— This is my apartment. And I’m not going to…— Yours? — her mother-in-law interrupted. — What about the family? Sasha, are you hearing what your wife is saying?

Katya slowly, almost reluctantly, opened the door to her apartment. It was nearly nine in the evening. She had stayed late at work, never finishing that important project which had consumed her entire day. As always, the kitchen filled with noise—the loud voice of her mother-in-law echoing through half the apartment.

“— Late again! — Lyudmila exclaimed as the door opened. — Sasha is hungry, he’s waiting!”

Katya sighed deeply as she removed her coat. She couldn’t understand what was happening any longer. A month and a half ago, when Sasha asked if his parents could stay while their apartment was being renovated, it had seemed like a simple matter — two or three weeks at most. Time had flown by, yet they still hadn’t left. It seemed that in another month or two, this whole situation would turn into an endless nightmare.

“— Good evening, everyone,” Katya said as she stepped into the kitchen.

At the table, Sasha and Nikolai were seated, their eyes glued to the television. Lyudmila was clanging pots at the stove, as if dinner had never existed.

“— I told you to be here no later than seven,” Lyudmila continued, looking at Katya. “We have a routine; we’re used to having dinner on time.”

Katya merely shrugged and, without changing, went over to the refrigerator.

“— I have work,” she replied calmly. “An important project. I had to finish it.”

“Work, work…” Lyudmila mimicked with a snort. “And what about your husband? Sasha, say something to her!”

Sasha squirmed in his chair, shrugging his shoulders. There was an awkwardness in his voice, as if he himself didn’t know what he wanted. His answer came with a delay:

“— Katyush, maybe you really should come home earlier?”

Katya pressed her lips together. This had never happened before. Sasha had never reproached her for being late. But now… with his parents around, he had become someone else. Or was it just her perception?

“— Yes, yes,” Nikolai, supporting his son, said, not taking his eyes off the television. “A woman should think about the family. In our day…”

For a moment, Katya stopped, feeling her chest tighten. Things had been different before. And now… she couldn’t understand what was happening.

“— I’ll prepare dinner now,” she said as she pulled out bags of groceries.

“— Don’t trouble yourself,” Lyudmila snorted without looking away from the pots. “I’ve already done everything. And I rearranged your dishes—they were all wrong.”

Katya froze, not believing her ears.

“— What do you mean, rearranged? This is my kitchen, Lyudmila…” her voice trembled slightly with hurt.

“— Exactly, your kitchen,” her mother-in-law cut in. “But things need to be organized smartly. I’m an experienced housekeeper!”

Katya felt her body heat up. She glanced at the table—Sasha, who had once been so close and understanding, now sat avoiding her gaze. And the person sitting next to him clearly had no sense of boundaries.

“— And besides,” Lyudmila continued, now commenting on the wallpaper on the walls, “this place clearly needs a renovation. It all looks rather outdated.”

“— Lyudmila…” Katya tried to speak as calmly as possible, though it was difficult. “We agreed that you’d stay while your place was being renovated. But the renovation hasn’t even started. Maybe it’s time to think…?”

“Oh, the renovation turned out to be a mess,” Lyudmila sighed, spreading her hands. “The craftsmen let us down, the materials were all wrong. We’ll have to stay with you a bit longer.”

“How long?” Katya asked in a controlled tone.

“Well, two to three months, no more,” Lyudmila replied casually, as if it were a trivial matter. “What’s the big deal? We’re not in your way!”

Katya felt her hands begin to tremble. Two to three months? Will it go on for another two to three months? It was like an unending nightmare.

“— Sasha,” Lyudmila suddenly cooed sweetly, smiling in her own unique way. “Maybe we shouldn’t rush with the renovation at all? Let’s sell our apartment and live all together here. There’s plenty of space!”

Katya felt her breath taken away. This was her apartment. Her property. And now her mother-in-law was suggesting… what?

“— Great idea, Mom!” Sasha perked up. “Right, Katya? You never finish anything; this would help us!”

Nikolai nodded, supporting his son.

