«Are you seriously deciding to invite your mother to live with us without my consent?» I blurted out irritably, feeling everything inside boiling with outrage.
Andrey froze with a cup of coffee halfway to his mouth. Outside, a fine autumn rain was drizzling, the drops tapping on the ledge, creating a tense accompaniment to our conversation. The kitchen, usually cozy and warm in the evenings, now seemed cramped and stuffy.
«Olga, let’s not…» he began in his usual soothing tone, which made me want to throw a kitchen towel at him. «Mom is all alone, after dad’s death, it’s been hard for her…»
«No, let’s do this!» I interrupted, sitting down opposite him at the table. «We’ve been married for fifteen years, Andrey. Fifteen! And in all this time, haven’t you learned to discuss important decisions with me?»
He put the cup on the table, and I noticed his fingers tremble slightly. Once, his hands seemed to me the most reliable in the world. Now, I wanted to move away so he wouldn’t see how treacherously my eyes glistened.
«Mom called yesterday,» he said quietly, looking out the window. «A pipe burst, flooded the apartment below. You know that old house… I couldn’t refuse her.»
«We could have helped with the repairs,» I tried to speak calmly, but my voice treacherously shook. «Hire workers, after all. But to live together? Andrey, we have two children, our own established life…»
«It’s temporary,» he tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away. «Just until the repairs are done. A month, at most two.»
I bitterly smiled. In fifteen years of marriage, I had learned enough about my mother-in-law. Tatyana Petrovna never missed a chance to hint that I was not a good enough housewife, that my borscht wasn’t as rich as hers, and the curtains in the living room weren’t hung right.
«Two months will stretch to six, then a year…» I got up from the table, feeling that I was about to cry. «And I will feel like a stranger in my own home. Thanks for at least warning me in advance, instead of presenting it as a done deal on the day of the move.»
I almost whispered the last words as I left the kitchen. The bedroom was dark and cool—the window had been left open since morning. I walked to the window, peering into the gray veil of rain. Somewhere there, in an old five-story building on the other side of town, Tatyana Petrovna was surely already packing her suitcases, imagining how she would «help» us manage the household and raise the children.
«Daughter, you should make cutlets like this…» «Olga, the kids need a schedule, and you…» «Son, I told you that Olenka can’t cope…»
Just the thought of these imaginary phrases made me nauseous. Below, the front door slammed—Andrey had gone to work without even saying goodbye. For the first time in fifteen years.
Tatyana Petrovna appeared in our home exactly a week after that conversation in the kitchen. I was just finishing cooking dinner when I heard a car stop in the yard. Wiping my hands on a towel, I approached the window: Andrey was pulling two huge suitcases out of the trunk, and his mother, in a light gray coat and with her usual hairstyle, was inspecting our yard, pursing her lips—as if considering what could be improved here.
The children ran out to meet their grandmother. Masha and Dimka adored her—of course, she always brought gifts and never scolded them for a mess in the room. I watched as they clung to her from both sides, and she pulled out some wrapped items from her handbag…
«My dears!» Tatyana Petrovna’s voice echoed through the yard. «How I’ve missed you! And here are some treats for you, just don’t tell your mother—she doesn’t like sweets before dinner…»
I clenched my teeth in pain. It begins. Even without stepping over the threshold, she was already undermining my parental authority.
«Mom, let me carry that,» Andrey reached for her travel bag, but she waved him off:
«I can manage, son. You know, I’m an independent person. There, I raised you all by myself…»
I moved away from the window. The borscht was boiling in the pot—maybe today it would go without comments about how there’s too little carrot and too much beetroot.
The front door opened, letting in a din of voices and the shuffle of feet.
«Olga!» Tatyana Petrovna, flushed and unusually flustered, stepped into the kitchen. «It smells so wonderful here! And here I am… I had to disturb…»
She glanced around the kitchen, and I noticed her lips tremble. For a second, I even felt sorry for her—after all, she’s not young anymore, accustomed to her own corner, and here…
«Come in, Tatyana Petrovna,» I tried to smile. «We’re about to have dinner. Kids, wash your hands!»
«I’ll help set the table,» she bustled, heading to the cupboard with dishes. «Oh, you still have the same plates… I’ve been telling Andryusha for a long time—buy a new set, this one is out of fashion…»
I silently grabbed the ladle. The main thing was to breathe deeply and count to ten.
