Marina carefully arranged the glasses on the festive table. Their apartment gleamed with cleanliness—three days of cleaning hadn’t been in vain. Her mother-in-law’s jubilee was serious business.
“Marina, isn’t the tablecloth too bright?” Sergey peeked into the room.
“It’s fine,” Marina muttered. “Don’t start. Your mom said ‘festive,’ so I did my best.”
“You know what she’s like…”
Marina knew. Oh, she knew. Eight years of marriage—and eight years of trying to please Tatyana Semyonovna. Useless attempts.
The doorbell made her flinch.
“It’s her!” Sergey rushed to the door.
“Seryozhenka! How I’ve missed you, son!” came his mother’s voice.
Marina took a deep breath. The show begins.
Tatyana Semyonovna burst into the apartment like a tank—instantly filling the space with her loud voice, brisk movements, and the scent of strong perfume.
“Oh, I wouldn’t have used this tablecloth, Marinochka,” she announced first thing. “But fine, since it’s already laid…”
“Happy birthday,” Marina said, handing over a cake box.
“Thank you, dear. And the guests—when? In an hour? Then I’ll go get changed.” Tatyana Semyonovna slipped off her wrap and headed to the bathroom.
“She doesn’t live here, right?” Marina whispered to her husband.
“Hush!” Sergey shook his head.
An hour later the apartment filled with guests—her mother-in-law’s friends, distant relatives, neighbors. Tatyana Semyonovna beamed at the center of attention.
“Everyone to the table!” she commanded, as if she were the lady of the house.
Marina only smiled and served the dishes. It was her mother-in-law’s birthday—let her enjoy herself.
“And now a toast!” Tatyana Semyonovna raised her glass. “To a new stage of my life! To the fact that I now have a solid home base—this lovely apartment of my sonny and Marinochka!”
Marina froze with the salad bowl in her hands. What did “home base” mean?
“Now my old age is secure,” the mother-in-law continued, turning to her friend Zinaida. “The apartment is family now, which means it’s mine too!”
The bowl nearly slipped from Marina’s hands. She looked around the room—the walls she had chosen and painted herself, the curtains, the sofa—everything her parents had given her even before she met Sergey.
“Tanya’s right!” Zinaida chimed in. “At our age you need confidence in tomorrow!”
Marina looked at her husband. He was diligently studying the pattern on the tablecloth.
“Serge,” she whispered. “Did you hear that?”
“Come on, Mom was just joking,” he forced a smile.
But Marina could tell: it was no joke. Tatyana Semyonovna was already holding forth about how she would “put the apartment in order,” “set up the young couple’s household.”
“This is MY apartment,” Marina said quietly.
“What are you saying, dear?” the mother-in-law turned her head.
“Nothing,” Marina forced a smile. “Anyone else want tea?”
The evening dragged on endlessly. The guests ate, drank, and congratulated the birthday girl, while Marina felt frozen in a fog. Tatyana Semyonovna had already walked through the rooms with two friends, discussing where she’d put a wardrobe and where she’d hang her favorite curtains.
When the door closed behind the last guest, Marina silently began to clear the dishes.
“Wonderful evening, isn’t it?” the mother-in-law asked cheerfully, sitting down on the couch. “I’m so pleased!”
“Mhm,” Marina replied.
“Seriozha, I’ll drop by tomorrow with Klava—I want to show her how I’m going to set everything up here,” announced Tatyana Semyonovna. “She has such taste!”
Sergey coughed.
“Mom, what did you mean? About the apartment?”
“What’s unclear?” she asked, surprised. “I’m not getting any younger; I need to think about the future. And your apartment—it’s shared now, a family place. So it’s mine too!”
Marina gripped the towel until her knuckles turned white.
“Tatyana Semyonovna, but this is—” she didn’t get to finish.
“I’ve already picked out new curtains!” the mother-in-law cut her off. “These are too gloomy. And the sofa needs to go on the other wall.”
Sergey stepped in.
“Mom, it’s late. Shall I walk you out?”
“Oh, son, no need. I’ll get home myself. And tomorrow at three I’ll come with Klavdiya Petrovna!”
The door closed behind her. Marina collapsed onto the couch.
“Serge, did you not hear what she said? She considers MY apartment HERS!”
“Marina, she just said it in the heat of the moment,” Sergey shrugged uncertainly.
“In the heat of the moment? She’s already picked out my curtains! This is my home! My parents bought this apartment for me! Before our marriage!”
