Alyona stood in front of the mirror in the hotel room, adjusting her veil. Two months ago she had married Dmitry Volkov, and that day had seemed the happiest of her life. The wedding was small—about thirty guests, a modest reception at a café—but everything felt heartfelt and warm.
After the celebration, the newlyweds went on a short honeymoon trip to the seaside. When they returned, they immediately started looking for a rental apartment. Dima worked as an engineer at a factory, Alyona as an administrator at a medical center, and together they earned enough to rent a decent place in the city center.
They chose a one-room apartment in a new building with a good renovation. The landlady turned out to be reasonable and agreed to their terms right away. Alyona and Dima were happy that they would finally live their own life, without parental control.
A week after moving into the rented apartment, Dima came home earlier than usual. His face looked strangely detached, and Alyona immediately sensed something was wrong. She was cooking dinner when her husband walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table.
“Lyon, I quit,” he said without any preface.
Alyona froze with the knife in her hand.
“What do you mean you quit? What happened?”
“I got sick of it. I’m tired of that job. Same thing every day, the boss nitpicks, the atmosphere is depressing. I decided to take a break, rest a bit, and then I’ll find something better.”
Alyona slowly set the knife down on the cutting board.
“Dima, but we’re renting an apartment… My salary alone won’t cover everything. You could’ve at least warned me!”
“Well, sorry,” he spread his hands. “It was a spontaneous decision. I thought you’d understand. It’s not for long—one or two months max.”
Alyona didn’t answer. Anxiety rose inside her, but she tried not to show her worry to her husband.
Three weeks passed, and Dima still hadn’t started looking for a new job. He spent his days at home playing computer games or watching TV series. Alyona came home from work exhausted and found her husband in the same position she’d left him in that morning—on the couch with a laptop on his knees.
Money was disappearing fast. Rent, utilities, groceries—all of it fell on Alyona’s shoulders. She began working overtime, taking extra shifts, but it still wasn’t enough.
One evening at dinner, Dima said casually:
“Listen, what if we move in with Mom for a while? She’s got a three-room place, lots of space, and we could save some money.”
Alyona choked on her soup.
“To your mom? Seriously?”
“Why not? Just temporarily. Three or four months. Then I’ll find a job and we’ll move back.”
Alyona didn’t know Irina Petrovna very well. They had met a few times before the wedding, and every time her mother-in-law looked at her with an appraising stare that made Alyona uneasy. But there was no other way out—the rental apartment was eating up almost Alyona’s entire salary.
“Fine,” she exhaled. “But only for a while.”
On Saturday they packed their things and went to Irina Petrovna’s. Her mother-in-law greeted them at the door with a wide smile, but her eyes stayed cold. She hugged her son, kissed him on both cheeks, and only gave Alyona a brief nod.
“Come in, come in. I’ve prepared a room for you, fresh sheets. Dima, you know where everything is.”
They went inside. The apartment was large but dark—heavy brown curtains blocked out the light, and old-fashioned framed family photos hung on the walls. It smelled stale, a mix of medicine and old things.
Irina Petrovna led them to a room at the end of the hallway. There was an old sofa, a wardrobe, and a desk.
“Settle in here. Just don’t touch the wardrobe—my winter things are in there. I’ll clear it out later when I get around to it.”
Dima immediately collapsed onto the sofa and reached for his phone. Alyona began unpacking their few belongings, feeling her tension rise with every passing minute.
The first morning in her mother-in-law’s apartment began with a remark. Alyona went to the kitchen to make herself coffee and found Irina Petrovna sitting at the table with a cup of tea. Her mother-in-law swept her with a displeased look.
“Good morning, Irina Petrovna,” Alyona greeted her.
“And good health to you. Listen—did you lock the front door yesterday?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then why didn’t you turn the bottom lock? I checked at night—only one lock was turned.”
Alyona was taken aback.
“I… didn’t know both locks had to be locked.”
“Didn’t know,” Irina Petrovna mimicked. “What if burglars come? You don’t think about the safety of the home?”
“I’m sorry, Irina Petrovna. Next time I’ll lock both.”
Her mother-in-law snorted and turned toward the window. Alyona poured coffee with trembling hands, realizing this would be every day.
The next day Irina Petrovna criticized the way Alyona washed the dishes. Then—how she hung the laundry on the balcony. Dima reacted to his mother’s comments with a shrug and went back to the room.
“Mom, don’t pick on her,” he sometimes muttered weakly, but immediately fell silent under Irina Petrovna’s stern gaze.
By the end of the first week Alyona understood she’d fallen into a trap. Irina Petrovna controlled her every step. If Alyona cooked dinner, her mother-in-law hovered over her and told her how to cut vegetables properly. If she did laundry, she explained that detergent had to be measured out strictly—no more and no less.
