Valeria kicked off her heels at the doorway and stretched, trying to loosen the knots in her body. The workday had drained her to the bone. From the kitchen came the mouthwatering scent of meat searing in a pan. She smiled despite herself—Misha was cooking again.
“I’m home!” she called, heading to the bedroom to change.
“Hi, love!” her husband answered. “Perfect timing—I just finished with the meat.”
That was when Valeria noticed a woman’s handbag sitting on the hallway table. Her heart gave a sharp little drop. Nina Petrovna—her mother-in-law—had shown up again without warning.
“Is your mom here?” Valeria asked, her voice noticeably quieter.
“Yeah, she just stopped by to bring some groceries,” Misha said breezily, stirring something in the skillet.
Valeria pulled on an old T-shirt and shorts. A part of her wanted to hide in the bedroom forever. But she gathered herself and went to the kitchen.
“Good evening, Nina Petrovna,” she greeted her with manufactured cheer.
Her mother-in-law sat at the table, spine straight as a rod. Her eyes skimmed over Valeria’s figure; her lips tightened.
“Well, the hostess finally decided to grace us with her presence,” Nina Petrovna said, taking a sip of tea. “Mishenka has been home for an hour.”
“I had a demanding project today,” Valeria replied, making her voice as calm as she could.
“Of course, of course—work comes first,” Nina Petrovna said, rolling her eyes. “Meanwhile your husband comes home hungry, and his wife isn’t even here.”
Misha set a plate of fragrant beef and rice in front of Valeria.
“Mom, stop it—I’m not a little kid,” he said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I can cook for myself.”
“Oh, Mishenka,” Nina Petrovna fluttered her hands. “That’s not the point! A woman is supposed to create comfort in the home.”
Valeria stabbed her fork into the meat so hard the plate gave a sharp little clink.
“I create comfort in my own ways,” she said. “And Misha seems to like it.”
“And what’s all this mess in the hallway?” her mother-in-law pivoted. “Boxes lying around.”
“I was clearing out the closet yesterday,” Valeria shrugged. “I’ll finish it today.”
“Two years married and you still live like this,” Nina Petrovna shook her head. “And still no children.”
Misha choked on his water.
“Mom!” His face flushed.
“What?” Nina Petrovna spread her hands. “The clock is ticking. By your age, I already had two.”
Valeria pushed her plate away. Her appetite vanished.
“Misha and I will decide when we want kids,” she said, meeting Nina Petrovna’s stare. “That’s our business.”
“Of course, of course,” her mother-in-law cooed with a sugary smile. “It’s just that your job doesn’t exactly help. You’re gone all day—how are you supposed to have children like that?”
“Nina Petrovna,” Valeria said, curling her fists under the table, “can we talk about something else?”
“Mom brought us a pie,” Misha cut in quickly. “Let’s have tea.”
“Raspberry—your favorite,” Nina Petrovna said, patting her son’s hand. “And I rolled some cutlets too—put them in your freezer.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Misha smiled. “But we manage fine.”
“Sure—especially when your wife comes home at ten at night,” Nina Petrovna snorted.
Valeria stood up.
“I’m going to finish sorting the things,” she said, leaving the kitchen fast—before she said something she couldn’t take back.
“See, Misha?” her mother-in-law’s voice carried after her. “She doesn’t even want to be with us. Modern women have no idea how to keep a home.”
Valeria closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Another evening with her mother-in-law had turned into torture. Would there ever be a day when Nina Petrovna stopped forcing her way into their lives?
But Nina Petrovna kept appearing with enviable regularity. Every visit became a new trial for Valeria.
“My girl, do you ever dust at all?” Nina Petrovna said one day, running a finger along the living-room shelf. “Look—Mishenka could get sick from this filth.”
Valeria clenched her teeth and counted to ten.
“I dust every weekend, Nina Petrovna,” she said, forcing herself to stay even. “It’s just the end of the week.”
“In my day, women walked around with a rag every single day,” her mother-in-law replied, shaking her head. “Only on weekends, huh?”
“I have a job,” Valeria said, turning away so Nina Petrovna wouldn’t see her burning cheeks.
Misha walked in holding a tablet. He looked excited, practically glowing.
“Valeria! Mom! I’ve decided what I’m going to do!” He dropped onto the couch between them. “Remember my idea about an online spice store?”
“Of course, son,” Nina Petrovna said at once, shifting all her attention to him. “Wonderful idea.”
“I did the numbers,” Misha said, turning the screen toward them. “Here’s the business plan. The initial investment pays back in six months.”
Valeria scanned the figures. The amount was substantial.
“Where are you going to get that kind of money?” she frowned. “Our savings won’t cover it.”
“We’ll take a loan,” Misha shrugged like it was pocket change. “The terms are fine right now—I checked.”
“Good job, son!” Nina Petrovna patted his shoulder. “A real man. Starting his own business.”
“A loan is serious, Mish,” Valeria tried to cool his enthusiasm. “We need to think everything through.”
“It’s already thought through!” Misha tapped the screen. “Look—I laid out a detailed month-by-month plan.”
Nina Petrovna shot Valeria a pointed look.
“Don’t stand in the boy’s way,” her voice turned icy. “A wife’s real duty is to support her husband.”
Arguing was useless. A week later, they were at the bank signing the loan agreement. Misha was energized, eyes bright with excitement.
“Lera, there’s one more thing,” he said, handing her a pen and a sheet of paper. “Sign this power of attorney so I can handle all the legal details myself.”
“Why?” Valeria frowned, reading the document.
“So I don’t have to pull you away from work for every little thing,” Misha said with a smile. “You’re always busy.”
Valeria sighed and signed. Something in her resisted the decision, but she pushed the doubt aside.
