“Shut up already!” Lyosha threw his keys onto the table so hard that they bounced with a clatter toward the edge. “I’m sick of listening to your whining!”
Liza froze by the stove, the spoon suspended in the air above the pot of soup. There it was. It had started. Again.
“I’m not whining,” she said quietly, without turning around. “I just asked why we need to…”
“Don’t stall and don’t make me angry!” he barked, and she flinched, though she had known it would be exactly like this today. She knew it from the way he had come in, from the squeak of his boots, from the way the door had slammed. She had already learned to read those signs. Six years of marriage was a good school. “You’ll sell your apartment, and we’ll buy a house. We’ll move Mom and my sister in with us! That’s it, it’s decided!”
Her apartment. That very one-room place on Sadovaya Street that her grandmother had left her. Tiny, with a faucet that was always leaking and radiators with peeling paint, but it was hers. The only thing that truly belonged to her.
Liza slowly turned around. Lyosha stood in the middle of the kitchen, shoulders squared, chin raised, his gaze heavy and impenetrable. Forty-two years old, athletic build that he was so proud of, red hair. A handsome man. Once, she had thought, How lucky I am.
“Lyosha, we already discussed this…” she began.
“We didn’t discuss anything!” he cut her off. “I said it, and you’ll do it. My mother lives alone in that dump. Sonya rents a room for insane money. And your apartment is sitting empty!”
“It isn’t sitting empty. I rent it out, and with that money we…”
“What money?!” He stepped closer, and Liza instinctively backed up toward the sink. “Your pathetic fifteen thousand? That’s a joke! You’ll sell it, we’ll get a decent sum, buy a house in Pavlovka, and we’ll all live together properly!”
Properly. Liza bit her lip. Living under the same roof with Klavdiya Sergeyevna — that was what he called “properly.” Her mother-in-law, who looked her up and down every time they met and clicked her tongue: “Not wearing makeup again? Lyoshenka, what kind of wife do you have, huh? Such a slob.”
“Lyosh, let’s talk calmly,” she tried, making an effort to keep her voice even. “Sit down, I’ll pour you…”
“I don’t need you to pour me anything!” he shouted, sharply yanking out a chair and sitting down. “What I need is for you to finally start thinking about someone other than yourself! Family isn’t just you, do you understand?! It’s my relatives too!”
Family. She turned back to the stove and switched off the burner. She no longer wanted the soup. And he wouldn’t eat it anyway — he would say it tasted bad, that she had oversalted it or undersalted it, that she didn’t know how to cook at all.
“Your mother hates me,” Liza said quietly.
“That’s absolute nonsense!” Lyosha slammed his fist on the table. “Mom loves you. She’s just strict! She needs a decent daughter-in-law, not…”
He didn’t finish, but Liza understood anyway. Not someone like you. Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not successful enough. Not enough in general.
Six years ago, everything had been different. He gave her flowers, took her to cafés, told her she was the best, that he couldn’t live without her. He proposed beautifully: on the roof of his building, with champagne and a view of the sunset sky. She had cried from happiness, kissed him, whispered, “Yes, yes, yes.” And Klavdiya Sergeyevna had already been looking at her coldly back then, telling her son, “Well, Lyoshenka, it’s your choice. Just make sure you don’t regret it later.”
He hadn’t regretted it. But she had.
“I don’t want to sell the apartment,” Liza said, and she herself was surprised by the firmness in her voice.
Lyosha slowly raised his head. Something dangerous flickered in his eyes.
“What did you say?”
“I said I don’t want to,” she repeated, and her heart began pounding somewhere in her throat, in her temples, in her wrists. “It’s all I have. Do you understand? The only thing that’s mine…”
“You have a husband!” he roared, jumping to his feet. “You have a family! Or don’t you care?”
“I do care, but…”
“No ‘buts’!” He stepped toward her, looming over her, and Liza felt her back turn cold. “Tomorrow you’re going to the MFC and filing the documents for the sale! I’ve already found a realtor. He knows a buyer! It’s all taken care of!”
All taken care of. Without her. Behind her back. He had already decided everything, planned everything — all that remained was to force her to sign.
“No,” Liza breathed.
Silence. Long, thick silence, in which the only thing she could hear was her own breathing — quick and ragged.
“You…” Lyosha narrowed his eyes. “Are you talking back to me?”
“I don’t want to sell the apartment.” She clenched her hands into fists, her nails pressing into the skin of her palms. No, not digging in, just pressing hard. “It’s mine. And I have the right…”
The doorbell tore through the moment. Sharp, insistent.
Lyosha swore through his teeth, turned around, and went to open the door. Liza leaned against the countertop, trying to catch her breath. Her legs were shaking. Her hands were shaking. Everything inside her was shaking — from fear, from anger, from hurt.
