Polina pushed open the apartment door and immediately sensed that something was wrong.
Usually, at this hour, Nikita would be sitting at his computer or watching football. But now her husband was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window. His face was thoughtful, almost grim.
Polina dropped her bag onto the sofa and walked over to the fridge.
“Hi,” she said casually.
“Hi,” Nikita answered without turning around.
An awkward, heavy silence settled between them.
Polina took out a yogurt, opened it, and sat down at the table. Nikita remained by the window, turning a cup in his hands. He was clearly preparing himself for some kind of conversation.
Polina could feel the tension, but she did not ask anything. Let him start if he had something to say.
Nikita sighed and finally turned around.
“Polina, my mother called me today.”
“So?”
“She was complaining. She says it’s hard for her to be alone.”
Polina kept eating her yogurt. She said nothing.
“Her health isn’t good,” Nikita continued. “Her blood pressure keeps jumping. And she’s lonely. She sits alone all day.”
“Nikita, your mother is always complaining about something,” Polina said evenly. “One day it’s her blood pressure, the next it’s her knees, then it’s the neighbors making noise. This is nothing new.”
“Yes, but this time she really sounded bad. I could hear it in her voice.”
Polina put the spoon down and looked at her husband.
“What are you getting at?”
Nikita hesitated and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“I was thinking… maybe we could take her in for a while. Temporarily. Until she feels better.”
Polina froze. Slowly, she placed the yogurt cup on the table.
“Nikita, what are you talking about? Bring her here? Into a one-room apartment?”
“Only temporarily. Not forever.”
“We have thirty-two square meters!” Polina raised her voice. “Where exactly are you planning to put her? In the bathroom?”
“We’ll set up a folding bed. Or we’ll give Mom the sofa and sleep on the floor ourselves. Polina, she’s my mother!”
“This is my apartment,” Polina cut him off. “The one I bought before we got married. With my own money. And there is barely enough space here for the two of us.”
“So you don’t care about my mother?”
“I do care. But I am not turning my apartment into a crowded communal flat.”
Nikita pressed his lips together, turned, and left the kitchen.
Polina remained sitting at the table. Something inside her tightened with a bad feeling. This conversation was clearly not over.
For the next few days, they lived in strained silence. Nikita walked around gloomy and answered every question with one or two words. Polina pretended not to notice. She worked, cooked dinner, went to bed. But the subject hung over them like an invisible storm cloud.
On Friday evening, the conversation returned. This time, Nikita began with accusations.
“Do you know what Mom told me?” he asked, sitting on the sofa and looking at his wife reproachfully. “She said you’re heartless. That you don’t want to help a sick woman.”
Polina rolled her eyes.
“Nikita, your mother isn’t sick. She’s sixty-two, and her health is perfectly fine.”
“How would you know?”
“Because a month ago, Lilia Viktorovna went south to a resort. She went on excursions, swam in the sea. You showed me the photos yourself.”
“That was a month ago! She’s worse now!”
“Nikita, stop it,” Polina said tiredly. “Your mother is manipulating you. That’s her favorite tactic. She wants to control your life. Our life.”
“How can you say that about my mother?” Nikita jumped up from the sofa. “She thinks of you like a daughter!”
“That’s not true. Lilia Viktorovna has disliked me since the first day we met.”
“Because you ignore her!”
“I don’t ignore her. I simply don’t allow her to interfere in our life.”
Nikita paced around the room, clenching his fists.
“You’re selfish, Polina. That’s what you are.”
Polina said nothing.
There was no point arguing. Nikita was not hearing her arguments. He saw only what his mother had planted in his head.
The next day, the calls began.
Lilia Viktorovna called Polina three or four times. Polina did not answer. Finally, her mother-in-law got through in the evening while Polina was on her way home from the store.
“Polinochka, hello, darling!” Lilia Viktorovna’s voice trembled as though she were about to burst into tears. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Lilia Viktorovna.”
“Listen, dear, I’ve been thinking… Nikitushka told me that you don’t mind letting me stay with you. Just for a month. Until I feel better.”
Polina stopped right in the middle of the street.
“Lilia Viktorovna, I never said I didn’t mind. Quite the opposite. I am against it.”
“But why?” her mother-in-law sniffled. “It wouldn’t be forever! Just one month!”
“We don’t have the space.”
“I’ll sleep on a folding bed! I won’t bother you at all!”
“Lilia Viktorovna, my answer is no. I’m sorry.”
“Polina, I’m begging you! I feel so bad alone! My blood pressure keeps rising, my head spins, I’m scared!”
“Then you should see a doctor.”
“You are cruel!” the older woman suddenly shouted. “Heartless! Nikitushka was right about you!”
Polina ended the call.
Her hands were shaking. A dull irritation was growing inside her. She was so tired of it. Tired of the constant manipulation, the whining, the emotional blackmail.
That evening, Nikita caused a scandal.
He shouted, stormed around the apartment, and waved his arms.
“She was crying! You made my mother cry!”
“I didn’t do anything,” Polina replied calmly. “I simply told the truth.”
“What truth? That you’re a selfish woman who doesn’t care about family?”
