“Be ready by five on Saturday,” Oleg said without even taking off his jacket. “And get to my parents’ place earlier. Mom can’t manage everything alone. She needs help with the salads, the main dishes, and setting the table.”
Marina turned around. Oleg wasn’t asking whether she wanted to go. He had already decided when she would arrive and what she would do in the kitchen.
“I’m not going,” she said.
Oleg had bent down to untie his shoes, but now he looked up.
“What?”
“I’m not going to your parents’ house. Not at five, not earlier, and not later.”
He straightened, took off his jacket, and threw it over the back of a chair.
“Marina, don’t start. It’s Dad’s anniversary. There’ll be a lot of people, and Mom is already stressed.”
“And you think I’ve been relaxing at a resort?”
“What does this have to do with you?” He was already frowning. “This is about family. We’re supposed to be there.”
She put her cup down so sharply that the spoon rattled against the side.
 
“We—or me?”
Marina immediately remembered the last family celebration.
Back then, Tamara Petrovna had also asked her to “help a little.” Almost the entire extended family had gathered at the country house: Oleg’s sister and her children, an aunt from Yaroslavl, a cousin, some neighbors, and several family friends. Before they even arrived, her mother-in-law listed Marina’s duties: prepare the meat and vegetables, set the table in the gazebo, organize the dishes and cake, and keep an eye on the children.
Oleg sat behind the wheel and simply nodded.
Marina joked that it sounded as though she had been hired as an assistant. Nobody laughed.
“You’re so quick at these things,” Oleg had said.
As soon as they arrived, Tamara Petrovna sent the men to the grill and Marina to the kitchen.
That was how Marina spent almost the entire day, running between the kitchen and the gazebo. She chopped salads, carried plates, wiped up spilled juice, collected empty bottles, and kept the children away from the cake. Oleg’s sister sat with the guests. The men cooked the barbecue and then joined everyone at the table.
Marina ate a few hurried bites while standing beside the sink.
That evening, Tamara Petrovna began criticizing her in front of everyone. First it was the amount of mayonnaise in the salad, then Marina’s dress, and finally the dust in her apartment. When Marina asked her not to discuss her in front of the guests, her mother-in-law replied:
“If you were a decent homemaker, nobody would have to teach you. We didn’t raise our son for a woman like you.”
Someone laughed awkwardly. Others looked away.
Oleg sat there holding a shot glass and said, “Mom, you don’t have to be so harsh… although you’re right about some things.”
Marina called a taxi and left alone. Oleg returned home near dawn and was angry with her for ruining the celebration.
Afterward, Marina told him plainly that she would never attend another gathering at his parents’ house under those conditions.
“Yes, I mean you,” Oleg finally admitted, as though there had been no pause in their conversation. “We need you in the kitchen. Mom can’t handle a table that large by herself, and ordering catering now would be ridiculous. Why pay strangers when the family can do everything together?”
Marina gave a short, bitter laugh.
“At least you’re being honest now. It isn’t ‘we need to be together.’ It’s ‘we need you in the kitchen.’”
“Stop twisting my words.”
“I’m twisting them? Last time, your mother treated me like a servant. Then she humiliated me in front of your entire family, and you agreed with her. Now you want to take me there early so I can stand over the stove while the rest of you celebrate.”
“You exaggerate everything, as usual,” Oleg snapped. “It was a normal family gathering. You could have helped, and that would have been the end of it. My mother is almost twice your age.”
“And does that mean my self-respect matters only half as much?”
Oleg walked into the living room and stopped in front of her.
“Here’s how it’s going to be,” he said, stressing every word. “We are going on Saturday. End of discussion. You live in an apartment my parents helped us buy ten years ago. The least you can do is show a little gratitude.”
Marina straightened.
“We repaid every penny. You know that perfectly well.”
“We paid them back because I worked myself to death.”
“Because both of us worked. And I covered most of the final payment with my bonus.”
 
