Evening was slowly settling over Petersburg, covering the streets with a soft twilight. In a three-room apartment on the city’s outskirts, Alla Petrovna was inspecting the kitchen with a critical eye, running her finger over the recently cleaned stove. Her face froze into an expression as if she had just discovered something unpleasant.
“Sveta, how can you be like this?” her voice carried a distinct tone of disappointment. “I taught you that the stove should be cleaned right after cooking, not when everything’s already stuck on.”
Svetlana, her daughter-in-law, stood by the sink, finishing washing the dishes after dinner. Her shoulders tensed noticeably, but she kept methodically handling the plates, trying not to show her irritation.
“Alla Petrovna, I’ve been at work all day,” she replied calmly. “Then I picked up Misha from kindergarten, made dinner… I’ll finish washing everything now.”
“Exactly!” the mother-in-law snapped. “How can I rely on you? Do you think it’s easy for me to watch everything fall apart? I’m teaching you for your own good.”
Svetlana took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The third week straight without days off at work, endless reports, complaints from her boss, and at home—constant criticism from her mother-in-law. It seemed her patience was filling drop by drop, about to overflow.
Alla Petrovna went on:
“In my day, we managed both work and keeping the house clean. And now? Look, even the kitchen curtains haven’t been changed since last week. I would do it myself, but you know my blood pressure…”
“I know, Alla Petrovna,” Svetlana felt something stir inside her. “You often mention your blood pressure, especially when it comes to household chores.”
“What do you take yourself for?” the mother-in-law raised her voice. “By the way, I let you live with me. Without me, where would you be now?”
Just then, Andrey, Svetlana’s husband, entered the kitchen. He looked tired after work but immediately became alert hearing the raised voices.
“What’s going on?” he asked, shifting his gaze between his mother and wife.
“Nothing special,” Svetlana answered, trying to keep her tone even. “Your mother thinks I don’t take good enough care of the apartment.”
“Don’t twist my words!” Alla Petrovna retorted indignantly. “I just want everything to be perfect. Is that so bad—to strive for the best?”
Andrey rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily.
“Mom, Sveta has been working all day…”
“So what? I’ve worked all my life too!” his mother interrupted. “But I always kept things in order!”
Svetlana slammed the last plate into the drying rack. Her hands were shaking.
“You know what, Alla Petrovna?” she began, steel notes creeping into her usually calm voice. “I can’t take it anymore. Every day, no matter what I do, you find something to criticize. I cook—you don’t like how. I clean—you say it’s not clean enough. I do laundry—you complain about how I hang the clothes!”
“Sveta…” Andrey tried to intervene, but his wife no longer heard him.
“No, I’m saying it! You say you’re teaching me, but that’s not true. You just can’t accept that there’s someone else in this house besides you. You don’t teach—you criticize, constantly! And you know what? I’m tired of feeling like a servant in this apartment!”
Alla Petrovna’s face went pale. She looked at her daughter-in-law as if seeing her for the first time.
“This is my apartment,” she said quietly but with incredible firmness. “And if you don’t like it here, I don’t know where you will live.”
With those words, she turned and, holding her head high with pride, left for her room. The door slammed shut with a deafening click.
A heavy silence fell. Realizing what had just happened, Svetlana sank onto a stool. Andrey stood nearby, not knowing what to say.
“Do you realize what you did?” he finally said. “You shouldn’t have spoken to her like that.”
“How was I supposed to?” Svetlana’s eyes filled with tears. “Put up with it forever? She’ll never be satisfied, Andrey. Never.”
“She’s my mother, Sveta. And this is her apartment.”
“So what, now I have to silently endure any humiliation?”
Andrey sighed deeply and left the kitchen, leaving Svetlana alone with her thoughts and unshed tears.
The next morning began with an unexpected phone call. Alla Petrovna, sitting in her room, was loudly talking to someone.
“Yes, yes, a three-room, in good condition. Close to the metro. How much did you say it might cost? Ah, I see… Interesting. How quickly can you find a buyer?”
Svetlana, passing by her mother-in-law’s room with a laundry basket, froze in place. Her heart tightened with a sudden suspicion.
