Standing by the window in her modest three-room apartment, Svetlana gazed out at the city lights glowing in the evening. She had purchased this home with her own hard-earned savings long before meeting Andrey. Year after year, diligently working twelve-hour shifts, she carefully set aside every penny, dreaming of a place where she could feel free and independent. At that time, this apartment symbolized liberation and self-reliance. Now, it felt more like a prison, with walls that seemed to close in tighter each passing day.
“Sveta, Mom called,” Andrey’s voice came from the hallway. “She said they’re facing serious troubles.”
Svetlana turned sharply. A pang of anxiety gripped her heart. Three years of marriage had honed her ability to decipher every nuance in her husband’s voice. Now, she detected a forced politeness that barely concealed discomfort and guilt.
“What kind of problems?” she asked, already suspecting the answer.
Without meeting her eyes, Andrey entered the room, his hands clutching the phone nervously—a clear sign the matter was grave.
“Remember the real estate project my parents invested in?” he began, sounding defensive. “Well, it collapsed. The company went bankrupt, and they had to mortgage the apartment.”
A heavy silence filled the space, thick as fog. Svetlana sank slowly onto the sofa, striving to grasp the reality before her. Andrey’s parents had always appeared prudent, but apparently, the desire for quick wealth had overridden caution.
“Now they have nowhere to live,” Andrey finished, finally looking at her. “Sveta, I understand your feelings, but they’re my parents. I can’t just let them end up on the streets.”
“This is my apartment,” Svetlana murmured, voice trembling as certainty wavered.
“I know, darling, I know!” Andrey sat beside her, taking her hands. “Just for two months, no longer! Until they get back on their feet. Dad is already job hunting, Mom plans to help too. Two months tops—I promise!”
Looking into his pleading eyes, Svetlana realized she had already lost. She could not refuse the man she loved, despite knowing this step might change everything.
“Alright,” she exhaled. “But only for two months.”
“Of course!” Andrey breathed a sigh of relief and embraced her. “You’re the best! They won’t even bother you, honestly!”
Half a year passed. Now Svetlana sat in the kitchen, which no longer felt like her own. Exhaustion had seeped into every cell, a dull throbbing pain pulsating at her temples. Living with her husband’s parents for six months had turned her existence into endless stress.
Memories flooded in relentless waves. On the very first day, mother-in-law Galina Petrovna rearranged every dish in the cupboards.
“Svetocha, how can you store things so inconveniently?” she said with a fake smile. “Look: plates here, cups here. Makes more sense!”
Svetlana kept silent. Yet this was only the beginning. Gradually, Galina Petrovna took over everything: the living room curtains “didn’t match the décor,” the bedroom rug was “too dusty,” and Svetlana’s flowers “were in the way.”
Another memory: after a grueling day at work, Svetlana arrived home utterly drained. The apartment smelled burnt. In the kitchen, Galina Petrovna commanded like a ship captain on deck.
“Ah, Sveta’s here!” she exclaimed. “Set the table quickly. The men will be home soon, and the salad isn’t ready yet!”
“Galina Petrovna, I just walked in,” Svetlana replied weakly. “Could I at least change first?”
“No time!” waved off the mother-in-law. “Chop the cucumbers while I fry the cutlets. And wipe the crumbs off the table!”
Obediently, Svetlana fulfilled the orders. In her own apartment, she had been reduced to a servant. Meanwhile, father-in-law Viktor Ivanovich never addressed her directly.
“Andrey, tell your wife to turn off the TV,” he stated matter-of-factly, sitting a mere two steps away.
“Galina, ask her where the remote for the air conditioner is,” he told his wife, ignoring Svetlana’s presence.
Andrey either failed to notice—or refused to acknowledge—this humiliation.
“Sveta, why are you getting upset?” he said when she attempted to raise concerns. “Mom’s just trying to help. And Dad—he’s been like this since childhood.”
No one mentioned asking the parents to leave. They had made themselves at home, as if planning to stay forever.
Svetlana snapped back to the present. Her phone buzzed with a bank notification. Opening the app, she froze. Her account balance showed nine and a half million rubles: inheritance from a beloved aunt, the paperwork for which had taken months. After taxes, a vast sum remained.
Mesmerized by the digits, Svetlana realized this fortune could buy a new apartment, start fresh elsewhere. Thoughts raced through her mind just as Galina Petrovna entered the kitchen.
“Svetocha, you’re distracted,” came the mother-in-law’s voice as she sat too close.
Svetlana quickly locked her phone, but it was too late—Galina had glimpsed the screen.
“Just some business,” she said evasively.
“Business, business,” Galina Petrovna murmured. “I’ve wanted to talk for a while now. We’re family now, right? We should stick together, help one another.”
A shiver ran down Svetlana’s spine. Galina never began conversations like this without reason.
“Family is the most important thing,” continued the mother-in-law, her tone syrupy. “We must share everything—joys and hardships alike. Especially in tough times. Mutual support is what binds us.”
