My mother-in-law had already brought over an estimate for repairs at the country house and was talking about my money as though everything had been settled. Igor was counting on one thing: I wouldn’t contradict him in front of strangers.
“I forbid you to renovate your apartment. Mom is against it,” Igor declared, pushing his cup away.
He was sitting opposite me at the kitchen table. Between us lay the contract with the renovation crew and a list of everything that needed to be purchased before Monday.
I had just told him that Sergei would arrive at nine with two workers. They would begin by removing the old wallpaper and bathroom tiles. Afterward, the electrician would deal with the wiring.
I put down my pen.
“What does your mother have to do with this?”
“I stopped by her place today. We discussed everything.”
I immediately disliked the confidence behind that “we.”
“What exactly did you discuss?”
“This apartment doesn’t need renovating right now. The country house needs the money more.”
 
“Your country house?”
“Our family’s country house, Lena,” he corrected me pointedly. “The veranda roof is leaking, and two windows need replacing. Mom can’t afford all that by herself.”
I closed the folder.
The electrical wiring in my grandmother’s apartment was nearly as old as our marriage. The outlet in the hallway was hanging on by a single screw. In the kitchen, we had long since stopped switching on the kettle and microwave at the same time. The seam around the pipe near the bathtub had turned dark again during the winter.
I wasn’t planning to turn the apartment into a palace. I simply wanted to put it in decent condition and stop patching up the same problems year after year.
“And what does any of that have to do with my contract with the renovation crew?”
“It has everything to do with money.” Igor tapped the table with his finger. “You’re about to waste it all on walls and tiles, even though this place is perfectly livable.”
“It is. But I don’t want to live like this anymore.”
Igor shook his head and smiled condescendingly, as though we were discussing a new color for the curtains.
“Nothing will happen to your apartment before spring. It isn’t going to collapse.”
“The crew starts on Monday.”
“Then you’ll call and cancel.”
I looked him directly in the eyes.
“And why would I do that?”
“Because it’s the sensible thing to do. I’m against the renovation, and so is Mom.”
That was when he said the word “forbid.”
What bothered me most wasn’t even the word itself. It was how naturally his mother’s opinion had been placed beside his—as though those two statements were enough to erase my contract, my plans, and the weeks I had spent preparing.
I slowly nodded.
“I’ve heard you.”
 
Igor leaned back in his chair with visible relief.
“That’s my smart girl. For once, we managed without one of your endless arguments.”
He got up and went into the living room.
I remained at the table.
My relationship with Tamara Pavlovna had never been easy. She enjoyed advising us on which washing machine to buy, where to spend our vacations, and whether it was worth replacing a sofa if the old one “hadn’t fallen apart yet.”
Igor usually began with the same words: “Mom would never give us bad advice.”
I argued sometimes. Other times, I gave in simply because the issue wasn’t worth enduring two evenings of sulking faces.
That was probably why Igor now believed the matter had been settled.
I reopened the folder and checked the crew’s scheduled arrival time.
I didn’t cancel anything.
Tamara Pavlovna came over on Saturday afternoon. It clearly wasn’t going to be a quick visit. She carried a transparent folder under her arm, and I knew what was inside it before she even sat down.
“Lenochka, I’ve calculated everything,” my mother-in-law announced from the doorway, placing two densely written pages on the table. “Here are the windows, and here is the veranda. If we don’t choose the most expensive materials, it will fit comfortably within our budget.”
She pushed the papers toward me in a businesslike manner. The pages contained measurements, prices, and the phone numbers of two contractors. One item was marked, “Price valid until the end of the month.”
Igor leaned against the refrigerator with his arms crossed. He looked as if the three of us were reviewing a joint project that needed only final approval.
“See?” he said. “I told you Mom doesn’t make empty claims. She’s worked everything out.”
“When did you have time to calculate all this?”
Tamara Pavlovna adjusted her glasses.
“What difference does it make when? Igor came by yesterday, and we worked it out together. You’re postponing your renovation anyway, so we decided to see how much we could get done at the country house before the cold weather arrives.”
“And who decided I was postponing it?”
My mother-in-law raised her carefully drawn eyebrows in surprise.
“Igor said the two of you discussed everything yesterday.”
“We did. I told him I had heard what he said.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean I agreed to give you my money.”
Igor immediately pushed himself away from the refrigerator.
“Lena, don’t start this. Stop picking at individual words.”
“I’m not picking at words, Igor. I’m clarifying the facts.”
Tamara Pavlovna sighed theatrically and straightened the papers.
“I honestly don’t understand why you’re creating a problem out of nothing. Your apartment isn’t going anywhere. You can put up new wallpaper in the spring. But if water starts running down the walls of the country house, the repairs will cost twice as much!”
“I’m not denying that the country house needs repairs.”
“Then what are we even arguing about?” my mother-in-law exclaimed, throwing up her hands.
“We’re discussing why the two of you have already allocated the money I saved for my own apartment.”
She stared at me with genuine, completely undisguised astonishment.
“What do you mean, ‘your money,’ Lena? You’re a family. Your budget is shared.”
 
