“Have you lost your mind, Lyudmila Petrovna? Olya’s already living practically on a dump, and now she’s going to take my apartment too?”
Marina couldn’t believe her ears. She and Sergey were having dinner, and her mother-in-law, Lyudmila Petrovna—wearing the face of a prosecutor—was laying out her plan.
“Olya needs support. She needs a place to start her life with that Anton, and you…”
“What does my apartment have to do with you, Lyudmila Petrovna?”
“Olya will live in yours. No objections!” the mother-in-law declared.
Marina ground her teeth. Her apartment, inherited from her grandmother, was being rented out to help Sergey pay off the mortgage.
“I rent it out so Sergey can pay down the mortgage. Did that occur to you?”
“That rental money is peanuts. Sergey earns just fine. But Olechka needs help.”
Marina looked at Sergey. As always, he tried not to get involved.
“Lyudmila Petrovna, this is my apartment,” Marina said coldly. “I decide what happens to it.”
“Well, Sergey, explain to your wife how important it is to help family. Olya is your sister!”
Sergey shifted uncomfortably.
“Mom, maybe we can find another option?”
“Exactly! That’s why they need support! Olya and Anton will move into your apartment next week. Leave the keys with the concierge. Period.”
“Excuse me, I need to make a call,” Marina tossed over her shoulder and went into the bedroom.
“Do you seriously think I’m going to give my apartment to Olya?” she asked her husband later.
Sergey spread his hands.
“Not give—just let her stay. For a little while. Mom is worried.”
“And who’s worried about us? A few months without rental income is minus thirty thousand a month. Where are you going to get that money?”
“If you put it that way…”
“I’m putting it the way it is! If you keep insisting, I’ll file for divorce.”
Lyudmila Petrovna walked into the room without knocking.
“So, have you decided? When can Olechka move in?”
“Never,” Marina replied.
“Sergey!” the mother-in-law shrieked. “Are you really going to let her speak to me like that?”
Sergey looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.
The next day Marina met a friend to vent.
“Let him choose,” her friend shrugged. “He married you, not his mother. It’s time to make adult decisions.”
In the evening Sergey came home from work as black as a thundercloud.
“Mom called. Spent two hours lecturing me. Says I’ve betrayed the family.”
“Which family? The one you and I have, or the one you used to have?”
Sergey turned to her.
“You don’t understand. Mom has always been everything to Olya and me.”
“That doesn’t give her the right to run our lives.”
“She’s not running it! She’s just asking for help.”
“Sergey, that’s not a request, it’s an ultimatum.”
Soon Sergey got a call from his uncle, Viktor Petrovich.
“I hear you’ve got a little war going on with Lyudmila. You know what I’ll tell you? You’re right. Lyudmila’s always liked to boss people around. I’ll talk to her and to Sergey. It’s time she understood the kids have grown up.”
That evening Sergey was unusually composed.
“Uncle Viktor called. Sorry for acting like a little boy. You’re right. It’s your apartment.”
“Thank you. It matters to me that you understand that.”
“I called Mom. Told her Olya won’t be living in your apartment. Mom… got angry.”
“I can imagine.”
A month passed. Lyudmila Petrovna didn’t call. But one day Anton, Olya’s boyfriend, called Sergey and asked to meet.
“Listen, I didn’t know what I was getting into,” he said at the café. “At first Olya seemed so… airy. And then I found out she doesn’t really work anywhere; her mother gives her money. And then this apartment story… She told me she had an apartment and we could move there. And then it turned out the apartment belongs to your wife.”
“And now what?”
“I’m breaking up with her. But I’m afraid of her reaction. And of your mother’s.”
“Welcome to the club. You’re doing the right thing.”
Two days later Olya called her brother, screaming and hurling accusations.
“It’s you! You ruined everything! You turned Anton against me!”
“Olya, I didn’t turn him against you. We just talked about how adults have to be responsible for their own decisions.”
“Oh, is that so? You’ll regret this!”
That evening Marina asked her husband:
“Do you think they’ll ever calm down?”
Sergey shrugged.
“I don’t know. But I don’t want to waste energy on it anymore. We have our own life.”
“Do you feel sorry for them?”
“I do. But I feel even more sorry for the kind of relationship we could have had, if they respected other people’s interests.”
A year passed. She and Sergey lived quietly, renting out the apartment and slowly paying off the mortgage.
“No regrets?” Marina asked one day.
Sergey looked at her, and his answer was simple but firm:
“Not for a second. I didn’t just choose you. I chose a normal life without manipulation.”
