Kira froze in front of the door, as if rooted to the floor. The key in the lock felt as painful as a splinter in her finger. Sounds came from the apartment, telling her only one thing: they were taking over. And that voice… of course, it was her mother-in-law. Who else could it be?
— Yurichka, darling, move the sofa over here. And this wardrobe—oh my God, who put it here? Throw it out immediately, and it will be much more spacious, — came Tatiana Vasilyevna’s orders, her tone as if she were directing the renovation of a palace.
Kira cautiously turned the key, trying to make no sound. In the hallway, she was met with piles of things: suitcases, bags, rags, and even felt boots. And in the living room, her mother-in-law, like the chief strategist, was giving orders to two movers. Yuri stood next to her, obediently nodding, like a mechanical toy.
— What’s all this with the furniture? — Kira said coldly, stopping in the doorway as if she had caught them in an indecent act.
— Oh, Kirichka, darling! You’re already home? — exclaimed Tatiana Vasilyevna, theatrically clapping her hands. — We’re just refreshing the interior a bit. Nothing serious, don’t worry.
— What “interior”? — Kira turned her gaze to Yuri. — Yura, are you out of your mind? What’s going on here?
— Well, you see… — Yuri began, like a schoolboy being interrogated by a teacher. — Mom and Dad… they’re having problems. She’s staying with us for a while. Not for long.
— For a while? — Kira asked, taking a step back. — How long is that? A day? A week? Or are you planning to surprise me with the number “six months”?
— Oh, come on, Kira, don’t exaggerate, — Tatiana Vasilyevna waved her hand. — Maybe three months, maybe four. Until I… get back on my feet. You have plenty of space. I’ll be careful.
— Careful?! — Kira dropped her purse. — And was anyone asked about this? Or am I just a decoration for your family show now?
— Darling, where should I go? Out on the street? — her mother-in-law sighed dramatically, pressing her hand to her heart as if she had been cast out from her last refuge.
— This is my mom! — Yuri intervened, frowning. — You can’t be against your own mother!
— I’m against you making decisions without me! — Kira retorted. — This is my apartment. I lived here before we got married. And I’m not going to tolerate an invasion from someone who thinks my style is “terrible.”
— Exactly. Before the wedding, — her mother-in-law countered, crossing her arms over her chest. — Now you’re family. And a son has the right to invite his mother. Especially in tough times.
Kira clenched her teeth, turned, and went to the bedroom, slamming the door so hard that her mother-in-law flinched.
The first few days, Kira stayed silent, trying to keep herself together like a yogi in meditation. But by the end of the week, it became clear: this woman wasn’t planning to be a temporary guest. She came with suitcases, rules, and a detailed guide called “How to remake someone else’s life according to my standards.”
The furniture was rearranged, the cabinets were scrubbed, things were thrown out — anything that didn’t meet her taste.
— This… this was a vase from my mom! The last gift before her death! — Kira held a bag with broken pieces, trembling with anger.
— A trinket, — Tatiana Vasilyevna waved her hand. — It collected dust. I bought a new one — modern, minimalist. Be glad.
By the end of the second week, Kira felt like a prisoner in her own home. She was being checked, interrogated, controlled.
— You’re late again? — her mother-in-law met her at the door, pushing her glasses up like a detective. — Yuri is hungry. Men need to eat on time, not wait for you to build your career.
— I warned you. We have a burning project, — Kira snapped, walking past her, not even taking off her coat.
— In our time, wives were home by six. Soup, compote… — her mother-in-law sniffed. — And now, everyone is a “businesswoman,” it seems.
A month later, Kira woke up with the realization: she was no longer in charge. She had become a guest in her own apartment.
One evening, she found Yuri in the kitchen.
— We need to talk, — she said quietly but firmly.
— Again? — Yuri calmly ate a sandwich as if he didn’t care — as if a circus was going on in the apartment.
— About your mom. She’s been here for a month. When is she leaving?
— Not now. She’s going through a tough time…
— And what about me? I’m having a celebration. I’m having fun. Every day with my mother-in-law… oh, sorry, with your mother, in slippers, wandering around the kitchen!
— She’s just trying to help, Kira. And you act like you’re in an ambush.
— Help?! She threw away my things! My favorite sweater! Called it “junk”! I wore it even in university!
— Mom knows what she’s doing. Maybe you should listen?
— Do you even realize what you’re saying? You have two women in the house, and one of them is not me.
At that moment, Tatiana Vasilyevna entered the kitchen holding a rag. Her face clearly expressed dissatisfaction.
— Another scandal? Kira, you seem to be holding a hysterics competition on purpose.
— Me? You’re the ones who’ve turned everything upside down!
— In “your apartment,” yes. But you’re married, aren’t you? Or have you forgotten?
— No, I haven’t forgotten. And if you’re so good at dealing with paperwork, remember this: the apartment was bought before the marriage. With my mom’s money. It’s all documented.
