“You won’t believe what your mother pulled this time!” Marina stormed into the bedroom, squeezing her phone so hard her knuckles went white.
Her husband, Pavel, slowly lifted his eyes from the laptop. A familiar wave of weariness crossed his face—the same one that appeared whenever Nadezhda Petrovna came up. Marina knew that expression by heart. Three years of marriage had taught her to read him like an open book.
“What is it now?” he asked, rubbing his temples. His voice sounded defeated.
“She called and announced that I’m supposed to take vacation and look after her brother, Viktor Semyonovich. Can you imagine? Me! I have to!” Marina dropped onto the edge of the bed, still unable to believe what she’d heard. “He broke his leg, and your mother decided I’m the one who’ll take care of him. Not her, not Katya—who doesn’t even have a job—me!”
Ekaterina was Pavel’s younger sister. At twenty-eight, she still lived with their mother, officially calling herself a “freelancer,” even though her last gig had been six months ago. Her main activity was lying on the couch and binge-watching shows, which didn’t stop her from routinely complaining about how hard her life was.
Pavel shut the laptop. Marina could see the conflict in his face: the instinct to defend his wife fighting against years of conditioning to obey his mother.
“Maybe it’s only for a little while,” he tried, searching for a middle ground. “A couple of days at most?”
Marina looked at him with such disappointment that he averted his eyes.
“A couple of days? Pasha, someone with a broken leg needs care for at least a month! Your mother wants me to walk away from the job that actually pays me and become an unpaid caretaker for her brother—a man I’ve seen twice in my life!”
Pavel’s phone rang. The screen said: “Mom.” They both froze, staring at the vibrating device like it was a bomb with a countdown.
“Answer,” Marina said quietly. “Let’s see what she says.”
Pavel reluctantly picked up and put it on speaker.
“Pavlushka, my son,” Nadezhda Petrovna’s voice sounded honey-sweet, but Marina had learned to hear the iron beneath it. “Did Marina tell you about Uncle Vitya? Poor man—fell down the stairs, can’t get around now. I’ve already arranged it: she’ll take sick leave and help.”
“Mom, but Marina works. She has an important project…”
“Oh, please—what project?” his mother cut him off. “She sits at a computer—that’s all her work is. And here a person needs help! A relative! Or are my relatives not family to your wife?”
Marina clenched her fists. The manipulation was so blunt, so obvious, and yet somehow it always worked on Pavel.
“Nadezhda Petrovna,” Marina cut in, forcing calm into her voice, “why can’t Katya help? She’s home all day.”
There was a pause on the line. Then her mother-in-law’s voice turned icy.
“Katya is very sensitive. It’s hard for her to see other people suffer. Besides, she has an important project coming up. And you, Marina… I thought you were more responsible. But if you can’t be bothered to help… fine. Now I know what kind of person you really are.”
The line went dead.
Pavel and Marina sat in silence, digesting what they’d heard. Marina spoke first.
“Katya has a project. Did you hear that? A project! Her last ‘project’ was designing a business card for a friend—for ‘thanks’!”
“Marin…”
“No, Pasha. I’m not doing this. Your mother is crossing every boundary. First she demanded I cook her lunches and carry them across town. Then she forced me to clean their apartment every weekend. Now she wants to turn me into a nurse. Where does it end?”
Pavel stood and walked to the window. His shoulders were tight.
“She’s my mother, Marina. I can’t just—”
“Just what, say ‘no’?” Marina stood up too. “Pavel, we’re adults. We have our own family. When are you going to understand that?”
The next morning began with an insistent doorbell. Marina, not fully awake yet, went to open. On the doorstep stood Nadezhda Petrovna in person. Katya was beside her, holding a huge bag.
“Well, since Pavlushka is at work, I’ll have to explain this to you,” her mother-in-law said without greeting, walking straight into the apartment. “Here are Uncle Vitya’s things. Medicines, underwear, everything. Write down the address.”
She shoved a slip of paper toward Marina.
“Nadezhda Petrovna, I already told you—”
“You said something foolish, my dear. Tomorrow morning you go to him. Eight a.m. Don’t be late. You’ll need to make his breakfast, wash him, help him change.”
Katya plopped the bag down in the entryway and smirked.
“And don’t forget his special diet,” she added. “Uncle Vitya is extremely picky. The grocery list is in the bag.”
Marina felt anger surge up through her chest. They were in her home, in her hallway, giving orders about her time and her life—as if she belonged to them.
