What Did You Expect? Once You’re Married, Your Place Is in the Kitchen
“Come in, Marina. Dinner needs to be cooked, the groceries are in the bag in the kitchen. The laundry is in the basket. Dust the living room too — I haven’t had time to do it in ages,” her future mother-in-law listed quickly, then added as if by chance, “And Vanya and I will watch a film in the living room for now.”
Marina was twenty-seven. As her mother, Svetlana Vladimirovna, liked to say, her daughter had barely managed to jump into the last carriage of the train in time to get married. At her age, no one else would take her.
And the man who had agreed to marry Marina was Ivan, the son of her mother’s friend. Svetlana Vladimirovna had praised him endlessly: smart, well-mannered, and from a good family. Marina, on the other hand, was presented as if she were somehow defective.
It was not as though Marina was unattractive or flawed. No, everything was perfectly normal with her. She was an ordinary young woman: she had graduated from university, found a job, liked sports and embroidery. Nothing extraordinary, but far from the worst option.
Still, every day her mother drilled the same thing into her:
“Marina, hold on to Vanechka, or you’ll be lost. You won’t find another man like him at your age. Do you understand that you’re almost thirty? At that age, women are of no use to anyone.”
“Mom, why are you saying such things…” Marina would timidly try to object. “Women get married at forty nowadays. Age doesn’t stop anyone.”
“Have you been reading that nonsense on the internet again?” Svetlana Vladimirovna would dismiss her. “Real life is completely different!”
Marina would sigh and fall silent. She was used to the fact that her life seemed to belong to her mother. Svetlana Vladimirovna decided whom her daughter should date, what she should wear, and where she should go.
Her relationship with Ivan had not begun by chance. Svetlana Vladimirovna had persuaded her friend Lena to bring the two young people together.
“Aunt Lena is coming today,” Svetlana Vladimirovna once told her daughter. “Help set the table. Everything must be perfect.”
“Why the table? You usually just sit in the kitchen and drink tea.”
“Because I said so! And don’t ask unnecessary questions,” her mother said, carefully spreading a festive tablecloth over the table. “And dress up nicely. Lena is coming with her son.”
“With her son? The one who works in IT?”
“Yes, Vanechka. That’s enough! Stop asking questions. Go change. And hurry up!”
And so, a month after they met, Marina was already sitting at the family table in her future mother-in-law’s home, while Ivan introduced her as his girlfriend. Svetlana Vladimirovna mentally clapped her hands with delight. Everything had worked out so neatly.
And, at first, things seemed fine. Ivan really was polite, attentive, and not stingy. But Marina could not shake the feeling that he had chosen her not out of great love, but simply because she was a convenient option and because it was time for him to get married.
Sometimes in the evenings she caught herself thinking, “Does he love me? And do I love him?”
But then she immediately remembered her mother’s words: “Just try letting him slip away. You’ll regret it later.”
Svetlana Vladimirovna and her friend Elena Ivanovna began calling each other more often and discussing their children’s future plans. Both women were certain: they had to take matters into their own hands.
“Lena, I’ve been thinking,” Elena Ivanovna began. “For everything to work out well for our children, we need to test Marinochka. Let her live with us for a while first. At least for a couple of months. Vanya and I will see what she’s like at home. She seems like a good girl, but I’m still uneasy. What if she’s lazy? What if she can’t cook?”
“Yes, of course,” Svetlana Vladimirovna eagerly agreed. “Let her live with you, and then we’ll decide.”
The women believed they were taking a wise and proper step. Marina, however, knew nothing about that conversation. Ivan knew, but he did not dare tell his beloved. He merely shrugged and thought it was easier this way: his mother would be calm, Svetlana Vladimirovna would be satisfied, and Marina… well, Marina was used to obeying everyone anyway.
“Marina, maybe you could stay with us for a little while?” he suggested casually one evening. “While we’re preparing for the wedding. So we can be closer, and you can help Mom.”
“Me?” the girl asked in surprise. “But we’re not even married yet…”
“Yes, and what’s the problem?” Vanya smirked. “You’ll move in later anyway. This way we’ll at least get used to each other.”