The whole day passed in tense anticipation. Alla Petrovna behaved unusually quietly, hardly leaving her room, and when she did appear in the kitchen, she only gave a dry greeting and returned to her room.
In the evening, when Andrey returned from work, Svetlana could no longer hold back:
“She called the realtor. Your mother wants to sell the apartment.”
“What?” Andrey couldn’t believe his ears. “No way!”
“I heard it myself. She asked about the price and how fast a buyer could be found.”
Andrey went pale. Without a word, he went to his mother’s room and closed the door behind him. Svetlana leaned against the wall in the hallway, listening tensely to the muffled voices from behind the door.
“Mom, is it true? You want to sell the apartment?” Andrey’s voice sounded confused.
“Why not?” Alla Petrovna answered calmly. “It’s my apartment, and I have every right to do with it as I see fit.”
“But… where will we go? We have a car loan; we can’t afford rent!”
“I don’t know where you will live! It’s my apartment!” Alla Petrovna’s voice carried the same steely notes Svetlana had heard the day before. “I’ve decided to sell it and rebuild our summer house. I’ll live there, in peace and quiet. Without constant reproaches.”
“Mom, Sveta is just tired… She didn’t mean to offend you.”
“No, son. She said exactly what she thought. And you know what? She’s right. This is my home, and I really am in charge here. But soon, that will change.”
When Andrey left his mother’s room, his face was pale with worry. Meeting Svetlana’s eyes, he just shook his head, a gesture that said more than words.
“You have to apologize to her,” Andrey said late that night when they were alone in their room. “Ask her forgiveness, convince her not to sell the apartment.”
Svetlana looked at her husband with disbelief, as if seeing him for the first time.
“Are you serious? After all she’s done for years? After all those humiliations?”
“Sveta, understand, we have no choice!” Andrey raised his voice but immediately softened, whispering: “Where will we go with the child? Out on the street? Damn it, we just took out a car loan!”
“I won’t humiliate myself,” Svetlana said firmly. “I won’t let anyone treat me like a servant anymore.”
“Great!” Andrey threw up his hands. “So we’ll be out on the street—but at least with dignity! Well done!”
He left the room, slamming the door loudly. Svetlana was left alone, feeling a growing sense of hopelessness inside. But suddenly an idea struck her. She remembered how two years ago she and Andrey went on a trip to Turkey, leaving Alla Petrovna alone. Within a week, she called them every day, begging them to come back because she was “completely lost alone.”
The plan formed instantly. The next morning, while Andrey was still asleep, Svetlana called her friend in Moscow.
“Olya, hi! Listen, remember you invited us? We’d like to come… Yes, with Misha… For a week, maybe longer. Really? Thanks, you’re a true friend!”
By evening, when Andrey returned from work, Svetlana had already packed the suitcases.
“What’s this?” he asked, confused.
“We’re going to Moscow, to Olya’s. For two weeks.”
“What? Are you crazy? What about work? What about Misha?”
“I took unpaid leave. Misha’s school vacation is coming up. And I advise you to do the same.”
“Sveta, you don’t understand…”
“No, you don’t understand,” Svetlana stepped closer. “Think about it: your mother threatens to sell the apartment and go live alone in the summer house. But two years ago, she couldn’t live without us even for a week. Let’s see how serious she really is.”
Andrey thought for a moment and then slowly nodded.
“That… might work. But what will we tell her?”
“We’ll tell the truth. That we’re going to visit friends.”
Alla Petrovna’s reaction exceeded all expectations. Hearing about the upcoming trip, she first didn’t believe it.
“How can you leave? Who will cook? Who will clean?”
“You’ll manage, Alla Petrovna,” Svetlana replied calmly. “After all, you’re going to live alone in the summer house. So you’re ready to do without us.”
The mother-in-law pursed her lips but said nothing. She only gave them a cold look as they left.
The first three days in Moscow passed quietly. Alla Petrovna didn’t call, and Svetlana began to worry that the plan had failed. But on the fourth day, Andrey’s phone came to life.
“Hello, Mom? How are you?” Andrey put the call on speaker so Svetlana could hear too.
