A September morning turned out to be chilly. Irina was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, carefully straightening the collar of her business suit. The documents for an important meeting were neatly placed in her briefcase, her phone checked twice. Everything was going according to plan.
Outside, yellow leaves slowly swirled in the air, reminding her that autumn was coming. Irina glanced at the clock — eight o’clock, time was tight. The meeting with the partners was scheduled for ten, and she had to cross the entire city to get there.
She had been working as a senior manager in a construction company for five years. This project could be a breakthrough in her career — a new residential complex on the outskirts of the city that required serious negotiations with investors.
Irina took a pair of low-heeled shoes from the wardrobe when she heard her husband’s footsteps in the hallway. Sergei appeared in the bedroom doorway with a dark expression.
“I don’t get it, where do you think you’re going? My mom’s about to arrive and the table is empty!” he protested.
Irina froze, holding the shoes in her hands. Her husband’s face showed such bewilderment, as if his wife were about to commit a crime.
“I have a work meeting, Sergei. I told you yesterday,” Irina replied, trying to stay calm.
“What meeting? Mom is coming especially for breakfast, and you’re going off somewhere!”
Valentina Mikhailovna, Irina’s mother-in-law, had indeed promised to come by in the morning. The woman often visited her son, especially on weekends. Though today was Friday, a working day.
“Your mother can wait. Or you can make breakfast yourself,” Irina suggested, putting on her shoes.
Sergei snorted:
“Are you serious? I was working on reports till eleven last night, and now I’m supposed to cook in the morning? I have a job too!”
Irina straightened up and looked at her husband. In seven years of marriage, situations like this had happened regularly. Valentina Mikhailovna would show up without warning, and Sergei automatically expected his wife to drop everything.
“My work is no less important than yours,” Irina said evenly, picking up her briefcase.
“Oh, come on! What difference does it make if you get there an hour later? Mom rarely comes over.”
Irina spun around sharply. Blood rushed to her face, betraying the irritation she was barely holding back.
“Rarely? Sergei, your mother was here on Monday, Wednesday, and last weekend!”
Her husband waved his hands.
“So what? She’s lonely, she’s bored. And you, as a daughter, should…”
“I’m not her daughter!” Irina cut him off sharply. “And I have obligations to my employer!”
Sergei frowned even more. He clearly didn’t like his wife’s tone.
“Listen, maybe you should stop putting on a show? It’s just an ordinary meeting, it’s not like you’re launching a spaceship!”
Irina grabbed her car keys and headed for the bedroom door. Her husband blocked her way.
“Where are you going? I’m talking to you!”
“The conversation is over. I’m running late,” Irina replied coldly.
“So what am I supposed to tell my mom? That my wife is more important than her own mother-in-law?”
Irina stopped in the doorway. Her husband’s words echoed in her head. Valentina Mikhailovna often hinted that her daughter-in-law didn’t take good enough care of her son.
“Tell her the truth. That I have work,” Irina said and walked into the hallway.
Sergei followed his wife:
“Ira, don’t make a scene! Mom is already on her way, she’ll be here in half an hour!”
Irina was putting on her autumn coat. Her hands trembled slightly from the accumulated tension.
“Let her come. You’re a grown man, you’ll manage without me.”
“What’s wrong with you? You never talked like this before!”
Irina turned to her husband. Sergei was standing there in his pajamas, his hair tousled, his face showing genuine confusion. He really didn’t understand why his wife was suddenly rebelling.
“I used to keep quiet. Now I won’t,” Irina said quietly and opened the apartment door.
“Ira!” Sergei shouted. “Don’t go! We can talk about this!”
But his wife was already going down the stairs. Her heels clacked against the steps, the sound echoing through the stairwell.
Irina got into the car and started the engine. In the rearview mirror she saw Sergei’s figure in the window of their apartment. He was waving his arms, clearly trying to get her attention.
The car pulled away. Irina turned on the radio — the calm melody helped her relax a little. It would take forty minutes to get to the meeting, through rush-hour traffic.
Her phone rang when Irina stopped at a red light. Her husband’s name lit up on the screen. She rejected the call.
A minute later a message came in: “Mom’s already here. She’s really upset. Call me!”
Irina put the phone back in her bag. The light turned green, and the car moved on through the morning city.
