Lena gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying not to pay attention to the grumbling from the passenger seat. Galina Petrovna, her mother-in-law, had been in a bad mood since morning.
“Again you took this bumpy road!” the old woman grimaced, staring out the window. “As if there aren’t other routes!”
“Mom, it’s shorter this way,” Lena replied quietly, holding back her irritation.
“Shorter? You’re just saving gas! I’m being shaken like I’m on a wagon! Do you even think about my health?”
Lena clenched her teeth. Every trip to the hospital turned into torture. Galina Petrovna had never been sweet, but in recent years her character had become simply unbearable.
“Sorry,” Lena muttered, though she didn’t understand what she was apologizing for.
“What? You can’t even apologize properly!” her mother-in-law snorted. “My Igor at least grew up well-mannered, but your parents, looks like, didn’t teach you anything.”
Lena hit the brakes hard at a red light. From the sudden stop, Galina Petrovna nearly smacked her forehead on the dashboard.
“What, you don’t know how to drive at all?!”
“Traffic light,” Lena threw back through clenched teeth.
“Oh, a traffic light!” the old woman mimicked her. “Other people have normal people, and my daughter-in-law can’t even drive a car properly.”
Lena closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. She imagined opening the door and just walking away. But instead, she pulled back onto the road.
Twenty minutes later they finally reached the hospital. Lena got out, walked around the car, and opened the door for her mother-in-law.
“Give me your hand, Mom, I’ll help you out.”
“I can do it myself!” she snapped, but immediately swayed, grabbing the door frame.
Lena silently offered her shoulder. Grumbling something under her breath, Galina Petrovna leaned on her.
“You could’ve worn a different dress,” her mother-in-law suddenly said, sizing Lena up. “In that, you look like a woman on a teapot.”
Lena said nothing. She was used to it.
“Fine, lead me, since you’ve started,” Galina Petrovna sighed.
They walked slowly toward the entrance. Lena thought about how, in an hour, she’d be listening to endless complaints in the car again. About how Igor, as always, would brush it off: “She’s old—just endure it.”
But today something inside her tightened especially hard.
“How much longer can I endure?”
She didn’t know that soon her patience would finally run out.
Lena closed the front door and leaned her back against it, shutting her eyes. Three hours at the hospital with Galina Petrovna had drained her more than an entire day at work. The hallway smelled of borscht—she’d put it on to simmer in the morning so dinner would be ready when her husband got home.
Footsteps came from the kitchen. Igor peered into the hallway, chewing a sandwich.
“So, how was the trip?” he asked, looking at his wife. “How’s Mom?”
Lena silently took off her coat and hung it neatly on the rack. Every time it was the same. He never asked, “How are you feeling?” Only about his mother.
“Everything’s fine,” she replied through clenched teeth. “They took tests—next week we’ll come back for the results.”
She went into the kitchen and checked the borscht. The pot was on the very lowest heat, just as she’d left it. Igor followed her.
“Why are you so sour?” he frowned. “Did Mom get on your nerves again?”
Lena spun around sharply, gripping the ladle.
“‘Again’?” her voice trembled. “Igor, it’s every time! Every trip! I’m her driver, her caregiver, and her punching bag! She doesn’t respect me at all!”
Igor sighed and took a sip of tea from his mug.
“Why are you starting up again? She’s an elderly person, sick. Can’t you just put up with it?”
“Put up with it?” Lena laughed, but there was no joy in her laugh. “For three years I’ve been ‘putting up with it’! For three years she’s been dumping filth on me, and you pretend nothing is happening!”
She walked to the table and slammed the ladle down so hard borscht splashed onto the tablecloth.
“Len, enough hysterics,” Igor pushed his mug away. “Mom just has a strong personality—she doesn’t mean it. And anyway, you know she raised me alone—Dad left us. I can’t abandon her now.”
Lena clenched her fists. She’d heard that argument hundreds of times.
“Am I asking you to abandon her? I just want you—just once—to take my side! Just once to tell her, ‘Mom, stop talking to my wife like that!’”