“I thought we were going to live separately. Like you promised. Aren’t we?”
“Of course, we will. Just a little later…”
Marina nodded. Something anxious flashed in her eyes, but she said nothing more. She did not even suspect that she had become a puppet in the hands of two grown women. And Ivan’s love was not sincere or honest at all.
Vanya continued courting her, giving her flowers and sometimes taking Marina to the cinema, but more and more often he seemed indifferent. Besides, his proud title of “IT specialist” gradually fell apart. In reality, Vanya worked at a small warehouse company, where he helped repair printers, set up computers, and occasionally reinstalled software. There were no major developments or projects like the ones Elena Ivanovna had bragged about.
Marina found this out by accident when she stopped by his workplace with lunch. Svetlana Vladimirovna insisted that good wives did exactly that, and that Marina herself could eat in the evening. The office turned out to be a cramped little room with two desks piled with broken system units and bundles of wires. Vanya was sitting on a chair, holding an old mouse in his hands.
“Vanya, you said you had serious projects…” Marina said, confused.
“Well…” he scratched the back of his head. “Mom just embellished things a little. She thinks I still have everything ahead of me.”
“I see…” Marina murmured, handing him the bag with containers of pasta and cutlets.
Marina returned to work and could not stop thinking. Her intuition kept telling her not to rush. She and Vanya had known each other for only three months — was that really enough time to think about marriage, let alone moving into his house? But every time Marina tried to voice her doubts, her mother’s words rose before her eyes:
“Marina, don’t miss your chance. You won’t find another fool like him! Who else would even look at you?”
And the girl fell silent. With a mother like that, it was difficult to build any kind of trusting relationship, so Marina had never told her about her boyfriends.
One day Ivan invited her to his home.
“Come over tonight,” he said on the phone. “Mom will be happy.”
Marina agreed, thinking it would be an ordinary visit: tea, conversation, maybe dinner. But what awaited her in the apartment was something entirely different.
As soon as she crossed the threshold, Elena Ivanovna greeted her with a detached look.
“Come in, Marina. Dinner needs to be cooked, the groceries are in the bag in the kitchen. The laundry is in the basket. Dust the living room too — I haven’t had time to do it in ages,” her future mother-in-law listed quickly, then added as if by chance, “And Vanya and I will watch a film in the living room for now.”
At first, Marina did not understand that she was serious.
“Excuse me… I’m supposed to cook dinner?” she asked timidly.
“What confuses you?” Elena Ivanovna smirked coldly. “You’re going to be my son’s wife. It’s time to show what you can do. Or did you think you’d only receive flowers and go to the movies? Vanechka has already spent more than fifteen thousand on you. So it’s time for you to repay everything we’ve invested in you.”
Marina felt her face flush with shame. She looked at Vanya, hoping he would intervene somehow. But Ivan only looked confidently at his beloved and said:
“Mom wanted you to prove yourself…”
And then Marina realized this was not hospitality. It was a housekeeping test invented by two grown women, and she had become the test subject.
Her heart tightened. Marina silently went into the kitchen and opened the grocery bags, but everything inside her was boiling.
“That’s better. She was acting like she didn’t understand anything,” Elena Ivanovna said, heading into the living room with her son.
“Am I really supposed to prove my worth by frying cutlets and washing floors? Is that love? Is that how families are built?” Marina thought as she stood in someone else’s kitchen.
Marina stood for a few seconds by the table with the groceries, sighed heavily, and decided to play by their rules — but slightly change the outcome.
She cut the meat far too small, tossed it into the frying pan, and left it to cook on high heat. The smell of burning filled the kitchen, but Marina merely stirred it indifferently with a wooden spatula, pouring in salt so generously that it was as if she were salting a road in winter. She dumped the pasta into boiling water and took it out after just a couple of minutes, undercooked and still slightly crunchy.
“Well, perfect,” she muttered quietly, turning off the stove.
She served everything on the table and did not even wait for approval. She took a cloth and went to dust the living room. She did it as if she were simply moving her hand back and forth — streaks remained, and in some places the dust was not removed at all. As for the laundry, Marina forgot about it completely.
