Staring at that computer again! Normal women go to work, but you sit here pretending to be busy. Sergey busts his back to feed you, and you’re just playing games!”
Klavdiya Petrovna swept through the kitchen so hard the cupboard doors rattled. Veronika didn’t lift her eyes from the screen. The quarterly report had to be submitted by noon, and her mother-in-law was starting the same song for the third time that morning.
Ten months of this hell. Ten months of Veronika listening to how she was a parasite.
“Klavdiya Petrovna, I need to work.”
“Work!” her mother-in-law spun around, hands on her hips. “You tap the keys and that’s work? My Seryozha disappears in sales until late at night, and what do you do? The day goes by and that’s that? You should be ashamed! You’re sitting on my son like a tick!”
Veronika set her pen on the table. Slowly closed the laptop.
“Klavdiya Petrovna, do you really think that?”
“What else am I supposed to think! I’m not blind—I see what you do all day. You stare out the window, chatter on the phone. And Seryozha is carrying you both.”
“Got it.” Veronika stood up. “Then we’ll talk about it this evening. With Sergey present. And since you’re so worried about who’s sitting on whom.”
Something in her voice made her mother-in-law fall silent. But not for long.
Sergey came in at half past six. Both women were sitting at the table. A folder lay on the tabletop.
“What happened?” he asked cautiously, stepping into the kitchen.
“Sit down,” Veronika nodded to the chair. “Your mom thinks I’m freeloading off you. That my work is just fooling around, and you’re the only one supporting the family. Am I repeating that correctly, Klavdiya Petrovna?”
His mother nodded. Her face was tight, her lips pressed thin.
“Mom, we already—”
“Sergey, don’t interrupt.” Veronika opened the folder. “I agree with your mother. Parasites really should move out of other people’s homes.”
She laid a certificate of ownership on the table.
“See the date, Klavdiya Petrovna? I bought this apartment four years before the wedding. With my own money. Sergey didn’t put a single kopeck into it, because this is my property. He pays part of the utilities by agreement. And you’ve been living here for free for ten months and telling me how to live in my own house.”
Klavdiya Petrovna snatched up the papers. Scanned them. Turned pale.
“This… Seryozha, you knew?”
“Of course. I told you from the beginning that it’s Veronika’s apartment. You didn’t listen.”
“But you work…”
“I do. And I earn pretty well,” Sergey rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But Veronika earns twice what I do. She has a client base she’s worked with for years. Just because she’s at home doesn’t mean she’s doing nothing.”
Veronika pulled out a second document.
“A lease agreement. A one-room apartment in the next block. I paid three months in advance and put down a deposit. This is for you, Klavdiya Petrovna. Consider it a farewell gift for ten months of humiliation.”
Silence. Her mother-in-law stared at the papers without blinking.
“You’re kicking me out?”
“I’m taking my home back.” Veronika folded her hands in her lap. “You can hand in the keys tomorrow. Or the day after. But I’m not going to keep listening to how I’m lazy—in my own apartment. That’s it.”
“Seryozha!” his mother whirled to her son. “You’ll let her do this to me?”
Sergey was silent. Then he slowly shook his head.
“Mom, enough. Veronika’s right. You can’t live here and insult my wife every day. I’m tired. I’m scared to come home because I know you’ve fought again. I’m sick of being between you. Sick of being a coward.”
“So you choose her, not me? Your own mother?”
“I’m choosing my family.” He looked at Veronika. “And peace. I want to come home without being afraid it’s about to start.”
Klavdiya Petrovna grabbed the papers and left the kitchen. She slammed the door to the room so hard the glass in the display cabinet rattled.
In the morning, she came out with two suitcases. Her face was stone, her eyes red. She walked past Veronika without looking at her, picked up the keys to the new apartment from the table, and turned in the doorway.
“You separated me from my son. He’ll never forgive you for this.”
“I gave him his wife back,” Veronika didn’t look up from her laptop. “And I gave you what you demanded—independence. Now you can work a normal job, like you advised me. Good luck.”
The door slammed shut. Silence fell over the apartment—so dense Veronika felt the tension of ten months slowly drain from her shoulders. She opened the window. Fresh air rushed in, chasing away the stale smell of someone else’s presence.
Sergey called an hour later.
“She’s at my workplace. Crying, demanding I make you change your mind.”
“And what did you say?”
“That it’s time she learned to live on her own. That I’m tired of being between you.” He paused. “That you’re right.”
Veronika closed her eyes. Exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“No. Thank you—for not leaving earlier. I was a coward, Nika. Ten months I was a coward.”
“But not now. That’s what matters.”
Three weeks later, Sergey came home with a smirk.
“Mom found a job.”
“Fast.”
“At the store across from her apartment. As a cashier.” He tossed his jacket aside and sat at the table. “You know what she told me? That it’s temporary. That soon she’ll find something respectable, not a job like that.”
Veronika raised an eyebrow.
“A normal job where people work their tails off. Her words.”
“Yeah. But when she’s the one standing behind the register at six in the morning, suddenly it doesn’t count.” Sergey shook his head. “She still doesn’t get it.”
“She will. When she gets tired of telling everyone else how to live.”
He hugged her and rested his forehead on the top of her head.
“My boss told me I’m getting promoted next week. My salary will go up a lot.”
“Seryozha, that’s great!”
