Polina ran her fingers over the newly hung curtains, the soft blue fabric with delicate floral patterns just as she envisioned for the living room. She took a few steps back, admiring the way it brightened up the room, and smiled at her work.

“Sergey, what do you think?” she asked, her gaze turning to her husband, who sat in the armchair, eyes glued to his phone.

“It’s fine,” Sergey mumbled, not bothering to look up.

Polina hesitated, eyeing the curtains again. “Maybe I should have chosen ones with a bigger pattern?”

Sergey glanced at the window briefly before shrugging. “What’s the difference? Curtains are just curtains.”

Polina’s smile faded. Lately, Sergey had been distant, almost distracted, as though something was weighing on him. She sat down on the edge of the sofa and gently touched his hand.

“Did something happen? You've been acting differently,” she asked, her voice soft but filled with concern.

Sergey put down his phone, rubbing his nose. “Polina, we need to talk,” he said, his tone unusually serious. “Mom’s retiring next week.”

“And?” Polina raised an eyebrow, sensing the conversation was about to take a turn.

“She’s going to be alone. She’s used to being around people. Sitting by herself all day... it’s not something she’s used to.”

Polina’s heart sank as she understood where this was headed.

“I was thinking,” Sergey continued, “maybe she could stay with us for a while? Until she gets used to the change, the new pace of life.”

Polina clenched her fists, her frustration building. Larisa Arkadyevna, Sergey’s mother, had always been critical of her—never missing a chance to find fault in everything Polina did. From her looks to her home, nothing was ever good enough.

“For how long?” Polina asked, her voice tight with forced patience.

“Well, for a month or two,” Sergey replied, shrugging. “Maybe until fall.”

Polina let out a long breath, trying to control her emotions. “Okay. But only temporarily.”

Sergey grinned, pulling her into an embrace. “You’re the best! Mom will appreciate your care.”

A week later, Larisa Arkadyevna arrived, two large suitcases in hand, her critical eyes scanning the hallway.

“I hope you’ve prepared a room for me,” she stated, barely acknowledging either of them.

“Of course, Mom. The guest room is all yours,” Sergey said, taking the suitcases and heading for the room.

Polina forced a smile. “Come in, Larisa Arkadyevna. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, but no sugar,” her mother-in-law snapped, walking past her. “And take those awful curtains down. They’re giving me a headache.”

Polina bit her lip but said nothing. A couple of months, she reminded herself. Just a couple of months.

But those couple of months turned into six. Larisa Arkadyevna made herself comfortable—filling kitchen shelves with her jars of preserves, rearranging the living room furniture, even throwing out Polina’s beloved decorative cushions, claiming they just “gathered dust.”

“Sergey, I can’t do this anymore,” Polina whispered to her husband late one night in their bedroom. “Your mom is acting like this apartment belongs to her.”

“She’s just used to being in charge,” Sergey sighed. “She’s going through a transitional phase. It’s hard for her.”

“What ‘phase’ at sixty?” Polina exploded, throwing up her hands. “She threw away my porcelain figurine collection yesterday!”

“She didn’t throw them out, she packed them in a box. They were taking up too much space.”

“In my apartment!”

“In our apartment,” Sergey corrected, his tone defensive.

“The apartment I bought before we got married, with the money from selling my grandmother’s apartment,” Polina reminded him, her voice cold with frustration.

Sergey grimaced. “Let’s not start that conversation again. Just be patient a little longer.”

Polina turned away, closing her eyes. She couldn’t take much more of this.

Soon, the open criticisms started, too.

“You’ve over-salted this,” Larisa Arkadyevna huffed, pushing her plate of stewed potatoes away. “In my day, girls were taught to cook properly.”

“In your day, women were married off without asking,” Polina retorted, immediately regretting the words.

“Sergey! Did you hear how she’s talking to me?” Larisa Arkadyevna turned to her son. “I’m an elderly person, I deserve respect!”

“Polina, don’t start,” Sergey sighed tiredly. “Mom’s right. You should respect your elders.”

