Klavdiya Petrovna marched through the kitchen so forcefully the cupboard doors shook. Veronika didn’t lift her eyes from the screen. The quarterly report had to be submitted before noon, and her mother-in-law had already repeated the same complaint three times that morning.
Ten months of this.
Ten months of hearing that she was a parasite.
“Klavdiya Petrovna, I need to work.”
“Work!” the older woman spun around, hands planted on her hips. “Tapping on keys is work? My Sergey is out on sales until late at night, and you? A day passes and you call that enough? You should be ashamed! Leeching off my son like a tick!”
Veronika placed her pen on the table and slowly closed her laptop.
“Do you truly believe that, Klavdiya Petrovna?”
“How else am I supposed to see it? I’m not blind — I see what you do here all day. Stare out the window, chat on the phone. And Sergey supports both of you.”
“I see,” Veronika stood up. “Then we’ll discuss it tonight. With Sergey present. Since you’re so concerned about who depends on whom.”
Something in her tone made the older woman fall silent. But not for long.
Sergey came home around half past six. Both women sat at the table. A folder lay in front of them.
“What’s going on?” he asked, stepping cautiously into the kitchen.
“Sit down,” Veronika nodded toward the chair. “Your mother believes I’m leeching off you. That my work is just a hobby, and you’re supporting the family alone. Am I stating it correctly, Klavdiya Petrovna?”
His mother nodded stiffly, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Mom, we already—”
“Sergey, don’t interrupt.” Veronika opened the folder. “I agree with your mother. Parasites really should move out of other people’s homes.”
She placed a property certificate on the table.
“See the date, Klavdiya Petrovna? I bought this apartment four years before we got married. With my own money. Sergey didn’t contribute a single ruble — because this is my property. He pays part of the utilities, as we agreed. But you have lived here for ten months for free, telling me how to live in my own home.”
Klavdiya Petrovna snatched the papers. Scanned them. Turned pale.
“This… Sergey, did you know?”
“Of course. I told you many times this is Veronika’s apartment. You simply never listened.”
“But you work…”
“I work. And I earn well,” Sergey rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But Veronika earns twice as much as I do. She has clients she’s worked with for years. Just because she works from home doesn’t mean she’s idle.”
Veronika pulled out another document.
“A rental contract. A one-bedroom apartment in the next district. I paid three months in advance and left a deposit. This is for you, Klavdiya Petrovna. Consider it a farewell gift for ten months of humiliation.”
Silence. Her mother-in-law stared at the papers, unblinking.
“You’re throwing me out?”
“I’m taking my home back,” Veronika folded her hands on her lap. “You can pick up the keys tomorrow. Or the day after. But I will no longer listen to you calling me useless in my own apartment. That’s all.”
“Sergey!” his mother snapped toward him. “You’re going to let her treat me like this?”
Sergey stayed quiet for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.
“Mom, enough. Veronika is right. You can’t live here and insult my wife every day. I’m exhausted. I dread coming home because I know you’ve argued again. I’m tired of being stuck in the middle. I’m tired of being a coward.”
“So you choose her over me? Your own mother?”
“I choose my family,” he said, looking at Veronika. “And peace. I want to come home without fear of another fight.”
Klavdiya Petrovna grabbed the documents and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the glass in the cabinet rattled.
In the morning she emerged with two suitcases. Her face was stone, her eyes red. Without looking at Veronika, she picked up the keys to her new apartment and stopped in the doorway.
“You’ve torn me away from my son. He’ll never forgive you.”
“I’ve returned his wife to him,” Veronika didn’t look up from her laptop. “And gave you what you demanded — independence. Now you can get a proper job, like you told me to. Good luck.”
The door slammed shut. A deep, quiet stillness fell upon the apartment — so thick Veronika felt the tension of the past ten months sliding off her shoulders. She opened the window. Fresh air rushed in, sweeping away the stale presence that had lingered too long.
Sergey called an hour later.
“She’s here at my work. Crying, demanding I make you change your mind.”
“And what did you say?”
“That it’s time she learned to live on her own. That I’m tired of being between the two of you.” He paused. “And that you’re right.”
Veronika closed her eyes and exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“No. Thank you for not leaving earlier. I’ve been a coward, Nika. For ten months.”
“Not anymore. And that’s what matters.”
Three weeks later Sergey came home smirking.
“Mom found a job.”
“That was fast.”
“At the grocery store next to her building. As a cashier.” He dropped his jacket and sat down. “You know what she told me? That it’s temporary. That she’ll soon find something respectable.”
Veronika raised an eyebrow.
“A normal job where people work hard. Her words.”
“Yep. But when she has to stand behind the register at six in the morning, that suddenly doesn’t count.” Sergey shook his head. “She still doesn’t get it.”
“She will. Once she gets tired of telling others how to live.”
He hugged her, resting his forehead against her hair.
