Polina looked closely at the new curtains. They were light blue with little flowers—just what she had wanted for the living room. She fixed the folds, took a few steps back, and smiled.
“Sergey, what do you think?” she asked her husband, who was sitting in a chair, focused on his phone.
“They’re fine,” Sergey said without looking up.
“Do you think we should’ve picked ones with bigger flowers?” Polina asked, unsure.
Sergey glanced quickly at the window and shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter. Curtains are just curtains.”
Polina let out a sigh. Lately, Sergey seemed distant, like something was bothering him. She sat on the edge of the couch and gently touched his hand.
“Is something wrong? You haven’t been yourself.”
Sergey paused, put his phone down, and rubbed his nose.
“Polina, we need to talk,” he said seriously. “Mom is retiring next week.”
“So?” Polina asked, raising her eyebrow.
“She’s not used to being alone. She likes being around people. Sitting at home all day isn’t really her thing.”
Polina stiffened, already guessing what he was going to say.
“I was thinking,” Sergey went on, “maybe she could stay with us for a while? Just until she adjusts.”
Polina clenched her fist. Sergey’s mother, Larisa Arkadyevna, had never been warm toward her. Every time they met, she had something negative to say—Polina was too skinny, dressed wrong, or didn’t take care of the apartment properly.
“How long would she stay?” Polina asked cautiously.
“A month or two,” Sergey said, holding out his hands. “Until fall at the latest.”
“Alright,” Polina said after a pause. “But just for a short time.”
“You’re amazing!” Sergey said, hugging her. “Mom will really appreciate this.”
A week later, Larisa Arkadyevna walked into their home with two big suitcases.
“I hope the room’s ready,” she said, glancing critically around the hallway.
“Of course, Mom. The guest room is all set,” Sergey said, carrying the bags.
Polina forced a smile.
“Come in, Larisa Arkadyevna. Would you like some tea?”
“Yes. No sugar,” she snapped as she passed Polina. “And take down those awful curtains. They hurt my eyes.”
Polina bit her lip but stayed quiet. Just a couple of months, she told herself.
But a couple of months turned into six. Larisa Arkadyevna made herself at home—filling the kitchen with her jars of jam and pickles, moving paintings around, and even throwing out Polina’s favorite pillows, calling them “dust collectors.”
“Sergey, I can’t take it anymore,” Polina whispered one night in their bedroom. “Your mom’s acting like this is her home.”
“A white blouse is too revealing?” Polina asked, shocked by her mother-in-law’s comment.
Sergey raised his hands, trying to calm things down.
“Let’s not fight about clothes. Polina, just wear something else. And Mom, please ask before taking other people’s things.”
Polina was late for work and felt tired all day. She didn’t even want to go home. Lately, the apartment felt like someone else’s space, where everything she did was criticized.
That evening, she met her friend Natasha at a nearby café.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Polina said, slowly stirring her cold tea. “She’s made my life miserable.”
“And Sergey?” Natasha asked.
“He always takes her side,” Polina said with a bitter smile. “You know what he told me yesterday? That I should respect his mom because without her, he wouldn’t exist—and neither would our marriage.”
“Maybe you should live somewhere else for a while?” Natasha suggested. “I’ve got a spare room.”
Polina shook her head.
“This is my apartment, Natasha. Why should I be the one to leave?”
“Then talk to Sergey seriously. Stay calm, don’t blame anyone. Just tell him how uncomfortable you feel.”
Polina thought for a moment. Maybe she really should try talking to him again—calmly and clearly.
When she got home, she found Larisa Arkadyevna in her bedroom.
“What are you doing in here?” Polina asked, surprised.
“Making space in the closet,” her mother-in-law said, going through her clothes. “I have too many things for the guest room. Sergey said I could use part of your closet.”
That was the last straw.
Polina stood in the doorway, frozen, watching her mother-in-law move her things.
“Stop,” she said firmly, though quietly.
Her mother-in-law didn’t even look at her.
“Upset about sharing with your husband’s mother?” she said. “You’re so selfish.”
“This is my bedroom and my closet,” Polina said, stepping forward. “Please leave.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, girl,” Larisa Arkadyevna said, straightening up. “You may be married to my son, but you don’t deserve any respect.”
“What’s going on?” Sergey said, stepping into the room after hearing the voices.
“Your mother is going through my stuff!” Polina said, pointing at the clothes on the bed.
“I just wanted to hang some things up, and your wife lost her temper,” Larisa Arkadyevna said. “I always knew she didn’t value family.”
Sergey sighed.
“Polina, why all the drama? Mom just asked for a bit of closet space.”
