“A pregnant wife is no reason to cancel my mother’s comfortable life,” the husband smirked.

“A pregnant wife is no reason to cancel my mother’s comfortable life,” the husband smirked.
Miroslava slowly placed her spoon beside her plate and raised her eyes to Artyom.
He was sitting opposite her — relaxed, confident that he was right. He did not even try to soften what he had said. As if he had just said something completely ordinary.
The sound of the television came from the next room. Her mother-in-law had clearly heard everything, but she was in no hurry to come out.
The kitchen became so quiet that Miroslava could hear the cooling metal of the kettle clicking.
She looked at her husband for several seconds, then carefully ran her hand over her belly and slowly exhaled.
“So, did I understand correctly?” she asked quietly. “Even during pregnancy, I’m not allowed to count on a normal life in my own home?”
Artyom shook his head irritably.
“Oh God, here we go again… You’re exaggerating everything.”
“Exaggerating?”
“Of course. Mom isn’t bothering anyone.”
From the room, her mother-in-law’s voice immediately rang out:
“I’m silent all the time, by the way.”
Miroslava briefly closed her eyes.
For the last three weeks, Lidia Pavlovna really had been living with them. Only “temporarily” had long ago turned into a full relocation.
At first, her mother-in-law had supposedly come for a medical examination.
Then it turned out that it was hard for her to travel across the whole city.
A couple of days later, she had already rearranged the food in the refrigerator “the convenient way.”
A week later, she started entering Miroslava and Artyom’s bedroom without knocking.
And then her robes, medicines, bags, slippers, and even a separate shelf in the bathroom suddenly appeared in the apartment.
And all of it happened so gradually that Artyom seemed to stop noticing the obvious.
But Miroslava noticed everything.
How her mother-in-law turned off the kitchen hood, saying:
“You’re wasting electricity again.”
How she moved things around in the kitchen.
How she opened the windows in November because she was “stuffy.”
How every evening she talked loudly on the phone right outside the bedroom door.
How she endlessly repeated:
“Pregnancy isn’t an illness. In our time, nobody danced around us.”
Miroslava endured it.
For a long time.
Because Artyom had once been different.
When they first met, he seemed like a calm and reliable man. Miroslava worked as a florist in a large flower shop, and Artyom installed climate-control systems. They met by chance — he had come to repair the air conditioner.
While his partner was fiddling with the tools, Artyom stood by the counter and smiled at Miroslava.
“It smells in here as if people aren’t buying flowers, but starting a new life.”
She laughed back then.
That was exactly what she had liked about him — his ease.
She felt calm with him.
No showing off.
No cheap pathos.
He did not pretend to be a hero, did not promise the impossible, did not play the perfect man.
He was simply there.
A year later, they registered their marriage.
Miroslava had received the apartment before the marriage from her grandmother. A small two-room apartment in a good district. Artyom moved in with her right after the wedding.

For the first few years, they lived peacefully.
Sometimes they argued over household trifles, but there were no serious conflicts.
Until Lidia Pavlovna became far too present in their lives.
Her mother-in-law had never truly liked Miroslava. She was not openly rude to her face, but she always spoke as if she were doing everyone an enormous favor simply by being there.
“My Artyom is too kind,” she liked to repeat. “He needed a softer woman.”
Or:
“Girls nowadays don’t know how to be wives. All they do is show their character.”
Artyom usually brushed it off.
“Don’t pay attention. Mom is just grumbling.”
Only that “grumbling” gradually became part of their life.
Lidia Pavlovna called her son ten times a day.
Asked him to come over.
To bring something.
To fix something.
To move something.
To buy something.
And Artyom went.
Always.
Even if they had plans.
Even if Miroslava asked him to stay.
And then it turned out that her mother-in-law had decided to sell her apartment.
“It’s hard for me to live alone,” she announced. “And the neighborhood has become bad.”
“And what happens next?” Miroslava asked cautiously at the time.
“I’ll stay with you for now.”
The word “for now” had sounded far too easy back then.
