Are you serious?” Vera froze, unable to believe her ears. “Repeat what you just said.”
“You heard me perfectly well,” Dima said, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. “Mom is really upset about your behavior. This is the only way to make up for it.”
Vera took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Her green Volkswagen Golf—a gift from her late grandmother—was special to her. She’d spent nearly a year restoring the car, pouring all her savings into it. And now her husband was demanding that she hand it over to her mother-in-law.
“Dima, that’s my grandmother’s car. You know how much it means to me.”
“And my mother means nothing to you?” His voice rose. “You insulted her so badly she’s still trying to recover!”
Vera turned toward the window. In three years of marriage, this wasn’t their first conflict because of Valeria Yuryevna, but never had things reached demands this absurd.
“Dima, let’s talk calmly. What exactly happened?”
“What happened?” He sprang up from his chair. “You accused my mother of lying! In front of everyone! And then you were rude to her on top of that!”
Vera remembered the evening before. Valeria Yuryevna had shown up uninvited, right when Vera was preparing to celebrate their third wedding anniversary.
“Dima, she said I deliberately scheduled the celebration on the day she’s going to the theater! But we agreed on that date a month ago. And you yourself said it was a convenient day.”
“You could’ve just moved it!”
“Move our wedding anniversary because your mother suddenly decided to go to the theater?”
Dima took a deep breath, clearly trying to hold himself back.
“Either way, the way you spoke to her… Mom felt sick! She almost ended up in the hospital!”
Vera pressed her lips together. She remembered how Valeria Yuryevna had theatrically clutched her chest when Vera firmly said she wouldn’t change their plans.
“Fine. I’ll apologize to your mother. But giving her the car is absurd.”
Dima suddenly slammed his fist on the table.
“You have to transfer your car to my mother as an apology! Otherwise… otherwise I don’t know what will happen!”
Vera stared at her husband in silence. The man she’d once loved, the one she’d dreamed of spending her life with, now felt like a stranger—ready to take away her memory of someone dear for the sake of his mother’s whim.
“No,” she said firmly. “That won’t happen.”
Turning, Vera walked out of the kitchen, leaving Dima alone with his anger.
The next morning, Vera woke to the sound of the front door closing. Dima left for work without even saying goodbye. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering how their relationship had reached this point.
When they first met five years ago, everything was different. Dima was a confident young lawyer with a warm smile and kind eyes. He courted her beautifully, with imagination—bringing her wildflowers he’d picked himself outside the city, reading poems he’d written, taking her to small cozy cafés.
And then Vera met his mother. Valeria Yuryevna greeted her future daughter-in-law with a cold smile and an appraising look.
“An HR specialist? At a municipal institution? Well, not everyone is meant to build a career…” Those were her first words after they met.
After that, things never went smoothly. Valeria Yuryevna, a former city administration employee, was used to people listening to her opinion. She planned her son’s life down to the smallest detail—from his choice of profession to the color of his tie for work. And Vera didn’t fit into those plans at all.
A phone call snapped Vera out of her memories. Her friend’s name flashed on the screen.
“Anna, hi,” Vera tried to sound upbeat, but her voice gave her away.
“What happened?” Anna reacted immediately.
They’d been friends since university. Anna worked as a family-law attorney and had seen plenty of difficult situations.
“Dima and I had another fight because of his mother,” Vera briefly explained.
“You’re kidding. He wants you to give your mother-in-law the car?” Anna sounded genuinely stunned. “Vera, this is beyond all boundaries.”
“I don’t know what to do. He was in such a state yesterday… I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Listen,” Anna’s voice turned serious. “I’m speaking not as a friend now, but as a lawyer. This kind of behavior is a major red flag. It’s not just family disagreements anymore—it’s emotional pressure.”
Vera fell silent, processing her friend’s words.
“I have a window at lunch today. Let’s meet at the café near your office,” Anna suggested.
“Yes, thank you. That would be great.”
