Galina slowly lifted her eyes from the book she’d been reading in the armchair. Vladimir stood in the middle of the room looking as if he’d just told her he’d gotten a promotion at work—not that she was supposed to move out of her own apartment.
“You’re demanding I vacate the guest room? So what—am I supposed to go live with my mom?” Galina asked her husband, setting the book down on the coffee table.
“Galya, don’t react like that. They’re my cousins from Novosibirsk—they come once every five years. Just for a week!” Vladimir spoke in the same tone he’d use to discuss which milk to buy at the store.
“And where, in your opinion, am I supposed to sleep? On the balcony?”
“Why do you immediately jump to extremes? You’ll stay at Anna Petrovna’s—your mom will be happy.”
Galina stood up. A particular slowness appeared in her movements—the kind that foretold a storm.
“Volodya, this is MY apartment. I inherited it from my uncle. You’re registered here only because I wanted you to be after the wedding.”
“There you go again!” Vladimir waved his hand irritably. “We’re husband and wife—what does it matter whose apartment it is? Besides, Mom already arranged everything. They’re arriving the day after tomorrow.”
“Your mom? Elena Sergeyevna has already decided everything for me?”
In the doorway appeared Elena Sergeyevna herself—a short, plump woman with a neat hairstyle and cold blue eyes. She had come an hour ago “just for tea,” but now it was clear why she was here.
“Galya, sweetheart,” her mother-in-law began in a syrupy voice, “there’s no need to make a scene. The boys are traveling from far away—they need rest. And you’re young and healthy; you can stay with your mom for a week. Besides, Anna Petrovna is all alone.”
“Elena Sergeyevna, since when do you decide where I live?”
“I’m not deciding anything, dear. I’m simply offering a reasonable suggestion. Volodya works, he’s tired, and now you’re adding your little whims.”
Three years of marriage, and for all three years Elena Sergeyevna had methodically drilled into her son that his wife should be compliant, convenient, and preferably silent.
“This isn’t a whim—it’s a normal desire to live in my own home!”
“Galya, enough!” Vladimir raised his voice. “The decision is made. Tomorrow you move in with your mother; the day after tomorrow I’ll pick Kostya and Igor up from the station.”
“No!” Galina shouted the word so sharply that even Elena Sergeyevna flinched. “I’m not going anywhere!”
“You will,” Vladimir said coldly. “Or I’ll take your things there myself.”
The next morning Galina woke to the sound of the front door opening. Vladimir walked into the bedroom carrying a large travel bag.
“Get ready,” he snapped, opening the wardrobe.
“Volodya, let’s talk calmly…”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I already warned your mother—she’s waiting.”
Galina sat up in bed, watching as her husband briskly packed her things into the bag. Every movement radiated the confidence of a man used to his word being law.
“And if I refuse?”
Vladimir turned. An unpleasant smirk played on his face.
“Galya, don’t make it harder. Mom’s right—you’re too spoiled. It’s time you learned to respect your husband’s family.”
“Respect?” Galina got out of bed. “Is this what you call respect—throwing me out of my own home?”
“No one’s throwing you out. A temporary inconvenience for relatives is normal.”
Elena Sergeyevna peeked into the room with a tray.
“I made breakfast. Galya, eat something before the trip.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Don’t be capricious, dear. You’ll see—the week will fly by. And while you’re gone, Volodya and I will put things in order and get everything ready for the boys’ arrival.”
“Put things in order? In MY apartment?”
“Galina,” her mother-in-law’s voice turned hard, “you married my son. You took our last name. Now you’re part of our family—and in a family, people help each other.”
“Help? That’s what you call this—help?”
“What else would you call it? Volodya needs to host his brothers properly. It’s not their fault they have no relatives in Moscow except us.”
Galina looked from her husband to her mother-in-law. Both of them seemed absolutely certain they were right.
“You know what? To hell with you!” she blurted out and headed for the bathroom.
“Galina!” Elena Sergeyevna exclaimed indignantly. “How do you speak to your elders!”
But Galina had already shut the door behind her. She turned on the water to drown out the voices outside and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Pale face. Dark circles under her eyes. When had she turned into this cowed, worn-down woman?
