Morning light streamed through the blinds, slicing the kitchen into sharp bands. Alice stood by the stove, stirring oatmeal automatically. Her long hair was pinned up in a rush, and the fatigue of a sleepless night had settled in her eyes. The click of keys in the lock made her flinch.
“We’re here!” Nina announced loudly, stepping into the apartment without knocking—as usual.
Behind her came Yura: a tall man with a permanently guilty expression. He was carrying yet another box filled with his mother’s things.
“Alice, sweetheart, I’ve decided it’ll be more convenient if I move in with you for good. The neighbors upstairs are renovating anyway—there’s constant noise, it’s impossible to live there!” Nina swept into the living room, appraising the interior. “Though, of course, it’s all rather… modest. But that’s fine—I’ll help you arrange everything properly.”
Alice turned to her husband; a silent question flared in her gaze. Yura looked away.
“Mom’s only staying a couple of weeks, until they’re done over there…”
“A couple of weeks?” Nina laughed. “Yurochka, why lie? I’ve already arranged to rent out my apartment. The money will be useful for all of us. And there’s plenty of space here—if we throw out this junk.” She pointed at Alice’s bookshelves. “Who needs these dusty books? We’ll put my bedroom furniture here instead.”
The oatmeal began to burn on the stove, but Alice didn’t move. A lump rose in her throat, making it hard to speak.
“Nina Pavlovna, Yura and I didn’t discuss—”
“What is there to discuss?” her mother-in-law cut in. “I’m the mother. I have the right to live with my son. By the way, Alice, are you making that porridge again? Yurochka can’t stand oatmeal. Right, son?”
Yura stayed silent, staring at his shoes.
“He’s been eating it every morning for two years,” Alice said quietly.
“Because you FORCE him!” Nina strode up to the stove and switched off the burner. “From today on, I’ll be the one cooking. My son needs real food, not your diets. And while we’re at it, Alice, let’s divide chores right away. The kitchen is my territory. You can do the cleaning. Just be careful with my things—they’re expensive.”
“Mom, maybe you shouldn’t be so strict…” Yura began timidly.
“SILENCE!” Nina snapped. “I’m speaking to my daughter-in-law. Or have you forgotten who raised you? Who stayed up all night when you were sick?”
Alice headed for the doorway, but Nina blocked her.
“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not finished. Now, bedrooms. I need your room—it gets more light. You’re young; you can fit into the smaller one. Or sleep on the couch in the living room.”
“No.” Alice lifted her head and looked her mother-in-law straight in the eyes. “This is our apartment. Our bedroom. And our life.”
“Yura, did you hear how she spoke to me?”
Yura shifted from foot to foot, unsure whose side to take.
“Alice, come on… Mom isn’t a stranger…”
“Not a stranger?” Alice turned to him. “She walks in without warning, criticizes everything I do, and now she’s trying to throw us out of our own bedroom! And you’re SILENT. You just sit there and say nothing!”
“Don’t yell at my son!” Nina grabbed Alice by the arm. “If it weren’t for me, you’d never have gotten a husband like him! Look at you—plain as a mouse. Yurochka married you out of pity!”
Alice tore her arm free.
“Out of pity? Is that what you’ve put into his head?”
“Well, the truth stings… I mean, it’s obvious!” Nina smirked. “Yura had prettier girlfriends. Kristina, for instance—that was a woman. Smart, beautiful, from a good family. Not like you—an orphan with no roots.”
“Mom, enough!” Yura finally spoke.
“Enough of what? I’m telling the truth! Your Alice can’t even cook properly! The house is a mess, dust everywhere, and she sits reading books! A parasite!”
Alice stepped back, pressing a hand to her chest.
“I’m a university lecturer. I have my own income.”
“A lecturer!” Nina snorted. “You earn pennies and act proud! A real wife keeps the house spotless, pleases her husband—she doesn’t fill students’ heads with nonsense!”
“Yura, say something—anything,” Alice begged, looking at her husband.
He said nothing, avoiding her eyes.
“See?” Nina declared triumphantly. “He agrees with me. My son and I are on the same side. And you—you’re an OUTSIDER. Temporary. Here today, gone tomorrow. A mother, though—she’s forever.”
Two years of humiliations, silent endurance, attempts to make peace—everything shattered in an instant.
