Ritonya, sunshine, have some more salad,» Polina Kirillovna pushed the crystal bowl towards her daughter-in-law. «I made it especially for you, using my mom’s recipe.» Rita smiled mechanically and took a full spoonful. Her mother-in-law nodded in satisfaction and turned to the other guests:
«Now, my dears, I have a surprise for everyone! In honor of my precious Dimochka’s anniversary…» Rita sneakily glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock. They had been sitting at the table for four hours, and it seemed they wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Sasha, sitting next to her, was enthusiastically discussing something with his cousin, oblivious to his wife’s state.
«Three months ago, everything was different,» Rita thought, stirring her salad around on her plate. Back in early spring, she and Sasha dreamed of their own house. They saved every penny, denying themselves everything. They rented an apartment in a residential area—small, but their own. Then Polina Kirillovna made them a «generous» offer.
«Why throw your money away?» she had said at the time. «We have plenty of space, live with us for a while. You’ll save enough for a good one-bedroom in a year or two.»
Sasha was instantly excited about the idea. Rita resisted for two weeks, but under pressure from her husband and mother-in-law, she gave in. «Just for a year,» she convinced herself then.
«…And so we and Dimoy decided,» Polina Kirillovna’s voice brought Rita back to reality, «to give our children half of the apartment!»
The room fell silent, then erupted into excited exclamations. Rita froze, fork in hand.
«Yes, yes,» her mother-in-law continued to beam, «two rooms will be completely theirs! The documents are already ready, right, Sasha? I’ve planned everything, you’ll live in these rooms. And don’t argue with me,» she added, looking at Rita.
Rita slowly turned to her husband. He smiled sheepishly and nodded.
«He knew. He knew all this time and said nothing.»
The rest of the evening passed as if in a fog. Rita politely smiled, thanked, hugged her mother-in-law, and marveled at her generosity. But something inside her had finally broken.
After the guests left, Polina Kirillovna gathered them in the living room for a «family council.»
«Okay, now let’s discuss the details,» she pulled out a notebook. «I’ve drafted a renovation plan for your rooms. I think we’ll start in a week.»
«Mom, maybe not today?» Sasha tried to intervene. «It’s late.»
«What’s late!» Polina Kirillovna dismissed him. «This is important! Rita, sunshine, you understand that everything needs to be set up properly now? I’ve figured it all out: we’ll make the nursery…»
«Excuse me,» Rita stood up from the couch. «I’m not feeling well. I think I’ll go lie down.»
In their room—now officially theirs—Rita sat on the bed and opened her laptop. An email from a city agency had been in her inbox for a week. A great position, high salary, a new city. She had been afraid to even think about this offer before.
But now…
«Why did you run off?» Sasha peeked into the room. «Mom’s upset.»
«Why didn’t you tell me?» Rita asked quietly.
«About what?»
«About the documents. About the fact that you’d already decided everything. About everything.»
Sasha sat down next to her, tried to take her hand. Rita pulled away.
«I wanted to surprise you,» he smiled. «It’s great, isn’t it? Our own place, no rent. Mom will help with the renovation, she’s already found a designer…»
«And you didn’t think to ask me?» Rita stood up, pacing the room. «Sasha, this isn’t normal. We’ve been married for two years, and you make decisions like this without me.»
«What decisions? It’s a gift! From the parents!»
«It’s not a gift. It’s a way to tie us down forever. To control every step.»
«Here we go,» Sasha rolled his eyes. «You’re making things up again. Mom just cares about us.»
«Care?» Rita scoffed bitterly. «Remember how she made a scene when I bought new curtains? How she checks every receipt from the store? How she enters our room without knocking? That’s not care, Sasha. That’s control.»
«You’re exaggerating.»
«Really?» Rita opened the wardrobe, pulled out a suitcase. «You know what’s worst? Not that she behaves this way. But that you don’t notice it. Or don’t want to.»
«What are you doing?»
«Packing.»
«Where to?»
«I’ve been offered a job. In another city. A good job.»
Sasha froze.
«And you… agreed?»
«Not yet. But I will.» Rita began folding clothes into the suitcase. «We have two options, Sasha. Either we start living our own life—separately, independently. Or each of us goes our own way.»
«Are you giving me an ultimatum?»
«I’m offering a choice.»
Footsteps sounded outside the door—Polina Kirillovna was coming to check if everything was alright. Rita slammed the suitcase shut.
«You have time to think,» she said. «But I’ve already made my decision.»
There was a knock at the door.
«Ritonya, Sasha, are you not sleeping? I’ve already planned the nursery and chosen the curtains. And why are you packing?» the mother-in-law exclaimed, peering inside.
Rita and Sasha looked at each other across the room. Somewhere deep in the apartment, a clock struck ten.