“My boss said I’m getting a promotion next week. A significant raise.”
“Sergey, that’s wonderful!”
“I told him that I’ll still earn less than my wife.” He chuckled. “You should’ve seen his face.”
Veronika laughed — truly, freely — for the first time in months.
“You learned.”
“I had a good teacher.” He kissed her temple. “Sorry it took me so long.”
“What matters is that you learned.”
A month later, Klavdiya Petrovna called. Her voice was stiff.
“I’d like to come. Talk. With both of you.”
Veronika looked at Sergey. He shrugged — your call.
“Come Saturday. At six.”
She arrived exactly at six. Without her worn housecoat, wearing a neat blouse, holding a bag of fruit. She sat across from Veronika and stared at the table in silence.
“How’s work?” Sergey asked.
“Hard,” she admitted. “My feet ache by evening. Customers are rude. The salary is tiny.”
“But it’s a normal job,” Veronika sipped her water. “Where people work hard. Remember?”
The older woman flinched, as if slapped. Blushed.
“I didn’t come for that.”
“Then for what?”
“To say you were right,” she raised her eyes. “I lived here for ten months, did nothing, and told you how to live. I thought I had the right because I’m Sergey’s mother. But I didn’t. This isn’t our shared home, the money isn’t his alone, and I… I was unnecessary.”
“Not unnecessary,” Veronika said softly. “Just a guest. Who mistook herself for the owner.”
“Yes. A guest.” She hesitated. “Now I know what it’s like to live on someone else’s money and hear every day that you’re worthless. My manager reminds me of that constantly. And now I understand what you felt.”
Sergey placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away.
“I’m not asking forgiveness,” she continued. “Because I’m not sure I deserve it. But I understand now. This is your home, Veronika. Sergey chose you, and he was right. And I… I was a terrible mother-in-law.”
Veronika stood, walked over, and gently placed her hand on her shoulder.
“I don’t hold a grudge. But boundaries stay. You’re welcome to visit, to call. But you won’t tell me how to live anymore. Agreed?”
A quick, firm nod.
“Agreed.”
When she left, Sergey embraced Veronika and held her tightly.
“I never thought she could admit she was wrong.”
“People change when they have no choice,” Veronika said quietly. “Your mom was used to giving orders because everyone allowed it. When I set boundaries, she had to face reality. And she managed.”
“You’re defending her?”
“No. I just don’t see the point in holding anger when someone has changed.” Veronika smiled. “I have my home, my life, and a husband who stands with me. That’s what matters.”
They sat by the window, the city humming beyond the glass. Inside, their apartment was peaceful. Truly peaceful. No footsteps outside the door, no sighs through the wall, no slamming drawers. Just calm.
Veronika glanced at her husband. He smiled — genuinely.
And she knew it had all been worth it.
Sometimes you have to be firm to protect yourself. Kindness without boundaries becomes weakness.
Her home was hers again.
And no one would ever make her feel unwelcome in it.
“What are you thinking?” Sergey asked.
“That I shouldn’t have stayed silent for so long,” she replied. “I should’ve put her in her place in the first month.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was afraid you’d choose her. That you’d say, ‘She’s my mother, deal with it.’ That I’d end up being the villain.”
Sergey squeezed her hand.
“I was a fool to make you think that.”
“Not a fool. Just a son who didn’t know how to tell his mother ‘no’.” She smirked. “Do you know how now?”
“I do. She called yesterday asking if she could store her winter things here since her apartment is small. I said no — absolutely not. She can send them to storage or rent a bigger place.”
“And what did she say?”
“She got offended and hung up,” he shrugged. “But an hour later she called back and said I was right. That she needs to handle her own problems now.”
Veronika leaned on him. The streetlights lit up outside, the city glowing warmly. Their home no longer felt like a battleground — it felt like home again.
“You know what’s strange?” she said. “I don’t feel triumphant. I thought I’d be thrilled when she left. Thought I’d enjoy seeing her work for pennies. But I just feel… calm.”
“That’s victory,” Sergey said, kissing her head. “When you don’t need to prove you’ve won.”
She smiled. He was right.
She didn’t need proof. She didn’t need apologies — though she received them. She didn’t need validation that she earned more — though that was acknowledged too.
What mattered was that she defended her space.
Her home.
Her life.
And taught her husband to defend it with her.
“Let’s go to bed,” she said. “I have to get up early.”
“For work?” he teased. “That imaginary job of yours?”
“The very one.” Veronika stretched. “I have a big client report tomorrow. If all goes well, the bonus will be substantial.”
“We’ll spend it on something nice?”
“On something for the two of us,” she took his hand. “Just for us.”
They went to the bedroom. Veronika closed the door and paused, listening.
Silence.
No footsteps outside the door.
No sighs through the wall.
No slammed doors.
Just silence and peace.
Her home.
Her rules.
Her life.
And no one would ever again tell her she lived it wrong.