Irina set her bag down in the hallway and wearily took off her shoes. Another long day at the office was behind her—client negotiations, reports, planning meetings. The thirty-two-year-old woman wanted only one thing: to take a bath and have a quiet dinner with her husband.
“You’re late again!” Alexei’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour!”
Irina sighed. Her husband used to meet her with a smile, ask about work, help her take off her coat. Now every return home turned into an interrogation.
“Hi, Lyosha,” Irina answered peaceably as she walked into the kitchen. “I got held up a bit; the client decided at the last moment to change the contract terms.”
Alexei stood at the table with a displeased expression.
“You always have some excuse! Either a client, or a report, or some sudden meeting!”
Irina quietly began making dinner, trying not to react to the nagging. There was a time when her husband was proud of her successes, praised her for her determination. Now every minute of tardiness became a pretext for a scene.
“And what kind of job is it where people sit until nine at night?” Alexei went on. “Normal women are home by seven!”
“I earn money,” Irina replied calmly, slicing vegetables for a salad. “My department brings the company a solid profit.”
“Money, money!” her husband sneered. “And who’s going to keep the house? Who’s going to cook dinner?”
Irina felt the familiar irritation. They had been living together for four years, but in recent months her husband seemed to have turned into a different person. The caring, attentive Alexei had vanished, giving way to a fault-finding, controlling man.
“By the way,” Alexei added, pulling a beer from the fridge, “Mom’s coming tomorrow morning. She wants to talk to you.”
Irina’s heart skipped. Sixty-year-old Lyudmila Ivanovna, her mother-in-law, had always treated her coolly. The woman believed a wife should devote herself entirely to home and husband, and that a career was a youthful whim.
“Talk about what?” Irina asked cautiously.
“You’ll see,” Alexei muttered, popping the bottle open.
Irina kept cooking, feeling the tension rising. Each day brought new nitpicking from her husband, new attempts at control. She was beginning to understand—the marriage was slowly turning into a prison.
“And another thing,” Alexei wouldn’t let up, “our neighbor, Marina Petrovna, said she saw you by the shopping center yesterday during your lunch break. What were you doing there?”
“I met a friend,” Irina answered, barely keeping her anger in check. “Or does that require your permission now too?”
“Don’t get smart with me!” her husband barked. “Normal wives tell their husbands their plans!”
Something snapped inside Irina. She dropped the spatula into the frying pan and turned off the stove.
“You know what, Alexei? I’m tired!” she said, heading for the kitchen door.
“Where are you going?” her husband asked in surprise. “What about dinner?”
“Cook it yourself if you’re hungry! I’m fed up to the teeth with your reproaches,” Irina snorted, disappearing into the bedroom.
For the first time in a long while, she felt relief. Enough of putting up with humiliation and constant control. It was time to set boundaries.
In the morning Irina woke up alone in bed. When she went into the kitchen, she found Alexei and Lyudmila Ivanovna at the table. Her mother-in-law was drinking tea with cookies and looking at her daughter-in-law disapprovingly.
“Good morning,” Irina greeted them coolly.
“Good morning to you,” Lyudmila Ivanovna nodded. “Sit down, we need to talk.”
Irina poured herself coffee and sat down, anticipating an unpleasant conversation.
“Alyosha told me about what happened yesterday,” her mother-in-law began. “I see you still haven’t become a real wife. Good women stay home and take care of their husbands, not run around who-knows-where until all hours.”
“Lyudmila Ivanovna, I work and I earn money,” Irina shot back. “I don’t sit at home doing nothing.”
“Money!” her mother-in-law sniffed contemptuously. “And is family not important? The home, coziness, taking care of your husband? Can’t you see how Alyosha is suffering!”
Alexei sat silently, nodding along with his mother. Irina realized—a union of husband and mother-in-law against her had already formed.
“My home is in order,” Irina replied coldly. “And I’m not making my husband suffer.”
“You’re not?” Lyudmila Ivanovna protested. “You work late every day and come home whenever you feel like it! That’s not a wife; that’s some kind of boarder!”
The atmosphere in the apartment instantly turned cold and tense. Irina understood that from now on every step would be under scrutiny and judgment.
The following weeks turned into a real nightmare. Alexei monitored his wife’s every return home. Being two minutes late became grounds for a half-hour tirade. Irina felt she was losing her freedom in her own apartment.
“Where were you until eight?” her husband would greet her every evening. “The workday ends at six!”