“There must be order in my home,” Irina Petrovna repeated. “I’m not used to sloppiness.”
Even when Alyona simply sat in the room reading a book, her mother-in-law managed to find something to criticize.
“Why are you sitting around doing nothing? You could wash the floors if you have free time.”
Alyona tried to object, saying she was tired after work, but Irina Petrovna didn’t listen.
“In my day women worked and kept the house too. Young people today are spoiled.”
Worst of all, Dima didn’t stand up for his wife. Either he pretended not to hear, or he agreed with his mother.
“Well, Mom’s right, Lyon. You can see the floor’s dirty,” he said in an indifferent tone.
With each day, Alyona felt irritation build inside her. But there was nowhere to go—there still wasn’t money for a rental.
After a month living with Irina Petrovna, Alyona became irritable and anxious. At work her colleagues asked if everything was okay—she looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes had become permanent. Alyona waved it off, saying she just had a lot of work.
At home the atmosphere grew increasingly tense. Her mother-in-law found new reasons to criticize: Alyona hung the towel in the bathroom wrong, spoke too loudly on the phone, folded laundry incorrectly.
“Do you even know how to run a household?” Irina Petrovna asked with a snide smile. “Or did your mother not teach you?”
Alyona clenched her teeth and stayed silent. Arguing was pointless—her mother-in-law would find something else to pick at anyway.
Meanwhile Dima continued “searching for himself.” He told his wife he wasn’t looking for just any job, but a calling. He wanted something interesting, not just walking into a factory for a paycheck.
“Dima, but we need money!” Alyona said. “We can’t live at your mom’s forever!”
“I understand. Just a little longer and I’ll find something suitable. I promise.”
But weeks went by, and Dima still didn’t begin any real job search.
In the middle of the second month at her mother-in-law’s, Alyona took vacation. A whole month she didn’t have to go to work, and she hoped this time would help her recover. The director of the medical center approved her request without questions—Alyona hadn’t taken time off in a long while and had been working herself to exhaustion.
The first days of vacation Alyona spent in bed. She just slept, turning off her alarm and phone. Her body demanded rest, and she finally gave it what she’d denied it for so long. Dima was surprised his wife could sleep twelve hours a day, but he didn’t interfere.
Irina Petrovna, however, thought differently.
“What kind of laziness is this?” she declared one morning, barging into the room without knocking. “It’s already ten and you’re still lying there!”
“I’m on vacation, Irina Petrovna. I’m resting.”
“You can rest while doing things. Back when I was your age…”
Alyona pulled the blanket over her head, making it clear the conversation was over. Her mother-in-law snorted and left, slamming the door loudly.
By the end of the first week of vacation, Alyona felt she had recovered a little. Sleep and quiet had done their job—her strength began to return.
In the second week Alyona decided to do something useful. She started studying recipes online and writing interesting ideas into a notebook. She had always liked cooking, but lately she’d had no time at all.
One evening she made French-style baked meat with mushrooms and potato gratin. The aroma filled the whole apartment, and even Irina Petrovna came to the kitchen, drawn by the smell.
“Are you cooking?” she asked in surprise.
“Yes. I decided to try a new recipe.”
At dinner her mother-in-law silently tasted the dish, chewed, then nodded.
“Not bad. Even tasty,” she admitted reluctantly.
Dima nodded vigorously with his mouth full.
“Lyon, it’s really delicious! You should cook like this more often.”
Alyona felt a small victory. For the first time in a long while Irina Petrovna said something not critical, almost complimentary. Maybe if Alyona tried hard, her mother-in-law would start treating her better?
In the following days Alyona cooked different dishes and experimented with recipes. Irina Petrovna still didn’t lavish praise, but she picked on Alyona less.
In the third week of vacation Alyona decided to take care of herself. She booked a massage at a salon near the house—she’d wanted to for a long time but never found the time. The massage therapist was a professional, and after the session Alyona felt renewed.
Then she went to the hairdresser. Her hair had grown out and lost its shape; she needed a new haircut. The stylist suggested a long bob with light highlights. Alyona agreed, and the result exceeded expectations—she looked younger and fresher.
That evening she met her friend Marina at a café. They hadn’t seen each other for months, and they had plenty to talk about. Marina gasped when she saw the new haircut.
“Lyon, you look amazing! What happened to you?”
“Vacation,” Alyona smiled. “I decided to take care of myself a bit.”
They talked for hours. Alyona told her friend about life at her mother-in-law’s—Irina Petrovna’s nitpicking, her unemployed husband. Marina listened, shaking her head.
“Lyon, this isn’t normal! You shouldn’t have to live like that!”
“I know. But what can I do? No money for rent, Dima isn’t working…”
“Is he even going to look for a job?”
