— But how do you not understand, Sergey? — Lena’s voice rang with tension, approaching its maximum volume. — You just need to explain to your mom that she’ll be better off among other elderly people like her! And in return, we’ll get an apartment in a prestigious neighborhood and be able to forget about this rented dump!
— Lena, can you even hear yourself? — Sergey exhaled heavily, turning away. — That’s my mother. How can you suggest such a thing?
— I’m not suggesting, I’m insisting! She’s always finding a reason to criticize: ‘Lenochka, why do you cook so heavily,’ ‘Lenochka, you check out boutiques too often.’ She’s always criticizing. As if I seem unkempt, and who does she think she is?
Sergey fell silent, feeling irritation rising within him. It hurt him to hear such attacks on his mother, and the idea of sending her to a nursing home seemed downright sacrilegious. He interlaced his fingers, trying to steady the trembling.
— So, choose for yourself! — Lena threw a glance at the kitchen cabinets, as if searching there for support for her argument. — Either we move in with your mother to start a normal life, or… honestly, all this is driving me crazy.
— I don’t even know what to say, — he looked up at his wife, his eyes full of bewilderment. — Do you really consider this normal?
A long silence hung for several seconds. Lena frowned, her lips trembling slightly, then she exhaled sharply:
— Alright, let’s calm down and talk calmly.
But at that moment, the alarm tone on the phone rang, reminding them of the upcoming lunch at Sergey’s mother’s. Lena grimaced:
— Oh, I completely forgot that I have to be there today.
— Shall we go? — Sergey asked grimly.
— We go, what choice do we have. But remember what we talked about. I’m already exhausted by these family meetings.
This conversation was a real shock for Sergey, though, to be honest, ominous signs had been appearing for a long time. His memory took him back to the day he first brought Lena to his modest Moscow apartment, where he lived with his mother. Lena had just moved from a small town, full of hopes to conquer the capital: glittering storefronts, crowded metro, the chance to land a prestigious job. Sergey was sure he had met the one—charming, affectionate, with a pure heart.
His mother, Lyudmila Pavlovna, received the guest with restrained yet warm hospitality. She served pies and inquired about life in the provinces. Meanwhile, Lena carefully examined the interior: inspecting the cabinets, the furniture, even mentally remodeling the place to suit her taste. Sergey found this to be a cute curiosity—just a new place, new impressions.
When the wedding preparations were in full swing, Lena increasingly started conversations about how wonderful it would be to live separately and, most importantly, for the apartment to belong to her. Sergey dismissed it as the typical desire of a bride to have her own space rather than sharing a roof with her parents. He calculated his finances and decided to rent a more comfortable apartment. Thoughts of a mortgage crossed his mind, but Lena always shook her head: “A mortgage is like chains; I want to live freely.”
The year after the wedding passed quickly, but with each month, Lena’s charm faded under the pressure of her endless reproaches and demands. Sergey buried himself in work to support the family, and at home he heard the same things over and over:
— You earn too little. How am I supposed to afford decent cosmetics?
— Why don’t you ask for a raise? Maybe the boss just doesn’t see you.
— I wonder, why are you so unambitious? Is it possible to just stand still?
Day after day, these phrases played like background noise, but the last straw was her recent suggestion about a nursing home for his mother.
In the entrance hall, they were greeted by the smell of a homemade lunch. Lyudmila Pavlovna flung open the door, noticing them through the window:
— Oh, my dears, you’ve arrived! Come in, don’t just stand at the door.
— Hello, Lyudmila Pavlovna, — Lena said coldly, throwing her handbag on a chair in the corridor. — I’ll wash my hands in a moment.
— Hi, Mom, — Sergey nodded, feeling awkward.
— Hello, my son, — his mother patted his shoulder. — How are you all doing?
— Usually, Mom, — he mumbled indistinctly, heading toward the living room.
On the table were steaming cutlets, mashed potatoes, and several salads. Everything looked just as it always did—homely, cozy. But Sergey felt a bitter lump in his throat. He sat down in the chair opposite Lena, noticing her tense expression.
— Well then, make yourselves comfortable, — began Lyudmila Pavlovna. — I hope you’ll like it.
Lena glanced at the dishes briefly, not even trying to hide her indifference:
— Of course, thank you.
With great effort, Sergey swallowed his irritation and tried to start a conversation:
— Mom, how are you? What have you been up to?
— Oh, what can one do in retirement, my son, — his mother replied with a touch of sadness. — I have plenty of time; I wish I could help you more, but I rarely see you.
— We’re just busy, — Lena snapped. — Work, you know.
Lyudmila Pavlovna looked intently at her daughter-in-law:
— Lenochka, how is work at the new place? Have you gotten used to it?
— More or less, — Lena shrugged. — The salary isn’t great, but at least there are discounts on clothes.
The atmosphere at the table grew increasingly tense. Lena was clearly mulling over her plans, calculating how to more quickly convince her mother to agree to a “move to a sanatorium.” Sergey caught his mother’s gaze and tried to smile to hide his true thoughts.
— Lyudmila Pavlovna, — Lena suddenly began, — don’t you feel lonely? After all, managing a household alone isn’t easy…
Sergey nearly choked on his compote, and his mother raised her eyebrows in surprise:
— What do you mean, lonely? I’m managing just fine. And besides, my son is always here if I need anything.
