“Irina, Mom asked you to buy more blood pressure drops. The ones you brought yesterday didn’t work.”
Irina lowered the grocery bags onto the hallway floor and wiped her forehead with her sleeve. The October rains had turned the walk from the store into a real ordeal, and the heavy bags filled with medicine and diet food had made the trip even harder. Arkady met his wife at the door, but instead of helping her, he handed her a list.
“Irina, Mom asked you to buy more blood pressure drops. The ones you brought yesterday didn’t work.”
The woman looked at the scribbled sheet of paper and sighed. In the three weeks since her mother-in-law, Valentina Nikolaevna, had moved into their two-room apartment, lists like this had begun appearing every day. One medicine was unsuitable, another ran out faster than expected.
“Arkady, can’t you go to the pharmacy yourself? I had a hard day at work today, and I’ve just brought home groceries for the whole week.”
Her husband grimaced and shook his head.
“You know I have to get up early tomorrow. Besides, you understand medicines better.”
Irina wanted to object that neither of them had any medical education, but she stayed silent. Arkady had already headed into the living room, where Valentina Nikolaevna was settled on the sofa with the television remote in her hand.
When her husband had announced three weeks earlier that his mother was moving in, Irina had taken it as a temporary measure. Valentina Nikolaevna complained of high blood pressure and heart problems, and living alone in her one-room apartment had become difficult. Arkady assured his wife that it would not be for long, only until his mother recovered and could return to living independently.
“Irinochka, dear,” Valentina Nikolaevna called from the living room, “could you bring me a glass of water? And put my pill next to it. It’s time for my medicine.”
Irina took off her coat, hung it on the rack, and went to the kitchen. In that time, Arkady had managed to turn up the television and settle into an armchair beside his mother. He was scrolling through something on his phone, occasionally glancing at the screen.
As she poured the water, Irina thought about how drastically her life had changed over the past few weeks. In the morning before work, she had to prepare breakfast for three, make sure Valentina Nikolaevna took her morning pills, and leave lunch in the refrigerator. In the evening came shopping, cooking dinner, cleaning, and once again giving medicine according to schedule.
“Irinochka, where is my pill?” her mother-in-law repeated.
“I’m bringing it.”
Irina took the necessary medicine from the first-aid box and brought the water and pill into the living room. Valentina Nikolaevna swallowed the tablet and nodded.
“Thank you, dear. And what are you planning to cook for dinner? Just remember, I can’t have anything fatty or salty. And the jam you bought was too sweet for diabetics.”
Irina frowned and tilted her head, trying to remember when she had managed to forget that her mother-in-law did not actually have diabetes. Valentina Nikolaevna was constantly inventing new dietary restrictions, referring to imaginary illnesses or food intolerances.
“I’ll make stewed vegetables with chicken,” Irina replied.
“Can you make it without carrots? Carrots give me heartburn.”
“All right, without carrots.”
Arkady did not even look up from his phone. He treated his wife’s care for his mother as something natural and self-evident. Whenever Irina tried to ask for help or suggested dividing the responsibilities, her husband answered with the same standard phrases.
“You’re a woman, that’s your responsibility,” Arkady said whenever Irina asked him to take his mother to the doctor or buy medicine.
“Mom is used to a woman’s care. You handle it better,” he brushed her off whenever the subject came up of helping Valentina Nikolaevna take a bath or change clothes.
Irina went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, while Valentina Nikolaevna turned on some television series at full volume. As Irina chopped vegetables, she thought about how her mother-in-law looked perfectly healthy. Valentina Nikolaevna moved around the apartment easily, went to the bathroom by herself, and could spend hours watching television or talking on the phone with her friends. But the moment Irina appeared in her field of vision, tasks requiring help immediately appeared.
“Irinochka, could you wipe the dust off the nightstand? My allergy might flare up.”
“Irinochka, bring me the blanket from the bedroom. It’s getting a bit chilly.”
“Irinochka, check whether I arranged my pills correctly. I’m afraid I might mix them up.”
Valentina Nikolaevna seemed to wait deliberately for the moments when Irina passed by or sat down to rest. Every time, there was some small request that was impossible to ignore without risking appearing rude and heartless.
Half an hour later, dinner was ready. Irina set the table and called her husband and mother-in-law. Valentina Nikolaevna slowly rose from the sofa, holding on to the backrest.
“Oh, my back hurts terribly from this sofa. We really should replace the mattress.”
Arkady nodded.
“Irina, tomorrow go to the furniture store and see what orthopedic options they have.”
Irina stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork.
“Why me? You have a day off tomorrow.”