“Keep your voice down,” Sergey sat beside her. “Don’t dramatize.”
“I’m dramatizing?!” Marina jumped up. “No, that’s it! I’m not going to put up with this!”
The next day Marina came home early from work—and froze in the doorway. Voices were coming from the kitchen. She walked in slowly.
“And here I’m thinking of putting my sideboard,” Tatyana Semyonovna ran her hand along the wall. “See, Klava, it’ll fit perfectly.”
A gray-haired woman in glasses nodded beside her.
“That’s right, Tanechka! Young folks need help with the household.”
“Good evening,” Marina said in an icy tone.
“Oh, Marinochka!” the mother-in-law wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. “Klava and I are discussing how to arrange the kitchen.”
“My kitchen?”
“Our kitchen, dear, ours,” the mother-in-law patted her shoulder. “We’re one family!”
Marina swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Tatyana Semyonovna, you’re a guest. In my home.”
“Oh, drop the formalities!” she waved it off. “By the way, I invited Zina and Alla for tea on Sunday. Will you bake your signature pie?”
A week later, Marina no longer recognized her own life. Tatyana Semyonovna showed up at the apartment every day. She rearranged the dishes in the cupboards, brought her old photos and hung them in the hallway, and yesterday dragged in some hideous vase and planted it in the most conspicuous spot.
“Serge, I can’t do this anymore,” Marina told her husband. “She acts like this is her house!”
“Come on, Mom just wants to help…”
“Help?! She invites her friends over without asking! I came home yesterday—and there were three old ladies drinking tea and discussing MY curtains!”
“Oh, come on,” Sergey sighed. “She’s my mom…”
“Yours, not mine!” Marina felt tears rising. “And I didn’t sign up for this!”
Lena, Marina’s friend, advised:
“Tell her straight. Explain calmly that it’s your apartment.”
“And if Sergey doesn’t back me up?” Marina turned a coffee cup in her hands.
“Then you have two options: either put up with it your whole life, or…” Lena left the rest hanging.
Marina understood. Could her marriage really fall apart because of her mother-in-law?
That evening the doorbell rang. Marina opened it—on the threshold stood Tatyana Semyonovna with a neighbor.
“Marinochka! Vera Nikolayevna and I decided the living room needs to be rearranged…”
Marina looked at them in silence. Something in her cracked—and at the same time grew stronger.
“Come in,” she said, letting them into the entryway.
Tatyana Semyonovna headed straight for the living room. Vera Nikolayevna scurried after her, looking around with curiosity.
“Look, Vera, if we move the couch here and get rid of the bookshelves altogether…”
“Bookshelves?” Marina flinched. “My bookshelves?”
“Oh, what for—they just collect dust,” the mother-in-law waved it off. “I’m thinking of putting my display cabinet here. It’s so beautiful, my grandmother’s!”
Marina took a deep breath. She caught herself doing this every time she saw her mother-in-law: breathe in, breathe out, calm down. But today she couldn’t calm down.
“And where’s Seryozha?” asked Tatyana Semyonovna, plopping onto the couch and motioning for the neighbor to sit beside her.
“He’s still at work,” Marina answered.
“Pity. I wanted to discuss renovations with him. It’s time to change the wallpaper! These are out of fashion.”
“Wallpaper?” Marina’s ears rang. “We put them up three years ago!”
“So what? I found wonderful floral ones. Here, Vera Nikolayevna, look,” the mother-in-law pulled wallpaper samples out of her bag.
The neighbor nodded enthusiastically:
“Oh, how lovely! Tanechka, you have such taste!”
Marina felt a lump rise in her throat. She remembered how she and Sergey had chosen that wallpaper, how they argued, laughed, then hung it together for a whole week.
“Tatyana Semyonovna,” Marina’s voice sounded unexpectedly calm, “have you considered that this isn’t your home?”
Silence fell. The mother-in-law raised her brows in surprise:
“What do you mean, Marinochka?”
“That this is MY apartment. My parents gave it to me. Before the wedding.”
“So what?” the mother-in-law laughed. “You’re a family now; everything’s shared!”
At that moment the sound of a key in the lock came from the hall. Sergey entered.
“Oh, Mom!” he smiled. “And hello, Vera Nikolayevna!”
“Seryozhenka!” Tatyana Semyonovna was delighted. “We were just discussing renovations. These bookshelves need to be removed and…”
“Serge,” Marina cut in, “do you hear this? Your mother wants to renovate MY apartment!”
