My mother-in-law thought that after the divorce I would support her out of fear, but she had no idea that I had completely different plans.
Lara looked at the elderly woman standing on the threshold of her apartment with a suitcase in her hand and could hardly believe her eyes. Valentina Petrovna, her former mother-in-law, stood there as if she had come to visit an old friend.
“Larochka, dear,” she began in a drawn-out voice, “I have absolutely nowhere to go. Dimka brought that… what’s her name… Olga to his place. And I don’t want to get in the young people’s way, you understand? They’re building their love there, and what am I supposed to do at my age? Could you let me stay for a while?”
Lara silently stepped aside, letting her mother-in-law in. What could she say? Throw a sixty-year-old woman out onto the street? Yes, the divorce had been painful. Yes, Dmitry had turned out to be quite the character, suddenly “finding himself” after twelve years of marriage in the arms of a twenty-five-year-old colleague. But what did his mother have to do with it?
“Valentina Petrovna,” Lara said quietly, closing the door, “I don’t understand. You have your own apartment. Why do you have to live here?”
“Oh, Larochka,” her mother-in-law sighed, settling onto the sofa and untying her shoelaces, “you know what my little apartment is like. Tiny. But here there’s space, air. Dimka said you’re alone in a two-room apartment anyway. What does it cost you to shelter an old woman?”
Lara clenched her fists. Of course Dmitry had said that. How convenient for him: he had moved his new lover into his place and dumped his mother on his ex-wife. And nobody cared how Lara felt.
“It’s temporary,” Valentina Petrovna repeated, already unbuttoning her coat. “Until I figure something out.”
For the first week, Lara tried to be understanding. She cooked breakfast for two, bought the medicine her mother-in-law “urgently needed,” and quietly cleaned up after her. Valentina Petrovna was not the tidiest houseguest. She constantly left dirty dishes in the sink, scattered her things around the rooms, and watched TV series loudly until late at night.
“Lara, dear,” she said one morning, “my pension is so small. Could you give me a little money for groceries? And for blood pressure pills. I have no money at all.”
Lara silently opened her wallet and gave her five thousand. Then another three thousand for “a new heart supplement.” Then two thousand more for “something tasty with tea.”
“Valentina Petrovna,” Lara said carefully a month later, when yet another request for money made her look into her almost-empty wallet, “maybe you should live within your means? I’m not a millionaire either.”
Her mother-in-law turned sharply toward her, and a familiar spark flashed in her eyes. Lara knew that look. It was the warning sign of a major scandal.
“What did you say?” Valentina Petrovna’s voice rose an octave. “Live within my means? How dare you! I accepted you into the family like my own daughter! For twelve years I treated you like a daughter! And now you’re throwing pennies in my face?”
“I’m not throwing anything in your face, I’m just…”
“What could you possibly understand about life, you childless woman!” her mother-in-law shouted, waving her arms. “I raised my son alone after my husband died! I worked three jobs! And now you begrudge me money for heart pills? I’ll tell the neighbors what you’re really like! Ungrateful!”
Lara endured that scene in silence. And the next one too. And the one that happened because of an “unsuitable” dinner. Valentina Petrovna turned out to be a true master of scandals. She knew how to scream for hours, attract the neighbors’ attention, and accuse Lara of every sin imaginable.
After another performance, Lara dialed Dmitry’s number.
“Dima, please come and take your mother.”
“Lar, come on. I’m building my personal life. Mom is already upset because of the divorce. And you’re alone in a two-room apartment anyway. What does it cost you?”
“It costs me my money, my nerves, and my peace.”
“Don’t be dramatic. Mom is an elderly person. She needs support. You have the opportunity to help, so help.”
Then came the beeps. He had simply hung up.
Lara sat in the kitchen and realized she couldn’t go on anymore. Valentina Petrovna felt like the full mistress of the apartment, caused scenes over every little thing, constantly demanded money, and never doubted for a second that she had every right to behave that way.
“My mother-in-law thought that after the divorce I would support her out of fear, but she had no idea that I had completely different plans,” Lara thought, looking out the window at the gray February courtyard.
The next morning, when Valentina Petrovna went to the clinic, Lara called a locksmith. The locks were changed in an hour.
In the evening, her mother-in-law returned from her walk. She liked wandering through shops and complaining to salespeople about life. But the key would not turn in the lock.
“Lara! Lara, open up!” she knocked on the door. “What kind of joke is this?”
Lara stepped out onto the stairwell, calmly looking at the confused woman.
“This isn’t a joke, Valentina Petrovna. Pack your things. I called a taxi.”
“What? Have you lost your mind? Where are you kicking me out to?”
“Home. To your son. Where you belong.”
“But I can’t! Olga lives there! It’s inconvenient for me!”
“And was it convenient for me?” Lara asked calmly, watching as her mother-in-law’s face changed, becoming hard and ready for attack.
“How dare you!” Valentina Petrovna shrieked. “I’m an old woman! I have a bad heart! You have no right!”
“I do. This is my apartment.”
“I’ll go to the neighbors! I’ll tell everyone what you’re like!”
“Go ahead. I don’t care anymore.”
The suitcase was packed quickly. Her mother-in-law didn’t have many things. In the taxi, Valentina Petrovna was silent, only breathing heavily and occasionally clutching her heart theatrically.
At the entrance to Dmitry’s building, Lara got out first and helped carry the suitcase. They went up to the third floor. Her surprised ex-husband opened the door in sweatpants.
“Lara? Mom? What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that I’m returning your mother to you,” Lara said, pushing the suitcase into the hallway. “Valentina Petrovna no longer lives in my apartment.”