Now Miroslava understood — she should not have failed to insist on a conversation immediately.
Because Lidia Pavlovna moved in so confidently, as if she had always intended to stay forever.
She quickly occupied the living room.
Then she began giving orders.
Then she started complaining to Artyom.
“Miroslava is too nervous.”
“Miroslava walks too loudly.”
“Miroslava cooks the wrong way.”
“Miroslava is always lying down.”
In her fifth month of pregnancy, Miroslava really had begun to get tired more quickly.
In the mornings, she felt nauseous.
Her legs swelled.
Sometimes her lower back ached so badly that she only wanted to lie down and stay silent.
But Lidia Pavlovna looked at all of it with undisguised irritation.
“I worked in the fields while pregnant.”
“And nothing happened.”
“Nobody made concessions for me.”
One day, Miroslava could not take it anymore.
“Maybe that’s why things are so hard for you now?”
Her mother-in-law turned crimson then and demonstratively refused to speak to her for two days.
But that evening, Artyom caused a scandal.
“Why are you picking on my mother?”
“And she isn’t picking on me?”
“She’s older.”
“So what?”
“You could show some respect.”
Miroslava stared at her husband for a long time then.
It surprised her more and more how easily he justified his mother in every situation.
If his mother rummaged through the closets — “she wanted to help.”
If she criticized the food — “well, she has her habits.”
If she entered the bedroom without knocking — “what’s the big deal?”
As if boundaries existed only for Lidia Pavlovna.
That evening, after that very phrase about a pregnant wife, Miroslava barely slept.
Artyom fell asleep quickly.
The television kept flickering in the living room for a long time.
Her mother-in-law coughed, clattered with a mug, and talked to herself.
Miroslava lay facing the wall and stared into the darkness…
Continuation just below in the first comment.

“A pregnant wife is no reason to cancel my mother’s comfortable life,” the husband smirked.
Miroslava slowly placed her spoon beside her plate and raised her eyes to Artyom.
He was sitting opposite her — relaxed, certain that he was right. He did not even try to soften what he had said. As if he had just said something completely ordinary.
The sound of the television came from the next room. Her mother-in-law had clearly heard everything, but she was in no hurry to come out.
The kitchen became so quiet that Miroslava could hear the cooling metal of the kettle clicking.
She looked at her husband for several seconds, then carefully ran her hand over her belly and slowly exhaled.
“So, did I understand correctly?” she asked quietly. “Even during pregnancy, I can’t count on a normal life in my own home?”
Artyom shook his head irritably.
“Oh God, here we go again… You’re exaggerating everything.”
“Exaggerating?”
“Of course. Mom isn’t bothering anyone.”
From the room, her mother-in-law’s voice immediately rang out:
“I’m silent all the time, by the way.”
Miroslava briefly closed her eyes.
For the last three weeks, Lidia Pavlovna had indeed been living with them. Only “temporarily” had long ago turned into a full relocation.
At first, her mother-in-law had supposedly come for a medical checkup.
Then it turned out that it was difficult for her to travel across the entire city.
A couple of days later, she had already rearranged the food in the refrigerator “the convenient way.”
A week later, she started entering Miroslava and Artyom’s bedroom without knocking.
And then her robes, medicines, bags, slippers, and even a separate shelf in the bathroom suddenly appeared in the apartment.
And all of it happened so gradually that Artyom seemed to stop noticing the obvious.
But Miroslava noticed everything.
How her mother-in-law turned off the kitchen hood, saying:
“You’re wasting electricity again.”
How she moved things around in the kitchen.
How she opened the windows in November because she was “stuffy.”
How every evening she talked loudly on the phone right outside the bedroom door.
How she endlessly repeated:
“Pregnancy isn’t an illness. In our time, nobody danced around you.”
Miroslava endured it.
For a long time.
Because Artyom had once been different.
When they met, he seemed like a calm and reliable man. Miroslava worked as a florist in a large flower shop, and Artyom installed climate-control systems. They met by chance — he had come to repair the air conditioner.
While his partner was busy with the tools, Artyom stood by the counter and smiled at Miroslava.