— And what now? Kick me out? Like a homeless person?
Kira silently looked at her husband. He calmly ate, as though nothing was happening.
— No, Tatiana Vasilyevna. I’m just leaving. From this apartment. From this circus. With my things.
She left, slamming the door. She returned, grabbed her keys, and left again, this time silently.
The days dragged on slowly, like cold oatmeal. Kira tried to avoid her mother-in-law, stayed late at work, found any excuse to be away from home.
— Yuri, look at your wife, — Tatiana Vasilyevna constantly repeated. — Cold, like a fish on the counter.
Yuri pretended everything was fine. He sat with his tablet, chewing pasta, nodding at his mother, as if watching another season of “Mother-in-Law vs. Everyone.” He was waiting for everything to sort itself out. But the situation was only getting worse.
One morning, Kira noticed that her favorite blue dress was no longer in the closet. She searched everywhere, checked every corner — found it in the trash. Neatly folded, like on a store shelf.
— Tatiana Vasilyevna, seriously? — Kira’s voice trembled, but she held it together, pulling the dress out of the bag.
— Look at yourself from the outside, — her mother-in-law answered indifferently. — You look inappropriate in those rags. You’re a married woman. You should dress accordingly.
— I’ll decide what to wear, — Kira no longer trembled. She was boiling.
— Yuri, say something to her! — Tatiana Vasilyevna turned to her son.
Yuri, not looking up from his phone, muttered:
— Mom, stop it. Let her wear whatever she wants.
— There you go! — Tatiana Vasilyevna raised her hands. — He doesn’t care at all how his wife looks!
Kira slammed the closet shut so hard that even the cat hid, startled. But a few days later, she discovered that her favorite shoes were gone. Then, her makeup bag. Gone without a trace.
The climax came when she checked her bank account before payday — negative. Not just empty, but as if someone decided to hold a clearance sale.
— Yuri, did you take money from our account? — she asked calmly in the evening.
— Yes, I took it, — he didn’t even look up from his phone. — Pasha needed it. My brother.
— Which Pasha?
— The younger one. He’s having trouble with his business.
— You took the money without asking?
— Mom said we needed to help. It’s family. Isn’t that the right thing to do? — he shrugged.
— Is it? — Kira clenched her phone, ready to throw it. — These are my money! I earned them!
— Ours, — Tatiana Vasilyevna intervened, like the chief judge. — Everything is shared in a family. And Pasha will return it. Definitely.
— When? — Kira turned to her, her voice ringing like glass.
— When his business is better, — her mother-in-law waved her hand dismissively. — By the way, I’ve been thinking. You need a bigger apartment. We can sell this one…
— What?! — Kira jumped, like she’d been hit with cold water.
— I’ve already found an option. Three rooms, great neighborhood, close to shops. Of course, we’ll need to pay more… But Yuri can take out a loan, and everything will be fine.
— Mom, maybe not now? — Yuri tried to intervene, but his voice was weak, like soggy oatmeal.
— When, Yuri? It’s time for you to think about kids, and you’re squeezing into this small place. And I wouldn’t mind a separate room.
Kira stood silently and walked out. The kitchen was left behind with its burnt toast and pointless arguments.
In the bedroom, she took out a folder of documents from the safe: the deed of gift from her mother, the purchase contract, the registry extract. Everything was neatly laid out in folders. She flipped through the papers like a priest with a prayer book, but instead of peace, she felt growing fury.
Suddenly, without knocking, Tatiana Vasilyevna entered.
— I’ve organized everything! — she cheerfully announced. — Tomorrow, we’re going to see the apartment. Great option. I think…
— No, — Kira replied calmly, without even looking up, continuing to sort through the documents.
— What do you mean “no”? — her mother-in-law froze, as if rooted to the spot.
— Yuri! — Kira called loudly. — Please come in. We need to talk.
Yuri appeared reluctantly, like a schoolboy summoned to the principal’s office, phone in hand, with a detached look on his face.
— Sit down, — Kira pointed to the bed. — This is going to be a serious conversation.
— What’s this performance?! — Tatiana Vasilyevna sniffed, but still sat down, adjusting her skirt as if preparing for an important meeting, not to hear that she was being kicked out of the apartment.
Kira threw the folder with the documents on the table so hard that it bounced and almost fell. Then she slowly turned to her relatives, who were sitting on her sofa as if it were their territory.
— I’ve put up with it for long enough, — Kira’s voice trembled not with fear, but with exhaustion. — First, you barged in without warning. Then came the little nitpicks: “This isn’t right, move this, throw that out.” Then you started going through my things — my clothes, my books, my cosmetics. And the cherry on top — my money. You just took it. No conversation. Convenient, right?
— Here it goes again… — her mother-in-law rolled her eyes, settling in more comfortably. — Yuri, say something to her. She’s completely lost it.
