— No, and once again, no! I forbid your mother from even coming near the door of my apartment! — Marina stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed, staring at her husband as if she were facing an opponent.
Igor ran his fingers through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. He knew the conversation would be tough, but he had hoped for at least a little understanding.
— Marina, it’s just for a week. She’s going to Moscow on business and just wants to stay with us so she doesn’t have to pay for a hotel.
— You have an amazingly short memory, — Marina walked over to the window and flung it open, letting in the April air. — Should I remind you what happened last time? Or has your brain already filtered out all the inconvenient information about your mother?
Igor winced. Elena Borisovna’s last visit, six months ago, had indeed ended in a scandal. He remembered how his mother, obsessed with feng shui, tried to rearrange the living room furniture, claiming the “energy flow was blocked” and that “negative energy was stagnating in the house.” Marina came home from work to find that the old armchair from her grandmother had disappeared from the corner.
— You can’t build a harmonious space with that kind of junk around, — Elena Borisovna had declared.
— That’s my grandmother’s chair, I like reading in it, — Marina had replied coldly. — And I don’t care if it’s blocking anything or not.
— Look, — Igor approached his wife and tried to put his hands on her shoulders, but she stepped away. — I’ll talk to her in advance. I’ll explain that she’s not allowed to touch or rearrange anything.
— You already explained it once, — Marina turned to face him. — And how did that end? She called me some slow-witted woman who clings to old things instead of creating a cozy space for her husband. And when I tried to argue back, she burst into tears and ran to you, whining about how ungrateful I was.
Igor remembered that evening well. His mother had cried on his shoulder, saying how cold and hostile his wife was.
— I was only trying to help, to make your home more cozy, and she… she just shut me down so cruelly. As if I only bring harm here, even though I’m your mother!
And he believed her. Took his mother’s side. Spoke coldly to Marina for days, until he found out that Elena Borisovna had thrown away several old photographs in antique frames — photos Marina kept as mementos of her grandmother — without asking.
— It’ll be different this time, — Igor said, without much conviction. — I’ll keep an eye on her.
— You? — Marina gave a bitter chuckle. — You never notice anything when it comes to your mother. You’re a mama’s boy, Igor. A grown man of thirty-two acting like a fifteen-year-old afraid to stand up to his mom.
Igor felt a wave of irritation rise inside him:
— Don’t start. It’s just one week. I’m not asking anything else of you. Just be polite, that’s all.
— You know what hurts the most? — Marina shook her head. — You didn’t even ask me. You just stated it as a fact: your mother is coming. Period. As if my opinion doesn’t matter.
— I knew you’d be against it, — Igor admitted.
— And decided that meant you could just ignore my objection?
— I thought you could show some understanding, — Igor snapped. — She’s my mother, after all.
— And this is my apartment, — Marina said quietly but firmly. — Mine. The one I inherited from my grandmother. The very same grandmother whose presence has already been almost entirely erased thanks to your mother. The apartment I renovated with my own hands before I ever met you. And I have every right to decide who enters it — and who doesn’t.
Igor slammed his fist on the table.
— «Wonderful! So I’m just a guest here now? Three years of marriage, and you still consider this apartment yours alone?»
— «Should I pretend it’s ours just so your mother can act like she owns the place?» Marina crossed her arms tightly across her chest. «This is my home, Igor. And I don’t want someone who disrespects me under this roof.»
— «This is pure selfishness,» Igor shook his head. «I don’t recognize you anymore, Marina. When did you become so cold?»
— «When I realized your mother’s opinion will always matter more to you than mine.» Marina turned to the window, hiding her face. «I feel like a stranger in my own home when she’s here. So you choose, Igor: either you call her right now and tell her she can’t stay here, or… or you can pack your things and go stay with her.»
— «What?» Igor couldn’t believe his ears. «Are you serious, Marina?»
— «Completely.» She turned to face him, and Igor saw not anger, but exhaustion in her eyes. «I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t share a space with someone who treats me like I’m nothing, unworthy of her precious son.»
Igor sank into a chair, feeling his frustration shift into a heavy sense of hopelessness. It felt like a dead end. On one side — his mother, whom he loved despite her flaws. On the other — his wife, the woman he’d shared three years of life with.
— «Marina,» he tried a calmer tone. «I know you and Mom don’t get along…»
— «Don’t get along?» Marina gave a bitter laugh. «You really think this is just a little misunderstanding? Igor, she’s actively trying to erase me from our life. She cut me out of the wedding photo to frame just you. Remember?»