“I stayed late finishing a report,” Irina said, taking off her coat.
“Always with the reports!” Alexei fumed. “Other women manage to work and keep a home!”
Lyudmila Ivanovna became a frequent visitor. Once a week she came over and delivered lectures about a daughter-in-law’s family duties. She evaluated the apartment’s cleanliness, the contents of the fridge, Irina’s appearance.
“I see you’re buying convenience foods again,” she clicked her tongue. “A real homemaker makes her own cutlets!”
“I don’t have time to stand by the stove for three hours,” Irina replied.
“That’s the problem!” her mother-in-law declared triumphantly. “Career is more important than family!”
Gradually Irina began to feel like a stranger in her own home. Every move was monitored, every decision criticized. She knew it couldn’t go on like this.
In mid-October, her company announced a corporate party to celebrate its anniversary. Irina decided to talk to her husband about attending together. Maybe that would help smooth things over?
“Lyosha, we have a company party on Saturday,” Irina said over dinner.
Alexei looked up from his plate with a scowl.
“Oh, please! Married women have no business at those gatherings!”
“Why not?” Irina was surprised. “It’s a work event; everyone will be there with their families. Do you want to come with me? You can meet my colleagues; we’ll relax together.”
“You’re not going, and that’s final!” her husband declared. “Normal wives spend their evenings at home, not traipsing around for fun!”
Irina felt a surge of anger. He was forbidding her to attend a corporate party? That was too much.
“Alexei, it’s my workplace, my colleagues,” she said firmly. “I’m going to the party.”
“Just try it!” he boiled over. “You’ll see what happens!”
But Irina had already made up her mind. Principle mattered more than consequences. She needed to show her husband she wasn’t going to turn into a shut-in housewife.
On Saturday, Irina put on a beautiful dress and went to the party alone. The restaurant was decorated with balloons, music was playing, colleagues were having fun and dancing. For the first time in a long time, she felt light and free.
“Irina, we’re so glad you came!” her colleagues exclaimed. “Where’s your husband?”
“He couldn’t make it,” Irina answered evasively, not wanting to air her family problems.
The evening flew by. Irina danced, talked with colleagues, took part in contests. After weeks of constant pressure at home, such freedom felt priceless. She stayed until midnight, immersed in the festive atmosphere.
When she got home, she quietly slipped off her shoes in the hallway. The lights were on—Alexei was still awake. He sat on the couch with a dark expression.
“Had your fun?” he snapped as soon as she walked into the living room.
“Yes, I did,” Irina replied evenly, taking off her coat.
Alexei got up and stepped right up to her.
“Good, now pack up! By tomorrow I want the keys on the table!” he ordered.
Irina froze, unable to believe what she’d heard. Alexei was threatening to throw her out of her own apartment?
“What did you say?” she asked quietly.
“You heard me!” he barked. “I’m sick of your willfulness! If you can’t be a wife, get out of here!”
A wave of indignation rose inside Irina. The man she had lived with for four years was trying to drive her out for attending a work event?
“Alexei, I bought this apartment with my money before we got married!” Irina said firmly. “You have no right to kick me out!”
“What do you mean I don’t?” her husband flushed. “I’m the master here!”
“The master?” Irina laughed bitterly. “By what right exactly?”
“By the right of a husband!” Alexei shouted. “A wife should obey! Consider this your punishment!”
A huge row erupted. Alexei yelled about disobedience and disrespect; Irina shouted back that she refused to live under constant control. The neighbors pounded on the wall demanding quiet, but the couple paid no attention.
“You’ve turned our home into a prison!” Irina cried. “You monitor my every step and forbid me to talk to my colleagues!”
“And you’ve turned into God-knows-what!” he roared. “You don’t care about home or family!”
The quarrel lasted late into the night. In the end Irina slept in the living room, while Alexei locked himself in the bedroom. She felt a strange relief—at last everything hidden had come to light.
In the morning Irina woke to sounds in the hallway. Coming out of the living room, she found two suitcases with her things by the front door. Alexei stood next to them, face grim.
“I packed your things,” he said dryly. “You can take them and go.”
“Seriously?” Irina looked at the suitcases, then at her husband. “You’re throwing me out of my own apartment?”
“Yours?” Alexei smirked. “We’re married; everything’s shared!”
“Not everything,” Irina answered coolly. “This apartment was in my name before the wedding. And I never signed any papers transferring it.”
Her husband faltered—he had clearly counted on her being scared and giving in. But Irina was resolute.
