You have to take my mother in!” my husband said. But I drew the line—and closed the door on both of them.

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 […]

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— “You’re a burden to us!” my mother-in-law said, and started counting the slippers. And I stepped out onto the landing with relief.

Four pairs for three people. There’s an extra pair in this house!” Galina Petrovna demonstratively recounted the slippers in the entryway, bending her fingers as she went. An extra pair? I stepped out onto the landing with relief. Strangely enough, something that felt like joy spread through my chest. For seven years I’d waited to […]

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— You’re not my mother, so stop coming to our home all the time and trying to teach me how to live! If you show up here one more time, my husband won’t have a mother anymore! Do you understand me?

— “Dusty, Darina. I taught you that you need to start cleaning from the top down. First wipe the cabinets, then the shelves, and only then do the floor.” Galina Viktorovna’s voice—level and devoid of emotion—cut through the silence of the entryway. Her index finger, crowned with an impeccable manicure, slowly drew a line across […]

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— “I’m not your relative, not your daughter, and certainly not your wallet! My apartment is my property, and your nervous outbursts are something for a specialist—not for me!”

Marina’s kitchen was exactly the kind every woman over thirty dreams of: spacious, spotless, the tiles gleaming, a tablecloth on the table—not stained with borscht—and food in the fridge that you wouldn’t be ashamed to serve even your mother-in-law. Though, of course, for Tatyana Petrovna you could serve it on a golden tray and she’d […]

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I don’t owe anything to your mother or your sister! So they can roll back that lip of theirs and stay out of my pocket! I’m not giving them a single kopeck.

— Olya, you have to understand—we’re not strangers. Stasik wouldn’t approve if he found out you’re treating us like this, Anna Petrovna’s voice—oily and syrup-slow—filled the whole kitchen. She sat at the table Olya had polished to a shine just an hour earlier and acted as if she’d been the one to choose the furniture […]

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