The morning began with Sergey facing yet another mishap: his electric kettle malfunctioned, or rather, it burned out because he accidentally placed it on the stove. It’s worth noting that Sergey is a 30-year-old man holding two degrees.
“So what now?” he muttered, scratching his head guiltily, while Tatiana tried to restrain her urge to snap back sharply. “We’ll just buy a new one, no big deal…”
“Of course, we will. Using my money, as usual,” Tatiana said, slamming the cupboard door a little louder than necessary.
This snapshot reflected their everyday life: a rented apartment in a panel building, the persistent scent of cats in the stairwell, and ongoing neighbor renovations. Sergey’s salary was average, while Tatiana, fortunately, had recently managed to elevate her career by landing a well-paying job with bonuses. However, this financial uplift brought along fresh family obligations.
Later that evening, Galina Ivanovna, Sergey’s mother-in-law, arrived wearing a coat from another era but carrying herself like a bank director. As soon as she stepped inside, she remarked sharply, “Oh, Tanechka, why is the hallway so dirty? Don’t you ever wipe it down?” Raising her eyebrows, she removed her boots with a heavy sigh.
Tatiana forced a smile that tensed her cheek. Calmly, she replied, “We cleaned just yesterday. Maybe your eyesight is failing?” Sergey, as usual, pretended not to hear, eyes glued to the television — a classic male tactic to mentally escape.
But Galina Ivanovna’s visit had a purpose beyond a simple living standard check.
“Son, why are you just sitting there? Make some tea. Oh, wait, the kettle…” Her gaze shifted to the charred appliance on the stove. “I always knew your hands caused trouble.”
Sergey shrugged awkwardly, while Tatiana’s irritation simmered but remained unspoken.
“Here’s the thing, kids,” the mother-in-law began as she settled into a chair, “our Lenochka — that’s Sergey’s younger sister — wants to go to the seaside. She’s 25, exhausted, and in need of a break. But money is tight for her right now. You understand, don’t you?”
Tatiana froze mid-sip, struggling to grasp the suggestion.
“Wait,” she cautiously asked, “you’re seriously expecting us to fund Lena’s vacation?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Galina Ivanovna responded, as if it were as ordinary as milk. “You’re earning well now, Tanya. I’m genuinely happy for you. But family means supporting each other.”
Tatiana clenched her teeth. “Family,” she thought bitterly — the same family that labeled her a freeloader two years ago when she was still a student earning little. Suddenly, it had become “all of us together.”
“Mom, maybe Lena can earn her own money?” Sergey suggested quietly, but his voice barely carried.
“Are you crazy? She’s a girl! And as her brother, you must support her!” Galina Ivanovna’s tone became sharp. “Or does your wife object?”
All eyes turned to Tatiana, who suddenly felt a snap inside her.
“What does this have to do with me?” she asked, voice even. “These are your family matters. But I have no intention to support an adult woman who refuses to work.”
A tense pause followed, heavy with impending conflict.
“So that’s how it is. I thought you accepted me as family. But no… You’re sitting on money and being stingy. What a disgrace!”
Tatiana burst into laughter — a harsh, almost hysterical sound breaking the tension.
“Family? From day one, you’ve picked on me! Everything was wrong: my cooking, my clothes, even that I ‘stole’ your son from the family. And now I’m supposed to finance a vacation? No way.”
Sergey twitched as if wanting to intervene but didn’t manage.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m your husband’s mother!” Galina Ivanovna shouted, jumping up.
“And so what?” Tatiana also stood, trembling slightly but holding her ground. “Being your son’s wife doesn’t mean you dictate my life or my finances!”
Suddenly throwing his hands on his knees, Sergey loudly exclaimed, “Enough! Mom, you’re going too far. Tanya’s right: Lena is an adult who should solve her own problems.”
Silence engulfed the room. Galina Ivanovna looked at her son as if he had betrayed her.
“I see,” she hissed. “Your wife has you wrapped around her finger. You’re no son to me anymore — just a doormat. Tanya, you’ll regret this.”
Then she slammed the door, causing plaster to fall from the ceiling.
Tatiana sank slowly onto the couch, heart pounding and palms sweaty.
“Well, congratulations,” she sighed, “our first big family war is declared.”
Sergey sat quietly beside her, lighting a cigarette — something he usually never did at home.
The following day, when Tatiana returned from work, an ominous silence filled the apartment. Even the television, normally Sergey’s constant companion, was off.
In the hallway, their gray suitcase with a broken zipper stood out conspicuously, a sleeve of her blouse draped over its edge.
“What’s this?” Tatiana demanded without removing her coat.
Galina Ivanovna emerged from the room, once again seemingly possessing the apartment key Sergey had naively handed over “just in case.”
“This, Tanya,” she cooed, “is your stuff. Sergey and I decided you need some time to think. To rest, so to speak.”
Dizziness washed over Tatiana.
“Are you insane? This is my apartment! Well, technically not mine, but I pay for it!”
Sergey sat on the couch, his face pale as a sheet.
“Tanya, don’t misunderstand. Mom… she’s just worried.”
“Worried?!” Tatiana threw off her coat and flung it onto the floor. “What kind of circus is this?!”
“Don’t shout,” Sergey winced.
“I will shout!” she snapped, kicking the suitcase hard with her boot. “Did you really pack my things, woman?”
“Yes,” the mother-in-law said calmly, straightening her collar. “I’m a responsible woman and got it done quickly. Your things are all mixed up, but that’s not my problem.”
“Oh God,” Tatiana laughed nervously, her teeth aching from tension. “Do you seriously think I will leave?”