At first, Misha’s business started to move—slowly. He spent all day at the computer, calling suppliers, placing orders, managing accounts. Nina Petrovna began showing up even more often.
“Mishenka needs support,” she announced to Valeria. “Someone has to keep an eye on him, make sure he eats on time.”
Valeria only nodded. It felt like her mother-in-law saw her as a rival, not as her son’s wife.
“You know, Valeria,” Nina Petrovna said one day, stirring soup on their stove, “a good wife has a baby in the first years of marriage. It strengthens the family.”
“We’re strong enough without that,” Valeria snapped.
“For now,” Nina Petrovna lifted an eyebrow with meaning. “But men are like children—they need a home full of life. And if a wife can’t provide it, then the mother has to step in!”
Valeria didn’t reply. Her mother-in-law was driving a wedge between her and her husband.
One evening Valeria came home later than usual. What she saw stopped her cold. Suitcases stood in the hallway. From the kitchen came the clatter of dishes and Nina Petrovna’s voice, humming some tune.
Valeria froze in the doorway.
“What’s going on? Whose things are these?”
Misha peeked out from the living room with a guilty smile.
“Lera… those are Mom’s things,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “She’s having problems with her rental.”
Valeria went icy.
“And what does that mean?” she asked, keeping her voice low so Nina Petrovna wouldn’t hear.
“My rent went up. I can’t afford it alone anymore. So I’ll be living here now,” Nina Petrovna declared boldly.
“We registered Mom at your apartment—you don’t mind, do you?” Misha looked at her with puppy eyes. “She can’t rent anymore. It’s hard for her.”
Valeria went rigid. Blood pounded in her temples. She looked from her husband to the suitcases, hardly believing what she’d heard.
“What do you mean ‘registered’?” Valeria’s voice shot up. “Without telling me?”
Nina Petrovna nodded.
“And what’s the problem?” she smiled. “Family sticks together.”
“Misha,” Valeria turned to her husband, “did you do this using the power of attorney? That one?”
Misha dropped his eyes.
“Lera, Mom’s in a tough spot. She’s being forced out. She needed registration.”
“This doesn’t concern you, girl,” Nina Petrovna cut in. “Mishenka and I decided.”
Valeria drew a long breath.
“I need to calm down,” she said, walking into the bedroom and slamming the door.
With shaking hands, Valeria called her friend Lena, a lawyer. After hearing the story, Lena gasped.
“Valeria—revoke that power of attorney immediately! He could’ve taken out the loan in your name too!”
Something inside Valeria collapsed. She ended the call and walked into the living room. Nina Petrovna was already hanging her photos on the wall.
“Mish, we need to talk,” Valeria said firmly. “Alone.”
“What are you hiding from me?” Nina Petrovna bristled. “I live here now too!”
“Mom, give us a minute,” Misha said, clearly rattled.
When Nina Petrovna stalked off to the kitchen, Valeria looked her husband straight in the eye.
“Did you take out the loan in my name?”
Misha flinched.
“Why would you think that?”
“Answer me,” Valeria’s voice turned to steel.
“Well… there was a small loan,” Misha looked away. “Mom had debt tied to her apartment. We had to pay it off.”
Valeria sucked in a breath, furious.
“Small? How much?”
“One and a half million,” Misha said, nearly whispering.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Valeria shouted. “Without telling me? How dare you!”
Nina Petrovna rushed in at the sound.
“Don’t you raise your voice at my son!” she snapped, stepping between them. “He does everything for the family!”
“For the family?” Valeria laughed—sharp and bitter. “He borrowed money. He registered you in my apartment!”
“And?” Nina Petrovna scoffed. “He helped his mother, like a good son.”
“And me?” Valeria looked at Misha. “Did you think about me at all?”
Misha looked lost.
“Lera… I thought you’d understand…”
“Get out. Both of you,” Valeria said, grabbing Nina Petrovna’s bag and throwing it toward the door. “Now.”
“You can’t throw us out!” Nina Petrovna shouted. “I’m registered here!”
“Temporarily,” Valeria’s eyes flashed. “Tomorrow I’m filing in court.”
“Lera, let’s talk about this…” Misha began.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Valeria cut him off. “Start packing. You have an hour.”
Nina Petrovna’s face turned purple.
“You’ll regret this! Mishenka and I have always been one family. And you—you’re nobody!”
“I’m his wife!” Valeria cried.
“Not for long,” Nina Petrovna smirked. “Women like you can’t keep a family together.”
Misha stood between them, helplessly darting his eyes from his mother to his wife.
“Choose, Misha,” Valeria said coldly. “Right now. Me or her.”
“You’re making him choose between his wife and his mother?” Nina Petrovna shrieked. “What an egoist!”
Misha said nothing. That silence spoke louder than any words.
“Got it,” Valeria said with a bitter half-smile. “Get out. Both of you.”
Three months later, the court annulled Nina Petrovna’s registration. A month after that, Valeria divorced Misha. It wasn’t easy to prove the loan had been taken out without her knowledge, but with Lena’s help she managed to reduce the amount.
Nina Petrovna called almost every day—crying one minute, threatening the next.
“Misha is living with me in my one-room apartment!” she screamed into the phone. “You ruined his life! He lost his business because of you!”
Valeria simply hung up.
One evening she ran into her ex near the building. Misha looked rumpled and exhausted.
“Lera… can we talk?” he said, reaching for her hand.
“About what?” Valeria stepped back.
“You’re so cold,” Misha shook his head. “After two years together, is there really nothing left?”
“There is,” Valeria nodded. “Your loan. And a lesson I’ll carry for life.”
She walked past him without looking back. Valeria was finally free—from Misha, from his mother, and from their manipulation. She might have to tighten her belt for a couple of years to pay the debt down.
But now she got to decide how she would live.
And that was worth every single penny.
