“Where did you put the storage key, Inna?”
Faina’s voice sliced through the morning quiet like a rusty gate. Standing at the stove in her faded daisy robe, clutching a wooden spoon like a weapon, she glared at her daughter-in-law.
“In the entrance drawer,” Inna said, pausing mid-slice. The knife gleamed under the kitchen light. “Where it always is.”
“It’s not there!” Faina banged the spoon so hard that red drops of borscht splattered across the tiles. “You keep rearranging everything! This is my apartment, and you act like I’m some unwanted guest!”
Inna slowly put the knife down and turned fully to her.
“Excuse me? Your apartment? Since when?”
Faina straightened, chin high, hair lacquered into a helmet.
“Since I moved in. I paid for your wedding, for your furniture—everything you two have, you have because of me!”
Inna stepped forward, hands on her hips.
“Paid? We spent three years paying off that wedding. And the furniture? Your brother carried the sofa because your back hurt!”
The front door slammed. Misha entered, tired and wet from the rain.
“What’s going on now?” he asked.
Faina rushed to him first, syrup in her voice, poison beneath.
“Tell your wife to stop disrespecting me! After everything I’ve done!”
Inna cut her off:
“She says this is her apartment, Misha.”
His expression froze.
“Mam… did you say that?”
Faina crossed her arms.
“If not for me, you’d still live in a dorm! I put my soul into this place!”
Inna laughed bitterly.
“You moved in three years ago after selling your house. Where’s that money, by the way?”
Faina flared.
“I spent it on you! Ungrateful—both of you!”
The fight exploded. Borscht splashed, towels flew, words became weapons.
Finally, Inna’s voice cut through the chaos:
“I’m done. If she can’t admit this is our home, I’m leaving.”
Misha looked at his mother—really looked—and something hardened in him.
“Mam… this is our place. Mine and Inna’s. If you don’t stop, you’ll be the one staying here alone.”
For the first time, fear flickered in Faina’s eyes.
When Inna left for Aunt Zina’s, Misha followed her.
Faina stayed in the wrecked kitchen, surrounded by spilled soup and silence, realizing the line she had finally crossed.