“— Exactly! The young need the support of the elders. We’ll help out when the grandchildren come.”

Katya sank into a chair, her mind overwhelmed with unbearable thoughts. When had her life turned into this absurdity? When had she ceased being the master of her own destiny?

“— No,” Katya said firmly as she stood up.

“What?” Lyudmila turned sharply, unable to believe her ears.

“— I said — no,” Katya repeated, desperately trying to keep her composure. “This is my apartment. And I’m not going to…”

“— Yours?” her mother-in-law interrupted. “What about the family? Sasha, do you hear what your wife is saying?”

Sasha frowned, his face growing more tense.

“— Katya, what are you starting? Your mother is talking sense. Living together is easier…”

“— Easier?” Katya stood up, her voice growing hard. “Easier as in living under constant control? Tolerating strangers commanding in my own home?”

“What do you mean, strangers?” Lyudmila retorted indignantly, her voice nearly hostile. “We’re your husband’s parents!”

“And so what?” Katya raised her voice, unable to hold back any longer. “Does that give you the right to take over my property?”

Sasha jumped up, his face reddening, eyes widening:

“— Stop yelling at your mother!” he nearly shrieked, like a child who had been smacked. “What’s gotten into you? You used to be so understanding…”

Katya clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her skin, trying not to unleash all the anger that had been building over the past month and a half:

“— Understanding? Yes, I was. Until you started turning my home into a barracks!”

“How dare you say that!” Lyudmila exploded, flinging her hands as if someone had spat in her face. “Sasha, do you hear what she’s saying?”

Sasha glanced helplessly between his mother and his wife, as if for the first time seeing people who could not simply live in peace.

“— Katya, let’s calmly discuss this…”

“No, Sasha,” Katya said, straightening up and holding back tears. “Enough. I’ve been silent for a month and a half. I’ve tolerated my kitchen being overhauled, my belongings being rearranged, people commanding in my own home, in my life!”

“We only wanted to help,” Nikolai intervened, trying to justify himself, though his voice still sounded like a quiet surrender. “To set things in order…”

“Order?” Katya abruptly turned toward her father-in-law as if he’d said something utterly inappropriate. “Who asked for your help? This is my home, my rules!”

“— How rude,” Lyudmila pursed her lips, her face paling with anger. “Sasha, will you allow her to speak to us like that?”

Katya felt all her strength draining away, a void filling her inside. How much longer could she endure this? How long would this farce continue?

“— Out,” Katya said quietly, but clearly enough for everyone to hear.

“What?” Lyudmila stood frozen with her spoon raised, unable to believe her ears.

“— I said — out of my apartment,” Katya repeated louder, her voice becoming as firm as concrete. “Right now. Pack your things and leave.”

A deafening silence fell over the kitchen. Lyudmila turned pale, Nikolai blinked in confusion, and Sasha sat dumbfounded, as if he could not believe what was happening.

“You can’t…” Lyudmila began, not believing such a thing was possible.

“I can,” Katya cut her off, meeting her gaze. “This is my apartment. My property. And I will no longer allow anyone to dictate here.”

Katya resolutely walked into the living room where her in-laws slept and began packing up their belongings. She felt as if every minute dragged on like an eternity, yet she couldn’t stop.

“— Katya, stop!” Sasha grabbed her hand like a small child who didn’t understand what was happening. “You can’t do this to my parents!”

“I can,” Katya freed her hand, gritting her teeth as she held back the storm inside her. “And if you disagree, you can leave with them.”

“What?” Sasha recoiled. “You’re kicking me out?”

“No,” Katya shook her head. “I’m giving you a choice. Either you stay with me and respect my rules, or you go live with your parents.”

“Ungrateful!” Lyudmila shrieked, biting her lips in hurt. “We’ve given you our hearts, and you…”

“Everything’s packed,” Katya interjected. “You have five minutes to leave the apartment.”

“Or what?” Lyudmila squinted, her lips curling in a mocking smile.

“Or I’ll call the police,” Katya answered calmly, her eyes unflinching. “Believe me, I have enough resolve to file a complaint about unlawful occupancy.”