“GET OUT,” Alice said, her voice icy. “Both of you. NOW.”
“What?” Nina blinked. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m perfectly sane. For the first time in two years of marriage. This is MY apartment. I bought it with inheritance money before I even met Yura. And I’m not tolerating insults in MY own home anymore.”
“Yura!” Nina shrieked. “She’s throwing your mother out!”
Yura stared at his mother, then at his wife, at a loss.
“Alice, you’re going too far. Mom got carried away, but kicking her out—”
“I’m not kicking out your mother,” Alice said evenly. “I’m kicking out both of you. You can live together anywhere you want—just not here.”
“You can’t throw your husband out!” Nina flushed red with rage. “You’re married! He has rights!”
“He has no rights here. Remember the prenuptial agreement? You insisted on it before the wedding—you were afraid I’d claim Yura’s apartment. Funny, isn’t it? This apartment is registered only in my name.”
“Alice, let’s talk calmly…” Yura stepped toward her, but she pulled away.
“For two years I tried to talk calmly. For two years I listened to your mother call me a failure, criticize my looks, my cooking, my job. And you stayed SILENT. Always. Or worse—you agreed with her.”
“I just didn’t want to upset Mom…”
“So upsetting your wife is fine? Who am I to you, Yura? A free maid with an apartment? A warming pad in bed?”
“Don’t talk nonsense!”
“Nonsense? When was the last time you defended me? When did you tell your mother she was wrong? NEVER. You’re a coward, Yura. A mama’s boy who’s thirty-five and still can’t say no to his mother.”
“What do you know!” Yura exploded. “You didn’t have parents! You don’t know what family obligations are!”
That was the final drop. Alice straightened, looking at him with cold contempt.
“Precisely because I didn’t have a family, I valued ours so much. But family isn’t where you’re humiliated and betrayed. I just understood that too late.”
She pulled out her phone and started dialing.
“What are you doing?” Nina asked, alarmed.
“I’m calling a locksmith. The locks will be changed within the hour. You have time to pack Yura’s things and LEAVE.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Nina lunged toward Alice, but Alice stepped back to the window.
“Hello, Sergey Viktorovich? This is Alice from 15 Tverskaya. Yes, I need the locks changed urgently. In an hour? Perfect. Thank you.”
She turned to Yura and his mother, frozen in shock.
“Time starts now. I suggest you hurry.”
“Yura, do something!” Nina screamed. “She’s lost it!”
“Alice… this is our home… our family…” Yura mumbled.
“It WAS a family,” Alice replied. “Until you chose your mother over your wife. Until you let her trample my dignity. You know, Yura—your mother is right about one thing: Kristina would have been a better match for you. Because, as I recall, she ran away from your ‘close-knit family’ too.”
“Don’t you dare mention Kristina!” Nina shrieked.
“What is it—does it hurt to remember how you drove her away? She lasted a year. I was stupid enough to endure you for two.”
“If you throw us out, you’ll be alone!” Nina tried to press on her pity. “Who will want you at thirty-two? An old maid!”
“Better alone than with you. And you know what? I’m GLAD Yura and I never had children. I wouldn’t want them growing up with a grandmother like you and a doormat for a father.”
Yura went pale.
“Alice, you’re cruel…”
“No, Yura. Cruel is when my mother-in-law announces at your birthday party, in front of everyone, that I’m not worthy of her son—and you laugh along. Cruel is when I’m forced to cook for your whole family and then get criticized for every dish. I’m not cruel. I’m simply done letting you humiliate me.”
Nina grabbed her son’s arm.
“Yura, if you side with her now, you’re not my son anymore!”
“Mom, don’t say that…”
“Choose! Either me, or this… this ungrateful witch!”
Alice shook her head, tired.
“There’s no need to choose, Yura. I chose for you. You’re perfect together—an infantile son and a tyrant mother. Live happily ever after. Just not in my apartment.”
She walked past them into the bedroom and began packing her husband’s things into a suitcase. Her hands didn’t shake—inside, a strange calm had settled in, the kind that comes after a decision has finally been made.
“What are you doing with my son’s things?” Nina stormed after her.
“Helping you pack faster. I don’t want the locksmith waiting.”
“Yura, she’s mocking you!”
