Ulya, how could you forget to buy olives? Mom loves them in the salad!” Anya exclaimed, dramatically sighing while waving the grocery bag.
Ulyana just sighed, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel. The sun was setting outside, casting the last rays over the well-kept garden of their country house. The holiday dinner was supposed to start in an hour, and the list of complaints from her sister-in-law continued to grow.
“I bought three types of salads, two types of meat, four appetizers, and a cake. If Maria Kirillovna really needs olives, she could bring them herself,” Ulyana tried to speak calmly, although inside, everything was boiling.
“Oh, here we go again!” Anya rolled her eyes. “Is it so hard to ask for such a small thing? Mom is right, you don’t try hard enough for our family.”
Ulyana stayed silent. Arguing with Anya was useless—she always twisted the situation to make it look like Ulyana was at fault. Five years of marriage to Misha had taught her to choose her battles.
The front door slammed, and voices could be heard in the hallway—her mother-in-law and Misha had arrived; he had come to pick her up from work.
“My dear ones!” Maria Kirillovna sang, rushing into the kitchen in a new outfit. “Ulyana, why is it so dark in here? Turn on the light, I can’t see a thing!”
Without waiting for a reply, she flicked the switch and critically looked around the kitchen.
“Okay, where’s the holiday tablecloth? Anya, take the one with embroidery out of my bag. I told Ulyana to buy a new one, but apparently, she forgot.”
“I didn’t forget,” Ulyana replied calmly. “I just don’t see the point in spending money on something we already have.”
“My God,” her mother-in-law sighed dramatically, “saving on such little things is a sign of bourgeois mentality. Misha, do you hear how your wife talks?”
Misha, just entering the kitchen, smiled apologetically.
“Mom, let’s not argue today, okay? It’s our holiday.”
“I’m not arguing,” Maria Kirillovna pursed her lips. “I’m just trying to help your family live decently.”
Ulyana silently continued slicing vegetables for the salad. It was her and Misha’s fifth wedding anniversary, and for some reason, her mother-in-law had decided that it was a perfect occasion for a family dinner at their country house—the one they had bought with the money from Ulyana’s grandmother’s inheritance.
“By the way,” Maria Kirillovna casually mentioned while laying out the tablecloth she had brought, “I invited Viktor and his wife. They’ve been wanting to see your house for a while.”
Ulyana froze, the knife paused over the tomato.
“Viktor? But we didn’t prepare enough for seven people. We didn’t even plan…”
“Ulyana,” her mother-in-law interrupted, “in normal families, guests are always welcome. Is setting a couple of extra places really a problem?”
“Yeah, Ulya,” Anya joined in, “don’t be such a bore. Vitya is rarely in town.”
Ulyana looked at her husband, hoping for support, but he was already opening the wine, pretending not to hear the conversation.
The story of their family “get-togethers” started right after their wedding. First, Maria Kirillovna insisted on weekly Sunday dinners at the apartment where Misha and Ulyana lived. Then, it turned into a tradition to gather for every holiday. And each time, all the preparation, cooking, and cleaning fell on Ulyana’s shoulders.
“You’re the hostess,” her mother-in-law would say, comfortably settling into an armchair while Ulyana ran back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. “It’s your responsibility.”
Anya readily nodded, scrolling through her phone while simultaneously criticizing the table setting or Ulyana’s outfit.
The purchase of the country house three years ago was supposed to be a salvation—a place of their own, away from the intrusive attention of relatives. Ulyana had invested all her savings and inheritance from her grandmother into it. Misha contributed much less, although he always told everyone that they had bought the house “together.”
But instead of peace and quiet, the house became a pilgrimage site for Misha’s relatives. First on weekends, then for holidays, and now Maria Kirillovna was bringing up how wonderful it would be to spend the entire summer there.
“Ulya, what are you thinking about? The guests are coming now, and you still haven’t set the table,” Anya’s voice pulled Ulyana out of her thoughts.
“I’m coming,” she sighed, wiping her hands.
In the living room, Maria Kirillovna was already rearranging the pictures.
“This one looks better over the fireplace, doesn’t it, Misha? I don’t understand why Ulyana insisted on such a strange arrangement.”
Misha made a noncommittal sound while pouring wine.
“Mom, maybe we shouldn’t move it? Ulya’s the one who—”
“What about Ulya?” his mother interrupted. “Your wife has absolutely no taste, and you know it. I’m just trying to make your home cozier.”
Ulyana gritted her teeth. It was her painting—a landscape, bought with her first bonus at work. And she had chosen the spot for it herself, carefully planning the living room’s interior.