“He says he’s looking for a calling,” Alyona gave a bitter chuckle.
Marina took her friend’s hand.
“Listen to me. You don’t have to endure all this. If it gets unbearable—come to me. You can stay for a while.”
Alyona nodded, feeling tears rise in her throat. It was good to know there were people on her side.
In the fourth week of vacation, with only a week left before returning to work, Alyona came home after a walk in the park. Her mood was upbeat—the weather was warm and sunny, and she’d spent a couple of hours outdoors with a book.
As she entered the apartment, Alyona immediately heard noise from the living room. She went in and saw Irina Petrovna on a stepladder. Her mother-in-law was taking down old curtains from the rod, and new ones lay on the floor—dark green, heavy, with gold tassels along the edges.
“Irina Petrovna, do you want help?” Alyona offered.
“No need. I can handle it,” her mother-in-law waved her off.
Alyona still stepped closer and picked up the new curtain. She immediately noticed the hooks were the old type—plastic, with thin clasps that broke easily.
“Where did you buy the curtains?” Alyona asked.
“At the market. Why?”
Alyona turned the hook in her fingers.
“You know, these hooks aren’t very convenient. They break quickly, and then it’s hard to hang the curtain on the rod. My parents had exactly these—we really struggled with them.”
Irina Petrovna slowly turned her head and looked down at her daughter-in-law from top to bottom.
“You really should’ve bought different hooks—these are inconvenient,” Alyona continued, not noticing her mother-in-law’s changing expression. “They cost about fifty rubles more per pack, but it’s much easier to hang the curtains with them. The clasp is different—more reliable. My mom and I replaced all the curtains at home last year, tried different options, and these turned out to be the best. If you want, I can show you online where to buy them.”
Alyona pulled out her phone, about to find a link, but Irina Petrovna suddenly climbed down from the stepladder. Her face turned red, her eyes narrowed.
“Who are you to teach me, you freeloader?” her mother-in-law snapped. “Living off my money and you still have the nerve to open your mouth!”
Alyona froze with her phone in her hand, not understanding what had happened. She wanted to help, give useful advice—and got an insult in return.
“I… Irina Petrovna, I just wanted—”
“I know what you wanted!” her mother-in-law cut her off. “To tell me how to do things! I’ve been hanging curtains for forty years, and you come in here teaching me! Who do you think you are?!”
Alyona stepped back, but Irina Petrovna wouldn’t stop.
“You sit here stuffing your face with my food, using my apartment! And you don’t want to work—resting for a whole month on vacation! Now that’s unemployed—truly unemployed!”
“But I do work!” Alyona protested. “I’m just on vacation, which I earned! And anyway, I’m the one supporting Dima and me right now because he’s not working!”
“That’s right—he’s not working!” Irina Petrovna jabbed a finger toward her. “My son quit because of you! You spoiled him—now he thinks he can sit on his wife’s neck!”
“That’s not true! Dima decided to quit on his own—I was against it!”
“You’re lying!” her mother-in-law raised her voice even more. “I know what you said behind my son’s back! You said he earns too little at the factory, that he needs a better job!”
Alyona was shocked. She had indeed once told Dima it would be nice to find a higher-paying job, but it had been a wish, not a demand.
“Irina Petrovna, you’re twisting everything…”
“Quiet! In my house I say what I think! And you’re just a temporary guest, so keep your mouth shut and don’t stick your advice where it doesn’t belong!”
Alyona took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Her hands were shaking, but she pulled herself together.
“Fine. Let me explain calmly. I’m not a freeloader. I work as an administrator at a medical center and earn a decent salary. Right now I’m simply on vacation, which I’m legally entitled to. I have the right to rest.”
Irina Petrovna folded her arms over her chest.
“And what good is your salary? It still isn’t enough for anything!”
“It isn’t enough because Dima hasn’t worked for two months!” Alyona raised her voice. “I alone pay all our expenses—buy groceries, medicine, clothes. Dima doesn’t bring a single ruble into the family, and you’re calling me a freeloader?!”
Her mother-in-law’s cheek twitched.
“My son is finding himself! He doesn’t just want a job—he wants a calling!”
“A calling?” Alyona laughed. “He plays games all day! What calling?!”
“Don’t you dare talk about Dima like that!”
“What—does the truth hurt? And about the curtain hooks—I know what I’m talking about. My parents have exactly the ones I recommended. They’ve lasted two years and haven’t broken once. Yours will fall apart in a month. But if it’s so important for you to do everything your way—fine. It’s your choice.”
Alyona turned and went to the room. She began stuffing her things into a bag, moving quickly and decisively.
Irina Petrovna burst into the room right behind her.
“Where do you think you’re going?!”
“I’m moving out. I can’t stay here anymore.”
