Tatyana stood in the middle of the living room, unable to believe her own ears. Valentina Petrovna—her husband Oleg’s mother—was seated on the sofa with the kind of calm air someone has when they’ve just announced they’re going to the store for bread, not demanded that the family dacha be handed over.
“By tomorrow evening, there’d better be nobody left at your dacha. It’s mine now. I’ll be living there!” her mother-in-law repeated, smoothing the folds of her burgundy dress.
Tatyana slowly turned to her husband. Oleg was sitting in an armchair, buried in his tablet, pretending nothing was happening. His fingers slid mechanically across the screen, but Tatyana could see he wasn’t reading—just swiping back and forth.
“Oleg,” she called. “Did you hear what your mother just said?”
“Mmm?” he mumbled without looking up.
“Your mother is demanding our dacha. The one we built for three years. The one I poured my entire inheritance from my grandmother into.”
“Tanya, don’t be so harsh,” Oleg finally tore himself away from the tablet. “Mom just wants to live out in nature. Her health…”
“What health?!” Tatyana felt anger begin to boil inside her. “Your mother goes to yoga every day, swims in a pool, and dances salsa in the evenings!”
Valentina Petrovna rose from the sofa with regal composure. At sixty-two, her posture hadn’t suffered at all—back straight, chin held high.
“My dear,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “that dacha was built with my son’s money. Which means I have every right to live there.”
“With your son’s money?” Tatyana took a step forward. “It’s MY inheritance! Every brick, every board was paid for with my grandmother’s money!”
“Olezhka,” Valentina Petrovna addressed her son, pointedly ignoring her daughter-in-law. “Explain to your wife that elders must be respected. I need fresh air and peace. And you two are young—you can manage in the apartment.”
Oleg stood up, walked to his mother, and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Tanya, let’s not fight. Mom’s right—she needs rest. We can give in.”
“Give in?” Tatyana stared at her husband as if she were seeing him for the first time. “Give in… to something that’s mine by right?”
“Don’t yell at my son!” Valentina Petrovna snapped. “He deserves respect! And what are you? A housewife sitting on his neck!”
Tatyana worked as an elementary school teacher. Her salary was modest, but she always contributed to the family budget. And when they built the dacha—she put in every last penny.
“I work, Valentina Petrovna. And the dacha was built with MY money.”
“Ha!” her mother-in-law snorted. “Your pennies? My son supports this family, and you only spend!”
That evening Tatyana sat in the kitchen, mechanically stirring a spoon in a cup of tea that had gone cold long ago. Oleg had gone to see his mother off and still hadn’t returned, though three hours had already passed.
The phone on the table lit up—a message from her friend Marina: “How are you? Haven’t seen you in ages.”
Tatyana smirked. How was she? Her mother-in-law was demanding the dacha, her husband had taken his mother’s side, and she was sitting alone in an empty apartment, not understanding how she’d ended up with this life.
The front door slammed. Oleg walked into the kitchen, poured himself water from the tap, and drank it in one gulp.
“Where have you been for so long?” Tatyana asked without turning around.
“Talking to Mom. She’s very upset by your behavior.”
“My behavior upset her?” Tatyana spun around. “And the fact that she’s DEMANDING my dacha—is that normal?”
“Not yours—ours,” Oleg corrected. “And Mom isn’t demanding it, she’s asking. She has depression after retiring. She needs a change of scenery.”
“Depression?” Tatyana stood up so abruptly her chair toppled over. “A woman who entertains herself every day and spends your salary on fur coats—has depression?”
“Enough!” Oleg slammed his fist on the table. “That’s my mother! She raised me, paid for my education! And what have you done for our family?”
Tatyana looked at her husband and didn’t recognize him. Where was the caring, attentive man she’d married five years ago?
“I gave this family everything,” she said quietly. “My time, my strength, my money. I tolerated your mother’s whims, her constant dissatisfaction, her barbs. And now she wants to take the last thing I have.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Oleg waved her off. “The dacha isn’t going anywhere. Mom will live there a year or two, and then she’ll give it back.”
“A year or two? And you’ve already decided everything for me?”
“What is there to decide? Mom said so—so that’s how it’ll be. Tomorrow we’ll go and pack up our things.”
“No,” Tatyana said firmly.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Oleg frowned.
“I’m not giving up the dacha. It’s my inheritance, my property. The documents are in my name.”
Oleg stepped close, looming over her.
“Listen to me carefully. You’ll do what I said. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise what?” Tatyana lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Otherwise you’ll have to choose—either the dacha, or the family.”
The words hung between them like a taut string. Without a word, Tatyana walked past her husband, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Oleg called after her.
“To get some air. Your betrayal makes me sick.”
Tatyana spent the night at Marina’s. Her friend listened to the whole story, poured her cognac, and was silent for a long time.
“You know, Tanya,” she finally said, “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while. Your Oleg is a mama’s boy. And as long as Valentina Petrovna is alive, you’ll always come second.”
“But he loved me…” Tatyana cradled her head in her hands.
“He did. As long as Mommy allowed it. And now she’s decided to show who’s boss in this house.”