“Oh, here we go,” he drawled contemptuously. “Now you’re going to say you’ve accomplished everything in life all by yourself.”
Marina had heard this before. His parents had lent them the money ten years ago, and the debt had been repaid long ago. Yet Oleg still brought it up whenever it suited him.
He stepped closer.
“I honestly don’t understand why you’re being so difficult. You live in a nice apartment and drive a car that, by the way, I mostly pay for. Yet you can’t even pretend to respect my family.”
“Respect can’t be pretended,” Marina said quietly. “Especially in a place where no one respects you.”
“You’ve made yourself into a permanent victim,” he retorted. “Everyone uses you, everyone hurts you, and you’re always the poor, miserable one.”
Marina was tired of the same pattern. First, she was told to endure something for the family. Then she was accused of taking it too personally.
She stepped toward him, and her voice rose into a shout.
“No! I’m not going to your parents’ house with you ever again, Oleg! Last time was enough. Your mother treated me like her personal servant, and then she insulted me in front of your entire family. Instead of defending me, you stood there and agreed with her!”
Oleg remained silent for several seconds.
“So what?” he finally muttered. “You’ve turned a couple of comments into some enormous tragedy.”
“A couple of comments? Your mother called me a bad homemaker, criticized my appearance, and announced that she hadn’t raised her son for ‘a woman like me.’”
“Because you really are a terrible homemaker!” Oleg suddenly shouted. “The apartment is a mess every other day. Dinner is either takeout or something frozen. And if you want the truth, Mom is right. You’ve let yourself go lately. You’re always tired and dissatisfied, and you’ve aged before your time. Who else would want you with a personality like yours?”
Oleg realized he had gone too far, but he refused to back down.
“There it is,” Marina said. “You’ve finally said it in your own voice instead of your mother’s.”
“And what if it’s true?” he continued, growing more furious. “Do you imagine men are lining up for you? With your tantrums and your arrogance? I’m the only reason you still have this life.”
“You’re keeping me here?” Marina repeated. “Why did you marry me, then? So I could work, pay my share of the expenses, and spend my weekends serving your relatives?”
“Shut your mouth,” he hissed.
“Or what? Will you run to Tamara Petrovna and complain? Or repeat her favorite speech about how ungrateful I am?”
Oleg clenched his fists.
“You’re always using money against me whenever you want to force me to do something,” Marina said. “But when your mother humiliates me, you stay silent. That’s the real problem.”
He lunged toward her so quickly that she had no time to step back. He grabbed her upper arm and squeezed hard enough to hurt.
“I told you to shut your mouth!”
“Let go of me!”
She tried to pull away, but Oleg, no longer listening to either her or himself, shoved her toward the sofa. Marina lost her balance, struck her shoulder against the armrest, and fell onto the cushions. For several seconds, she couldn’t breathe.
“If you keep resisting me, I’ll cure you of your precious principles,” Oleg yelled over her. “If you don’t go on Saturday, I’ll block every one of your cards. Do you hear me? Every single one. And I’ll stop paying for the car. Spend a week without money, and you’ll quickly learn how to speak to me.”
Marina pressed her hand to her aching shoulder and looked at him.
“In that case,” she said, “you can crawl back to Mommy and stay there forever.”
His face twisted with rage. He turned and punched the bathroom door so hard that the white enamel dented and cracked near the handle. Then he snatched up his keys.
“You won’t see another penny from me!” he shouted from the hallway. “Let’s see what you have to say after a week!”
The front door slammed with enough force to make the glass in the cabinet rattle.
Marina remained on the sofa for several minutes. Her shoulder throbbed, and finger-shaped marks were already appearing on her arm. In the bathroom mirror, she saw her disheveled hair and the growing bruise. Then she noticed the dent in the door.
She photographed her arm and the damaged door before calling Lena, a friend from her previous job.
“Marina?” Lena answered sleepily. “Why are you calling so late?”
Marina briefly explained the argument, the shove, and Oleg’s financial threats.
“I’m coming over right now,” Lena said immediately.
“You don’t have to. I’m all right.”
“You’re not all right. Did he hit you?”
“He pushed me. He grabbed me and threatened to cut me off financially.”
 
