– Well, now it’s definitely ours! – Yana turned around in her chair and looked at her husband, who was lying on the couch, staring at his phone.
Vitaly looked up from the screen and smiled.
– Great! So, we’ll celebrate tonight? Maybe we’ll have a barbecue?
“We’ll do it,” Yana nodded, closing her laptop. “But let’s do it not today, but on the weekend. We’ll invite your parents, my mom, and we’ll celebrate for real.”
Vitaly sat on the sofa and stretched.
– Great idea! Mom will be pleased. By the way, she called yesterday and asked how we were doing.
Yana winced slightly. The relationship with her mother-in-law had been difficult from the very beginning. Tamara Petrovna never missed an opportunity to hint that her son could have found a “more suitable match.” Yana was too independent, too self-sufficient for Tamara Petrovna’s traditional views.
“Say hello,” Yana said politely. “And yes, we’ll be expecting everyone at four on Saturday.”
————————————————————–
The story with the house began three years ago. Yana worked as a financial analyst in a large company. The salary was decent, but the requirements were high. Sometimes she had to sit over reports until late at night, take work on weekends. Plus part-time jobs – consulting for small businesses, drawing up business plans, tax returns for individuals.
Vitaly worked in a car service, repaired cars, and sometimes worked as a private taxi driver. He earned less than his wife, but it was stable. They rented a one-room apartment on the outskirts, saving up a little for their own place to live. They expected that in five or six years they would save up for a down payment.
But then an unexpected opportunity arose. One of Yana’s clients, the owner of a construction company, offered to participate in a program for employees – a new house in the suburbs at a reduced price with a convenient installment plan. It was a small but cozy two-story cottage with four bedrooms, a garage and a plot of six hundred square meters. An ideal place to start a family.
Yana didn’t hesitate for a minute. She made the first payment from her savings, filled out the paperwork, and took out a loan. Everything on herself – it was easier from the bank’s point of view, given her stable income and excellent credit history.
– Zhenya, you can’t imagine! We’re buying a house, – Yana told her best friend on the phone. – Two-story, with a garden!
– Are you crazy? Where did you get the money? – Zhenya was surprised.
– I saved up a little, plus I took out a loan. I can handle it, – Yana answered confidently. – I calculated everything down to the last penny.
– And what about Vitalik? Is he also investing?
Yana hesitated before answering.
– No, for now it’s all on me. He’s a bit tight financially right now, he recently had his car repaired. But later, of course, he’ll participate.
In fact, there was no “later”. Yana continued to pay for the house, for the repairs, for the furniture, for the garden arrangement. Vitaly helped physically – he painted, planed, dug, planted. But financially, Yana bore the entire burden.
“Here, I put a little aside,” Vitaly would sometimes say, handing his wife a few thousand. “For curtains or whatever else is needed.”
Yana was grateful, but she understood that these “set aside” amounts were a drop in the ocean compared to her monthly payments. However, she did not complain. The house was her dream, her project, her achievement.
When they moved in, Vitaly was beaming with happiness.
“Our family nest!” he said proudly to his friends as he gave them a tour of the house. “Look at the kitchen! And what a bedroom!”
Yana smiled, listening to these conversations. “Our nest” sounded pleasant, although there were not many investments from Vitaly.
The first guests in the new house were Vitaly’s parents. Tamara Petrovna, a stately woman with perfectly styled hair, meticulously examined every corner, pursing her lips at the sight of imperfections.
“The wallpaper is unevenly pasted,” the mother-in-law noted, running her finger along the wall in the living room. “And the baseboard doesn’t fit tightly. Vitalik, you should keep an eye on it!”
“Mom, we haven’t finished the renovation yet,” Vitaly tried to explain.
– Of course, of course, – nodded Tamara Petrovna. – Still, well done. Now you live like people. Thanks to your family.
Yana remained silent, although she really wanted to ask what exactly her mother-in-law meant by “thanks to the family.” Yana’s own savings, her credit history, her regular payments—doesn’t all that count?
Relations with Tamara Petrovna remained strained from then on. The mother-in-law regularly called, inquired about how the renovation was going, whether Yana’s boss was giving her bonuses “so that you could finish the house.” And always, in every conversation, “your house,” “your family nest” was mentioned.
“Vitalik, I don’t understand why you still haven’t put up a fence on the north side,” Tamara Petrovna said during every visit. “Your house needs it.”
Yana tried not to pay attention. After all, her mother-in-law did not live with them, she came once a week for a couple of hours, then left. And the house was beautiful – with each month it became more and more comfortable, more and more like the image that Yana cherished in her dreams.
By the spring of the third year of living in the house, Yana had arranged a garden – with flower beds, paths, a gazebo for summer gatherings. Tamara Petrovna, having come to visit, could not hide her admiration.