“I told him I’d still be earning less than my wife.” He grinned. “And that I couldn’t care less. You should’ve seen his face.”
Veronika laughed—for the first time in months, genuinely, without that tightness in her chest.
“You learned.”
“From a good teacher.” Sergey kissed her temple. “I’m sorry it took me so long to learn.”
“The main thing is that you did.”
A month later, Klavdiya Petrovna called. Her voice was dry, strained.
“I’d like to come over. Talk. With both of you.”
Veronika looked at Sergey. He shrugged—your decision.
“Come on Saturday. Six p.m.”
Her mother-in-law arrived at exactly six. No robe—wearing a strict blouse, a bag of fruit in her hands. She sat across from Veronika and said nothing, studying the plate.
“How’s work?” Sergey asked.
“Hard.” Klavdiya Petrovna pressed her lips together. “My legs hum by evening. Customers are rude. The pay is pennies.”
“But it’s a normal job,” Veronika took a sip of water. “Where people work their tails off, remember?”
Her mother-in-law jerked as if slapped. She flushed.
“I didn’t come for that.”
“Then why?”
“To say you were right.” Klavdiya Petrovna lifted her eyes. “I sat in your place for ten months, did nothing, and told you how to live. Thought I had the right because I’m Sergey’s mother. Turns out I didn’t. The apartment isn’t yours as a couple, the money isn’t only his, and I was basically extra.”
“Not extra,” Veronika shook her head. “A guest. Who decided she was the owner.”
“Yes. A guest.” Her mother-in-law hesitated. “Now I know what it’s like—living off someone else’s money and hearing that you’re worthless. My supervisor tells me that every day. And I understand what you felt.”
Sergey put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” Klavdiya Petrovna continued. “Because I don’t know if I have the right. But I understood. That this is your home, Veronika. That Seryozha chose you—and that it’s right. And that I was a nightmare of a mother-in-law.”
Veronika stayed quiet. Then she stood, walked over, and placed her hand on her mother-in-law’s shoulder.
“I don’t hold a grudge. But the boundaries stay. You can come visit, call. But you won’t tell me how to live anymore. Agreed?”
Klavdiya Petrovna nodded—quickly, sharply.
“Agreed.”
When she left, Sergey hugged Veronika and didn’t let go for a long time.
“Didn’t think she was capable of admitting she was wrong.”
“People change when they don’t have a choice.” Veronika leaned into his shoulder. “Your mom got used to commanding because everyone allowed it. And when I set boundaries, she had to face reality. And she managed.”
“You’re defending her?”
“No. I just don’t see the point of holding onto anger when someone has changed.” Veronika smiled. “I have my home, my life, and a husband who finally stood on my side. That’s what matters.”
They sat by the window. The city buzzed beyond the glass with its normal life, but here, in their apartment, it was quiet. Truly quiet. No fear the door would open and a scandal would start. No tension hanging in the air for ten months.
Veronika looked at her husband. He was smiling—not strained, but real.
And she understood it hadn’t been for nothing. That sometimes you have to be tough to protect yourself. That kindness without firmness is weakness people take advantage of. And that her home really was hers—and no one would ever make her feel like an outsider in it again.
“What are you thinking about?” Sergey asked.
“That I kept silent for too long.” Veronika turned to him. “I should’ve put her in her place the very first month.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was afraid you’d choose her. That you’d say, ‘She’s my mother, endure it.’ That I’d end up being the guilty one.”
Sergey squeezed her hand.
“I’m an idiot that I made you think that.”
“Not an idiot. Just a son who didn’t know how to say ‘no’ to his mother.” She smirked. “Now you know how?”
“Now I do. Yesterday she called and asked if she could leave her winter clothes at our place because her apartment is small. I said no. Let her take them to the dry cleaner’s or rent a bigger place.”
“And what did she say?”
“Got offended. Hung up.” He shrugged. “Then called back an hour later and said I was right. That it’s time she learned to solve her own problems.”
Veronika leaned against him. Outside, the streetlights came on and the city lit up with evening glow. Their apartment, bathed in warm light, no longer felt like a battlefield. It was a home again.
“You know what’s the strangest thing?” Veronika said. “I don’t feel triumphant. I thought I’d celebrate when she left. That I’d gloat seeing her work for pennies. But I just feel calm.”
“That’s what victory is,” Sergey kissed her temple. “When you don’t need to prove you won.”
She smiled. He was right. She didn’t need proof. She didn’t need her mother-in-law’s apology—though she got it. She didn’t need recognition that she earned more—though that was said too. The main thing was something else: she had protected her space. Her home. Her life.
And taught her husband to protect it with her.
“Let’s go to bed,” she said. “We’re getting up early tomorrow.”
“For work?” he smirked. “That work that doesn’t exist?”
“Exactly for that.” Veronika stood and stretched. “Tomorrow I have a report for a major client. If it goes well, the bonus will be solid.”
“We’ll spend it on something nice?”
“On something for the two of us.” She took his hand. “Only for us.”
They went into the bedroom. Veronika closed the door and froze for a second, listening.
Silence. No footsteps in the hallway, no sighs behind the wall, no demonstrative door slams. Only quiet and peace.
Her home. Her rules. Her life.
And no one would ever dare tell her again that she was living wrong.
*** When Maria first brought Sergey home, what she feared most happened.
A scandal, tears, slammed doors… it seemed the family had split for good. But that very moment became the beginning of new trust.