“Nikita, your mother is not my family. My family is you. And even that is now questionable.”
“How dare you?”
He grabbed a cup from the table and threw it into the sink. It shattered with a sharp crash.
Polina did not even flinch. She simply looked at her husband with cold eyes.
“If you break every dish in this apartment, will that change anything?” she asked.
Nikita breathed heavily. Then he turned around and went into the room, slamming the door behind him.
The following days became a nightmare.
Every evening, Nikita started another argument. He accused his wife of destroying the family, of cruelty, of selfishness. Polina tried to stay calm, but her strength was running out. She woke up with headaches. At work, she could not concentrate. The moment she came home, she felt the tension waiting for her.
On Wednesday, her husband moved on to blackmail.
“If you don’t agree, I’ll leave,” Nikita said, looking directly into her eyes.
“Where will you go?”
“To my mother. And I’ll file for divorce.”
Polina sat down on the sofa.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. I can’t live without my mother. If you don’t accept her, then you don’t accept me.”
“Nikita, do you hear yourself? You’re a grown man, but you’re behaving like a child.”
“I’m behaving like a son who cares about his mother! And you’re behaving like a stranger!”
Polina listened to his threats in silence.
She looked at her husband and realized something painful: she was losing respect for him. Quickly. Irreversibly.
Nikita had turned into a hysterical little boy who was ready to abandon his wife for the whims of his mother.
On Saturday, when Polina returned from the gym, she found Lilia Viktorovna standing at the door.
Her mother-in-law had two huge bags with her and a pleased smile on her face.
“Polinochka! I decided to come after all! I’ll stay for a day or two!”
Polina looked at Nikita. He stood beside his mother, avoiding her eyes.
“Lilia Viktorovna, I already told you this is impossible.”
“Oh, come on!” The older woman walked into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. “It’s only for a couple of days!”
Lilia Viktorovna put her bags in the hallway, went into the kitchen, and dropped onto the sofa.
“Oh, I’m exhausted from the trip! Nikitushka, bring me some water!”
Polina stood in the doorway, feeling anger boil inside her.
“Lilia Viktorovna, you cannot stay here,” she said coldly.
“Why not?” her mother-in-law frowned. “I’m Nikita’s mother! I have the right!”
“This is my apartment. And I did not give you permission.”
“Polina!” Nikita cut in. “Enough! My mother is spending the night here, and that’s final!”
“No,” Polina replied. “She is not.”
A massive scandal erupted.
Nikita shouted, accusing his wife of cruelty. Lilia Viktorovna sobbed and clutched at her heart. Polina stood in the middle of the kitchen with a stone-cold face, feeling something inside her finally break.
“Take your bags and leave,” Polina told her mother-in-law.
“How dare you!” Lilia Viktorovna shrieked. “Nikitushka, do you hear how she’s talking to me?”
“Polina, shut up!” Nikita roared.
His wife looked at him.
For a long moment. Carefully. Silently.
Then she turned around, walked into the room, and closed the door behind her. She sat down on the sofa. Her hands were trembling.
Half an hour later, Lilia Viktorovna left in tears. Nikita walked his mother to a taxi and returned with a dark expression. He passed his wife without looking at her and threw a pillow and blanket onto the armchair.
“I’ll sleep here,” he muttered.
Polina said nothing.
For the next few days, Nikita ignored her demonstratively. He slept in the fold-out chair. He refused to speak. He cooked separately for himself. He watched TV late into the night, deliberately turning the volume up.
He created the atmosphere of a cold war.
Polina was exhausted.
Exhausted by the absurd theater. By the manipulation. By the blackmail. By the feeling that she was no longer living her own life.
On Wednesday evening, Nikita changed tactics. He approached his wife with tears in his eyes.
“Polina, forgive me. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. I’m just worried about Mom.”
His wife lifted her eyes from her book.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Let’s find a compromise. Mom will stay for a month. Just one month. During that time, she’ll find another apartment and move closer. Polina, please.”
“No.”
“But why?”
“Because I don’t believe it. One month will turn into six. Six months will turn into a year. Your mother will move in and never leave.”
“It’s temporary! I promise!”
“Nikita, I don’t trust your promises anymore. I’m sorry.”
He dropped to his knees in front of her.
“Polina, I’m begging you! What does it cost you?”
Polina moved away.
“Get up. Don’t humiliate yourself.”
“I’ll do anything! Just let Mom stay!”
“No.”
Nikita jumped to his feet, his face twisted with anger.
“Then you are no wife of mine!”
“Maybe,” Polina agreed.
He left again, slamming the door.
Polina returned to her book, but the words no longer reached her mind.
On Friday, Nikita brought his final argument.
“Mom is being kicked out of her apartment,” he announced from the doorway. “In a week. The landlord is selling the place.”
Polina put down her phone.
“And?”
“What do you mean, and? She’ll end up on the street!”
“Then she can rent another apartment.”
“She doesn’t have money for rent and a deposit! Her pension is tiny!”
“Then she can move outside the city. It’s cheaper there.”
“Polina!” Nikita twisted his hands helplessly. “Do you even understand what you’re saying? An elderly woman will be homeless! Do you have a conscience?”
