“I clearly remember leaving the new blouse on the bed,” Alina muttered, rummaging through the closet. A strange feeling hadn’t left her for weeks. Things in the apartment seemed to have a life of their own—moving around, disappearing, then turning up in unexpected places.
The phone rang suddenly, making her jump. Her husband’s name lit up on the screen.
“Yes, Lyosha?”
“Alina, why did you change the locks? Mom can’t get into the apartment,” Lesha’s voice sounded irritated and accusatory.
Alina straightened and gripped the phone tighter. The moment of truth had come sooner than she expected.
“And why does your mother need to get into our apartment when we’re not home?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
“What kind of question is that? She’s always had a key. For six years everything was fine, and now suddenly it’s a problem?”
“Lesha, we need to talk, but not over the phone. I’ll explain everything this evening.”
“Explain what? That my mother now has to stand at the door like a stranger?” His voice carried growing irritation.
“This evening, Lesha. I don’t want to discuss it now.”
Alina hung up and sank heavily onto the edge of the bed. In six years of marriage, this was their first serious conflict. She knew that Yelena Yakovlevna would not forgive such insolence, but she couldn’t put up with it any longer.
It had all started three months ago. Alina had come home earlier than usual because a meeting at the archives, where she worked, was canceled. No one was supposed to be in the apartment—Lesha always stayed late at work. But something felt off. The couch cushions were slightly moved, the wardrobe door—one she always kept closed—was ajar, and two yogurts she’d bought that morning were missing from the fridge.
Alina chalked it up to her own forgetfulness. But the oddities continued. Things ended up in places she hadn’t left them. Food disappeared. Once she couldn’t find a hair clip she was sure she’d left on the nightstand.
“Am I losing my mind?” Alina whispered under her breath, staring at the brand-new lock on the door.
Two days ago she finally got confirmation of her suspicions. A small camera installed in the hallway recorded her mother-in-law entering the apartment, looking around, and heading confidently to the bedroom. The recording ended half an hour later—Yelena Yakovlevna left the apartment carrying some papers.
Alina clenched her fists. Changing the locks had been impulsive, but she didn’t regret it. It was time to dot all the i’s…
Lesha got home late. His face showed a mix of irritation and confusion.
“Well, talk,” he said, tossing his briefcase into the corner of the entryway without even taking off his shoes. “What’s going on?”
Alina took a deep breath.
“Lesha, your mother comes to our apartment when we’re not home. And she doesn’t just check if everything’s okay. She goes through our things.”
“What nonsense?” Lesha finally took off his shoes and went to the kitchen. “Mom sometimes stops by to water the plants or bring something. No one is rifling through anything.”
“I thought so too until I started noticing strange things. Things being rearranged, food disappearing…”
“Alina, you’re exaggerating. Mom takes care of us. Maybe she just decided to tidy up or took the yogurts because they were about to expire.”
Alina silently took out her phone and played the video. On the screen, Yelena Yakovlevna methodically sorted through documents in a desk drawer, then took a box of Alina’s personal items out of the closet.
Lesha stared without blinking. His face slowly changed, his brows drawing together.
“This… this might not be what it looks like,” he finally said. “Maybe she was looking for some old photos or documents.”
“In my personal things? In the drawer where I keep my papers and notes? Lesha, she even checked my phone when I accidentally left it at home!”
Lesha rubbed his face with his hands.
“Let’s talk to her together. There must be an explanation.”
“Of course,” Alina said with a bitter smile. “And what do you suggest? Say, ‘Ms. Yelena, we noticed you’re spying on us, could you explain why?’”
“Don’t twist my words. Mom isn’t spying. She…” He trailed off, looking again at the phone screen where his mother carefully put things back, trying to leave everything as it was.
“I suggest we invite her to dinner tomorrow and discuss it calmly,” Lesha said at last. “No accusations. Just find out what’s going on.”
Alina sighed. She knew a calm conversation was unlikely, but there was no choice.
“Fine. But I’m not giving her a new key until we figure this out.”