Olga came out of the room, a pretty blonde in a house robe. At the sight of the mother-in-law, her face fell.
“But Mom can’t live here!” Dmitry protested. “We have… we’re…”
“Building your personal life,” Lara finished for him. “Excellent. Build it. But without my involvement.”
“Lara, you don’t understand,” Dmitry began in the tone people use when explaining something obvious to small children. “Mom needs help. She’s old, she’s sick. She has a small pension.”
“She has a son. Let him help her.”
“But I have a new family!”
“And I have a new life. And in that life, there is no room for your problems.”
Valentina Petrovna, who had been silent until that moment, suddenly exploded.
“Dmitry! Do you see how she treats me? She threw an old woman out onto the street! Heartless! I loved her like a daughter!”
“Mom, come on,” Dmitry mumbled in confusion, but Lara could see he was panicking.
“If you want to throw your mother out, that’s on your conscience,” Lara said, turning toward the door. “But no one from your family will ever set foot in my apartment again. I won’t open the door.”
“Lara, wait!” Dmitry shouted after her.
But she was already walking down the stairs, not looking back at her mother-in-law’s hysterical cries or her ex-husband’s confused pleas.
At home, the first thing Lara did was turn on her computer and visit a travel agency website. The money she had been saving for new furniture was enough for a two-week trip to Turkey. All inclusive — exactly what she needed after a month of living with Valentina Petrovna.
That evening, the phone rang. Dmitry.
“Lara, how can you be so cruel? Mom is crying.”
“Let her cry in your apartment.”
“But Olga and I have only just started living together! Do you understand?”
“I understand. I understand that those are your problems.”
“Lar, be human. We’ll find another solution, but not right now. Give us some time.”
“You had time. A whole month while I supported your mother. Now your time is up.”
She hung up and turned off her phone.
For the next three days, her phone was exploding with calls. Dmitry, Valentina Petrovna, even unknown numbers — apparently, her mother-in-law had recruited her friends into the campaign. Lara answered no one.
On Thursday morning, she stood by the window with a cup of coffee and watched the children playing in the courtyard. The silence in the apartment felt blissful after a month of constant noise, demands, and scandals.
The doorbell broke the peace. A tearful Olga stood on the landing.
“Lara, can we talk?”
“About what?”
“About Valentina Petrovna. I understand that you had a fight, but…”
“We didn’t have a fight. I simply set boundaries.”
“She’s so… difficult,” Olga said quietly. “She thinks I destroyed the family. She causes scenes every day. Dima disappears at work, and I have to stay with her. She says terrible things.”
Lara almost smiled. A month ago, she would have felt sorry for the girl, given her advice, maybe even offered help. But now she simply looked at her calmly.
“Those are your family problems.”
“But maybe we can come to some arrangement? Take turns or…”
“No.”
“But she can’t live on the street!”
“She has her own apartment and she has a son. Let them figure it out.”
Olga stood there for another minute, apparently hoping the conversation would continue, but Lara remained silent.
“I thought you would understand,” the girl said quietly, turning toward the stairs.
“I do understand. I understand that everyone should solve their own problems.”
On Friday, Lara learned from her neighbor Aunt Katya that the whole building was buzzing about their family drama.
“Larochka, is it true that you kicked your mother-in-law out?” the elderly woman asked when she met Lara by the mailboxes.
“It’s true.”
“Oh, how could you… She’s an old woman.”
“Not so old that she can’t cause scandals and demand money.”
“But still… family.”
“Aunt Katya,” Lara said tiredly, “family is when people respect each other. Not when some people use others.”
The woman nodded thoughtfully. Apparently, she too had experienced similar situations in her life.
On Saturday, Lara received one final message from Dmitry: “You’ve changed. You’ve become harsh and selfish.” She deleted it without replying.
On Sunday, she finished her morning coffee, checked her travel documents once more, and locked the apartment. The taxi was already waiting outside the entrance.
On the plane, looking through the window at the clouds drifting past, Lara thought about how easily she had allowed others to use her. For twelve years of marriage, she had been a convenient wife — she didn’t demand, didn’t make scandals, forgave small insults. For a month after the divorce, she had been a convenient former daughter-in-law — supporting her mother-in-law, tolerating her antics, and never protesting.
The flight attendant offered her a drink. Lara chose champagne and raised her glass in a toast to herself — to the woman who had finally understood what it meant to live for herself.
Somewhere far away in Moscow, Valentina Petrovna was probably causing another scandal for Dmitry and Olga, demanding a solution to her housing problem. Somewhere there, her ex-husband was trying to find a way to get rid of his mother without looking like a bad son. Somewhere there, his new lover was learning what it was like to live with a hysterical mother-in-law.
And Lara was flying toward the sea and the sun, and for the first time in many years, she did not feel guilty toward anyone.
The plane gained altitude, and she smiled as she imagined having breakfast on the hotel terrace, reading a book on the beach, and falling asleep to the sound of waves. Two weeks just for herself — what a luxury.
Her phone lay switched off in her bag. And Lara had no intention of turning it on for a very long time.
Down below remained other people’s problems, other people’s complaints, and other people’s attempts to make her feel guilty. Ahead was her new life, where she herself decided whom to let into her home and whom to help.
The flight attendant announced the beginning of the descent. Lara finished her champagne and smiled at her reflection in the airplane window. Yes, perhaps she really had changed. She had become tougher. But was it really a bad thing to protect her boundaries?
The plane touched the runway, and Lara thought how symbolic it was. A landing into a new life.