— “What does pity have to do with it? Temporary registration is a serious legal step. You understand there could be problems…” she said, trying to stay calm, though the story of a friend kept circling in her mind—how that friend once took in relatives “temporarily,” and five years later still can’t get them deregistered.
— “Ah, so that’s it!” Lyubov Andreyevna gasped with such theatrical flair it could have belonged on a stage. “So you don’t trust us? You think we’re after your precious apartment?”
— “Lyubov Andreyevna, don’t be insolent! And let me decide myself whom to register in my apartment!” the daughter-in-law no longer hid her irritation.
Oksana stood by the window, admiring the “grand” view she’d apparently grown to love back when she took on a mortgage with savings that covered exactly half the down payment. But here she was—owner of a two-room flat in Saint Petersburg. Honestly, it wasn’t all that bad, if you didn’t count that her whole life at the time of purchase had been in permanent austerity mode, and the fact that she’d managed it herself wasn’t exactly something worthy of national TV. Still, the apartment was a sort of postponement of reality, a way to tell herself, “Look, I’ve made it.” Pride, sort of—but somehow not quite clear.
— “Maksim, don’t you want to do a barbecue on the balcony? This weekend, like last time. Everyone’ll come; it’ll be fun,” she turned, all sunshine, hoping for a response. Maksim, however, was sitting there looking as if something didn’t suit him.
— “Sorry, sunshine, but… I can’t.” Maksim let out a couple of phrases with the air of a tired general who knows no one was waiting for him here. He pulled out some papers again and started sorting through them as if his life depended on every line. “I’m going to my parents’ this weekend. Andrei has problems.”
— “Of course. Andrei again. You tell me everything about him and I sit here like a fool trying to figure out who I’m even living with.” Oksana dropped into an armchair, releasing her irritation straight into the air. She’d asked this question a hundred times already and would likely never get an answer she could accept.
— “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad.” Maksim avoided Oksana’s eyes, which told her immediately: something was off again. But what exactly no longer interested her the way it used to.
— “Just don’t tell me he’s in debt again. If you tell me he’s going to crawl into your pockets over debts again, I’ll bury you along with that problem.”
— “No, not debts. It’s much worse. He and Lena want to move here. You get it? Petersburg is a city of opportunity. Their kids are here, and Alisa has started school, and Dima is moving into sixth grade. Where they live there’s no work, the schools are bad. They say the children’s education is more important.”
Oksana almost shot out of the chair but restrained herself. Her gaze might have been burning everything around, but she understood in that moment: they would drag her husband back into their family “horror stories” again. And, of course, as always, she’d be left sitting on the sidelines.
— “What, they’ve decided to move in with us? Right into your little apartment?” she tried to keep her voice even, but in her head she was already drawing up a plan to set everything straight. Other people’s “ideas” with other people’s children were not Oksana’s thing.
Maksim didn’t answer. He drummed his fingers on the table, and Oksana realized: the next few days wouldn’t be fun. How did she always know this in advance? In those moments when silence fell like this, everything somehow added up: they always wrecked her plans.
Just then her phone lit up with “Mom.” Of course, it was her mother-in-law, who always arrived like a thunderstorm.
— “Mom, I… yes, yes, I know.” Maksim looked as if another earthquake had landed on his shoulders.
Oksana knew her mother-in-law would appear like a comet—never empty-handed. And so, evening. The doorbell. Oksana knew this moment as if standing on a brink.
On the doorstep stood Lyubov Andreyevna, with pearl earrings and a salon-styled hairdo from a salon nobody had actually seen but everyone remembered. She entered the apartment with that special manner of hers, pretending she had not the slightest problem with the world around her.
— “My dear daughter-in-law!” Her voice was sickly sweet, and Oksana could practically smell the perfume from a mile away. Lyubov Andreyevna always knew how to fit herself into any space where there was something to gain.
— “Hello, Lyubov Andreyevna,” Oksana stepped aside to let her in. “Come in.”