Lena fell silent for a moment.
“Photograph your arm and the door. Go to an emergency clinic tomorrow and have the injuries documented. Check your papers, your cards, and your access to the bank as well. After something like this, you can’t assume it will simply blow over.”
“I always thought he’d never go beyond shouting.”
“Now you know that he can.”
That night, Marina checked her banking apps and changed all her passwords. There was enough money in the joint account for her to remain independent of Oleg for a while.
Then she found the car documents, the loan repayment schedule, and some old statements. The car was registered in her name, and the monthly payment came from her salary account. Oleg had transferred money from his card several times, but that hardly made the car his personal achievement.
She also found proof of the repayments they had made to Oleg’s parents for the apartment. They had transferred money for several years and settled the remaining balance almost a decade ago. In an old message, Oleg himself had written to his mother:
“Mom, I’ve transferred the final amount. Thank you for everything. We don’t owe you anything anymore.”
Marina saved copies of all the statements.
Oleg returned in the morning, smelling of cigarettes. Marina was already sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.
He noticed the bruise on her arm and looked away.
“How long are you going to sulk?” he asked with exaggerated weariness. “I lost my temper yesterday too.”
“You threw me onto the sofa and threatened to leave me without money.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” he said with a grimace. “Nobody hit you. We both got carried away. You provoked me too.”
Marina slowly put down her cup.
“So now it’s my fault?”
“It isn’t about fault. You just need to learn when to keep your mouth shut.”
Marina looked at him. He wasn’t merely making excuses. He still genuinely believed that she was responsible for making him angry.
“I’m not going anywhere on Saturday,” she said.
Oleg exhaled loudly.
“Do you hear anyone but yourself? I already told you that Dad is expecting guests. It’s too late and too expensive to order food.”
“That isn’t my problem.”
“It absolutely is. You’re my wife.”
“A wife is not free labor for your mother.”
“Here we go again.”
When Oleg went to shower, Marina made an appointment at the emergency clinic, told her employer she would be working from home, and contacted a lawyer whose number a colleague had once given her.
Around noon, Tamara Petrovna called.
Marina decided to answer.
“Yes?”
“Marina, what have you done now?” her mother-in-law began immediately. “Oleg says you’re throwing another tantrum. It’s his father’s anniversary. We have guests coming, and I’m all alone.”
“I won’t be coming, Tamara Petrovna.”
“You won’t?” her mother-in-law repeated as if she had heard something outrageously offensive. “Then who is going to help me? You’re young. You have two hands and two legs.”
“That isn’t my responsibility.”
“Responsibility!” Tamara Petrovna scoffed. “Are you part of this family or not? We helped your marriage and helped you buy that apartment. Yet we can’t get one evening’s assistance from you.”
“You didn’t give us that help for free. We repaid everything.”
“So that’s how you’re speaking now? You returned the money, and suddenly we’re not family? Now you don’t have to respect your elders? No wonder you drive Oleg out of his mind. There’s no way to deal with you nicely.”
“You have never spoken to me nicely.”
“That’s because your arrogance is unbelievable. You can’t do anything properly, yet you behave like a queen. At your age, I worked, took care of the home, raised a child, and respected my elders.”
In the past, Marina would have tried to defend herself. This time, she didn’t.
“I won’t be there on Saturday. And please stop discussing me with Oleg as though you can simply assign me to kitchen duty.”
“Who’s assigning you?” her mother-in-law shrieked. “You should know your place without being told!”
Marina ended the call.
Ten minutes later, Oleg burst into the room with his phone in his hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. “Why were you rude to my mother?”
 
“I wasn’t rude.”
“She’s crying because of you!”
“That’s unfortunate. Yesterday, I went flying onto the sofa because of you.”
Oleg stopped.
“You’re deliberately making everything worse. You’re trying to turn me against my parents.”
“No. I want you to stop pretending that I am responsible for their behavior.”
Oleg rolled his eyes.
“I’m sick of this drama. You will get ready and go on Saturday. That’s final. If you can’t do it for me, do it for my father. It’s his anniversary.”
“If you cared about your father’s celebration, you could order food without humiliating me.”
“We don’t have extra money to waste on nonsense.”
Marina remembered his new car rims, the phone he had replaced the previous autumn, and his regular nights out with friends. There was always money for those things. But when it came to food for his father’s celebration, they suddenly needed Marina’s unpaid labor.
“You have extra money for new rims, drinks with your friends, and the phone you bought last fall,” she said calmly. “But you can’t spend money to keep me out of a house where I’m humiliated. I understand.”
He walked over to the table and planted both hands on the countertop.
“Listen carefully. If you dig your heels in now, I really will stop contributing to our joint expenses. Then you can live however you want.”
“So if I refuse to go to your mother’s house, you’ll stop paying your share of our household bills?”
“Don’t twist it. Things should be fair. If you refuse to support me, why should I pay for all your little luxuries?”
Marina stared at him for several seconds.
“You’re trying to force me to go by threatening me financially.”
At the clinic, Marina was diagnosed with a bruised shoulder and an abrasion. She kept the medical report with the photographs.
Afterward, she met Lena near the metro station.
“Are you planning to stay with him?” Lena asked.
Marina stirred her coffee.
“A week ago, I would have said I didn’t know. Now I understand that if I bury this again, nothing will ever change.”
“Then decide what you’re going to do.”
“I’ve already seen a doctor, gathered my documents, and contacted a lawyer.”
Lena nodded.
“Where will you stay if you leave?”
“Aunt Svetlana has a spare room. I can stay with her, and the commute to work won’t be too difficult.”
Marina still remembered the good parts of her marriage. Oleg had once met her at the train station, driven across town at night to buy her medicine, and helped her finish a report when she was ill. During their first years together, they had painted walls, chosen a car, counted every coin until payday, and laughed about how their evenings had become endless conversations about repairs.
That was what made the decision so difficult.
But over the past several years, whenever Marina had a disagreement with Tamara Petrovna, Oleg always asked his wife to give in. At first, it was “just for one evening.” Then it was “for Dad’s sake.” After that, it was “because Mom is older.” His relatives made demands, and Marina was expected to obey.
On Saturday morning, Oleg prepared to leave for his parents’ house. He called his mother and slammed cabinet doors while searching for his things. Marina came out of the bedroom fully dressed. Her suitcase stood beside the wardrobe.
Oleg didn’t notice it immediately.
“Why have you packed your things?” he asked.
 
