After moving in with her husband, the wife realized that her mother-in-law would not let her live in peace—and decided it was time to teach her a lesson.
Irina was dragging the last suitcase. Forty years old, yet she felt like a student again. Instead of freedom—anxiety. Kolya was waiting.
“Finally, Irina!” he said. “Mom has already set the table.”
Raisa Pavlovna met them at the doorstep. Strict, tall. Her gaze swept over Irina and stopped at the suitcase.
“Again this racket, Kolya. Irina, what is this bag? We agreed—only the essentials.”
Irina exhaled. Agreed? No. Her favorite knitted blanket was, in fact, “the essential.”
“Hello, Raisa Pavlovna,” Irina said. “This is my blanket. For winter.”
“Winter,” Raisa Pavlovna repeated. “Kolya, show your wife where her things go. And tell her the dishes must be washed immediately.”
Irina froze. She had just come in. She hadn’t even taken off her shoes. “She hasn’t changed at all?!” flashed through her mind.
Kolya coughed awkwardly.
“Mom, come on. We just arrived.”
“I’m just saying it like it is, son. Order is the most important thing. Irina, there’s soup on the table. I cooked it. Learn how to make it just as tasty.”
Irina was stunned. Her soups! They were excellent—at least according to Kolya.
“I… I ate on the way,” she replied, though her stomach was twisting from hunger.
Kolya took her by the hand.
“Come on, Irina. You need to rest.”
They went into their room. It smelled of mothballs.
“Mom made the bed,” Kolya explained. “She tried.”
Irina looked at him. There was pleading in his voice.
“Kolya,” she began. “Is this our home now? Ours?”
He sighed.
“Of course I remember. It’s just… Mom is used to things.”
Used to them? Or used to being in charge?
“Irina,” Raisa Pavlovna called from the hallway. “Are you going to wash your laundry right away? I’ll show you my machine. There’s one setting for colors and another for whites. Otherwise you’ll ruin everything.”
Irina felt her temples throbbing. She was an adult. She had washed clothes her whole life.
“Raisa Pavlovna, I can handle it myself,” she said, her voice sounding too sharp.
Kolya grabbed her elbow.
“Irina, quieter. Don’t.”
Don’t? What should she do instead? Nod? Smile?
“Kolya,” Irina said, looking him in the eyes. “I feel like I’m just a guest here.”
He turned away.
“Why are you saying that? She’s trying.”
Trying? To turn me into a child? The world didn’t collapse—it simply swayed hard.
At dinner, which Raisa Pavlovna insistently encouraged them to eat, a new attack began.
“Kolya, remember how you didn’t like pea soup as a child? And Irina doesn’t seem to enjoy it either,” she said, her eyes fixed on Irina’s plate. “It seems your tastes are completely different.”
Irina barely restrained herself. Why was she staring so intensely?
“I like pea soup, Raisa Pavlovna,” Irina said. “I’m just not very hungry.”
“Well, sure,” Raisa Pavlovna snorted. “I just wonder how you two will live together if your tastes in food are already so different.”
Kolya tried to break the tension.
“Mom, stop it. We’re fine.”
“Fine?” Raisa Pavlovna raised an eyebrow. “Irina, do you even know how to iron? My Kolya always wore perfectly ironed shirts. And you…”
Irina felt her face burning. Was she supposed to be helpless?
“Raisa Pavlovna, I iron my own clothes. And Kolya’s too. And I know how to do it well,” Irina said, trying to keep her voice calm.
But calm was nowhere to be found. Inside, everything was boiling. Where was her Kolya—the one who supported her? He sat silently, eating soup.
“Kolya,” she almost whispered. “Do you hear me?”
He looked up.
“What, Irina?”
“Nothing, Kolya. Nothing.”
Her husband. Sitting silently.
Raisa Pavlovna smiled with satisfaction.
“That’s right. That’s how it should be.”
How she wanted it—that’s how everything should be.
Irina looked at Kolya. He didn’t see. Or didn’t want to see.
How was she supposed to live here now? This wasn’t a home. It was a prison…
Raisa Pavlovna would not let up. Every day brought a new “piece of advice.”
“Irina, did you iron Kolya’s shirt? Look how he went to work. All wrinkled.”
“He ironed it himself, Raisa Pavlovna,” Irina replied.