Igor stood up, his face reddening.
“Do you even understand what you’re asking? She’s old! Her blood pressure, her heart! You want me to push her into the grave with my reproaches?”
Lena felt a lump rise in her throat. She turned away so her husband wouldn’t see the tears.
“I can’t anymore,” she whispered. “I really can’t.”
Igor came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Enough, okay?” his voice softened. “Let’s just have dinner calmly. Tomorrow I’ll take Mom to the hospital myself, okay?”
Lena nodded slowly, but inside everything screamed. She knew it—tomorrow morning he’d “forget,” or “something urgent would come up,” or he’d find some other excuse. Like always.
She poured borscht into bowls and sat at the table. Igor was already smiling, telling her something about work—as if nothing had happened. As if her feelings were just a whim, a childish offense that would fade on its own.
Lena poked at her bowl with her spoon, pretending to eat. Today she understood the main thing—there would be no help coming. If you want respect, you have to start respecting yourself.
But for now she just stayed silent and ate the cooling borscht.
Sunday morning began with a phone call. Lena, not fully awake, reached for her cellphone on the nightstand, but the screen stayed dark. The ringing was coming from the kitchen—it was the landline, which almost no one used.
“Who’s so impatient at seven in the morning?” she grumbled, throwing on her robe.
Igor kept snoring without moving. Lena went down to the kitchen and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Oh, finally!” came a familiar voice. “Lena, it’s Olga. We’ll be at your place in an hour.”
Lena froze, squeezing the receiver. Igor’s sister always announced her visits at the last moment, as if on purpose.
“Today isn’t very convenient…” Lena began.
“We need to pass Mom her medicine,” Olga cut her off. “Igor knows.”
The receiver clicked dead before Lena could say anything. She stood in the middle of the kitchen staring at the phone, as if it could explain why her mother-in-law and daughter acted like this home belonged to them.
Forty minutes later, while Lena hurriedly tidied the living room, the doorbell rang. She took a deep breath, fixed her hair, and opened the door.
“Well, finally!” Olga marched into the hallway without greeting, dragging a huge bag behind her. “Where’s Igor?”
Galina Petrovna stood on the threshold, waiting for Lena to offer her a hand.
“Good morning, Mom,” Lena automatically reached out, helping her mother-in-law step over the threshold.
“Morning’s so-so,” she grunted, scanning the entryway. “Dust hasn’t been wiped again.”
Olga was already heading to the kitchen, loudly calling for her brother. Lena closed the door and followed them, feeling irritation boil in her chest.
“Igor’s still asleep,” Lena said as she entered the kitchen.
“On a Sunday?” Olga snorted. “Lazybones.”
She opened the refrigerator and began rearranging food containers she’d brought.
“Should I make coffee?” Lena asked, trying to stay calm.
“You know Mom only drinks it with cinnamon,” Olga tossed over her shoulder.
Lena silently took the coffee pot. At that moment Igor came into the kitchen, yawning.
“Oh, sis! Mom!” he smiled, stretching. “Why so early?”
“We brought you the medicine,” Olga said. “And food, since you’ve got, as usual, nothing here.”
Lena spun around sharply.
“We have everything, Olya. Yesterday I специально—”
“Lena, don’t boil over,” Igor cut in, sitting at the table. “My sister’s just being caring.”
Meanwhile Galina Petrovna settled on the most comfortable chair and inspected the kitchen carefully.
“Lena, where’s my favorite mug?” she asked.
“It broke, Mom, remember? Last time you were here.”
“Oh right,” her mother-in-law shook her head. “You break everything I have.”
Lena clenched her teeth as she poured boiling water into the cezve. At that moment Olga leaned toward her brother and began whispering in his ear, shooting sideways looks at Lena.
“…she doesn’t appreciate you at all,” Lena caught a fragment.
The pot in her hand trembled. She set it on the stove with a clang that made everyone flinch.
“Everything okay?” Olga frowned.
