Galina Petrovna walked in without knocking—using her own keys, as always. Lena was standing at the stove and didn’t even turn around.
“Lenochka, I brought cottage cheese. Real stuff, not that store-bought garbage. I see your fridge is empty—what are you feeding Andrey?”
Her mother-in-law went into the kitchen and started unloading groceries. Lena silently stepped back toward the window.
“And the place is a mess, too. The shelves are dirty, the vegetables are wilted. Good thing I came.”
The word came grated on Lena’s ear. Galina Petrovna said it as if she planned to stay for a long time.
Andrey came home that evening, exhausted. The moment he saw his mother, he perked up.
“Mom, how are you feeling? What did the doctor say?”
“Oh, nothing special. I’m just keeping an eye on you—on your own you can’t cope.”
At dinner, his mother picked up her fork, tasted the meat, and grimaced.
“Too salty. And tough. Andrey remembers how I cook—tender, with soul.”
Her husband nodded without lifting his eyes from his plate. Lena clenched her fists under the table.
“Tomorrow I’ll teach you, dear. Otherwise my son’s walking around hungry.”
In the morning, music blared at seven. Galina Petrovna was doing exercises in a tracksuit.
“Lena! Quiet in the kitchen! I need to concentrate!”
By lunchtime she had washed all the dishes, rearranged the jars, and thrown out half the food.
“It was expired. Good thing I checked. Otherwise you’ll poison yourselves.”
Lena stared at her kitchen. Even her grandmother’s salt cellar was gone.
“And where…?”
“What is it, dear? Oh, that old thing? I put it away—it’s ugly. I have a better one.”
That evening Andrey praised her:
“Mom, it’s so clean now! Lena, thank Mom.”
Lena said nothing. Eight years of marriage, and he still didn’t understand.
Three weeks later, over breakfast, Galina Petrovna announced:
“Kids, I’ve got news. I’ve decided to do renovations—my pipes are in terrible shape. I’ll have to stay with you.”
Andrey nodded immediately.
“Of course, Mom. Stay as long as you need.”
“And how long will that be?” Lena asked quietly.
“Who knows with builders. Maybe a month, maybe half a year.”
A satisfied spark flashed in her mother-in-law’s eyes.
The next day a car arrived. Three suitcases, boxes of dishes, houseplants.
“Lena, sweetheart, clear out half the closet for me. And I’ll need shelves in the bathroom.”
By evening the apartment had changed. The sofa had been turned around, the pictures rehung, the table covered with medications.
“Now it’s cozy! Andrey, how do you like it?”
“Great, Mom. Right, Lena?”
Lena stood by the window. Even the view outside looked чужим—like it didn’t belong to her anymore.
A week passed in commands and instructions.
“Lena, you’re doing the laundry wrong—you waste too much detergent.”
“Lena, you cook too greasy—I need a diet.”
“Lena, you vacuum badly—there’s dust under the sofa.”
Andrey nodded every time.
“Mom’s right, Lena. She’s experienced.”
Two weeks later, his mother said the main words:
“You know what, kids? Maybe I shouldn’t go back at all. It’s comfortable here, and everything’s under control.”
Lena froze with a cup in her hands.
“What do you mean—not go back?”
Andrey turned to her in surprise.
“What’s the big deal? Family should be together. You have to accept my mom!”
Silence hung like a heavy weight.
That evening Lena waited for her husband in the kitchen. She sat in the dark, thinking.
“Andrey, I need to talk to you.”
He sat down across from her, tired.
“If it’s about Mom—we’ve already decided everything.”
“We haven’t decided anything. You announced a decision for both of us.”
Andrey rubbed his forehead.
“Lena, be reasonable. She’s old, she’s alone…”
“And what am I—not alone? In my own home?”
He sighed.
“She’s my mother. I can’t abandon her.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
The words came out quieter than Lena intended. But clearer.
“Lena, don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic. Choose—either your mother goes back to her place, or I’m the one leaving this home.”
Andrey stared down at the table for a long minute.
“I can’t kick my mother out.”
Lena nodded.
“Got it.”
In the morning she packed a bag. Galina Petrovna was reading a newspaper on the sofa.
