Elena left the office and headed for her car. The workday had been intense—three client meetings, a pile of documents, and nonstop calls. She had been working as a lawyer at a large company for five years and was used to that pace. Elena had always been driven; even at university she worked part-time so she wouldn’t depend on her parents. Although Viktor Pavlovich and Lyudmila Ivanovna—the owners of a chain of building-material stores—could have guaranteed their daughter a comfortable life, Elena preferred to achieve everything on her own.
Three years earlier she had married Roman, a programmer at an IT company. They met at a corporate party through mutual friends, and Elena immediately liked him for his calm smile and his ability to listen. Later, though, it turned out that his easygoing nature extended to absolutely everyone, including his mother, Raisa Stepanovna. But back then, at the very start of the relationship, Elena hadn’t noticed it.
The newlyweds rented a two-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city. The place was decent, but Elena dreamed of having a home of her own. From her first months at work she began putting money aside—one third of her salary went into a “down payment” fund. Roman saved too, but much less, explaining that he helped his mother and his younger brother, Alexey.
In three years Elena had saved about two million rubles. Roman had managed only five hundred thousand. She didn’t reproach him; she understood that everyone had their priorities. But when she started talking about buying an apartment, Viktor Pavlovich unexpectedly offered help.
“Lenochka, your mom and I want to give you three million for an apartment,” her father said over Sunday lunch. “You’re our only daughter, and we want you to live well. Renting at your age isn’t right.”
Elena hugged her parents, unable to hold back tears of gratitude. With that kind of money, she could look for something truly good.
The search took a month. Elena studied dozens of listings and drove around half the city before she came across the perfect option: a three-room apartment in a new building right in the center—eighty square meters, bright, with an excellent layout. Price: nine million rubles. The rest could be covered by a mortgage on favorable terms.
“Rom, look at this beauty!” Elena showed her husband the photos on her phone. “Three rooms, a big kitchen-living room, two bathrooms! Can you imagine?”
Roman nodded as he examined the pictures.
“Great. But whose name will the apartment be in?”
Elena fell silent. She had already thought that part through.
“Rom, let me be the owner. You understand—my parents gave me the money, it’s their gift to me personally. I want the apartment to be mine. For security.”
Roman frowned.
“So I’ll just live in your apartment? Like a tenant?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my husband, it’s our home. It’s just that legally I’ll be the owner. Rom, believe me—it’s the right decision.”
Roman sighed and agreed, though his face showed he wasn’t happy about it. Still, he didn’t argue—he’d never liked conflict.
The deal went through quickly. Two weeks later Elena was holding the keys to her own apartment. She spun around the empty rooms, making plans—where to put the sofa, what color tiles to choose for the bathroom, where to hang a big mirror. Roman smiled, looking at his happy wife, and helped measure the walls with a tape measure.
“I think we should call my parents and thank them again,” Elena said, sitting on the windowsill. “Without them we would’ve been saving for another ten years.”
“Definitely. And I should tell my mom too,” Roman added, pulling out his phone.
“Why?” Elena tensed.
“Why not? She’s my mother. I want to share the good news.”
Elena opened her mouth to object, but stayed quiet. Roman was already dialing.
“Mom, hi! Listen, we’ve got news… We bought an apartment! A three-room in the center, eighty square meters… Yeah, in a new building… Uh-huh, it’s in Elena’s name—her parents covered most of it… No, Mom, I get it… It just worked out that way…”
Elena listened and felt anxiety rising. Raisa Stepanovna was not an easy person. She constantly meddled in their life, gave unsolicited advice, and most importantly—believed her son owed her everything. Elena tried to keep her distance from her mother-in-law, but it didn’t always work.
“Mom wants to see the apartment,” Roman said, putting away the phone. “I invited her next week.”
“Great,” Elena answered dryly, with no joy in her voice.
The week flew by. Elena and Roman ordered furniture and arranged for a crew to do some cosmetic repairs. A brand-new refrigerator and a small table with two chairs were already in the apartment. On Friday evening Roman reminded her that his mother would come the next day.
“Just try to be more polite with her,” he asked. “I know you two don’t really get along, but still—it’s my mom.”
“I’m always polite,” Elena snapped.
On Saturday morning the doorbell rang. Elena opened the door and froze. Raisa Stepanovna stood on the threshold holding two huge bags, with a third at her feet.
“Hello, Lenochka,” her mother-in-law said with a strained smile. “Help me, please—carry the bags in.”
Elena automatically grabbed one bag and stepped aside to let her in. Raisa Stepanovna walked into the apartment and looked around with an appraising gaze.
“Well, not bad. Though I would’ve chosen a different layout, but overall it’ll do.”
Roman came out of the bathroom, drying his hands with a towel.
“Mom, hi! How was the trip?”
“Fine, Romochka. Here—I brought some things.”
“What things?” Elena asked, setting the bag down.
Raisa Stepanovna straightened up, crossed her arms, and looked Elena straight in the eyes.
“My son said you bought a three-room in the center. In this apartment only I will live!”
Elena blinked several times, not sure she had heard correctly.
“Excuse me—what?”
“I’m moving in here. Alyosha is getting married in six months; my apartment will go to him and his bride. And I need somewhere to live. This apartment is just right. City center, three rooms—perfect for me.”
Blood rushed to Elena’s face, betraying the fury she was barely holding back. She turned to her husband.
“Roman, do you hear what your mother is saying?”
Roman went pale before her eyes, his gaze darting between his wife and his mother.