“Everything’s wonderful,” Lena turned to them, folding her arms across her chest. “Maybe you’ll say out loud what you think of me? Whispering is… inconvenient.”
Silence fell. Igor shifted uneasily on his chair.
“Lena, stop it,” he said.
“What’s the big deal?” Olga spread her hands. “I just told my brother Mom needs new medicine. What, are you paranoid?”
Galina Petrovna shook her head.
“Always on edge. Bet she’s on those diets again.”
Lena felt a hot wave rise from her neck to her face. She couldn’t take it anymore.
“You know what,” her voice shook, “I… I’m going for a walk.”
She yanked her robe off the hook and went outside without even getting properly dressed. Behind her, Olga’s indignant voice rang out:
“What a temper! You see that, Igor? You see how she talks to us?”
The door slammed, muffling the rest. Lena walked down the street, shaking from cold and rage. In her head it beat like a drum: “Enough. Enough. Enough.”
She didn’t know then that this walk would be the last straw before everything changed forever.
Lena wandered through the park for over an hour. The autumn wind cut through her thin robe, but she barely felt the cold. Inside, everything burned. Every word, every look, every hint from the past years surfaced in her memory with frightening clarity.
She stopped by the pond, staring at the gray water. In her robe pocket her phone buzzed—Igor had called for the fifth time. Lena turned the sound off and inhaled deeply. Time to go back. Time to say what had been building for years.
When Lena opened the apartment door, the living room was unnaturally quiet. Olga and Galina Petrovna sat on the couch; Igor stood by the window, nervously tapping his fingers on the sill.
“Well, finally!” Olga broke the silence first. “We already thought you’d be sleeping on the street.”
Lena slowly took off her wet slippers, not answering. She felt all three watching her every move.
“Len, where have you been?” Igor stepped forward. “We were worried.”
“Worried?” Lena gave a quiet laugh. “That’s a new word in your vocabulary.”
Galina Petrovna snorted.
“There she goes with hysterics again. Igor, tell her already!”
Lena lifted her head.
“Tell me what, Igor? Come on—I’m all attention.”
Igor ran a hand over his face.
“Mom thinks… I mean, we all think… you should see a psychologist. You’ve become kind of… nervous.”
A heavy pause hung in the room. Lena felt something inside her finally snap.
“I’m nervous?” her voice sounded unnaturally calm. “Let me tell you who’s nervous here.”
She took a step toward the couch, looking straight into her mother-in-law’s eyes.
“Three years. For three years I’ve put up with your humiliation, Galina Petrovna. For three years you’ve poured filth on me, and your son pretended nothing was happening.”
Igor tried to interfere.
“Lena, stop!”
“No—you stop!” For the first time in years Lena raised her voice at him. “I stayed quiet too long. Today you’ll hear everything.”
She turned to Olga.
“And you… you’re the worst. Whispering behind my back, spreading rumors, stirring things up. Do you enjoy lighting this circus on fire?”
Olga jumped up from the couch.
“How dare you! Igor, are you hearing this?!”
But Lena couldn’t stop anymore.
“From today on I’m done driving your mother to hospitals! Enough! I won’t be the caregiver, the driver, and the punching bag anymore! If you want to help—help yourselves!”
Galina Petrovna went pale.
“Have you lost your mind?! Who’s going to drive me now? You don’t have a job or money!”
“Mom, enough!” Igor suddenly barked—unexpectedly. But it was too late.
Lena stood in the middle of the living room, trembling with emotions she’d held back for years. For the first time in all that time she felt free.
“No—it’s all of you who’ve lost your minds,” she said quietly. “You thought I’d endure this forever? Your free service is over.”
She turned and walked into the bedroom, leaving behind shocked silence. A moment later her mother-in-law’s outraged voice rang out:
“Igor! Take measures immediately! She’s forgotten who’s the boss in this house!”
But Lena had already shut the bedroom door and turned on the water in the bathroom so she wouldn’t hear them. In the mirror stood a different woman—hard-eyed, lips pressed tight. For the first time in many years she felt like herself.
