Two years ago, I married Misha, and although we shared a deep connection, I always knew we would face challenges along the way. One of those challenges was his mother, Ekaterina Semyonovna, who never seemed to understand our need for space. Since our wedding, she had been calling him constantly, claiming she missed him. While I understood her attachment to her only son, her constant interference was starting to strain our relationship.
We had been married for a year and a half, and although we weren’t rushing to start a family, we had hoped to save up for our own place. In the meantime, we lived in a cozy rented apartment, which was perfectly fine for the time being. Misha had suggested moving to his mother’s house in another city, but I flatly refused.
I had just secured an internship at a large company, which eventually led to a well-paying job. With my salary, we could afford our own place, and Misha stopped bringing up the idea of moving to his mother’s. However, Ekaterina Semyonovna couldn’t come to terms with the fact that her only child had moved away after getting married. She continued calling Misha every chance she got, even on weekends.
My mother-in-law’s calls didn’t bother Misha, but they drove me crazy. As much as I tried not to interfere, I couldn’t help but feel annoyed by her constant presence in our lives.
Then, something happened that brought my family closer. My grandmother passed away unexpectedly. She had been in good health, and her passing shocked us all. We had always been close, and my mother and I spent a lot of time grieving. After the funeral, we started discussing what to do with my grandmother’s apartment. It needed repairs, but it was spacious, bright, and in a quiet neighborhood. My parents, tired of maintaining their large house, decided to move into my grandmother’s place and sell their home. They also offered me the proceeds to help buy an apartment for Misha and me.
“We’ve lived in a big house for so long. We want something smaller, more manageable,” my father said. “You’re young, you need a place of your own, and we’re happy to help.”
With that, the decision was made. My parents sold their house and began renovating my grandmother’s apartment. I was excited to find our own home, but it wasn’t easy. Misha was busy with work, so I had to take on the responsibility of finding the right place. After two weeks of searching with the help of a realtor, I found a beautiful three-bedroom apartment overlooking a park with chestnut and fir trees.
I was excited to show Misha, but when I asked him to come with me, he seemed distracted. During dinner, he finally admitted something that left me speechless: “I’ve decided to have my mom live in the apartment we were supposed to buy.”
I was stunned. “Misha, your parents have already helped us. We’ve been saving for our own place. What are you talking about?”
“My mom can’t live alone,” he replied. “She misses me, and I need to take care of her.”
I was angry. “What are you suggesting? That we kick my parents out and move her in? Why doesn’t she rent an apartment nearby?”
Misha insisted, “She has a small pension. I’m not a millionaire to pay for her apartment!”
I couldn’t believe it. I had enough. I told Misha that I couldn’t agree to this. He didn’t take it well, and he stormed out of the apartment, packing his things and leaving without a second thought.
That night, I called my mom and told her everything. She was just as shocked and disappointed as I was.
“I never really liked Misha,” my mom said. “But I didn’t expect him to act this way. He doesn’t respect you.”
The next day, I filed for divorce. Misha didn’t try to contact me, and I was relieved. I didn’t want to argue with someone who didn’t respect me. My parents supported me through the entire process. They helped me find a new apartment, and I quickly settled in.
I took the time to focus on myself. I went for morning runs, created handmade jewelry, and spent quality time with my dog, Jack. My life was peaceful, and I learned to enjoy the simple things. I no longer felt the pressure of a marriage that wasn’t right for me. I was proud of my independence and my ability to create a life I loved.
In the end, I realized that happiness comes from within. I didn’t need a man or a complicated relationship to feel complete. I was content with myself, my career, my hobbies, and the love of my family. Life is short, and I was determined to make the most of it.