“Leave,” she said quietly.
“What?” Nadezhda Petrovna even stepped back, startled.
“Get out of my home. Now. And take that bag with you.”
“Why you… do you even understand who you’re speaking to?” her mother-in-law’s voice shook with rage.
“To a woman who barged into my apartment uninvited and is trying to force me into unpaid caregiving,” Marina replied evenly. “Leave, or I’m calling the police.”
Nadezhda Petrovna flushed purple. Katya grabbed her mother’s arm.
“Mom, let’s go. Let Pavel deal with her.”
They left, slamming the door. Marina stayed standing in the hallway, staring at the bag they’d abandoned. She knew this was only the beginning.
That evening Pavel came home dark as thunder. Without taking off his jacket, he walked into the living room.
“Mom called,” he said. “She said you threw her out.”
“I told her to leave our home after she tried to force me into being a caretaker.”
“Marina, it’s family!”
“Family?” Marina rose from the couch. “Family is you and me. And your mother treats you like an ATM and me like a maid—and you let it happen!”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“I’m not exaggerating? Fine, let’s do the math. In the last year alone, we gave your mother and sister more than three hundred thousand rubles. Three hundred thousand, Pavel! And Katya doesn’t work, while your mother gets a decent pension!”
Pavel stayed silent. He knew she was right—but admitting it meant admitting he’d been blind all these years.
“And you know what?” Marina went on. “I’m exhausted. Exhausted from being the ‘bad’ daughter-in-law. Exhausted from apologizing. Exhausted from proving I’m allowed to live my own life. Either you choose our family, or you keep being mommy’s little boy. Decide.”
She walked into the bedroom, leaving him alone. Pavel sank onto the couch and covered his head with his hands. For the first time in his life, he felt cornered. On one side—his mother, who had manipulated him his whole life. On the other—his wife, who was asking for one thing only: respect and the right to live her life.
The night passed in strained silence. Marina slept in the bedroom; Pavel on the living-room couch. In the morning he left for work without breakfast.
Around noon, the doorbell rang again. Marina, working from home, reluctantly went to answer. A stranger stood there—a woman around sixty.
“Are you Marina? I’m Valentina, Viktor Semyonovich’s neighbor. Nadezhda Petrovna gave me your address. She said you’d be looking after him.”
“I won’t,” Marina said firmly.
The woman lifted her eyebrows in surprise.
“But… Nadezhda Petrovna said it was all settled. Viktor Semyonovich is waiting. He really does need help.”
“Then why isn’t Nadezhda Petrovna helping her own brother?”
Valentina gave a snort.
“They haven’t spoken in ten years! They had a falling-out over their parents’ inheritance. Viktor got the apartment, and Nadezhda got the summer house. She’s still furious about it. And now that he needs help, she’s trying to dump it on you. Your mother-in-law is a crafty one.”
Marina felt the puzzle pieces click into place.
“They don’t speak? But she said he’s family… a close relative…”
“What family? She hasn’t visited him once all these years. And now suddenly she’s rushing around. Maybe she’s hoping if you care for him, he’ll sign the apartment over to her. He doesn’t have kids.”
Valentina left, and Marina stood there with her phone in her hand. She dialed Pavel.
“Your mother hasn’t spoken to her brother in ten years. They’re estranged because of the inheritance. She’s trying to use me to get his apartment.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Are you sure?” Pavel finally asked.
“His neighbor just came by. She told me everything.”
“I… I need to think. We’ll talk tonight.”
But that evening there was no chance to talk—because Nadezhda Petrovna and Katya were already sitting in their apartment. They had keys. Pavel had given them to his mother a year earlier “just in case.”
“So,” Nadezhda Petrovna asked, not even looking at Marina who walked in behind him, “did you sort your wife out?”
“Mom,” Pavel said, “is it true you haven’t spoken to Uncle Vitya in ten years?”
Nadezhda Petrovna flinched, then quickly composed herself.
“There were disagreements. But now the man needs help!”
“Disagreements?” Pavel sat down across from her. “Or you want his apartment?”
“How dare you!” Nadezhda Petrovna shrieked. “I’m your mother!”
“Yes, Mom. And that’s exactly why I know you never do anything for no reason. Ten years of silence, and suddenly you’re overflowing with concern.”
Katya sprang up.
“Pasha, are you really going to believe that upstart more than your own mother?”
“I believe facts, Katya. And the facts say you’ve been using me—and using Marina.”
