“Why did you transfer fifty thousand to my mother? I asked you not to do that!” Tatiana stood in the middle of the entryway, clutching a bank statement in her hand. Her hands were shaking with anger, and tears of hurt glimmered in her eyes.
Dmitry froze in the doorway, not even having time to take off his jacket. His face showed a mix of surprise and irritation.
“Where did you find out? Are you checking my accounts?”
“The statement came to our joint email!” Tatiana waved the paper in front of his face. “We had an agreement! No money to your mother until she stops humiliating us!”
Dmitry let out a heavy sigh and walked into the living room, pulling off his jacket as he went. Tatiana followed, not intending to back down.
Their apartment in a new building was furnished modestly but with taste. Every item had been bought after long discussions and careful saving. Tatiana worked as an accountant at a small firm; Dmitry was an engineer at a factory. Together they earned enough for a normal life, but not so much that they could casually throw around sums like that.
“Mom asked for help,” Dmitry muttered, sitting down on the sofa. “She has health problems—she needs expensive procedures.”
“Procedures?” Tatiana sat down across from him, folding her arms over her chest. “Last time it was urgent medication for thirty thousand. The time before that—an operation for seventy. Dima, your mother is draining us!”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!” Dmitry flared up. “She raised me alone—she worked her whole life for me!”
Tatiana gave a bitter smirk. In five years of marriage she had heard that phrase hundreds of times. Her mother-in-law, Nina Petrovna, really had raised her son alone after the divorce. But she used it like a weapon, constantly reminding Dmitry of her sacrifices.
“You know what?” Tatiana stood up and went to the wardrobe in the bedroom. “I’m going to show you something.”
She came back with a folder where she kept documents. She pulled out several photographs printed from social media.
“Look. This is your mom two weeks ago at a spa resort in Kislovodsk. See that ‘sick’ smile? And here she is in a restaurant with her friends. That’s probably medical nutrition on our dime too, right?”
Dmitry took the photos, and his face fell. In the pictures Nina Petrovna looked radiant—tanned, in a new dress, with a professional blowout.
“Where did you get these?” he asked quietly.
“Her friend Valentina posts everything on Odnoklassniki. I stumbled on it by accident when I was looking up a recipe for that pie you like. Your mom is perfectly fine, Dima! She’s just manipulating you!”
Dmitry tossed the photos onto the coffee table.
“Maybe she got better after treatment? Did you think of that?”
“After what treatment?” Tatiana felt anger boiling up inside her. “She can’t even clearly name her diagnosis! One time it’s her heart, then her kidneys, then her joints! And every time she needs cash—no transfers to a clinic account!”
“That’s enough!” Dmitry jumped up. “She’s my mother! I’m going to help her whether you like it or not!”
“And I’m your wife!” Tatiana shouted. “Or does that mean nothing? We’ve been saving for two years for the down payment to get a bigger place! We’re supposed to have a baby, Dima! And you’re giving all our savings to your mother for her whims!”
“If you can’t understand that family is sacred, then maybe we don’t need a child at all!” Dmitry blurted out—and immediately fell silent when he saw how pale his wife turned.
Without a word, Tatiana turned around and went into the bedroom, slamming the door loudly. Dmitry stayed in the living room, sitting with his head in his hands. A heavy silence hung in the apartment.
The next morning they didn’t speak. Tatiana silently made breakfast; Dmitry silently ate and went to work. But as soon as the door closed behind him, the intercom rang.
“Tatiana? It’s me—buzz me in!” her mother-in-law’s commanding voice came through the speaker.
Tatiana grimaced. Nina Petrovna had a habit of showing up without warning, especially when she sensed her son and daughter-in-law had fought—like she had some special radar for family conflict.
Five minutes later her mother-in-law was already seated in the kitchen, critically inspecting everything.
“Porridge again for breakfast?” she snorted, peering into the pot on the stove. “Dima likes an omelet with bacon—I’ve told you a hundred times!”
