Lilia was quietly putting away her young son Maksim’s clothes into the dresser late one autumn evening when the front door suddenly slammed with an unusual force. Maksim, only five years old, had already fallen asleep peacefully. The woman did her best to remain silent. Outside, the atmosphere was calm and still, disturbed only by the soft rustling of fallen leaves beneath the scarce footsteps of passing pedestrians.
Her husband, Dmitry, entered the hallway abruptly and without a greeting. He swiftly removed his shoes and hung his jacket with a sharp gesture. Observing his face, Lilia immediately sensed that his day had not gone well.
“Did something happen at work today?” she asked, stepping closer to him.
Dmitry moved into the kitchen, switched on the kettle, and only then faced his wife.
“Mom’s coming for the entire summer,” he announced curtly, barely looking at Lilia.
Stopped in her tracks in the hallway, she blinked in disbelief. It was already October, and summer had long passed.
“What summer?” she questioned, confused.
“Next summer,” Dmitry clarified. “Raisa Stepanovna has bought the tickets already. She’ll arrive in May and stay with us until September.”
Slowly, Lilia crossed into the kitchen and took a seat opposite her husband.
“Four months?” she repeated, disbelieving.
“Yes. And there’s more,” Dmitry said while drinking a glass of water in one gulp. “Raisa Stepanovna cannot tolerate you. You and Maksim have to leave. As long as she’s here, you two aren’t welcome.”
Unable to immediately respond, Lilia stood frozen, blinking rapidly. The shock of such a statement made her question whether Dmitry was serious or playing a cruel joke.
“Are you really serious?” she whispered.
“Absolutely,” he affirmed firmly. “Mom does not want to share our home with you. I cannot refuse my own mother.”
A heavy silence descended upon them, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant street noises. From the children’s room came the steady breathing of sleeping Maksim.
Tilting her head slightly, Lilia tried to digest the unexpected declaration. A faint flush crept across her cheeks, signaling rising inner anger.
“This apartment is my home, not a hotel for your mother,” she stated calmly.
Dmitry set down his glass and, for the first time in the conversation, met her gaze directly.
“She is my mother. It is my duty to ensure she lives comfortably,” he asserted.
“At the expense of displacing your wife and son?” Lilia countered.
“You can find somewhere else to stay — your parents’, perhaps.”
Rising from her chair, she walked over to the window, watching the streetlights flicker on and illuminate the deserted courtyard. She recalled purchasing the modest two-room apartment eight years back with her savings alone, while Dmitry was merely an intern at a small firm without the means to afford housing.
“This apartment is mine,” she reminded Dmitry firmly. “And I decide who lives here.”
Dmitry rose as well, bracing himself for a confrontation.
“You’re overlooking parental respect,” he began hesitantly. “Raisa Stepanovna is older and wiser; she has rights—”
“Rights to what exactly?” Lilia interrupted. “To evict the homeowner from her own house?”
“She isn’t evicting you, just asking you to give up space temporarily,” he replied, averting his eyes to the kitchen tiles’ pattern.
“And where does she expect her own grandson and daughter-in-law to live for four months?” Lilia questioned sharply.
“Well… with your parents. Or perhaps rent somewhere else.”
“With my money?”
“Our money,” Dmitry corrected himself.
“My money,” Lilia repeated firmly. “Because your salary barely covers groceries.”
Dmitry fell silent, frustrated and realizing resistance was futile. Indeed, Lilia earned roughly three times more and shouldered the family’s financial responsibilities.
“Raisa Stepanovna already bought her tickets,” Dmitry persisted. “They cannot be canceled.”
“Let her fly then,” Lilia replied coolly. “She can stay at a hotel.”
“How? Her pension is small.”
“That is not my concern.”
Dmitry paced back and forth, restless yet unwilling to continue the argument.
“Lilia, please be reasonable. She’s my mother.”
“And Maksim is your son, and I am your wife,” Lilia reminded him sharply.
“But Raisa Stepanovna is lonely and unwell…” Dmitry muttered.
“Unwell with what?” Lilia inquired skeptically.
“Age… she is seventy.”
“Seventy is an excellent age for traveling and staying in hotels,” she remarked dryly.
A soft whimper echoed from the child’s room — Maksim was awake, as often recently. Lilia went to her son, leaving Dmitry to his thoughts.
“Mom, I had a scary dream,” Maksim whispered when she sat beside his bed.
“What kind of dream, honey?” she asked tenderly.
“Mean uncles were forcing us out of our home.”