After hanging up, Vera began getting ready for work. Anna’s words about red flags kept spinning in her head. Had things with Dima truly reached a dead end? Or was this just another fight that would soon be forgotten?
At the HR department where Vera worked, it was unusually lively. Colleagues were discussing a new employee who was joining the team today.
“Vera Andreyevna, here’s your new assignment,” said Ekaterina Ivanovna, the department head, placing a folder on her desk. “You need to bring Sergey Viktorovich up to speed. He’ll be working on the staff development program.”
Vera nodded. Work always helped her escape her problems at home. Here, she was valued for her professionalism and responsibility. Here, she felt in her element.
“Good afternoon,” a man’s voice sounded behind her. “Sergey Klimov. Looks like we’ll be working together.”
Vera turned and saw a tall man with an open, friendly face.
“Vera Belova,” she said, offering her hand. “Welcome to our department.”
Vera spent her lunch break with Anna at a small café near work. Anna listened carefully to the story of the conflict.
“Vera, you need to understand one thing,” Anna said calmly but firmly. “What’s happening between you isn’t normal. A husband has no right to demand ‘apologies’ like that from you. It’s your property.”
“But maybe I really was too sharp with Valeria Yuryevna?”
“Even if you were, that’s not a reason to take your car away,” Anna shook her head. “And the most alarming part is that Dima is completely on his mother’s side, without even trying to understand the situation.”
Vera absentmindedly stirred her salad.
“I don’t want to destroy the family.”
“Are you sure you still have one?” Anna asked softly. “A family is when people support each other. When they solve problems together. What do you have right now?”
Vera stayed silent. She’d asked herself that question more than once.
“I can give you legal advice if you need it,” Anna added. “And remember: you’re not alone. You have support.”
Back at work, Vera tried to focus on onboarding the new colleague. Sergey turned out to be an attentive listener and picked things up quickly.
“You’ve got a really well-organized system,” he remarked when they finished reviewing the documentation. “At my last job, it was total chaos.”
“And where did you work before?” Vera asked.
“At a private firm. I left after my divorce,” he grew a little gloomier. “I needed a change of scenery.”
“Sorry—I didn’t mean to touch a sore subject.”
“It’s fine,” Sergey smiled. “It was for the best. Sometimes you need to find the strength to leave so you can start a new chapter.”
Those words unexpectedly echoed in Vera’s soul. Find the strength to leave…
That evening, as she drove up to her building, she noticed a familiar car. Valeria Yuryevna had come again, uninvited. Vera took a deep breath, bracing herself for a new round of conflict.
Loud voices echoed in the apartment. Valeria Yuryevna was emotionally arguing something to her son.
“Oh, look—our princess has arrived!” her mother-in-law cried when she saw Vera. “We were just talking about you.”
“Good evening, Valeria Yuryevna,” Vera replied calmly, taking off her coat.
“Good? After what you pulled?” Valeria Yuryevna pressed a hand to her heart theatrically. “I still can’t recover!”
Dima stood off to the side, avoiding his wife’s eyes.
“I came to apologize for yesterday’s incident,” Valeria Yuryevna continued. “We’re relatives, after all. We should be able to find common ground.”
Vera tensed. Her mother-in-law never came to make peace first.
“I’m very glad to hear that,” Vera answered carefully.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling Dima—we need to be closer. Help each other,” Valeria Yuryevna sat on the couch, patting the spot beside her. “Sit down, dear. Let’s talk.”
Vera remained standing.
“What did you want to talk about?”
“About the car, of course,” her mother-in-law smiled. “Dima said you’d think about his proposal. That’s very sensible.”
“I didn’t say she agreed,” Dima cut in quickly. “I said we’d discuss it.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Valeria Yuryevna waved her hand. “For Vera, that car is just a toy. But I need it for practical things—going to the dacha, hauling groceries.”
A wave of indignation rose inside Vera.