An hour later Vladimir drove her to her mother’s place. The whole way he lectured her about family values, mutual support, and how Galina was too selfish.
“A week will pass quickly,” he said goodbye as he unloaded the bag from the car. “Don’t sulk.”
Anna Petrovna met her daughter at the door. One look at Galina’s tear-streaked face was enough to understand: something serious had happened.
“What did Vladimir pull this time?”
“Mom, can I just come in?”
Her mother’s apartment was small but cozy. Galina sat in the kitchen and told her everything. Anna Petrovna listened in silence, only gripping her teacup tighter.
“Galya, why did you agree?”
“What choice did I have? Volodya was determined. Elena Sergeyevna backed him up.”
“It’s YOUR apartment. You had every right to throw them all out—your uninvited ‘guests’ included.”
“Mom, I don’t want scandals…”
“So you want humiliation?” Anna Petrovna stood and went to the window. “Galya, how long are you going to tolerate this? He doesn’t value you at all!”
The days dragged by painfully slowly. Galina tried not to think about what was happening in her apartment, but her imagination painted one nightmare after another. Vladimir didn’t call—he only sent one message: “Everything’s fine, the brothers are happy.”
On the third day Anna Petrovna couldn’t take it anymore.
“We’re going. We’ll see what’s going on there.”
“Mom, don’t…”
“Yes, we will. It’s your apartment, your property. You have the right to check.”
They arrived in the evening. Music spilled from the windows; two men were smoking on the balcony. Galina recognized Kostya, the older brother. Beside him stood Vladimir with a bottle of beer in his hand.
“Let’s leave,” Galina whispered.
But Anna Petrovna was already dialing Vladimir’s number.
“Hello, Vladimir? This is Anna Petrovna. Galina and I are downstairs. She needs to take a few things from the apartment… What? She can’t? Why not?.. Guests? So what?.. I see.”
She hung up and looked at her daughter.
“He said it’s inconvenient right now. Come tomorrow, when no one’s there.”
Galina felt a lump of hurt rise in her throat. They wouldn’t let her into her own apartment.
“Galya, sweetheart,” a familiar voice sounded behind them.
They turned. Elena Sergeyevna was coming out of the entrance with a trash bag.
“What are you doing here?”
“Galina needs some things,” Anna Petrovna replied.
“Oh, things… Well, everything is in its place—no one touched anything. But honestly, Galina, it’s not nice to come checking up on us. We’re not thieves.”
“Elena Sergeyevna, this is my apartment!”
“Yours, yours,” her mother-in-law waved it off. “But there are guests there right now. The men are resting after the road. Your appearance would be… inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate? In my own home?”
“Galina, don’t shout. The week will pass, you’ll come back. By the way, we tidied up. We threw out all the junk from the storage mezzanines and moved the furniture around. It’s much more spacious now.”
“You… what? Without my permission?”
“Oh, come on. There was a century’s worth of dust there. I’ve been telling Volodya for ages—you need to get rid of old stuff.”
Galina stepped forward, but Anna Petrovna caught her by the hand.
“Come on, sweetheart. It’s not worth it.”
They left. The whole way back Galina didn’t say a word, and at home she locked herself in the room and cried until morning.
On the fifth day Vladimir called.
“How are you there?”
“Fine.”
“Galya, don’t sulk. The brothers leave the day after tomorrow. I’ll pick you up in the evening.”
“Don’t pick me up. I’ll come myself.”
“As you wish. By the way, Mom really did put things in order. You’ll like it.”
Galina hung up without listening to the rest. Anger boiled inside her. They were running her home, throwing out her belongings—and she was supposed to be grateful?
“Mom,” she said that evening over dinner, “I can’t live like this anymore.”
“Good. Kick him to the curb!”
“He won’t leave. Elena Sergeyevna won’t let him. She’ll say I’m ungrateful, that they’ve done so much for me…”
“And what did they do? Specifically?”
Galina paused. Really—what? Vladimir lived in her apartment; she cooked, cleaned, did laundry. Elena Sergeyevna came by for inspections and lectures. What good had there been in these three years?
