“Lilia, what are you doing to the curtains?” her mother-in-law’s voice cut through the living room’s silence. “How can you hang them like that? The pleats come out uneven.”
Lilia froze on the stepladder, the heavy drape in her hands. Valentina Petrovna paced below, critically assessing her daughter-in-law’s every move.
“It’s just easier for me this way,” Lilia replied curtly, adjusting the hooks on the curtain rod.
“Easier!” the mother-in-law snorted. “In Matvey’s childhood room, I always hung the curtains beautifully. And what is this mess?”
“Valentina Petrovna,” Lilia carefully climbed down and turned to the woman, “this is my living room.”
Her mother-in-law pursed her lips and strode over to the sofa, where Matvey was scrolling on his phone.
“Son,” she sat down beside him, “explain to your wife that a house should have order and beauty.”
Matvey looked up from the screen, glancing between his mother and his wife.
“Mom, maybe let’s not do this?” he said cautiously.
“Not do this how?” Valentina Petrovna bristled. “I mean well! And no one listens to me!”
Lilia grabbed the stepladder to put it away, but her fingers trembled with a rush of anger.
“Lil,” Matvey set his phone on the side table, “Mom knows more about interior design…”
The words pierced straight through her. Lilia let go of the stepladder and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” her husband called after her, confused.
But she had already disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. She sank into the armchair by the window and pressed her temples with her palms. Again he chose his mother. He always chose his mother.
About twenty minutes later, the door opened quietly.
“Lilia, stop sulking,” Matvey came into the room. “Mom will be going back to her place soon.”
“Soon when?” his wife asked without turning around.
“Well… in a couple of weeks, when her renovation is finished.”
“Two weeks,” Lilia repeated, finally looking at her husband. “For two weeks I’m supposed to ask permission for how I live?”
“Not ask… Just listen sometimes.”
“Listen to what, Matvey?” her voice was growing firmer. “She’s already managed to criticize how I wash dishes, my choice of bedding, and now the curtains!”
Matvey shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
“She’s just used to controlling everything…”
“And you’re used to backing her up!” Lilia stood and stepped closer. “Every time, Matvey! Every time you take her side!”
Her husband averted his eyes, clearly unprepared for such a conversation.
Valentina Petrovna walked into the bathroom at the very moment Lilia was applying mascara. In the mirror, her mother-in-law’s reflection appeared behind her, like a shadow from the past.
“Putting on makeup again?” the woman asked with undisguised mockery. “Not that it does you any good.”
Lilia froze, the wand suspended at her lashes. Something clenched painfully inside, but her voice came out even.
“What do you mean by that?”
“What’s not to understand,” Valentina Petrovna leaned against the doorframe, clearly settling in for a long talk. “No matter how much you paint yourself, it won’t make you prettier. My Matvey could have found a much better girl.”
The wand slipped from Lilia’s trembling fingers straight into the sink. The mirror showed a pale face with eyes flung wide.
“Are you serious?” Lilia whispered, barely audibly, turning to her mother-in-law.
“More than serious, dear,” the woman replied with a cold smile. “Plain, unremarkable. You don’t even have your own apartment. I don’t understand what my son saw in you. He probably chose you out of pity.”
The words pelted Lilia like hail. Each strike sent a sharp pain through her chest. Her breathing quickened; a hot flush flared in her cheeks.
“Get out,” Lilia hissed through clenched teeth.
“Oh, how proud we are,” her mother-in-law laughed. “Can’t handle the truth? I knew you had a nasty character.”
Lilia turned to face Valentina Petrovna. The fire in her eyes made the older woman involuntarily step back.
“I said—get out!” Lilia shouted. “Now!”
“Don’t you raise your voice at me!” the mother-in-law protested. “You’re not my equal!”
That was the last straw. Lilia snatched the towel from the sink and flung it toward Valentina Petrovna.
“Out of my bathroom! Right now!”
Her mother-in-law beat a hasty retreat, but at the threshold she turned back with a triumphant smirk.
“Now my son will see your true face,” she threw over her shoulder.
Lilia slammed the door and leaned her back against it. Tears streamed down her cheeks in hot tracks. Her hands shook so badly she had to clench them into fists.
From that day on, a tense silence settled over the apartment. Lilia stopped speaking to her mother-in-law entirely. She walked past her as if the woman didn’t exist. Valentina Petrovna pretended not to notice her daughter-in-law either, but kept complaining to her son about Lilia’s behavior.
Matvey rushed between the two women, trying to make peace, but every attempt ended in a new quarrel. Lilia refused even to discuss what was happening.
