
“How dare you judge me?” she barely restrained herself from shouting. “If you behaved like that in your time, it doesn’t mean everyone else is so low. You simply can’t bear the thought that people can achieve something by honest work.”
Nadezhda Nikolaevna flared up even more, ready to retaliate, but Polina shifted her calm gaze to Denis.
“Don’t expect apologies,” she said firmly. “I’m filing for divorce. And know this: you will pay alimony no matter what. I count on myself, but your daughter needs support no matter how terrible a father you are.”
Having said this, Polina put on her coat, picked up her bags, and went to the door.
Nadezhda Nikolaevna shouted after her:
“Get out! Get lost from my life, you and your bastard!”
Polina didn’t even look back. Now her future belonged only to her and her daughter.
After Polina packed and left the house, she cut all ties with her former family. Immediately after leaving, she blocked Denis’s and his mother’s phone numbers to avoid their pressure and threats. She decided to start a new life, focusing on her pregnancy.
Time passed. Polina successfully gave birth to a girl she named Angela. The young mother felt that this name was perfect for her daughter—bright, gentle, and strong, just as she now saw herself.
Meanwhile, Denis tried to find Polina. He called her phone, sent messages, but all was in vain—Polina ignored his attempts. Once, he was lucky to meet Veronika, Polina’s older sister, right near the store. She was holding bags of baby supplies.
“Veronika, wait!” Denis stopped her.
The sister-in-law looked at him in surprise but didn’t try to hide irritation.
“What do you want?” she asked dryly.
“Tell me, where is Polina?” the former brother-in-law blurted out without preamble, trying to look into her eyes. “How is she? Is everything okay?”
Veronika squinted, clearly considering whether to say anything.
“She’s fine,” she answered after a pause. “She gave birth. A girl. Angela. And don’t worry, they’re both healthy and happy.”
Those words overwhelmed Denis. His face twisted with a mixture of surprise and inner disappointment. Even after months of separation, he still hoped Polina had listened to him and had an abortion.
“B-birth?” he managed to say.
Veronika smirked, shifting the bags more comfortably.
“Yes. And you know, it was the best thing she could do. Now let her live her life, and you live yours.”
With that, Veronika turned and left, leaving Denis standing stunned in the middle of the street.
Returning home, he told his mother what he had learned. Nadezhda Nikolaevna listened attentively but coldly, her face remained expressionless.
“Mom, you’ve become a grandmother,” Denis quietly summed up, hoping it would touch her heartstrings.
Her answer was as icy as always:
“I don’t care. I don’t recognize her as my granddaughter. Let your Polina live her life far away from us. And remember: their feet won’t be in my house.”
She paused, looked sharply at her son, and added:
“And never dare bring them here. I am the mistress of this house. And if you dare go against me—you can leave just like she did.”
Denis was silent. He understood how stubborn she was. He lacked the courage to argue or challenge her ways.
A few more days passed. Nadezhda Nikolaevna went about her usual business when suddenly her phone beeped with a new message. Opening it, she saw an attachment: a photograph.
On the screen was a picture of a small child, a girl with big clear eyes and a warm smile. The caption read: “Angela. Your granddaughter.” The message was sent from an unknown number, but Nadezhda Nikolaevna immediately understood it was Polina.
Her face instantly went pale. She stared at the image for several seconds, then completely lost control and shouted so loudly that her voice echoed throughout the house.
“How dare she?! How dare that girl send me this!” she screamed furiously, almost throwing the phone to the floor.
Denis appeared in the doorway, looking confused at his mother.
“Get rid of that,” ordered Nadezhda Nikolaevna. Her hands trembled, but she maintained an icy expression. “So that neither you, nor that trash, nor that… child ever appears in my life again!”
However, despite her anger, her gaze furtively returned several more times to the phone and the photograph, which, no matter how she twisted it, showed her granddaughter. Angela looked at her with clear eyes from the phone screen.
Time passed.
Denis stood in front of Polina’s apartment door. He hesitated for a long time before pressing the buzzer but finally forced himself to raise his hand. Through the closed door, soft footsteps were heard, then it opened. Polina stood on the threshold. She looked tired but focused, holding herself confidently.
“What do you want?” she asked coldly, looking at Denis as if he were a complete stranger.
Denis faltered, not knowing how to start.
“I… I want to see Angela,” he finally said, avoiding her gaze.
Polina squinted, a contemptuous smile appeared on her face.
“Go away,” she said firmly, preparing to slam the door, but Denis grabbed her hand.
“Polina, wait!” he pleaded. “I know I was wrong. I realize my mistake… And I… I want to make it right. I want to be a good father to my daughter.”
Polina snorted, pulled her hand away, and folded her arms.
“Make it right? Too late, Denis. Your time is over. What do you really want? I don’t believe you. Speak plainly.”
Denis nervously fidgeted, his gaze darting around the apartment behind her, as if seeking support. Finally, he exhaled:
“My mother had a stroke. She’s paralyzed. She… she can’t take care of herself now. I… I just can’t cope…”
Polina immediately tensed; her gaze became even colder, like steel.
“So that’s why you came,” she said slowly. “You want me to become a caregiver for the one who demanded the LIFE OF MY GIRL. For the woman who threw me and my unborn child out of the house?”
Denis lowered his eyes; under her sharp gaze, he felt like a guilty boy.
“That’s not true…” he began, but Polina didn’t let him finish.
“Forget it, don’t even hope,” she said firmly. “You said grandma for Angela is your mother? No. She has only one grandmother, Denis. That’s my mother, Olga Valeryevna, who supported me, and you betrayed her.”
Denis looked confused and bewildered. He tried again:
“Polina, please…”
Her response was a decisive look and the sound of the door closing.
Polina stood in the hallway for several seconds, trying to calm down. She took a deep breath, pushing away memories of pain and betrayal, and returned inside the apartment. In the room, little Angela was already awake.
Hearing her mother’s footsteps, the girl lay in her crib, quietly babbling, raising tiny hands to her face. Polina approached, gently picked up her daughter.
“Well, my little angel? Hungry?” she said tenderly and sat down by the window to breastfeed her.
Angela eagerly latched onto her mother, then broke away to give her a sweet baby smile. Polina couldn’t help but smile back.
“There she is—my love, my family,” Polina thought, holding her child close. Everything else no longer mattered to her.