Lena woke to loud pounding on the door. Sunlight barely seeped through the curtains—it wasn’t even seven. She reached for her phone: three missed calls from Igor, who, judging by the sounds from the kitchen, was already up.
The pounding came again, more insistent. Lena threw on her robe and stepped into the hall, running into Igor. His face was pale, dark circles under his eyes. He clearly hadn’t slept either.
“It’s Olga,” he whispered. “Don’t open.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Lena reached for the lock. “She’ll wake the whole building.”
The door flew open and Olga practically burst into the apartment, dragging a huge bag. Behind her sniffled Galina Petrovna in an old terry robe.
“Well, finally!” Olga flung the bag into the hallway. “We’ve been getting ready since night, and you’re sleeping!”
Lena looked from the bag to her mother-in-law.
“What’s going on? Why are you here at seven in the morning?”
Galina Petrovna paused dramatically, then declared:
“We’re moving in. After yesterday’s spectacle I can’t stay alone. My blood pressure shot up!”
Olga nodded, putting the dots on the i:
“Mom will live here. Until she gets better. And I’ll come help.”
Lena felt the floor tilt under her feet. She looked at Igor, but he only spread his hands helplessly.
“You… what?” Lena forced the words out. “Without discussing it? Without my consent?”
Olga snorted, walking into the kitchen.
“What discussion? We’re family! Igor, put the kettle on.”
Galina Petrovna was already surveying the apartment with an appraising look.
“The couch in the living room is too hard for my back. We’ll have to move the bed.”
Lena stood in the hallway, feeling reality blur. It was a coup. A takeover. A declaration of war.
“Igor,” she said quietly. “We need to talk. Now.”
He obediently followed her into the bedroom. The moment the door closed Lena exploded.
“Do you even understand what’s happening? They’re just moving in with us! Without asking!”
Igor sat on the bed, lowering his head.
“Len, Mom’s blood pressure really is bad… She called all night…”
“So what? Now she lives here? And when does it end? In a month? In a year? In ten years?”
He said nothing, and the silence spoke louder than any words.
“I don’t agree to this,” Lena whispered. “This is my home too.”
Igor suddenly looked up at her, and something чужое—foreign—flickered in his eyes.
“Actually… the apartment is in my name. Mom has every right…”
Lena recoiled as if struck.
“What? Are you serious right now? Twelve years of marriage, and you’re talking to me about ‘whose apartment’?”
Outside the door came Galina Petrovna’s deliberately loud cough, then her voice:
“Igor! I need my pills! And where’s the thermometer? I think I have a fever!”
Igor sprang up automatically, moving toward the door, but Lena grabbed his hand.
“No. You make your choice right now. Either me, or them.”
He froze, and Lena read the answer in his eyes before he even opened his mouth.
“Lena… Mom is sick…” he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just wait out this crisis…”
She let go of his hand. Everything became crystal clear.
“Fine,” Lena said unexpectedly calmly. “Let them stay.”
Igor looked at her in surprise, but the relief in his eyes died when she added:
“I’m packing and leaving. For good.”
He tried to object, but Lena was already opening the closet and pulling out a suitcase. At that moment the bedroom door swung open and Olga appeared with a satisfied smile.
“Mom’s asking where her slippers are…” She stopped short when she saw the suitcase. Her face changed instantly. “Oh! Finally! I knew you wouldn’t last!”
Lena turned slowly to her.
“Get out of my bedroom.”
“Yours?” Olga laughed. “Soon everything here will be ours!”
Igor suddenly stepped forward, sharp and angry.
“Olga, shut up! Get out of here!”
But it was too late. Lena opened the dresser drawer and began packing. Her movements were precise, measured. She knew what she was doing. For the first time in many years—she knew for sure.
Somewhere in the apartment Galina Petrovna coughed loudly, making a show of how ill she was. Olga shouted something at Igor. But Lena no longer heard the noise. In her head there was only one phrase, repeating like a mantra: “It’s over. I’m free.”