“Valeria Yuryevna, I respect you as Dima’s mother. But my car is not up for discussion. It’s a memory of my grandmother, and I’m not giving it away.”
“Oh, is that what you’re saying?” Valeria Yuryevna jumped up. “And what about respect for elders? What about apologies?”
“I’m ready to apologize with words, if you feel I was rude.”
“Words?” Valeria Yuryevna laughed. “Words are worth nothing!”
She turned to her son.
“Dima, do you hear how she talks to me? And you let her behave like this?”
Dima finally looked at his wife.
“Vera… maybe you should at least consider the option with the car? Mom really needs it more…”
Vera couldn’t believe her ears. He was still pushing this absurd demand.
“No, Dima. We’re not discussing this anymore.”
Valeria Yuryevna gasped loudly.
“How ungrateful! After everything I’ve done for you! Dima, are you really going to keep tolerating this?”
The next two weeks turned into a real nightmare for Vera. Valeria Yuryevna launched an all-out campaign against her daughter-in-law—calling Dima several times a day, complaining of poor health, blaming Vera for everything.
Dima grew more distant. He came home late, avoided conversation, and constantly checked his phone, waiting for another call from his mother.
The only bright spot for Vera was work. Sergey Klimov wasn’t just competent—he was also a good conversationalist. They often ate lunch together and talked not only about work.
“Did something happen?” he asked one day, noticing Vera’s distraction. “Sorry if I’m prying.”
“No, nothing,” she answered automatically—then decided to be honest. “Actually… yes. Family problems.”
“I get it,” Sergey nodded. “It was the same for me before my divorce.”
“Divorce…” Vera echoed. That word had already come to her mind more than once, but she’d been afraid to even think it.
“A hard decision,” Sergey continued. “But sometimes it’s the only right one. My ex–mother-in-law decided everything in our family—even what color tie I should wear to work. My wife always took her side.”
Vera flinched at the eerie similarity.
“And how did you decide?” she asked.
“I realized I wasn’t living my own life. That my wife was an extension of her mother. That I would never come first for her,” Sergey spoke calmly, without bitterness. “I asked myself: am I ready to live like that дальше? The answer was obvious.”
That evening, Vera came home determined to have a serious talk with her husband. But the apartment greeted her with unusual silence. Dima wasn’t back yet. A note lay on the table: “Went to Mom’s. I’ll be back late.”
Vera opened the closet to hang up her coat—and froze. Half of Dima’s things were gone. Had he moved in with his mother? Without saying a word?
She sank onto a chair, trying to comprehend what was happening. A knock at the door made her startle. On the threshold stood Oleg Petrovich, Dima’s father. Unlike his domineering wife, he was always quiet and unnoticeable, usually neutral in family conflicts.
“Vera, can I come in?” His voice sounded guilty.
“Of course, Oleg Petrovich. Come in.”
“I wanted to talk to you. Without Valeria and Dima,” he glanced around nervously, as if afraid they might hear. “You need to know what’s going on.”
They sat in the kitchen. Oleg Petrovich looked exhausted.
“Valeria has completely lost it over that car. She’s просто… obsessed with taking it from you. I’ve never seen her like this.”
“But why my car?” Vera couldn’t understand the fixation.
“It’s not about the car,” Oleg Petrovich sighed. “It’s about power. Valeria always has to control everything and everyone. And you… you’re the only one who resists her.”
Vera listened in silence, surprised by her father-in-law’s sudden frankness.
“This morning Dima brought some of his things to our place,” he continued. “Valeria is pressuring him to file for divorce. She says you…” he hesitated, “that you influence him badly.”
“Divorce?” Vera felt her heart skip.
“Yes,” Oleg Petrovich nodded. “And also… Valeria insists that during the property division, the car should go to Dima. She consulted a lawyer. She says there are ways to prove the car is marital property.”
Vera remembered Anna’s warning about red flags—and now one of those warnings was flashing bright red.