«Mashenka, sweetheart, sit closer to grandma,» Tatyana Petrovna cooed, arranging the plates. «I brought you such a lovely doll – it’s a sight to behold! Although, your mom says you already have too many toys…»
My daughter cast a guilty glance at me. I stirred the borscht demonstratively, feeling a cold sweat running down my back. Two weeks. A month at most. I can handle this. I will cope.
«And where will mom sleep?» Dimka asked curiously, looking at the suitcases in the hallway.
«In your room, son,» Andrey replied, laying out the cutlery. «You don’t mind staying with your sister, do you?»
Mashka beamed – she had long dreamed of having something like an eternal pajama party. And I froze with the ladle in my hand. In the kids’ room? Seriously? We had agreed on the sofa in the living room…
«No, no, what are you talking about!» Tatyana Petrovna exclaimed, waving her hands. «I’ll be perfectly fine in the living room. I don’t want to inconvenience the children…»
But from her tone, it was clear – she was already sizing up the children’s room, figuring out how she would rearrange the furniture and what curtains she would hang. After all, she’s the «experienced mom,» unlike some…
Dinner passed in a strange atmosphere – Tatyana Petrovna questioned the children about school, occasionally casting sideways glances at me, Andrey diligently kept the conversation going, and I… I counted the minutes until I could escape to the bedroom and at least have some peace there.
«The borscht is very tasty, Olenka,» my mother-in-law unexpectedly said. «But you know, if you added a little bit of…»
I pushed the chair back noisily.
«Excuse me, I need to check my email. For work,» I added, though no one had asked.
Already in the hallway, I heard her whisper: «Andryusha, your daughter-in-law is still so… nervous.»
Two weeks flew by like a fog. In the mornings, I stayed in bed longer, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen – the clinking of dishes, the sizzling of oil on the pan, a quiet melody on the radio…
Previously, at this time, I would be bustling in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, listening to the sleepy snoring of the children. Now, everything had changed. By eight o’clock, the smell of fresh baking even penetrated through the closed bedroom door, accompanied by the ringing voice of my mother-in-law, singing some old song.
«Good morning, Olenka!» her voice was sickly sweet. «I decided to make pancakes for the kids for breakfast. Dimochka mentioned yesterday that he hadn’t had them in a long time…»
I bit my lip. Of course, he hadn’t – the last month had been too hectic at work, and I barely managed to cook anything quickly.
«And I noticed,» she continued, deftly flipping another pancake, «that the grains in your cupboard were somewhat improperly arranged. I rearranged them a bit, now it will be more convenient…»
Mashka and Dimka were gobbling up the pancakes, unaware of how pale I had become. My cupboard. My kitchen. My life. Everything was gradually slipping through my fingers.
«Mom, you didn’t have to,» I tried to speak calmly. «I have my own system…»
«Oh, what kind of system!» she dismissed. «Back in my day…»
I didn’t bother to listen further, silently took a cup of coffee, and went to the bedroom to get ready for work. It became my salvation – an office where no one commented on every step I took.
In the evening, returning home, I found the children doing their homework in the kitchen. Tatyana Petrovna, presiding over the table, was checking Mashka’s math notebook.
«No, no, granddaughter, that’s not right,» her voice was full of saintly patience. «Look, this is how it should be done. Strange that they didn’t explain it at school… And does mom check your homework?»
Mashka guiltily glanced my way: «She checks… sometimes. When there’s time.»
«Exactly, sometimes,» the mother-in-law sighed. «But children need constant attention. I did homework with Andryusha every day, that’s why he grew up to be such…»
«Enough!» I sharply placed my bag on the table. «Kids, off to your room. You can do your homework there.»
«But we haven’t finished…» Mashka started.
«Finish upstairs!»
When the children left, I turned to the mother-in-law: «Tatyana Petrovna, let’s come to an agreement. I appreciate your help, but raising children is mine and Andrey’s responsibility.»
«Of course, of course,» she smiled that smile that always grated on my nerves. «I just wanted to help. I see how tired you are from work… Maybe you should spend more time with the family? Andryusha earns well, he could support us alone…»
«My job is not up for discussion,» I cut her off.
At that moment, the front door slammed – Andrey was back.
«Oh, what a smell!» he sniffed. «Mom, are you baking your signature pie?»
