Marina flinched at the sound of the doorbell. It was so persistent that it seemed as though someone had decided to find out how many times they had to press it before the button collapsed into the wall.
Who on earth could be showing up at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning?
She had only just finished mixing the batter for pancakes. The children were still lying in bed, and her husband was in the shower. Their plans had been simple: have breakfast together as a family, then go to Sokolniki Park to see the new rides.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Marina called, wiping her hands on her apron. “Who is it at this hour?”
She opened the door and froze.
Her mother-in-law, Nina Petrovna, stood on the doorstep. Beside her were two unfamiliar women carrying suitcases. One was older, with dyed red hair and bright pink lipstick. The other was younger and wore an expression suggesting that the entire world owed her something and was in no hurry to pay.
“Good morning, darling!” Nina Petrovna chirped as she pushed her way into the hallway. “Meet my cousin Valentina from Voronezh and her daughter, Sveta. They’ve come to Moscow for a week, and I thought, where else could they stay if not in our luxurious apartment?”
Marina felt something inside her tighten into a hard knot.
Not again.
Lately, visits like this had become a regular occurrence. Ever since Marina and Sergey had moved into their new four-room apartment in the Zelenograd district, Nina Petrovna had seemed to lose all restraint. She constantly brought relatives, acquaintances, and even neighbors over so she could show off “how well my little boy is doing.”
“Come in, come in!” Nina Petrovna said, unceremoniously squeezing past her daughter-in-law. “I’ll show you everything. Ninety square meters, four rooms, two bathrooms—and just look at this kitchen and living room! We have almost-Italian tiles here, German appliances over there, and even a dishwasher!”
Marina looked helplessly at her husband, Sergey, who had come into the hallway after hearing the commotion. He was wearing sweatpants and had a towel draped over his shoulders.
“Mom, you could have warned us,” he began, but Nina Petrovna was already conducting a tour of the apartment.
“And this is the children’s room! My three grandchildren are a real treasure! And over here is the bedroom. Look at that chandelier! I chose it myself. I’ve always had excellent taste!”
Marina clenched her teeth so tightly that her jaw began to ache.
She remembered perfectly well how she and Sergey had argued over that chandelier. In the end, they had chosen one completely different from the design his mother had suggested. But there was no point trying to convince Nina Petrovna otherwise.
“Oh, what room is this?” Valentina asked, peering into Sergey’s study.
“This is my son’s office, but you can stay here!” Nina Petrovna announced cheerfully. “The sofa folds out. It’s just right for two people!”
Sergey opened his mouth to object, but then waved his hand dismissively and went to get dressed. Marina was left alone with the unexpected guests.
“I’m making pancakes,” she said, trying to remain polite. “You must be hungry after your journey.”
“Oh, Marinka, you’re such a wonderful homemaker!” Nina Petrovna exclaimed. “I always say that my Seryozha married well! Though, of course, she doesn’t cook as well as you do, Valya.”
Valentina smiled condescendingly.
“Never mind. Later, I’ll show her how real pancakes should be made.”
Marina silently counted to ten.
For the sake of peace in the family.
As always.
That evening, after the guests had settled into what had once been Sergey’s study—his desk had been pushed into the corner, and his computer had temporarily been moved into the bedroom—Marina could no longer contain herself.
“This has gone beyond all limits! She brings people here without warning, treats our apartment as though it belongs to her, and constantly tells everyone how she ‘helped us get this home’!”
“You know what my mother is like,” Sergey sighed, settling more comfortably on the bed with his laptop. “She spent her entire life in that old two-room apartment. She was always embarrassed to invite anyone over. Now she finally has something to show off.”
“But this is our apartment!” Marina exclaimed. “I gave birth to three children so that we could qualify for a place this size. Without me, you and your mother would only have received another two-room apartment!”
Sergey remained silent.
He knew his wife was right, but he did not want to argue. After all, his mother was his mother. Besides, these guests would leave in a week.
But one week later, the situation repeated itself.
This time, Nina Petrovna brought her friend Zinaida Vasilyevna and the woman’s teenage grandson.