Igor pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at me triumphantly.
“Exactly! That’s what I was trying to explain to you yesterday.”
“No, Igor. You weren’t explaining anything. You simply told me I wasn’t allowed to do it.”
“Because sometimes someone has to make sensible decisions for the family instead of stubbornly digging in their heels over some old tiles!”
Tamara Pavlovna gently placed a hand over his sleeve.
“Don’t get worked up, Seryo—Igoryok. Lena is simply nervous after all these preparations.”
I looked down at her estimate.
Until that moment, part of me had still believed Igor had spoken rashly. I thought we would have a normal conversation, he would grumble, and I would explain why the renovation mattered to me. Then the issue would be resolved.
But they had already chosen contractors. They had found out the prices. They had decided that my Monday renovation had been canceled.
My consent wasn’t the first item in their plan. It wasn’t even the last.
It wasn’t there at all.
I carefully pushed the papers back to the edge of the table.
“I’ve seen the figures. But I never promised you money for the country house, and I’m not giving you any.”
My mother-in-law pursed her lips in offense.
“Of course not. You can always find money for your personal comfort, but when your family needs help during a difficult moment, suddenly it’s none of your concern.”
“Mom, please don’t,” Igor drawled, but his protest was so weak that it sounded more like encouragement.
“What do you mean, ‘Mom’? I’m only telling the truth!”
She swept the papers back into the folder and rose. In the hallway, while putting on her coat, Tamara Pavlovna turned toward me.
“Think it over by tomorrow, Lena. I’d hate for us to remember later who behaved how when their relatives needed help.”
The moment the door closed behind her, Igor returned to the kitchen. His face had darkened.
 
“Why did you have to put on that ridiculous performance?”
“What performance?”
“You made Mom look like she was trying to steal your last penny!”
“What exactly was she trying to do, Igor?”
“She was suggesting a sensible solution! She’s doing it for our benefit.”
“With contractors, prices, and deadlines that the two of you approved behind my back?”
“Because someone in this family has to think ahead!” he shouted.
“Do you truly not understand the difference between suggesting an option and deciding everything at my expense?”
He fell silent and stared at me heavily.
“All I see is you making everything more difficult out of sheer stupidity and stubbornness.”
I didn’t bother explaining any further. It wasn’t because he couldn’t hear me.
He heard every word. He simply didn’t consider my words a decision.
At around seven on Sunday evening, I called Sergei.
Igor was in the other room. The moment he heard whom I was speaking to, he appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Good evening, Sergei. Everything is still going ahead tomorrow. Nine o’clock, as agreed.”
“Yes, Elena Viktorovna,” his voice replied through the speaker. “I’ll come with two workers. We’ll start with the demolition. We’ll bring our own protective sheeting and debris bags.”
“Perfect. I’ll be home.”
I placed the phone on the table. Igor stood in the doorway with his arms folded.
“What did you just do?”
“I confirmed that the crew is coming tomorrow.”
“I told you in plain Russian to cancel it.”
“You did.”
“And?”
“And I listened to you very carefully.”
 
He gave a bitter laugh.
“There’s that favorite phrase of yours again.”
“Because for some reason, you decided that when I say it, I’m automatically saluting and agreeing to obey.”
In two strides, Igor crossed the kitchen and loomed over me.
“Lena, I’m not going to repeat myself a second time. Tomorrow, I won’t let them through the door.”
“This is my apartment, and I’ll be here.”
“What difference does that make?” He jerked one shoulder. “I’ll open the door myself and tell your precious workers that everything has been canceled.”
“They’ll call my mobile.”
“And I’ll clearly explain that our family circumstances have suddenly changed and that renovations are no longer a priority.”
“You don’t need to explain anything on my behalf.”
“I live here too!” he nearly shouted.
“You do.”
“Then I have every right to decide what happens here and what doesn’t!”
“You have the right to discuss it.”
He shoved the saltshaker sharply across the table.
“So I don’t have the right to decide?”
“You don’t have the right to cancel my personal contract behind my back.”
Igor looked at me as though I had suddenly begun speaking Chinese.
“You’re deliberately provoking me into an argument.”
“I’m simply not canceling anything. You’re the one planning to make a scene in front of the workers tomorrow.”
“A scene?”
He let out a short, barking laugh.
“All right. We’ll see what you say when three strange men are standing around in the hallway and we start arguing in front of them. You can’t stand airing our dirty laundry in public.”
He was right about that.
I truly hated family disputes in front of strangers. I hated raised voices carrying through the thin front door, the curious looks from neighbors, and personal details becoming gossip in the elevator.
Igor knew that.
And that was exactly what he was counting on.
“Then tomorrow, we’ll try not to keep the workers waiting,” I answered calmly.
He narrowed his eyes, already anticipating victory.
 