“It smells in here as if people aren’t buying flowers, but starting a new life.”
She laughed back then.
That was exactly what she had liked about him — his lightness.
She felt calm with him.
No showing off.
No cheap theatrics.
He did not pretend to be a hero, did not promise the impossible, did not play the perfect man.
He was simply there.
A year later, they registered their marriage.
Miroslava had received the apartment from her grandmother before the marriage. It was a small two-room apartment in a good neighborhood. Artyom moved in with her right after the wedding.
For the first few years, they lived peacefully.
Sometimes they argued over household trifles, but there were no serious conflicts.
Until Lidia Pavlovna became far too present in their lives.
Her mother-in-law had never truly liked Miroslava. She was not openly rude to her face, but she always spoke as if she were doing everyone an enormous favor simply by being there.
“My Artyom is too kind,” she liked to repeat. “He needed a softer woman.”
Or:
“Girls nowadays don’t know how to be wives. All they do is show their character.”
Artyom usually brushed it off.
“Don’t pay attention. Mom is just grumbling.”
Only that “grumbling” gradually became part of their life.
Lidia Pavlovna called her son ten times a day.
Asked him to come over.
To bring something.
To fix something.
To move something.
To buy something.
And Artyom went.
Always.
Even if they had plans.
Even if Miroslava asked him to stay.
And then it turned out that her mother-in-law had decided to sell her apartment.
“It’s hard for me to live alone,” she announced. “And the neighborhood has become bad.”
“And what happens next?” Miroslava asked cautiously at the time.
“I’ll stay with you for now.”
The word “for now” had sounded far too casual back then.
Now Miroslava understood — she should have insisted on a serious conversation right away.
Because Lidia Pavlovna moved in so confidently, as if she had always planned to stay forever.
She quickly occupied the living room.
Then she started giving orders.
Then she started complaining to Artyom.
“Miroslava is too nervous.”
“Miroslava walks too loudly.”
“Miroslava cooks the wrong way.”
“Miroslava is always lying down.”
In her fifth month of pregnancy, Miroslava really had started getting tired more quickly.
In the mornings, she felt nauseous.
Her legs swelled.
Sometimes her lower back ached so badly that she simply wanted to lie down and stay silent.
But Lidia Pavlovna looked at all of it with undisguised irritation.
“I worked in the fields while pregnant.”
“And nothing happened.”
“Nobody made concessions for me.”
One day, Miroslava could not take it anymore.
“Maybe that’s why things are so hard for you now?”
Her mother-in-law turned crimson then and demonstratively refused to speak to her for two days.
But that evening, Artyom caused a scandal.
“Why are you picking on my mother?”
“And she isn’t picking on me?”
“She’s older.”
“So what?”
“You could show some respect.”
Miroslava stared at her husband for a long time then.
It surprised her more and more how easily he justified his mother in every situation.
If his mother rummaged through the closets — “she wanted to help.”
If she criticized the food — “well, she has her habits.”
If she entered the bedroom without knocking — “what’s the big deal?”
As if boundaries existed only for Lidia Pavlovna.
That evening, after that very phrase about a pregnant wife, Miroslava barely slept.
Artyom fell asleep quickly.
The television kept flickering in the living room for a long time.
Her mother-in-law coughed, clattered with a mug, and talked to herself.
Miroslava lay facing the wall and stared into the darkness.
Her belly tightened slightly from the stress.
She carefully placed her hand over the blanket.
“Everything is all right…” she whispered, barely audibly.
But nothing was all right.
The next day, Lidia Pavlovna woke up in a bad mood.
In the morning, she declared that Miroslava spent too long in the bathroom.
Then she inspected the kitchen with dissatisfaction.
And after lunch, she suddenly said:
“I’ve been thinking. When the baby is born, it would be better to put the crib in the living room.”
Miroslava slowly turned around.
“Why in the living room?”
“Because it’s hard for me to sleep at night with crying.”
“The living room is actually yours right now.”
“Well then, solve the issue.”