“Just look at how well my dear Seryozhenka is doing!” she said admiringly as she led them around the apartment. “They renovated everything and even hired a designer. German appliances! I always knew my son would become successful!”
When Marina heard this, she could not take it anymore.
“Nina Petrovna, that’s enough. This isn’t your apartment. You can’t keep bringing people here for tours.”
“What’s wrong with that?” her mother-in-law asked, genuinely surprised. “This is partly my achievement too! If I hadn’t registered you at our old house, you would never have received a four-room apartment!”
“We had three children so that we would qualify for a home this size!” Marina snapped.
Nina Petrovna’s friend shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable.
“Don’t pay any attention to her, Zinochka,” the mother-in-law said with a dismissive wave. “Young people are always so ambitious. But where would they be living now if it weren’t for me? In some rented one-room apartment outside Moscow!”
Marina turned sharply and walked into the kitchen. There, she called her best friend, Olga.
“Olya, I’m about to explode! She’s brought more people here without warning!”
“You’re kidding!” Olga replied, genuine outrage in her voice. “And what is Sergey doing?”
“What does Sergey ever do? He’s sitting in the room working, pretending nothing is happening.”
“Maybe you should simply talk to her. Explain that she can’t behave like this.”
“I’ve tried! She doesn’t understand! She says we got this apartment thanks to her, so now she has the right to bring over anyone she wants!”
“Well, technically, she does have a point,” Olga said cautiously. “You wouldn’t have received it if she hadn’t registered all of you in that old barracks.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t give her the right to control our lives!” Marina lowered her voice when she heard footsteps in the hallway. “All right, we’ll talk later. Come to my birthday party on Saturday. I’m making my signature Napoleon cake.”
Marina’s birthday turned out to be the final straw.
She invited her friends and set the table. Then, as usual without any warning, Nina Petrovna arrived with several unfamiliar people.
“Here we are! We decided to come and congratulate our dear Marinka!” she announced from the doorway. “Meet my niece Angela and her husband, Viktor. They came especially to see our luxurious apartment!”
Marina froze, gripping a cake knife in her hand.
However, her best friend Olga, who had witnessed scenes like this more than once, could no longer remain silent.
“Nina Petrovna, do you realize that the government gave this apartment to your son and Marina when your old building was demolished? And that the size of the new apartment depended on the number of registered residents? Without Marina and the children, Sergey would have received no more than a one-room apartment, just like you.”
Silence fell over the room.
Nina Petrovna’s niece coughed awkwardly.
“So they didn’t actually earn enough money to buy an apartment like this themselves?”
“Of course not,” Olga scoffed. “They would never have been able to afford an apartment like this in Moscow. It was compensation from the city for the demolished building.”
Nina Petrovna’s face turned red.
“So what? They still got it because of me! If I hadn’t registered Marina and the children in our old house—”
“Which was going to be demolished anyway,” Olga finished for her. “You received the thirty-three square meters you were legally entitled to. Sergey and his family received their ninety square meters. By law. Not because of anyone’s generosity.”
The guests exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Marina looked at her friend gratefully.
“Olga, you’re getting something wrong,” Sergey intervened. Until then, he had been silently watching the scene. “Mom really did help us. If it hadn’t been for her—”
“If it hadn’t been for her, you would have lived somewhere else,” Olga cut him off. “But the fact remains that you received this apartment because the law entitled you to it, not because your mother decided to give it to you. And she has no right to treat your home as her own.”
Nina Petrovna pursed her lips.
“It seems I’ve come at a bad time. Come on, everyone,” she said to her niece and her husband. “We’re clearly not welcome here.”
“Nina Petrovna, that isn’t what I meant,” Olga said, trying to soften the situation. “There simply have to be certain boundaries.”
But Marina’s mother-in-law was already heading demonstratively toward the door.
Sergey gave Marina a reproachful look and followed his mother.
“Mom, wait.”
When the door closed behind them, Marina dropped the knife onto the table and collapsed into a chair.
“Well, that’s it. Now Sergey will be angry with me.”
“Oh, come on,” Olga said, sitting beside her and putting an arm around her shoulders. “This had to happen sooner or later. You can’t keep living like this.”