“Vera, I want you to know: I’m on your side,” Oleg Petrovich said quietly. “But against Valeria, I’m powerless. She… she always gets her way.”
After he left, Vera immediately called Anna. After listening, Anna said without hesitation:
“Vera, come to me. Right now. And check the car documents!”
When Vera opened the safe where she kept important papers, she discovered the registration certificate for the Volkswagen was gone. It looked like Dima had taken it.
“You’re filing for divorce?” Dima stared at his wife in disbelief when the next day she showed up at his parents’ apartment.
“And you’re surprised?” Vera replied calmly. “After you took my car documents?”
Dima went pale.
“How did you—”
“Doesn’t matter. Where are they?”
“With me… I mean, with the lawyer,” he stammered. “Vera, let’s talk спокойно. Not here.”
“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll be waiting in the car. My car.”
They sat inside the Volkswagen. People hurried past on their own errands, unaware of the drama unfolding inside an ordinary green car.
“Why did you take the documents without telling me?” Vera asked bluntly.
“I wanted… to consult whether it’s possible to transfer the car without your consent,” Dima admitted honestly. “Mom is so upset. You should see how she cries every day.”
Vera looked at him and didn’t recognize him. Where was the confident, principled man she’d once tied her life to?
“Dima, it’s my grandmother’s car. I restored it with my money. It isn’t even marital property. And you know that perfectly well—you’re a lawyer.”
“But Mom…”
“What does your mom have to do with this?” Vera raised her voice, then forced herself to calm down. “Tell me honestly: why are your mother’s wishes more important to you than your wife’s feelings?”
Dima lowered his eyes.
“You don’t understand. Mom always wanted what was best for me. She sacrificed a lot for me.”
“And now you have to sacrifice everything for her? Even your family?”
“My family includes her too,” Dima replied stubbornly.
Vera shook her head.
“When you married me, you promised that you and I would become a new family. That we’d build our life together. Where are those promises now?”
Dima said nothing.
“You took some of your things,” Vera continued. “You took my documents. You consulted a lawyer about divorce. Tell me—do you want a divorce?”
“No,” he said quickly. “But if you won’t make concessions…”
“Concessions?” Vera gave a bitter smile. “You call giving up my property to your mother a ‘concession’?”
Dima looked up at her.
“I love you, Vera. But Mom is дорогa to me too.”
“Then choose,” Vera said firmly. “Because I can’t live in a family where my opinion means nothing. Where your mother decides how we live. I filed for divorce. You’ll get the papers in a few days. And I want you to return my car documents. Otherwise I’ll go to the police.”
Dima flinched.
“You wouldn’t do that!”
“Not long ago, I thought you weren’t capable of stealing my documents either,” Vera shot back. “Looks like we were both wrong.”
Anna kept her promise and helped Vera handle the legal side of the divorce. The papers were filed, and the property division process began. After several consultations with a lawyer, Dima returned the car documents, admitting he had no claim to the vehicle.
Vera rented a small apartment near work. It was far more modest than the one she’d shared with Dima, but here she felt calm. There was no constant tension, no waiting for the next conflict.
At work, colleagues supported her—especially Sergey, who understood her situation better than anyone. They often talked after work, and those conversations helped Vera cope with the emotional strain of the divorce.
“The hardest part is making the decision,” Sergey would say. “After that, it gets easier. With time you’ll understand you did the right thing.”
Vera hoped he was right. Some nights she was overtaken by doubt. Maybe she should’ve just given in. Maybe she could’ve handed over the car and saved the marriage. But then she’d remember Dima stealing the documents, letting his mother into their life, never standing up for his wife… and she understood: the problem ran far deeper than just a car.
One day, returning from work, Vera saw a familiar figure near her building entrance. Valeria Yuryevna. Her first impulse was to turn around and leave, but Vera decided: no more running.
“Good evening, Valeria Yuryevna.”
“Not so good,” her mother-in-law pursed her lips. “You ruined my son’s family. Happy now?”