“We’ll see.”
At five minutes to nine on Monday morning, Igor was already dressed—not for work, but in casual trousers and a T-shirt. He stood in the hallway as if he were waiting for an inspection committee.
I moved the shoe cabinet out of the way and placed a box of electrical outlets, which had been delivered on Saturday, beside the wall.
At exactly nine o’clock, the doorbell rang briefly.
Igor opened the door first and blocked the entrance with his body. Sergei and two workers stood on the landing. One was holding a toolbox, while the other carried a roll of protective plastic.
“Good morning,” Sergei greeted him, glancing over my husband’s shoulder. “Is Elena Viktorovna home?”
“There won’t be any work,” Igor said sharply.
Sergei’s smile disappeared as he studied him.
“Has the job been canceled?”
“Exactly. Our family circumstances have changed. You don’t even need to unload your equipment.”
I came out of the room and entered the hallway.
“Good morning, Sergei. Please come in.”
Without even turning toward me, Igor continued blocking the doorway.
“I’ve already explained everything to them. They’re leaving.”
Sergei looked at me questioningly.
“Elena Viktorovna, are we canceling the demolition or not?”
“No. We’re starting as planned.”
One of the workers lowered his heavy toolbox onto the concrete landing with a thud. The other froze with the roll of plastic in his hands.
Igor spun around.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Completely.”
“I told you in plain Russian yesterday that I was against this!”
“You did.”
“And now you’re putting on this circus in front of strangers?”
I looked at the foreman.
“Sergei, I apologize for the delay. Just give us one minute.”
He nodded calmly.
“That’s fine. I only need to know the final decision regarding the job.”
Igor stepped toward the threshold and towered threateningly over Sergei.
 
“I’m her husband. I live here too. Isn’t that enough for you to turn around and leave?”
“I understand that,” Sergei replied evenly. “But the contract and estimate were signed by Elena Viktorovna. If the client tells us the job is canceled, we leave. If the client says we’re working, we work. I don’t interfere in family matters.”
“How convenient,” Igor said through clenched teeth.
“It isn’t about convenience. It’s about the contract.”
Sergei nodded toward the toolbox at his worker’s feet.
“We need a clear answer. Are we taking the equipment into the apartment, or are we loading it back into the van?”
Igor remained planted in the doorway.
A door slammed on the floor above us. Someone began walking down the stairs. Only yesterday, that sound alone would have been enough to make me ask the workers to return later—anything to finish our family dispute before someone witnessed it.
Igor knew that.
But now we were no longer discussing whether Tamara Pavlovna’s estimate was reasonable or whether I could tolerate the old tiles until spring.
The question was much simpler.
Had I canceled the renovation?
No.
“Igor, please move away from the door.”
He didn’t budge.
“So you’ve decided to show everyone, right in front of these strange men, who’s in charge and whose money it is?”
“No. I’ve simply decided not to confirm something that never happened. I did not cancel my renovation.”
“So you don’t care about my opinion?”
“I know your opinion perfectly well.”
“And that’s it?” His hands curled into fists.
“No. We’ll discuss our marriage and your mother separately, without witnesses. But Sergei and his crew didn’t come here for that. Let them inside.”
Igor cast an almost desperate glance at the workers before looking back at me.
“You’re making me look like an idiot.”
 
“I’m not making you look like anything. You came out here and told these people that my decision had been overruled. I merely told them that it hadn’t.”
He opened his mouth to argue again, but I didn’t let him seize control of the conversation.
“I nodded on Friday because I understood what you said—not because I had agreed to give my money away for a veranda. My exact words were, ‘I’ve heard you.’ That was all.”
For several long seconds, Igor stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. Then, with an almost hateful expression, he stepped sharply aside.
“Fine! Do whatever the hell you want in here!”
Sergei immediately turned to his crew.
“All right, guys. Bring everything in.”
They silently entered the apartment—without smiles, unnecessary comments, or any attempt to determine who had won.
Sergei paused beside me.
“Elena Viktorovna, are we starting with the bathroom, as planned?”
“Yes. And please ask the electrician to inspect the hallway before all the wallpaper is removed.”
“We’ll take care of it.”
Igor disappeared into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
A few minutes later, protective plastic rustled loudly in the hallway. The workers discussed where to stack the removed baseboards while I took the printed electrical plan out of the folder.
 
The bedroom door opened again. Igor appeared on the threshold.
“You do understand that our conversation isn’t over?” he said through clenched teeth.
I turned toward him calmly.
“The conversation about us isn’t over.”
He stood still, waiting for me to continue.
“But the conversation about the renovation is finished once and for all.”
From inside the bathroom, Sergei’s voice rang out.
“Elena Viktorovna, could you come here for a moment? We need you to look at this pipe!”
“I’m coming!”
I picked up the plan and walked toward the foreman without looking back at my husband.