When Elena Ivanovna sat down to dinner with her son, her face instantly twisted.
“What kind of nightmare is this? The meat is impossibly oversalted, and the pasta is raw!” she exclaimed indignantly. “And you, Vanya, even praised her cooking skills!”
At that moment, Marina calmly folded the cloth onto the shelf and said:
“Thank you for the evening. It’s time for me to go home.”
She put on her jacket and left, leaving them at the table.
Later that evening, Svetlana Vladimirovna’s phone rang. On the other end was Elena Ivanovna, her voice trembling with outrage.
“Sveta, your Marina is a complete nightmare! She can’t cook at all! She smeared dust all over the furniture and didn’t even think about doing the laundry. I’ll say it plainly — I will not tolerate such a daughter-in-law in my home. And I won’t let my Vanya near her again!”
Svetlana Vladimirovna tried to defend her daughter, but her friend was unyielding.
“No, that’s enough. I thought we were going to become family, but it turns out we wasted our time. Our friendship is over.”
Svetlana Vladimirovna put the phone down on the table. She felt bitter — not so much for Marina, but for her own failed plans. A few minutes later, Svetlana Vladimirovna called her daughter for a serious conversation.
“What did you do today? You had an exam, and you failed it!”
“A housekeeping exam? Like at school?” Marina smirked. “I thought you genuinely wanted to arrange my life. But all of this looked like mockery. Vanya was supposed to be a king and a god, and I was supposed to be his servant. Is that how we were meant to live in the future? Do you really hate me that much? I don’t understand… Don’t you want your daughter to be happy?”
“You’re just stupid and inexperienced! You don’t know what happiness is.”
“But I know for sure that happiness doesn’t have to be earned by cooking and cleaning in someone else’s house.”
“It wouldn’t have been someone else’s house if you hadn’t behaved that way. Just disgusting! Leave. I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Go and think about your behavior.”
Marina left. And she thought. Then she decided that enough was enough — she would no longer live with her parents. It was time to walk her own path. The next day, she packed her things and left her parents’ home.
Marina rented a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. She had been saving money since her first student jobs — sometimes just a little, sometimes more. And now she had enough for a down payment. The bank approved her mortgage, and although many long years of payments lay ahead, Marina felt the taste of true freedom for the first time.
The one-room apartment was cramped and located on the first floor of an old Khrushchev-era building, but it was her own space, where no one told her how to live or what to do.
“Small, but mine,” she smiled the first time she locked the door behind her with her brand-new key.
The walls in the apartment needed renovation, and the floor needed replacing, but Marina felt happy. She bought a second-hand sofa on sale, a small table, and a couple of chairs. Gradually, she began settling in: she brought her books, arranged her embroidery, and placed flowers around the apartment.
Now, in the evenings, Marina no longer returned to a home where she was constantly criticized, nor to strangers who expected flawless cleaning service from her. She returned to her own cozy space.
When Svetlana Vladimirovna found out that her daughter had bought an apartment, she was beside herself with outrage.
“Have you completely lost your mind? A mortgage? For a first-floor apartment in a Khrushchevka? Who does that? You should have held on to Vanechka — he would have supported you!” Svetlana Vladimirovna shouted.
But Marina answered calmly:
“Vanechka? I’ve been dating another man for a long time now. He’s caring, earns his own money, and lives separately from his parents. And your Vanechka will keep living with his mommy for the rest of his life.”
Her mother almost choked at such insolence.
“How dare you? Do you really think you deserve something better?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think. And stop trying to fill me with insecurities. It doesn’t work anymore. You’d better focus on your own life. There are actually many interesting things around you.”
Marina put on her outerwear and left her parents’ apartment.
“You’ll come running back!” Svetlana Vladimirovna shouted after her.
But Marina never came running back. And on her thirtieth birthday, she celebrated together with her beloved husband, Igor. He loved her for who she was, not for any particular skills. And no matter what her mother said about age, even at thirty, it was possible to find happiness.
Wishing everyone kindness!
