Ekaterina realized for the first time that she’d lost the steering wheel of her own life when she couldn’t even drink coffee peacefully in her own kitchen.
Olga Petrovna—her mother-in-law—had moved in “for just a couple of weeks” while the pipes in her apartment were supposedly “being repaired.” But now it was the third month, and she was settling in like she’d come home for good. Her belongings were everywhere. Her pills. Her slippers. And above all—her opinions. In every corner.
Katya came back from work feeling like she’d finished hard labor, only to be thrown straight into a second shift.
“You brought that… that store sausage again?” Olga Petrovna would drawl with disgust. “Do you even know what’s in it? Cellulose and a touch of an old mop! And Dima—what is he supposed to eat, your chemicals?”
“I actually work, Olga Petrovna,” Katya would answer. “I don’t spend the whole day on the couch watching TV series.”
“And who asked you to?” the older woman snapped. “At least bring your paycheck into the house instead of wasting money on discount skirts! Dmitry is carrying everything alone, my poor boy…”
That “poor boy” was snoring peacefully in the bedroom. And Katya—the owner of the apartment, bought before marriage with her own money—felt like a tenant in her own home.
Late that night she tried to talk to her husband.
“Dima, we need to talk. About your mother.”
“Don’t start,” he sighed, eyes still glued to the screen. “She’s an old woman.”
“And I’m having an easy time?” Katya shot back.
“Well, you’re young. Strong. What, you can’t handle one grandma?”
“She goes through my things every day—does that seem normal to you? And when she called me ‘a brainless housekeeper’—did you hear that?”
“Katya, you take everything too personally,” he said. “You need to be wiser.”
“I’m not in a monastery to be ‘wiser’!” she snapped. “This is my home, Dima. MINE. And in it I feel like a maid!”
He shrugged. Conversation over.
Katya stepped onto the balcony and lit a cigarette.
Why am I—the owner—supposed to leave? Why not them? she thought.
The next day she did something no one expected from her.
She bought a safe, put it in the bedroom, and locked away every document and valuable she had. Then she calmly told her mother-in-law:
“Olga Petrovna, starting tomorrow you’ll be looking for a place to live. You have one week. After that, I’m changing the locks.”
“Have you gone insane?!” the older woman screamed.
“No,” Katya said evenly. “I’m just done. This is my home.”
In the morning the apartment was filled with a tense, brittle silence.
“And how exactly do you imagine this?” her mother-in-law asked, her voice icy. “You want to throw me out? ME?”
“I don’t want to,” Katya replied. “But I have to. You’re living in my home. I never invited you to move in.”
Dmitry walked into the kitchen.
“Katya… this is too much,” he muttered. “She cried all night.”
“Dima. If you don’t say something sensible right now, I’m filing for divorce.”
“You… you’re serious?”
“Did you think I was joking? I don’t want to be a nanny to you and your mother.”
“So what do you want? For me to kick my mom out?”
“No,” Katya said. “I want you to understand—on your own—where your family is. And I want you to choose, on your own.”
He stayed silent. Then he grabbed his jacket and left.
They didn’t speak for four days.
On the fifth, Dima showed up.
“Katya, can we talk? I’ve been thinking. I never wanted it to be like this. I’m just used to her always being there, giving orders. And you… you’re strong. I figured you’d manage.”
“Of course I’m strong,” Katya said with a tired, bitter smile.
“I’ll rent her an apartment,” he continued. “I already found one. I’ll help her move. And… if you don’t mind… I’d like to stay. I see how much you suffered. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
She hugged him, but there was no warmth in it.
“Dima,” she said quietly. “You’re not ready. Not for a family, not for adult life. I’m thirty-nine. I can’t keep teaching someone how to grow up.”
“Can I at least sleep on the couch for now? Give me a chance to end this like a decent person.”
She nodded.
A week later Olga Petrovna moved out. Dmitry slept on the couch. They barely spoke.
On the ninth day he said, “That’s it. She’s settled in. And I’m leaving too. Thank you for not throwing me out right away.”
“I’m not cruel,” Katya replied. “I’m just tired of being alone while there are two people right next to me.”
“If you change your mind—call,” he said. “If you don’t, I’ll understand.”
“Dima…” She caught his hand. “If it weren’t for your mother… would we still be together?”
“We would’ve fallen apart anyway,” he said softly. “It just would’ve taken longer.”
He left. Katya stayed. And for the first time in years, she felt her life belonged to her again.
A month passed.
Katya lived in silence and cleanliness. One day her phone rang.
Dmitry.
“Hi. I need to talk to you about… Mom’s apartment.”
“What apartment?”
“She wrote a will. Everything goes to me. But she said I should’ve made decisions myself instead of dumping everything on you. Katya… I want to give you that apartment.”
“What?”
“We bought it after we got married. The down payment came from selling yours, plus the mortgage. I haven’t forgotten. Just take it. I’ll sign it over to you.”
“Wait… you’re apologizing with real estate?”
“No. I’m just trying to close the book. Fairly.”
A week later they met at the public services office. No hugs. No nostalgia. Just two people who used to be husband and wife, signing documents.
“By the way,” he added afterward, “I’m getting married again. In a month.”
“That was fast,” Katya smirked. “You always managed to remarry quickly. Growing up, though—you never managed that. Dima, I hope you find a woman without an apartment. Maybe then you’ll love her for more than square meters.”
She walked away without turning around.
She rented out the apartment, and a year later she sold it and bought a house outside Moscow. Her own. No mother-in-laws. No Dmitry. No humiliation measured in square inches.
For the housewarming, she invited only her friends.
One of them said, “You know… you look lighter. Like you dropped an entire family off your shoulders.”
Katya laughed.
“That’s exactly what I did.”