Miroslava looked at her mother-in-law for several seconds, then answered calmly:
“No.”
Lidia Pavlovna was even taken aback.
“What do you mean, no?”
“It means the child will live in the parents’ room. Not wherever it is convenient for you.”
Her mother-in-law sharply rose from the table.
“Artyom!”
He had just come out of the bathroom, wiping his hands with a towel.
“What now?”
“Your wife is already talking to me like I’m a stranger.”
Miroslava stood up.
“Because I’m tired of living like a stranger in my own apartment.”
Artyom irritably ran his hand over his face.
“Mira, you’re starting again…”
“I’m starting?!”
Her voice unexpectedly broke into a loud tone.
Her mother-in-law immediately folded her arms across her chest.
“There. Look how nervous she is. I told you.”
Miroslava sharply turned to her husband.
“Do you even understand what’s happening? Your mother is already deciding where our child will sleep!”
“Because she’s an elderly person!”
“And I’m a pregnant woman!”
“So what now? Should everyone tiptoe around you?”
Miroslava’s cheek twitched.
She looked at her husband as if she were seeing the real him for the first time.
Not caring.
Not calm.
But a man who had long ago chosen a side — he had simply been afraid to admit it out loud.
That evening, Miroslava called her friend Polina.
They sat in the car near the building for almost an hour.
Polina listened silently.
Only occasionally shaking her head.
“And how long is this supposed to continue?”
Miroslava tiredly rubbed her temples.
“I don’t know.”
“Whose apartment is it?”
“Mine.”
“Then why are you tolerating this sanatorium?”
Miroslava gave a nervous laugh.
“Because he’s my husband.”
“No, Mira. A husband is someone who protects you. Not someone who makes you feel unnecessary in your own home.”
That phrase stuck firmly in her mind.
A few days later, things got worse.
Lidia Pavlovna began entering the nursery, where Miroslava was gradually preparing a place for the baby.
She opened boxes.
Sorted through the clothes.
Criticized everything.
“Why do you need so many things?”
“Why such an expensive mattress?”
“The child will grow out of everything quickly anyway.”

And then one day, Miroslava entered the room and froze.
Her mother-in-law was putting the baby clothes into bags.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll give these undershirts to the neighbor. Her granddaughter was born.”
Miroslava quickly walked over and snatched the bag away.
“Don’t touch my child’s things.”
Lidia Pavlovna snorted.
“Oh, here we go.”
“I said don’t touch them.”
At that moment, Artyom entered the apartment.
Her mother-in-law immediately raised her voice:
“Artyom, do you hear how she’s talking to me?!”
Miroslava turned to her husband.
“Your mother is giving away our child’s things.”
“Oh God, who even needs them…”
“Artyom!”
He irritably threw his keys onto the small cabinet.
“Mira, enough with the hysterics.”
“I’m the one being hysterical?!”
Lidia Pavlovna immediately interfered:
“Pregnancy has completely ruined her head.”
Miroslava sharply walked to the room door and closed it in front of her mother-in-law.
Lidia Pavlovna gasped.
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
“I’m closing my child’s room.”
“Artyom!”
But instead of supporting her, he suddenly raised his voice:
“How much longer can this go on?!”
Miroslava slowly turned around.
And in that moment, something inside her finally snapped.
Not loudly.
Without screaming.
It simply disappeared.
She suddenly understood very clearly — from here on, things would only get worse.
After the child was born, her mother-in-law would not leave.
Artyom would not change.
And every day in this apartment, Miroslava would have to fight for the right to simply live in peace.
That night, Miroslava sat alone in the kitchen.
The light above the table was dim.
A drizzle fell outside the window.
Her mother-in-law’s snoring came from the room.
Artyom was asleep in the bedroom.
Miroslava slowly turned a mug of water in her hands.
Then she took out her phone.
And dialed a number.
“Hello?”
“Dad… Are you asleep?”
Her father immediately became alert.
“What happened?”
Miroslava’s voice trembled.
But she did not cry.
“I need help.”
The next day, her father arrived quickly.
