Are you seriously deciding to invite your mom to live with us without my consent?» I blurted out irritably, feeling everything inside boiling with outrage. Andrey froze with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. Outside, a light autumn rain began to fall, droplets tapping on the ledge, creating a tense accompaniment to our conversation. The kitchen, usually cozy and warm in the evenings, now felt cramped and stuffy.
«Olya, let’s not…» he started in his usual soothing tone, which made me want to throw a kitchen towel at him. «Mom is all alone, it’s been hard for her since dad died.» «No, let’s!» I interrupted, sitting down across from him at the table. «We’ve been married for fifteen years, Andrey. Fifteen! And in all this time, you haven’t learned to discuss important decisions with me?»
He set the cup down on the table, and I noticed his fingers trembling slightly. Once, his hands seemed the most reliable in the world. Now, I wanted to move away so he couldn’t see my eyes traitorously glistening. «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 say no to her.»
«We could have helped with the repairs,» I tried to speak calmly, but my voice trembled traitorously. «Hire workers, after all. But living together? Andrey, we have two kids, 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 smirked bitterly. In fifteen years of marriage, I knew his mother well enough. Tatiana Petrovna never missed a chance to hint that I was not a good enough housekeeper, that my borscht was not as rich as hers, and that the curtains in the living room were not hung properly.
«Two months will stretch to six, then a year…» I stood up from the table, feeling like I might break down. «And I will feel like a stranger in my own home. Thanks for at least warning me in advance, not presenting it as a fait accompli on moving day.»
I almost whispered the last words as I left the kitchen. The bedroom was dark and cool—the window had been left open since the morning. I walked to the window, peering into the gray veil of rain. Somewhere in that old five-story building on the other side of town, Tatiana Petrovna was probably already packing her suitcases, imagining how she would «help» us run the household and raise the children.
«Daughter, cutlets should be made like this…» «Olechka, the kids need a schedule, and you have…» «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 saying goodbye. For the first time in fifteen years.
Tatiana Petrovna appeared in our house 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 walked to the window: Andrey was taking two huge suitcases out of the trunk, and his mother, in a light gray coat with her usual hairstyle, surveyed our yard, pursing her lips as if considering what could be improved here.
The kids ran out to meet their grandmother. Mashka and Dimka adored her—of course, she always brought gifts and never scolded them for a mess in the room. I watched as they hung on her from both sides, and she pulled out some packages from her purse…
«My dears!» Tatiana Petrovna’s voice echoed through the yard. «How I’ve missed you! And here are some treats for you, just don’t tell mom—she doesn’t like sweets before dinner…»
I clenched my teeth painfully. It’s starting. 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 brushed him off:
«I can manage, son. You know, I’ve been independent all my life. I raised you alone…»
I stepped away from the window. The pot was boiling with borscht—maybe today it would go without comments about too little carrot and too much beet.
The front door opened, letting in a clamor of voices and the shuffle of feet.
«Olechka!» Tatiana Petrovna, flushed and unusually flustered, stepped into the kitchen. «It smells so good here! And I… well, had to bother you…»
She scanned the kitchen, and I noticed her lips tremble. For a moment, I even felt sorry for her—after all, she’s an elderly woman, used to her own corner, and here…
«Please, Tatiana Petrovna,» I tried to smile. «We’re about to have dinner. Kids, wash your hands!»
«I’ll help set the table,» she bustled about, 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 took a ladle. The main thing—breathe deeply and count to ten.
«Mashenka, honey, sit closer to grandma,» cooed Tatiana Petrovna, arranging plates. «I brought you such a doll—a beauty! Though, mom says you already have too many toys…»
My daughter gave me a guilty look. I demonstratively stirred the borscht, feeling cold sweat run down my back. Two weeks. A month at most. I can handle it. I can cope.
«And where will mom sleep?» Dimka asked curiously, inspecting the suitcases in the hallway.
«In your room, son,» Andrey replied, laying out the cutlery. «You don’t mind staying with your sister?»
Mashka beamed—she had long dreamed of organizing something like an eternal pajama party. And I froze with a ladle in hand. In the children’s room? Seriously? We agreed on the sofa in the living room…
«No-no, what are you thinking!» Tatiana Petrovna waved her hands. «I’ll be perfectly fine in the living room. I don’t want to inconvenience the children…»
But her tone made it clear—she was already eyeing the children’s room, considering how to rearrange the furniture and what curtains to hang. After all, she’s an «experienced mom,» unlike some…
Dinner passed in a strange atmosphere—Tatiana Petrovna questioned the kids about school, throwing sideways glances at me, Andrey diligently kept up the conversation, and I… I counted the minutes until I could retreat to the bedroom and be alone in silence.
«The borscht is very tasty, Olenka,» Tatiana Petrovna suddenly said. «Only, you know, if you added a bit more…»
I noisily pushed the chair away.
«Excuse me, I need to check my email. Work-related,» I added, though no one had asked.
