“Arina, bake a cabbage pie for dinner tomorrow,” Lyudmila Vasilyevna announced as she entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. “I haven’t had proper pastries in a long time; you always cook strange dishes.”
Arina turned away from the stove where she was frying meatballs for dinner. Her mother-in-law sat there with her usual disapproving expression, adjusting her familiar burgundy sweater.
“I’m allergic to cabbage, Lyudmila Vasilyevna,” Arina answered calmly, turning a meatball. “I won’t make it.”
“What do you mean, you won’t make it?” Her mother-in-law’s voice grew sharp. “I asked you to, and you refuse? Who do you think you are to argue with me? Daughters-in-law used to respect their elders!”
“This isn’t about respect,” Arina said, moving the pan to another stove. “If I cook cabbage, I get an allergic attack. Make it yourself if you want it so badly.”
“Make it yourself?” Lyudmila Vasilyevna jumped up from her chair. “I’m not your servant! You’re the mistress of the house, so cook what I say! And your allergy is just an excuse. You’re simply too lazy to bother with the dough!”
“Lyudmila Vasilievna, what does laziness have to do with anything?” Arina turned to her mother-in-law. “I cook every day, clean, and do laundry. But I won’t bake a cabbage pie because I’m physically unable to!”
“Can’t you, or won’t you?” The mother-in-law approached, narrowing her eyes. “You think just because my son married you, you can give me orders? We’ll see who’s really in charge here!”
Keys jangled in the hallway—Mikhail had come home. Lyudmila Vasilievna’s face immediately took on a pained expression.
“Misha, son,” she ran to meet him. “It’s good that you’re here. Your wife has become completely impudent! I asked her to bake a pie, and she’s being rude to me and refusing!”
Mikhail took off his jacket and cast a weary glance at his wife; she was standing tensely by the stove.
“Arina, what’s wrong?” he asked as he hung up his jacket in the closet. “Why are you refusing to tell your mother?”
“I’m allergic to cabbage, Misha,” Arina said quietly. “I’ve already explained it to Lyudmila Vasilyevna.”
“Allergy? What allergy?” Mikhail waved his hand. “Mom, don’t worry. Arina will bake the cake tomorrow. Right, darling?”
Arina looked silently first at her husband, then at her triumphantly smiling mother-in-law. Her heart clenched painfully.
“No, I won’t bake it,” she said firmly, taking off her apron and heading for the door. “You can have dinner on your own.”
Arina went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Muffled voices could be heard behind the wall—Mikhail and his mother were quietly eating dinner, talking about everyday things.
And she lay with her face in the pillow, tears streaming down her cheeks.
A steady murmur could be heard behind the wall—Mikhail was telling his mother about work, and she nodded sympathetically. As if nothing had happened. As if his wife hadn’t left in a huff, but had simply vanished into thin air.
In the morning, Arina got up earlier than usual. Lyudmila Vasilyevna was still asleep—the house was unusually quiet. Mikhail sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, scrolling through the news on his phone.
“Misha, I need to talk to you,” Arina sat down across from him, clasping her hands. “A serious conversation.”
He looked up from the screen, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“About what?”
“About your mother,” Arina took a deep breath. “I’m tired of the constant nagging. Lyudmila Vasilyevna criticizes everything—how I cook, how I clean, what I wear. I’m tired of having to obey her in our… in our home.”
“Arina, what are you saying?” Mikhail put down his phone. “Mom behaves well. She just has her habits.”
“Habits?” Arina’s voice sharpened. “Is that what you call bossing around adults?
Misha, maybe it’s time to get your mother a rental apartment? Let them live separately? We’re still young—we need our own space.”
Mikhail hit the cup on the saucer.
“Are you trying to throw my mother out?” His voice was metallic. “She asked to live with us, and you want to kick her out?”
“I’m not saying that,” Arina reached out, but he pulled away. “Just a place of her own. We could help with the rent…”
“Look, I don’t like this,” Mikhail stood up and began getting ready for work. “Mom doesn’t bother anyone. On the contrary, she makes our lives better—cooks, helps around the house.”
“When does she cook?” Arina also stood up. “Misha, open your eyes! I work, come home, cook dinner, clean, do laundry. And your mother just criticizes!”
“Enough,” Mikhail interrupted, putting on his jacket. “I don’t want to hear this anymore. Mom is staying with us. Period.”
The door slammed behind him with an unpleasant metallic clang. Arina was left alone in the kitchen, staring at Mikhail’s half-full coffee cup.
The bitterness of the conversation spread through her like the cold drink. Slowly, she picked up the cup, washed it, and set it aside to dry.
Arina was angered by this injustice. Her mother-in-law had given her an apartment. And then she insisted on living with them.
And Mikhail didn’t find anything strange about it! Arina was tired of living under his mother’s watchful eye.
Half an hour later, Lyudmila Vasilyevna appeared in the kitchen. Her hair was neatly styled, her dressing gown buttoned up to the last button. Her face expressed extreme disapproval.