“Lyoshenka!” a painfully familiar voice rang out from the hallway. “My darling! I’ve been waiting for you so much!”
Klavdiya Sergeyevna. Of course. Who else?
Liza closed her eyes. So that was how it was. So the war wasn’t beginning tomorrow. It had begun right now.
Her mother-in-law appeared in the kitchen doorway — tall, heavyset, wearing an expensive sheepskin coat and carrying an enormous bag over her shoulder. Sonya squeezed in after her — quiet, pale, in a rumpled puffer jacket, with an eternally guilty expression on her face.
“Oh, Lizaveta,” Klavdiya Sergeyevna swept a quick glance over her, “always in those house rags. Lyosha, how do you tolerate it? She can’t even put on a little makeup or prepare herself for guests!”
“I didn’t know you were coming,” Liza answered evenly.
“You should know!” her mother-in-law snapped, taking off her coat. “A husband’s mother is always a welcome guest! Sonya, help me!”
Sonya silently took the outerwear, not looking at Liza. Twenty-eight years old, but she looked forty — gray, hounded, as if apologizing for her own existence.
“Well, did Lyosha tell you our news?” Klavdiya Sergeyevna sat down on a chair, filling the entire kitchen with her presence. “We’re moving! Finally, we’ll live properly, as one family!”
Liza said nothing, looking at her husband. He was standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at her defiantly. As if to say, See? Now try refusing.
“I’ve already found a house,” her mother-in-law continued, taking her phone out of her bag. “In Pavlovka. Two stories, six hundred square meters of land. It’s a little neglected, true, but that’s no problem! We’ll bring in workers and fix everything up. Everyone will have their own room, can you imagine? And a vegetable garden! I’ll plant potatoes there, cucumbers, tomatoes…”
“And where will Liza and I be?” Lyosha asked.
“What do you mean, where?” His mother raised her eyebrows in surprise. “With us, of course! There are two bedrooms on the second floor — one for you, one for Sonya and me. And everything close by, everyone together!”
Together. Forever. Klavdiya Sergeyevna behind the wall, Sonya at their side, Lyosha with new power, reinforced by his mother’s support.
“I will not sell the apartment,” Liza said clearly, almost syllable by syllable.
Three pairs of eyes stared at her. Klavdiya Sergeyevna set down her phone, Sonya froze in the doorway, and Lyosha turned crimson.
“What do you mean, you won’t sell it?” her mother-in-law asked slowly.
“Exactly that.” Liza felt something inside her break and let go. “That apartment is mine, and I don’t want to sell it.”
“Lyosha!” Klavdiya Sergeyevna screeched. “Do you hear what this… what your wife is saying?! Are you going to allow her to…”
“Shut up,” Liza said.
Another silence. But this one was different. Stunned.
Klavdiya Sergeyevna opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Sonya stood frozen in the doorway, clutching her mother’s sheepskin coat. Lyosha looked at his wife as if he were seeing her for the first time.
“What do you think you’re doing?” her mother-in-law was the first to recover, and her voice turned icy. “How dare you speak to your elders like that?”
“The same way you speak to me,” Liza felt a strange calm. As if some switch had clicked inside her and the fear had retreated. “For six years, I’ve listened to your comments. About my appearance, my cooking, the fact that I’m not worthy of your son. For six years, I stayed silent. But I won’t anymore.”
“Lizka, you’ve really gotten insolent!” Lyosha took a step forward, but she raised her hand, stopping him.
“Don’t come near me. And don’t call me that. I am Liza. Your wife, by the way. Not a servant and not an empty space.”
“How dare you…” he began, but she interrupted him.
“How dare I? Like this!” She felt a wave rising inside her, one she had held back for far too long. “You decided for me that I would sell my apartment? You already found a realtor, a buyer, arranged everything — and you didn’t even ask me! Then you come home and shout that I must obey!”
“I am the head of the family!” Lyosha barked. “And I…”
“The head of the family is not a tyrant!” Liza shouted, and she herself was startled by the strength of her own voice. “The head of the family doesn’t humiliate his wife, doesn’t command her like a soldier! The head of the family discusses things, respects, listens!”
Klavdiya Sergeyevna rose heavily from her chair. Her face had flushed red.
“Everything is clear,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Your little wife has spoiled, Lyosha. Completely out of control. Do you know what has to be done with women like that?”
“What?” Liza asked, looking straight into her eyes. “Beat them? Lock them up? Take away the last thing they have? You’ve already tried. But I’m not afraid anymore.”
“Mom, calm down,” Sonya suddenly said, timidly touching her mother’s sleeve.