In the hallway, I heard her whisper: «Andryusha, your wife is still so… nervous.»
Two weeks flew by like a fog. In the mornings, I stayed in bed longer, listening to the sounds from the kitchen—the clinking of dishes, the sizzle of oil on the pan, the quiet melody of the radio…
Before, at this time, I myself would be bustling in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, listening to the sleepy snoring of the kids. Now, everything had changed. By eight o’clock, the smell of fresh pastries even penetrated through the closed bedroom door, along with the ringing voice of my mother-in-law, humming some old song.
«Good morning, Olenka!» her voice sounded cloyingly sweet. «I decided to bake pancakes for the kids for breakfast. Dimochka said yesterday that he hadn’t had them for a long time…»
I bit my lip. Of course, he hadn’t—last month was too hectic at work, and I barely managed to whip up something quick.
«And I noticed,» continued my mother-in-law, 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 wolfing down the pancakes, oblivious to how I paled. My cupboard. My kitchen. My life. Everything was gradually slipping from my hands.
«Mom, you didn’t have to,» I tried to speak calmly. «I have my own system…»
«Oh, what system!» she dismissed it. «In my time…»
I didn’t stay to listen, silently took a coffee cup, and went to the bedroom to get ready for work. It became my salvation—the office, where no one commented on every step I took.
In the evening, returning home, I found the kids doing homework in the kitchen. Tatiana Petrovna, presiding at the head of the table, was checking Mashka’s math notebook.
«No-no, granddaughter, that’s not right,» her voice was full of holy patience. «Look, this is how you should do it. Strange that they didn’t explain this at school… And does mom check your homework?»
Mashka guiltily glanced my way: «She checks… sometimes. When there’s time.»
«Exactly, sometimes,» sighed my mother-in-law. «But you need to work with kids constantly. I did homework with Andryusha every day, that’s why he grew up to be…»
«Enough!» I sharply set my bag on the table. «Kids, off to your room. You can do your homework there.»
«But we’re not finished…» Mashka began.
«Finish upstairs!»
When the kids left, I turned to my mother-in-law: «Tatiana Petrovna, let’s come to an agreement. I appreciate your help, but raising children is mine and Andrey’s business.»
«Of course, of course,» she smiled with that smile that always made my teeth grit. «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…»
«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, you’ve only been eating store-bought cakes…»
I silently started unpacking the grocery bag. That same pie, about which Andrey spoke every time I tried to bake something: «Tasty, of course, but mom did it differently…»
«Olya, why are you so gloomy?» my husband tried to hug me, but I pulled away.
«Tired,» I said tersely. «And my head hurts.»
«Maybe you should lie down?» my mother-in-law suggested kindly. «I’ll set the table myself. I’ll also show Andryusha how I rearranged the dishes in the cabinets—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 a family.»
I almost spat out the last word. Climbing the stairs, I heard my mother-in-law say: «Andryusha, why are you so sad? She’s just tired. Let me put more pie on your plate, you love the crust…»
That evening, I packed a bag, and emptiness rang in my head. Automatically, I folded clothes: a T-shirt, jeans, a toothbrush… On top, I placed a laptop—to work in peace. My phone vibrated—a message from Lenka: «Room is ready, come anytime.»
Below, another family dinner rumbled. My mother-in-law’s voice reached the bedroom: «Andryusha, I’ve been thinking… Maybe change the curtains in the living room? These are so gloomy. I saw wonderful ones in the store, with flowers…»
I zipped up the bag. The curtains were chosen by Andrey and me for his last birthday—we wandered around stores all day, argued, laughed. Now it seemed so distant, as if from another life.
«Mom, I’m going to Lenka’s,» I shouted down the stairs. «Need to finish a work project.»
Andrey peeked out of the kitchen: «Now? It’s late…»
«Deadline is burning.»
I deliberately avoided his gaze. I knew—if I looked into his eyes, my resolve would melt like last year’s snow.
«Maybe eat first?» my mother-in-law emerged in the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. «I made your favorite cutlets. A special recipe…»
«Favorite cutlets.» In fifteen years, she never remembered that I don’t eat meat. «Thanks, I’m not hungry.»
The kids spilled into the hallway: «Mom, will you be gone long?» «Will you help with math tomorrow?» «Can I come with you?»
I hugged them both, burying my nose in their familiar crowns. Mashka smelled of caramel shampoo, Dimka—oddly enough, of oranges.
«Mom, why?» my daughter wondered. «It’s like you’re saying goodbye…»
«I just missed you,» I forced a smile. «I’m acting silly, right?»
«Nothing silly,» Dimka clung tighter. «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!» Andrey caught up with me at the entrance. «Wait, I’ll drive you.»
«No need,» I shook my head. «I’ll walk, think.»
«About what?»
I finally looked him in the eyes. How many times over the years did I find support, love, understanding in them… And now—only confusion and something else, elusive. Fear?