— No, listen to me, — Kira lifted her chin, her voice becoming sharp like sandpaper. — Here are the documents for the apartment. It’s mine. Bought before marriage. My mom helped. And here — the deed of gift. My money. Not shared. Mine.
— So what? — her mother-in-law hissed, pursing her lips. — Now you’re family. Everything is shared. And the apartment too.
— You’re wrong, — Kira pulled out another sheet. — Yuri and I have a prenuptial agreement. My idea. Surprised, right?
Yuri jerked, like he’d been whipped with a lash. He turned pale and looked away.
— What does that mean? — her mother-in-law hissed. — A prenuptial agreement? Behind our backs?
— Not behind yours, — Kira stared intently at her husband. — He signed it himself. In his right mind. With a pen in his hand. Remember, Yura? I said, “This will make things easier.”
— I thought it was just a piece of paper… — he mumbled, staring at the wall.
— And now that piece of paper is my way out.
Kira walked to the closet and took out two suitcases: one new, with a tag, and the other old, battered, like the idea of living with relatives.
— You have one hour to pack. No more.
— What?! — her mother-in-law screamed, jumping up. — You’re kicking us out?! Your family?!
— Exactly, — Kira looked her in the eye. — Enough with the circus. This is my life, my things, my money. I will no longer let you run things in my home. I am an adult, and perfectly rational.
— Yuri! — her mother-in-law screamed. — Tell her we’re staying!
— Kira, maybe we should talk… — Yuri got up from the bed as though walking to his execution.
— Talk? — Kira smirked. — We’ve been talking for three months. While your mom ruled this place like a general. Enough talking. Either you leave now, or I call the police. This is my apartment. The documents are on the table. If you want, call a lawyer, he’ll confirm it.
— You’ll regret this! Ungrateful! We came in peace, and you… — Tatiana Vasilyevna grabbed a suitcase as if it were a grenade.
— Peace, of course… — Kira smirked. — You came as guests, but behaved like occupiers. Bossed around, remodeled everything to your liking, took my money, and threw out my things. Even tried to sell the apartment. That’s your “peace,” right? I’m not someone’s dog on a leash. This is my home. My life.
Yuri stood between them, helplessly shifting his gaze from one woman to the other, like a child in a candy store who couldn’t afford any candy.
— And you get out too! — her mother-in-law hissed. — Don’t you dare stay with this… upstart!
— Yuri will make his own decision, — Kira said calmly, but tiredly. — But if he chooses to stay — it will be on my terms. Your mother no longer runs things here. Orders are canceled. From everyone. Otherwise… you know what will happen.
Tatiana Vasilyevna silently stormed out of the room, dragging her suitcase behind her, as if announcing to everyone with her body language: the war is not over.
Yuri stayed. He stood for a few seconds, then walked to the door. — Kira… maybe we should talk…
— There’s nothing more to talk about. You choose: me, or your mom.
— But how… she’s my mom…
— Exactly. You choose. This isn’t an ultimatum, I just don’t want to be the third wheel in our marriage.
He stood silently, then sighed and walked out after his mother. The door slammed so loudly that the echo spread throughout the apartment, as if even the walls didn’t know what awaited them next.
Kira slowly sank onto the bed. Her hands trembled, her legs felt like jelly, but inside, everything seemed to calm down. Warmth spread through her body, like the first cup of hot tea on a cold day. It was scary, but in a different way — more alive.
A week later, Yuri called.
— Maybe we should meet after all? Mom’s home, she’s cooled off…
— No, Yuri, — Kira replied almost in a whisper. — I’ve cooled off too. And I’ve realized I don’t need someone who can’t even protect me from his own mother.
— But I love you!
— Love isn’t just emojis in texts. It’s when you stand up for me, not for her. Pick up your things this weekend. I’ve filed for divorce.
She hung up the phone and walked to the window. Outside, someone was laughing, someone was smoking, and in her soul, there was silence. No anxiety, no shouting, no constant tension.
Three months. In those three months, she learned the most important thing — to value herself. Even if it means starting over.
The phone was ringing off the hook. Relatives were coming out of the woodwork like ants in a jar of jam. She ruthlessly added numbers to the blacklist. She even deleted an old friend — she started lecturing her about how important it was to keep the family together.
The first night was sleepless. Kira lay there listening to the sounds of the apartment — creaks, rustles, silence. For the first time, without criticism, orders, or eternal dissatisfaction. And in the morning, she calmly got up and made coffee. On her own. Without “you’re doing it wrong.” Without “what are you wearing?” Without “you always think only about yourself.”
A month later, she changed all the locks. And felt like a new person. The divorce went quickly — thanks to the prenuptial agreement. Yuri tried to protest but gave in quickly. Apparently, he had lived his whole life under someone else’s rule.
She never heard anything more about her mother-in-law. They say she returned to her husband. It seems her son wasn’t as reliable an ally as she had thought.
And Kira… Kira finally breathed deeply. And began to live for real.
In her home, the rules were hers, and no one would rewrite them.