My mom and sister are moving in here tomorrow,” my husband announced, looking around my new home. In the evening, he found a new lock and suitcases out.

Daria stood in the middle of the spacious living room and couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her favorite warm sweaters lay on the freshly laid parquet floor, and Maksym, panting with exertion, was knocking things off the shelves and stuffing them into cheap, checkered bags. The sight was so absurd that for a moment she couldn’t utter a word.

“Maksym, what are you doing?” she finally asked. “Why are you moving my things?”

Her husband turned to her with the expression of someone who had just made a “sensible” decision.

“My mother and sister are moving in tomorrow. This part of the house is the best; it gets the most light from the south. Mom will be more comfortable because it’s harder for her to move around. Oksana and Zosia will take the room downstairs, and we’ll move up to the attic. The heating isn’t perfect there yet, but we’ll manage.”

Daria felt everything inside her freeze. She’d bought this house in a suburban village just two weeks earlier. For eight years, she’d saved money from almost every paycheck, picked up extra shifts at the pharmacy, and forgone small pleasures. Maksym changed jobs too often during that time to put down any roots. She, on the other hand, patiently built something of her own. Finally, she sold her grandfather’s plot of land and could finally afford a decent brick house.

She wanted this purchase to be the beginning of a new phase. Instead, her husband tried to turn her space into a family hotel.

“This is my house,” she said clearly, straightening her shoulders. “I bought it with my own money and my grandfather’s inheritance. I’m not going to sleep in the attic or have your family here without my permission.”

Maksym grimaced and waved his hand as if he were talking to someone ungrateful.

“Don’t exaggerate. We’re a family. Mom’s having trouble paying the rent; the landlord raised the rent. I already told them to pack. I’ll drive over tomorrow and bring everything back. The decision was made.

Then Daria looked at him differently than before. As if she’d suddenly seen a blur over the years. She remembered all the bills she’d paid for him, the purchases, his constant grudges, and the visits from his mother-in-law, who inspected every speck of dust on the shelves. Years of concessions had built only one thing: his belief that he could make decisions for her.

She bought the house herself, and she had every right to it.
Maksym had previously benefited from her support, but he never appreciated it.
Family “decisions” had been made without her consent.
When her husband left to “run errands in town,” Daria didn’t cry. Instead, she acted calmly and methodically. She called the repairman whose number she’d gotten from the washing machine installation and asked for an urgent lock replacement and a sturdy lock for the gate. She paid more than usual to have the work done immediately.