“Well, what a scene you made,” her mother-in-law began, without even greeting her. “So rude! You thought my son would support you?”
Arina silently poured herself some tea, trying not to react to the provocation.
“You see?” Lyudmila Vasilievna continued, sitting down at the table. “My son has taken my side! That means he understands who’s in charge here. And since that’s the case, you must obey me!”
Arina put the kettle down a little more sharply than she had planned.
“Today you will clean the entire apartment until it shines,” her mother-in-law continued in a didactic tone. “Wash the windows, mop all the floors in every room, make the bathroom sparkle. Otherwise, you walk around here like a lady, but the house is dirty!”
“The house isn’t dirty,” Arina replied quietly.
“Not dirty?” Lyudmila Vasilievna’s voice rose. “I saw dust on the dresser in the living room yesterday!
And the mirror in the hallway is smeared! If you object, I’ll complain to my son and tell him you don’t listen to me!”
Something inside Arina burst. Like a taut string that could no longer withstand the tension. She turned sharply to her mother-in-law.
“No!” Her voice trembled with tension. “I won’t do it! I’ve obeyed you for too long! I’ve lost myself in all this! I cook what you command, clean when you say, keep quiet when you shout! Enough!”
Lyudmila Vasilievna jumped to her feet. Her face flushed with indignation. She screamed:
“How dare you? How dare you answer me so impudently?”
Arina also raised her voice.
“I dare! I’m a living person, not your servant! And I won’t tolerate your nagging any longer!”
“If you’re cheeky, my son will kick you out!” cried the mother-in-law, shaking her fist.
And then something inside Arina seemed to break. Years of silence, months of humiliation. Everything erupted in a mighty wave.
She sat up straight. Her voice sounded so strong that Lyudmila Vasilievna involuntarily took a step back.
“You’ve forgotten whose apartment this is! You’ve forgotten who lets you live here! Who allowed you to live here, without paying rent, without utilities, without food—nothing! Let me remind you—this is my apartment!”
Mine, bought before marriage. Bought before I even knew your son and your entire family!”
Lyudmila Vasilievna stood there with her mouth open. She clearly hadn’t expected this turn of events.
But Arina didn’t stop.
“And from this day on, you won’t dictate to me anymore! Or it won’t be me who ends up on the street—it will be you! Understand?”
For a few seconds, the mother-in-law stood there petrified, then slowly came to her senses. Her face flushed, her eyes narrowed.
“How dare you speak to me like that?” she shrieked. “You have no right! I’m your husband’s mother! I’m older than you! You have to respect me!”
“Respect must be earned, not just given because of age!” Arina didn’t let up. “And in the last few months here with me, you haven’t earned a single drop of respect!”
“How dare you…” Lyudmila Vasilievna gasped indignantly. “Who do you think you are? I’m Misha’s mother! And you’re just a temporary wife! He’ll always choose me!”
“Then you two move out together!” Arina chimed in. “And I’ll stay in my apartment! Where I pay, clean, and cook! While you just yell!”
“I… I’ll tell my son!” stammered her mother-in-law. “He’ll find out how you treat me!”
“Go ahead!” Arina crossed her arms. “Just don’t forget to mention that you’re living here for free!”
Lyudmila Vasilievna turned around indignantly and stomped loudly toward her room. The door slammed so hard that the windows rattled.
A few minutes later, an agitated voice sounded from the room. The mother-in-law was obviously calling for her son.
Arina caught fragments: “Absolutely impudent… insults me… threatens to throw me out…”
Arina calmly finished her tea and began to get ready for work. Let Lyudmila Vasilievna complain—today, for the first time in a long time, she had told the truth.
That evening, Mikhail came home almost furious. His face was flushed, his eyes flashing with anger. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he attacked his wife:
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. “Mom told me everything! How dare you insult her? Are you threatening to throw her out of the house?”
“Out of my house,” Arina corrected calmly, taking off her apron. “And I didn’t threaten. I warned.”
“Out of yours?” Mikhail’s voice rose. “We are husband and wife! What’s yours is mine!”
“No, darling,” Arina turned to him. “I bought this apartment before marriage. And I won’t tolerate your mother’s insolence any longer.”
“Mom didn’t do anything wrong!” Mikhail exclaimed. “She just asked for help around the house!”
“She gave orders,” Arina retorted. “And insulted me. And you supported her.”
“Of course I supported her! She’s my mother!”
“Then live with her,” Arina went to the front door and opened it wide. “But not here. Pack your things and leave.”
“Are you kidding?” Mikhail looked at his wife incredulously.
“Not at all,” Arina said, pointing to the door. “You’ve taken advantage of me enough, lived off me enough. Now decide where and how you want to live. And I choose to be happy. Without you!”
Lyudmila Vasilievna ran out of the room when she heard the screaming.
“What’s going on?” she asked, but when she saw the open door, she understood everything.
“Pack your things,” Arina repeated. “You have half an hour.”
Relief washed over Arina like a wave. She had taken the hardest step.