Lena gently continued:
— I just want to say that nowadays there are so many opportunities for retirees—social programs, modern boarding houses…
— Lena, stop, — Sergey sharply interjected, understanding where the conversation was heading. — Let’s hurry up; we still have to go to the market.
— Hurry? — Lena pretended not to hear her husband, addressing Lyudmila Pavlovna. — You wouldn’t believe the conditions some fine boarding houses offer. Comfort, 24/7 care…
Lyudmila Pavlovna felt a wave of concern but tried to remain outwardly calm.
— Why are you saying that?
— I just suppose: what if you decide you want a change of scenery…
Sergey understood—this was it. He abruptly rose from his chair:
— Lena, we need to talk!
He decisively led his wife into the corridor, leaving his mother in confusion.
— Have you completely lost your mind? — he hissed, clenching his fists. — Why start this conversation about a nursing home right in front of her?
— Oh, come on, I didn’t say anything specific, — Lena waved her hand dismissively. — Besides, it’s a great idea: she’ll be safe there, and the apartment will be ours.
— Your blatant disregard is astounding.
— What, Sergey, are we going to rent forever? Do you think there are any other options? Or are you ready to work without weekends to get a mortgage?
Sergey merely shook his head and returned to the table:
— Mom, sorry, but we have urgent matters. We need to go.
The day after the tense lunch, Lena continued developing her idea:
— I’ve thought it all over, Sergey. You have your mom’s friend, Aunt Galya, right? We can use her as leverage to convince Lyudmila Pavlovna to move…
— Lena, stop immediately.
— Oh, listen! The whole courtyard has already sent their elderly relatives to specialized institutions—it’s convenient for everyone.
Sergey was shocked:
— Convenient? Do you realize how that sounds?
— Enough with the explanations! We have to think about ourselves. Otherwise, we’ll always be counting every penny.
She spread her arms as if her arguments were self-evident:
— We pay for this apartment, but we could have long made it our own and set it up for our needs. A place with medical supervision can be found for mom.
Sergey looked at his wife, remembering the moments when their relationship seemed bright and full of hope… Now everything was falling apart.
— Admit it honestly, you want to evict mom in order to take over her apartment?
— Of course, because we’re family! I’m thinking of our well-being.
— Don’t forget, I’m also part of this family, and I have a different idea of well-being, — he barely held back his emotions. — It seems we’re not on the same path.
— What do you mean, “not on the same path?”
— Forget it, — he replied gruffly.
Less than two days later, on Saturday morning, Lena found Sergey packing his things in the bedroom. He methodically folded his belongings, ignoring her gaze.
— Oh, so it’s finally come to this, huh? — Lena said cheerfully, grabbing his shirts. — So we’re moving in with your mom? Right, it’s time to take over her apartment and give her a “rest.” I thought you’d never decide!
Sergey froze, turned to her, and shook his head:
— You’re mistaken. I’m leaving on my own. I’ll live with mom until we finalize the divorce.
The smile instantly vanished from Lena’s face:
— What divorce? Are you kidding me?
He gently took the t-shirt from her hands and folded it into his suitcase:
— Decision made. I won’t be part of your plan. I’ll tell mom everything. I paid for this apartment three months in advance, so you can stay here and “entertain yourself.” Maybe you’ll find a partner who better meets your needs.
— Sergey… wait, — Lena’s voice trembled. — Maybe we shouldn’t rush? Why divorce immediately?
— Do you really care about my decision? Our marriage has long been nothing more than a formality.
— But can’t we fix something…
— Fix? I’ve only just realized who you are. Months of pressure, the breakdown of my relationship with my mother. Now you’re upset because you’ll be left alone, without money and support. What more is there to say…
He snapped his suitcase shut and straightened up:
— I don’t know what comes next. For now, I’ll live with mom; she’s worried. And then we’ll see. And you… do what you think is right.
Lena sank onto the edge of the bed, lost:
— This is impossible…
— If you think I’m without feelings, you’re deeply mistaken. But I can’t endure this any longer.
He left, placing his suitcase by the door and throwing on his jacket. Lena stood frozen in the doorway, clearly unable to believe what was happening.
— It’s a pity it came to this, — Sergey said before leaving.
— Wait, Sergey… — Lena’s voice sounded uncertain. — We could have talked. Why rush to a divorce?
— Because you planned something more than just a conversation, Lena. You wanted to get rid of my mother. Such actions are unforgivable.
And he left, gently closing the door behind him.
Sergey moved in with Lyudmila Pavlovna, surprising and slightly upsetting her. He briefly explained that he and Lena had serious disagreements, and that he now planned to start divorce proceedings. Lena stayed in the rented apartment, which had been paid for several months in advance. For her, it was a real blow: all her calculations went up in smoke.
Time passed, and each chose their own path. Sergey finalized the divorce, continued to support his mother, and found inner peace. And Lena… she had to find new ways to survive in the capital, without a husband who once catered to her whims. Perhaps she will find a new chance, a new story, a new “win.” But Sergey made his final choice—to preserve true values, where respect and care matter more than any material benefits.