Two weeks of tension and silence dragged by in an endless procession of gray days. The apartment turned into a battlefield where the opponents avoided direct clashes but were ready to explode at any careless word. At last, the mother-in-law left.
And then something unexpected happened. The phone rang early in the morning, just as Lilia was getting ready for work. The notary’s voice sounded official, but his words struck like lightning.
“Lilia Viktorovna? You are the heir to your grandmother’s dacha plot. When can you come to finalize the paperwork?”
Lilia slowly sank onto a chair. Her grandmother had left her the dacha. A small house outside the city where Lilia had spent her summers. Suddenly, something like hope began to beat in her chest.
That weekend Lilia went to inspect the dacha. The small house turned out to be in decent condition—the roof was intact, the foundation solid, the windows unbroken. The plot was overgrown with grass, but that could be fixed. The realtor Lilia invited to appraise it walked the property carefully and delivered his verdict.
“For a dacha like this you could get three and a half, maybe four million,” he said, jotting something in his notebook. “The plot is good, electricity is in, and it’s a stone’s throw from the city.”
Lilia nodded, doing the math in her head. Together with her savings, it would be enough for her own apartment. A real home, where no one would tell her how to live.
At home, Matvey met his wife with a suspicious look.
“So, how did it go?” he asked cautiously. “What are you going to do with the dacha?”
“Sell it,” Lilia answered briefly, hanging up her coat in the entryway.
Matvey frowned as if he’d heard something unpleasant.
“Sell it? Why rush? Maybe you should think about it.”
Lilia turned to her husband in surprise. The disapproval in his voice grated on her nerves.
“I don’t like the countryside, mosquitoes, or digging in garden beds,” Lilia explained patiently. “And we could use the money more. If we add our savings, it’ll be enough for an apartment.”
Matvey pressed his lips together; something unpleasant flickered in his eyes.
“Shouldn’t we ask Mom?” he said quietly.
Lilia froze. A bitter smile twisted her mouth.
“Your mother’s opinion doesn’t interest me at all,” Lilia said through her teeth. “This is my dacha, my inheritance.”
Matvey turned away, but Lilia saw his shoulders tense. Silence hung heavy between them.
Two weeks flew by in a blur of errands. Lilia posted ads online and called agencies. Potential buyers didn’t keep her waiting.
The doorbell rang sharply just as Lilia was speaking to yet another realtor on the phone. On the doorstep stood Valentina Petrovna, her face flushed with indignation.
“What is this disgrace?” the mother-in-law shouted from the threshold. “How dare you sell the dacha without my consent?”
Lilia slowly put down the receiver. A cold fury swept through her.
“What consent?” she asked in an icy tone. “The dacha belongs to me under the will.”
“Under the will!” Valentina Petrovna mimicked, striding into the living room without an invitation. “And the fact that my son is your husband means nothing to you? This is family property!”
Lilia followed her, her fists clenching of their own accord.
“It’s my personal property, received by inheritance,” Lilia said slowly. “And you have nothing to do with it.”
“Nothing to do with it?” the mother-in-law screeched. “I’ve dreamed of a dacha my whole life! And you’re going to squander it on your whims!”
“My whims?” Lilia’s voice rang with restrained anger. “It’s my house! And with the money I get, I want to buy an apartment!”
At that moment Matvey walked in. Seeing his mother and wife in the living room, he stopped dead.
“What’s going on?” he asked carefully, looking from one woman to the other.
“Your wife is selling off the family jewels!” Valentina Petrovna complained, sniffling. “She wants to sell the dacha without asking anyone!”
Lilia looked at her husband, silently begging him to finally take her side. But Matvey lowered his eyes.
“Lil, Mom really has always dreamed of a dacha,” he mumbled, sounding guilty.
Those words were enough for something inside Lilia to break for good. The last hope crashed down with a roar.
“And I dreamed of a home,” she whispered, looking at her husband. “A real home where no one humiliates me.”
“Lil…”
“No, Matvey,” Lilia cut him off, heading to the bedroom. “Enough. I’m tired.”
An hour later, Lilia left the apartment with a suitcase in her hand. Matvey tried to stop her, saying something about reconciliation, but the words reached her as if through cotton.
Half a year later, Lilia received her share of their joint savings through the court. The dacha was sold for four million rubles. With that money plus her savings, she bought a two-room apartment in a residential neighborhood.
Standing on the threshold of her new home, Lilia smiled for the first time in a long while. Here no one would tell her how to cook, what to wear, or whom to befriend. Here there would be only her—and the long-awaited quiet.