“Bacon is unhealthy,” Tatiana replied dryly, pouring tea.
Nina Petrovna was around sixty but looked younger. Dyed chestnut hair styled neatly, manicured nails, light makeup. She was wearing an expensive suit Tatiana had never seen before.
“Health, health,” her mother-in-law mimicked. “A man needs meat! No wonder you still don’t have children. Dima probably doesn’t have the strength!”
Tatiana clenched her teeth to keep from snapping back. The subject of children was painful—they’d been trying for a year without success, and every hint from her mother-in-law hit the sorest spot.
“Why did you come, Nina Petrovna?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay calm.
“What do you mean, why? To check on you!” her mother-in-law threw up her hands theatrically. “Dimочка called yesterday—so upset. Said you’re fighting again over money. Tsk-tsk, Tanya! You can’t be so greedy!”
“Greedy?” Tatiana felt her cheeks flush. “I’m greedy? We give you half our family budget!”
“Don’t exaggerate!” Nina Petrovna waved her off. “And anyway, it’s my son’s money. He can do whatever he wants with it!”
“It’s our money. We’re a family!”
“Family?” her mother-in-law gave a contemptuous snort. “Family is blood relatives. And you… you’re a temporary phenomenon in my son’s life. Today you’re here, tomorrow you’re gone!”
Tatiana jumped up, knocking over her cup. Hot tea spilled across the table.
“How dare you say that? We’ve been married five years!”
“So what?” Nina Petrovna didn’t even move, watching as her daughter-in-law fussed with a rag. “Dima’s ex, Alyona, thought it was forever too. And where is she now? Exactly.”
Mentioning Dmitry’s ex-girlfriend was another favorite tactic. Alyona was the daughter of Nina Petrovna’s friend, and she still regretted her son hadn’t married her.
“Get out,” Tatiana said quietly, wringing the rag into the sink. “Get out of my house. Right now.”
“Yours?” her mother-in-law laughed. “Girl, this apartment was bought with money I gave Dima! So if anyone should leave…”
“What money?” Tatiana went rigid. “We saved the down payment ourselves! We put money aside for three years!”
Nina Petrovna smiled triumphantly.
“Then ask your husband where he got the last two hundred thousand for the down payment. Do you think an engineer’s salary lets you save that fast?”
Tatiana felt the ground slip out from under her feet. She remembered how Dmitry had happily announced he’d received a bonus at work—those exact two hundred thousand they’d been short.
“You’re lying,” she whispered.
“Check,” her mother-in-law said, standing up and straightening her jacket. “And think carefully before you start making demands. I can ask for that money back. I have an IOU.”
She headed for the door, then turned back in the doorway.
“And one more thing, dear. Dimочка will never choose you if he has to choose between us. Remember that!”
When the door closed behind her, Tatiana sank onto a chair and burst into tears. For five years she had been building a family, enduring nitpicks and humiliation, hoping things would get better with time. But it only got worse.
That evening, when Dmitry came home from work, Tatiana was waiting for him in the living room. The apartment documents lay on the table alongside a blank sheet of paper.
“What’s this?” he asked warily.
“Sit down,” Tatiana pointed to the chair across from her. “We need to have a serious talk.”
Dmitry sat, not taking his eyes off the documents.
“Your mother came by today. She said she gave us two hundred thousand for the apartment. Is that true?”
Dmitry went pale, then flushed red.
“Tanya, I can explain…”
“Just answer: yes or no?”
“Yes,” he forced out. “But it’s not exactly like she says! She offered to help—I didn’t ask!”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Tatiana tried to keep her voice steady, though everything inside her was raging. “You let me believe it was your bonus?”
“I didn’t want to upset you! I knew you’d be against it!”
“Of course I’d be against it! Because now your mother thinks she bought us! That she can come here like it’s her own home and tell us how to live!”