“You shut up too!” Klavdiya Sergeyevna snapped, jerking her hand away. “I’m sick of your whining!”
Sonya shrank, as always. She lowered her eyes, hunched her shoulders, became even smaller. And suddenly Liza felt a sharp pity for this hounded woman, who had spent her whole life in the shadow of a domineering mother.
“So here’s how it will be,” Klavdiya Sergeyevna turned to her son. “Either she sells the apartment and we move, or… or you know what.”
Lyosha was silent, staring at the floor. Liza saw how tense his shoulders had become, how his jaw had clenched.
“Or what?” she asked quietly.
“Or divorce her!” her mother-in-law pronounced. “There’s no reason to keep such an ungrateful…”
“Enough!” Lyosha suddenly roared, and everyone flinched. “Mom, that’s enough!”
Klavdiya Sergeyevna widened her eyes.
“What is this, Lyoshenka? You’re not taking her side, are you?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side!” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sick of it! I’m sick of all of you — you, Mom, and you, Liza! I can’t do this anymore!”
He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and rushed toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Klavdiya Sergeyevna cried.
“To Mikhalych’s!” Lyosha threw over his shoulder. “I’ll have a beer and clear my head. You sort this out yourselves!”
The door slammed. Footsteps pounded down the stairs. Silence.
Klavdiya Sergeyevna slowly sank onto the chair. Her face had grown drawn, aged by ten years.
“Look what you’ve done,” she whispered, staring at Liza with hatred. “You turned my son against me. Against his own mother.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Liza said tiredly. “You did it yourself. For years, you pressured him, decided for him, interfered in our life…”
“I am his mother!” her mother-in-law flared up. “I have the right!”
“No,” Liza answered firmly. “You don’t. He has his own family now. His own life.”
“What family?!” Klavdiya Sergeyevna snorted. “Did you give him children? At least Sonya will give me grandchildren one day, but you…”
“Mom, stop,” Sonya asked quietly.
“Don’t interfere!” her mother snapped, but Sonya suddenly straightened and raised her head.
“No, I won’t stop,” her voice trembled, but it sounded firmer than usual. “Enough already. Enough hurting everyone, ordering everyone around. I’m almost thirty, and I live like… like…”
“Like what?!” Klavdiya Sergeyevna exploded.
“Like your shadow!” Sonya shouted, and her eyes glistened with tears. “You decide where I live, who I date, what I wear! I don’t even have a voice!”
“That’s because you’ll be lost without me!” her mother yelled. “You’re nobody. You’re nothing!”
“And whose fault is that?!” Sonya sobbed, but did not back down. “You made me this way! Downtrodden, frightened! When Ilya proposed to me, you drove him away! You said he wasn’t good enough! And he… he loved me…”
“Loved you,” Klavdiya Sergeyevna gave a contemptuous snort. “He married someone else six months later! There’s your love!”
“Because you humiliated him!” Sonya screamed. “In front of me! You said he was a penniless loser, that he wasn’t a match for me! He couldn’t take it…”
Liza silently looked at her sister. Or rather, her sister-in-law — they weren’t blood relatives, after all. But in that moment, Liza felt closer to Sonya than she ever had.
“Sonya,” she called quietly. “Would you like some tea?”
Sonya turned, sniffled, and nodded. Liza took the kettle and switched it on. Her hands were trembling, but she managed — filled it with water, took out cups, tea leaves.
“Are you having a tea party?!” Klavdiya Sergeyevna said indignantly. “After this?!”
“Especially after this, tea is needed,” Liza answered calmly. “With mint. It soothes.”
She silently poured the tea into cups, placed one in front of Sonya and another in front of her mother-in-law. Klavdiya Sergeyevna looked at the tea as if it were poisoned.
“I don’t need your tea,” she hissed.
“As you wish.” Liza shrugged and sat across from Sonya. Sonya wrapped her palms around the cup, breathing in the minty steam.
“Liz,” she whispered. “Forgive me. I always stayed silent when Mom… I was ashamed, but I was afraid…”
“I know,” Liza nodded. “It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t all right!” Sonya raised her red eyes to her. “You’re a good person. You were always kind, patient. And we… and Mom…”
“Enough!” Klavdiya Sergeyevna barked, jumping to her feet. “Get ready, Sonya! We’re leaving! We’re no longer welcome here!”
“I’m not going,” Sonya said quietly.
“What?!”
“I’m not going,” she repeated, without raising her eyes. “I’m tired. Of scandals, of shouting. Of you deciding everything for me. I… I want to live on my own. My own way.”
Klavdiya Sergeyevna swayed. For a second, Liza thought she was about to fall. But her mother-in-law straightened, gritting her teeth.
