Svetlana Petrovna had always believed that her son Igor had chosen the wrong wife. To her, Marina was far too independent, even insolent, and certainly not one of their own kind. Back in the village where Svetlana Petrovna had grown up, people would have summed up a woman like her in a few words: “She keeps her thoughts to herself. You never know what’s in her heart.”
Lena, the daughter of an old friend, would have been a much better choice. She knew how to knead dough, and she would have gazed devotedly at her future husband. But Igor refused to listen and married Marina.
At least the couple had found an apartment quickly. They moved in just a year after the wedding. It was an impressive place: a spacious two-bedroom apartment on the twelfth floor of a new building, with enormous floor-to-ceiling windows.
Svetlana Petrovna had sighed when she first saw it. She couldn’t contribute any money, but that didn’t stop her from asserting her authority. Every visit became a test of Marina’s patience. There was always dust behind the sofa, or the curtains looked “dreary,” or dinner was too watery. Marina usually said nothing. She merely smiled faintly, which infuriated Svetlana Petrovna all the more. She was sure Marina was mocking her.
An opportunity to “set things right” came when Igor was sent to Surgut on a business trip lasting almost six weeks.
“Mom, please don’t give Marina a hard time,” he asked at the station, kissing her cheek. “Things are awful at her job right now. She’s exhausted.”
“Oh, come on, son. When have I ever been a nuisance?” Svetlana Petrovna said, pursing her lips. “I only want to help. I’ll wash the windows and bake you some pies.”
A plan formed in her mind at once. She was convinced Marina had bewitched her son and was only waiting for a chance to take possession of his apartment.
While Igor’s up north earning money, I’ll drive that snake out, she thought. I’ll put her out with her belongings, then tell him she left of her own accord.
She had no doubt Igor would believe his mother over that woman. A mother would never steer her son wrong.
She waited two weeks for Marina to let her guard down. Then she bought a huge blue-and-red checked shopping bag at the market. She deliberately chose the ugliest one she could find. On Friday, knowing Marina came home early from work, she went over to confront her.
Svetlana Petrovna had a key that Igor had given her “just in case.” She let herself in and slammed the door loudly.
Marina was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea. She wore a soft robe and had a tablet resting on her lap. When she saw her mother-in-law, she raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Svetlana Petrovna? Hello. Why didn’t you call first? Has something happened to Igor?”
“Igor is fine, thank God,” her mother-in-law said sharply, walking straight into the kitchen without taking off her outdoor shoes. She wanted to make it clear who was in charge. “But you and I are going to have a very short conversation, dear.”
She threw the checked bag onto the table. Its zipper struck the expensive surface with a dull clink.
“What’s this?” Marina asked quietly, glancing from the bag to the dirty tracks left by Svetlana Petrovna’s shoes.
“Your one-way ticket out of here,” Svetlana Petrovna announced triumphantly, planting her hands on her hips. “Come on, Marina, pack your things. Your fancy imported makeup, your clothes. I want you gone within the hour.”
Marina did not jump up or shout. She did not even flinch. She slowly took a sip of tea and set her cup on its saucer.
“Svetlana Petrovna, have you lost your mind? This is my apartment. Igor and I live here.”
“This is my son’s apartment!” her mother-in-law snapped. “I’m done putting up with your tricks. He works himself to the bone, and you sit here like a princess. Enough. You’ve used my boy long enough. I’ve explained everything to Igor, and he knows what’s happening. Leave your keys and go quietly, or I’ll throw your things off the balcony and let everyone see your disgrace.”
Svetlana Petrovna was lying without a trace of shame. She had said nothing to Igor. She counted on Marina being too proud to stay after such an insult. Marina would pack a suitcase, go to a friend’s place, and that would be the end of it. Igor would come home to an empty apartment. His mother would cry with him, comfort him, and invite Lena over a month later.
Marina studied her mother-in-law. There were no tears or fear in her eyes—only an odd, unsettling look of pity.
“So you’re saying Igor knows about this, and it was his decision?” she asked.
“Of course it was!” Svetlana Petrovna shouted, growing more worked up by her own lies. “My son finally realized what kind of snake he’s been sheltering. Hurry up. Leave the keys on the hall cabinet and get out.”
Marina sighed, picked up her phone, and lit the screen.
“Who are you calling? Your friends so you can cry to them? Go ahead. Let them come and collect you. I can hardly stand being in the same room as you,” her mother-in-law went on. In her mind, she was already rearranging the apartment, deciding where to move the ficus and what rug to put in the living room instead of that “stupid gray one.”
Marina held the phone to her ear and switched on the speaker. It rang, and then Igor answered, sounding tired but cheerful.
“Marina! Hi, sweetheart. It’s almost nighttime here. I’ve just finished my shift. How are you?”
Svetlana Petrovna froze for a moment, then decided to attack. She was too far away to snatch the phone, so she shouted toward it.