But Yura stood in the doorway, watching as his wife methodically folded his shirts, socks, and underwear.
“Alice, let’s talk—without my mother…”
“Too late, Yura. You had two years to talk. Two years to defend me even once. Two years to tell your mother ‘NO.’ But you chose silence. And silence is a choice.”
“I love you…”
Alice paused, holding his favorite sweater—the one she had knitted for him for their first anniversary.
“No, Yura. You love convenience. You love that someone cooks, cleans, washes, and asks for nothing in return— not even basic respect.”
“That’s unfair!”
“You know what’s unfair? That I believed your promises. ‘Mom will get used to it.’ ‘Mom will change.’ ‘Just endure a little longer.’ I endured for two years. ENOUGH.”
The doorbell rang. Alice threw the last items into the suitcase and went to open the door. A locksmith stood on the threshold—a young man with a tool case.
“Hello, Ms. Alice Mikhaylovna. Ready to start.”
“Come in. We’ll clear the space for you.”
She went back into the bedroom and rolled the suitcase out.
“That’s it. You can go.”
“You’ll regret this!” Nina hissed. “You’ll be alone, on your knees, begging Yura to come back!”
“Maybe,” Alice said calmly. “But it will be MY choice and MY life. Without you.”
“Yura!” Nina yanked his sleeve. “Don’t just stand there—say something!”
Yura opened his mouth, but no words came. He looked at his wife—calm, composed, determined—and didn’t recognize her. Where was the quiet, compliant Alice who never argued?
“You know, Yura,” Alice said, “your mother always insisted I wasn’t worthy of you. And you know what? She’s right—but not the way she thinks. I’m worth more than being a doormat. I deserve a husband who defends me, not one who hides behind his mother’s skirt. I deserve respect in my own home.”
“Let’s go, Yura!” Nina dragged her son toward the door. “Don’t humiliate yourself in front of this trash!”
At the doorway, Yura turned back.
“Alice… what about our plans? Children?”
“Children?” Alice gave a bitter half-smile. “With you? With your mother as the grandmother? NEVER. And you know what I realized? When your mother said a year ago that I was incapable of carrying a child—and you stayed silent—that’s when I understood there would be no children. Not with you.”
“But you said you’d forgiven it…”
“I said a lot. I forgave a lot. But something inside me died with every one of your silences, every ‘Mom is right,’ every ‘ignore it.’ Today it died for good.”
“Finished?” Alice said, looking from her husband to his mother. “Turn around and walk out of my apartment.”
Nina tried to say something else, but the locksmith had already started working; the whine of his drill drowned her out. She rushed out the door, dragging her son and the suitcase behind her.
Alice closed the door. The apartment fell quiet—only the locksmith fussed with the lock. Alice went to the kitchen, dumped the burnt oatmeal, and put the kettle on. Her hands trembled slightly as the adrenaline faded.
“Everything okay?” the locksmith asked gently, peeking into the kitchen.
“Yes, thank you. Would you like some tea?”
“I wouldn’t say no.”
They drank in silence. The locksmith was tactful and didn’t ask unnecessary questions.
“All done,” he said half an hour later. “Here are the new keys. Three sets, as requested.”
“Why three?” Alice asked, surprised. “I live alone now.”
“Just in case. A spare never hurts. And I installed a reinforced lock—this one won’t be easy to break.”
Alice thanked him, paid him, and saw him out. Alone again, she walked through the apartment. Without Nina’s constant presence, without Yura’s whining, it felt strangely quiet—and spacious.
Her phone was vibrating nonstop. Yura. Nina. Then unfamiliar numbers—relatives joining in, most likely. Alice muted the phone and started cleaning. She threw away every item that reminded her of her mother-in-law—Nina’s slippers, the robe she kept there, the endless jars of medication. Then she sat at her computer and wrote a divorce petition.
A week passed. Alice took leave from the university and focused on herself—reading, walking, meeting friends she hadn’t seen in ages. Yura bombarded her with calls from different numbers, sent messages, even stood outside her building, but she didn’t respond.
On the eighth day, the intercom buzzed.
“Alice Mikhaylovna? This is the district police officer. May I come up?”
Alice’s stomach tightened, but she buzzed him in. The officer was a middle-aged man with tired eyes.
“What happened?”