“Oh? Looked like he didn’t iron it at all.”
Kolya stayed silent. Pretending he didn’t hear. Morning, evening, at the table.
Once, Irina was on the phone with her friend Lena.
“Lena, I’m in shock. She comments on everything. How Kolya eats, how he sleeps…”
“Irina, who are you chatting with?” Raisa Pavlovna walked in without knocking. “What are these conversations? Don’t distract me from watching TV.”
Irina jumped.
“Raisa Pavlovna, I’m in my own room.”
“Your own?” The mother-in-law smirked. “Everything here is ours.”
The call cut off. Lena had heard everything.
Their neighbor, Aunt Valya, ran into Irina at the entrance.
“Irochka, I heard you don’t cook for Kolya at all? Raisa Pavlovna says he walks around hungry.”
Irina nearly collapsed. Hungry? She cooked every day!
“What?” Irina croaked. “I…”
“Well, I don’t know,” Aunt Valya shrugged. “That’s what she said.”
Irina went home. Boiling. She went to Kolya. He was in the living room, watching the news.
“Kolya, your mother is telling the neighbors I don’t cook. What is that?”
Kolya waved it off.
“Oh, Mom… she just says things. Don’t pay attention.”
“Don’t pay attention? She’s shaming me!”
“Oh stop. So she said something. Big deal.”
Big deal?! Irina stared at him, tears forming. Did he really not understand anything?
“That’s it,” Irina decided. “Enough.”
The next day she went to the store. Bought a new lock. For the door to their room. In the evening, while Raisa Pavlovna was watching her show, Irina replaced it.
Kolya walked in.
“Irina, what are you doing?”
“Installing a lock. This is our room. We have a right to privacy.”
“Why? Mom will be upset.”
“Let her.”
Raisa Pavlovna noticed the lock in the morning.
“Kolya! What is this?! Why?!”
“Mom, we just… it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?! I know these ‘nothing’! Irina, what are you doing here?! This is my house!”
“Raisa Pavlovna, this is our house. Kolya’s house. And I’m his wife.”
Her mother-in-law stared at her. Furious.
Then Irina began her “antics.” Raisa Pavlovna disliked bright curtains. Irina bought the brightest, most orange ones, and hung them in their room. Kolya watched.
“Irina, maybe calm down a bit?”
“No, Kolya. This is how it will be now.”
Raisa Pavlovna came in, saw them.
“What is this monstrosity?! Is this a clown room?!”
“These are our curtains, Raisa Pavlovna. We like them.”
Irina started brewing coffee in the mornings. Raisa Pavlovna drank only tea. Irina used the grinder loudly. Raisa Pavlovna winced.
“Irina, what is that noise?!”
“Coffee, Raisa Pavlovna. I like coffee.”
Small changes, but noticeable ones. Irina felt a bit better. But the tension grew. Every day—a battle. Kolya ran between them. He saw everything. But did nothing.
“Is it going to be like this forever?” Irina wondered. “Am I living on a battlefield?”
Guests came. Raisa Pavlovna beamed. Irina set the table.
“Irina, how did you make this salad?” the mother-in-law asked, addressing the guests. “You have to slice cucumbers very thin. My knife isn’t the right one for that, and Irina didn’t bother sharpening it.”
Irina froze. The knife. Was she supposed to sharpen her knife too? Kolya squirmed.
“Mom, come on.”
“What? I’m just being honest. And this pie…” Raisa Pavlovna lifted a piece. “Well, it’s certainly not mine. My dough is always fluffy.”
The guests exchanged looks. Irina felt herself blushing. This was the moment. Irina lowered her head. Shame. Then—rage. Too much. Were they here to humiliate her?
“Raisa Pavlovna,” Irina said, her voice trembling. “I baked the pie. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.”
The mother-in-law gasped. Silence fell. Kolya lowered his eyes.
“What is this?” hissed Raisa Pavlovna. “Rudeness? You’re in my house…”
“This is our house!” Irina shouted. She stood up. “Or is it not? Kolya!”
He looked up. Empty.
“Irina, what are you doing? Don’t ruin the evening.”
“Ruin it? The evening was ruined long ago. Long.”
Irina looked at Raisa Pavlovna.
“You humiliate me here. Every day. In front of neighbors, now in front of guests. Why? What did I do to you?”