“She’s my mother, Tanya! My only real family!”
“And who am I?” Tatiana stood and walked to the window. Outside, the autumn evening was darkening, drizzle streaking the glass. “A stranger? A temporary phenomenon, like she said today?”
“She said that?” Dmitry frowned. “Mom goes too far sometimes, but she doesn’t mean harm. She just worries about me.”
“Worries?” Tatiana spun around. “She’s destroying our marriage—deliberately, methodically! And you’re helping her do it!”
“Don’t be dramatic!”
“I’m not being dramatic! Dima, look the truth in the face! Your mother is manipulating you! She isn’t sick—she doesn’t need money for treatment! She just wants you on a short leash!”
Dmitry sprang up, his face twisting with anger.
“How can you say that? She gave me her whole life!”
“And now she demands payment!” Tatiana shot back. “Normal parents don’t demand payback for raising their child!”
“If it’s that bad for you with me and my family, maybe you should leave,” Dmitry said coldly.
Silence fell. Tatiana looked at her husband and didn’t recognize him. A stranger stood before her—his mother’s little boy, incapable of making independent decisions.
“Fine,” she said softly. “I’ll leave. But first we’re going to sort out the apartment. If your mother gave two hundred thousand, she can take it back. And we’ll sell the apartment and split what’s left fifty-fifty.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Dmitry went pale. “This is our home!”
“It was our home. Now it’s just real estate I can’t stay in anymore.”
Tatiana grabbed her purse and headed to the entryway.
“Where are you going?” Dmitry asked, bewildered.
“To my parents. To think. And you should think too—what you want: a family with me, or the eternal role of mommy’s boy.”
She walked out, closing the door softly behind her.
A week passed in silence. Tatiana stayed with her parents in their small two-room apartment on the outskirts of the city. Her mother, Elena Ivanovna, silently stroked her hair when she cried in the evenings. Her father, Mikhail Stepanovich, frowned and grumbled something about men these days, but didn’t offer advice.
Dmitry called every day, but Tatiana didn’t pick up. He wrote messages—she didn’t reply. On the fifth day a message came from her mother-in-law:
“Tanechka, let’s meet and talk like adults. The café on Sadovaya, tomorrow at three.”
Tatiana thought for a long time about whether to go. Curiosity won out.
Nina Petrovna was already waiting in the café, as always impeccably dressed and coiffed. In front of her stood a cup of expensive coffee and a plate with a pastry.
“Sit,” she nodded to the chair opposite. “Order something—I’m treating.”
“No thanks, I don’t want anything,” Tatiana sat down without taking off her coat.
“As you wish,” her mother-in-law shrugged. “So—have you come to your senses? Ready to come back?”
“What makes you think I want to come back?”
Nina Petrovna smirked.
“Girl, don’t play proud. Your parents’ apartment, no prospects. You’re thirty-two, no children. Who needs you?”
Tatiana clenched her fists under the table, but forced herself to smile.
“You know, Nina Petrovna, you’re right. I’m thirty-two, and I spent five years on a marriage with a man who can’t separate from his mother. But I have a job, an education, and my whole life ahead of me. And you…”
“What about me?” her mother-in-law tensed.
“You have a son who will never become a real man. Who will live with you until you die—and then he’ll be left alone. Because no normal woman will put up with what I put up with.”
Nina Petrovna turned red.
“How dare you!”
“And how dare you destroy my family?” Tatiana stood up. “You know what? Keep him. Live together. Wash his socks. Make him omelets with bacon. And when you’re gone, he’ll be a useless, unwanted infantile man. That will be on your conscience!”
She turned and headed for the exit, but her mother-in-law called after her:
“Tanya, wait! Maybe we can find a compromise?”
Tatiana turned around. Nina Petrovna looked shaken, as if she’d finally realized she’d gone too far.
“What compromise?” Tatiana asked wearily.
“Come back to Dima. I… I’ll interfere less. And I won’t ask for money!”