“My son!” Alla Petrovna’s voice sounded unusually worried. “When will you come back? I’m all alone here… The fridge is almost empty, and it’s hard to go to the store. And my head is spinning…”
“Mom, we told you we’d be gone for two weeks. It’s only been four days.”
“Four days?” The mother-in-law sounded genuinely surprised. “It feels like a month already! Andryusha, come back soon. I miss Misha.”
“We can’t come sooner, Mom. The tickets are non-refundable.”
Alla Petrovna sighed into the phone:
“Well, alright… I’m just… worried about you.”
After the call, Svetlana and Andrey looked at each other. The first step had been taken.
By the end of the week, calls from Alla Petrovna became daily. She would complain about loneliness, health problems, or neighbors who “walk too loudly.” Finally, one evening, she broke down:
“Andrey, I demand you come back immediately! I’m going crazy alone!”
“Mom, we explained—the tickets are for next week,” Andrey repeated patiently. “By the way, how’s the apartment sale going? Have you found a buyer?”
There was a heavy pause on the other end.
“What sale?” Alla Petrovna asked uncertainly.
“Well? You wanted to sell the apartment and move to the summer house. To live there alone, in peace and quiet.”
“I… I just…” The mother-in-law’s voice trembled. “I just wanted to teach you a lesson. I didn’t actually plan to sell anything.”
“Really?” Andrey sounded genuinely surprised. “I thought you were serious.”
“Andryusha, what summer house? How can I live there alone? At least you’re nearby here…” She hesitated. “Anyway, come back soon. And… tell Sveta that I… that I was probably too harsh on her.”
When the call ended, Svetlana couldn’t believe her ears.
“She apologized? Alla Petrovna admitted she was wrong?”
Andrey smiled and hugged his wife.
“Not exactly apologized, but that’s already a big step for her. I think a lot will change when we get back.”
The homecoming was awkward. Alla Petrovna met them at the door looking unusually timid. The apartment was perfectly tidy—it was clear she had made a great effort before their arrival.
“Come in, come in,” she fussed. “I baked a charlotte… With apples, just like you like, Sveta.”
Svetlana raised her eyebrows in surprise. In all their years together, Alla Petrovna had never cooked anything especially for her.
That evening, when Misha was already asleep and Andrey had gone to the store, Alla Petrovna and Svetlana stayed alone in the kitchen. They were silent for a while, then the mother-in-law unexpectedly spoke:
“You know, when you left, at first I thought, ‘Well, good, I’ll have a rest from them.’ But then I realized I got used to not being alone. Before you moved in, I managed somehow, but now…” She paused, choosing her words. “I realized I need you. All of you.”
Svetlana looked at her mother-in-law, unsure what to say. It felt like a completely different person was sitting in front of her.
“Alla Petrovna, I…”
“No, let me finish,” the mother-in-law interrupted. “You were right. I really criticized you too much. And maybe it wasn’t so much about you as about me. About the fact that I no longer felt needed, important in this house.”
“But you are important to us,” Svetlana said quietly. “Misha adores you. Andrey loves you. And I… I respect you. It’s just… sometimes your criticism is too…”
“Unbearable?” Alla Petrovna smiled sadly. “I’ll try to change. I can’t promise it will happen right away, but I’ll try.”
Svetlana nodded.
Three months passed. Many things had changed in Alla Petrovna’s apartment. No, the walls remained the same, the furniture unchanged, but the atmosphere was completely different. Now, in the evenings, they often gathered all together around the big table, and Alla Petrovna taught Svetlana how to cook her signature dishes. Sometimes the mother-in-law still couldn’t resist making remarks, but now they sounded softer, and Svetlana had learned not to take them to heart.
One evening, when she and Andrey were alone, Svetlana asked:
“Do you think she really wanted to sell the apartment?”
Andrey smiled:
“Who knows? Maybe she did at that moment. My mom is an emotional person. But I’m glad it all turned out this way. You know, from this whole story I understood one important thing.”
“What?”
“That a home isn’t just walls and a roof. It’s the people who live in it. And how they treat each other.”
Outside, the lights of night-time Petersburg flickered, and inside the apartment it was quiet and peaceful. For the first time in a long time, it was truly their shared home. A home where everyone felt needed and important.