Lesha nodded, though it was obvious he didn’t like his wife’s decision…
Yelena Yakovlevna appeared at the door precisely at six in the evening. A tall, trim woman with a perfect hairstyle and an intent gaze. In her hands—a bag of groceries.
“I had to ring the bell like a stranger,” she said instead of a greeting as she walked in. “Alinochka, what are these innovations?”
“Mom, come in,” Lesha took the bag from her. “We were just going to talk.”
“About what, son?” Yelena went to the kitchen and sat at the table, watching her daughter-in-law closely. “About how your wife suddenly decided to cut herself off from the family?”
Alina clenched her teeth but kept silent as she set out the dishes.
“Mom, the thing is…” Lesha faltered, unsure how to begin. “We noticed you’ve been coming here when we aren’t home.”
“Of course I come!” Yelena spread her hands. “I take care of you. I check that everything is in order, I bring groceries. Is that so bad?”
“That’s not the point,” Alina interjected. “You don’t just stop by to check the apartment. You… go through our personal things.”
Yelena theatrically pressed a hand to her chest.
“What an accusation! I simply keep things in order. I might move something so it looks tidy…”
“Ms. Yelena, we have a recording,” Alina said quietly but firmly. “You were looking for something in my documents, checking my phone, going through my personal items.”
Her mother-in-law’s face changed. For a moment something like fear flashed in it, but she quickly composed herself.
“What recording? Are you spying on me?” Her voice rose. “Spying on your own mother? Leshenka, look what your wife has driven you to!”
“Mom, we’re not spying. But Alina noticed strange things and decided to check,” Lesha spoke gently, clearly trying to avoid a fight. “Why were you looking at her documents?”
“I did nothing of the sort!” Yelena pursed her lips. “Maybe I was looking for something you needed. Maybe the old apartment contract. You remember that, formally, this apartment is still in your father’s and my name?”
Alina’s head snapped up. This was news. Lesha had always said the apartment belonged to them.
“What?” She looked at her husband. “Lesh, you said the apartment was ours.”
Lesha looked flustered.
“I thought Dad had transferred it… He promised.”
“You see, Alinochka,” Yelena smiled, “you’re acting so aggressive, and yet you’re essentially living in my apartment. And changing locks in my apartment.”
Dinner was ruined. Voices rose, and finally Yelena declared she wouldn’t tolerate such treatment and left, slamming the door loudly.
“Why did you go at her like that?” Lesha asked when they were alone. “She’s only trying to care for us.”
“Lesha, open your eyes! That’s not care, it’s control,” Alina felt despair rising inside. “And now there’s this whole apartment story. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was sure Dad had transferred it before… before he passed away,” Lesha lowered his head. “Tomorrow I’ll check the documents.”
Alina nodded. Something told her this was only the beginning of their problems…
The next few days passed in tense silence. Lesha checked the apartment papers and discovered it really was still registered to his parents. Yelena called every day, but spoke only to her son, ignoring her daughter-in-law.
On Friday evening the doorbell rang. On the threshold stood Marina, Lesha’s cousin, whom Alina had seen only a couple of times over the years of marriage.
“Hi! Thought I’d drop by,” Marina smiled, but worry showed in her eyes. “May I come in?”
They sat in the kitchen, and Marina nervously turned the cup in her hands.
“Aunt Lena called my mom,” she finally said. “She was telling her what a terrible daughter-in-law you are and how you kicked her out of the apartment.”
Alina sighed.
“I didn’t kick anyone out. I just changed the locks because she came in without asking and went through our things.”
Marina gave a mirthless smile.
“That’s what I figured. You know, she did the same to my first husband. She’d come over when we weren’t there, check our things, our phones. And then she started spreading rumors…”
“Rumors?” Alina leaned forward.
“Yes. She called his mother and said I was allegedly texting with an ex. It was actually my cousin, but my mother-in-law made a scene, my husband believed her… In short, the marriage didn’t survive.”
“But why would she do that?” Alina couldn’t understand Yelena’s motives.