“You don’t understand,” Marina sighed. “To Sergey, his mother is sacred. He’ll never openly take my side against her.”
“Then you’ll have to learn to defend your home yourself,” Olga said firmly. “Otherwise, you’ll spend your entire life tolerating these visits.”
That evening, after the guests had left and the children had gone to bed, Sergey finally returned home.
He was unusually quiet and thoughtful.
“So, was your mother very offended?” Marina asked, preparing herself for yet another argument.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Sergey said, sinking wearily into an armchair. “All the way to the metro, she talked about how ungrateful you were and how much she had done for us.”
“And what did you say?”
“What could I say? I listened.”
He paused.
“You know, I suddenly realized that she really has gone too far. This apartment is our home. We decide whom to invite and when.”
Marina stared at her husband in surprise.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Sergey said with a nod. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll explain that this can’t continue.”
“She won’t understand.”
“She’ll have to. After all, I’m her son—not the other way around.”
The following day, Sergey went to see his mother.
He came home late, looking exhausted.
“Well?” Marina asked anxiously.
“It was difficult,” Sergey sighed. “First there were tears and accusations. Then she admitted that she simply wanted to show off in front of the relatives.”
“And what did you agree on?”
“I explained that we appreciate her helping us with the registration, but this apartment is our home, and we decide whom to invite. Of course, she was offended. She said she would never visit us again, but she only said that in the heat of the moment. She’ll calm down.”
A month passed.
Nina Petrovna neither called nor visited.
Marina was beginning to worry that something might have happened to her. But eventually, her mother-in-law called.
To Marina’s surprise, she politely asked whether Uncle Tolya and his family from Perm could stay for one or two nights after returning from a trip to Turkey.
“And at the same time, I can show them how my son lives,” she added in her usual tone, before quickly catching herself. “As long as you don’t mind, of course.”
Recognizing this small step forward, Marina agreed.
After all, her mother-in-law also had the right to be proud that her son was living well, even if it was thanks to the resettlement program rather than his personal achievements.
When Uncle Tolya arrived with his wife and teenage son, Nina Petrovna was unusually restrained.
She still gave them a tour of the apartment, but without her former arrogance.
“And this is the kitchen,” she said. “Marina arranged everything here herself. She has excellent taste.”
Marina raised her eyebrows in surprise but said nothing.
Perhaps something really had changed.
That evening, after the guests had settled into the guest room—formerly Sergey’s study, which had now officially become a guest room—Nina Petrovna remained in the kitchen to help Marina wash the dishes.
“You know,” she said unexpectedly, “I used to think I had the right to bring people here. I believed that without me, you would never have received this apartment.”
“Nina Petrovna—”
“Let me finish,” her mother-in-law said, raising one hand. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I realized something. Yes, I helped with the registration, but you received the apartment because you were legally entitled to it. This is your home, not mine.”
Marina froze with a plate in her hands.
“I simply had nothing to be proud of for most of my life,” Nina Petrovna continued. “My husband died young. I lived in that old barracks and worked at the factory. Then suddenly there was this beautiful apartment and my grandchildren. I wanted everyone to see that my life had turned out well too.”
“I understand,” Marina said with a nod. “You can always come and visit. It’s just that—”
“You need me to warn you in advance,” Nina Petrovna finished. “I understand now.”
They fell silent and continued washing the dishes.
“You know,” Nina Petrovna suddenly said with a sly smile, “I didn’t do badly out of the whole arrangement either. They gave me a renovated one-room apartment in a new building. Thirty-three square meters all to myself! Compared with the tiny room I used to live in, it’s practically a palace. So you could say we all benefited from the resettlement.”
Marina smiled.
Perhaps things were not so bad after all.
Perhaps they would finally learn to respect each other.
But one week later, Nina Petrovna called again and asked whether she could bring her friend Klavdia over “just for an hour, to show her the apartment. Her building is being demolished too, and she wants to know what she can expect.”
That was when Marina realized that they were still a long way from complete mutual understanding.
But the first step had been taken.
And that was already something.
