Polina studied the new curtains. They were a light blue, with a delicate floral design—exactly what she had imagined for the living room. She adjusted the pleats, took a couple of steps back, and smiled, satisfied.
“Sergey, what do you think?” Polina asked, turning to her husband, who was seated in an armchair, absorbed in his phone.
“It’s fine,” Sergey mumbled without looking up.
“Maybe we should have gone for a larger pattern?” Polina hesitated, feeling unsure.
Her husband glanced up briefly, gave a quick look at the window, and shrugged.
“What’s the difference? Curtains are just curtains.”
Polina sighed. Lately, Sergey had been distant, almost as if something was weighing heavily on him. She sat on the edge of the sofa and gently touched his hand.
“Is something wrong? You’ve been acting differently.”
Sergey hesitated, then put his phone down and rubbed his nose.
“Polina, we need to talk,” he said, his voice unusually serious. “Mom’s retiring next week.”
“And?” Polina raised an eyebrow, not understanding.
“Well, she’s going to have a hard time being alone. She’s used to being surrounded by people. Sitting in four walls isn’t something she’s used to.”
Polina tensed, sensing where this conversation was heading.
“I was thinking,” Sergey continued, “maybe she could stay with us for a while? Until she adjusts to the new pace of life.”
Polina clenched her fist. Larisa Arkadyevna, Sergey’s mother, had always been critical of her. Every time they met, she found something to criticize: Polina was too thin, her clothes weren’t appropriate, or she wasn’t taking care of the apartment properly.
“For how long?” Polina asked cautiously.
“Well, a month or two,” Sergey said, spreading his hands. “At most, until autumn.”
“Alright,” Polina agreed after a pause. “But only temporarily.”
“You’re the best!” Sergey hugged his wife impulsively. “Mom will appreciate your kindness.”
A week later, Larisa Arkadyevna arrived with two large suitcases.
“I hope you’ve prepared a room for me,” she stated, looking around the hallway with a critical eye.
“Of course, Mom. The guest room is all yours,” Sergey said, taking the suitcases and carrying them to the room.
Polina forced a tight smile.
“Come in, Larisa Arkadyevna. Would you like some tea?”
“Yes. But no sugar,” her mother-in-law snapped as she walked past Polina. “And take down these hideous floral curtains. They’re giving me a headache.”
Polina bit her lip but said nothing. Just a couple of months, she reminded herself.
But what was supposed to be a couple of months quietly turned into six. Larisa Arkadyevna had settled in, filling the kitchen with jars of her homemade jams and pickles, and moving around the paintings in the living room. She threw away Polina’s favorite decorative pillows, saying they “just collected dust.”
“Sergey, I can’t take this anymore,” Polina whispered late one evening in their bedroom. “Your mom is acting like this is her apartment.”
“She’s just used to being in charge,” Sergey sighed. “You know she’s having a hard time. It’s a difficult age, a crisis.”
“A crisis at sixty?” Polina threw up her hands. “She threw away my collection of porcelain figurines yesterday!”
“She didn’t throw them away; she packed them in a box. They were taking up too much space.”
“In my apartment!” Polina shouted.
“In our apartment,” Sergey corrected.
“The apartment I bought before we got married with the money from selling my grandmother’s place,” Polina reminded him.
Sergey grimaced.
“Let’s not start this conversation. Please, just be patient a little longer.”
Polina turned away and closed her eyes. This conversation, like so many others, was becoming more frequent.
Soon, her mother-in-law’s open criticism began as well.
“You’ve over-salted the food again,” Larisa Arkadyevna huffed, pushing her plate of stewed potatoes aside. “In my time, women were taught to cook properly.”
“In your backward time, women were also married off without being asked,” Polina snapped, instantly regretting her words.
“Sergey! Did you hear how she’s talking to me?” Larisa Arkadyevna turned to her son. “I’m an elderly woman; I deserve respect!”
“Polina, don’t start,” Sergey said wearily. “Mom’s right, we need to show respect to our elders.”
Polina stood up silently, walked to the bedroom, and a knot of resentment tightened in her chest. Not just her mother-in-law, but even Sergey was treating her like a guest in her own home.