Lilia stroked his hair gently. The boy must have overheard the earlier voices.
“No one is going to throw us out,” she reassured. “This is our home.”
Maksim hugged his mother, drifting back to sleep peacefully. Lilia returned to the kitchen, where Dmitry stood near the window.
“The decision is final,” Lilia declared. “Raisa Stepanovna can visit whenever she wishes, but she will stay in a hotel or with her many friends.”
“She has no friends here,” Dmitry objected.
“Then a hotel it is.”
“Lilia, you must understand…” he began.
“I understand that your mother sees me as unworthy of living in my own apartment,” she interrupted him.
Dmitry faced her again.
“Raisa Stepanovna just wants to spend time with her son, without outsiders around.”
“Outsiders?” Lilia raised her eyebrows. “I have been your wife for six years and Maksim is her grandson. Are we outsiders?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“Then what?”
Dmitry grew silent, lacking further arguments as his mother’s recycled claims lacked conviction.
“Fine,” he finally conceded. “I will talk to Raisa Stepanovna. Perhaps we can reach a compromise.”
“What sort of compromise?” Lilia asked.
“Maybe you and Maksim could stay in the large room, and Raisa Stepanovna in the smaller one.”
“So the three of us are supposed to squeeze into one room so your mother can be comfortable?”
“Maksim is small; he doesn’t need much space,” Dmitry said defensively.
Lilia fixed him with a glance that silenced him immediately.
“Another idea,” she suggested. “Raisa Stepanovna visits for two weeks at most—that’s enough to see her son.”
“She bought tickets for four months!”
“She can reschedule.”
“Penalties would be high…”
“Then she can pay those.”
Dmitry sank heavily into his chair.
“She will be furious.”
“And why should that bother me?”
“Lilia, she is an elderly woman and deserves respect.”
“Respect is earned through actions, not by age,” Lilia responded sharply. “What’s respectful about trying to evict your daughter-in-law from her home?”
“We might reach some agreement…” Dmitry pleaded.
“Yes, Raisa Stepanovna can come for two weeks, behave respectfully, and refrain from interfering in our life. No other compromises.”
Dmitry rubbed his forehead, exhausted.
“Let me call her first,” he said. “I’ll explain the situation.”
“What situation?”
“That the apartment belongs to you and you don’t agree to long-term guests.”
“And that I finance the apartment, the bills, groceries, and support the family.”
“Why say that?”
“So that Raisa Stepanovna understands where the power lies.”
Dmitry nodded, lacking enthusiasm for the difficult talk ahead.
“Alright, I’ll call her tonight. The sooner the better,” Lilia insisted.
He glanced at his phone: half past nine. Raisa Stepanovna was likely still awake despite the late hour.
“Okay, I’m dialing now,” he said.
From the next room, Lilia could hear her mother-in-law’s loud voice, clearly startled by the unexpected news.
“I understand you bought tickets, but a problem has arisen,” Dmitry explained quietly.
They spoke for over half an hour, with the mother-in-law repeatedly hanging up only to call back angrily.
“Well?” Lilia asked, once the call ended.
“Bad,” Dmitry admitted. “She doesn’t comprehend the situation. She called me henpecked and claimed you control me.”
“And your response?”
“I told her the apartment belongs to you and you have the right to decide.”
“Then?”
He hesitated, reluctant to continue.
“She said I must choose between my wife and my mother.”
“And your choice?”
“I asked for time to think.”
Lilia nodded silently and went to bed, aware that Dmitry would resume pressuring her soon. His mother’s persistence was daunting.
The next morning, Lilia rose early to the gentle October drizzle outside. Leaves had turned yellow and floated slowly to the ground. Maksim and Dmitry still slept.
Quietly, she fetched a large travel bag and began packing Dmitry’s clothes carefully as though preparing for a routine journey. She placed his documents separately while keeping the apartment keys for herself, laying his keyring atop the clothes.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Maksim asked from the doorway.
“Daddy is going to visit Grandma,” she replied softly. “Help me carry this to the hall.”
Together, they moved the bag toward the front door.
“Are we going too?” Maksim questioned.
“No, honey. We’re staying home.”
“Why is Daddy going alone?”
“It’s better this way for everyone,” she answered gently.
Dmitry woke later and entered the kitchen as Lilia prepared breakfast.
“Good morning,” he mumbled, pouring coffee.
“Mom is waiting for you,” Lilia said steadily, not looking up. “You are going to Raisa Stepanovna’s.”
