“Marina has been sleeping in the living room for the third month! The third month, Igor!” a woman’s voice trembled with anger. “She’s your wife, and you say nothing!”
“Mom, stop…”
“No, you stop! Your wife is not a servant!”
Two hours before that conversation, Marina was standing at the stove, stirring soup. Klavdia Petrovna, the wife of her husband’s uncle, walked into the kitchen.
“Making borscht again?” she drawled nastily. “The same thing every day! Sure, this isn’t a restaurant, but a little variety would be nice.”
“Igor likes borscht,” Marina replied calmly.
“Igor likes a lot of things. For example, peace and quiet at night. And you snore.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Here she goes again about those sounds, Marina thought. Is it really audible through the wall? But we haven’t even… for three months now…”
“Oh yes, you do! We can hear it through the wall. That’s why my nephew moved into the study. He did the right thing.”
Marina set the ladle down.
“Klavadia Petrovna, Igor and I are husband and wife. We ought to have our own room for intimacy.”
“Intimacy?” the aunt burst out laughing. “Sweetheart, you’re living in my apartment for free. What intimacy are you talking about? Be grateful you have a roof over your head at all.”
Marina listened in silence. Arguing was useless—this was her apartment, her rules. All they could do was endure and wait until they’d saved up for a place of their own. But it had already been three months since they had, full of hope and gratitude, moved in with “kind Aunt Klava.” Now Marina understood—they should have stayed in that rented room at the dorm.
That evening at dinner the whole family gathered. Igor’s mother, Valentina Ivanovna, and his sister, Sveta, had come for a family council—Igor had complained to his mother about the “complicated situation” at home.
“Marinka, the borscht is tasty,” Sveta complimented.
“Thank you.”
“What’s tasty about it?” snorted Klavdia Petrovna. “It’s ordinary borscht. I cook much better. And with more variety.”
“Klava, why say that?” Valentina Ivanovna tried to step in.
She didn’t like how her brother-in-law’s wife behaved at the table.
“What did I say? I’m just stating a fact. And anyway, Valya, your daughter-in-law is odd. Sits at home all day, doesn’t want to work. Lazy, plain and simple.”
“I work remotely!” Marina couldn’t hold back.
“I have my own online shop; I do all the paperwork, I talk to clients,” she tried to explain.
“Oh, what a joke! Sitting on the internet isn’t work. When I was your age…”
“Enough!” Marina stood up from the table. “I can’t listen to this anymore!”
It had been too much for one day—remarks about snoring, about laziness, about not knowing how to cook. And her husband stayed silent, as always.
“Marin, sit down,” Igor said quietly.
“No! Your aunt humiliates me every day! And you say nothing!”
She looked at him with pain and disappointment. Where was the man she married? Where had her protector gone?
“Don’t exaggerate…”
“Exaggerate? Igor, we haven’t been together for three months! Three months! Because your auntie thinks it’s indecent! I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a wife and not a maid!”
Valentina Ivanovna flushed, understanding what her daughter-in-law meant. Klavdia Petrovna blushed too, but with indignation.
“Yes, it’s indecent!” declared Klavdia Petrovna. “You two were like rabbits that first week! No shame! The neighbors complained!”
“We’re husband and wife! What neighbors are you talking about?” Marina raised her voice. “Grandpa Semyonovich is hard of hearing, and the Petrovs spend the whole summer at their dacha. There are no other neighbors on the floor!”
Sveta covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Aunt Klava has really lost it,” she thought.
“So what? In my house you live by my rules! If you don’t like it, move out! Otherwise who knows what you’ll get up to—spread debauchery here! A young wife can stray, you know, if you don’t keep an eye on her!”
“Aunt Klava, they’re saving for an apartment,” Sveta tried to intervene.
“Let them save faster! And while they live here—no foolishness! This is a respectable building!”
“After Vitya dumped me and ran off to America,” thought Klavdia Petrovna, “I’ve been living alone like a nun. Let them suffer too. Who do they think they are?”
Valentina Ivanovna stood up.
“Klava, you’re going too far. Young people have a right to a private life…”
She didn’t get to finish before the aunt flared up:
“In their own apartment—by all means! But in mine—kindly observe decency!”
The doorbell rang. Sveta opened it, and in walked Marina’s mother—Nina Sergeyevna.
“What’s with all the shouting? You can hear it on the stairwell!”
“Mom?” Marina was surprised. “Weren’t you on a business trip…”
“I got back early and decided to drop by, and it seems you’re having a row. What’s going on?”
“Nothing special,” hissed Klavdia Petrovna, immediately going on the attack. “Your daughter is throwing a tantrum.”
“My daughter?” Nina Sergeyevna narrowed her eyes and sat down next to her daughter, calmly taking stock. “And what exactly has my daughter done wrong?”
“She’s demanding the impossible! Wants to turn my apartment into… into… a den…”
“Into a normal home for a young family?” Nina Sergeyevna finished for her.
She remembered how Klavdia herself had offered: “Come live with me, the apartment’s big, there’s room for everyone. Young people need help!”