— “Maksim, son,” the mother-in-law didn’t forget her manners. “Run to the store for something tasty. Oksanochka and I will have a little ‘talk of our own.’”
Well then, this would be an interesting conversation.
As soon as the door closed behind Maksim, Lyubov Andreyevna changed. The sugary smile vanished, and the mask settled on her face—the one that always inspired a faint anxiety in everyone. Her gaze grew insistent, like a shark’s that had already decided the fish was hers. She walked the room, looking everything over as if sizing up what she intended to “occupy.”
— “Well, daughter-in-law, how long are you going to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about?” She leveled that indisputable look at Oksana.
Oksana was almost choking on the forced affability, but she braced herself for becoming the target again.
— “What are you talking about, Lyubov Andreyevna?” Oksana sat quietly on the edge of the sofa, and as soon as she touched the cushion, a familiar feeling washed over her: this would be a conversation she’d happily skip.
— “About temporary registration for Andrei and his family, of course. You know exactly what I’m getting at.” The mother-in-law stepped closer, as if preparing to swallow the space one step at a time. Her eyes missed nothing—from the rug to the kitchen table. Oksana might even have smirked if the tension weren’t so high. “Do you really think you can just refuse your husband’s relatives?”
— “Let’s speak plainly,” Oksana decided there was no point playing at fog and niceties now.
— “Let’s!” the mother-in-law cut her off so forcefully it was immediately clear: there’d be no compromise from that side. “You live in comfort, you have a roof over your head, and Andrei has two children who need to study. Have you seen the dump they moved into? What school are they supposed to attend? Don’t you feel sorry for the children?”
Oksana gripped the armrest. Her fingers turned white, but she held back. Her mother-in-law’s words were always like a punch to the gut.
— “What does pity have to do with it? Temporary registration is a serious legal step. You do understand there could be problems…” she said, trying to stay calm, while in her head spun the story of a friend who once took in relatives “temporarily” and still, five years later, can’t get them deregistered.
— “Ah, so that’s it!” Lyubov Andreyevna gasped with such theatricality it deserved a stage. “So you don’t trust us? You think we’re after your precious apartment?”
Oksana kept silent. She could already see how this “temporary registration” could turn into a decade-long problem, and now there was her mother-in-law applying pressure.
— “Why are you silent?” The mother-in-law wouldn’t let up. She sat down beside Oksana, violating every boundary. “You think we’re some kind of scammers? I’m your husband’s mother, your future children’s grandmother.”
Oksana bit her lip. Somewhere inside a sharp feeling pierced her: whatever she said now, she’d end up the guilty one.
— “Lyubov Andreyevna, it’s not about trust. It’s a legal matter.”
— “Oh, stop with those smart words!” The mother-in-law waved a hand, as if all those “clauses” and “laws” were just scarecrow words. “What legal matters can there be between relatives? Andrei is your husband’s brother. He has children who need schooling. You don’t want them burning up in some hovel, do you? Look at those poor children’s eyes! Do you have no heart at all?”
At that moment the lock clicked in the hallway, and Maksim returned with a bag, the cake like a salvation. He didn’t even notice the tension you could cut with a knife.
— “What are you discussing?” he asked, walking into the kitchen like a man who hadn’t yet realized the game had already begun.
— “I’m trying to explain family values to your wife,” said Lyubov Andreyevna, pursing her lips and seizing the moment. “And she keeps going on about some legal technicalities.”
Maksim came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel as if it would shake the thoughts from his head.
— “Oksan, maybe we should think about it? It’d be for a short time…”
— “Are you sure?” Oksana looked at her husband, her eyes full of that familiar displeasure that always appeared when someone tried to sell her obvious nonsense. “Can you guarantee they’ll move out and deregister in six months?”
— “Of course they will!” the mother-in-law cut in, casting a side-eye at Oksana as if she weren’t a daughter-in-law but the source of all woes. “Just let them get the kids into school, find decent jobs…”
— “So there’s no concrete timeline,” Oksana concluded, letting the sarcasm show. “And if they don’t find jobs? If they can’t rent a place?”
