— I don’t have time, and you’re just sitting at home on the weekend.
Kira brought them. One day, Zhanna Borisovna demanded she pay for a taxi to the clinic because “my back hurts, I can’t be jostled on the bus.”
— Mom, you have a car, — said Artem.
— It’s at the mechanic’s, — the mother-in-law snapped.
The car was parked in the yard. By mid-December, Kira realized she couldn’t take it anymore. She started looking for options. She rented a room on the far outskirts for twelve thousand a month. She decided to move out alone, let Artem stay with his mother if it was so convenient for him. But when she hinted at this to him, he suddenly got scared.
— Kira, are you serious? We’re a family.
— What kind of family, Artem? You don’t even stand up for me.
— I try, but she’s my mother, I can’t kick her out.
— But you can kick me out?
He remained silent. And in that silence, Kira understood the main thing: he would choose his mother. Always. Because it was easier.
That same evening, she went for a walk and accidentally met a neighbor from her floor, an elderly woman named Klara Mikhailovna. They got to talking. The neighbor sighed:
— I feel sorry for you, girl. Zhanna is quite a piece of work. She drove out Artem’s first daughter-in-law, and the second one too. You, it turns out, are the third.
Kira was dumbfounded:
Comments are closed.