“Betrayed,” she hissed. “Everyone betrayed me. My son and my daughter. Fine then. Live however you want. Just don’t come crawling back later. Don’t ask me for anything!”
She grabbed her sheepskin coat and pulled it on, missing the sleeves. Sonya sat with her face lowered toward the cup, not lifting her head. Liza remained silent, feeling everything inside her tighten from tension.
“You’ll regret this!” Klavdiya Sergeyevna threw from the doorway. “All of you will regret it!”
The door slammed. Again.
Silence. Long, exhausting silence.
“Will she come back?” Sonya asked, without lifting her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Liza answered honestly.
“I’m scared,” her sister-in-law whispered. “I’ve been with her my whole life. I don’t know how to live without her…”
“You’ll learn.” Liza covered Sonya’s hand with her own. “We both will.”
Keys jingled in the hallway. Lyosha. He had come back.
He entered the kitchen slowly, as if afraid to frighten away something fragile. His face was drawn, tired. He smelled of cigarettes and cold air.
“Did Mom leave?” he asked quietly.
“She left,” Liza confirmed.
Lyosha nodded and sat on the edge of a chair. He was silent for a long time, studying his hands. Sonya stood up, murmured something about the bathroom, and quickly left, leaving the two of them alone.
“I didn’t go to Mikhalych’s,” Lyosha finally said. “I just sat on the bench by the entrance. Smoked. Thought.”
Liza said nothing. She waited.
“Do you know what I thought about?” He raised his eyes to her, and there was something new in them, something she hadn’t seen for a long time. Confusion? Shame? “That I’ve turned into my father. Remember, I told you about him? How he shouted at Mom, how he bossed her around, how she was afraid to say a word against him…”
“I remember,” Liza answered quietly.
“I swore to myself I would never become like that. And then I got married, and…” He clenched his fists. “And I became a copy of him. I shouted, demanded, humiliated. God, Liz, what was I doing?”
She didn’t know what to answer. Part of her wanted to go to him, hug him, say everything would be all right. The other part — the one that had been silent and endured for six years — stayed silent now too.
“You don’t have to sell the apartment,” Lyosha said. “It’s yours. And Mom and Sonya… let them decide for themselves where to live. Sonya is an adult. It’s time for her to separate. And Mom… Mom will survive.”
“Lyosh…”
“Don’t interrupt,” he raised his hand. “Let me finish. I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to change. Maybe I’ll lose my temper again, shout again. It’s buried so deep inside me… But I’ll try. I want to try. If you… if you haven’t already decided to leave.”
Liza looked at him — at the man she had married six years ago. She searched his face for something familiar, the thing that had once made her say “yes.” And it seemed she found it. Barely visible, but it was there.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “I need time.”
He nodded, not insisting.
Sonya came out of the bathroom — confused, frightened, but with some new sparkle in her eyes.
“Liz,” she called uncertainly. “Could I… could I spend the night here? On the sofa?”
“Of course.” Liza smiled. “I’ll make the bed now.”
Lyosha stood up and went to the window. He stood with his back to them, looking into the darkness beyond the glass.
“You know what,” he suddenly said without turning around. “Maybe we really should buy a house. Just without Mom. For the three of us. So everyone has their own room. And a garden. Sonya can plant flowers. She loves working with the earth, doesn’t she?”
Sonya blinked in surprise.
“How do you know?”
“I know.” He turned around, and a strange, almost childlike smile flickered across his face. “When you were little, you were always disappearing in the garden at the dacha. Remember how you grew roses?”
“I remember,” Sonya whispered, and her lips trembled.
Liza looked at both of them — at her husband, who perhaps, for the first time in years, had seen her as a person and not as property. At her sister-in-law, who only today had dared to say “no” to her mother. At the kitchen, where scandals had thundered only an hour ago, and now something resembling hope hovered in the air.
“A house is an interesting idea,” she said slowly. “But with the money I earn from renting out my apartment. And we’ll decide together. All three of us. Agreed?”
Lyosha nodded. Sonya did too.
Outside the window, the first snow was falling — unexpected, absurd at the end of October. White flakes swirled in the lamplight, settled on the windowsill, turning the courtyard into a fairy tale.
“Look,” Sonya stepped up to the window and pressed her palm against the cold glass. “Snow. Early this year.”
“Maybe it means changes are coming,” Lyosha gave a faint smile.
Liza said nothing, looking out the window. Somewhere out there, in the white whirl, her old life was disappearing — obedient, quiet, long-suffering. And ahead, beyond that curtain of snow, something new loomed. Frightening and alluring at the same time.
Will I have time to make out what it is? she thought. And immediately answered herself: Of course. Now I definitely will.
The kettle on the stove whistled softly, reminding them of something simple and important. That life goes on. It always goes on.