“Sasha!” Lyudmila shrieked, grabbing his hand. “Do something!”

But Sasha stood like a pillar, looking around helplessly between his wife and his parents. Panic flickered in his eyes. He’d never faced a choice like this before.

“— Time’s up,” Katya said, glancing at the clock, her voice no longer as weary as before.

Lyudmila opened her mouth to reply, but Nikolai suddenly took her hand, his voice soft yet firm:

“— Let’s go, Lyuda. We’re not welcome here.”

“How can we not be welcome?” Lyudmila protested, her face contorted. “One does not treat family like this! Sasha, say something!”

Sasha shifted from foot to foot, seemingly unsure where to turn. His eyes avoided meeting his wife’s, and that unsettled him, but he could do nothing else.

“— Katya, maybe we shouldn’t be so hasty? Let’s talk this over…” his voice trembled like a plucked string.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Katya replied, her tone resonating with such firmness that it seemed the very walls of the apartment rose in defense. “I’ve made my decision.”

Lyudmila and Nikolai, like two old, dimmed mirrors, silently gathered their things and headed for the door. As Lyudmila paused, still hoping for a miracle, she turned back, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Sasha, you won’t leave us, will you?”

Sasha stood there, frozen, helplessly spreading his hands:

“— Mom, I…I’ll try to talk to Katya. Maybe she’ll calm down…”

After the door closed behind his parents, the air in the apartment grew as heavy as the rain that seemed ready to pour. Sasha turned to his wife, and in his eyes there were so many questions that Katya nearly broke down in pain but held back.

“Listen, I never meant for things to go this far. Your parents really got into a difficult situation… that renovation…”

“What renovation, Sasha?” Katya looked at him wearily. “They never even started. Your parents simply decided to take over my home like a fortress, and you let it happen!”

“Don’t say that!” Sasha burst out, as if struck by a sharp blow. “They didn’t mean any harm! They just thought living together would be better.”

“Better for whom?” Katya sank onto the couch. As if all her strength had been drained. “For you? For yourself? Has anyone ever thought about me?”

Sasha sat beside her, reaching for her hand in a desperate bid for solace. But Katya was too far gone.

“Katyush, let’s fix this. I’ll talk to my parents…”

“No, Sasha,” her voice was almost a whisper yet so resolute that it seemed to freeze his blood in its tracks. “It’s too late to fix anything. I’m filing for divorce.”

“What?!” Sasha sprang up, his eyes widening as if the ground beneath him were crumbling. “Over something so trivial?”

“Trivial?” Katya bitterly smiled with a sickly cold tone. “You call it trivial that you let your parents command my home? That you never once stood up for me? You knew they planned to settle in here for good and you stayed silent. This isn’t a mistake, Sasha. It’s betrayal.”

The next morning, Katya went to court. Her hands didn’t tremble because her decision was as solid as a rock. And when she returned home, there was neither fear nor regret—only emptiness and lightness, as if a heavy blanket had been lifted from her.

Sasha wavered between her and his parents. He would come, stand at the door with flowers, as if clinging to an old habit—a futile attempt to pretend that everything could still be salvaged.

“— I’ve realized everything, Katya. Let’s try again?”

But Katya was as unyielding as a winter wind.

“No, Sasha. You chose your path, and I chose mine.”

After the divorce, life seemed to exhale. Katya began going to the swimming pool, changed her image, and even started raising a glass with friends—friends with whom she could finally drink without the ever-watchful eye of her mother-in-law. It was everything she had dreamed of but never dared to do.

One evening, while sitting in her favorite chair with a book, Katya realized she couldn’t remember the last time she felt truly alive.

“Freedom,” she whispered, looking around her cozy home. “That’s what really matters.”

The phone rang, its vibration pulling her out of her reverie. Lyudmila, of course, was trying to call.

Katya glanced at the screen but didn’t answer. She deleted the number. Her hand didn’t tremble. This was no longer her story, no longer her pain.

A new life lay ahead. A life where no one could invade her personal space, where she alone would decide who to be with and whom to trust. And that was what mattered most.