– How beautiful! – exclaimed the mother-in-law, looking at the blooming tulips. – A real piece of paradise! You have a big house, there will be enough room for everyone in the summer!
Yana became wary. What did “everyone” mean? But she didn’t ask, deciding that she had misheard or misunderstood.
A week later the hint was repeated.
“Vitalik said you have four bedrooms,” Tamara Petrovna said at a family dinner. “One is yours, the second is an office, the third is a guest room. And the fourth is empty?”
“For now, yes,” Yana answered cautiously. “We’re thinking of making a nursery there when we gather our strength.”
“Until then, the room will remain empty,” nodded the mother-in-law. “It’s so nice here in the summer. The air is clean, the garden is beautiful…”
Yana remained silent again. She didn’t want to ruin her day off with arguments. But tension was growing inside. All these hints, all this talk about “extra rooms” – what was the point?
“Don’t pay attention,” Vitaly said when his parents left. “Mom just likes to talk. No one is forcing us to invite anyone.”
Yana calmed down. Indeed, it was up to the hosts to decide whether to invite or not, not the guests. And she, Yana, was the mistress of the house. With all the rights that entailed.
In early May, Yana returned home earlier than usual. Seasonal allergies had taken their toll, and her boss sent her home with instructions to get some sleep and get in shape for the next day’s report.
Yana was going to take her medicine and lie down, but as she passed the slightly open door of the office, she heard Vitaly’s voice. He was talking on the phone.
– Yes, Mom, I remember, – Vitaly said. – I’ll come for you on Saturday and bring all your things. There’ll be enough room for everyone until autumn, don’t worry.
Yana froze at the door. What is he talking about? What things? Why until autumn?
“Yana knows everything, we discussed it,” Vitaly continued. “You’ll be on the second floor, in the far bedroom. It’s quiet there, the sun doesn’t shine through the windows.”
Yana felt a lump rise in her throat. She didn’t know anything. They hadn’t discussed anything. What was going on?
When Vitaly finished the conversation, Yana entered the office.
“What was that?” she asked, trying to speak calmly.
– What are you talking about? – Vitaly was surprised.
– About the conversation with your mother. What things are we talking about? Why did you say that we discussed everything?
Vitaly looked at his wife in confusion.
– Oh, you mean this… Mom has long dreamed of spending the summer outside the city. She has problems with blood pressure, it’s hard in a city apartment. I offered to stay with us until autumn. We have a spare room.
– And when were you going to tell me about this? – Yana felt anger boiling inside.
“I thought you wouldn’t mind,” Vitaly shrugged. “It’s a shared house. There’s enough room for everyone.”
— Common? — Yana raised her voice. — I took out the loan. I made the payments. I paid for the repairs. What part of the house is yours?
– Wait, wait, – Vitaly raised his hands. – Are you serious? We are a family. What is mine is yours, what is yours is mine. Isn’t that right?
– Do you think so? – Yana took a deep breath, trying to calm down. – Then why didn’t you ask me before inviting your mother for the whole summer?
– What’s there to ask? – Vitaly was genuinely surprised. – Is it that hard for you? The room is empty anyway. Mom will help with the garden, with the cooking. She needs some fresh air, we need help.
Yana looked at her husband and did not recognize him. Does he really not understand what the problem is? Doesn’t he see that he violated the boundaries, made an important decision unilaterally?
“Vitaly, it’s not about whether it’s difficult for me or not,” Yana said slowly. “It’s about respect. You should have discussed this with me first, and then invited Mom.”
“Oh, come on, what ceremony?” Vitaly waved his hand. “Mom is not a stranger.”
“For me, he’s almost a stranger,” Yana objected. “And if she moves, I’ll have to communicate with a person I barely know every day when I come home from work.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Vitaly frowned. “Mom is a good, kind woman. You just didn’t get to know her properly.”
— And I won’t know if she moves into my house without an invitation!
“In our house,” Vitaly corrected. “Not just in yours.”
Yana flared up:
“The house is mine, and the money is mine!” Yana exclaimed. “Don’t let your mother expect a freebie!”
Silence fell over the room. Vitaly looked at his wife as if he was seeing her for the first time. Yana breathed heavily, feeling not just anger but real fury boiling inside. Not because of the fact that her mother-in-law had arrived – after all, you can invite anyone you want to visit for a couple of days. But because her opinion was simply crossed out, they didn’t think it necessary to ask.
“Are you serious right now?” Vitaly asked quietly. “Freebie? My mother is a pensioner who has a hard time in the city in the summer.