In the morning Tatyana returned home. Oleg was sitting at the kitchen table; some papers lay in front of him.
“Here,” he shoved the documents toward her. “A power of attorney for Mom. Sign it and we’ll close this topic.”
Tatyana picked up the papers and skimmed them. A general power of attorney to manage the dacha plot and the house.
“Have you lost your mind?” She threw the documents aside. “That’s basically a deed of gift!”
“Don’t make things up. It’s a regular power of attorney. Mom will live there, rest, and give it back.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“She will. She gave her word.”
Tatyana laughed—bitterly, desperately.
“Your mother’s word? The same woman who promised not to interfere in our lives? Who swore she’d treat me like a daughter?”
The doorbell rang. Oleg went to open it and came back with Valentina Petrovna and an unfamiliar man in a strict suit.
“This is a notary,” her mother-in-law explained. “So everything’s done legally.”
“You’ve already called a notary?” Tatyana rose from the table.
“Why drag it out?” Valentina Petrovna sat down. “Let’s get this signed quickly and go our separate ways. I still have to pack.”
“I’m NOT signing anything!”
“You will,” her mother-in-law replied calmly. “Or tomorrow you’ll move out of this apartment.”
“This is Oleg’s and my apartment!”
“Which was bought with money I gave my son as a wedding gift. Therefore, I have a say.”
Tatyana looked at Oleg. He was avoiding her gaze, studying the pattern on the wallpaper.
“Oleg, say something—anything!” she pleaded.
“Tanya, sign it. Don’t make it harder.”
“Yes, my dear, don’t make it harder,” Valentina Petrovna chimed in. “See? Even Olezhka understands I’m right. You want to keep your family, don’t you?”
The notary cleared his throat.
“If the lady doesn’t want to sign, I can’t—”
“She’ll sign,” Valentina Petrovna cut him off. “Won’t you, sweetheart?”
Tatyana took the pen. Her hand trembled with rage, with hurt, with the betrayal of the closest person in her life. She looked at Oleg—he nodded, as if to say, go on, sign.
“I need to think,” Tatyana said, setting the pen down.
“There’s nothing to think about!” her mother-in-law barked. “Either you sign now, or get out of my apartment!”
“Your apartment?” Tatyana straightened. “This is OUR apartment! And I’m not going anywhere!”
“Oh, is that how it is?” Valentina Petrovna pulled out her phone from her purse. “Oleg, tell your little wife about Kristina.”
Tatyana froze. Kristina? Who was Kristina?
Oleg went pale.
“Mom, don’t…”
“Yes, son, yes. Let her know who you spend your evenings with when you’re ‘working late.’”
“What is going on?” Tatyana looked from her husband to her mother-in-law. “Who is Kristina?”
Valentina Petrovna held out the phone. On the screen was a photo of Oleg in a restaurant with a young blonde woman. They were sitting close together, and the girl was holding his hand.
“Your husband has been seeing her for three months. A sweet girl—my friend’s daughter. Compliant, unlike some people.”
Cheating. On top of everything—cheating.
“Is it true?” Tatyana asked, looking at Oleg.
He stayed silent, staring at the floor.
“Answer me!” she screamed.
“What difference does it make?” Valentina Petrovna cut in. “Sign the papers and keep living. Or leave. Kristina will gladly take your place.”
And something inside Tatyana broke. But not the way Oleg and his mother expected. She didn’t cry. She didn’t beg. Instead, she straightened up and smiled coldly.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll sign.”
“Good girl!” her mother-in-law brightened.
Tatyana picked up the documents and the pen. Then, methodically—page by page—she tore everything into shreds.
“What are you DOING?!” Valentina Petrovna shrieked.
“What I should’ve done a long time ago,” Tatyana replied calmly. “Putting you in your place.”
She took out her phone and dialed a number.
“Dad? Yes, it’s me. Remember you offered me the contact of a good lawyer? I need it. Urgently.”
“What are you planning?” Oleg asked, alarmed.
“Divorce, darling. And division of property. The apartment was bought during the marriage—so it’s fifty-fifty. The dacha is in my name—it stays mine. And your mommy can live with you. Or with Kristina.”
“You won’t dare!” Valentina Petrovna sprang up.
“I will!” Tatyana stood up too. “And I’ll do it gladly! You know what, Valentina Petrovna? I endured your antics for five years. Your rudeness, your disrespect, the constant humiliation and GREED! You treated me like a servant!”
“How dare you—”
“Don’t INTERRUPT!” Tatyana roared so hard her mother-in-law stepped back—and the notary snickered. “You thought I’d keep silent forever? Endure it? Swallow your insults? No! Enough!”
The notary quietly gathered his things and headed for the door.
“I’ll wait outside,” he muttered, and disappeared.
“Oleg!” Valentina Petrovna screeched. “Do something!”
But Oleg was silent, stunned by the transformation of his wife. Quiet, calm Tatyana had suddenly turned into a fury.
“And you,” she turned to her husband, “you’re a traitor. Worse than your mother. At least she doesn’t hide her attitude toward me—her VILE NATURE. But you? You swore you loved me, promised to protect and cherish me. And what happened? The moment a real conflict appeared, you took Mommy’s side!”