“But you understand these things better. Besides, I need to take the car to the service center.”
“Arkady, I don’t understand mattresses any better than you do. And besides, it’s for your mother, so it would be logical for you to choose it yourself.”
Valentina Nikolaevna joined the conversation.
“Irinochka, don’t get so upset. I understand it’s hard for you, but who else will help me? Arkady works all day and gets tired. Women are more attentive in these matters.”
Blood rushed to Irina’s face. She put her fork down on the plate and looked at her husband.
“I work no less than you do. And I get tired too. Why should all the care for your mother fall only on me?”
“Because you are the wife,” Arkady replied calmly. “A man earns money, and a woman runs the household and takes care of the family.”
“We both earn the same amount of money. But somehow you dump the household and the care of your sick mother entirely on me.”
Valentina Nikolaevna shook her head.
“Oh, what times we live in. Women used to be proud that they could take care of their elders. And now everyone only demands rights.”
Irina stood up from the table.
“I am not demanding special rights. I just don’t understand why your son can’t share the responsibility of caring for his own mother.”
“Because Arkady has other duties,” her mother-in-law answered sharply. “And you, as his wife, have the duty to care for his parents.”
“Duty?” Irina repeated.
“Of course. When you get married, you take on responsibility for his relatives. That is the law of life.”
Arkady nodded, supporting his mother.
“Mom is right. You knew what you were getting into when we got married.”
Irina clapped her hands, unable to hold back her growing outrage.
“So your logic is this: I work as much as you do, pay for the apartment equally with you, and on top of that, I’m supposed to be a free caregiver for your mother? And meanwhile you can sit calmly in your armchair and scroll through your phone?”
“Don’t shout at my mother,” Arkady warned. “And yes, that’s exactly how it is. If you don’t like it, you can pack your things.”
Valentina Nikolaevna smiled with satisfaction.
“Exactly. No one is keeping you here by force. If you don’t want to fulfill your duties as a wife, get out.”
Irina froze in place, blinking, not knowing how to react to such shamelessness. Valentina Nikolaevna continued eating calmly, while Arkady had already taken out his phone again and was scrolling through the news feed.
“I see,” Irina said quietly. “So in your opinion, I’m here only to serve the two of you.”
“Serve is a strong word,” her mother-in-law smirked. “You’re simply fulfilling natural female duties.”
“And what do I get in return?”
“A roof over your head,” Arkady replied.
“A roof over my head? Arkady, this apartment is registered in my name. I bought it before our wedding.”
Her husband shrugged.
“So what? We live together now, so it’s our shared home.”
“No, Arkady. Legally, this apartment belongs to me. And if someone here doesn’t like the conditions, then the person who doesn’t like them can pack their things.”
Arkady put down his phone and looked at his wife carefully.
“Irina, are you serious right now?”
“Absolutely serious.”
“So you’re ready to throw my sick mother out onto the street?”
“I’m ready to throw out a healthy woman who pretends to be sick and demands that I become her personal servant.”
Valentina Nikolaevna became indignant.
“How dare you! I have serious health problems!”
“Which ones exactly?” Irina asked directly. “Blood pressure? Three days ago you watched an action movie at full volume until two in the morning. Your heart? Yesterday you spent half the day moving things around the apartment and rearranging furniture. Diabetes? I saw you eating the candies you hid in the nightstand.”
“You’re making all of that up!” her mother-in-law exclaimed.
“I’m not making anything up. You’re as healthy as a horse, but you decided that I should serve you simply because I’m your son’s wife.”
Arkady abruptly stood up from the table.
“Irina, apologize to my mother immediately!”
“I won’t apologize. Because I’m telling the truth.”
“Then make your choice,” her husband said harshly. “Either you fully provide for and take care of my mother, or you pack your things and get out!”
Blood rushed to Irina’s face, revealing the fury she was barely managing to restrain. The woman sharply slammed shut the folder of receipts lying on the table.
“This is my apartment, and I will not take on other people’s debts and burdens!” Irina answered loudly.
Arkady jumped up and began shouting.
“A son’s duty is above everything! My mother gave birth to me, fed me, raised me, helped me stand on my own two feet! And who are you anyway? A temporary fellow traveler!”
“Exactly!” Valentina Nikolaevna agreed. “Arkady is my only son, my support. Wives come and go.”
“A temporary fellow traveler in my own apartment?” Irina repeated. “Arkady, do you even understand what you’re saying?”
“I do! And I’m saying it correctly! A mother is more important than any wife! A man has one mother, but he can have many wives!”
Valentina Nikolaevna nodded, encouraging her son to continue.