“Mom, don’t…”
“No, Marina, enough tolerating this nonsense! Or do you, Klava, think babies are brought by storks, or found in cabbage patches, or, as they like to say these days, bought at a pharmacy?”
Sveta snickered.
“Igor, are you a man or what? Your wife sleeps on a folding cot in the living room and you in the study! Is that normal? You live like strangers, not like a family!”
Klavadia Petrovna felt the ground slipping under her feet.
“Don’t meddle in other people’s affairs,” she said coldly. “I’m the mistress of this apartment, I set the rules!”
“Other people’s? She’s my daughter!”
“Who is living in my apartment!”
“At your generous invitation! Or has that changed?”
Nina Sergeyevna sensed something was off. Klavdia was acting far too aggressively.
“I offered them a temporary stay! And they’ve settled in!”
“Three months is temporary!”
“For decent people—yes! But your daughter…”
Klavdia Petrovna struck a languid pose, as if she were about to let out a moan of feminine bliss.
“WHAT ABOUT MY DAUGHTER?!” Nina Sergeyevna burst out.
“Mom, please…”
“Quiet, Marina! Klavdia Petrovna, finish your thought!”
Nina wanted to hear everything said out loud, not these silly hints.
“Your daughter seduced my nephew! Got herself pregnant on purpose to force him to marry her!”
A dead silence fell over the room. Valentina Ivanovna was the first to come to:
“Marina, are you pregnant?”
Marina shook her head no.
“Klava, what are you spouting? What foolish fantasies!” her mother-in-law began to lose her temper.
“Not yet! But I’m sure she’s planning it! Why else is she so eager to rush into the bedroom with Igor?”
“Because they’re husband and wife!” shouted Sveta, laughing. “Aunt Klava, you’ve lost your mind!”
“Look at my friend Lida,” Sveta thought. “She avoids her husband—says he disgusts her. That’s so boring! At least these two love each other.”
Marina slowly turned to her husband.
“Igor, say something. Anything.”
“I… Aunt Klava, you’re wrong…”
“That’s it?” Marina smiled bitterly. “Even now you can’t stand up for me. That’s all you have to say? You’re such a doormat, Igor. A miserable milksop.”
“Marin, what do you want from me?”
“Protection! Support! For you to be a husband, not a floor rag!”
“Don’t you dare talk about my nephew like that!” Klavdia Petrovna protested.
“I’m not talking about your nephew. I’m talking about my husband. Or rather, the man pretending to be him.”
“He chose peace and quiet over me,” Marina thought. “His aunt over his wife.”
“My husband has turned into a coward who’s more afraid of an old woman than of losing his own wife!”
“Marina, stop,” Igor stood up. “Let’s talk later, calmly.”
“Calmly? For three months I’ve slept alone, cooked, cleaned, put up with your aunt’s rudeness, and you suggest we talk calmly? I live like a servant, not a wife!”
“If you don’t like it—leave!” barked Klavdia Petrovna. “No one’s keeping you!”
“Excellent idea!” said Nina Sergeyevna, taking her daughter by the hand. “Marina, pack your things. You’re coming with me.”
“Mom, but…”
“No ‘buts’! Enough!”
Igor felt a stab of fear. Would Marina really leave? Over some foolishness? But Aunt Klava meant well…
Valentina Ivanovna looked at Klavdia with condemnation. “And my son’s no better,” she thought. “He’s never once defended his wife.”
“Wait,” Valentina Ivanovna stepped between them. “Let’s not lose our heads. Marina, Igor, you love each other…”
“Love?” Marina laughed through tears. “Valentina Ivanovna, your son chose his aunt over his wife!”
She said it because in three months she had seen: Igor obeyed Klavdia Petrovna’s every demand, even the most absurd, but had never once defended his own spouse.
At that moment Klavdia thought, “What an ungrateful girl! I’m doing this for their sake, keeping order, and she blames me!”
“That’s not true!”
“It is! Igor, when was the last time you kissed me? Hugged me? Simply took my hand?”
Igor was silent.
“Exactly. Klavdia Petrovna, congratulations. You’ve destroyed our marriage.”
“Me? I took you in!” The aunt blinked in confusion. “I did it for your own good! So you’d learn to live properly, like decent people! I’ve got experience, you know—I was married when you were still knee-high!”
“You destroyed us! You turned my husband into a spineless boy and me into your maid! Bring this, take that away, not like that, do it over! Up at five to make breakfast! Don’t you dare turn on the TV after nine! Don’t you dare say tender words to your husband in public—it’s indecent!”
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Everyone fell silent. Klavdia went to open it. On the threshold stood a gray-haired man with a suitcase.
“Viktor?” she gasped. “You… but you’re in America…”
This man was her lawful husband who, five years earlier, had taken a job with an American company and gone overseas. The aunt was so surprised she was even frightened, because she’d grown used to feeling practically free—he wrote rarely, called even less often, and she had almost forgotten what it was to answer to someone.
“I’m back. For good.”
“But… but how…”
“Klava, I’m your husband. Remember? Or did you forget over these five years?”
The aunt feverishly thought, “God, what now? He’ll see how I run everything here! What if he doesn’t approve? What if he says I’m wrong? No, I need to explain to him that I’m maintaining order, building a strong family!”