The doorbell interrupted the rising conflict. Viktor and his wife Natalia arrived—Misha’s cousin and his spouse, whom Ulyana had seen no more than five times during their marriage.
“What a wonderful house!” Natalia exclaimed, kissing Ulyana on the cheek. “Anya has told us so much about it, shown us pictures. It’s just lovely!”
Ulyana blinked in surprise.
“Pictures?”
“Yes,” Natalia replied casually, “Anya posted an entire gallery online. She wrote that you often gather here as a family. How sweet!”
Ulyana shifted her gaze to Anya, who was smiling brightly, but Misha’s sister’s eyes revealed a slight concern.
“I hope you don’t mind?” Anya asked with feigned innocence. “We’re family, after all. We should be proud of each other.”
This was too much. Their house, bought with her money, was now being flaunted by Misha’s relatives as if it were their own property. But before Ulyana could respond, Misha grabbed her by the elbow.
“Ulya, will you help me with the salads?”
In the kitchen, away from the guests, he quietly spoke.
“Listen, I know that mom and Anya can be pushy…”
“Pushy?” Ulyana nearly choked on her indignation. “Misha, they act like this house belongs to them! Anya posts pictures, your mom moves the furniture and pictures around, they invite guests without our consent!”
“Why are you exaggerating?” Misha tiredly rubbed his forehead. “They just want to be closer to us. Is that such a bad thing?”
“Being closer is one thing,” Ulyana lowered her voice, hearing footsteps approaching. “Using us is another. I’m tired of being the maid at these ‘family’ get-togethers.”
“Let’s talk about this later, okay?” Misha placated her with a touch on the shoulder. “Now is not the time for fights.”
As usual, the conversation was put off for later. As usual, Misha avoided the conflict. As usual, Ulyana was left alone with her frustration.
She sighed deeply and returned to the living room, putting on her usual smile. The holiday dinner was just beginning, and it promised to be a very, very long evening.
The dinner passed in a haze. Ulyana mechanically smiled, poured wine, served dishes, and kept the conversation going. Inside, her irritation grew.
“Oh, Ulyana, this meat is a little overcooked,” Maria Kirillovna critically looked at her plate. “I always told Misha that a wife should know how to cook. My mother taught me from childhood.”
“The meat is perfect, mom,” Misha intervened, but with some uncertainty.
“No, no, I’m not criticizing,” the mother-in-law smiled with the air of a wise mentor. “Just giving some advice. Ulyana wants to be a good housewife, right, dear?”
Ulyana took a sip of wine instead of responding.
“Are you planning to expand the house?” Viktor asked, looking around the living room. “It’s a bit small for a big family.”
“Expand?” Ulyana was surprised. “It’s more than enough for the two of us.”
“Well, yes,” Maria Kirillovna chimed in, “Anya and I thought it would be nice to spend the summer here. And Vitya and Natalia could stay for a week. And if we add a porch…”
“What?” Ulyana nearly choked. “Spend the summer? But we never discussed this.”
“What’s there to discuss?” Anya asked, genuinely surprised. “We’re family, aren’t we? And besides, you’re at work all day. Mom will take care of the house, do some renovations…”
“Renovations?” Ulyana felt the ground slip out from under her. “What renovations?”
“Well, there’s a lot that needs redoing,” Maria Kirillovna said briskly. “This wallpaper in the bedroom doesn’t match the furniture at all. And in the living room, I’d change the arrangement of the sofa and…”
“Stop,” Ulyana put her glass on the table so forcefully that the wine splashed over the edge. “You’re planning to redo my house? Without my knowledge?”
An awkward silence hung in the air. Natalia nervously lowered her gaze. Viktor pretended to be very interested in his plate.
“Ulya, why are you so nervous?” Anya forced a smile. “Mom just wants to help. She has great taste, unlike…”
She didn’t finish, but everyone understood what she meant.
“Unlike me?” Ulyana whispered.
“This is my house, Anya,” she said quietly. “I chose every detail. I paid for it with my own money.”
“Your money?” Maria Kirillovna raised her eyebrows. “Misha, do you let your wife say such things? You’re a family, there shouldn’t be ‘yours’ and ‘mine’.”
Misha looked confused.
“Ulya, Mom is right about some things. Why all this talk about money…”
“Because the house was bought with my inheritance,” Ulyana interrupted. “And I won’t let it be remodeled without my consent.”
“My God, what pettiness,” Anya rolled her eyes. “Misha, I warned you that she…”
“Enough!” Ulyana suddenly stood up from the table. “Five years I’ve endured all your remarks, criticism, and unsolicited advice. Five years I’ve listened to how I’m not a good wife and hostess. Five years I’ve cooked for you, cleaned, entertained, and in return, all I’ve gotten are new demands!”