“That’s right! I made Arkady into a respectable man, gave him an education, helped him find work. And what have you done for him? You only make demands!”
Irina clapped her hands, unable to contain the emotions overflowing inside her.
“Bravo! What a wonderful plan — living off my back! Valentina Nikolaevna pretends to be sick, Arkady pretends to be a busy man, and I’m supposed to serve everyone! Brilliant!”
“Shut up!” her husband roared. “My mother is sick. She needs help!”
“Sick?” Irina smirked. “Valentina Nikolaevna, show Arkady how you danced to music yesterday when you thought I wasn’t home!”
Her mother-in-law turned pale.
“I didn’t dance! You’re making all of this up!”
“Making it up? Then who spent three hours exercising by the open window, waving her arms and doing squats?”
“That was therapeutic exercise!” Valentina Nikolaevna quickly found an excuse.
“Therapeutic exercise to Alla Pugacheva songs?” Irina said sarcastically.
Arkady raised his hand, calling for silence.
“Enough! Even if Mom is feeling better, that doesn’t change the fact that she is an elderly woman and needs care!”
“Then let her be cared for by her own son, not by some unrelated woman!” Irina snapped.
“Unrelated woman?” Arkady exploded. “You’re my wife!”
“A wife, not a slave! And not a part-time caregiver!”
Their voices grew louder and louder. Valentina Nikolaevna also joined the quarrel, accusing Irina of coldness and selfishness. Arkady shouted about ingratitude and women’s duties. Irina answered that she had no intention of becoming a free servant.
The scandal could be heard far beyond the apartment. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Irina opened it and saw Elena Ivanovna, the neighbor from the apartment across the hall.
“Irochka, what is going on in there? The whole building can hear the shouting.”
Behind Elena Ivanovna stood two more neighbors, peering into the open doorway with undisguised curiosity. Arkady appeared in the hallway and answered rudely:
“Nothing special! Family matters!”
“What kind of matters?” the neighbor persisted. “There’s so much swearing coming from there!”
“It’s none of anyone’s business!” Arkady barked and tried to slam the door.
Irina stopped him.
“Elena Ivanovna, everything is fine. My husband and his mother simply think they can dictate conditions in my apartment.”
“In your apartment?” the neighbor asked in surprise.
“In mine. The apartment is registered in my name. I bought it before the wedding.”
Valentina Nikolaevna looked out from the living room.
“Don’t listen to her! Ungrateful woman! She’s throwing a sick woman onto the street!”
“What sick woman?” Elena Ivanovna asked. “Valentina Nikolaevna, I saw you the day before yesterday carrying bags from the market. You looked healthier than young people.”
Her mother-in-law became embarrassed.
“I went to buy medicine…”
“Medicine with three bags of vegetables?” the neighbor smirked.
Irina realized the situation was spinning out of control and made a decision. She took out her phone and dialed a number.
“Hello, police? I would like to report a scandal and pressure inside my own apartment. The address is…”
“What are you doing?!” Arkady asked in fright.
“I’m calling on the law for help,” Irina replied calmly. “Since you don’t understand things peacefully, we’ll handle it officially.”
Valentina Nikolaevna clutched her chest.
“Oh, I feel ill! My blood pressure is rising!”
“Mom, sit down,” Arkady fussed. “Irina, have you completely lost your mind? You’ve driven a sick woman to a heart attack!”
“Driven her?” Irina repeated. “Valentina Nikolaevna, stop acting. If you really had heart problems, you wouldn’t be staging scandals like this.”
The neighbors exchanged glances, and Elena Ivanovna shook her head.
“Listen, why call the police? Maybe you can sort this out yourselves?”
“We can’t,” Irina said firmly. “For three weeks I tried to solve the problem peacefully. Now let those who understand property rights deal with it.”
Twenty minutes later, two police officers appeared in the stairwell. The senior officer, Igor Petrovich, politely greeted everyone and asked them to explain what had happened.
“Here’s the situation,” Arkady began. “My wife is causing a scandal and throwing my sick mother out of the house!”
“Out of which house?” the second police officer clarified.
“Ours! We live here!”
“And who has the documents for the apartment?”
Arkady hesitated.
“Well… formally, my wife does, but we’re married!”
Igor Petrovich turned to Irina.
“Show me the housing documents.”
Irina brought the ownership certificate. The police officer carefully examined the papers.
“I see. The apartment is registered in your name. Who else is registered here?”
“Only me,” Irina answered. “My husband is registered at his mother’s place, and his mother is registered there too.”
“So you are the only owner and the only registered resident?”
“Yes.”
“And on what grounds are the others here?”
