At my anniversary, my mother-in-law raised her glass: «To the daughter of a cleaning lady who got married successfully!» My husband was choking with laughter and filming it on his phone. My mother stood up and said three words, after which my mother-in-law turned pale…

Margaret said nothing and left, closing the door softly. “Well, that’s that,” Anna exhaled, sinking onto the sofa.

“Not quite,” Ellen said, shaking her head. “It’s just the start. But you’ll manage.”

And Anna knew her mother was right.

It was just the beginning. The start of a new life, free from toxic relationships, from constantly proving her worth, from an unequal marriage to a man unable to cut the cord with his mother.

A week later, she filed for divorce.

Steven didn’t fight it, though he tried a few times to meet and “talk it out.” Anna refused, not out of spite but because she knew any talk would turn into manipulation and guilt-tripping.

She moved out of their apartment—too many memories, too many ghosts—and rented a small studio downtown, decorating it to her taste, no one else’s opinion in mind.

The birthday scandal faded, overtaken by newer dramas online. Occasionally, Anna stumbled across mentions of the “monster mother-in-law” or the “epic mom comeback,” but they no longer stung, just brought a wry smile.

The divorce was finalized quickly, without much fuss. Margaret didn’t show up to hearings, and Steven was polite but distant. They split their modest shared assets and went their separate ways.