“Ilya, we’re getting a divorce.” Anfisa stood facing her husband and looked him straight in the eyes, piercingly.
“What do you mean, a divorce?” Ilya struggled to grasp the meaning of his wife’s words.
“Ilya, you just don’t get it—you’re living with me, not with your mommy… This can’t go on.” The last thing Anfisa wanted was a divorce, but she couldn’t see any other way out.
Ilya tried to object, but she cut him off immediately.
“From the very first days we’ve been together, Elena Petrovna hasn’t let us live in peace…”
“I’ve told you so many times it’s time for you to grow up and become independent. But you didn’t want to hear any of it.” Anfisa shook her head.
She was barely holding back her indignation. Her cheekbones looked so sharp you could cut yourself on them. And her dreams of a happy life had shattered into a thousand tiny fragments.
Two years had passed since Anfisa moved in with Ilya, into his cozy apartment. Before that she’d lived with her mother, and the conditions left much to be desired. Anfisa had been crammed into an old one-room flat inherited from her grandmother… outside the city limits… and now—
To Anfisa, Ilya’s place felt like a real estate mansion.
“Yeah, this is something else. I didn’t just find a good guy—I found a guy with some seriously great square meters,” Anfisa thought as she looked around.
By the time Anfisa graduated from university, Ilya was already doing well at work. Deciding he had enough money to start a family, Ilya proposed.
A couple months after the wedding, Anfisa began thinking about having a baby. But her plans weren’t meant to happen. Instead of a child, her mother-in-law burst into the newlyweds’ life.
“Welcome me like we haven’t seen each other in a hundred years!” the mother-in-law joked cheerfully, rolling three huge suitcases into the apartment.
Elena Petrovna had raised Ilya alone—just as her own mother had raised her alone. And she raised her son the old-fashioned way.
“All kids are like kids, but you…”
“Don’t make noise—what will the neighbors think?”
“The less you know, the better you sleep.”
“Stop embarrassing me…”
Despite these and hundreds of other nasty phrases that steadily chipped away at his psyche, Ilya still managed to grow up and become a talented entrepreneur. But one problem remained.
Elena Petrovna had worked on Ilya’s mind so thoroughly that he genuinely considered her almost a saint—even after she used to smack him on the head with a textbook for every failing grade.
Every month Ilya sent his mother money. And not a little—about fifty percent of his salary. His mother had firmly planted in his head that she would take half of his income for life.
“Children must take care of their parents.”
“You don’t have anyone closer than me.”
“I sacrificed everything in my life for you.”
Elena Petrovna checked his bank statements, and if he ever tried to give her less, she’d throw a terrifying scandal.
“So this is how you take care of your mother? You scoundrel!” Elena Petrovna expertly pinned guilt onto her son.
“Come on, Mom, I needed to buy new tires for the car. It’s important so I don’t have problems on the road…” Ilya replied awkwardly.
“I don’t care. Then figure out how to earn more,” the woman snapped back.
“Elena Petrovna, why did you decide to move in with us? Ilya told me yesterday you’re here for a long time. Did something happen?” Anfisa asked, bewildered.
“Something happened, girl. Something happened. A shirt got bunched up between my legs,” Elena Petrovna answered spitefully.
“My idiot gives me pennies, and I came up with a little idea. A project won’t build itself without his money.” Elena Petrovna pulled out a cigarette holder and lit a thin cigarette right in the living room. “I rented out my apartment—so that should cover me for the first little while.”
“Why are you standing there like a stranger? Bring an ashtray…” The mother-in-law flopped onto the sofa.
“We… don’t really smoke in the house,” Anfisa said timidly and went to look for an ashtray.
“Ilya, what is all this supposed to mean?” That evening, Anfisa decided to talk seriously with her husband. “It’s one thing if your mother came for a short visit… It’s a completely different thing if she’s decided to live with us.”
“I didn’t agree to that.” Anfisa sat down on the bed, annoyed.
“Sweetheart, don’t worry… There won’t be any ‘forever,’” Ilya tried to calm her. “My mom just needs to raise some start-up capital, and then when her project takes off, she’ll leave right away. She only has a six-month rental agreement.”
Ilya had no doubt that this time his mother would finally succeed in business—especially after so many failed attempts.
Although Ilya had always helped his mother with various “projects,” Elena Petrovna’s business ideas used to smash to pieces against the rocks of reality.
But the mother-in-law didn’t lose optimism—especially with generous funding from her son and one trendy psychologist who convinced her she’d been born to shine and be successful.
Six months later, Elena Petrovna still hadn’t gone anywhere. Her new project—making little figurines based on photos using a 3D printer—had no demand.
She blamed everything on her son, who “felt sorry for money” and wouldn’t pay for a fashionable business-promotion course out of “his half” of his salary.
She needed new investments to keep the project alive, so she continued living in her son’s apartment—together with him and his wife.