Polina stood up from the sofa. She walked over to her husband and looked directly into his eyes.
“You wanted to live with your mother? Wonderful. Then go live with her — just not in my apartment.”
Nikita froze.
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. He could not believe what he had just heard.
“What did you say?”
“I said: pack your things and move out. Go to your mother. Live together. Be happy.”
“You… you’re throwing me out?”
“I’m asking you to leave. Yes.”
“Polina, is this a joke?”
“No. I’m completely serious. You have two days to collect your things.”
Nikita tried to argue. To shout. To threaten again.
But then he saw something new in his wife’s eyes. Unshakable firmness. Resolve.
He understood that he had crossed the line. He had gone much too far.
“Fine,” Nikita breathed out. “If that’s how it is, I’m leaving. But you’ll regret this.”
“Maybe,” Polina nodded. “But this is my decision.”
Two days later, her husband packed his belongings.
He stuffed clothes into two suitcases, took his laptop and documents. He stood in the doorway, looking at his wife with the hope that she would change her mind.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Nikita asked.
“Yes,” Polina answered.
“You’re cruel.”
“Maybe.”
He slammed the door behind him.
Polina remained standing in the middle of the apartment. The silence fell suddenly, almost deafeningly.
She walked into the room and sat on the sofa. She looked around. None of her husband’s things were there anymore. No signs of his presence.
A strange wave of relief washed over her.
As if she had finally taken off a heavy backpack after a long, exhausting journey.
A week later, Polina filed for divorce.
She filled out the application and took it to court. The procedure turned out to be simple: they had no children and nothing to divide. The apartment had been bought before the marriage and was registered in Polina’s name. Nikita made no claims.
A month passed.
Then he began calling. Sending messages. Apologizing.
“Polina, forgive me. I was an idiot.”
“Let’s talk. Please.”
“I miss you.”
“Mom won’t interfere anymore. I promise.”
Polina did not answer.
She deleted the messages. Declined the calls.
Then Nikita started coming to her building. He waited near the entrance and tried to speak to her.
“Polina, just give me a chance!”
She walked past without stopping.
“Polina! I’ve changed! Honestly!”
Polina remained silent and kept walking.
She had no desire to humiliate herself with explanations. The decision had been made. Finally. Irrevocably.
The divorce was finalized two months later.
The judge read the decision aloud. Nikita sat across from her, downcast. Polina listened and felt nothing. No relief, no joy, no sadness. Only emptiness.
After the hearing, her former husband tried to approach her.
“Polina, maybe we could go somewhere? Talk normally?”
“No,” Polina replied. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“At least coffee?”
“Nikita, it’s over. Accept it.”
Polina turned and walked away. Nikita remained standing in the courthouse corridor, watching her leave.
Life after the divorce turned out to be… different.
Polina returned to herself. To the woman she had been before marriage.
She signed up for yoga. Started going to the theater. Met with friends she had neglected during her married years. Began planning a trip to Europe.
The apartment filled with silence.
A pleasant, peaceful silence.
No one started scandals. No one slammed doors. No one demanded the impossible from her.
One evening, Polina sat by the window with a cup of tea. Rain drizzled against the glass, and the city glowed with lights outside.
Her phone vibrated. A message came from an unknown number.
“Polina, this is Lilia Viktorovna. I want to apologize for everything. I was wrong. Maybe you and Nikita could try to start over?”
Polina read the message.
She smiled faintly, deleted it, and blocked the number.
Life went on.
Noisy, unpredictable, full of possibilities.
And Polina was its owner now.
No manipulation. No blackmail. No strangers invading her space.
Freedom turned out to be worth far more than any attempt to preserve a dead marriage.
Polina had not understood that right away.
But now she understood it completely.
And she had no intention of stepping back.
Six months passed.
Polina renovated the apartment. She changed the wallpaper, painted the walls a soft beige, and bought a new sofa. She cleared the last traces of Nikita from the closets: a forgotten T-shirt, an old pair of sneakers, a phone charger.
The apartment transformed.
It became different.
Bright. Spacious. Hers.
Her friend Vera came over with wine and fruit.
“Polinka, you did the right thing,” Vera said, looking around the renovated apartment. “Not every woman would have the courage to put such a firm end to it.”
Polina poured her friend a glass of wine.
“You know, I realized something. When you live with a person who doesn’t respect your boundaries, you start losing yourself. Slowly. Quietly. And then one day, you wake up and don’t recognize the person in the mirror.”
“And now?”
“Now I know who I am again. What I want. What I don’t want. And no one is going to dictate terms to me anymore.”
The friends clinked glasses and drank.
Then Vera suddenly asked:
“Does Nikita still call you?”
“He stopped a month ago. I suppose he finally understood it was useless.”
“That’s good.”
Polina walked to the window and looked out at the city spread below. Lights, cars, people. Life was moving, never stopping for a second.
And Polina was part of it.
Not her husband’s shadow.
Not the victim of her mother-in-law’s manipulation.
But herself.
Free. Independent. Alive.
And that was the best decision she had ever made.