— “My God, what kind of person are you?” the mother-in-law snapped, openly irritated. “People are in trouble and you’re counting deadlines! Why, when I was your age…”
— “When you were my age, you lived in another country under different laws,” Oksana said evenly. “Now temporary registration gives a lot of rights. A person can make claims on the living space.”
Unappeased and not getting what she wanted, the mother-in-law turned to her son:
— “Maksim!” She launched into those habitual manipulations that always left him muddled. “Tell her! He’s your own brother!”
Maksim’s eyes darted between his mother and his wife; the confidence from a minute ago was gone.
— “Oksan, maybe we can find a compromise? Mom’s right; you can’t abandon your kin in trouble.”
— “I’m not abandoning anyone. But I’m not going to risk the apartment either.” She was almost whispering, but every word sounded like a verdict.
— “What apartment?” cried the mother-in-law, as if offended. “Big deal—two rooms in a bedroom community! And she’s afraid of ‘risking’ it!”
— “Mom, don’t start,” Maksim tried to stop her, but he was beginning to see this was headed for a dead end.
— “Oh, I will start!” The mother-in-law stood, ignoring her son. “I kept quiet when you married God-knows-who. I kept quiet when you refused to live with us. But now it’s about your brother!”
— “What does ‘God-knows-who’ have to do with this?” Oksana asked quietly, her voice the kind that could bring everything to a halt. “What did I do wrong?”
— “You?” The mother-in-law smirked as if she’d caught Oksana in a mistake. “You’re doing everything wrong! Instead of building a family and having children—you only think about your own benefit. ‘Her apartment,’ imagine! Who did your renovations? Who bought the furniture?”
— “Maksim and I did everything together, with our shared money.”
— “Shared?” She smirked again. “Shall I remind you how much my son earns? And how much you do?”
— “Mom!” Maksim raised his voice, but even his tone was filled with confusion. “Enough!”
— “No, not enough! She needs to know her place!” The mother-in-law didn’t hesitate to show her true face. “I didn’t raise my son so some upstart could boss the family around!”
— “Lyubov Andreyevna, don’t be brazen! And let me decide for myself whom to register in my apartment!” the daughter-in-law no longer hid her irritation.
— “Lyubov Andreyevna,” Oksana stood, sensing there was no backing down now. “I think we all need to calm down. Let’s continue this another time.”
— “There won’t be another time!” the mother-in-law snapped, her voice leaving no room for doubt. “Either you agree right now to help your husband’s family, or…” She fell meaningfully silent, making it clear the sequel was inevitable.
— “Or what?” Oksana looked at her with such resolve that Lyubov Andreyevna felt that unbending will aimed at her.
— “Or let Maksim choose— you or family.”
— “Mom!” Maksim clutched his head, as if a heavy weight had been lifted only to be dropped back on. “What are you saying?”
— “What? Let him decide!” She grabbed her purse, secure in her righteousness. “I’ll give you until tomorrow. Either you register Andrei with his family, or…”
A chill ran down Oksana’s back. An evening that began like an ordinary family dinner had become something she would never forget.
Her mother-in-law didn’t finish—just slammed the door.
A tomb-like silence fell over the apartment. Maksim paced nervously, and Oksana stood at the window watching the dark settle outside the glass. Every movement, every glance felt heavy, as if everything happening was irreversible.
— “So what are we going to do?” Maksim finally asked, as though looking for answers in the air.
— “What is there to do?” Oksana turned to her husband, her eyes merciless. “Decide.”
— “Decide what?” Maksim rubbed his temples in confusion. The situation had clearly knocked him off balance.
— “Choose,” Oksana said quietly, guiding him toward the inevitable. “Me or family. Just like your mother said.”
— “Oksan, why are you like this?” He was so exhausted he could no longer speak calmly. “Let’s talk it through.”
— “What is there to discuss?” her voice was ice, without a drop of warmth. “Your mother laid down the terms in plain text.”