A ringing silence filled the room. Even Maria Kirillovna looked stunned by the sudden outburst of her usually composed daughter-in-law.
“Ulyana, what do you think you’re doing?” Maria Kirillovna was the first to recover. “This is disrespectful to your elders!”
“Disrespect?” Ulyana laughed bitterly. “How do you explain what you’re doing? You come unannounced, criticize every step I take, invite your friends into my house, plan renovations without my knowledge, and you expect me to be grateful?”
“Misha,” Maria Kirillovna turned to her son, “Explain to your wife how to behave in proper society!”
Misha looked like a cornered animal.
“Ulya, maybe we shouldn’t… in front of the guests…”
“In front of the guests?” Ulyana couldn’t stop now. “The ones I didn’t invite? The ones who came at your sister’s invitation, after she looked at photos of my house online? And now you want me to be silent?”
“Ulya, you’re overdoing it,” Misha tried to take her hand, but she pulled away.
“No, Misha. You’ve all gone too far. And I’ve had enough.”
At that moment, the doorbell rang. Ulyana froze in place.
“Who is it?”
“Oh, it’s probably Kostya and Lena,” Anya said casually. “I invited them for tea. They really wanted to see your house!”
That was the last straw. Ulyana felt something snap inside her—the last thread of patience, respect, affection.
“Out,” she said so quietly that everyone leaned forward to hear. “Everyone out of my house. Right now.”
“What did you say?” Maria Kirillovna couldn’t believe her ears.
“I said—OUT!” Ulyana raised her voice. “Get out, and take your leftovers with you! Immediately!”
“Ulyana!” Misha jumped up. “You can’t talk to my family like this!”
“I can,” she looked him straight in the eyes. “And either they leave now, or you leave with them. Forever.”
Natalia and Viktor were the first to stand up, muttering apologies. Anya sat there, arms crossed.
“We’re not going anywhere,” she declared. “This is Misha’s house, not yours.”
“That’s not true,” Ulyana had regained her composure. “I can show you the documents that clearly state the house was bought with my money. So, I’m the one who decides who stays here.”
She turned to Misha.
“Choose. Right now.”
Misha looked lost. He glanced from his wife to his mother and sister, opened his mouth but couldn’t utter a word.
“Misha, don’t let her treat us like this!” Maria Kirillovna exclaimed. “Are you the man of the house or what?”
“Ulya, let’s calm down,” Misha finally managed to say. “We all got a little carried away and…”
“We?” Ulyana shook her head. “So, once again, you’re not on my side.”
She walked over to the front door and swung it open.
“I’ll count to ten. Anyone who doesn’t leave will get their things by mail.”
Half an hour later, the house was empty. Ulyana methodically packed the guests’ belongings into bags and placed them on the porch. Her phone rang—Misha—but she didn’t answer.
For the first time in a long while, she felt a strange sense of relief. It was as if a huge burden that had pressed down on her shoulders for years had suddenly disappeared. Yes, there was uncertainty ahead, perhaps a divorce, life without her usual support. But right now, in the silence of her own home, she felt surprisingly at peace.
Misha came two days later. Alone, without his mother or sister. He knocked uncertainly, as if on a stranger’s door.
“Ulya, we need to talk,” he said when she opened the door.
His eyes were red from lack of sleep, his cheeks covered in stubble.
“Come in,” Ulyana stepped aside to let him in. “Do you want some coffee?”
“No, thanks,” he fidgeted in the hallway. “Ulya, I came to apologize. Mom overstepped, and Anya too. They shouldn’t have…”
“It’s not about them, Misha,” Ulyana interrupted. “It’s about you. About us. For five years, I waited for you to stand by my side. To protect me. Not from bandits or hooligans—but from your own mother and sister. But you always chose them. Always.”
“That’s not true!” he protested. “I love you, you’re my wife!”
“Then why did you let them treat me like a servant? Why did you stay silent when your mother criticized everything I did? Why didn’t you ever tell Anya she had no right to control our house?”
Misha lowered his gaze.
“They’re my family, Ulya. I can’t…”
“I was your family too,” Ulyana said softly. “But now, it seems, I’m not anymore.”
“What do you mean?” There was concern in his voice.
“I’m filing for divorce, Misha.”
He paled.
“What? Ulya, you can’t… over one argument…”
“Not over one argument,” Ulyana shook her head. “Over five years when I felt like a stranger in my own life. Over the fact that you never stood by me.”