It weighed on Anfisa even more. She couldn’t get pregnant. It was as if she could feel that Ilya’s mother was taking up the place where a child should have been.
Anfisa was even more infuriated by the fact that in every argument—even minor ones—her husband always took his mother’s side:
“Anfisa, Mom’s right—you really oversalted it… that’s bad for your health.”
“Anfisa, Mom’s right… those candles have a really strong smell, we’ll get tired of airing the place out.”
“Anfisa, Mom’s tired. Watch the movie in the bedroom on the computer.”
Elena Petrovna, for her part, disliked Anfisa because she pulled her son’s attention toward herself. The mother-in-law was especially furious when Ilya bought something for Anfisa—using his share of the money.
“Sonny, why the hell did you buy Anfisa those fancy headphones? Can’t she just turn the sound down so it doesn’t bother me?”
“She doesn’t need a new washer that dries clothes. Let her not be lazy and hang the laundry up herself. If you have an extra ruble, give it to me instead—don’t flush it down the toilet for her whims,” the woman fumed.
After a year of living together, Anfisa and Elena Petrovna couldn’t stand each other. The fight for Ilya escalated to a level neither had seen before.
“If I didn’t love Ilya, I would’ve left a year ago… But I’m still waiting and hoping he’ll understand he needs to tear himself away from his mother’s apron strings and send her anywhere,” Anfisa poured her heart out to a friend at a restaurant.
“I won’t let that bitch have a moment’s peace. As long as my heart is beating, I’ll hover over her like a hawk over a mouse. She thought she could come in here and twist my son around,” Elena Petrovna complained to her sister on the other side of the city.
And then a real hurricane tore into Anfisa and Elena Petrovna’s relationship.
“Anfisa, we need to talk.” Elena Petrovna walked into the room while Anfisa was browsing online for a new saucepan.
“What is it?” Anfisa threw out dryly without looking away from the screen.
“Well, it’s like this…” the mother-in-law began carefully. “I need more money for my business.”
“Need it, fine. What do you want from me?” Anfisa shrugged and kept scrolling.
“The thing is, Anfisa, they won’t give me a loan. I’m blacklisted,” Elena Petrovna sat down on a chair. “So here’s what I’m offering you, girl.”
“Either my Ilyusha starts giving me his entire salary so I can finally make my business a success… or…” She paused.
“Or, Anfisa, you start giving me your entire salary.”
“I know Ilya helped you get your job. And you make примерно exactly what I need.”
Anfisa spun around in her chair and stared at Elena Petrovna. She clearly hadn’t expected a twist like that. But the mother-in-law wasn’t going to stop.
“Don’t forget, girl—if it weren’t for me, Ilya wouldn’t have been born. And you’d still be living in your little hole. We’re family. And in a family, you support your own.”
“So it’s time you help me properly. Or did you think you’d just live for free in my rich son’s apartment?” Elena Petrovna looked at Anfisa sternly.
“Elena Petrovna, are you out of your mind? Not only are you living in our home—you’re also insisting we pay for your rotten projects?” Anfisa gathered her courage and, for the first time, pushed back.
“Why, in all the time I’ve been with Ilya, has my mother never once asked us for help? Why is it only you who’s climbed onto our backs?” Anfisa jumped up and stood face-to-face with Elena Petrovna.
“If you were dying and only an expensive operation could save you… I could at least understand that. But you’re taking our money, our energy, our resources… You’re like a parasite in our house!” Anfisa shouted.
“Because of you, I couldn’t conceive for almost a year…” she blurted out—and froze.
In a rush of emotion she’d let it slip. Even Ilya didn’t know she was pregnant yet. The test had shown two lines only a couple of days ago. For the last day Anfisa had been thinking how to tell her husband the happy news.
“You’re pregnant?” Out of all the insults she’d just heard, Elena Petrovna only caught those words—as if they meant something special to her.
“It’s none of your business,” Anfisa grumbled and headed for the bedroom door.
“Oh, it very much is my business. You are not having a baby right now. You have no right to.” Elena Petrovna snapped coldly.
“What do you mean I’m not having a baby?” Anfisa looked at her in disbelief. “How am I supposed to understand that?”
“Like this, Anfisa. My project comes first. Pregnancy, childbirth, children—only after my project.” she hissed venomously. “Before Ilya finds out—and I can see he doesn’t know yet—you get an abortion. Quickly.”
“What did you just say?” Anfisa turned back, furious. “You’re putting your worthless business above your grandchild’s life?”
“I said—don’t you dare give birth!” the mother-in-law screamed, her eyes bulging. “Now is not the time. When it’s time, I’ll tell you myself. I’ll give you permission. Until then, don’t make waves, and hand over your salary to me. And be grateful for everything you have.”
“And if you argue with me, I’ll ruin your life so badly you won’t know what hit you,” Elena Petrovna added maliciously.
