I hardly remember my parents, I grew up in an orphanage. When I was ten years old, my mother died. I did not know my father. My father left my mother as soon as he found out she was pregnant. Since then, he has not appeared in my life. I had no other family, so I ended up in an orphanage. No one wanted to take in a girl who was about to become a teenager. For some reason, the couples who came to the orphanage preferred young children. Every time I was very hurt, because I wanted to have a real family so badly. Since then, I realized that I had to rely only on myself. I dreamed of leaving the orphanage as soon as possible.
At eighteen, I inherited my mother’s two-room apartment. Later I entered the university. I studied on a budget. The realization that I had no one to rely on gave me the impetus to achieve everything on my own. I studied well, took massage courses, and in four months I got a job that brought me income. Later, I met my future husband.
We studied in the same group. I was a very good student, which is not the case with Robert. He often missed classes. Since I was the head of our group, we often talked to him. Later we both ended up in the dean’s office because of his absences. I had to be responsible for covering for Vasyl almost every time. Once he invited me for coffee and said: “I want to thank you for your help.” Since then, we have been in a relationship. In my fifth year, Robert and I got married. Everything was fine, except for his mother, who did not let me live in peace.
I got the impression that the fact that I was from an orphanage gave her the right to treat me disrespectfully. You should have seen her expression when I first objected to my mother-in-law. She was wrong that orphanage children are not able to defend themselves. I immediately let her know that I had my own views. This was the reason for my mother-in-law’s attitude. My mother tried her best to dissuade Robert from marrying me.
But in vain. We got married anyway. While my apartment was being renovated, we lived in a rented apartment. My husband’s mother has a one-room apartment without renovation. I still cannot understand how she, her husband, Robert, and his sister could live there. Recently, we were visiting my mother-in-law. At the table, she said that it would be more appropriate if Robert and I lived in her apartment and they lived in my two-room apartment.
“It would be much more convenient,” she said. I didn’t think long about it: “Why should I give my apartment to someone else? It’s my apartment, and only I have the right to dispose of it as I wish.” You should have seen the scandal that followed my words. Now I am my mother-in-law’s worst enemy. But I don’t care. The main thing is that my husband supports and loves me. I will not allow anyone to climb on my neck.