“Using you?” Nadezhda Petrovna stood, bracing herself on the table. “We are your family! I raised you, I didn’t sleep nights—”
“And I’m grateful,” Pavel said. “But that doesn’t give you the right to run our lives!”
“Oh, is that how it is?” Nadezhda Petrovna snapped. “Then forget you have a mother! And a sister! Live with your precious Marina! But when she leaves you, don’t come crawling back!”
She marched toward the door, but Pavel stopped her.
“The keys.”
“What?”
“The keys to our apartment. Give them back.”
Nadezhda Petrovna glared at him with hatred, then threw the keys onto the floor.
“Katya, pack your things. We’re going to Aunt Vera in Samara. Let him see what it’s like to be without a family!”
They left, slamming the door behind them. Pavel and Marina remained seated in the silence.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I was a blind idiot.”
Marina walked over and hugged him.
“You’re not an idiot. You just loved your mother. But love shouldn’t make you blind.”
A week passed. Nadezhda Petrovna and Katya really did go to relatives, after calling everyone they knew to complain about her ungrateful son. But Pavel was calm. For the first time in years, he felt free.
One evening, there was a knock at the door. Marina opened it to find an elderly man on crutches.
“Excuse me… are you Marina? I’m Viktor Semyonovich—Nadezhda’s brother.”
Marina blinked, startled.
“Yes… that’s me. Please, come in.”
The man made his way to the living room, lowered himself onto the chair she offered.
“I came to apologize,” he said. “And to thank you.”
“For what?” Pavel asked, coming in.
“My sister…” Viktor sighed. “She was always… unusual. She manipulated everyone. My father left the apartment to me for a reason—he knew Nadya would squander everything. She never forgave him for that. And now she decided to use you.”
He paused.
“Valentina, my neighbor, told me what happened. I hired a caregiver. Everything is taken care of. And I want you to know—I changed my will. The apartment will go to an orphanage. So Nadya won’t have any temptation.”
Pavel let out a short laugh.
“She’ll be furious.”
“Let her be. Maybe it’ll finally make Katya get a job,” Viktor said dryly. Then his expression softened. “And you… take care of each other. Family isn’t blood. It’s a choice. And you made the right one.”
Viktor left. Marina and Pavel stayed on the couch, hands entwined.
“You know,” Pavel said quietly, “I thought I was betraying my mother. Turns out I was saving us.”
“We’re saving us,” Marina corrected him. “Together.”
A month later, Katya called. Her voice was small—strangely subdued.
“Pasha… can I come by? To talk.”
She arrived alone, thinner and tired.
“Mom’s completely lost it,” she said as soon as she crossed the threshold. “Aunt Vera is kicking her out—says she’s had enough. And Mom is demanding I go get a job. Can you imagine? Me. Working.”
Pavel stared at his sister, and for the first time he saw her as she really was—spoiled, childish, incapable of standing on her own.
“And what do you want from me?” he asked.
“Help me find something. And… can I stay with you until I rent a place?”
“No,” Marina said firmly. “You won’t be living with us. But we’ll help you find a job. There’s an opening for an administrator at a salon. The pay isn’t great, but it’s a start.”
Katya opened her mouth to protest, but she looked at their faces and understood there was nothing to bargain over.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Thank you anyway.”
She left, and Pavel wrapped his arms around his wife.
“You gave her a chance.”
“Everyone deserves a chance,” Marina said. “But only one.”
Another month passed, and Nadezhda Petrovna tried to return. She came alone, knocked on their door.
“Pavlushka, open up. I know you’re home. Mom came.”
But the door stayed closed. She stood in the stairwell for an hour, then left.
Pavel and Marina heard her voice. But they didn’t open. Their home was a fortress now—and they had learned to defend their boundaries.
That evening they sat on the balcony with tea.
“Do you regret it?” Marina asked.
“No,” Pavel said. “You know what I realized? Toxic people are like a swamp. The longer you stand in it, the deeper it pulls you under. And at some point you just have to climb out—even if it hurts.”
“We climbed out,” Marina said.
“Yeah,” he replied. “And you know what? For the first time, I feel like I have a real family. You’re my family, Marina. Not blood, not relatives—you.”
They sat and watched the sunset. The apartment was quiet. No phone calls with demands and accusations. No uninvited guests pounding at the door. No tension hanging in the air, waiting for the next blowup.
Just silence. And freedom. And two people who chose each other.