“Where are you off to?”
“To a friend’s. Not for long.”
“Good. Cool off, come to your senses.”
Lena walked out without looking back.
For a week she lived at her friend’s place, planning. Andrey called every day.
“Lena, stop sulking. Mom keeps asking when you’re coming back.”
“And what do you tell her?”
“That soon. You can’t live with strangers forever.”
On the eighth day Lena came back. But not alone.
“Andrey, Galina Petrovna—meet my mother.”
Behind Lena stood a short woman with kind eyes and a small bag.
Her mother-in-law jumped up from the sofa.
“What is this supposed to be?”
“My mom needs care too. She’ll be living with us.”
Galina Petrovna turned crimson.
“There’s no room here for outsiders!”
Lena calmly took off her jacket.
“Strange. There was room for you.”
Andrey looked from his mother to his wife, lost.
“Lena, what are you doing?”
“The same thing you did. Taking care of someone I love.”
Lena’s mother modestly walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Galina Petrovna rushed around the apartment.
“Andrey! Throw that woman out immediately!”
“Mom, but if you can live here, why can’t Lena’s mother?”
His mother-in-law stopped and stared at her son.
“Because I’m your mother! This is my home!”
Lena’s mother peeked out from the kitchen.
“Galina Petrovna, don’t worry. I’m quiet, I won’t take up much space. You’ll get used to me.”
The last words sounded painfully familiar. Galina Petrovna heard the echo of her own phrases.
By evening the tension hit its limit. Galina Petrovna searched for reasons to fight.
“She cooks too spicy! My stomach is sick!”
Lena sat down beside her on the sofa.
“Put up with it, Galina Petrovna. My mom is kind—you’ll get along.”
“I’m not going to get along with anyone!”
“Then what are we supposed to do? Family should be together, after all.”
Every word landed dead center. Galina Petrovna grabbed at her chest.
“This is mockery! I can’t take it anymore!”
Lena’s mother brought her valerian.
“Drink this, calm down. I was upset at first too, when I ended up with strangers. But nothing—we adjusted.”
Andrey sat in the kitchen, finally understanding the horror of it.
“Lena, what are you plotting? Two mothers in one house…”
“You said I had to accept it. Now you accept it.”
In the morning Galina Petrovna stood by the door with her suitcases.
“Andrey, I’m leaving! I won’t tolerate strangers in the house!”
“Mom, wait. Maybe you can agree somehow…”
“I won’t agree with anyone! Either she leaves, or I do!”
Lena’s mother calmly washed dishes, humming a little tune.
Lena walked her mother-in-law to the threshold.
“Galina Petrovna, the door is always open. Come back whenever you want.”
“And if your mother stays?”
“As long as she needs to.”
The door slammed.
Half an hour later, Lena’s mother packed her bag.
“Daughter, I should go home. The job is done.”
Andrey finally saw clearly.
“You came on purpose?”
“What did you think? Lena asked me to show you what it’s like—sharing your home with a stranger.”
Lena hugged her mom.
“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
When her mother left, the spouses were alone. Andrey sat on the sofa where his mother’s pillows had been yesterday.
“You planned all this?”
“I just let you feel what I’ve been feeling for eight years.”
Lena flung the windows wide open. Fresh air filled the apartment.
“And if Mom comes back?”
“Then we’ll talk about rules. Honestly, and in advance.”
She took her grandmother’s salt cellar out of the back of the cabinet and put it in its usual place.
“Andrey, I’m not against your mom. But this is our home. And I’m the woman of the house.”
Her husband was silent, watching as his wife returned the apartment to the way it used to be. The lesson had been learned.
A week later Galina Petrovna called.
“Andrey, can I come by? Just to visit.”
“Of course, Mom.”
She arrived with a small bouquet and sat quietly at the table. She tasted Lena’s food and nodded.
“Delicious. Teach me that recipe sometime.”
As she was leaving, she stopped at the door.
“Lena, forgive me. I understand now.”
After she left, Andrey hugged his wife.
“You turned out to be smarter than all of us.”
“I just know the value of my home.”
That evening they sat on the sofa, watching TV. For the first time in months—just the two of them. Lena smiled. The war was over. And she had won