Calm.
Silent.
He had always been exactly like that.
Lidia Pavlovna immediately hunched her shoulders and went into the living room.
Artyom came out into the hallway, wary.
“What’s going on?”
Miroslava’s father looked straight at him.
“What’s going on is that my daughter can no longer live in this madhouse.”
Artyom flared up.
“Are you serious right now?”
“More than serious.”
Miroslava stood beside him silently.
“Mira, did you blow everything out of proportion again?!”
She looked at her husband for a long moment.
“No. I kept silent for too long.”
Lidia Pavlovna immediately appeared in the hallway.
“Very interesting. Now she’s turning her relatives against us too.”
Miroslava’s father turned to her calmly.
“You’ve made yourself far too comfortable in someone else’s apartment.”
“Artyom brought me here!”
“And the apartment is not Artyom’s.”
Her mother-in-law jerked her chin.
“So you’re going to throw me out?”
For the first time in a long while, Miroslava answered immediately:
“Yes.”
Silence hung in the hallway.
Artyom even gave a short laugh from surprise.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“A pregnant woman decided to start a scandal?”
“No. A pregnant woman finally decided to protect her home.”
Lidia Pavlovna raised her voice:
“How are you not ashamed?!”
“And were you not ashamed to boss everyone around here?”
Her mother-in-law stepped forward.
“Artyom, do you hear this?!”
But he was already looking only at Miroslava.
“Are you kicking me out now?”
“I’m giving you a choice. Either we live separately from your mother. Or you leave together.”
“Mira…”
“No. Enough.”
She spoke quietly, but so firmly that even her father looked at her in surprise.
“I am no longer going to listen every morning to what I should do in my own apartment. I am not going to justify my pregnancy. I am not going to live with a man for whom his mother is more important than his family.”
Artyom sharply ran a hand through his hair.
“You’re making everything complicated.”
“No. You destroyed everything.”
Lidia Pavlovna threw up her hands.
“There she is! I said it from the beginning!”
Miroslava turned to her mother-in-law.
“And now listen to me. You are living here for the last day.”
“Who do you think you are?!”
“The owner of the apartment.”
Artyom gave a nervous laugh.
“And what? Will you call the police?”
“If necessary, I will.”
He clearly had not expected that answer.
Before, Miroslava gave in.
Smoothed things over.
Stayed silent.
Now a completely different woman stood before him.
An hour later, a real scandal began in the apartment.
Lidia Pavlovna slammed cabinet doors.
Indignantly complained.
Loudly appealed to her son.
Artyom walked through the rooms, angry and confused at the same time.
“Mira, you’ll regret this later.”
“No.”
“You’re destroying the family.”
“You destroyed the family the moment you decided that I could be silenced for the sake of your mother’s comfort.”
He fell silent.
Because there was nothing to say in response.
By evening, Miroslava’s father called a locksmith he knew.
Lidia Pavlovna turned pale.
“What are you doing?!”
“Changing the locks,” her father answered calmly.
“Artyom!”
But Artyom was already sitting silently in the kitchen.
With his shoulders lowered.
As if only now he understood that everything had gone too far.
When they began gathering their things, Lidia Pavlovna still tried to pressure her.
“You won’t manage alone with a child.”
Miroslava looked straight at her.
“But at least it will be quiet.”
Her mother-in-law grabbed her bag.
“Ungrateful.”
“No. Just tired of enduring it.”
Artyom was the last to approach.
He stood in the hallway for a long time.
Looking at Miroslava.
“You’re not even trying to save the marriage?”
She slowly shook her head.
“You were the one who should have been saving the marriage. When you allowed your mother to turn my home into her territory.”
He opened his mouth, but once again said nothing.
Because there were no excuses left.
When the door closed behind them, the apartment became unusually quiet.
So quiet that Miroslava simply stood in the middle of the hallway for several seconds, listening to that silence.
Then she slowly sat down on the bench.
Her father gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Is that it?”
She took a deep breath.
And for the first time in months, she was able to exhale normally.
“Now — that’s it.”