The office building where the meeting was to be held was in the business district. Irina parked and checked the documents one more time. The residential complex project had been worked out down to the smallest detail; the presentation was ready, the numbers memorized by heart.
In the elevator, her phone rang again. It was Sergei. Irina rejected the call once more.
The conference room was spacious, with large windows overlooking a city park. The representatives of the investment company were already at the table — two middle-aged men in expensive suits.
“Irina Vladimirovna, welcome!” the senior partner got up to greet her. “We’ve been looking forward to your presentation.”
The meeting lasted two hours. The project sparked real interest from the investors; they discussed financing details and construction timelines. Irina felt the adrenaline gradually give way to satisfaction with the work she had done.
“Excellent work,” the junior partner said as the meeting drew to a close. “We’ll contact you within a week with our final decision.”
“Thank you for your time,” Irina replied, gathering her papers.
The partners left first. Irina stayed alone in the conference room and pulled out her phone. Fifteen missed calls from Sergei, three from Valentina Mikhailovna.
The first message from her husband: “Mom is waiting for you for lunch. Come home quickly!”
The second: “Where are you? Mom is offended!”
The third: “Ira, stop acting crazy! Come home right now!”
Irina slowly scrolled through all the messages. The tone grew more demanding, the last ones were openly rude.
She put the phone back in her purse and walked out of the building. A light drizzle was falling, the leaves on the trees rustled in the wind. Autumn was taking over.
Irina got into the car and turned on the ignition. She didn’t feel like going home. Instead, she drove to her parents’.
Her mother met her in surprise:
“Ira? In the middle of the day? What happened?”
“Nothing special. I just wanted to stop by,” Irina answered, stepping into the familiar kitchen.
Her mother put the kettle on and sat down opposite her. She always sensed when something was wrong with her daughter.
“Tell me. What’s going on with Sergei?”
Irina sighed and told her about the morning scene. Her mother listened silently, occasionally shaking her head.
“You know, dear, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a long time,” her mother said when Irina finished. “You’ve become so… tired. You’re tense all the time.”
“The job is hard,” Irina brushed it off.
“It’s not about the job. It’s about the fact that you’re constantly trying to please everyone. Sergei, his mother, your boss. And when do you think about yourself?”
The phone rang again. Sergei was persistent.
“Answer it,” her mother advised. “Talk to him.”
Irina pressed the green button.
“I’m listening.”
“Finally!” Sergei’s voice sounded irritated. “Where have you been? Mom’s been waiting for three hours!”
“I’m at my parents’,” Irina replied curtly.
“What are you doing there? Get home right now!”
“I’m not coming.”
There was silence on the line. Sergei clearly hadn’t expected that answer.
“What do you mean, you’re not coming?”
“Exactly that. Deal with your mother yourself.”
“Have you completely lost your mind?” Sergei exploded. “Valentina Mikhailovna is in tears! She says you don’t respect her!”
Irina took a deep breath. Her mother gave her an encouraging nod.
“And does your mother respect me? When was the last time she asked how I was? Or how my workday went?”
“What does that have to do with anything? She’s an older woman, you should be more patient!”
“Should?” Irina repeated. “Who do I ‘owe’ anything to?”
“To me! She’s my mother!”
“And who am I? The help?”
Sergei sputtered with indignation:
“You’re my wife! And you’re obliged to…”
“Obliged to what? Drop my job at your first demand?”
“You’re exaggerating! It’s just a couple of hours!”
Irina rolled her eyes. Her husband really didn’t understand the point.
“Sergei, I’m not coming home today. I’ll stay with my parents.”
“What?!” he shouted. “You want to leave me over such nonsense?”
“Over nonsense? So my work is nonsense to you?”
“No, but…”
“No ‘but’. Goodbye.”
Irina hung up and looked at her mother.
“You did the right thing,” her mother said. “It’s time he understood that a wife is not a maid.”
In the evening, Irina decided to return home. She needed to pack her things and finally talk things through with her husband. The rain had become heavier, rivulets of water running down the car windows.
The apartment greeted her with silence. Sergei was sitting in the living room in front of the TV, but the sound was off. He looked lost.
“You came back,” Sergei said, without turning his head.
