Roman entered the apartment and, as usual, stopped at the threshold. Voices could be heard in the hallway—his mother and wife were discussing something, and as always, it wasn’t about anything joyful. He sighed, feeling the weight of the entire day gathering in his chest—it had been heavy. Work, colleagues, a phone about to burst from calls. It all strained his nerves.
When they had just married two years ago, it seemed that only joy, happiness, and peace lay ahead. Galina Alexandrovna herself had offered them her old apartment. It used to be rented out, but now she decided that the young couple should take it. She hoped they would settle in, create a cozy home, and gather strength for their own lives.
«Here comes the son-in-law,» Galina Alexandrovna emerged from the kitchen. Her voice already carried that familiar and irritating tone. «Anya and I are thinking, maybe, we should change the fridge. The appliances in our apartment should be decent.»
«In our apartment»—this phrase was uttered more frequently, each time with more certainty. Roman felt it, though he remained silent. He had been here many times, but somehow managed to hold back the words that threatened to be sharp and unbearable.
At first, it wasn’t like this. Anya’s mother brought food, helped them settle, and gave advice—about household matters, about life. Anya was happy, Roman said nothing. It seemed normal for parental help at that age; it felt natural.
But something changed with each passing month. Care turned into constant control. Every decision was watched over. Every new TV, stove, pillows were discussed. And even if they didn’t ask for anything, Galina Alexandrovna would come uninvited—»What, have you completely forgotten about your daughter?»
«Mom, we talked about this, now is not the best time for such expenses,» Anya peeked out from the kitchen, quietly and somewhat guiltily looking at Roman. He saw how tired her back was and probably knew this discussion was repeated every day.
«Not the best time, not the best time!» Galina Alexandrovna waved her hands irritably. «And when will it be? When will your husband finally start earning properly? All husbands buy cars, provide for their apartments. And ours…»
Roman remembered the moment he first argued with his mother-in-law. Six months ago, when he refused to take her to the cottage. There was so much work that thoughts couldn’t stick in his head, and projects were failing one after another. Then Galina Alexandrovna threw a real fit. «We gave you a place to live, and you can’t even fulfill a small request!» she yelled. Roman clenched his teeth. His job as a system administrator in a large company was well-paid, but for his mother-in-law, it wasn’t enough. She constantly compared him to Anya’s friends’ husbands, who supposedly earned three times more.
«Svetka’s husband is a director, and Yulka’s has his own business!»—these words stuck in him like needles in the skin. And they didn’t let go.
Anya tried to intervene, to smooth things over, but more often her face became haggard, like that of someone carrying a heavy burden without knowing how to put it down. She ran between two worlds—husband and mother—and tried to please both sides. At night, in silence, she cried into her pillow, thinking Roman didn’t notice. But he saw. And it only got worse.
«Galina Alexandrovna, let’s discuss this later…» Roman tried to pass by, but his mother-in-law, like a wall, stood in his way.
«No, let’s discuss it now!» her voice sounded as if something sharp was coming out, ready to cut. «We let you into this apartment, benefited you! And what in return? All we hear is—no money, not the time… The apartment is in the center, by the way!»
Every word fell like stones. In Roman’s mind, images surfaced—how he and Anya dreamed of their own home, how happy they were when the mother-in-law offered to move here. It was the beginning of their adult life, independence. But here it was, the real face of their «independence»—dependence on someone else’s decisions.
«Mom!» Anya approached her, grabbing her hand. «Stop!»
«What do you mean ‘stop’?» Galina Alexandrovna wasn’t listening anymore. «Am I not telling the truth? Yesterday asked you to take me to the clinic—refused. Work, supposedly urgent. And my high blood pressure, that concerns no one?»
«I explained, there was an important project…» Roman felt a wave of irritation rising within. All this endless comparison, all this guilt—that’s why he was boiling inside.
He remembered yesterday: the emergency server launch, calls from clients, a boss on edge. Amidst this—his mother-in-law’s call demanding he drop everything and drive her to the clinic. When he refused, she didn’t even consider that he might really not have the time.