“Because I won’t be living here after today.”
He froze with a tie in his hand.
“What kind of performance is this?”
“It isn’t a performance. I’m leaving.”
Oleg gave her a crooked smile.
“And where are you going to go? What exactly do you think you can rely on?”
“Myself.”
“That’s funny.” He threw the tie onto an armchair. “You’re just blackmailing me. Do you think I’m going to come running and apologize?”
“I no longer need the kind of apology you’re capable of giving.”
“What kind do you want?” he challenged.
Marina looked at him.
“I needed you to acknowledge one simple fact: you grabbed me, pushed me, and threatened me with money because I refused to go to your mother’s house. Instead, you’ve spent two days telling me I provoked you. That’s why I’m leaving.”
“Don’t act like some battered victim. Nobody hit you.”
Marina took the medical report from a folder and placed it on the table.
“I kept everything: the report, the photographs, and the messages. Don’t tell me nothing happened.”
Oleg stared at the paper.
“Are you insane? Are you planning to report me?”
“For now, I’m planning to leave.”
He moved toward her abruptly.
“Enough of this performance. We’re going to my parents’ house now. Afterward, we’ll come back and discuss this calmly.”
“No,” Marina said.
“Why do you have to ruin everything?” he roared. “Because of your stubbornness, Dad’s entire celebration is falling apart! Mom is in tears, there isn’t enough food, people will arrive in three hours, and you’re starting a divorce over nothing!”
 
“It isn’t nothing,” she replied. “You simply expected me to swallow it again, as I always did.”
Oleg took another step toward her.
“Don’t come any closer, and don’t touch me again. Lena knows where I’m going, Aunt Svetlana is expecting me, and copies of the report and photographs have been saved.”
Oleg stopped.
“So that’s it?” he asked hoarsely. “You’re ending everything because of one argument?”
“Not because of one argument. I’ve asked you many times to stop treating me as labor for your family. Yesterday, you also assaulted me.”
The doorbell rang.
Tamara Petrovna stood outside holding a bag.
“What’s happening here?” she demanded before she had even stepped inside. “Oleg, why haven’t you left yet? Marina, are you ready?”
Only then did she notice the suitcase.
“What is that?”
Marina looked at her husband and her mother-in-law. Tamara Petrovna hadn’t even entered the apartment, yet she was already demanding to know why they weren’t ready to leave.
“I’m moving out,” Marina said.
“Moving where?” Tamara Petrovna exclaimed. “There’s a celebration today! Have you lost your mind?”
“For the first time in a while, I think I’ve found it.”
“My God, Oleg, just look at her!” his mother cried, throwing up her hands. “I told you there was something wrong with her character. She has no respect and no conscience. We treated her like our own daughter, and she—”
“You never treated me like a daughter,” Marina interrupted. “You come here and immediately start deciding that I must cook, clean, and remain silent.”
Tamara Petrovna gasped.
“Who ever humiliated you? I made a couple of comments, and you turned them into a tragedy!”
“Oleg will attend the celebration without me.”
“So you’re abandoning him?” Her mother-in-law’s voice became shrill and angry. “After everything we’ve done for you? After the money we gave you for the apartment? You ungrateful woman!”
Marina took out the printed bank statements.
 