“A bit of space?” Polina said, holding her head. “She’s taken over the whole guest room, half the kitchen, thrown out my stuff, moved our furniture—now she’s in our bedroom!”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Sergey said. “Mom just wants—”
“I don’t care what your mom wants!” Polina cut him off. “This is my apartment! I paid for it before we got married!”
“There you go again,” Sergey said, frowning. “How long are you going to keep throwing that in my face?”
“I’m not throwing it in your face!” Polina shouted. “But I won’t let anyone treat me like a guest in my own home!”
“See, Sergey?” Larisa Arkadyevna said. “She doesn’t respect me or you. A real wife wouldn’t yell at her husband.”
Polina took a deep breath to stay calm.
“Sergey, can we talk in private?”
“So you can turn him against me?” his mother said sharply. “No way. I have the right to know what’s happening in my son’s life.”
“You don’t have the right to control things in my home!” Polina said firmly. “You were supposed to be a guest—just for a little while. But now you act like you own the place.”
“How can you talk to my mother like that?” Sergey snapped. “Say sorry. Right now.”
“Say sorry?” Polina asked, shocked. “For standing up for myself? For defending my home and peace of mind? She was only supposed to stay for a couple of months—it’s been six!”
“So what?” Sergey said, crossing his arms. “She’s my mom. I’m not kicking her out.”
“Kicking her out? She has her own place—a big three-bedroom apartment!”
“She doesn’t want to live alone,” Sergey replied. “Can’t you be more understanding?”
“Understanding?” Polina looked around at the mess—her clothes thrown around, her closet open, her mother-in-law’s angry face. “I’ve been listening to her insults for six months! She’s constantly putting me down, saying I’m a bad wife and homemaker!”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Sergey muttered.
“I’m not being dramatic! I’m done. Either she goes back to her place, or…”
“Or what?” Sergey challenged.
Polina hesitated. She hadn’t expected it to go this far.
“See, Sergey?” his mother sneered. “She can’t even finish a sentence. She’s weak and disrespectful. You need to teach her her place!”
Then something inside Polina snapped. All the times she had stayed quiet, tried to be polite, and ignored the insults—she was done.
She stood tall and looked Larisa Arkadyevna straight in the eye.
“No, dear mother-in-law, I bought this apartment before we got married. Pack your things. Today. I won’t let you bully me in my own home anymore.”
“What did you say?” the older woman asked, shocked.
“You heard me. Start packing.”
“You can’t just kick my mom out!” Sergey yelled.
Polina turned to him calmly.
“I can. And I am. This is my apartment. I decide who lives here.”
“I’m your husband!”
“And you never supported me,” Polina said quietly. “You let your mother treat me terribly and said nothing.”
“You’re just selfish and cruel,” Larisa Arkadyevna said. “My poor son married the wrong woman.”
“Yes, he did,” Polina replied. “Because a real man wouldn’t let anyone hurt the woman he loves.” She walked to the door. “You both have two hours to pack.”
“What?” Sergey asked, shocked. “You’re kicking me out too?”
“Do you really want to stay?” Polina asked. “After everything that’s happened?”
Sergey didn’t answer. He just looked back and forth between his mother and his wife.
“Don’t worry, son,” his mother said. “We’ll go to my place. You’ll find a better woman—one who respects your mother.”
Polina shook her head and walked out of the room. She was surprised to feel no sadness—only relief, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
Two days later, there was a knock at the door. Sergey was standing there.
“Polina, can we talk?” he asked.
“Talk about what?” she said, crossing her arms. “About how you let your mother insult me? How you never defended me?”
“I tried to keep the peace,” Sergey replied. “But it didn’t work.”
“No, you didn’t try,” Polina said. “You just did what was easiest. Your mom yelled, so you gave her what she wanted. I stayed quiet, so you thought I was okay with it.”
“I still love you, Polina.”
“Love isn’t just words,” she said softly. “It’s also actions. And you chose your mother over me. I respect your choice. Now respect mine.”
She closed the door and leaned against it. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she felt stronger than ever. She had taken back her life, her home, and her self-respect.
A week later, she painted the bedroom lavender, rehung the light blue curtains with little flowers, and bought new pillows. Her apartment felt like hers again—a peaceful, safe space.
A month after that, Natasha introduced her to Andrei. He was calm, confident, listened when she talked about work, respected her thoughts, and never interrupted. And best of all—he had his own place, and his mother didn’t live with him.
Sometimes, losing something opens the door to something better. Polina was thankful for the lesson. From now on, she wouldn’t let anyone cross her boundaries—even for love.