Nonna froze with a plate in her hands. Ruslan had said the words casually, scrolling through the news feed on his phone. They had been living in his apartment for the third year since their wedding. It was a three-room apartment in a new building, which Ruslan had bought before he even met her. Nonna worked as an editor at a children’s book publishing house, while Ruslan sold auto parts—he had his own small shop.
“When is she coming?” Nonna set the plate on the table.
“In a week. She needs treatment at our city clinic. The doctors here are better than in her village.”
“For how long?”
“Two or three months, maybe longer. You know how it is with treatment.” Ruslan did not even look up from the screen.
Nonna nodded silently. Valentina Petrovna, Ruslan’s mother, was a domineering and categorical woman. Every time they met, she found a reason to criticize her daughter-in-law: the borscht was not thick enough, her husband’s shirts were not starched well enough, there was dust on the top shelf of the wardrobe.
“All right,” Nonna exhaled. “I’ll prepare the guest room.”
“Great. Mom will be happy.”
The following week, Nonna prepared for her mother-in-law’s visit. She washed all the windows, laundered the curtains, and bought new bed linen. The refrigerator filled with Valentina Petrovna’s favorite foods—cottage cheese of a specific brand, black bread with caraway seeds, and gooseberry jam.
On the day of her arrival, Nonna baked her mother-in-law’s favorite cabbage pie and prepared a three-course lunch. Ruslan went to meet his mother at the train station.
The door opened two hours later.
“Bring the things in here!” Ruslan’s voice rang out from the hallway.
Nonna came out to greet the guests and froze. Next to Valentina Petrovna stood another woman of about sixty, an exact copy of her mother-in-law, only slightly younger.
“Meet Aunt Zina, Nonna. Mom’s sister. She came for treatment too,” Ruslan said, dragging huge bags into the hallway.
“But…” Nonna began.
“But what?” Valentina Petrovna entered the apartment, looking around critically. “The apartment is big. There’s enough room for everyone. Zinochka will stay with me in the guest room.”
“Oh, how lovely!” Zinaida Petrovna exclaimed, examining the furnishings. “Ruslanchik, well done, what a nice apartment you grabbed! And what’s that painting? Ugh, how tasteless! Did you choose that?” she turned to Nonna.
“It was a wedding gift from my parents,” Nonna answered quietly.
“Well, parents are parents, but one should have taste of one’s own!” Zinaida laughed.
For the first week, Nonna held on. She got up at six in the morning to make breakfast for four. Valentina Petrovna demanded hot porridge, Zinaida wanted fried eggs with bacon, and Ruslan was used to sandwiches with coffee.
“Nonna, this coffee tastes like dishwater again!” Valentina Petrovna declared on the third day. “How many times do I have to tell you? It needs to be brewed stronger!”
“And the porridge is lumpy today,” Zinaida chimed in. “Is it really so hard to stir it properly?”
Ruslan remained silent, buried in his phone.
After work, Nonna stopped by the store for groceries. The list from her mother-in-law and her sister took up an entire page. A special kind of cheese, specific yogurts, meat only from a certain counter.
“You bought the wrong thing again!” Zinaida fumed. “I asked for twenty-percent sour cream, and this is fifteen!”
“There wasn’t any other kind at the store,” Nonna explained.
“Then you should have gone to another store! What a cheap excuse!”
In the evenings, the women occupied the living room, loudly discussing neighbors, relatives, and everyone they knew. The television blared at full volume.
“Nonna, bring us some tea!” Valentina Petrovna shouted.
“And cookies! Not those cheap ones you usually buy!” Zinaida added.
Ruslan came home late, claiming he had business at the shop. He went straight to bed, brushing off his wife’s attempts to talk.
On the tenth day, Nonna could not take it anymore.
“Ruslan, this cannot go on. Your aunt is constantly rude to me and demands that I serve her like a maid.”
“Don’t wind yourself up. Aunt Zina is just a straightforward woman. Besides, they’re guests. You need to show hospitality.”
“Guests? They’ve been living here for a week and a half and acting like they own the place!”
“Nonna, this is my mother. And her sister. They’re elderly people who came for treatment. Is it really so hard to put up with it?”
“Do you even hear me? I’m exhausted! I work, then I come home and serve your relatives!”
“STOP being hysterical!” Ruslan raised his voice. “They’ll stay as long as they need to, and that’s final!”
The situation worsened with every passing day. Valentina Petrovna started rearranging the furniture “for convenience,” and Zinaida threw away Nonna’s favorite blanket, calling it “a rag.”
“Ruslanchik, why does your wife disappear at work all day?” Zinaida asked over dinner. “A normal woman should sit at home and wait for her husband.”
“I work because I like it,” Nonna replied.
“Like it?” Valentina Petrovna snorted. “And cooking for your husband, cleaning the apartment—you don’t like that? Just look at the filth under the refrigerator!”