Polina stood up from the table, her fists clenched in frustration. She didn’t know who to be angrier with—her mother-in-law or Sergey. Both of them were turning her into a guest in her own home.

The next morning, Polina discovered her favorite blouse was missing.

“Larisa Arkadyevna, have you seen my white blouse?” Polina asked, peeking into the kitchen.

“That tasteless thing? I washed it. You’re washing it wrong, that’s why it looks like a rag.”

“I was going to wear it today!” Polina’s voice shook with irritation.

“Buy something decent for yourself,” her mother-in-law snapped. “At your age, you should look like a woman, not a teenager.”

Before Polina could respond, Sergey walked into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?”

“Your mom took my clothes without asking!” Polina exclaimed.

“I’m just helping her look presentable,” Larisa Arkadyevna shot back. “Sergey, tell her that married women shouldn’t wear such revealing things.”

“A white blouse is revealing?” Polina asked incredulously.

Sergey raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Let’s not fight over a blouse. Polina, wear something else. And you, Mom, next time ask for permission before taking someone else’s clothes.”

Polina was late for work, exhausted by the constant tension. The apartment had become a battlefield, with every room occupied by judgment and resentment.

That evening, she met her friend Natasha at a café near home.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Polina confessed, stirring her cold tea. “She’s turned my life into a nightmare.”

“And Sergey?” Natasha asked.

“Always on his mother’s side,” Polina said bitterly. “Yesterday, he told me I had to respect his mother because without her, there wouldn’t be him and no marriage.”

“Maybe you should live separately for a while?” Natasha suggested. “I have a spare room.”

Polina shook her head. “This is my apartment, Natasha. Why should I leave?”

“Then talk to Sergey. Have a real conversation. Explain that you’re uncomfortable.”

Polina thought about it. Maybe it was worth one last try, a calm, rational conversation.

When she returned home, she found Larisa Arkadyevna in her bedroom.

“What are you doing here?” Polina was stunned.

“Making space in the closet,” her mother-in-law replied, rummaging through her things. “I have too many clothes for the guest room. Sergey said I could take some of your closet space.”

That was it. The last straw.

“Stop,” Polina said quietly, her voice firm.

Her mother-in-law didn’t even look up. “Are you bothered by making space for your husband’s mother?” she asked, continuing to rummage through the closet. “What a selfish woman you are.”

“This is my bedroom and my closet,” Polina stepped forward. “Please, get out of here.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Larisa Arkadyevna sneered. “You may be my son’s wife, but you don’t deserve any respect.”

“What’s going on here?” Sergey appeared in the doorway, drawn by the raised voices.

“Your mother is going through my things!” Polina pointed to the mess.

“I just wanted to hang my things, but your wife had a fit,” Larisa Arkadyevna sniffed. “I always knew she didn’t respect family values.”

Sergey sighed tiredly. “Polina, what’s all the noise about? Mom just asked for a little space.”

“A little space?” Polina exploded. “Sergey, she’s already taken over the entire guest room, half the kitchen, thrown out my things, and rearranged the furniture! Now she’s in our bedroom!”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Sergey waved his hand. “Mom just wants…”

“I don’t care what your mother wants!” Polina interrupted. “This is my apartment! I bought it with my own money, before we got married!”

“Starting again?” Sergey frowned. “How much longer are you going to keep bringing this up?”

“I’m not bringing it up!” Polina raised her voice. “But I won’t allow anyone to treat me like a guest in my own home!”

“See, Sergey?” Larisa Arkadyevna chimed in. “She doesn’t respect either me or you. A real woman would never shout at her husband.”

Polina took a deep breath, her frustration reaching its peak.

“Sergey, let’s talk alone.”

“So you can turn him against his mother?” Larisa Arkadyevna sneered. “No, I’m not going anywhere. I have the right to know what’s going on in my son’s family.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do in my house!” Polina snapped. “You were a guest. A temporary guest. Now you’ve become a warden!”

“How are you speaking to my mother?” Sergey demanded. “Apologize immediately!”