“Too late,” Tatiana shook her head. “You already showed Dima he can choose you over his wife. And he chose. Now live with that choice.”
A month later Tatiana filed for divorce. Dmitry tried to talk her out of it, came to her parents’ place, but she wouldn’t come out to see him. Finally he sent a long letter, begging, promising he would change, swearing he would put his mother in her place.
Tatiana replied briefly: “Too late.”
They sold the apartment. After repaying the debt to her mother-in-law and splitting what remained, Tatiana got enough for a down payment on a small one-bedroom place. She rented an apartment closer to work and started a new life.
Six months later Dmitry’s former coworker, Irina, called her.
“Tanya, hi! I heard you and Dima got divorced?”
“Yes. It’s been six months.”
“Listen, I’m not calling to gossip… I just thought you should know. Dima’s really bad. He barely shows up at work, looks awful. They say he’s started drinking. And his mother’s running around to everyone she knows trying to find him a bride. But nobody even agrees to a date once they hear what kind of mother-in-law she is!”
Tatiana was silent for a moment, then sighed.
“I feel sorry for Dima. I really do. But it was his choice.”
“You’re right,” Irina agreed. “By the way, how are you? They say you moved to another firm?”
“Yes—they offered me chief accountant. The salary’s twice as high!”
“Wow! Congrats! And your personal life?”
Tatiana smiled, looking at the bouquet of roses on the table—a gift from a new admirer, a grown, independent man whose mother lived in another city and didn’t meddle in his life.
“Slowly getting better.”
A year later, Tatiana ran into Nina Petrovna by chance in a shopping mall. Her former mother-in-law had aged and grown gaunt; the expensive suit had been replaced by a simple sweater and skirt.
“Tanya?” she called uncertainly.
Tatiana stopped. Beside her stood a tall man with kind brown eyes—her new husband, Alexander.
“Hello, Nina Petrovna.”
“How are you?” her mother-in-law looked at her with something like pity. “I heard you got married again?”
“Yes,” Tatiana looped her arm through Alexander’s. “This is my husband, Sasha.”
“Nice to meet you,” Alexander muttered, clearly having heard plenty about his wife’s ex-mother-in-law.
“And how’s Dima?” Tatiana asked out of politeness.
Nina Petrovna sniffled.
“Bad. He quit his job, sits at home all day. I get a small pension—we can barely make ends meet. And worst of all—his character’s turned awful! He yells at me, blames me for everything…”
“I’m very sorry,” Tatiana said—and it was true. She really did feel sorry for both Dima and his mother, who had ruined her son’s life with her own hands.
“Tanya, maybe you…” Nina Petrovna began, but Tatiana gently cut her off.
“No, Nina Petrovna. What’s done is done. All the best to you.”
She and Alexander walked on, while her former mother-in-law remained standing in the middle of the mall—small, lost, realizing far too late what price had been paid for the desire to control her son’s life.
Tatiana didn’t look back. A new life awaited her—with a man who chose her, not his mother. A man who could make his own decisions and take responsibility for them. A real family, where the mother-in-law had clear boundaries and the wife had respect and love.
And somewhere in an old apartment on the outskirts, two people continued living—an aging mother and her grown son, forever bound by a toxic love that wouldn’t let either of them truly live. The mother-in-law got what she wanted: her son stayed with her. But instead of joy, it brought only bitterness and loneliness together.
Tatiana’s story became a cautionary example for many of her friends who faced similar problems. She proved that sometimes leaving isn’t a defeat—it’s a victory. A victory over the fear of being alone, over the habit of enduring humiliation, over the illusion that everything will fix itself.
Life is too short to waste it on toxic relationships. And if you have to choose between being a wife and being an eternal daughter-in-law to a domineering mother-in-law, the choice is obvious. Because a real family is built by two adults—not a boy tied to his mother’s skirt and a woman trying to pull him away from it.