“For my things,” Irina answered briefly, walking into the bedroom.
She took a sports bag from the wardrobe and started putting clothes into it. Sergei appeared in the doorway.
“Are you serious? Mom will be offended! You should be thinking about how to welcome her,” he protested.
Irina frowned and tilted her head slightly, trying to process what she’d just heard. Even now, after all their conversations, Sergei still belittled his wife’s work in favor of his mother’s whims.
“Your mother is a grown woman. She could have made breakfast herself,” Irina replied calmly, continuing to pack.
“How can you say that? Valentina Mikhailovna has spent her whole life thinking only about her children!”
“Then now she can start thinking about herself. I have my own life.”
Irina finished packing and firmly zipped up the bag. Her movements were sharp and decisive.
Sergei tried to grab her by the arm, but Irina pulled away.
“Don’t touch me,” she said coldly.
“Ira, let’s talk like adults! Mom is really upset. She cried for a whole hour!”
“Let her cry. In my life, my own business will matter too. If you’re used to living by your mommy’s instructions, that’s your problem,” Irina’s voice was firm and unyielding.
Sergei froze, blinking. He clearly hadn’t expected such a tough reaction from his usually compliant wife.
“You’ve changed,” he said, confused.
“Yes. I stopped keeping quiet.”
At that moment, Irina felt for the first time that she had crossed the line of silence and clearly stated her priorities. Years of pent-up irritation had turned into a firm resolve to defend her own interests.
“But we’re husband and wife! We’re supposed to compromise!” Sergei tried to argue.
“Compromise?” Irina gave a short, bitter laugh. “Show me at least one compromise you’ve made. When was the last time you skipped a night out with friends because of my plans? When did you put my interests above your mother’s whims?”
Sergei said nothing. He had no answer.
Irina picked up her keys from the table, looked straight at her husband and added:
“Tonight I’ll be home late. You can welcome your mother yourself.”
“Where are you going?” Sergei asked helplessly.
“To a friend’s. To discuss my new life.”
Irina headed for the door. Sergei rushed after her.
“Wait! We can fix this! I’ll talk to Mom, I’ll explain everything to her!”
“Too late, Sergei. I’m tired of explaining obvious things.”
“Ira, I don’t want to lose you!”
She stopped at the door and turned to him.
“Then learn to respect my work and my time. Until that happens, we can’t live together.”
“And what will people say? Our relatives?”
“They can say whatever they want. I don’t care about other people’s opinions anymore.”
Slamming the door, Irina left, realizing that from that day on she would no longer let anyone turn her into unpaid help for someone else’s whims.
A week later, Irina rented a small apartment in the city center. Work was going great — the residential complex project was approved, and she was offered a promotion and a raise.
Sergei called every day, begging her to come back. He promised to talk to Valentina Mikhailovna, to set boundaries. But Irina no longer believed words.
“Show me with your actions,” she replied. “When you learn to put your wife above your mother, then we’ll talk.”
When Valentina Mikhailovna found out what was happening, she threw a fit. She blamed her daughter-in-law for destroying the family and demanded that her son immediately bring the “runaway” home.
But for the first time in his life, Sergei didn’t listen to his mother.
“Irina is right, Mom. I should have stood up for my wife, not your ambitions.”
“How dare you! I dedicated my whole life to you!”
“Then now let me have the freedom to choose.”
That conversation became a turning point. Sergei finally realized that his wife was more important than his mother’s moods.
A month later, he came to Irina with a bouquet of flowers and a serious proposal.
“I’ve set boundaries with Mom. No more surprise visits and no more demands that you drop your work. If you agree, we can try to start over.”
Irina looked at her husband carefully. Sergei really did seem different — more mature and responsible.
“All right. But at the first attempt to go back to how things were — I’ll leave for good.”
“I understand. It won’t happen again.”
They reconciled, but their relationship changed completely. Now Sergei consulted his wife on all issues related to his mother’s visits. At first, Valentina Mikhailovna sulked, but gradually she got used to the new rules.
And Irina received a promotion and became head of the department. Her career took off precisely after she learned to stand up for her own interests not only at home, but also at work.
That September day was the beginning of a new life, in which Irina no longer allowed anyone to belittle the importance of her work and her ambitions