“I allowed my husband to live with me after the wedding. And he brought his mother here temporarily, saying she was ill.”
Valentina Nikolaevna tried to interrupt.
“Young man, I have serious health problems! I cannot live alone!”
“Do you have medical documents?” Igor Petrovich asked.
“What documents?”
“Disability certificates, doctors’ conclusions stating that you require outside care.”
Her mother-in-law became confused.
“Well… I’m not disabled… I just feel unwell sometimes…”
“I see,” the officer nodded. “So there are no medical indications for permanent care.”
Arkady tried to defend his mother.
“But she’s elderly! It’s hard for her to be alone!”
“How old are you?” the second officer asked Valentina Nikolaevna.
“Sixty-two…”
“Retirement age, but not extreme old age. Can you work?”
“Theoretically… but my health doesn’t allow it…”
“What specific illnesses?”
Valentina Nikolaevna got tangled in her answers, first mentioning blood pressure, then her heart, then her joints. The police officers exchanged glances.
Igor Petrovich turned to Arkady.
“Citizen, do you work?”
“Yes.”
“Does your income allow you to rent separate housing for your mother or for yourself and your mother?”
“In principle… yes… but why, if there is room here?”
“There is room, but this is your wife’s private property. And if the owner does not want to provide housing, no one can force her to.”
“But we’re married!” Arkady protested.
“Marriage does not automatically give rights to a spouse’s housing if it was acquired before the relationship was registered,” the officer explained.
Irina felt relief. Finally, someone had explained the legal side of the issue.
“So I have the right to ask them to leave the apartment?”
“You do. You are the owner. The other people are not registered here and live here with your consent. If you withdraw that consent, they must vacate the premises.”
Valentina Nikolaevna began to cry.
“Where am I supposed to go? Onto the street?”
“Do you have your own housing?” Igor Petrovich clarified.
“Yes… a one-room apartment…”
“Then you have somewhere to go. Your son can help you, rent something bigger, or move in with you.”
Arkady understood that he was losing.
“Irina, you won’t really throw us out onto the street, will you? We are still family!”
“I will,” his wife replied calmly. “Because you treat me like a free servant, not like family.”
The police officers required Arkady and his mother to collect their personal belongings and leave the apartment. When they tried to delay, citing the late hour, Igor Petrovich reminded them that Valentina Nikolaevna had her own housing in the same city.
“And leave the keys,” the second officer added. “They belong to the owner of the apartment.”
Arkady reluctantly placed the set of keys on the cabinet in the hallway. Valentina Nikolaevna did the same, casting Irina a look full of hatred.
“Remember my words,” her mother-in-law hissed. “This will not end well. My son will come back to you, and I will be against it!”
“We’ll see,” Irina answered calmly.
An hour later, Arkady and his mother left the apartment. The police officers wrote up a report about the call and gave Irina a copy.
“This document may be useful if there are attempts at illegal entry into the apartment,” Igor Petrovich explained.
The next morning, Irina took a day off work and went to the district court. She filed for divorce, attaching the police report as proof that living together had become impossible.
The court clerk explained that since there was practically no jointly acquired property and no children, the divorce would go through a simplified procedure in one month.
When she returned home, Irina felt real peace for the first time in a long while. The apartment was quiet. No one demanded that she bring medicine, prepare special food, or wipe dust. No one turned the television up to full volume or staged hysterics.
The woman brewed herself some tea, sat down in her favorite armchair, and thought about the future. Irina made a firm decision: her home would never again become a shelter at her expense. Any relationship had to be built on mutual respect and equal participation in solving problems.
A week later, Arkady tried to return. He came with flowers and apologies, promising that everything would change. But Irina did not open the door.
“It’s too late, Arkady,” she said through the intercom. “I have filed for divorce. My decision is final.”
“But I love you!” her husband shouted from downstairs.
“You love me? Then why did you treat me like a servant for three weeks?”
Arkady tried to explain that it had been a temporary misunderstanding, that his mother would no longer interfere, that he had understood everything. But Irina knew: people do not change in one week. Someone who was able to turn his wife into a free caregiver would do it again at the first opportunity.
A month later, the divorce was officially finalized. Irina received the stamp in her passport and felt completely free. No one could dictate conditions in her own home anymore. No one could turn her into service staff under the guise of family obligations.
Order and calm settled in the apartment. Irina could come home from work and rest instead of running around with medicine and demands. She could cook what she herself wanted, instead of adjusting to the imaginary diets of imaginary patients.
The woman understood the most important thing: a real family is built on mutual support and respect. What her husband and his mother had tried to impose on her was ordinary exploitation disguised with beautiful words about duty and obligation.