The seventh day. Vladimir texted that the brothers had left and the apartment was free. Galina packed her things and said goodbye to her mother.
“If anything—come back.”
“Mom, it’s my home. I have to be there.”
When Galina opened the door to her apartment, the first thing she noticed was the smell of someone else’s tobacco. In the hallway stood чужие boots; an unfamiliar jacket hung on the rack.
“Volodya?”
Her husband came out of the kitchen, pleased.
“Oh, you’re back! Well? See what order we made?”
Galina walked into the living room and froze. The furniture really had been rearranged. Her favorite armchair sat in the corner, the couch was turned toward the window, and the coffee table was gone.
“Where’s my table?”
“Oh, that junk? Mom threw it out. It was all scratched up.”
“It was an antique! My grandmother’s!”
“Oh, come on. We’ll buy a new, modern one.”
Galina went into the bedroom. The bed linens were чужие; unfamiliar cosmetics stood on her vanity.
“Whose cosmetics are these?”
“Oh, Lena left them. Kostya’s wife. She came with him for two days.”
“Lena? Wife? You said it was just the brothers!”
“Well yeah, and then she came later. What difference does it make?”
Something inside Galina finally cracked completely. They had lied to her, mocked her—and now Vladimir stood there with an innocent expression as if her outrage made no sense.
“GET OUT!”
Vladimir flinched at her scream.
“What?”
“GET OUT OF MY HOME. NOW!”
“Galya, what’s wrong with you?”
“I said—OUT. Pack your things and disappear!”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m your husband!”
“Was. Not anymore.”
Vladimir smirked.
“Calm down. Drink some water. You’re нервная after a week at your mom’s.”
But Galina was already pulling out her phone.
“Hello, Mikhail? This is Galina Morozova. Yes, I need a consultation. Urgently. Divorce and eviction of my husband from my apartment. Yes, the apartment is in my name… I understand. Tomorrow at ten? Good.”
“Who did you call?” Vladimir went pale.
“A lawyer. Tomorrow I’m filing for divorce. And right now—you’re packing and leaving. Or I’ll call the police and say you’re threatening me.”
“Have you lost it? I’ll call my mother!”
“Call her. Let her come and take you home. She’s got a three-bedroom place—plenty of room.”
Vladimir dialed his mother.
“Mom? Come right away. Galina… she’s gone crazy… she’s throwing me out… Yes, right now!”
Half an hour later Elena Sergeyevna burst in. She stormed into the apartment.
“Galina! How dare you! We took you into the family and you—”
“SHUT UP!” Galina shouted so loudly Elena Sergeyevna actually stepped back. “You didn’t take me into the family—you took me in as a servant! For three years I endured your rudeness, humiliation, your audacity! ENOUGH! Take your precious son and get out!”
“Why you… you…”
“I’m the owner of this apartment! And I demand that you leave. BOTH OF YOU!”
“Volodya, she has no right!” Elena Sergeyevna turned to her son.
But Vladimir was silent. He had never seen his wife like this—angry, resolute, merciless.
“You have one hour to pack,” Galina said. “Then I’m calling security.”
“What security?” her mother-in-law snorted.
“This building has a private security company. One call—and you’ll be escorted out. As trespassers.”
It was a bluff, but Vladimir didn’t know that.
“Mom… let’s go.”
“Go where? Volodya, this is your home!”
“It is NOT his home,” Galina snapped. “And it never was! I was a fool to register him here! But that can be fixed!”
Vladimir packed in silence. Elena Sergeyevna darted around the apartment, wailing and making threats.
“You’ll regret this! We’ll ruin your life!”
“Try,” Galina replied coldly. “I have proof you were running my apartment without permission. There are witnesses—neighbors. They saw you carrying furniture out. I can file a report for property damage—or simply for theft.”
“We only wanted what was best!”
“No. You wanted to show who’s in charge. Well—now you have your answer.”
Vladimir came out of the bedroom with two bags.
“Galya, let’s talk calmly…”
“We’ll talk through lawyers.”
“But you loved me…”
“I did. Until you started humiliating me. Until you threw me out of my own home for your relatives.”
“But it was only temporary!”