“I can change!” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I’ll talk to Mom, to Anya. They won’t…”
“It’s too late, Misha,” Ulyana smiled sadly. “I’d rather live in the countryside than share an apartment with you after all this.”
“But you don’t have an apartment in the city,” he said, confused. “How will you get to work?”
“Bus runs every hour. Plus, there are colleagues with cars. I’ll manage.”
He looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. This new, determined Ulyana was nothing like the quiet, submissive wife he had known.
“I won’t sign the divorce papers,” Misha finally said. “You’re just upset, you need time to think.”
“I’ve thought for five years, Misha. Enough.”
“Mom says you’re just jealous of my family,” he tried to take her hand. “That all daughters-in-law go through this, but then they get used to it.”
Ulyana pulled her hand away.
“See? Even now—’Mom says.’ You don’t think for yourself, you don’t decide—Mom does. Go home, Misha. And tell your mom and sister not to show up on my turf again.”
“Ulya, listen…”
“No, you listen,” she opened the front door. “I’ll pick up my things from the apartment next week. I’ll leave the keys with the neighbor. Now, please, go.”
When the door closed behind him, Ulyana leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Inside, there was emptiness—no sadness, no regret, just immense fatigue and a strange sense of freedom.
For the first time in five years, she could breathe freely. For the first time, she didn’t have to please, fit in, endure. For the first time, the house truly felt like her fortress, not a battlefield.
Tomorrow, a new life would begin. Hard, lonely, unpredictable. But hers—from the first breath to the last.
The next two weeks passed in a blur. Ulyana picked up her things from the city apartment while Misha was at work, signed the divorce papers, and threw herself into arranging her country house. Now that she didn’t have to consider other people’s opinions, she could finally do everything the way she had always dreamed.
She didn’t quit her job as an accountant—she negotiated with her boss for a partial remote work schedule and went to the office three times a week, taking the bus or riding with colleagues. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.
Misha called every day the first week, then every other day, and then the calls became less frequent. He switched from pleading to accusing, from promises to threats, but Ulyana remained unwavering.
One evening, when Ulyana was working in the garden, an unfamiliar car pulled up to the house. Natalia, Misha’s cousin’s wife, got out of the car.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly as she approached the gate. “Can I come in?”
Ulyana nodded warily, taking off her gardening gloves.
“Come in. Tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” Natalia looked uncomfortable. “I’m probably the last person you want to see, but… I need to talk to you.”
They settled on the porch. Natalia nervously twisted her cup in her hands.
“I came to apologize,” she finally said. “For that evening. Misha and I didn’t know we were invited without your knowledge. If we had known…”
“You’re not to blame,” Ulyana smiled tiredly. “It’s all Anya and Maria Kirillovna. It’s always been like this.”
Natalia nodded.
“You know, I’m also a daughter-in-law. Just lucky—I live in another city, and my mother-in-law visits once a year. But even that’s enough to make me take a week to recover afterward.”
They both laughed quietly.
“Maria Kirillovna tells everyone that you threw them out in the middle of the night,” Natalia shook her head. “But Misha and I know that’s not true. I’ve never seen anyone treated like this by their daughter-in-law. As if you were… some servant.”
Ulyana smiled sadly.
“For five years, I tried to please, fit in, earn their approval. You know how many holidays I spent in the kitchen while they had fun in the living room? How many remarks I got about my cooking, my clothes, my manners?”
“And Misha let them?”
“Misha…” Ulyana sighed. “He just didn’t notice. Or didn’t want to notice. For him, it was normal—his sister grew up that way, his mother lived that way. A woman has to please and endure.”
“I’m glad you found the strength to change things,” Natalia said sincerely. “Many people live like this for years.”
They talked until evening. For the first time in a long while, Ulyana felt she wasn’t alone in her struggles.
After Natalia left, Ulyana sat on the porch for a long time, watching the sunset. Had she really had the courage to change everything? Sometimes she woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, thinking about the future—how to live alone, how to handle the household, the loneliness. But then she remembered the last years of her marriage and realized: it was better this way than to become invisible in her own home again.
A month later, when Ulyana was coming home from work, she saw a familiar car by the gate. Misha was standing there, leaning on the hood, smoking—a habit he had given up before their wedding.
“Hi,” he smiled awkwardly. “Can we talk?”
Ulyana silently opened the gate, letting him into the yard.
Inside, Misha looked around as if he was seeing everything for the first time. And indeed, much had changed—Ulyana had rearranged the furniture, hung new shelves, placed flowers and books just the way she liked.
“It looks nice,” he nodded at the bright cushions on the sofa. “Cozy.”
“Thank you,” Ulyana set the teapot down. “Did you need something?”
Misha hesitated, then pulled a folder out of his bag.