“Mom, wait—let’s talk calmly…”
“Talk about what?” Raisa Stepanovna cut him off. “You’re my son—you’re obligated to provide me with a decent old age. I’ve invested my whole life in you and Alyosha, and now it’s time to pay your debts. I’ve already decided—I’ll take the big room, it’s brighter. You and Elena can live in the small one. Or move out somewhere altogether.”
Elena closed her eyes, counting to ten. Then she took a deep breath and opened them again.
“Raisa Stepanovna, this apartment belongs to me. I bought it with money I earned and with money my parents gave me as a gift. Roman and I will live here, and no one else. Take your bags and please leave.”
Her mother-in-law laughed—sharp and unpleasant.
“Oh, is that how it is? So now you’re in charge? Have you forgotten who I am? I’m your husband’s mother! Without me there would be no him, no you, no this marriage!”
“Mom, calm down,” Roman tried to intervene, but his voice trembled.
“Be quiet!” Raisa Stepanovna barked. “Are you a man or a rag? Your wife’s sitting on your head and you can’t even say a word!”
Elena stepped forward, placing herself between her husband and his mother.
“Enough. I’m saying this for the last time—take your things and leave. Right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” Raisa Stepanovna stomped her foot. “I’ve already decided! I’m giving Alyosha my apartment, and I’m moving here. You, Lena, are greedy and ungrateful. You must respect your elders!”
“Respect is earned, not demanded,” Elena said in an icy tone.
Her mother-in-law turned, grabbed one of the bags, and headed toward the larger room.
“That’s it—talk is over. I’m starting to settle in.”
Something inside Elena snapped. In two steps she caught up to Raisa Stepanovna, yanked the bag from her hands, and threw it back into the entryway.
“You will get out of my apartment right now!” Elena’s voice was quiet, but steel rang in it. “Immediately!”
“Romochka!” Raisa Stepanovna screamed. “Do you see how she’s behaving?! Are you going to let her talk to your mother like that?!”
Roman stood by the wall, white as a sheet, his arms hanging limp.
“Mom… maybe it really isn’t worth it… Let’s talk another time, when everyone’s calmed down…”
“Isn’t worth it?!” her voice jumped an octave higher. “Whose side are you on?!”
“He’s on my side,” Elena cut in. “Because this is our apartment, our family—and you are an uninvited guest here. Roman, help your mother carry her bags to the door.”
Raisa Stepanovna clutched at her heart, putting on a show.
“Oh—my heart… Look what you’re doing to me, ungrateful… I loved you like a daughter…”
“Enough with the theater,” Elena opened the front door. “Out. And don’t come again without warning.”
Her mother-in-law realized the situation was slipping out of control. She grabbed two bags, dragging the third toward the door.
“Romochka, you’ll regret this! I’m your mother! Are you really going to choose that bitch over your own mother?!”
Roman stayed silent, staring at the floor.
Raisa Stepanovna stopped on the threshold, her face twisted with rage.
“Fine. If that’s how it is—I curse you both! You’ll live in this apartment like in hell! I’ll get revenge, you’ll see!”
Elena slammed the door the moment her mother-in-law stepped over the threshold. Then she leaned against the wall and slowly exhaled. Her hands were shaking; her heart pounded so hard her ears rang.
Roman sat on the floor, clutching his head in his hands.
“Why did you do that to her? She’s my mother…”
Elena sat down beside him.
“Listen to me very carefully. Your mother just came into our apartment with her things and announced she would live here—and told us to move out. Do you understand that?”
“She’s just upset about Alyosha… She really has nowhere to go…”
“She has her own apartment!” Elena’s voice hardened. “And if Alexey is getting married, then let him decide where he and his wife will live—at his mother’s place or separately. That’s not our problem. Roma, if you don’t learn to tell your mother ‘no,’ our marriage won’t last long.”
Roman looked up, confusion in his eyes.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely. I’m not going to share the apartment I bought with my money and my parents’ money with your mother. That’s my boundary. And if you don’t respect it, we’re not on the same path.”
Roman was silent for a long time. Then he nodded.
“Okay. I’ll talk to her. I’ll explain that this can’t happen.”
“No,” Elena shook her head. “It’s too late to explain. Tomorrow I’m calling a locksmith and changing the lock. You’ll have one set of keys. Only one. And if I find out you gave keys to your mother or let her in here without my consent, I’ll file for divorce. Immediately. No discussions.”
Roman jerked his head up.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I’m protecting my space and my boundaries. Roman, I love you. But I won’t let your mother run our life. Choose—either you’re with me, or you’re with her. There is no third option.”
Roman rubbed his face with his palms. His shoulders slumped, and he suddenly looked very tired to Elena.
“I’m with you. You’re right. Mom went too far.”
Elena hugged her husband.
“Thank you. So we agreed: we change the lock, you get one set of keys, and your mother comes only by invitation. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Roman answered softly.
The next day Elena called a locksmith. The technician quickly replaced the lock, installing a more reliable one. Elena kept two sets of keys for herself and gave one to her husband.
“Roma, this is serious. Don’t lose it, don’t give it away, don’t make copies without me. Okay?”
“Okay,” Roman nodded.
That evening Raisa Stepanovna called. Roman spoke with her for a long time on the balcony; Elena heard only fragments: “Mom, understand… It’s her apartment… No, I can’t… I’m sorry…”
When he came back, his face was tense.
“She’s very offended. Says I betrayed her.”
“You didn’t betray her. You just chose your family. And that’s the right thing.”
Roman hugged his wife, burying his face in her hair.
“I hope everything will settle down.”
Elena didn’t answer. She knew Raisa Stepanovna well enough to understand the woman wouldn’t give up so easily. But now, in her own apartment, with the lock changed and clear boundaries in place, Elena felt calm. She had won this round—and she was ready to defend her territory for as long as it took