Dmitry froze, the cup midway to his lips.
“What are you talking about?”
“You chose between your wife and mother. Since you chose your mother, go live with her.”
“Lilia, we agreed—”
“There was no agreement. You gave me an ultimatum: either I leave for four months, or you make your choice. The choice has been made.”
Dmitry stared at the bag by the door, his face pale.
“Where am I going? Raisa Stepanovna only has a one-room apartment.”
“That’s your problem.”
“What about Maksim?”
“He stays with me, in his own home.”
“Family,” Dmitry pleaded.
“A real family protects each other—not evicts their own wife and child to appease the whims of an elder.”
Dmitry buried his face in his hands, regretful.
“Maybe there’s a compromise?”
“Only one: two weeks visit from Raisa Stepanovna, respectful behavior, no interference. No other options.”
“What if she refuses?”
“Then go live with her.”
Dmitry wandered anxiously, pleading.
“Where will I go?”
“To your mother’s. She’ll have you nearby, just as she wanted.”
“But she has limited space.”
“At least she’ll get what she wished for — her son close by.”
Maksim finished breakfast and retreated to play. Lilia watched him and then resumed the difficult conversation.
“You have two choices: call Raisa Stepanovna to set limits to two weeks, or pack up and leave,” she said decisively.
“A third option?” he asked.
“No third options exist.”
Dmitry stopped and looked at her.
“If I refuse?”
“Then I’ll file for divorce. The apartment will remain mine since I bought it before marriage with my money. You’ll pay child support.”
“Destroying the family over this?”
“This isn’t destruction—it’s defending my home and child from toxicity.”
“Raisa Stepanovna isn’t toxic, just difficult.”
“Difficult enough to demand we leave our home?”
“She is old, lonely…”
“She has a son who can visit or even move in with her,” Lilia reminded.
“I cannot quit my job or relocate.”
“And I was supposed to give up mine for four months?”
Dmitry had no answer.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll try calling her again to negotiate the shorter visit.”
“Do it,” Lilia agreed. “Remember—if she insists on the original plan, you move in with her.”
The next phone call was even more heated. Raisa Stepanovna shouted so loud Lilia heard every word from the next room.
“What kind of wife is she? No shame! She won’t let a mother see her son!”
“Mom, the apartment is not mine.”
“Whose then? Your wife’s? Divorce her and come here! We’ll find you a respectful woman!”
“I have a son…”
“We’ll take the boy too! He can live with me, not with her!”
Dmitry ended the call, his face ashen.
“Well?”
“She said either she stays for the whole summer or I divorce you and move in with her.”
“Then pack,” Lilia stated firmly. “I’m staying here with Maksim. You wanted space — now there’s plenty. But for you, not your mother.”
Dmitry sighed deeply and grabbed his bag. She ensured he had all documents and belongings.
“Leave the keys,” she reminded him.
“But…”
“No longer your home,” she interrupted.
Dmitry placed the keys on the cabinet and left. Their elderly neighbor, Aunt Zina, noticed his bag and asked if it was a business trip. He answered vaguely.
Lilia closed the door, locking it. The apartment returned to peaceful silence. She found Maksim playing blocks.
“When will Dad come back?” he asked.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe soon. Maybe not.”
“Will we miss him?”
“Maybe. But we will manage.”
Maksim nodded and resumed playing. Despite the ongoing drizzle outside, the apartment felt warm and comforting.
That evening Dmitry called.
“Lilia, Raisa Stepanovna agreed to two weeks,” he reported in a tired voice.
“Good. Then you can come home,” Lilia replied.
“Really?”
“Of course, on the condition there will be no more ultimatums.”
“There won’t be.”
“And that during her stay, she behaves decently — no interfering with Maksim’s upbringing, no criticizing my cooking, no rearranging the home.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“I’ll expect the outcome.”
Dmitry returned the following day, head bowed. After much pleading from Maksim and his own threat to move in with his mother permanently, Raisa Stepanovna agreed to visit only briefly.
Lilia welcomed him calmly, without reproach. Dmitry had learned a crucial lesson about respecting boundaries in someone else’s home, no matter the family ties.
Maksim happily reunited with his father, telling stories about playing and reading with his mother. For a five-year-old, one day without Dad was manageable.
Most importantly, Lilia realized that sometimes protecting family and home demands firm and decisive action. Patience and compromise are valuable only to a point, beyond which defending one’s boundaries becomes essential.
“Sometimes, to safeguard your family’s peace and dignity, standing your ground firmly is the only solution.”