“Documents. For the divorce. I signed them.”
Ulyana froze, holding the cups in her hands.
“Really? And what happened to ‘we can fix everything’ and ‘let’s try again’?”
“I thought a lot,” Misha sat down. “About us. About what you said. And… you were right. I never took your side. I always chose Mom and Anya.
He ran his hand through his hair — a gesture that Ulyana once found so charming.
— Mom still thinks you just threw a tantrum and will soon “calm down.” And Anya says you’ve always been selfish. But you know… I suddenly realized that I don’t really know you. The real you. Five years together, and you were like a shadow.
Ulyana silently poured the tea. What could she say? He was right.
— I started noticing things, — Misha continued. — How Mom comes into the apartment and starts criticizing everything. How Anya asks me to buy something and gets offended if I refuse. I never saw this before. Or maybe I didn’t want to see it.
— And what now? — Ulyana asked.
— Now… I’m letting you go, — he smiled sadly. — You deserve better than a husband like me. And I… I also want to learn to be better. More independent.
He handed her a folder:
— It’s all signed. The apartment stays with me, the house — with you, as you wanted. No claims.
Ulyana took the documents, feeling a strange emptiness inside. Five years of marriage fit into a few sheets of paper with signatures.
— Thank you, — she said quietly. — And goodbye, Misha.
He stood up.
— If you need anything… just call, okay?
Ulyana nodded, knowing she would never call.
When the door closed behind Misha, she walked to the window. He got into his car but didn’t rush to leave — he sat there, his head resting on the steering wheel. Maybe he was crying. Maybe he was just thinking about something.
Ulyana turned away from the window. Strange, but she didn’t feel either triumph or sadness. Just relief and quiet confidence that she had done the right thing.
Six months later, Ulyana was sitting on the porch of her house, working on her laptop. After the divorce, she switched to remote work, got promoted, and now she could afford to enjoy the country life without the rush and stress of city commutes.
It was evening. Birds were singing in the garden. The house, which had once seemed too big for one person, had become a cozy refuge where everything had its place and meaning.
The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. At the doorstep stood Natalia with a bag of fresh pastries.
— I decided to stop by on my way from the dacha, — she smiled. — Hope I’m not interrupting?
— Not at all, come in! — Ulyana hugged her friend. Over the months, they had grown close, despite the family history.
Settling on the porch with tea and pie, they chatted about little things — work, the garden, vacation plans.
— By the way, — Natalia said casually, — have you heard the news about Misha?
Ulyana shook her head:
— We’re not in touch. What happened?
— He moved. To another city. Anya complained to Vitya that “the ungrateful son left his mother and went off to find happiness.”
Ulyana raised her eyebrows in surprise:
— Seriously? Misha? He couldn’t take a step without his mom’s approval.
— Apparently, something has changed in him, — Natalia shrugged. — He told Vitya he wants to start fresh. Somewhere where he’s not known as “Maria Kirillovna’s son” or “Anya’s brother.” Can you imagine?
Ulyana gazed thoughtfully at the garden. This was something she had never expected — that Misha would find the strength to break this unhealthy bond with his family.
— I’m happy for him, — she said sincerely. — Really happy.
Natalia looked at her curiously:
— And you’ve never regretted it? About the divorce?
Ulyana shook her head:
— No. It would have been easier if Misha had turned out to be a bad person — drinking, cheating, hitting. But he just… wasn’t my person. He didn’t see the real me. And I probably didn’t see the real him either.
They were silent, watching the sunset paint the sky in pink and golden hues.
— And what about Maria Kirillovna and Anya? — Ulyana asked.
— Oh, — Natalia rolled her eyes, — they’re now the main victims. “The ungrateful daughter-in-law ruined the family,” “the heartless son abandoned his mother.” Classic.
Ulyana laughed softly. Those words would have hurt her before, made her doubt herself. Now, they seemed just funny.
— You know what I realized over these months? — she said, pouring tea. — You can’t live by other people’s expectations. I tried so hard to be the “good daughter-in-law,” the “perfect wife,” that I completely forgot who I really am.
— And who are you? — Natalia asked with a smile.
Ulyana looked around at her home, the garden, the evening sky. Everything she had created with her own hands. Everything that now belonged only to her.
— I’m a woman who will never let anyone devalue her again, — she said firmly. — A woman who has the right to her own opinion, her own space, and her own life. And I will never forget that again.
They raised their cups like glasses of champagne, and Natalia solemnly said:
— To us. To women who aren’t afraid to start with a clean slate.
Ulyana smiled. Ahead of her was a whole life — free, real, her own. And that was beautiful.