«Yes, son!» she beamed. «Especially for you. Remember how you loved it as a child? Lately, we’ve only had store-bought cakes…»
I silently started unpacking the grocery bag. That very pie, which Andrey mentioned every time I tried to bake something: «It’s tasty, of course, but mom’s was different…»
«Olya, why are you so glum?» my husband tried to hug me, but I pulled away.
«Tired,» I said shortly. «And I have a headache.»
«Maybe you should lie down?» the mother-in-law offered helpfully. «I’ll set the table for dinner. At the same time, I’ll show Andryusha how I rearranged the dishes in the cupboards – it’s more convenient this way, right?»
I closed my eyes and slowly counted to ten. Then to twenty. It didn’t help.
«You know what,» I turned to my husband. «I really will go lie down. And you… you’ll manage without me. You’re family.»
I almost spat out the last word. Climbing the stairs, I heard the mother-in-law say: «Andryusha, why are you so sad? She’s just tired. Let me give you more pie, you love the crust…»
That evening, I packed my bag, my mind ringing with emptiness. I mechanically folded items: a T-shirt, jeans, a toothbrush… I placed my laptop on top – at least I could work in peace. My phone vibrated – a message from Lenka: «Room’s ready, come any time.»
Below, another family dinner rumbled on. The mother-in-law’s voice reached the bedroom: «Andryusha, I was thinking… Maybe change the curtains in the living room? These are so dreary. I saw some lovely ones in the store, with flowers…»
«I zipped up my bag. Andrei and I had chosen the curtains last birthday – we spent the whole day shopping, arguing, laughing. Now it all seemed so distant, as if from another life.
“Mom, I’m going to Lena’s,” I shouted from the staircase. “I need to finish the work project.”
Andrei peered out from the kitchen: “Now? It’s already late…”
“The deadline is burning.”
I deliberately avoided his gaze. I knew if I looked into his eyes, my resolve would melt away like last year’s snow.
“Maybe eat something first?” Tatyana Petrovna emerged in the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. “I made your favorite cutlets. From a special recipe…”
«Favorite cutlets.» In fifteen years, she never remembered that I don’t eat meat. “Thanks, I’m not hungry.”
The children spilled into the hallway: “Mom, will you be long? Will you help us with math tomorrow? Can I come with you?”
I hugged them both, burying my nose in their familiar crowns. Masha smelled of caramel shampoo, Dimka oddly of oranges.
“Mom, what is it?” my daughter wondered. “It’s like you’re saying goodbye…”
“I just missed you,” I managed a strained smile. “I’m acting silly, right?”
“Nothing silly about it,” Dimka pressed closer. “You’re the best.”
I kissed them again and quickly left before I could change my mind. The bag weighed down my shoulder, a lump formed in my throat.
“Olya!” Andrei caught up with me at the entrance. “Wait, I’ll drive you.”
“No need,” I shook my head. “I’ll walk, think things over.”
“About what?”
I finally looked him in the eyes. So many times over the years, I had found support, love, understanding in them… Now there was only bewilderment and something else, elusive. Fear?
“About us,” I took a deep breath, trying to steady my trembling voice. “Remember how we started living together? Every little thing was ours—from the arrangement of cups in the kitchen to the timing of family dinners. And now… now I wake up every day feeling like a guest in my own home. Your mother isn’t just living with us, Andrei. She’s gradually erasing everything we’ve built over the years. And the scariest part—you don’t even notice it. About how I no longer feel like a hostess here. A wife. A mother.”
“You’re exaggerating,” he tried to take my hand. “Mom just wants to help…”
“No,” I stepped back. “I’m not exaggerating. You know what’s really scary? I’ve started to hate my own home. A place where I should feel happy.”
“And what do you suggest?”
“Nothing,” I shrugged. “I just want to be alone. Think. Maybe you should too.”
I turned and walked down the alley without looking back. Street lamps cast long shadows, a dog barked in the distance. The light was on in our apartment window—probably Tatyana Petrovna putting the kids to bed. Her way, of course. Not like they were used to. Not like I did.
My phone vibrated in my pocket again. “Where are you? The tea is getting cold,” Lena had texted.
“On my way,” I replied, wiping away traitorous tears.