Lena was packing the last things into the suitcase when Igor burst into the bedroom. His face was twisted with anger—such fury she hadn’t seen in all twelve years of marriage.
“You’re seriously going to leave?” he slammed the door so hard the walls trembled.
Lena didn’t look up, continuing to fold laundry.
“Yes.”
“Because of some nonsense? Mom feels bad—she needs help!”
“‘Nonsense’?” Lena finally looked at him. “You call it nonsense that your family humiliated me for years? That you never once defended me?”
Igor clenched his fists, red blotches spreading across his neck.
“Stop talking garbage! No one humiliated you! You made it all up to feel like a victim!”
Lena closed the suitcase slowly and snapped the clasps shut. Those words were the final drop.
“You know what, Igor? You’re right.” She lifted her head, her voice icy calm. “I really am a victim. A victim of my own stupidity—of believing you’d ever change.”
He stepped forward, blocking her path to the door.
“Where will you go? You don’t have money or a job!”
“Not your concern.”
“How is it not my concern? You’re my wife!”
Lena gave a bitter laugh.
“Ex-wife. Congratulations, Igor. Now you have everything you ever wanted: Mom, your sister, and no ‘hysterical woman’ to get in your way.”
She grabbed the suitcase and headed for the door, but Igor seized her wrist.
“Lena, wait…” panic suddenly crept into his voice. “Let’s talk this through…”
“Let go.”
“No! You’re not leaving like this!”
Lena yanked her hand free.
“Try to stop me—I’ll call the police.”
Their standoff was interrupted by Galina Petrovna’s shrill voice from the living room:
“Igor! My head is splitting! Where are my pills?!”
That scream broke the spell. Igor loosened his fingers, and in his eyes Lena finally saw what she’d waited for all these years—understanding. Understanding of what he was losing.
“Goodbye, Igor.”
She walked out into the hallway, where Olga was already taking charge—moving vases on the shelves like she was marking territory.
“Oh, leaving?” Olga sneered. “Don’t forget to leave the keys.”
Lena silently set the key ring on the little table. Galina Petrovna sat in an armchair, theatrically pressing a hand to her heart, but triumph shone in her eyes.
“I hope you finally take care of your nervous system,” her mother-in-law said in a syrupy tone.
Lena stopped at the door and took one last look at the apartment that had once been her home.
“You know what, Galina Petrovna?” she smiled. “I wish all of you the same happiness you gave me.”
The door closed with a soft click. In the elevator Lena suddenly felt an invisible weight slide off her shoulders. She took out her phone and dialed the number she’d written down a week ago—a realtor.
“Hello? Yes, I want to rent an apartment. Today.”
Outside, it was raining, but for the first time in many years Lena felt free. She knew the hardest part was only beginning. But it was already her life. Her choice.
And there was no longer any place in it for people who didn’t see her as a human being.
Lena stood on the threshold of the studio apartment she’d rented through an agency. After three days in a cheap hotel, this was the first place where she could feel safe. The little room with peeling wallpaper and squeaky parquet felt like a palace.
She set the suitcase down and slowly walked around her new home. A kitchen the size of a closet, a bathroom with a leaking faucet—but it was hers. Completely hers.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Lena flinched—over the past few days she’d learned to fear calls. Unknown number on the screen.
“Hello?” she said cautiously.
“Lena Sergeyevna? This is the ‘Smile’ dental clinic. You interviewed with us yesterday. We’re ready to offer you the position of dental assistant.”
Lena leaned against the wall, feeling her legs go weak.
“Yes… yes, of course! When should I start?”
“Tomorrow at eight a.m. Dress code: medical coat.”
She sank onto the only chair in the room, not believing her luck. The last time she’d worked was five years ago, before Igor convinced her that “a husband should provide for the family.” How she’d missed that feeling—being needed, being professional, being independent.