At that moment, Anfisa’s patience snapped like an overstretched string.
“Not the time, you say?” Anfisa stepped back to her chair. She’d deliberately picked that chair because she loved it—a beautiful turquoise color, soft, pleasant leather.
It was light and comfortable—more like an office chair, but it fit perfectly in their room.
“So I’m supposed to get an abortion, in your opinion…” Anfisa slowly ran her hand along the back of the chair.
“You want me to take the life of the baby I waited so long for…” She bent down and gripped the chair firmly with both hands.
“And you also want me to bring you my whole salary on a silver platter…” She squeezed the armrests so hard her fingers turned white.
“And I’m supposed to thank you every day for living in Ilya’s apartment—the apartment he earned without your help. Even though I’m his lawful wife…” Anfisa forced the words through clenched teeth.
“And I think instead it’s time to smash you with this chair and throw you down the stairs…” Anfisa lifted the chair off the floor.
“Forgive me, Lord, but she really pushed me to it…” she whispered—and with a shout of “Take that, you witch,” she carried out a short, but very painful act of vengeance.
The chair met the mother-in-law’s face.
Then Anfisa made sure the mother-in-law ended up outside the building. She grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the street. Anfisa “helped” Elena Petrovna go from the ninth floor to the first on foot—and made sure she counted every single flight of stairs.
Then Anfisa stormed into her husband’s office and announced her decision to file for divorce.
“Anfisa, please, not this… Give me a chance to fix everything…” Ilya dropped to his knees in fear and began begging his wife.
When Anfisa headed to his office, she’d firmly decided to leave—to leave and raise the child alone. But seeing that her husband truly understood, she listened to her heart and gave him a chance to make it right.
“Fine, Ilya.” Anfisa sat down in a chair, crossed one leg over the other, and stared at her shaken husband. “I’m going to tell you one piece of news. And then there will be three conditions.”
“I’ll do anything, sweetheart…” Ilya rushed to her and sat beside her.
“First: I smashed your mother with a chair and dragged her down the stairs by her hair.” Ilya tried to speak, but Anfisa gestured for him to keep his mouth shut and listen carefully.
“That happened because your mother found out I’m pregnant. She ordered me to get an abortion, and she also said I have to give her my entire paycheck for her useless business.”
“That’s something I could not accept, understand, or tolerate.”
“As you’ve gathered, Ilya, I’m pregnant. And what’s happening between us is completely unacceptable to me. So here are my conditions.” Anfisa got off the table and looked at him demanding.
“Condition one.” She bent her thumb. “Your mother—today, as soon as she recovers—gets out of our lives forever. I don’t want to hear her name again.”
“Condition two.” She bent her index finger. “You stop giving your mother money. From now on, she’s on her own. You support me and our family. You’re going to be a father soon—this is no joke. All your money now belongs to our family.”
“And condition three.” She bent another finger. “You cut the apron strings and start deciding for yourself what’s best for us. You won’t be talking to your mother anymore—at most once a year, by phone.”
“Otherwise I’m leaving right now. Loudly and painfully…” Anfisa walked up to his office chair and slowly ran her hand along the armrest.
Ilya chose Anfisa. Elena Petrovna was furious beyond measure. She had to kick out her tenants, lose money, shut down the project, and return to her own apartment.
As it turned out, Elena Petrovna had saved quite a bit during the time Ilya supported her financially. Interest from her deposits kept her from going completely insane with rage and disappointment in her son.
She no longer speaks to Ilya. To friends and relatives, she angrily claims that Anfisa is a nasty witch who bewitched her beloved Ilyusha.
For Ilya and Anfisa, things settled down. Ilya faithfully follows all three conditions and raises their daughter with special love. Rumor has it the couple is happily married.
And they say the mother-in-law… is the mother of a very good son who simply had terrible luck with a wife—and that a real mother-in-law never forgets that she herself was once a daughter-in-law. Whether that’s true or not… you decide.
But one thing we know for sure: parents’ main problem is that they often try to “raise” their children without raising themselves.
Comments for dear readers
This story reminds us that excessive dependence on parents or other relatives can become a serious barrier to full, healthy relationships.
The ability to make decisions independently, the habit of not shifting responsibility onto loved ones, and the possibility of not being financially dependent on family—these are the foundations of a mature, free, and happy person.
Also, to reduce fear, hopelessness, and resistance when it comes to personal boundaries, you simply need to lessen your dependence on the person you’re going to say “no” to. It’s one of the simplest methods.
The less dependent you are on someone, the easier it is to set boundaries. And first and foremost, we’re talking about the material side of things.
And remember: persistence and the ability to insist gently are good—but sometimes it’s better to put the question bluntly and put the relationship on the line, the way Anfisa did.
Because if a person doesn’t value what matters to you, if they’re completely unwilling to accept your point of view and stand by your side in sharp conflicts where the truth is on your side… then you will never truly be happy in that relationship