«An important project!» his mother-in-law interrupted, spreading her hands. «And the fact that we gave you the apartment, that’s not important? Ungrateful you! We thought we’d make our daughter happy, but it turns out…»
«ENOUGH!» Roman turned to Anya, his voice so powerful that even Galina Alexandrovna paused for a moment. «Anya, we need to talk. Alone.»
And so, they found themselves in the bedroom. Anya sat on the edge of the bed, nervously fiddling with her sweater sleeve. Roman sat beside her, feeling words accumulate in his chest. Pieces of phrases he wanted to say a month ago were now part of something bigger.
Roman looked at Anya, who sat in front of him—pale, with dark circles under her eyes. She used to be different. Alive, energetic, laughing. They could talk for hours, make plans, dream. But now… It seemed everything had come to naught. All the chaos, disputes, complaints, reproaches. Money, debts, responsibilities. Everything on their shoulders, and nothing but that.
«It can’t go on like this,» he said quietly, almost in pain. «I’m tired. I’m tired of always having to. Always being watched, always expected. We need to move out.»
Anya raised her eyes to him, and in those eyes was something lost, like someone who suddenly realized everything might be falling apart. Tears glittered.
«Move out where?» her voice trembled.
«To a rented apartment. A one-bedroom.»
The silence they felt was almost physical. Behind the wall, steps of Galina Alexandrovna could be heard—she was clearly standing, listening in.
«But… how? You know how much rent costs.»
«I know. But it’s the only way out. Either we rent an apartment and start living separately, or…» Roman paused, not daring to say what might indeed change everything.
«Or what?» her voice became sharp, with a desperate tone.
«Or we get a divorce,» he barely breathed out. «I can’t live like this anymore. Every day under a microscope. Every word worth its weight in gold. Every decision in sight. I can’t.»
Anya jumped up, literally frozen in some panic, pacing the room.
«Are you crazy? Give up everything—normal life, work, all that we have! For a rented apartment?! For what? To show your independence?»
Her voice broke, in it was both fear and offense. Fear of losing what seems stable. Fear of change, even if it was the only salvation.
«For us, Anya,» his voice softened, but was firm. «For our family. You know, this apartment… it suffocates me. Every time I cross the threshold, I feel not like a master, but like someone mercifully given a corner.»
«But mom meant well! She cares about us, don’t you see?»
«Cares?!» Roman stood up sharply. «That’s not care, Anya. That’s control. Constant, ubiquitous control. We can’t choose which TV to buy without her approval. We can’t spend the weekends as we want. We can’t just be.»
He paused, seeing tears roll down her cheeks. The sight was like a knife in the heart.
«I’m sorry,» he sat down next to her, hugged her shoulders. «I didn’t mean to upset you. But you must understand, it can’t go on like this. We need to learn to live independently. We can’t keep depending on this. We can’t be strangers in our own lives.»
The following days became a silent standoff. They no longer talked about it. But the tension hung in the air like storm clouds. Anya became particularly quiet, increasingly spending time at her parents’. And Roman, staying late at work, seemed to seek shelter from the atmosphere, which became increasingly stifling.
In the evenings, he sat at the computer, browsing apartment listings. The prices, of course, were steep, but the desire to break free, to escape from constant surveillance, grew stronger. And maybe only this desire, like a tiny spark, kept him in this world, which was no longer his.
Sometimes, lying at night, looking at Anya sleeping, Roman thought: maybe it’s worth enduring? Maybe everything will really work out? After all, she was his love, they had been together for many years. But as soon as he entered the house in the morning, Galina Alexandrovna appeared, and it all started anew: reproaches, hints, comparisons with other sons-in-law, who were supposedly much more successful.
Anya also changed. She became nervous, irritable. At work, where she worked as an accountant, errors increasingly occurred. The management delicately hinted at her inattention. At home, she cried.
«I can’t concentrate!» she squeezed through tears. «All the time I think—how’s mom, hasn’t she gotten upset, hasn’t she been hurt…»
Roman was silent. He just looked at her and said, barely audibly:
«And do you think about me? What it’s like for me to feel like a failure every day?»