That evening, after putting her modest belongings into the wardrobe, Lena sat down to fill out her employment paperwork. Suddenly there was a sharp knock at the door. Her heart stopped—no one knew her new address.
“Who is it?” she asked, not going up to the door.
“Lena, it’s me. Open up.”
Igor’s voice sounded hoarse, as if he’d run several kilometers. Lena didn’t move, feeling her hands trembling.
“Go away, Igor. We have nothing to talk about.”
“Please! I’ll just talk and leave. Mom… Mom is in the hospital.”
Lena walked slowly to the door but didn’t open it.
“What happened?”
“After you left, she had a hypertensive crisis. She’s in intensive care. Lena, she’s asking for you.”
Lena closed her eyes. All those days flashed through her mind—how her mother-in-law had faked attacks just to get her way.
“Igor, even if it’s true—I don’t owe your family anything anymore. Hire a caregiver.”
A dull thud came from behind the door—he’d likely punched the wall.
“Damn it, Lena! How can you be so cruel? She could die!”
“And when she threatened to die because of my ‘bad attitude’—did she die?” Lena asked coldly. “Remember last year, when I sat by her bed for three days and then accidentally heard her bragging to Olga that she’d ‘put on a performance’?”
Silence followed. Then Igor said quietly:
“You’re completely different. I don’t recognize you.”
Lena pressed her forehead to the cool door.
“Because the Lena you knew is dead. Go to your mother, Igor. And don’t come here again.”
She heard his footsteps slowly fading down the stairs. Only then did she let herself cry—quietly, so no one would hear.
The next morning Lena put on a white medical coat for the first time in a long time. In the mirror she saw not a beaten-down wife and daughter-in-law, but a specialist. A woman starting life over.
As she was leaving, her phone rang again. This time it was Olga. Lena looked at the screen, took a deep breath, and—for the first time in her life—simply blocked the number.
She walked down the street with her head held high. Ahead was work. A new life. And for the first time in many years—hope.
Three months passed. Lena walked out of the dental clinic, adjusting her scarf. The November wind was sharp, but she liked the feeling—freedom to go where you want without reporting to anyone.
She stopped at a café window, looking at her reflection. In that time, subtle but important changes had appeared—straight posture, a confident gaze, a stylish haircut. Her phone rang in her coat pocket.
“Hello, Lena? This is Marina from HR. We’d like to offer you a promotion—senior assistant, with a salary increase.”
Lena smiled.
“Thank you—I’ll think about it.”
She deliberately didn’t agree immediately. She’d learned to value herself and her skills.
Crossing the street, Lena noticed a familiar figure by the metro entrance. Igor stood there, wrapped in a worn coat, looking ten years older.
Their eyes met. Lena wanted to walk past, but he stepped forward.
“Lena… can we talk?”
She stopped, keeping her distance.
“I don’t have much time.”
Igor fidgeted with his gloves.
“I… I wanted to apologize. Mom… Mom really was sick. But not as seriously as I told you.”
Lena nodded, not surprised.
“I knew.”
“Olga and her husband moved in with her. Now I live alone in our… in my apartment.” He paused. “You look great.”
Lena glanced at her watch.
“I need to go.”
Igor suddenly grabbed her sleeve.
“Wait! I realized my mistakes. Maybe… maybe we could start over?”
Lena gently freed her hand. For the first time, she looked at him without pain, without anger—only a faint sadness.
“No, Igor. Some doors close forever. I wish you happiness.”
She turned and walked toward the metro without looking back. Her phone rang again—this time it was a friend they’d arranged to meet. Lena quickened her step, already looking forward to a pleasant evening.
On the train she accidentally overheard two women talking:
“Imagine—my mother-in-law is meddling with advice again!”
“Oh, I know that… my husband is such a mama’s boy…”
Lena smiled to herself. Once, she’d been the same. But now her life belonged only to her—along with all its hardships, joys, and unexpected turns.
She got off at her stop, rode the escalator up, and filled her lungs with cold November air. A new chapter was ahead. And this time—written by her own hand.