“I didn’t want that,” Vera replied calmly. “But sometimes you have to choose between your dignity and relationships that destroy you.”
“What lofty words!” Valeria Yuryevna snorted. “In reality you’re just selfish. You didn’t want to give up one pathetic car!”
“It was never about the car,” Vera looked her straight in the eyes. “It was about control. You wanted to control our life. And you used Dima to do it.”
“What nonsense!” Valeria Yuryevna protested, but something like fear flickered in her eyes. “I always wished you only good.”
“Maybe that’s how you saw it,” Vera nodded. “But your ‘good’ destroyed our family. And you know what? I won’t let you run my life anymore. Ever.”
She walked past her stunned mother-in-law and headed toward the entrance.
“You’ll regret this!” Valeria Yuryevna shouted after her. “Dima will find another woman! Better than you!”
Vera turned back.
“I sincerely wish him happiness. I hope he finds the strength to become an independent person.”
As she climbed the stairs, Vera felt a strange sense of relief—like an enormous weight had fallen from her shoulders. For the first time, she’d said everything she thought to Valeria Yuryevna: no screaming, no insults—just firm, confident truth.
The divorce went surprisingly smoothly. Dima didn’t contest Vera’s demands. They divided their jointly acquired property: Vera kept the car and some personal belongings. Dima got their apartment, which was fair considering his financial contribution to its purchase.
Six months passed. Vera gradually adapted to her new life. She still worked in HR, but now she held the position of deputy head of the department. Ekaterina Ivanovna highly valued her professionalism and responsibility.
Her relationship with Sergey grew from purely collegial into a strong friendship. He became a reliable support in difficult moments, asking nothing in return. Sometimes Vera caught his interested glances, but she wasn’t ready for a new relationship yet. The wounds from her previous marriage were still too fresh.
One day, leaving a supermarket, she unexpectedly ran into Dima. He looked tired, with shadows under his eyes, and his suit seemed too loose on him.
“Vera?” He stopped, staring at his ex-wife in surprise. “You… look good.”
“Thank you,” she said, involuntarily comparing him now to the Dima she’d once loved. “How are you?”
“Fine,” he shrugged. “Still at the same firm. Mom… Mom lives with me now.”
“Oh?” Vera wasn’t surprised.
“Yeah. She says it’s too hard for her alone,” Dima looked embarrassed. “She cooks for me, keeps an eye on the house…”
And on your life, Vera thought, but aloud she said, “I see. I hope you get along.”
Dima nodded, then suddenly blurted, “You were right.”
“About what?” Vera asked.
“About Mom вмешивается too much. Controlling too much,” he spoke quickly, as if afraid of being interrupted. “I understood it when it was too late. When you left.”
Vera looked at him with sadness. She no longer felt anger or resentment—only regret that their relationship hadn’t survived the test.
“Mom still talks about that car,” Dima continued with a bitter half-smile. “As if it wasn’t just a car, but some kind of principle. A symbol.”
“That’s what it was,” Vera replied quietly. “For her, it was a symbol of power. For me, a symbol of independence and память.”
They fell silent, not knowing what else to say.
“Vera, I…” Dima began, but she gently cut him off.
“It’s okay, Dima. We chose different paths. And I think that’s better for both of us.”
He nodded, understanding she was right.
“Good luck,” Vera said sincerely. “I hope you find your happiness.”
“You too,” he gave a weak smile. “You deserve it more than anyone.”
After saying goodbye, Vera walked to her car. The green Volkswagen—once the apple of discord—was now her symbol of freedom and a new life. A life where she made her own decisions and carried responsibility for them herself.
As she sat behind the wheel, she felt no regret, no bitterness—only a quiet joy at realizing she’d found the strength to change her life for the better. Ahead lay the road—and many new possibilities.
She started the engine, pulled out of the supermarket parking lot, and drove forward without looking back. Her story with Dima and his mother was in the past. Now she looked only to the future—free, filled with hope and вера in herself.