“I cleaned yesterday…”
“You cleaned badly! At your age, I worked too, and the house shone, and my husband was always fed!”
“Mom is right,” Ruslan suddenly intervened. “You’ve really let the household go lately.”
Nonna looked at her husband with wide eyes.
“Are you serious?”
“What? The facts speak for themselves. Yesterday my shirt was poorly ironed, and today’s lunch was tasteless.”
“Lunch was tasteless? I cooked for three hours after work!”
“Well, then you don’t know how to cook,” Ruslan shrugged.
Zinaida giggled.
“You should have seen how I cooked when I was young! Men lined up for me!”
“And this one’s borscht is watery and her cutlets are dry,” Valentina Petrovna supported her sister.
Nonna got up from the table.
“Where are you going?” her mother-in-law protested. “Who’s going to wash the dishes?”
“Wash them yourselves!” Nonna snapped and went into the bedroom.
“What rudeness!” Valentina Petrovna was indignant. “Ruslan, are you going to let this slide?”
Half an hour later, an enraged Ruslan entered the bedroom.
“Have you completely lost your mind? How dare you speak to my mother like that?”
“And how dare she speak to me like that? I am not a servant!”
“They are GUESTS in MY home! And you will behave properly!”
“In your home? Then who am I here?”
“You are my wife. And you must respect my family!”
“Aren’t I your family?”
“Don’t twist my words! Mom and Auntie will stay as long as necessary. And you will treat them with respect. THAT’S IT!”
He slammed the door.
The next morning, Nonna woke up with one clear thought—this could not continue. She made breakfast, silently listened to another round of complaints, and left for work.
During her lunch break, she called her friend.
“Alyona, can I stay at your place for a couple of days?”
“Of course! What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
After work, Nonna returned home and began packing. Ruslan was not home yet. Valentina Petrovna and Zinaida were sitting in the living room.
“What’s with all this packing?” her mother-in-law noticed the suitcase.
“I’m leaving for a few days.”
“What do you mean, leaving? Who will cook? Who will clean?”
“You’re grown women. You’ll manage.”
“You’ve become completely insolent!” Zinaida shrieked. “Does Ruslan know about this?”
“He’ll find out.”
“NO, you are not going anywhere!” Valentina Petrovna blocked the way to the door. “You will stay here and fulfill your duties!”
“GET OUT of my way!” Nonna raised her voice.
“How dare you! I won’t allow this!”
At that moment, Ruslan returned.
“What’s going on here?”
“Your little wife is trying to run away!” Zinaida wailed. “She’s packing her things!”
“Nonna, what kind of circus is this?”
“This isn’t a circus, Ruslan. I’m going to stay with my friend. I’m tired of putting up with rudeness and humiliation.”
“You are not going anywhere!”
“Oh yes, I am! I’m a free person!”
“You are my WIFE!”
“One you don’t respect or value!”
“Stop the hysteria!”
“And you STOP turning me into a servant for your relatives!”
Valentina Petrovna threw up her hands.
“There it is, her true face! Ruslanchik, I told you—she is no match for you!”
“SHUT UP!” Nonna screamed. “I’m sick of you! Sick of ALL of you!”
She grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door.
“If you leave now, don’t bother coming back!” Ruslan shouted.
Nonna turned around.
“Excellent! That’s exactly what I’ll do!”
The door slammed.
“Good riddance!” Zinaida snorted. “What kind of woman did you marry?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find you a normal wife,” Valentina Petrovna comforted her son. “One who knows her place!”
Ruslan silently went into the bedroom. He was sure Nonna would return in a day or two. Where else would she go?
A week passed. Nonna did not return and did not call. At first Ruslan was angry, then he began to worry. But his pride would not let him call first.
Meanwhile, hell began at home.
“Ruslan, is breakfast ready?” his mother asked every morning.
“Mom, I’m late for work.”
“Then get up earlier and cook! We’re sick people!”
In the evening, a three-page shopping list awaited him.
“And don’t forget to stop by the pharmacy!” Zinaida ordered. “I need drops, the brand I told you about yesterday!”
“Aunt Zina, I don’t remember the name…”
“Irresponsible! You should write things down!”
Within a week, the apartment had turned into chaos. Dirty dishes, unwashed floors, dust. Valentina Petrovna only gave orders, and Zinaida echoed her. They refused to cook—“we came here for treatment, not to stand by the stove.”
“Ruslan, you’ve run out of clean shirts!” his mother complained. “When are you going to do the laundry?”
“Mom, I work twelve hours a day!”
“Well, your father worked fourteen and still managed everything!”
On the tenth day, Ruslan could not take it anymore.
“Mom, Aunt Zina, let’s hire a housekeeper.”
“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” Valentina Petrovna shrieked. “A stranger in the house? NEVER!”
“But I can’t handle everything!”
“Then why did you drive your wife away?” Zinaida asked mockingly.