“Control,” Marina answered simply. “She has to control everything, be at the center of events, run other people’s lives. She used to be a school principal, got used to commanding. Now she’s retired, and the only sphere of influence left is the family.”
Just then Lesha came home. Seeing Marina, he was surprised but pleased.
“What brings you here?” He hugged his cousin. “Haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I came to warn you that Aunt Lena is on the warpath,” Marina gave Alina a meaningful look. “And to tell you something else.”
By the end of the evening it became clear that Yelena’s “reconnaissance work” wasn’t limited to their home. She knew about cousin Kostya’s debts, Marina’s problems at work, and neighbor Vera Petrovna’s affair. And she used all that knowledge to manipulate people.
“So she’s been spying on the entire family?” Lesha looked shocked. “That can’t be.”
“It can,” Marina shrugged. “And she’s been doing it for years. Everyone stays quiet because they’re afraid to ruin the relationship. She’s a master at playing the victim.”
When Marina left, Lesha sat for a long time in silence, staring at one spot.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said at last. “This has to stop.”
“She won’t admit there’s a problem,” Alina shook her head. “To her, this is normal.”
“Then we’ll have to set clear boundaries,” Lesha said firmly. “And first of all, transfer the apartment to us…”
Lesha’s birthday was supposed to be a moment of reconciliation. Alina hoped the festive atmosphere would smooth the rough edges. Guests gathered at their place—relatives, friends, colleagues.
Yelena arrived last, with a huge cake and a sentimental speech about how happy she was to see everyone together.
“Leshenka, my son, I’m so proud of you,” she hugged him, throwing a triumphant glance at Alina. “It’s just a pity that lately someone’s been trying to drive a wedge between us.”
Alina pretended not to hear the last remark and kept pouring drinks.
The evening went on. Lesha accepted congratulations, guests chatted, the atmosphere was almost relaxed. But Alina noticed her mother-in-law periodically pulling one guest or another aside for a “private talk.”
After her third glass, Yelena grew louder and more confident. She took center stage and began telling stories from her son’s life.
“And I also remember how little Alinochka had a fit when she found out Lesha went fishing with his colleague Sveta,” she suddenly said, looking straight at her daughter-in-law. “Such a jealous girl.”
Silence fell over the room. Alina froze. She had never had a tantrum over her husband’s colleagues, much less shared such things with her mother-in-law. The only time she’d mentioned Sveta was in her personal diary, which she kept in a desk drawer.
“Mom, what are you talking about?” Lesha frowned. “That never happened.”
“How could it not?” Yelena threw up her hands theatrically. “Alina herself wrote that she was jealous of that… what’s her name… ‘long-legged blonde Sveta.’ I remember exactly!”
“You remember?” Alina slowly stood up. “And from where, Ms. Yelena? I never told you anything like that.”
Her mother-in-law was taken aback for an instant, but recovered quickly:
“You told me yourself when we were having tea. Have you forgotten already?”
“No, I haven’t,” Alina went to the cabinet and took out a small folder. “Because I never said it. I wrote it in my personal diary. Which you obviously read without my permission.”
The guests began glancing at each other. The situation was getting awkward.
“What nonsense!” Yelena tried to laugh it off, but it came out false. “Why would I read your notes?”
“For the same reason you read Marina’s private messages,” Alina opened the folder. “And looked through Kostya’s financial documents. And snooped through Vera Petrovna’s phone when you were helping with her renovation.”
“That’s all lies!” Yelena’s face flushed. “Lesha, are you going to let her talk to your mother like that?”
Lesha looked bewildered, but said firmly:
“Mom, if this is true…”
“Of course it’s not!” Yelena cut him off. “This girl just wants to turn you against me! She always has! From the very beginning she tried to push you away from your mother!”
“Here’s the proof,” Alina began taking out photographs, screenshots of messages, and audio clips. “Here you are entering our apartment when we’re out. Here you’re checking my phone. And here you are telling the neighbor personal details about Marina that you could only have learned from her messages.”