Everyone stared, stunned, at the unexpected guest.
“Viktor?” his sister Valentina recognized her brother. “You’ve come back?”
She was both happy and bewildered—glad to see her brother, but aware that his appearance would change everything, and she still didn’t know how to feel about what was happening.
“Yes, Valya. I decided I’d had enough of bouncing around abroad. Time to come home. To my wife. If she still remembers she’s married, that is.”
Klavdia turned pale.
“Vitya, I… I wasn’t expecting…”
“I see. A full apartment of guests. And judging by the shouting I heard in the hallway, not everything is going smoothly. Igor, Marina, why are you here?”
He knew Marina because Valentina had written to him about her son’s wedding and sent photos.
“We… we live here, Uncle Vitya,” Igor mumbled.
“Live? In my apartment? Klava, are you renting out rooms?”
At that moment his wife felt the ground crumble under her feet—he could forbid everything, throw everyone out, destroy her little kingdom.
“No! They… they’re here temporarily… Igor is your nephew…”
“So what? Don’t they have a place of their own?”
“They’re saving up for an apartment,” Sveta put in.
Viktor Stepanovich looked at them all carefully.
“Right. Marina’s crying, Igor’s red as a beet, everyone’s yelling… Klava, what have you done?”
He’d already concluded it was his wife’s doing—he knew her nature: she always loved to boss people around, control them, teach them how to live.
“Me? Nothing! I just set some rules…”
“What rules?”
“Well… that they… sleep separately…”
On hearing this, her husband thought, “She’s lost her mind! She’s separated newlyweds!”
“WHAT?! You separated a pair of newlyweds? On what grounds? Have you taken leave of your senses? They’re spouses, not brother and sister!”
“It’s indecent! In our house…”
“In OUR house? Klava, you lived alone for five years because you pushed me off on a business trip! And now you’re teaching young people how to live? You don’t even know what a family is!”
He thought so because he remembered: when he worked in the city, she constantly nagged him, criticized him, forbade him to invite friends or watch TV. And when he was offered a job in America, she herself said, “Go—you’ll earn more money.” He realized then that she simply wanted to be alone so no one would interfere with her rules.
Klavdia backed away.
“Vitya, you don’t understand…”
“I understand perfectly! You decided to play mistress of other people’s lives! Igor, Marina, pack your things.”
“What?” everyone said in unison.
“You’re moving into my apartment on Melnikayte Street. I used it when I came back on vacation. It’s paid up for a year. Live in peace, love each other. And you, Klava, figure out what you want—family or power. Because you can’t have both.”
Marina thought, “Is this real? Is someone finally standing up for us? Maybe all isn’t lost?”
Viktor Stepanovich took out a set of keys and held them out to his nephew.
“Here. And forgive this old fool. She’s always been like this—bossy and foolish. That’s why I ran off to America.”
He remembered how, five years ago, he’d grabbed at the overseas offer like a lifeline—just to escape a home where his every step was controlled and criticized.
“Vitya!” wailed Klavdia. “How can you!”
“Very easily. I spent five years thinking you’d change. But I came back—you’re the same. Worse, even. You’re breaking other people’s lives.”
Valentina Ivanovna thought about her brother: “It’s good he’s back. He’s the only one who can rein Klavdia in. We were all afraid to take her on, but he isn’t.”
Marina took the keys.
“Thank you, Viktor Stepanovich. But we can’t…”
“You can and you will. Igor, did you defend your wife even once tonight?”
“I…” he faltered.
Valentina felt ashamed of her son. “How can this be? A grown man acting like a boy. Didn’t defend his wife, showed no backbone.”
“You were silent. I know—Klavka knows how to put the squeeze on. But you’re a husband. Act like a man. And as for the rest of you—you’re all complicit. You watched her bully the girl and kept quiet.”
Marina thought, “It’s true. Everyone saw, everyone understood, but no one stepped in. Only this man dared to tell the truth.”
“We tried…” began Valentina Ivanovna.
“Not very hard. All right, what’s done is done. Igor, Marina, you’re moving first thing tomorrow. No arguments!”
He walked into the other room, leaving the rest in the kitchen. Sobbing, Klavdia ran after him. From the room came:
“No, Klava! First you apologize to Marina. Sincerely. On your knees.” He said it because he understood: only humiliation would force his proud, domineering wife to realize what she’d done. “Otherwise I’ll file for divorce, and you’ll be out on the street!”
Everyone exchanged glances. Marina took Igor by the hand.
“Let’s go. We have things to discuss.”
They stepped out onto the landing. Igor embraced his wife.
“Forgive me. I was a coward.”
“Yes. You were. But we have a chance to fix it.”
She said it because she believed that if Igor had realized his mistake, if they had their own space, far from the aunt’s control, they could get back what they’d lost.
“Marina, I love you.”
“Prove it. With actions, not words.”
They kissed—for the first time in three months. And from the apartment came Viktor Stepanovich’s voice:
“…and remember this, Klava! If I hear again that you’re meddling in someone else’s life—you’ll be alone. Forever! And this time I’m not joking and I’m not running off anywhere—YOU will be the one out the door!”