Anya didn’t answer. Silence was more than an answer.
No one expected the resolution to come so quickly. That weekend, when they were about to visit friends, Galina Alexandrovna called. Her voice was sharp, as always.
«Anya, dad’s car broke down, need to urgently take documents to the notary. Is Roman home? Let him go.»
«Mom, we were going to friends…» Anya tried to find the words.
«Ah, so that’s how it is! Friends are more important than parents? We gave you an apartment, and you…»
«No, mom,» Anya suddenly said, and in her voice was such firmness that Roman even flinched. «We’re not going. And actually…» she looked at him, and in her eyes, he saw something he hadn’t noticed for a long time—determination. «We’ve decided to move out.»
The silence on the phone was so thick that Roman felt tension spread throughout the house. His heart raced faster, and suddenly it was clear—this moment would likely be decisive.
«What do you mean ‘move out’?» Galina Alexandrovna finally squeezed these words out. «Where are you going?»
«We’ll rent an apartment. A one-bedroom.»
«Are you out of your mind?» The mother-in-law momentarily burst into a shout. «To leave such an apartment for a rental? He’s put you up to this!»
«No, mom,» Anya seemed not even surprised. «This is our joint decision. We’re a family with Roman, and we need to learn to live independently.»
At that moment, something suddenly broke. As if an invisible thread that held them captive snapped, and the world became different. All this time, all this silence, this hidden conflict… they were now on the threshold of change.
The week passed like a single moment. The move was quick and somehow strangely easy. The one-bedroom apartment in a residential area turned out to be small but cozy. They moved only the essentials, deciding to buy the rest later, as needed. Anya was in a good mood for the first time in a long time—she made shopping lists, planned where the furniture would go, how they with Roman would set up their new place.
Diana Z. | Just writing. Galina Alexandrovna, of course, didn’t stay aside. She tried to influence through the father, who came to them in the evening, trying to explain that renting was money down the drain, that they were making a mistake. But in his voice was no longer the confidence that was there before. He just played the role that had been predestined for him.
«You know, daughter,» he said finally, «maybe it’s for the best. Your mother… she loves you very much. She just doesn’t know how to let go.»
And here they stood in their new home, no longer paying attention to old quarrels. There was only her, their small apartment, their new life. And maybe, just maybe, in these simple, seemingly mundane changes, they found what they were looking for.
The first evening in the new apartment they spent on the floor, spreading a blanket and ordering pizza. There were no usual conversations about business and worries, no desperate attempts to please someone. They just sat next to each other, looked at the empty walls, and talked about everything in the world, like they once did, long ago, when their lives were easier than now.
«Strange,» Anya mused, «the apartment is probably half the size, but it feels easier to breathe.»
Roman didn’t answer, just pulled her closer. That was all that needed to be said. He felt the same. As if a huge stone had fallen from his shoulders.
Galina Alexandrovna didn’t talk to them for two weeks. Then she called. Her voice was completely different—quiet, somewhat tired, as if she no longer had time for her previous insistence.
«Darling, maybe you’ll come over for dinner?»
Anya, surprisingly, as if from afar, responded:
«Of course, mom. Only now we’ll come as guests. As guests, not as debtors.»
This conversation left something important in the air. Something had changed. Imperceptibly. The mother-in-law no longer called without warning, no longer made reprimands. She began to treat them differently, as if she no longer demanded something, just waited for them to come.
Roman hugged Anya by the shoulders, feeling a sense of calm spreading through his body. He knew there was still a lot ahead. A new neighborhood. Regular payments. And every month they would again and again face the question: how not to stray from the path, not to go back.
But here’s what he definitely knew: they had started building their life, their real family. Without obligations, without old debts. And although their new home was smaller than the previous one, not everything in it was perfect. But here, they could breathe. Unrestrainedly. Without fear.
And most importantly, here they were happy. Together. In their small, but real world.
The End.