«Mom, we’re a bit busy,» Sasha stood between his mother and the suitcase. «We’ll discuss everything tomorrow, okay?»
«What do you mean, tomorrow?» Polina Kirillovna stepped decisively into the room.
She froze, staring at the open suitcase. A heavy silence hung in the air.
«Polina Kirillovna,» Rita straightened her shoulders. «Thank you for caring, but Sasha and I need to make decisions independently.»
«What decisions?» the mother-in-law’s voice rang with metal. «We’re doing everything for you! Giving you housing! And you?»
«And what about me?» Rita looked up. «I want to live my life. Build a family without daily checks and directives.»
«Sasha!» Polina Kirillovna turned to her son. «Do you hear what she’s saying? After everything we’ve done for her!»
Sasha stood between the two women, helplessly shifting his gaze from one to the other. Dmitri Romanovich appeared in the hallway.
«What’s going on here?» he asked from the threshold.
«Rita is packing her things!» Polina Kirillovna blurted out. «Can you believe it? We give them half the apartment, and she!»
«Dmitri Romanovich,» Rita turned to her father-in-law. «I’m grateful to you for the offer. Really. But it’s not what our family needs.»
«And what is needed?» the father-in-law leaned against the door frame. «Enlighten us.»
«The ability to live independently. To make decisions together. To have the right to make mistakes.»
«To mistakes!» Polina Kirillovna threw up her hands. «Sasha, tell her! Explain that she’s wrong!»
But Sasha remained silent. He looked at his wife as if seeing her for the first time.
«I’ve noticed for a long time that something was wrong,» Dmitri Romanovich suddenly said. «Polina, we need to talk. In the kitchen.»
«What’s there to talk about? She’s ungrateful! We give her everything, and she!»
«To the kitchen,» the father-in-law repeated firmly. «Immediately.»
Polina Kirillovna cast one more outraged look at her daughter-in-law and left. Dmitri Romanovich lingered in the doorway.
«You know, Rita,» he said quietly. «I almost lost my wife because of her mother once. But we managed.»
He closed the door behind him. Rita and Sasha were left alone.
«I didn’t know it was so hard for you,» Sasha finally said.
«Really didn’t know?» Rita sat on the edge of the bed. «Remember how we met?»
«In the park. You were rollerblading.»
«And crashed into a lamp post trying to avoid a dog,» Rita smiled weakly. «And you rushed to help me with a pack of tissues.»
«Your nose was all scratched up.»
«And you said I looked like a battle hedgehog. And invited me to a cafe.»
They were silent, reminiscing.
«Sasha,» Rita spoke quietly. «Where did that ease go? When we could rush to concerts in another city? When we decided everything together?»
«We’ve grown up.»
«No. We just stopped being ourselves.»
Voices from the kitchen reached them, muffled. Polina Kirillovna was passionately arguing something, Dmitri Romanovich responded calmly and firmly.
«I have an interview the day after tomorrow,» Rita said. «At that agency. I’ll take leave from work and go. It’s up to you whether you come with me.»
«And if I refuse?»
«Then we have different paths.»
Sasha approached the window. Rain began outside, drops drumming on the glass.
«I remember another rain,» he said, not turning around. «When we first started dating. A storm started suddenly, and we were in the amusement park. Soaked to the bone.»
«And went to my place to drink hot tea,» Rita picked up. «And then talked all night.»
«What did we talk about then?»
«About the future. How we would live. Build careers. Raise children.»
«Together.»
«Yes, Sasha. Together. Not with your parents. Not under their control. Just together.»
Sasha turned to her.
«I really thought I was doing what’s best,» he said. «Our own place, no rent. Parents nearby.»
«Parents too nearby,» Rita shook her head. «Every step we take is under control. Every decision needs to be coordinated. That’s not life, Sasha. That’s a cage.»
Something fell in the kitchen, clinked. Polina Kirillovna’s voice rose to piercing notes:
«They’re ungrateful! We do everything for them, and they!»
«Enough,» Dmitri Romanovich’s calm voice sounded. «Let them decide for themselves.»
«Decide? What does she understand! Thinks it’s easy to buy an apartment now? To find a job? To settle in a new city?»
«Polina, stop.»
Rita approached the door and closed it more tightly. Returned to the suitcase.
«You know what’s most offensive?» she asked, packing her clothes. «Three months ago we had plans. Remember? We wanted to save for a down payment. Find an apartment in a new area. Set it up our way.»
«But it’s easier this way,» Sasha objected. «Parents are helping.»
«Helping?» Rita paused. «No, Sasha. They’re not helping. They’re deciding for us. Controlling us. These are different things.»