“Take them back,” she said, lifting one of the suitcases. “After court, you’ll be the one moving out, not me!”
“What?” Alexei was taken aback. “What court?”
“I’m filing for divorce and division of property. Then we’ll see what belongs to whom,” Irina said calmly. “You know perfectly well this is no way to live.”
Enraged, he stormed off to his mother’s.
That very day Irina consulted a lawyer. The specialist carefully reviewed the documents and assured her—the apartment was indeed her premarital property, but all purchases made during the marriage would be subject to division.
“Do you have receipts for the furniture and appliances?” the lawyer asked.
“Most purchases were made with my salary,” Irina replied. “I kept the receipts and bank statements.”
“Excellent. Your husband doesn’t have a chance.”
The suit was filed a week later. Alexei was stunned by his wife’s resolve—he had clearly assumed Irina would be frightened and revert to the old terms.
Lyudmila Ivanovna started calling her former daughter-in-law every day.
“Irina, what are you doing?” she wailed. “You’re destroying the family over trifles!”
“There are no trifles here, Lyudmila Ivanovna,” Irina replied evenly. “Your son decided he could dictate the terms of my life.”
“That’s how it should be!” the mother-in-law fumed. “A husband is the head of the family!”
“The head of the family has no right to turn his wife into a maid,” Irina retorted.
“You’re flighty and unworthy!” Lyudmila Ivanovna shouted. “He’s just trying to set you straight! What division of property—what are you thinking?”
“I’m entitled to the entire apartment, but since he’s so stubborn, everything will be done by law,” Irina replied calmly. “And the court will confirm that.”
The court proceedings lasted a month. Irina lived in her apartment, went to work every day, and restored her peace of mind. Gradually she realized—divorce had been inevitable; the relationship had hit a dead end.
When Alexei calmed down, he grasped the mess he’d made. He stayed with his mother, tried to apply pressure through mutual acquaintances, asked for forgiveness, promised to change. But Irina no longer believed words—too much had been said in anger, too many boundaries crossed.
The court ruled in Irina’s favor. The man had to move out within a week; his property there amounted to the TV, the laptop, the bed, and compensation for renovations in the amount of two hundred thousand.
“This can’t be!” Alexei shouted on the courthouse steps. “After so many years of marriage, I ended up with nothing!”
“Everyone gets what they deserve,” Irina answered calmly. “And the court confirmed it.”
After her ex-husband finally moved back in with his mother, Irina changed the locks, tidied the place, and threw out everything unnecessary. She sat on the sofa with a cup of tea, admiring the documents, proud of herself. No one controlled the time she came home, no one criticized her every decision.
Lyudmila Ivanovna tried several more times to contact her former daughter-in-law.
“Irina, come to your senses!” the older woman pleaded. “Alyosha is suffering without you!”
“Let him suffer,” Irina replied indifferently. “That’s his choice.”
“You destroyed the family!” the elderly woman accused.
“I saved myself,” Irina answered calmly.
Gradually the calls stopped. Irina plunged into a new life—work, hobbies, meeting friends. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly free.
At work her colleagues noticed the change.
“Irina, you’re glowing from within!” they said. “Divorce did you good!”
She only smiled in response. Indeed, breaking up with a controlling husband had freed up a tremendous amount of energy. Irina started doing yoga and planned a vacation in Europe.
Six months after the divorce, Irina ran into Alexei at a café. Her ex-husband looked tired.
“Ira,” he greeted her uncertainly. “How are you?”
“Fine,” Irina replied curtly.
“Listen,” Alexei hesitated, “maybe we could try again? I realize my mistakes…”
“No, Alexei,” she answered gently but firmly. “Everything has its limit. You crossed it when you tried to throw me out of my own apartment.”
The man lowered his head, realizing there was no chance of going back.
Irina left the café with a light heart. The past had finally let go, and limitless possibilities lay ahead. She walked down the street, savoring the freedom to choose—where to go, what to do, whom to see.
That evening, sitting in her cozy apartment, Irina reflected on the path she had taken. Four years of marriage had not been in vain—they taught her to value her independence and protect her personal boundaries. No one would ever gain power over her life again.
Her phone rang—it was a friend inviting her to the theater.
“Of course!” Irina replied happily. “What time?”
“At seven,” her friend said.
“Perfect, I’ll be ready!”
Irina hung up and smiled. Now she decided for herself when and where to go. And it was the best feeling in the world.