“Tanya, let’s talk calmly…” Oleg tried.
“Tanya? TANYA?!” Tatyana burst into laughter. “Five minutes ago you were ready to throw me out into the street! And now it’s ‘Tanya’?”
She walked to the window and took a deep breath.
“Get out. Both of you. NOW.”
“This is our apartment!” Valentina Petrovna shrieked.
“Half of it is mine. And I have the right to be in my half. You don’t. So get OUT, before I call the police!”
“Mom, let’s go,” Oleg took her by the arm.
“No! I’m not leaving! This vile—”
“Enough!” Oleg raised his voice at his mother for the first time. “Enough, Mom! You ruined everything! Everything!”
A week passed. Tatyana sat on the veranda of her dacha, drinking mint tea and watching the sunset. The divorce was in full swing—the lawyer her father recommended was a true professional.
Her phone buzzed—a message from Oleg: “Tanya, let’s meet and talk.”
She deleted it without finishing. For the past week he had written every day, called, even come to the dacha. But Tatyana was unmoved.
Marina came to stay the night, bringing wine and chocolate.
“So how are you?” she asked, settling into a lounge chair nearby.
“You know, it’s strange, but… good. Like a stone fell off my soul.”
“And Oleg and his mommy?”
“They’re living together in that apartment. Kristina, by the way, dumped him as soon as she found out he’d be left without money. The dacha is in my name—there’s proof it was built with inheritance money. We’ll split the apartment. And Valentina Petrovna spent all her savings on some scam. Friends invited her into a ‘profitable business,’ and it turned out to be a pyramid scheme.”
Marina whistled.
“Now that’s a twist!”
“Oleg’s supporting Mommy now. She moved in with him for good. A neighbor said they fight every day. Valentina Petrovna demands he get me back and sue for the dacha, and he’s furious that he lost his family because of her.”
“You reap what you sow.”
Tatyana nodded and took a sip of tea. Somewhere in the distance birds were singing; in the garden the roses—planted in the first year of construction—were fragrant.
“You know, Marina… I’m thinking maybe it’s all for the best. For years I tried to be a good wife, a good daughter-in-law. I adapted, endured, kept quiet. Turns out—for nothing. I should’ve set boundaries from the start.”
“The main thing is you realized it not too late. You’re only thirty-two. Your whole life is ahead of you.”
Suddenly there was noise from the gate. Tatyana stood up and went to look. Behind the fence stood Oleg and Valentina Petrovna.
“Tanya!” Oleg shouted. “Tanya, open up! We need to talk!”
“There’s nothing to discuss. The court will decide everything.”
“You ungrateful little wretch!” Valentina Petrovna screeched. “Because of you my son is miserable!”
“Your son made his choice. He chose you—your greed and your arrogance—and your Kristina. So now live happily together, the three of you. Oh right—Kristina’s gone. So the two of you.”
“Open up this instant!” Valentina Petrovna started yanking the gate. “This should be my dacha! MINE!”
“Stepan!” Tatyana shouted.
A burly man came out from the neighboring house.
“Help me get them out.”
“TATYANA!” Oleg yelled. “I lost everything! My job, my money! Mom is sick—she needs care! Help me!”
But Tatyana was already heading back to the house. Behind her came shouts, pleas, threats. She didn’t turn around.
“Is everything okay?” Marina asked anxiously.
“Yes. Everything is wonderful. They got what they wanted—each other. Without me. Let them enjoy it.”
The friends returned to the veranda. The sun was setting, painting the sky in pink and gold. Somewhere far away dogs barked; it smelled of freshly cut grass and flowers.
“To a new life!” Marina raised her glass.
“To freedom from toxic people!” Tatyana agreed.
They clinked glasses and drank. And behind the fence, the fading voices of Oleg and Valentina Petrovna could still be heard, arguing with each other—now with no one left to blame for their misfortunes but one another.
A month later Tatyana received news from the lawyer: the divorce was finalized, the apartment was being sold, and her share would be transferred to her account. Oleg and his mother moved in with some distant relatives of Valentina Petrovna.
And six months after that, Tatyana ran into Oleg by chance in a supermarket. He looked tired, older—cheap jacket, worn-out shoes. When he saw his ex-wife, radiant and happy, he tried to come over, but Tatyana walked past as if she didn’t recognize him.
Later she heard from mutual acquaintances that Valentina Petrovna had become completely bedridden—not from illness, but from her own venom. Oleg was working two jobs to pay for her treatment and medicine. Kristina married a wealthy businessman. And the dacha Valentina Petrovna had been so desperate to take became Tatyana’s place for a new, free, happy life.
Because sometimes, to find happiness, you don’t need to endure and adapt—you need to fight back. And even if anger isn’t the noblest emotion, sometimes only it can break the chains of toxic relationships and open the door to real freedom.
And Valentina Petrovna never got the dacha she wanted. Instead she got what she’d been striving for—total power over her son. Only that power turned out to be empty, because the only thing left to rule was an unhappy, ruined man who hated her for the life she destroyed, yet was forced to endure her because he had nowhere else to go.
Such is the irony of fate: getting what she wanted, she lost everything