“Volodya,” Galina stepped close to him, “even now you still don’t understand what you did wrong. You think you had the right to распоряжаться my apartment, my life. You didn’t.”
“Ungrateful!” Elena Sergeyevna threw up her hands. “After everything we did for you!”
“What did you do for me? What—name one thing!”
Her mother-in-law opened her mouth, but couldn’t say a single word.
“That’s what I thought. Now—OUT. And leave the keys!”
Vladimir took out the keyring and set it on the hall table.
“Galya, you’re making a mistake.”
“No, Volodya. The mistake was when I agreed with you and went to my mom’s. Now I’m correcting it.”
They left. Elena Sergeyevna kept threatening lawsuits and trouble until the last second, but Galina simply closed the door behind them.
She walked into the living room, moved her armchair back where it belonged, sat down—and for the first time in a week, she felt at home.
Her phone rang an hour later. Vladimir.
“Galya, don’t be stupid. I’ll come tomorrow—we’ll talk.”
“Don’t come. I’m changing the locks.”
“You can’t do that! I’m registered there!”
“Tomorrow I’ll file to have you deregistered. You deceived me at the time of marriage—you didn’t say you were planning to use my apartment like a hotel for your relatives.”
“You’ve completely lost your mind!”
“No, Volodya. I finally opened my eyes. And you know what? I feel GOOD. Good in my own home!”
She hung up and stopped answering his calls.
A month later the divorce was finalized. Vladimir didn’t fight it—Galina’s lawyer presented evidence of psychological pressure and the unlawful use of her property. Elena Sergeyevna tried to influence things through mutual acquaintances, but Galina wouldn’t budge.
And a month after that she learned something interesting. It turned out Vladimir’s brothers weren’t “poor relatives” at all. They had a hotel room booked, but Elena Sergeyevna decided to save money and, at the same time, “put the daughter-in-law in her place.” They didn’t get a refund for the canceled booking—the reservation burned.
But the most interesting thing happened three months later. Vladimir met a new woman—Marina. Beautiful, well-off, with her own business. Elena Sergeyevna was thrilled, already planning the wedding.
And then one day Galina ran into Angela—Marina’s friend—in a café.
“Galya! Long time no see! Listen—is it true you used to be married to Vladimir Sergeyev?”
“I was. Why?”
“My Marina is dating him. He wants to move in with her.”
“Move in?”
“Yeah. She’s got a four-room apartment in the city center. He says it’s cramped at his mother’s place, and renting is expensive.”
Galina smirked.
“Angela, tell your friend to run. He’ll start ordering her around in her own apartment like it’s his. And his mommy will occupy the place completely.”
“Oh, come on!”
“I’m serious. He threw me out of my own apartment for a week to move his relatives in. And my mother-in-law threw out my things.”
Angela gasped. A week later Marina dumped Vladimir without even explaining why.
And half a year later Galina heard that Elena Sergeyevna was selling her three-bedroom apartment. It turned out Vladimir had gotten into debt, and now they had to pay it off with property. They moved into a tiny one-room place on the outskirts, and now it was Elena Sergeyevna who had to sleep on a fold-out cot in the kitchen whenever Vladimir had guests.
Galina, meanwhile, met Andrey—a calm, dependable man who, from the first days they knew each other, said: “Your home is your fortress. I’ll only be a guest there until you decide otherwise.”
They married two years later. And when Andrey’s relatives came for the wedding, he booked them a hotel without even considering the idea of moving them into Galina’s place.
“Your peace of mind is worth more than any money,” he said.
And Galina understood what real respect in a family looks like. Not humiliation and commands, but care for each other. And most importantly—she would never again allow anyone to drive her out of her own home. Never.
Vladimir, meanwhile, stayed living with his mother in that cramped apartment, dreaming of the life he’d destroyed with his own hands. Elena Sergeyevna still tells acquaintances about her “ungrateful daughter-in-law,” but everyone who knows the real story only smirks.
May he have nothing to show for it—such a pathetic excuse for a husband who didn’t value what he had. And the mother-in-law too—for her greed and hunger for control. They got what they deserved: loneliness and tight quarters instead of love and space.