“Your husband and mother-in-law filed a complaint claiming you illegally evicted them, threatened physical harm, stole belongings…”
“What? That’s a lie!”
“I understand. But I have to verify. Do you have the property documents?”
Alice showed everything—her ownership certificate in her name, and the prenuptial agreement clearly stating the apartment remained her personal property.
“Understood,” the officer nodded. “The apartment is yours; you have every right to refuse entry to anyone. As for threats and theft…”
“I packed all my husband’s things and handed them to him. With a witness—the locksmith can confirm it. There were no threats. I simply told them to leave.”
“I don’t doubt you. I’m just warning you—they’re determined. Be careful.”
After the officer left, Alice sat still for a long time. Nina Pavlovna wouldn’t let it go—of that she was certain. She would need to be ready for the next attack.
And she wasn’t wrong. Two days later, Nina staged a scandal at the university—bursting into Alice’s lecture.
“There she is!” her mother-in-law screeched, charging into the classroom. “A homewrecker! She destroyed a family!”
The students stared in shock. Alice calmly set down her pointer.
“Nina Pavlovna, leave the room. You’re disrupting a lecture.”
“I’ll tell everyone what you are! You threw your husband out! You threw your husband’s mother into the street!”
“Security,” Alice said, pressing the emergency button.
Two guards escorted the screaming woman out. Alice turned to the students.
“I apologize for the interruption. Let’s continue. So—Romanticism in Russian literature…”
After the lecture, the dean, Elena Vsevolodovna—a woman in her fifties with understanding eyes—approached her.
“Alice, what is going on? That woman has tried to get to you for three days now.”
Alice gave her a brief explanation.
“I see. Don’t worry—I’ll instruct security not to let her onto the premises. And I advise you to consult a lawyer. This behavior is already harassment.”
Alice followed the advice. Her lawyer, Svyatoslav Igorevich—a young, energetic man—listened to her story and immediately got down to business.
“A classic case. We’ll gather evidence of harassment and file a complaint. If they don’t stop, we’ll seek a restraining order. By the way—have you filed for divorce yet?”
“I wrote the petition, but I haven’t submitted it.”
“Submit it as soon as possible. And request division of marital property.”
“But we have a prenuptial agreement…”
“That covers premarital property. Anything acquired during the marriage is split in half. Does your husband have a car?”
“Yes. He bought it a year ago.”
“Excellent. We’ll demand half its value. That’s fair.”
A month later, Yura received a court summons. He was sitting in his mother’s apartment—the very one she supposedly planned to rent out—and couldn’t believe what he was reading.
“She’s demanding half the value of the car!” he shouted.
“What nerve!” Nina echoed. “We’ll show her! I know a lawyer—he’ll teach her a lesson!”
But after looking over the documents, the lawyer simply spread his hands.
“The prenuptial agreement is drafted properly. The apartment is hers. The car was bought during the marriage—so it must be divided. Either you pay her half the value or—”
“But I don’t have that kind of money!”
“Then you’ll have to sell the car.”
Yura was desperate. Without a car he’d struggle to work—his job as a regional manager required constant travel.
“Maybe I should talk to Alice?” he suggested weakly.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” his mother snapped. “Don’t humiliate yourself!”
But a week later, when he received the official court date for the divorce, Yura cracked. He waited for Alice outside the university.
“Alice, we need to talk.”
She stopped and looked at him carefully.
“Talk about what, Yura? It’s over.”
“Why are you going after the car? You don’t even drive.”
“I don’t drive. But it’s marital property. I’m entitled to half.”
“But if I lose the car, I’ll lose my job!”
“That’s your problem. When your mother humiliated me and you stayed silent, that was my problem—remember?”
“Alice, please…”
“No, Yura. For two years I begged you to protect me. You didn’t hear me. Now I don’t hear you.”
She turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the university courtyard.
The divorce hearing was quick. Yura didn’t show up—he sent a representative. The marriage was dissolved; the court ordered the car sold and the proceeds split equally. Alice received her share and immediately spent it on a trip—she had dreamed of visiting Italy for years.
When she returned tan and rested, she heard interesting news from colleagues. Apparently, Yura had ended up in a major scandal—but that’s another story. And Alice? Alice was happy. She lived alone, read her books, and in the evenings she cooked herself oatmeal.