Lena stood on the threshold of her bedroom, staring at the wreck Valentina Petrovna had made of her closet. Half the shelves gaped empty, as if a hurricane had blown through. On the bed lay a neat stack of survivors—gray blouses, dark knee-length skirts, nondescript cardigans. Everything her mother-in-law deemed fit for a married woman.
— Where are my things? — Lena’s voice trembled with restrained fury.
Without turning from the mirror, where she was hanging a new frame with a photo of some man, Valentina Petrovna answered coolly:
— I threw out those unsuitable rags. It’s improper for a married woman to wear such provocative outfits. Now you look like a respectable wife for my son.
Lena felt something snap inside her. A year. An entire year she had endured this tyranny dressed up as “care.” A year of lectures on the correct way to cook borscht, fold laundry, greet her husband. A year of watching her two-room apartment turn into a museum of bad taste, cluttered with trinkets and pictures of kittens.
— That was my favorite red blouse! — Lena felt tears pricking her eyes. — And the blue dress Andrei gave me for my birthday!
— It was too short, — the mother-in-law shrugged, driving another nail into the wall. — And the neckline was indecent. What would people think? That my son married a frivolous woman?
— Andrei! — Lena shouted, running into the hallway. — Andrei, get in here right now!
Her husband appeared from the kitchen with a sandwich in his hand, smiling guiltily.
— Len, what happened? Mom said she just wanted to help you sort your wardrobe…
— Help? — Lena nearly choked with indignation. — She threw out half my clothes! Without my permission! While I was OUT!
Andrei shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.
— Well, Mom, maybe you should have asked first… — he began timidly.
— What’s there to ask? — Valentina Petrovna came out of the bedroom holding a drill. — In a family everything is shared. The apartment is shared, the things are shared. As the elder woman in the house I have the right to set things in order.
— Shared? — Cold rage flooded Lena’s veins. — What do you mean shared? I bought this apartment with my own money before we got married! I sold my grandmother’s studio and added my savings!
— Lenka, don’t shout, — Andrei pleaded, but there was no firmness in his voice. — Mom’s an older woman, it’s hard for her alone in her place. The elevator doesn’t work, the heating’s bad…
— But it’s easy for her to wreck my life here! — Lena turned to her mother-in-law. — I’ve put up with your lectures for a year! For a year you’ve been rearranging my furniture, hanging your pictures, teaching me how to live! But this is too much!
Valentina Petrovna set the drill on the nightstand and folded her arms.
— I’m educating you, you ungrateful girl. Teaching you to be a good wife. And you raise your voice at your elder. Where is your respect?
— Respect? — Lena felt the last thread of patience snap. — For someone who treats my things like her own? For someone who turned my apartment into a warehouse of your knick-knacks in a year?
A shadow of surprise crossed the mother-in-law’s face—this was the first time in a year Lena had spoken to her in a raised voice.
— Andrei! Do you hear how your wife is speaking to me? — Valentina Petrovna appealed to her son.
But Lena could no longer hold back. The red blouse her mother-in-law had thrown away was a gift from her best friend. The blue dress was Andrei’s first gift. In those discarded things were memories, pieces of her life, her identity.
— That’s it! — Lena turned to her mother-in-law and, for the first time in a year, looked her straight in the eyes. — Enough! I’m not putting up with this anymore!
— Lenochka, calm down, — Andrei tried to intervene, but his wife waved him off.
— No, I won’t calm down! — she switched to the informal “you,” making Valentina Petrovna raise her brows. — If you have the strength to rearrange furniture, throw out my things, and drill holes in the walls, then you’re perfectly capable of climbing up to the fifth floor of your own apartment!
— How dare you! — the mother-in-law flared. — I’m your husband’s mother!
— So what? Does that give you the right to run my life? — Lena went to the door and flung it wide. — This apartment is mine, premarital, which means get out! — driven to the limit, the daughter-in-law pointed to the door.
Valentina Petrovna froze, mouth open. Andrei turned pale.
— Lena, what are you doing? Mom…
— Your mom will manage just fine! — Lena stood her ground by the door. — If she can spend hours rifling through my closet, hauling furniture, and hanging shelves, then she’s perfectly capable of living on her own!
— Andryusha! — the mother-in-law threw up her hands to her son. — Will you let her treat me like this?
Andrei darted between his wife and mother, at a loss for words. Lena could see his confusion, but she wasn’t going to yield any longer.
— Choose, — she said to her husband. — Either she packs her things and goes back to her own apartment, or I file for divorce. And this is MY apartment, and I have every right to decide who lives in it.
Valentina Petrovna tried to take her usual tone:
— Foolish girl, Elena. There should be no “mine” and “yours” in a family. Everything is shared.
— NOT SHARED! — Lena exploded. — This is MY apartment, bought with MY money, BEFORE marriage! And if you can’t accept that and respect boundaries, then there is no place for you here!