“I don’t wish you anything bad,” the mother-in-law said, her face pale. “I’m just teaching you how to do things properly.”
“Teaching?” Irina laughed. Bitterly. “People should be taught how to respect others.”
She turned and walked toward the door.
“Irina, where are you going?” Kolya shouted.
“I won’t stay here,” she said.
He ran after her.
“Irina, please. What are you doing?”
“Me? I’m doing what I should have done long ago.” She looked at him. “I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t life. It’s torture.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Kolya said.
“Exaggerate?” Irina narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Then choose. Either we leave. Today. To a rented apartment. Or I leave. Alone. And forever.”
Kolya froze. His eyes widened.
“What are you saying?”
“What you heard. I’m tired. I don’t want to live like this. I want my own home. My own space. Without orders. Without humiliation. Without your mother.”
“Don’t talk about my mom like that!” he flushed.
“I’m calling things what they are. Do you want me to leave? Say it.”
“No!” He grabbed her hands. “No, Irina!”
“Then what? What should I do?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“You do know, Kolya. You know. Choose. Either me, or your mother. The two of us can’t live together here. Never.”
Raisa Pavlovna appeared in the hallway. She’d been listening.
“Son! Are you really falling for her tricks?”
“Mom, please,” Kolya pulled his hands away. “Not now.”
“Now! I heard everything! She’s blackmailing you!”
Irina looked at Kolya. His face was confused. His eyes darted around.
“I’m waiting, Kolya.”
He looked at Irina, then at his mother.
“Irina, well… why so suddenly?”
“Suddenly, Kolya? I have only one option. And you?”
Raisa Pavlovna waited. The guests sat in silence. Kolya exhaled heavily.
“All right, Irina. We’ll go.”
Raisa Pavlovna screamed.
“Where?! Son! Have you lost your mind?!”
“Mom,” Kolya’s voice was low. “We have to.”
Irina felt the tension melt away. She hugged Kolya. He hugged her tightly.
“We’re packing now,” Irina said. “Kolya, go get ready.”
“Why?” Kolya looked confused.
“Why? To start a new life.”
Kolya nodded. He took her hand. They went to their room. Raisa Pavlovna stood in the middle of the living room. The guests started saying goodbye. Awkwardly.
Irina packed fast. Kolya helped. He said nothing. Just packed. His movements were firm.
“Irina, I’ll call Sasha. He knows about a place. It’s available.”
“Call him,” Irina said.
Sasha, Kolya’s friend, responded quickly. Within an hour they had an address. A rental apartment. Small, but theirs.
They called a taxi. Raisa Pavlovna came to the hallway. Her eyes were red.
“Well then. Go. Forget me.”
Kolya went to her and hugged her.
“Mom, I’ll call. I’ll visit.”
“No need. You chose her. So live with her.”
Irina felt bitterness. But she knew—it had to be done. She got into the taxi. Kolya followed.
The first days were hard. Getting used to things. To the silence. To no one telling them what to do.
“Kolya,” Irina said one evening. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Irina. Just… unusual. But… good. Really good.”
Irina smiled.
Raisa Pavlovna called Kolya rarely. Once a week. Short. Asked about work. Never about Irina.
Irina walked around the apartment. Their own. Turned the music up loud. Cooked her soup. Pea soup. Very tasty. Kolya ate it with pleasure.
A month later, Kolya visited his mother. Alone. She met him at the door.
“Why did you come?”
“Mom, I missed you.”
She said nothing. Let him in. They sat in the kitchen.
“How are you two?” she asked.
Kolya sighed.
“We’re fine, Mom. Good.”
“Good, then.” She turned to the window. “It’s lonely here by myself.”
Kolya looked at her.
“Mom, come visit us. As a guest.”
She turned. Something like hope flickered in her eyes.
“I’ll think about it.”
Irina found out that evening.
“She’s going to visit?” Irina asked.
“Maybe. I told her she’s always welcome. But it’s our home, Irina. Ours.”
Irina looked at him. For the first time in a long while, there was no pleading in his eyes. There was certainty.
“Yes, Kolya. Ours.”
She knew. The boundaries had been set. Maybe not right away, but they had built them. Their home. Their family. Their rules.
And Raisa Pavlovna was now a guest.
At last.