“It’s not about your mother,” Yana walked up to the table, opened a drawer and took out a folder with documents. “It’s about what you did. Look here. The purchase and sale agreement, the title deed, the loan agreement – all in my name. All payments went through my account. This is my house, Vitaly. In a legal sense, it’s only mine.”
Vitaly chuckled nervously:
– What difference does it make whose name is on the papers? We are a family. Husband and wife are one Satan, aren’t they? Everyone should help each other.
“To help, yes,” Yana nodded. “But that doesn’t mean you can dispose of my property without asking.”
– Your property? – Vitaly stood up, clenching his fists. – So everything we have is only yours? And what about my work around the house? I put up the fence, fixed the roof, planted trees!
“And I appreciate your input,” Yana tried to speak calmly. “But that doesn’t give you the right to invite someone to live here without consulting me.”
– Not “someone”, but my mother! – Vitaly raised his voice. – The woman who raised me, who always supported us!
“I don’t mind her coming to visit,” Yana explained. “But living here for several months is something completely different.”
– What don’t you like? The room is empty, mom will help with the housework, cook. It will be easier for you!
Yana shook her head:
– Vitaly, do you really not understand? I come home from work and want to be in my own home. Without the need to make small talk, without other people’s looks, without the need to report on my plans. I worked myself to the bone for three years, paid off a loan, so that I could have exactly this – my own personal space.
“Selfish,” Vitaly said. “You just don’t like my family. You’ve always been cold with my mother.”
“That’s not true,” Yana objected. “I’ve always been polite. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to live under the same roof with her.”
– So you don’t care about my wishes? My feelings? My family?
Yana took a deep breath. That’s the thing. For Vitaly, there is “his family” – his mother, his father, his sister. And Yana? Isn’t she his family? Hasn’t she been there for the last five years?
– Vitaly, understand, – Yana began. – I’m not against your mother as such. I’m against how it was decided. If you had come, asked, discussed – everything could have been different.
– What’s there to discuss? – Vitaly threw up his hands. – Mom calls and says she’s not feeling well in the city. Was I supposed to say, “Sorry, Mom, I’ll go ask Yana if you can come over”?
“That’s exactly what you should have done,” Yana said firmly. “Because the house is mine.”
– There you go again! My house, my money… You are a callous, heartless woman!
Yana was silent, looking out the window. She knew: if she gave in now, this house would cease to be her fortress forever. Today Tamara Petrovna would move in, tomorrow – another one of Vitaly’s relatives. And one day Yana would simply be asked: “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I won’t give in,” Yana finally said. “Your mother won’t live here. Period.”
– But I already promised! – Vitaly almost shouted. – What will I tell her? What did my wife forbid?
– That’s exactly what you’ll say. That your wife doesn’t agree. That you didn’t discuss this issue beforehand. That you’re to blame, not her.
Vitaly shook his head:
– I won’t do it. Mom will come on Saturday, I’ve already decided everything.
Yana looked at her husband for a long time, then nodded:
– Okay. I understand you.
After this conversation, Yana did not make a scene. She simply went upstairs, went into the bedroom and closed the door. Her heart was pounding, her thoughts were confused, but Yana knew one thing for sure – she could not retreat.
The next morning, when Vitaly left for work, Yana called the company that installs locks and security systems. The technician arrived an hour later, listened carefully to the order and got to work.
“Change all the locks?” asked the master, a gray-haired man with an attentive gaze. “And the gates too?”
“Yes, that’s it,” Yana nodded. “And please install a video intercom. So I can see who comes when I’m not home.”
By lunchtime the work was finished. New locks were shining on all the doors, and a modern panel with a camera appeared at the main entrance. Yana paid the repairman, received three sets of keys and an instruction manual.
Yana put one set in her bag, the second in the safe in the bedroom. The third she left on the coffee table in the living room. For Vitaly.
In the evening, hearing the front door open, Yana went out into the hallway. Vitaly, clearly surprised that his key did not work and he had to ring the bell, looked at the new intercom panel.
“What is this?” Vitaly asked, pointing at the device.
“Video intercom,” Yana answered calmly. “And new locks. Here’s your set of keys.”
Vitaly took the keys and frowned:
– Why? The previous locks were fine.
“It’s a precaution,” Yana said. “Protecting the borders. Mine and my home.”
– There you go again, – Vitaly sighed tiredly. – Let’s not quarrel. I’ve been thinking about our conversation all day and I realized that I rushed it. I should have discussed it with you first. Sorry.
Yana nodded:
– I accept the apology. And I’m glad you understood everything.
“So maybe we should remove these locks?” Vitaly asked hopefully. “I feel awkward ringing my own doorbell every time.”
“No,” Yana shook her head. “The locks will remain. And I have something to talk about.”
They went into the kitchen. Yana put the kettle on and got out some cookies – the same ones Vitaly had loved since childhood. She sat down opposite her husband.