“I didn’t drive her away! She left on her own!”
“Because you failed to put her in her place in time! A man should be in charge!”
By the end of the second week, Ruslan was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The shop was barely functioning—he kept having to leave for groceries, the pharmacy, or some other errand for his mother and aunt.
“Ruslanchik, the refrigerator is broken!” Valentina Petrovna announced one morning.
“What do you mean, broken? It was working yesterday!”
“Today it isn’t! Zina wanted to heat up some tea, pressed some buttons, and now it won’t turn on!”
It turned out that Zinaida had “accidentally” turned on defrost mode and pulled the plug from the outlet. All the food spoiled.
“We’ll have to buy a new one!” she declared. “This one was old anyway!”
“It’s two years old!”
“Then it must have been defective!”
That evening, Ruslan sat in the kitchen calculating expenses. In two weeks, they had spent as much money as he and Nonna usually spent in two months. Medicines, special foods, his mother’s and aunt’s whims.
The phone rang. An unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Ruslan Sergeyevich? This is Maria Ivanovna, your downstairs neighbor. Do you have a flood up there?”
“What flood?”
“Water is leaking from my ceiling! In the bathroom!”
Ruslan ran to the bathroom. Zinaida had forgotten to turn off the tap, and water was pouring over the edge of the bathtub.
“AUNT ZINA!”
“Oh, I forgot! So what? A little water spilled!”
“A little? We flooded the neighbors!”
“So what? They have insurance!”
The neighbor demanded compensation for the damage—she had just finished renovating. The sum was substantial.
The next day, Ruslan came home and discovered that his watch was missing—the one Nonna had given him for their wedding anniversary.
“Mom, where is my watch?”
“Oh, that one? Zinochka took it to a pawnshop.”
“WHAT? WHY?”
“We needed money for medicine! Yesterday you said there was no money!”
“That was a GIFT from my wife!”
“Your former wife,” Zinaida corrected him. “And why are you shouting anyway? We’re doing this for your own good!”
“For my own good? YOU DESTROYED MY LIFE!”
“Don’t you dare speak like that!” Valentina Petrovna shrieked. “We saved you from that insolent woman!”
“Insolent? NONNA was the only person who turned this apartment into a home!”
“She wasn’t worthy of you!”
“YOU weren’t worthy of her! GET OUT! BOTH OF YOU! RIGHT NOW!”
“You can’t throw out your own mother!”
“YES, I CAN! Pack your things and GET OUT! I’m giving you one hour!”
“Ruslan, come to your senses!” Valentina Petrovna wailed.
“Ungrateful!” Zinaida shrieked. “We came to you with open hearts!”
“OUT! I don’t want you here in an hour!”
Ruslan went into the bedroom and dialed Nonna’s number. Long beeps.
“Hello,” came his wife’s calm voice.
“Nonna, forgive me! I was an idiot! Please come back!”
“Ruslan, you’re too late.”
“What do you mean, too late?”
“I filed for divorce. The documents are in your mailbox.”
“Nonna, let’s talk! I threw them out! They’re leaving!”
“It’s too late, Ruslan. You made your choice. Now live with it.”
The line went dead.
An hour later, Valentina Petrovna and Zinaida left the apartment with curses, promising that he would regret it.
Ruslan was left alone in the wrecked apartment. On the table lay a notice for a registered letter—the divorce papers. At the pawnshop, he was told that the watch had already been sold. The neighbors had sued him for the flooding.
He sat down on the floor in the middle of the living room and suddenly understood—he had lost everything. The wife who had loved him. The home she had created. The happiness he had failed to appreciate.
Meanwhile, Nonna was signing a lease for her own apartment. Small, but hers. A place where no one would humiliate her or order her around. On the table lay a promotion offer—the editor-in-chief had appreciated her work and offered her the chance to head a new department.
She smiled. Sometimes you need to show anger to defend your dignity. Sometimes you need to slam one door in order to open new ones.
As for Ruslan, let him live with his choice. After all, he himself had decided what mattered more—his wife or his relatives’ whims. Well, everyone gets what they deserve.
A month later, Nonna ran into a mutual acquaintance.
“Have you heard about Ruslan? He’s selling the shop. He’s gotten into debt. And they say he’ll have to sell the apartment too—the neighbors won the lawsuit, and the compensation was huge.”
Nonna shrugged. Those were no longer her problems.
Valentina Petrovna and Zinaida returned to their village. The treatment they had supposedly come for turned out to be made up—they had simply wanted to live in the city at someone else’s expense. Now they sat in their own homes and complained to the neighbors about an ungrateful son and nephew.
“We raised him, brought him up, and he threw his own mother out!” Valentina Petrovna lamented.
Only for some reason, the neighbors were in no hurry to sympathize. Everyone remembered how she herself had once driven her own mother-in-law out of the house.
You reap what you sow.