She pulled out her favorite sweater—the one Polina Kirillovna had called «tasteless»—and placed it in the suitcase.
«Remember how we chose it?» Rita asked. «At that little shop near the metro. You said it felt like a hug.»
Sasha nodded. He watched as his wife packed, and his eyes showed bewilderment.
«And now? Now I can’t even wear it. Because your mom thinks it’s inappropriate. And you stay silent.»
«I didn’t want conflicts.»
«Exactly. You didn’t want conflicts so much that you allowed us to be erased. Turned into a convenient version of ourselves. A version that is satisfied with everything and doesn’t want to change.»
Footsteps sounded again. The door swung open—Dmitri Romanovich stood in the doorway.
«Sasha,» he said. «We need to talk. Now.»
Sasha looked uncertainly at Rita.
«Go,» she nodded. «I still have things to do.»
As the men left, Rita pulled out her phone. Opened her email, found the letter from the agency. «We look forward to meeting you in person. Tuesday, 14:00.»
Three days. She had three days to change everything.
From behind the wall, in the father-in-law’s office, a conversation began. Rita didn’t listen to the words—she continued packing. Each T-shirt, each book—like a page from their story with Sasha.
There was the notebook in which they planned a trip to Georgia. It didn’t happen—Polina Kirillovna insisted on the cottage. There was a photo from their first date—awkward, funny, real. There were tickets from a concert of their favorite band—the last concert they went to before moving in with the parents.
Rita sat on the bed, holding these treasures of their former life. Free, a bit careless, but so genuine.
There was a quiet knock at the door.
«Come in,» Rita said.
Polina Kirillovna appeared at the threshold. She looked unusually flustered.
«May I sit?» Polina Kirillovna asked in an unusually quiet voice.
Rita nodded, moving aside. Her mother-in-law carefully sat on the edge of the bed.
«You know,» she began, smoothing a crease on her skirt, «when we just got married, Dimka’s mother lived with us. In this very apartment.»
Rita looked up in surprise. In three years of knowing the family, she had never heard about this.
«I was young, foolish,» Polina Kirillovna continued. «Wanted to do everything my way. And my mother-in-law, Anna Pavlovna, kept everything under control. What to cook, how to clean, when to do laundry.»
She paused, looking at her hands.
«And what happened?» Rita asked quietly.
«I packed my things. Just like you are now. Dimka worked late, I wrote a note and left to a friend’s.»
«And then?»
«Then Dimka came for me. In the middle of the night. We talked until morning, and a week later we found a small apartment in the neighboring area. Anna Pavlovna was offended, didn’t speak to us for a month.»
Polina Kirillovna turned to her daughter-in-law:
«But then everything settled down. She understood that we needed to live our own life. And even helped us—but no longer tried to command.»
Silence filled the room. The noise of the evening city reached from outside.
«I didn’t want to be like her,» Polina Kirillovna suddenly said. «Didn’t want to control. Just afraid that you would make mistakes. That it would be hard.»
«And how will we learn if we don’t make mistakes?» Rita asked. «How will we understand what’s right for us?»
The mother-in-law stood up, approached the window.
«You’re right,» she said unexpectedly. «Dimka reminded me of our story today. Said we’re doing the same thing we once ran from ourselves.»
Footsteps sounded—the men returned. Sasha looked thoughtful but determined. Dmitri Romanovich remained in the doorway.
«Rita,» Sasha began. «I’ve thought a lot. And talked with my father.»
He approached his wife, took her hands:
«Let’s go to the interview together. I’ll take time off work.»
«And what about the apartment? The documents?» Rita couldn’t believe her ears.
«Mom, dad,» Sasha turned to his parents. «Thank you for the offer. But we must cope on our own.»
Polina Kirillovna opened her mouth to object, but Dmitri Romanovich placed a hand on her shoulder.
«Of course, they must,» he said. «But if it’s really hard—we’re nearby. Not to dictate, but to support.»
Tears streamed down Rita’s cheeks. Sasha hugged her tightly.
«Forgive me,» Polina Kirillovna said quietly. «I didn’t mean to ruin everything.»
She stepped towards the young couple:
«When you’re looking for an apartment in the new city, call us. Not for advice—just tell us how you are.»
Rita looked up at her mother-in-law. For once, she spoke not in a mentoring tone, but humanely, warmly.
«Thank you,» Rita sincerely replied.
Dmitri Romanovich cleared his throat:
«Well, how about a cup of tea? And tell us about this agency. What kind of job is it?»
They went to the kitchen—together, but differently now. Not as controllers and the controlled, but as family members learning to respect each other’s boundaries.
Rita caught her husband’s gaze and smiled. Ahead lay the unknown—a new city, a new job, looking for housing. But now they were a team again. They were themselves again.