“This is the final payment. It was made nine years and eight months ago. We repaid everything. You can stop using that money against me.”
Tamara Petrovna had no answer. Neither did Oleg, although he knew perfectly well that the debt had been settled.
Marina picked up her suitcase.
“I hope you enjoy the anniversary,” she said. “But you’ll celebrate without me.”
As if finally realizing that she was serious, Oleg grabbed the suitcase handle.
“Marina, don’t put on a show in front of my mother.”
She looked at his fingers and then met his eyes.
“Take your hand off it.”
He hesitated for a couple of seconds, then let go.
Marina walked out and closed the door behind her. Her knees trembled in the elevator.
Aunt Svetlana simply hugged her and showed her the spare room. There was an old desk, a folding sofa, and a wardrobe in which her aunt had already cleared two shelves. Marina set down her suitcase and, for the first time that day, understood that she genuinely had somewhere safe to sleep.
That evening, Lena brought over several more bags from the office and some groceries. Marina had an appointment with the lawyer on Monday. She placed the medical report, photographs, and banking documents together in a separate folder.
Late on Saturday evening, Oleg called twelve times. She didn’t answer. Then he sent a voice message.
He sounded angry and exhausted.
“Are you satisfied now? Dad became ill. It wasn’t a heart attack, but his blood pressure shot up. Mom was upset all evening. The guests noticed you weren’t there and started asking questions. I had to make excuses. Now everyone knows we’re having problems.”
Marina listened to the entire recording. Oleg spoke about his father’s blood pressure, his mother’s distress, and the guests’ questions. He never mentioned pushing Marina or threatening her.
Two days later, Oleg wrote to Lena and asked her to “talk some sense” into Marina. Tamara Petrovna also sent a long message filled with accusations and threats concerning the marital property. Marina saved everything.
The divorce took several months. There were discussions about the apartment, the car, and their finances. Sometimes Oleg apologized. Then he blamed Marina again. At other times, he said they could repair the marriage if she would “stop fighting with his mother.”
Marina never spent another night with him.
One day, Oleg brought the rest of her belongings to Aunt Svetlana’s house: her winter coat, a box of books, her coffee maker, and a folder containing work documents. He stood in the courtyard for a long time before speaking.
“I didn’t think you would really leave.”
 
“And I didn’t think you would really push me,” Marina replied.
Their divorce was finalized in the autumn. They agreed to sell the apartment and divide the proceeds. Marina rented a small place closer to work so she wouldn’t have to spend an hour and a half commuting.
For the first few weeks, the apartment contained only a table, a sofa, and two suitcases. Gradually, she bought inexpensive curtains, a kettle, and a proper kitchen lamp. Sorting through boxes and financial papers was exhausting, but at least nobody told her where to go on Saturday, what time to wake up, or how many salads she had to prepare for someone else’s celebration.
Oleg temporarily moved in with his parents. Later, he used his share of the apartment money as a down payment on a new home that was still under construction. Until it was ready, he continued living with Tamara Petrovna.
She monitored when he came home, what he bought, why he hadn’t called during the day, and why he had chosen prepared food instead of eating something homemade. After work, Oleg began spending more and more time sitting in his car outside the building.
His father became quieter after the anniversary. One day, he told his son:
“You should have respected your wife instead of taking her there to work in the kitchen.”
Oleg slammed the door and went outside to smoke, but he didn’t argue.
One evening in November, Marina returned from work carrying a bag of mandarins and a folder of documents. Her rented apartment was peaceful. She put the kettle on, changed her clothes, answered two work messages, and opened the book she had been reading for the past week.
There was enough soup in the refrigerator for two days, and a freshly washed blouse was drying over a chair. It was an ordinary evening—one that didn’t have to be approved by either Oleg or Tamara Petrovna.
Sometimes Marina still felt hurt by the way her marriage had ended. Sometimes she remembered that evening, the bruise on her arm, and the dent in the bathroom door. She also remembered the good years: their trips, the renovations, and the first things they had bought together. Those memories hadn’t disappeared.
 
But Marina had no desire to go back.
Oleg attended the next family anniversary alone. A week before the celebration, Tamara Petrovna sent Marina a single message:
“I hope you’ve finally calmed down.”
Marina read it and didn’t reply.
That Saturday evening, she stayed home. After work, she bought a ready-made pie, called Lena, and went peacefully to sleep.