Igor remembered, but had chosen to ignore it. “The photo didn’t come out well,” his mother had said at the time — though Marina had looked beautiful in it.
— «She constantly talks about her friends’ sons who ‘married well,’” Marina went on. “And every time, she looks at me like you made the worst mistake of your life. And when she lists your exes and raves about how great they were… do you even realize what it’s like to listen to that?»
Igor ran a hand down his face.
— «She’s just… that kind of person. She doesn’t mean harm.»
— «That’s your go-to excuse.» Marina shook her head. «‘She doesn’t mean harm.’ You know, some people can poison everything around them without even intending to. Maybe she truly doesn’t realize what she’s doing — but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.»
Igor said nothing. Scenes from the past flashed through his mind — how his mother kept calling during their honeymoon, how she always had something critical to say about Marina’s hairstyle, clothes, speech. How Marina always became withdrawn and distant for days after one of her visits.
— «I have a suggestion,» he finally said. «I’ll get her a hotel room nearby. She can visit during the day, but she’ll stay there.»
— «So she’ll just hang around here all day long anyway?» Marina shook her head. «No, Igor. That’s a half-measure. I don’t want her here at all. Period.»
— «You’re not even trying to compromise!»
— «And you’re not even trying to understand how I feel!» Marina raised her voice. «This is my apartment, Igor. The only place I’ve ever truly felt safe. My grandmother left it to me when I was left completely alone. This isn’t just walls and a ceiling — it’s memory. It’s part of who I am. And I won’t let your mother trample on that.»
Igor stood and walked to the window. Outside, the city buzzed, people rushed about their lives, unaware of the drama unfolding in a fourth-floor apartment.
— «You know what your problem is, Marina?» he turned to her. «You take everything personally. Mom just wants to help, and you treat it like an attack.»
— «Help?» Marina raised a skeptical eyebrow. «Like educating me, the ignorant one, on how a real wife should behave? Or what I should do and when? Or maybe how I should dress so as not to disgrace your family name?» She gave a bitter laugh. «No thanks. I don’t need that kind of help.»
Igor felt the irritation rising again. Why couldn’t they just get along? Why couldn’t Marina just tolerate his mother for a week? Was that really so much to ask?
— «Fine, whatever,» he stepped away from the window, grabbing his keys and phone from the table. «I’m going to Dima’s. I’ll spend the night there. Think about your behavior. Call me when you calm down.»
— «Perfect solution,» Marina nodded. «Run away. As usual. Don’t forget your toothbrush and razor. You might as well not come back until your mother goes back to Saratov.»
Igor froze at the door.
— «So, what — this is an ultimatum? Either I turn my mother away, or we’re done?»
— «No,» Marina said calmly, but firmly. «I’m saying I won’t allow her to step foot in my home. What you do with that is up to you.»
The front door slammed. Marina stood alone in the kitchen, staring at her cup of cold coffee. She felt a strange emptiness — and, at the same time, a strong sense of conviction. This was her home. Her sanctuary. And she had every right to protect it.
Four days passed in silence. Marina didn’t call Igor, and he didn’t reach out either. She threw herself into work, staying late at the office and returning to an empty apartment that echoed with his absence. Several times she almost called him — but pride held her back. After all, she was right. And if he couldn’t see that, maybe their marriage really had been a mistake.
On the fifth day, coming home earlier than usual, Marina heard a key turning in the lock. The door opened — and there stood Igor. But he wasn’t alone. Behind him loomed a familiar figure. Elena Borisovna, in the flesh, with a huge suitcase and a smug smile.
— «Marina, darling!» her mother-in-law stepped in first, arms wide open as if nothing had ever happened between them. «So good to see you! Have you lost weight? You look so pale…»
Marina froze in disbelief. She turned to her husband.
— «What is this?»
Igor looked uncomfortable, but there was a stubborn look in his eyes.
— «Mom’s here. I couldn’t leave her with nowhere to go.»
— «And I’m grateful to my sweet, caring boy,» Elena Borisovna cooed, stepping deeper into the apartment and dropping her suitcase in the hallway. «Oh, I see you’ve moved the couch! Interesting choice, though from a feng shui perspective—»
— «Igor,» Marina cut her off, «can I speak to you? Alone.»
They went into the kitchen. Marina shut the door firmly and turned to him.
— «Do you realize what you’ve done? I made it very clear — I don’t want her here. This is my home.»
— «And mine too,» Igor replied quietly, but firmly. «I’ve lived here for three years. I pay the utilities, helped with the bathroom renovations. I have the right to invite my own mother.