The next morning, while getting ready for work, Polina discovered her favorite blouse was missing from her closet.
“Larisa Arkadyevna, have you seen my white blouse?” she asked, peeking into the kitchen.
“That ugly thing? I washed it. You’re washing it all wrong, that’s why it looks like a rag.”
“But I was going to wear it today!” Polina clenched her fists.
“Buy something decent for yourself,” her mother-in-law interrupted. “And at your age, you should dress like a woman, not like a teenager.”
Polina wanted to reply, but just then, Sergey entered the kitchen.
“What’s going on?”
“Your mom took my things without asking!” Polina exclaimed.
“I’m just helping her look presentable,” Larisa Arkadyevna countered. “Sergey, tell her it’s inappropriate for a married woman to wear such revealing things.”
“A white blouse is revealing?” Polina looked at her mother-in-law, stunned.
Sergey held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
“Let’s not argue about a blouse. Polina, wear something else. And you, Mom, next time ask before taking someone else’s things.”
Polina was late for work and felt exhausted all day. She didn’t want to go home. In recent weeks, the apartment had turned into a foreign place where every step she took was met with comments and criticism.
That evening, Polina met her friend Natasha at a café nearby.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Polina confessed, stirring her now-cold tea with a spoon. “She’s turned my life into hell.”
“And Sergey?” Natasha asked.
“Always on his mother’s side,” Polina smiled bitterly. “Do you know what he said yesterday? That I should respect his mother because without her, there would be no him, no us.”
“Maybe you should live separately for a while?” Natasha suggested. “I have a spare room.”
Polina shook her head.
“This is my apartment, Natasha. Why should I leave?”
“Then talk to Sergey seriously. Without hysteria, without accusations. Explain that you’re uncomfortable.”
Polina thought for a moment. Maybe it was worth talking to her husband, calmly and rationally, one last time.
When she returned home, she found Larisa Arkadyevna in her bedroom.
“What are you doing here?” Polina asked, taken aback.
“Making space in the closet,” her mother-in-law replied, rummaging through things. “I have too many clothes for the guest room. Sergey said I could take some of your closet space.”
That was the final straw.
Polina froze in the doorway, watching as Larisa Arkadyevna moved her things around.
“Stop,” she said quietly, but firmly.
Her mother-in-law didn’t even look up.
“Are you bothered by making space for your husband’s mother?” she asked, continuing to rummage through the closet. “What a selfish woman you are.”
“This is my bedroom and my closet,” Polina stepped forward. “Please, leave.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, girl,” Larisa Arkadyevna straightened up and glared down at Polina. “You may be my son’s wife, but you don’t deserve respect.”
“What’s going on here?” Sergey appeared in the doorway, drawn by the raised voices.
“Your mother is going through my things!” Polina pointed to the clothes scattered on the bed.
“I just wanted to hang my things, but your wife had a fit,” Larisa Arkadyevna pursed her lips. “I always knew she didn’t respect family values.”
Sergey sighed tiredly.
“Polina, what’s all this noise about? Mom just asked for a little space.”
“A little space?” Polina grabbed her head. “Sergey, she’s already taken over the guest room, half the kitchen, thrown out my things, rearranged the furniture! Now she’s in our bedroom!”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Sergey waved his hand. “Mom just wants…”
“I don’t care what your mother wants!” Polina interrupted. “This is my apartment! I bought it with my own money before we got married!”
“Starting again?” Sergey frowned. “How much longer are you going to keep bringing this up?”
“I’m not bringing it up!” Polina raised her voice. “But I won’t let anyone treat me like a guest in my own home!”
“See, Sergey?” Larisa Arkadyevna chimed in. “She doesn’t respect me, and she doesn’t respect you. A real woman would never shout at her husband.”
Polina took a deep breath, trying to calm down.
“Sergey, let’s talk alone.”
“So you can turn him against his mother?” Larisa Arkadyevna scoffed. “No, I’m not going anywhere. I have the right to know what’s going on in my son’s family.”
“You have no right to tell me what to do in my house!” Polina shouted. “You were a guest. A temporary guest. Now you’ve become a warden!”