The guests stared at the evidence laid out on the table in amazement. Marina, who was at the party, came up and picked up one of the photos.
“Aunt Lena, so it was you who told my boss I was looking for another job?” her voice trembled. “Because of you I was almost fired!”
“I meant well!” Yelena went on the offensive. “You’re all ungrateful! I care about you, I think about your well-being, and you…”
“You don’t care,” Alina said quietly. “You control. And you use information to manipulate us.”
“Leshenka,” Yelena turned to her son, “you don’t believe all this, do you? This is some conspiracy against me!”
Lesha looked at his mother for a long time, then at the evidence on the table, then back at his mother.
“Mom, we need to have a serious talk,” he said at last. “Privately.”
Yelena shot Alina a triumphant smile and left the room with her son. The guests began to slip away, feeling uncomfortable.
Half an hour later, the door opened. Lesha came out alone, looking exhausted.
“She left,” he told Alina. “She said if we’re all against her, she won’t stand in the way.”
“And now what?”
“Now we need to re-register the apartment. I found the papers—Dad did transfer it to me before he passed. Mom just… hid it…”
A month passed. The apartment was officially re-registered in Alina and Lesha’s names. Yelena did not get keys to the new locks, though Lesha continued to visit his mother from time to time.
“She won’t admit she was wrong,” he reported after another visit. “She says we’re all ungrateful and she was only trying to help.”
“Did you expect anything else?” Alina had made peace with the fact that there would be no reconciliation.
“I hoped,” Lesha sighed. “But it seems she’ll never change.”
Stories about “the evil daughter-in-law who turned a son against his own mother” spread through the family. Yelena called all the relatives, the neighbors, even Lesha’s former colleagues, telling her version of events.
But to Alina’s surprise, most relatives took their side. It turned out many had suffered from Yelena’s excessive “attention” and had long been waiting for someone to put a stop to it.
One evening, while Alina and Lesha were watching a movie, the doorbell rang. Yelena stood on the threshold.
“I came to talk,” she said, looking past Alina. “May I come in?”
They sat in the kitchen, the tension thick enough to cut.
“I’ve been thinking,” Yelena began, “that perhaps sometimes I was a bit… intrusive.”
Alina and Lesha exchanged glances. It was the first time the mother-in-law had admitted even a sliver of fault.
“But I did it out of love,” she immediately added. “And I think you’re exaggerating the problem.”
“Mom, you read personal diaries, checked phones, spread gossip,” Lesha spoke calmly but firmly. “That’s not care; that’s a violation of privacy.”
“And now you’re pushing me away because of that?” Tears welled in Yelena’s eyes. “I devoted so many years to the family, and now I’m left alone!”
“You’re not alone,” Lesha took his mother’s hand. “I’ll always be there for you. But we need boundaries. You can’t come over uninvited, rummage through our things, or meddle in our lives.”
“Boundaries,” Yelena shook her head. “Young people only talk about those nowadays. In my time, family mattered more than any boundaries.”
“That’s just it, Mom. Alina and I are our own family. With our own rules and our own life.”
Yelena was silent for a long time, then stood up.
“Fine. I understand. You want to distance yourselves from me,” she said, heading for the door. “But when you realize I was right, it will be too late.”
After she left, Alina hugged her husband.
“She won’t change, will she?”
“No,” Lesha shook his head. “But we’ve changed. And that’s what matters.”
They did not reconcile with the mother-in-law. Yelena continued to play the role of the wronged victim, telling everyone about the “ungrateful daughter-in-law.” But it no longer had the same effect. Lesha kept limited contact with his mother, visited her, but didn’t allow her to interfere in their lives.
Alina and Lesha began to rebuild their life, establishing healthy relationships not only with his mother, but with other relatives as well. Their marriage, having gone through this trial, grew stronger. They learned to talk openly about problems and find solutions together.
And the new locks on their apartment became a symbol—sometimes you need to close the door on some people to open it for others, for the relationships that truly matter.