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Yana began. “About us, about the house, about the future. And I realized that we’ve reached the point of choice.
“What choice?” Vitaly became wary.
“You need to decide what you want,” Yana said calmly, without reproach. “If you want to live with me in this house, you will live on my terms. First: no one moves in with us without my consent. Second: we make all serious decisions together. Third: you respect my right to personal space.
“What if I don’t agree?” Vitaly asked quietly.
“Then you are free to go where your mother decides for you,” Yana answered. “Where you will be more comfortable.”
Vitaly was silent for a long time, twirling a cup of tea in his hands.
“You’re giving me a choice,” he finally said. “Either Mom or you.”
“No,” Yana shook her head. “I’m giving you a choice: either you live like an adult who respects the boundaries of others, or like a child who waits for his mother to decide for him.”
That evening they did not speak again. Vitaly went to sleep in the guest room, and Yana sat in the kitchen for a long time, looking out the dark window. There was no anger, no resentment – only a calm confidence in her own rightness.
In the morning, getting ready for work, Yana found a note on the kitchen table: “I need time to think. I’ll stay with my mom for now.” And the keys – the same ones she gave Vitaly yesterday.
Returning home in the evening, Yana went around all the rooms. Some of Vitaly’s things were missing from the closet, his favorite razor was missing from the bathroom, his laptop was missing from the office. He really was gone.
A strange feeling came over Yana. On the one hand, sadness that a loved one did not choose her. On the other, relief. No more need to justify, explain, prove your right to your own home and your own life.
Yana turned on the music – the same one that Vitaly considered “too pompous”. She poured a glass of wine and settled into a chair by the window. Maple leaves rustled outside, the flowers she had planted were fragrant in the garden, and the house was quiet and calm.
The phone rang several times. Once – Zhenya, worried about how things were. The second time – a colleague from work, wanted to clarify the details of the project. The third time – Tamara Petrovna. Yana did not accept this call.
On Saturday, the very day her mother-in-law was supposed to move in, Yana got up early. She took her time preparing breakfast, drank coffee on the veranda, then took her gardening tools and went to trim the roses. Gardening was always calming.
Around midday a familiar car pulled up to the gate. Vitaly. With him was Tamara Petrovna, loaded with bags.
Yana was in no hurry to open the door. First she looked through the video intercom to see who had arrived, although she had already seen the car. Then she calmly wiped her hands, took off her gardening gloves, and only then approached the gate.
“Hello,” Vitaly said. He looked confused. “We’ve arrived.”
“I see,” Yana nodded. “Why?”
– What do you mean, why? – Tamara Petrovna intervened. – We agreed! Vitalik said that I would live with you until autumn.
“Vitalik said,” Yana repeated, looking at her husband. “And what did I say, Vitaly?”
Vitaly looked away:
– Yana, let’s not make a scene. Mom has arrived, she has her things. Open the gate.
“No,” Yana answered calmly. “Tamara Petrovna, forgive me, but you will not live in my house. Not until autumn, not even until tomorrow.”
– How dare you! – the mother-in-law threw up her hands. – This is my son’s house!
“This is my home,” Yana said firmly. “And only mine. All the documents confirm this.”
– Vitalik! – Tamara Petrovna turned to her son. – Tell that… your wife to open the gate!
Vitaly was silent, looking at the ground.
“Okay,” Yana said, turning to her husband. “You have a choice, like I said. You can stay here with me, on my terms. Or go with Mom. Decide.”
Tamara Petrovna said something indignantly, but Yana did not listen. She looked only at her husband. He was still studying the ground under his feet.
“I’m sorry, Yana,” Vitaly finally said. “I can’t leave my mother. It’s really hard for her in the city in the summer.”
“I understand,” Yana nodded. “Then I won’t hold you back.”
“My things…” Vitaly began.
“I’ll collect it and give it to you when it’s convenient,” Yana answered. “Just call in advance.”
They left – a confused Vitaly and an indignant Tamara Petrovna. And Yana returned to her roses. There was emptiness inside – but not the kind that comes from loss, but the kind that arises when you throw off a heavy load. Lightness and freedom.
In the evening, sitting on the veranda with a cup of tea, Yana thought about how strange life is. You can live with a person for years and not know what is really important to him. You can put your whole soul into a house and then find out that not everyone considers it yours.
But the main thing is that Yana realized that she would never allow anyone to cross her boundaries again. She would not give up her home, her freedom, her right to decide for herself. Even if it meant being alone.
There were no strangers’ slippers in the hallway. No unsolicited advice was heard in the kitchen. No one turned the TV on full blast in the living room. The house belonged only to Yana, its rightful owner. And that was right.