Svetlana silently stared, bracing for the expected blow.
“Galina Petrovna, what are you implying?” she asked directly.
“Nothing special, dear,” responded Galina, flashing her signature smile. “Just a reminder: we’re very close now. Very close indeed.”
That evening, Galina Petrovna outdid herself. The table was lavishly set as if for an anniversary: salads in crystal bowls, hot dishes on silver platters, even a surprise cake appeared. Candles flickered, the tablecloth shone freshly ironed, and the finest china was displayed. Svetlana watched warily, sensing a growing tension in her chest.
“Are we celebrating something?” Andrey asked while settling at the table.
“Just wanted to treat family!” Galina Petrovna exclaimed cheerfully. “We rarely gather like this for a proper dinner.”
The entire evening, Galina talked incessantly. She praised family sanctity, unbreakable bonds, duty, and the importance of unity—helping each other share happiness and sorrows. Viktor Ivanovich nodded in agreement, Andrey smiled, but Svetlana’s suspicion tightened like a coil inside her.
“Enough!” she snapped when Galina mentioned “family solidarity” yet again. “Stop hinting. Say plainly—what do you want?”
Silence fell heavy. Galina theatrically frowned, feigning hurt, but a triumphant gleam sparkled in her eyes.
“What hints, Svetocha?” she started, only to be interrupted.
“No games,” Svetlana said firmly. “I’ve heard enough all evening. Just say what you need.”
Galina paused, savoring the moment before slowly smiling.
“I noticed the money arrived in your account,” she announced coolly, as if stating an undeniable fact. “Since we’re family now, the inheritance should be split evenly.”
Svetlana froze; the words barely registered. Encouraged by her shock, Galina pressed on.
“Nearly two and a half million each—for you, Andryusha, and for Viktor and me. Fair, isn’t it? Everyone equals in a family! Nobody gets hurt; all will be happy!”
Viktor Ivanovich grunted approvingly. Andrey remained silent but regarded his wife expectantly as though truly endorsing the idea.
A fiery rage ignited within Svetlana. She jumped up sharply; the chair crashed to the floor.
“Have you lost all shame?” she hissed, voice trembling with fury. “You live in my apartment that I bought with my own sweat! You eat my food, use my home, I pay the bills and groceries—and now you think you can claim my money too?”
“Sveta, don’t shout,” Andrey tried to intervene, but she whirled around and silenced him.
“Be quiet!” she shouted. “You promised two months! Two! But it’s been half a year! Your parents have taken over my home, treat me like a servant, and now want my inheritance?”
“How dare you speak to your parents that way!” Viktor Ivanovich finally addressed her directly for the first time.
“And how do you talk to me?” Svetlana retorted. “You don’t speak to me at all! I’m invisible, a free housemaid! Now I’m just a source of income?”
“Sveta, calm down—Mom just suggested…” Andrey began.
“Suggested?” Bitter laughter escaped Svetlana, silencing everyone. “She’s already divided it all! Decided how to spend my money!”
“We’re family!” Galina Petrovna exclaimed. “In a family, everything is shared!”
“Family?” Svetlana scanned them coldly. “You’re parasites! You’ve latched onto me like leeches, draining everything: first the home, now the money! What’s next—splitting my salary?”
- Living space taken over
- Constant humiliation
- Claims on her inheritance
- Broken promises
Her words poured out like an unstoppable avalanche, releasing months of silent suffering and indignities.
“Get out!” she yelled. “All of you—out of my apartment!”
“Sveta, you can’t…” Andrey tried again, but she grabbed her wallet, flung five thousand rubles on the table.
“For a hotel. One night only. So you won’t be here tomorrow morning.”
Through the night, Svetlana silently packed their belongings. Anger and determination fueled her efforts. Robes, shirts, shoes—all their things—went into bags and boxes. Even Andrey’s possessions were not spared.
The next morning, they stood in the hallway. Svetlana carried the last box, avoiding their eyes.
“Sveta, let’s talk!” Andrey shouted.
“Svetocha, why are you doing this?” Galina Petrovna pleaded. “We’re family!”
Svetlana slipped off her wedding ring and tossed it at her husband’s feet.
“I’m filing for divorce tomorrow,” she said calmly—without tears or shouting. “I don’t need dependents like these. Not as relatives. Nor as a husband.”
The door slammed. Behind it came shouts, accusations, and threats. Svetlana sank slowly to the floor, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes.
For the first time in six months, she was truly home.
In her own home.
Alone.
And free.
Key Insight: This story illustrates the complex dynamics and challenges that arise when boundaries between family support and personal space are blurred, highlighting the importance of respect and clear limits in close relationships.
In conclusion, Svetlana’s experience reveals how quickly goodwill can be exploited and how crucial it is to assert one’s rights firmly. Her decision to reclaim her independence underscores the value of self-respect and courage against familial pressure. While love and duty hold significance, they should never come at the expense of one’s dignity and personal freedom.