«About us,» I took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremble in my 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 mom isn’t just living with us, Andrey. She’s erasing everything we’ve built over the years, step by step. And the worst part—you don’t even notice it. About how I no longer feel like the mistress of this house. A wife. A mother.»
«You’re exaggerating,» he tried to take my hand. «Mom just wants to help…»
«No,» I pulled away. «I’m not exaggerating. You know what’s the scariest? I’ve started to hate my own home. The place where I should feel happy.»
«And what do you suggest?»
«Nothing,» I shrugged. «Just want to be alone. Think. Maybe you’ll think too.»
I turned and walked down the alley, not looking back. Streetlights cast long shadows, somewhere in the distance a dog barked. In the window of our apartment, the light was on—probably Tatiana Petrovna was putting the kids to bed. In her own way, of course. Not as they were used to. Not as I did.
The phone in my pocket vibrated again. «Where are you? Tea is getting cold,» Lenka wrote.
«Coming,» I replied, wiping away treacherous tears.
All the way to my friend’s house, I imagined how Andrey would return home, how his mother would comfort him with her signature pie, how she would explain that I had always been too emotional, not suited for family life…
Maybe now, left alone with this situation, he would finally see what I had been trying to explain all these weeks. Maybe he would think about what a family is—not just a mother, but also a wife and children. And that sometimes you have to make a choice.
The bus started moving, taking me away from the home where I left part of my heart. I wonder if Andrey has enough wisdom to understand that I left not him, but the situation he created? And do I have enough strength to wait for this understanding?
Three days at Lenka’s apartment stretched like eternity. I worked remotely, called the kids, and tried not to think about what was happening at home. But my thoughts still returned there, to the familiar walls, to the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the mornings, to the children’s laughter…
The phone rang on the evening of the fourth day. «Mom» flashed on the screen—Tatiana Petrovna insisted I save her number that way in the first year of marriage.
«Olechka,» her voice sounded unusually quiet. «We need to talk.»
I stayed silent, fiddling with the edge of my T-shirt.
«You know,» she continued after a pause, «when Andryusha’s father died, it seemed like my life was over. I clung to my son, to memories… To my habits. They gave me strength, helped me not break down.»
She sighed intermittently: «Then this pipe incident happened, and I… I got scared of being completely alone. Clung to the chance to be near my son, my grandchildren. Didn’t think about you. About how I was invading someone else’s life.»
«Tatiana Petrovna…»
«No, let me finish,» her voice trembled. «Yesterday, Andrey yelled at me for the first time. 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. Everything in this house is important to Olya, every item has its place and its story. And you…'»
I closed my eyes, imagining the scene. Andrey, always calm, rational—and suddenly yelling at his mother…
«He’s right,» Tatiana Petrovna said quietly. «I was like trying to erase you from this house. Replace myself. Forgive me if you can.»
Silence hung on the line. Somewhere in the background, music played—probably Mashka had turned on her favorite playlist.
«I found an apartment,» my mother-in-law suddenly said. «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 my children’s grandmother,» I involuntarily smiled. «And my husband’s mother.»
«Thank you,» she exhaled. «You know, Andryusha found the apartment. He said, ‘Mom, you need to live nearby, but not with us. So we can see each other often, but everyone keeps their space.'»
At that moment, someone rang the doorbell. Andrey stood on the threshold—haggard, unshaven, with guilty eyes.
«Olya,» he stepped into the room. «I understood everything. Forgive me. I thought I was doing what was best, but actually…»
I pressed a finger to his lips: «Quiet. I know. Your mom just called.»
«I missed you,» he pulled me close. «Home without you… it’s not home.»
«And the kids?»
«Mashka declared she’d go on a hunger strike if you didn’t return,» he smiled. «And Dimka said he’d move in with you too.»
I leaned against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent: «I missed you too. All of you.»
«Shall we go home?» he stepped back, looking into my eyes. «Mom’s already packing. She said she needs to prepare the apartment for renovation.»
«For renovation?»
«I found her a place nearby,» he hesitated. «I hope you don’t mind? She’s still alone, and…»
«I don’t mind,» I shook my head. «Just let’s agree: the next important conversation you start not with ‘I decided’ but with ‘let’s discuss it.'»
«I promise,» he smiled and pulled out the car keys. «Shall we go? The kids are waiting.»
Returning home felt… strange. Tatiana Petrovna greeted us with tears in her eyes, the kids clung to me, chattering about school news. And I stood in the hallway, surveying the familiar walls, thinking that sometimes you need to leave to return. And that love is not only the ability to be together but also the wisdom to give each other freedom.
In the evening, sorting through the bedroom, I found our wedding album—right where it had always been. On the first page was our favorite photo: us laughing, looking at each other, while white doves soared behind us in the sky.
«I put it back,» 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 with the album for a long time, turning the pages of our story—a story that had room for everyone. Just everyone—on their own.