All the way to my friend’s, I imagined Andrei returning home, how his mom would comfort him with her signature pie, how she would explain that I was always too emotional, not suited for family life…
Maybe now, left alone with this situation, he would finally see what I’d been trying to explain all these weeks. Maybe he would think about what a family truly means—not just a mother, but also a wife and children. And that sometimes, choices must be made.
The bus pulled away, taking me away from the home where I left part of my heart. I wonder if Andrei has enough wisdom to understand that I left not because of him, but because of the situation he created? And if I have the strength to wait for that understanding?
Three days at Lenka’s stretched like an eternity. I worked remotely, called the kids, and tried not to think about what was happening at home. But my thoughts kept returning there, to the familiar walls, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the mornings, to the children’s laughter…
The phone rang on the evening of the fourth day. The screen read “Mom”—Tatyana Petrovna insisted I save her number like that in the first year of our marriage.
“Olechka,” her voice sounded unusually quiet. “We need to talk.”
I remained silent, twisting the hem of my shirt in my fingers.
“You know,” she continued after a pause, “when Andryusha’s father died, it felt like my life was over. I clung to my son, to memories… To my habits. They gave me strength, helped me not to break.”
She breathed unevenly: “Then there was that incident with the pipes, and I… I got scared of being completely alone. Clung to the chance to be close to my son, to my grandchildren. I didn’t think about you. About how I was invading someone else’s life.”
“Tatyana Petrovna…”
“No, let me finish,” her voice shook. “Yesterday, Andrei yelled at me for the first time. Do you know about what? About how I moved the album with your wedding photos. He said, ‘Mom, you didn’t even ask where it should be. Every little thing in this house matters to Olya, every item has its place and its story. And you…’”
I closed my eyes, picturing that scene. Andrei, always calm, sensible—and suddenly shouting at his mother…
“He’s right,” said Tatyana Petrovna quietly. “It’s like I was trying to erase you from this house. Replace myself with you. Forgive me, if you can.”
Silence hung on the line. Somewhere in the background, music played—probably Masha turned on her favorite playlist.
“I found an apartment,” suddenly said my mother-in-law. “Close to you, in the next block. It needs some repairs, but…”
“We’ll help,” the words slipped out on their own.
“Really?” hope flickered in her voice. “I thought… After everything…”
“You’re still the grandmother of my children,” I smiled involuntarily. “And my husband’s mother.”
“Thank you,” she exhaled. “You know, it was Andryusha who found the apartment. He said, ‘Mom, you need to live nearby, but not with us. So we can see each other often, but each of us can keep our space.’”
«At that moment, the doorbell rang. Andrei was standing on the doorstep—haggard, unshaven, with guilty eyes.
“Ol,” he stepped into the room. “I’ve understood everything. Forgive me. I thought I was doing what was best, but in reality…”
I pressed a finger to his lips: “Quiet. I know. Your mom just called.”
“I missed you,” he pulled me close. “A home without you… isn’t a home.”
“And how are the kids?”
“Masha declared that if you don’t come back, she’ll go on a hunger strike,” he smirked. “And Dimka said that he’ll move in with you then.”
I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent: “I missed you all too.”
“Shall we go home?” he stepped back, looking into my eyes. “Mom is already packing her things. She said she needs to get the apartment ready for renovation.”
“For renovation?”
“I found her a place nearby,” he hesitated. “I hope you don’t mind? She’s alone, and…”
“I don’t mind,” I shook my head. “But let’s agree: the next important conversation you start shouldn’t be with ‘I’ve decided,’ but with ‘let’s discuss it.’”
“I promise,” he smiled and took out the car keys from his pocket. “Shall we go? The kids are waiting.”
Returning home turned out to be… strange. Tatyana Petrovna met us with tears in her eyes, the children clung to me, each trying to outdo the other with school news. And I stood in the hallway, looking around at the familiar walls, thinking about how sometimes you need to leave in order to come back. And that love is not only about being together but also about the wisdom of giving each other freedom.
In the evening, as I was sorting through the bedroom, I found our wedding album—right where it had always been. On the first page was our favorite photo: Andrei and I laughing, looking at each other, with white doves flying in the sky behind us.
“I put it back in its place,” my mother-in-law’s voice came from the door. “Where it belongs.”
I looked up: “Thank you.”
She nodded and quietly closed the door. And I sat for a long time with the album, turning the pages of our story—a story in which there was a place for everyone. Just everyone in their own place.”