“Where else would you go?” Galina Ivanovna smirked disdainfully. “You have nothing here. No apartment, and no husband if he ever grows a brain. Your happiness hangs by a thread.”
Startled, Sergey stood up.
“Mom, stop!”
“Quiet!” she barked. “Without me, you’d have been lost as a child! I raised you! And now this… this impudent woman runs the show!”
Tatiana stood trembling, her chest burning with rage.
“Listen,” she finally said slowly, each word hard-won, “I’m not an impudent woman. I’m your son’s wife. And if you ever touch my belongings again, I will report you to the police. Are you aware of the law on unauthorized actions?”
Galina Ivanovna recoiled but quickly composed herself.
“You’re rude! You threaten me?”
“I am,” Tatiana asserted firmly, “and that’s putting it mildly.”
A long pause followed; the sound of a neighbor’s drill echoed faintly through the walls.
Sergey’s eyes flitted between his wife and mother. Finally, he grabbed the suitcase and pushed it back into the corner.
“Enough! Mom, leave.”
“What?!” she gasped, breathless. “You’re kicking me out? Your own mother?”
“Yes,” he said quietly but decisively. “Leave while we can still talk calmly.”
Galina Ivanovna paled.
“I understand now. She’s bewitched you, turned you against your family. Just wait, son. What goes around comes around.”
She left, door slamming loudly behind her.
Tatiana slumped onto the couch and hid her face in her hands.
“I can’t believe this… This is madness.”
Sergey sat beside her and said hoarsely, “Tanya, I’m sorry. I should never have given her the key.”
“Do you realize she really tried to throw me out? Did you see her? To her, I’m nobody.”
“I saw everything,” he sighed wearily. “I understood.”
They sat in silence. Tatiana’s hands trembled, and to distract herself, she picked up her phone. Five missed calls from Lena awaited her.
She returned the call.
“Tanya, you’re unbelievable!” Lena’s voice was shrill with fake hurt. “Mom is crying! You kicked her out! Don’t you have any shame?”
“Lena,” Tatiana replied sweetly enough to feel disgusted herself, “I suppose conscience runs in your family like an inheritance. Unfortunately, it skipped me.”
“Oh, so that’s how it is?!” Lena screeched. “You’re nothing without us! A gray mouse living off our money!”
“Our money?!” Tatiana nearly dropped the phone. “These are my funds you’re living off!”
“We’ll see who’s using whom,” Lena said coldly, then hung up.
Tatiana dropped the phone on the sofa.
“Sergey, I can’t do this anymore. Either we end this and live separately, or I pack and leave.”
He lifted his head, and for the first time, Tatiana noticed a spark of something new — determination — in his eyes.
“Don’t go,” he whispered. “I’ll be the one to end it.”
In that moment, Tatiana truly believed he might be capable of more than just watching TV all day.
The week passed quietly. The phone was silent, and no one forced their way through the door. Even the neighbors noticed.
- “Where’s your mother gone?” Uncle Slava from apartment three chuckled while smoking in the hallway.
Tatiana cherished the calm but understood it was temporary. In families like theirs, peace only precedes the next storm.
On Friday evening, as she kicked off her heels and dreamed of a shower, a knock shattered the silence. Sergey opened the door and froze.
Lena stood there, wearing a short puffer jacket and bright red lipstick, with an expression as if she came to deliver a verdict. Behind her, Galina Ivanovna appeared, dressed in mourning — a black coat and a sorrowful face.
“Well, let’s talk,” Lena said lazily as she stepped inside.
Tatiana followed into the hallway.
“Go ahead,” she said.
“Mom and I thought,” began Lena, fixing her hair, “since you’re so wealthy and independent, maybe you could share? At least with Mom. She deserves it! She sacrificed her life for you, and you…”
“She sacrificed her life for me?” Tatiana squinted. “I think I’m a stranger here.”
“You’re not,” Galina Ivanovna interjected. “You owe us. Being part of this family means helping out.”
“Owe?!” Tatiana raised her voice. “I owe taxes and mortgage payments. Nothing else.”
Lena rolled her eyes.
“It’s because of people like you families fall apart. You live off others’ money like a brood hen. And Mom has high blood pressure and needs expensive medication.”
Tatiana felt a pounding in her temples.
“But you have a father, right?” she said coldly. “Or is he just furniture?”
Lena’s face flushed crimson.
“You bitch…”
“Enough!” Sergey shouted, standing between them. “I said: no more money, no more demands. Live your way, but leave us alone.”
Mother and daughter froze.
“Sergey, what are you doing?” Galina Ivanovna groaned. “You’re betraying us!”
“No, Mom,” he replied firmly, “I’m choosing my family. Tanya.”
Thick silence settled.
Then Lena exploded:
“Just so you know, you don’t even own an apartment; that’s all Tanya! Without her, you’d be living in a dorm! Who are you then? Nobody!”
Sergey remained silent. Suddenly, Tatiana stepped forward and said flatly,
“Better to be nobody than live forever leeching off others.”
It was a blow. Galina Ivanovna twitched; Lena bit her lip. Without drama or slammed doors, they turned and left silently.
After the door closed, Tatiana breathed deeply for the first time in years of marriage.
Sergey sank onto the sofa and hid his face.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I realize everything’s over. They’ll never forgive us.”
Tatiana sat beside him.
“Let them not forgive. At least now we’re free.”
For the first time in a long while, she felt she had made the right choice.
The story ends not with tears, but relief. Sometimes, survival means cutting away a toxic family part, like a tumor, or risk being consumed whole.