“How are you speaking to my mother?” Sergey was outraged. “Apologize immediately!”
“Apologize?” Polina couldn’t believe her ears. “For defending my space? My life? She was supposed to stay for a couple of months, and now she’s been living with us for half a year!”
“So what?” Sergey crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s my mother, and I’m not going to throw her out into the street.”
“Into the street?” Polina smiled bitterly. “She has her own apartment! A three-bedroom, by the way!”
“In which she doesn’t want to live alone,” Sergey cut her off. “You have no heart, Polina?”
“No heart?” Polina glanced at the clothes scattered across the bed, the open closet, and her mother-in-law’s disgusted expression. “I’ve been putting up with your mother turning my life into a nightmare for six months! Six months of hearing how bad a wife, housekeeper, and daughter-in-law I am!”
“Don’t dramatize,” Sergey grimaced.
“I’m not dramatizing! I can’t and don’t want to do this anymore. Either your mother goes back to her place, or…”
“Or what?” Sergey asked challengingly.
Polina fell silent, not knowing what to say. She had never thought their marriage could fall apart because of a trivial household conflict.
“See, Sergey?” Larisa Arkadyevna triumphantly said. “She doesn’t even know how to threaten properly. A weak, spineless girl. She dares to show character in our house? You need to put her in her place!”
And then something snapped inside Polina. The humiliations she had endured, the silent agreement, the fear of conflict, and the desire to please everyone — it all came crashing down in an instant.
She straightened up and looked directly into her mother-in-law’s eyes.
“No, dear mother-in-law, I bought this apartment before our marriage, so pack your things. Today. I won’t let you torment me in my own home anymore.”
“What did you say?” her mother-in-law was stunned.
“You heard me perfectly. Pack your things and leave.”
“You have no right to throw my mother out!” Sergey shouted.
Polina turned to her husband.
“I do. And I’m doing it. The apartment belongs to me. And I decide who lives in it.”
“I’m your husband!”
“Who never once stood by my side,” Polina said bitterly. “Who watched his mother mistreat his wife and stayed silent.”
“You’re just petty and mean,” Larisa Arkadyevna chimed in. “Poor my boy, he didn’t get lucky with a wife.”
“Yes, he didn’t get lucky,” Polina agreed. “But a real man wouldn’t let his mother treat his beloved woman like this.” She took a deep breath and walked to the door. “You have two hours to pack. Both of you.”
“What?” Sergey was stunned. “Are you kicking me out too?”
“Do you want to stay?” Polina raised an eyebrow. “After all of this?”
Sergey was silent, looking from his mother to his wife.
“Don’t worry, son,” Larisa Arkadyevna interrupted. “We’ll go to my place. You’ll find a normal girl who will respect your mother.”
Polina shook her head and left the room. Surprisingly, there was no pain. Only relief. Like a heavy stone had been lifted from her soul.
Two days later, there was a knock on the door. Sergey stood in the doorway.
“Polina, let’s talk,” he started.
“About what?” Polina crossed her arms. “About how you let your mother humiliate me? Or about how you never once stood up for me?”
“I tried to reconcile everyone,” Sergey said. “But I didn’t succeed.”
“You didn’t even try,” Polina shook her head. “You just went the path of least resistance. Mom shouts — so she has to be accommodated. I stay quiet — so everything’s fine with me.”
“I love you, Polina.”
“Love is not just words,” Polina smiled sadly. “It’s also actions. And you chose your mother, not your wife. I respect your choice, but now respect mine.”
She closed the door and leaned against it. Tears ran down her cheeks, but strength surged through her veins. Polina had taken back her life, her apartment, her dignity.
A week later, she repainted the bedroom walls her favorite lavender color, put the light blue curtains with a small floral pattern back up, and bought new decorative pillows. The apartment was once again her home, her fortress, her corner.
And a month later, Natasha introduced her to Andrei — a calm, self-confident man who listened to her stories about work with interest, valued her opinion, and never interrupted. And most importantly — he had his own apartment, where his mother didn’t live.
Sometimes losses turn out to be the beginning of something new, something better. And Polina was grateful to fate for this lesson. She would never again allow anyone to cross her boundaries. Even for love.