“Igor! Son! Don’t listen to her! I came over and found the place in a mess. She had a man hiding here—I saw him myself! I’m throwing her out, just as we agreed! She wants to steal your apartment!”
A heavy silence followed. Only the distant hum of the northern wind could be heard.
“Mom?” Igor’s voice turned icy and unfamiliar. “What are you doing there?”
“Saving your apartment!” Svetlana Petrovna wailed, inventing details as she spoke. “You leave town, and she starts carrying on. I tell her to go, and she just sits there being rude to me!”
“Mom,” Igor interrupted. His tone sent a chill down her spine. She had never heard him speak like that. “Be quiet and listen carefully.”
“Son…”
“I said be quiet!” he roared so loudly the speaker crackled. “Pick up your bag and your things, and leave. I want you out of that apartment in five minutes.”
“Igor, how can you say that? I’m doing this for you. It’s your apartment!” Svetlana Petrovna’s lips trembled with indignation.
“That’s the point, Mom. You’ve overlooked one detail,” Igor said with a bitter laugh. “We didn’t take out a mortgage. Only a quarter of the purchase price came from money I’d saved before the wedding.”
Svetlana Petrovna frowned, confused.
“So what? You bought it while you were married. That means it belongs to both of you.”
“Marina’s parents gave her the rest of the money as a wedding gift. They sold their country house and a share of their business to do it. Before we bought the apartment, we signed a prenuptial agreement. Under that agreement, Mom, the apartment belongs entirely to Marina. Legally, I’m only registered as living there. If we divorce, I’ll leave with one suitcase. It’s her apartment, and you’re trying to throw its owner out of her own home.”
Svetlana Petrovna stood with her mouth open. Suddenly, the kitchen seemed to have no air in it. How could the apartment belong to Marina? Her son—her clever boy, her pride and joy—was merely living in that woman’s home?
“Son… how could you let this happen?” she stammered. “You’re a man. Why would you put yourself under her thumb? Why put the apartment in a woman’s name?”
“I didn’t put anything in anyone’s name,” Igor replied wearily. “We did what was fair. Marina paid for the apartment, so it belongs to her. I’m registered there, we live together, and we love each other. Everything was fine until you staged this circus. Mom, I’m ashamed of you. I’m deeply ashamed of what you’ve done to my wife.”
Throughout the call, Marina had calmly drunk her tea. She did not even look at her mother-in-law. Her gaze rested on the window, beyond which the evening lights were coming on.
“Marina,” Igor said, his voice softening with regret, “I’m sorry. I had no idea Mom was capable of this. I’ll take her keys away as soon as I get home.”
“It’s all right, Igor,” Marina said quietly. “This isn’t your fault. Get some rest. You have to be up early.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Marina ended the call. The kitchen fell silent apart from the sound of traffic outside.
Svetlana Petrovna stood in the middle of the room feeling like a complete fool. The checked bag on the table no longer looked like a symbol of victory. It was a reminder of her humiliation. Her clever plan had collapsed because of a document she hadn’t even known existed. She had thought life was simple: the man was in charge, the woman should keep quiet, and a mother was always right. Now it seemed the world had changed while she had clung to ideas that no longer held.
Marina stood, took the bag from the table, and held it out to her.
“Take this, Svetlana Petrovna. It’s time for you to go.”
Her mother-in-law took the bag automatically. Her hands were shaking.
“One more thing.” Marina held out her open palm. “Leave the keys Igor gave you. Now.”
“Marina, why be like this?” Svetlana Petrovna began coaxingly. She understood she had damaged her relationship with her son and was desperate to find a way out. “I did it because I care. I only wanted to test you. I’m a foolish old woman. I lost my temper…”
“The keys, Svetlana Petrovna,” Marina repeated. There was no anger or triumph in her voice, only a firmness that would not bend.
Reluctantly, Svetlana Petrovna reached into her pocket. She took out the keys with the little bear keychain Igor had once given her and placed them in Marina’s palm. The metal felt cold against her skin.
“And please leave,” Marina said, opening the front door. “The locks will be changed tomorrow morning, so those keys wouldn’t have worked for long anyway.”
Svetlana Petrovna stepped onto the landing. The door closed behind her at once, softly and firmly. The lock clicked.
She stood by the elevator clutching the empty checked bag. She felt as if the entire building was watching her, though there was no one else on the landing. She was hurt enough to cry—hurt for herself, for her shattered authority, and for the son who had chosen his wife over her. But more than anything, she was ashamed. She realized that her own cruel, foolish act had pushed her out of her son’s life. It seemed there was no way back.
Svetlana Petrovna cried all the way home on the bus, hiding her face behind the blue checked bag. Meanwhile, Marina washed the kitchen floor, wiping away the dirty tracks left by her mother-in-law’s shoes. She smiled quietly, without malice. Her home was her refuge, and no one—not even the most determined mother-in-law—could destroy what she and Igor had built on honesty and love.