Just then Maksim’s phone trilled—Andrei calling.
— “Well? Did you talk?” Andrei’s voice carried even across the distance. “That… woman of yours agreed?”
— “Andrei, don’t start,” Maksim winced, knowing the conversation would go nowhere good. “Let’s discuss everything tomorrow.”
— “What tomorrow? I have to get the kids into school!” Andrei didn’t care for doubts or complications. “The apartment’s a rental; the landlady is already hinting about raising the price. And your wife is digging in her heels over some piece of paper!”
Oksana stared silently out the window, her thoughts far from the family squabbles. In three years of marriage she was seeing her husband’s family in a very different light for the first time. Before, their oddities could be chalked up to overprotectiveness, but now…
The next day was a true hell. The phone rang off the hook with relatives, each feeling obliged to weigh in.
— “Maksim, this is outrageous!” Aunt Zina shouted as if personally wronged. “How can anyone be so hard-hearted? Andryusha has children!”
— “In our day this never happened!” echoed second-cousin Grandma Klava. “Family is sacred!”
By evening Lena, Andrei’s wife, called, her voice sounding as if her entire life depended on this conversation.
— “Listen, Oksana. I get it—your apartment, your rules. But we’re not strangers! Do you really think we’d cheat you?”
— “Lena, it’s not about cheating,” Oksana answered wearily, knowing every word would be taken the wrong way. “There are just laws…”
— “To hell with your laws!” Lena exploded, her voice climbing into a shriek. “You’re just an egoist! A heartless witch!”
A week later, unexpectedly running into Andrei and Lena at the supermarket, Oksana felt a chill along her spine. They ostentatiously turned away as if she weren’t there. Lena whispered something to the children, and they, without thinking, followed their mother’s lead. Oksana pretended not to notice, yet with every step she felt her place in this family grow more alien.
— “See what you’ve done,” Maksim said that evening, his voice quiet but heavy with meaning. “Even the children are turning away from us.”
— “I’ve done?” Oksana let out a bitter laugh, as if something inside her was breaking. “Maybe it’s your mother setting everyone against us?”
— “Against you,” Maksim corrected, his gaze merciless. “She still loves me. She just doesn’t understand why I chose a wife like you.”
— “Do you understand it yourself?” The question in her voice sounded as if she no longer expected an answer.
Maksim said nothing.
A month later, like the worst possible scenario, they met with Lyubov Andreyevna at a café—neutral ground to talk.
— “Here’s how it is,” the mother-in-law began without bothering to say hello. “I’ve decided everything. Since you’re so principled, we won’t bother you anymore. Andrei found another solution—they’re selling their apartment in their city and moving in with me. And you… you can be happy you defended your precious square meters.”
— “Lyubov Andreyevna…” Oksana’s voice was thin and taut, as if she were ready to tear down everything once deemed untouchable.
— “Silence!” the mother-in-law cut her off, her voice so forceful it felt like she could rip her apart with words. “You no longer exist to me. And don’t bother coming to family holidays.”
— “And Maksim?” Oksana asked quietly, as if hoping for a shred of understanding.
— “Maksim can choose—either his family or the one who destroyed it.”
That evening Maksim packed his things, and his words were like the final nails in a coffin.
— “I’m sorry, Oksan. But I can’t keep tearing myself between you. Mom’s right—family should stay together.”
— “And me? I’m not family?” Her voice was full of despair, though inside the decision had already been made.
— “You… you’re something else,” Maksim looked away, as if he no longer saw her. “You ruined everything yourself with your stubbornness.”
When the door closed behind him, Oksana didn’t cry. She looked out at the night city, and one thought remained: sometimes a loss can be a gain. Now she knew for sure: your own apartment isn’t just a roof over your head—it’s freedom. Freedom from manipulation, from other people’s desires, from imposed obligations.
And six months later she learned by chance that Andrei’s family never moved in with his mother. They bought an apartment in the next building. Apparently, the money had been there all along. Someone had just really wanted to test how strong other people’s… rules were.