“Apologize?” Polina could hardly believe it. “For defending my space? My life? She was supposed to stay for a couple of months, and now she’s been living with us for half a year!”

“So what?” Sergey crossed his arms. “She’s my mother, and I’m not going to throw her out into the street.”

“Into the street?” Polina smiled bitterly. “She has her own apartment! A three-bedroom, by the way!”

“In which she doesn’t want to live alone,” Sergey interrupted her. “You have no heart, Polina?”

“No heart?” Polina looked around at the chaos—the scattered clothes, the open closet, her mother-in-law’s smug expression. “I’ve been putting up with your mother turning my life into a nightmare for six months! Six months of hearing how bad a wife, housekeeper, and daughter-in-law I am!”

“Don’t dramatize,” Sergey grimaced.

“I’m not dramatizing! I can’t and don’t want to do this anymore. Either your mother goes back to her place, or…”

“Or what?” Sergey challenged.

Polina fell silent, not knowing what to say. She never imagined their marriage could fall apart because of this.

“See, Sergey?” Larisa Arkadyevna triumphantly said. “She doesn’t even know how to threaten properly. A weak, spineless girl. She dares to show character in our house? You need to put her in her place!”

And then something snapped inside Polina. The humiliations she had endured, the silent agreement, the fear of conflict, and the desire to please everyone—it all came crashing down.

She stood tall, looking directly into her mother-in-law’s eyes.

“No, dear mother-in-law, I bought this apartment before our marriage, so pack your things. Today. I won’t let you torment me in my own home anymore.”

“What did you say?” her mother-in-law was stunned.

“You heard me perfectly. Pack your things and leave.”

“You have no right to throw my mother out!” Sergey shouted.

Polina turned to her husband.

“I do. And I’m doing it. The apartment belongs to me. And I decide who lives in it.”

“I’m your husband!”

“Who never once stood by my side,” Polina said bitterly. “Who watched his mother mistreat his wife and stayed silent.”

“You’re just petty and mean,” Larisa Arkadyevna added. “Poor my boy, he didn’t get lucky with a wife.”

“Yes, he didn’t get lucky,” Polina agreed. “But a real man wouldn’t let his mother treat his beloved woman like this.” She took a deep breath and walked to the door. “You have two hours to pack. Both of you.”

“What?” Sergey was stunned. “Are you kicking me out too?”

“Do you want to stay?” Polina raised an eyebrow. “After all of this?”

Sergey was silent, looking from his mother to his wife.

“Don’t worry, son,” Larisa Arkadyevna interrupted. “We’ll go to my place. You’ll find a normal girl who will respect your mother.”

Polina shook her head and left the room. Surprisingly, there was no pain. Only relief. Like a heavy stone had been lifted from her soul.

Two days later, there was a knock on the door. Sergey stood in the doorway.

“Polina, let’s talk,” he started.

“About what?” Polina crossed her arms. “About how you let your mother humiliate me? Or about how you never once stood up for me?”

“I tried to reconcile everyone,” Sergey said. “But I didn’t succeed.”

“You didn’t even try,” Polina shook her head. “You just went the path of least resistance. Mom shouts — so she has to be accommodated. I stay quiet — so everything’s fine with me.”

“I love you, Polina.”

“Love is not just words,” Polina smiled sadly. “It’s also actions. And you chose your mother, not your wife. I respect your choice, but now respect mine.”

She closed the door and leaned against it. Tears ran down her cheeks, but strength surged through her veins. Polina had taken back her life, her apartment, her dignity.

A week later, she repainted the bedroom walls her favorite lavender color, put the light blue curtains with a small floral pattern back up, and bought new decorative pillows. The apartment was once again her home, her fortress, her corner.

And a month later, Natasha introduced her to Andrei — a calm, self-confident man who listened to her stories about work with interest, valued her opinion, and never interrupted. And most importantly — he had his own apartment, where his mother didn’t live.

Sometimes losses turn out to be the beginning of something new, something better. And Polina was grateful to fate for this lesson. She would never again allow anyone to cross her boundaries. Even for love.