The mother-in-law looked helplessly at her son.
— Andrei, say something to her…
But looking at his wife’s pale, determined face, Andrei realized the game was over. He had never seen Lena like this. A year ago she had been soft, compliant. She agreed with his mother, tried to please her. But now another woman stood before him—firm, unyielding.
— Mom, — he said quietly, — maybe it really would be better…
— What? — Valentina Petrovna couldn’t believe her ears. — You’re on her side?
— I’m on the side of peace in the family, — Andrei answered, avoiding his mother’s gaze. — And if Lena is saying this… Maybe she really does need her personal space.
In silence, Valentina Petrovna went to her room. Lena heard her start packing suitcases. Every sound—the rustle of clothing, the creak of the case—echoed in Lena’s chest with a strange mix of relief and guilt.
Andrei walked up to his wife.
— Len, maybe you shouldn’t be so harsh? She is an older woman after all…
— Older, but energetic, — Lena replied dryly. — If she can remake my life, she can get her own in order.
An hour later, Valentina Petrovna stood at the threshold with two suitcases. Her face was like stone, lips pressed into a thin line.
— Remember this, Elena, — she said before leaving, — family is sacred. And you’re destroying it.
— I’m preserving it, — Lena answered calmly. — Preserving it from being destroyed.
Andrei helped his mother down to the car and loaded the suitcases. From the window, Lena watched them drive away. In her chest a strange feeling stirred—relief mixed with anxiety.
When her husband returned, he found his wife in the bedroom. She was sitting on the bed holding a photograph—their wedding picture.
— Len, — Andrei began carefully, — don’t you regret it?
— Regret what? — she asked without looking up.
— That you were so hard on my mom.
Lena finally raised her eyes to him.
— Do you regret letting her turn my life into a nightmare for a whole year?
Andrei sat down beside her.
— I thought she just wanted to help…
— Help? — Lena gave a short laugh. — Helping is when you ask permission. When you handle someone else’s things and space without asking, that’s called a takeover.
They sat in silence. Andrei looked around the apartment with new eyes. In a year it had truly become unrecognizable. His mother’s trinkets stood everywhere, her pictures hung on the walls, even the furniture had been rearranged to her taste.
— You know, — he said at last, — I only now realize how little of you is left here.
Lena nodded:
— I felt like a guest in my own home. Every day I had to prove my right to my opinion, my habits, my things.
— And Mom… will she really manage?
— Of course she will, — Lena stood and went to the window. — You saw with what enthusiasm she was rebuilding our place? She has enough energy for ten.
Andrei went to the window too.
— She called. She said she’ll miss us.
Lena said nothing. She looked at the evening city and thought how tomorrow, for the first time in a year, she would wake up to silence. No critical remarks about breakfast, no advice on how to make the bed “properly.”
— Len, — Andrei put an arm around her shoulders, — forgive me. I should have protected you sooner.
— You should have, — she agreed, without pulling away from his embrace. — But you didn’t. You were more afraid of upsetting your mother than upsetting your wife.
— I thought you were coping…
— I was. Until today. — Lena turned to her husband. — But when she threw out my things, that was the last straw. It wasn’t just a boundary violation; it was a personal insult.
Andrei nodded.
— Now I understand.
The next month passed in an odd quiet. Valentina Petrovna called her son every day, but didn’t speak to Lena. Little by little, Lena restored the apartment to its former look—put away the knick-knacks, rehung the pictures, arranged the furniture the way she liked it.
When Andrei brought out the rest of his mother’s belongings from her room, Lena helped pack them. They worked in silence, but without malice. They were simply doing what should have been done long ago.
— What if Mom stops talking to us altogether? — Andrei asked, folding his mother’s throws into a box.
— She won’t, — Lena said calmly. — She’ll just learn to respect boundaries.
And indeed, two months later, Valentina Petrovna came to visit for the first time. She brought a pie and behaved pointedly politely. She didn’t criticize Lena’s cooking, didn’t give advice, didn’t rearrange anything.
At the table she cautiously asked:
— Lenochka, that red blouse… is there any chance we can buy the same one?
Lena looked at her mother-in-law.
— It didn’t have to be thrown out.
Valentina Petrovna nodded.
— Maybe I went too far then. I just wanted what’s best.
— What’s best is when you ask, — Lena said, firm but without rancor.
After she left, Andrei remarked:
— She’s changed.
— No, — Lena shook her head, — she just realized I can push back and put her in her place.
They embraced, standing in the middle of their apartment, which had become their home again. Lena understood that sometimes you have to bare your teeth so people stop thinking you’re harmless. And that loving your family doesn’t mean dissolving yourself in it entirely.
And from then on, Valentina Petrovna called less often and always asked whether it would be convenient if she came to visit. She learned to knock instead of letting herself in with her own keys. And she never touched Lena’s things without permission again.
Because she understood: everyone must have their own boundaries, even in a family. Especially in a family.