Sergey froze in confusion on the threshold.
“Marina, come on…”
“What about me?” Marina felt everything boil inside. “I’ve put up for a month with your mother taking over my home! My kitchen! My things!”
Tatyana Semyonovna pursed her lips:
“How selfish you are, Marina! I’m just trying to help!”
“Help?!” Marina couldn’t hold back. “You’re not helping—you’re taking over! You come without an invitation, you boss us around, you bring your friends!”
Vera Nikolayevna shifted uncomfortably on the couch.
“Tanechka, maybe I should go?”
“Don’t go anywhere,” Marina said firmly. “I want you to hear this too.”
She straightened up, clenched her fists, and looked her mother-in-law straight in the eye:
“Tatyana Semyonovna, this apartment is my home. It’s registered to me from before the marriage. Neither you nor anyone else has the right to run things here. I’m glad to have you as a guest, but I set the rules in this house. Please respect that.”
Silence settled over the room. Tatyana Semyonovna looked as if she’d been slapped. Vera Nikolayevna lowered her eyes. And Sergey… Sergey was silent, but his gaze rested on Marina with a new expression.
“You… how dare you,” Tatyana Semyonovna turned pale. “Sergey! Say something!”
Sergey looked from his mother to his wife. The tension hung in the room, thick as jelly.
“Mom,” he finally said, “Marina is right.”
“What?!” Tatyana Semyonovna jumped up. “You’re against your own mother?”
“I’m not against you,” Sergey walked over to Marina and stood beside her. “But this really is our home, and Marina has the right to set the rules.”
Vera Nikolayevna awkwardly rose from the couch.
“I think I’ll be going…”
“And I’m leaving too!” Tatyana Semyonovna grabbed her bag. “Ungrateful! I was trying to do my best for you, and you…”
She didn’t finish, sharply turned, and headed for the door. Vera Nikolayevna scurried after her.
“Goodbye,” Marina said quietly.
The door slammed. Marina and Sergey were left alone.
“You stood up for me,” Marina looked at her husband. “Thank you.”
Sergey sighed and hugged her.
“Sorry I didn’t do it sooner. Mom… she’s always been like that. Bossing, deciding for me. I got used to obeying.”
“I know,” Marina pressed against him. “But this is our life, Serge. Only ours.”
For three days the phone was silent.
Tatyana Semyonovna didn’t call, didn’t come. In a way Marina felt relieved; in another, anxious.
“Do you think she’s very offended?” she asked Sergey over dinner.
“Of course,” he shrugged. “But it’ll do her good. You know, I’ve wanted to tell her for a long time… but I didn’t dare.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Not exactly afraid…” Sergey hesitated. “I just didn’t want to upset her. She’s alone since Dad died.”
“I understand,” Marina nodded. “But we need personal space too.”
On the fourth day the phone rang. Sergey picked up and listened for a long time. Marina watched his face.
“All right, Mom,” he said at last. “We’ll expect you on Saturday.”
He hung up and turned to Marina.
“She wants to come over. Says we need to talk.”
On Saturday Tatyana Semyonovna came. She looked restrained, even a little embarrassed.
“Come in,” Marina opened the door.
The mother-in-law entered and handed over a cake box.
“Here, for tea.”
They sat at the table. Tatyana Semyonovna was silent for a moment, then raised her eyes to Marina.
“I’ve been thinking a lot these days. You’re right, I behaved… improperly.”
Marina blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected those words.
“You see,” Tatyana Semyonovna went on, “when you get older, you want to feel needed, important. And it’s scary to end up alone. So I…” she trailed off.
“Mom,” Sergey said gently, “we’re always happy to see you. We just need our space respected.”
“I understand,” she nodded. “And I’ll try. Really.”
Two months passed.
Marina stood at the window and watched Tatyana Semyonovna walking toward their building. Now her mother-in-law came only by invitation or after calling ahead. She no longer bossed them around, didn’t rearrange things, and—most surprisingly—even consulted Marina on household matters.
“Marina, Mom’s coming,” Sergey hugged his wife from behind.
“I see,” Marina smiled. “You know, she’s changed.”
“We all have,” Sergey kissed the top of her head.
Marina nodded. It was true. She had become more confident, learned to defend her boundaries—not only at home but also at work. Sergey stopped running back and forth between his wife and his mother and found a balance. And Tatyana Semyonovna… it seemed she had finally accepted that her son was an adult with a life of his own.