“That’s right!” her mother-in-law exclaimed triumphantly. “Showing your true face! First fight and you run away!”
Alyona turned to her.
“This isn’t the first fight, Irina Petrovna. You’ve picked at me every day since we moved in. Criticized everything I did. Insulted me. And my husband stayed silent and didn’t defend me. I’m tired of it.”
“Where are you going to go? You don’t have money to rent!”
“I’m going to my parents’. I’ll live with them until I find a way out.”
Irina Petrovna snorted with contempt.
“Then live with your parents! And Dima will find himself a normal wife who values family!”
“Let him,” Alyona replied coldly.
She zipped up her bag and walked out of the room. Dima was sitting in the kitchen with headphones on, watching something on a tablet. He didn’t even notice his wife leaving.
Alyona walked past him, threw on her jacket, and left the apartment. The door slammed behind her with a dull thud.
Outside, she stopped, took out her phone, and dialed her father.
“Dad, hi. Can I come to you? I need to stay with you for a while.”
“Of course, sweetheart. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later. I’m already on my way.”
Her parents welcomed Alyona without unnecessary questions. Her mother hugged her, her father took her bag and carried it to her old room. Over dinner Alyona told them everything—about Dima quitting, life at her mother-in-law’s, the constant nitpicking, and today’s blowup.
“I can’t live with them anymore,” she finished. “I’m sorry I dumped this on you, but—”
“Nonsense,” her mother took her hand. “You’re our daughter, and this is your home. Stay as long as you need.”
Her father nodded.
“Just one thing, Alyona. Think carefully about your marriage. A husband should protect his wife, not let his mother humiliate her.”
“I’ve already thought about it, Dad. I want a divorce.”
That evening Dima called. His voice was anxious.
“Lyon, where are you? Mom said you left!”
“I’m at my parents’.”
“Why did you leave?! Because of some stupid argument?”
“Stupid?” Alyona gave a bitter laugh. “Your mother called me a freeloader—when I’m the only one in our family earning money right now.”
“Mom got carried away, it happens. Come back—we’ll talk it out.”
“No. I’m not coming back to that house. Let’s meet tomorrow and talk.”
Dima agreed, and they arranged to meet near Alyona’s parents’ building.
The next day Alyona came downstairs exactly at the appointed time. Dima was already standing by the entrance, shifting from foot to foot. When he saw his wife, he stepped toward her.
“Lyon, I’m sorry. Sorry for everything. I talked to Mom—she won’t speak to you like that anymore. Let’s go back?”
“No, Dima. I’m not going back.”
He looked confused.
“But why? I apologized!”
“You apologized for your mother. What about for yourself?”
“For myself? What did I do?”
Alyona shook her head.
“You haven’t worked for two months. You let your mother humiliate me every day. You never once defended me. You behaved like a child, not a husband.”
“I’ll change! I promise! I’ll get a job, I’ll protect you…”
“Too late, Dima.”
Alyona slid her wedding ring off her finger and held it out to him. Dima stared at the ring, not understanding.
“What does that mean?”
“It means our marriage is over. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Lyon, you can’t do this! We just got married!”
“Exactly. Better to part now than suffer for years.”
Dima took the ring with trembling fingers. He looked at it, then at his wife.
“Don’t you want to give me a chance?”
“I gave you a chance every day. You didn’t use it.”
Alyona turned and went back into the building. Dima stayed standing outside with the ring in his palm.
A week later Alyona filed for divorce. Since they had no children and no shared property, the process promised to be quick. Dima didn’t object—apparently he understood his wife was serious.
Her parents supported their daughter in everything. Her mother cooked her favorite dishes, her father told jokes, trying to cheer her up. Alyona was grateful to them for their understanding and care.
A month later the divorce was finalized officially. A marriage that lasted only three months was over. Alyona received the divorce certificate and felt a strange relief, as if a heavy burden had fallen from her shoulders.
She returned to work after her vacation refreshed and rested. Her colleagues noted she looked better and calmer. Alyona smiled and didn’t go into details about her personal life.
After some time she rented a small studio not far from work. The place was modest, but it was hers. No one nitpicked, criticized, or controlled her every step.
Sometimes Alyona thought about Dima and Irina Petrovna. How were they living now? Had Dima found a job or was he still “searching for his calling”? But those thoughts didn’t hurt. Only a faint curiosity.
Once Marina asked if Alyona regretted the divorce.
“Not one bit,” she replied. “I’m glad I understood my mistake in time. Better three months of misery than years of an unhappy life.”
“You did the right thing,” Marina hugged her. “Not everyone is capable of taking that step.”
Alyona smiled. She really was proud of herself—proud that she found the strength to leave, that she didn’t endure humiliation for the sake of a fragile hope for something better, that she chose herself.
And it was the best decision of her life.
