Youll always be poor, stuck in rented flats, her mother-in-law used to sneer. Now, she rented a room in Ksenias castle.
Can we change the curtains? Alvinas voice was thick and heavy, like the velvet drapes she despised. This colour its oppressive. Makes the room feel gloomy.
Ksenia turned slowly. She had chosen that fabric herselfdeep burgundy velvet, elegant against the pale walls and antique chest of drawers. A small victory in her own home.
You dont like them?
Oh, dont take it to heart, dear. Beggars cant be choosers, as they say. Just voicing my opinion. Or am I not allowed an opinion in my own sons house?
Alvina stood with her thin arms crossed, surveying the room with quiet disgust.
*Her* room. The one Ksenia and her husband had given her in their new hometheir castle, as James had joked when they first saw the turrets Ksenia had dreamed of since childhood.
Of course youre allowed an opinion, Alvina.
Good. I was starting to think Id need permission just to breathe in here.
Twenty years. Two decades, and nothing had changedonly the scenery. Once, it had been a rented flat with peeling floral wallpaper. Now, it was this grand house, every brick laid by their own hard work.
I just want a bit of comfort, Alvina added, running a finger along the polished dresser. Dust. Needs wiping. But then, youre used to that. Years of drifting from one rented hole to another.
Something clenched inside Ksenia. Not painjust familiarity. Like an old scar aching.
She remembered.
She remembered the day she and James had moved into their first flattiny, on the outskirts, with a leaky tap and creaky floorboards. Theyd been giddy with happiness.
Then Alvina arrived. Took one look at their modest home, pursed her lips, and delivered her verdictnot to her son, but to Ksenia.
*Youll always be poor, dragging him down with you. Mark my wordsyoull never have anything of your own.*
Ksenia had stayed silent then. What could she say? A twenty-year-old girl, in love, convinced love would conquer all.
And it had. But it had cost her twenty years. Twenty years of sleepless nights, of pawning engagement rings, of risky IT ventures that finally paid off.
Alvina had lost everything in that timefirst her husband, then her own flat in the city centre, swindled out of her savings by a very respectable lady shed trusted.
Now, she had nothing.
James says youve given me the best guest room, Alvina mused, drifting to the window. With a view of the garden. So I can watch you fussing over the roses and remember my place.
Our place is here now, Ksenia said firmly. And so is yours.
*My* place was my own flat, Alvina snapped. This is charity. A grand gesture so everyone sees what a saint my son married.
She turned, and in her eyes, Ksenia saw the same cold disdain from twenty years ago.
That night at dinner, Alvina circled back to the curtainsthis time, addressing only James.
Darling, I was thinking Youre a man of status now. Clients must visit. The house should reflect that. These dark rooms theyre depressing.
Ksenia set the salad down. Her hands didnt tremble. Shed learned that long ago.
We like it this way, Mum, James said gently. Ksenia has brilliant taste.
Practical taste, Alvina corrected, smiling indulgently. Shes used to things being durable. A good traitfor hard times. But now now we can afford lightness. A friend of mine is a decoratorshe could offer some advice.
Ksenia felt the trap. Refuse, and she was stubborn. Agree, and she admitted her own taste was lacking.
Ill think about it, she said evenly.
The next morning, she walked into the kitchen and froze. Her spice jarscollected from markets around the worldhad been shoved into a corner. In their place stood Alvinas china, the last remnant of her old life.
Just tidying, Alvina said behind her. Your chaos unsettles a man. A home should soothe him.
Ksenia wordlessly moved her spices back.
You didnt need to. I wouldve done it.
Oh, Im sure. You always do everything yourself. Strong women like you they make weak men.
The words struck like a blow.
All those yearscoding beside James, hunting investors, weathering failureserased in one sentence.
*She* had made him weak.
That night, James tried to mediate. Shes lost everything, Ksenia. She just wants to feel useful.
She *undermines* me, Ksenia said. Every day.
He didnt understand. He loved her, but he couldnt see the poison in his mothers words.
The final straw came on Saturday. Ksenia returned home to hear Alvina and a stranger on the terrace.
*these old-fashioned roses must go. A proper lawnopen, elegant!*
Ksenia stood in the shadows, listening.
*Her* garden. *Her* roses. The ones shed nurtured from seedlings.
Something inside her snappednot loudly, but irrevocably.
Enough.
She didnt confront them. She simply left, called an estate agent, and arranged for a flatluxury, ten minutes away.
When she returned, she placed the keys on the table.
Alvina, Ive solved your discomfort. Youre rightyou need your own space. Somewhere you can decorate as you please.
The room fell silent.
James stared. What?
Alvina paled. Youre throwing me out?
Giving you freedom, Ksenia said, smiling coldly. From my curtains, my spices, my roses. Well cover the rent, of course.
It was flawless. A giftone Alvina couldnt refuse without admitting shed wanted control, not comfort.
Two months later, the house felt light again. Ksenia hummed as she cooked. James laughed more. The castle was no longer a fortressjust a home.
They visited Alvina every Sunday. Shed decorated the flat in pale tones, hung sheer curtains. But there was no warmthonly sterile perfection.
One day, she complained about a broken tap.
The council said three days! Your father wouldve fixed it in minutes.
Then, Ksenia understood. It wasnt about her. It was about power. Alvina, stripped of control, clung to any shred of dominance she could find.
But Ksenia wasnt that girl from the rented flat anymore.
A year later, golden autumn light bathed the garden. Ksenia sat on the terrace, wrapped in a blanket, watching her roses fade with quiet beauty.
James joined her with two mugs.
Cold?
No. Im happy.
He kissed her temple. The shadow of obligation was gone. They were just *them* again.
When Alvina called laterasking them to move a wardrobeKsenia didnt flinch.
Tell her well send movers.
James nodded, dialling. No arguments. No guilt. Hed learned the new rules.
That night, Ksenia found an old photoher and James, young and grinning in their first shabby flat. She studied it, remembering Alvinas prophecy of eternal poverty.
Now, she saw the truth.
Poverty was temporary. Hers had been a beginning, a reason to fight.
But Alvinas poverty was in her soulin her need to belittle, to control, to resent.
Ksenia closed the album. She didnt feel like a victor anymore.
There had been no war. Just one bitter woman, trapped in her own envy.
And the castle? It wasnt a trophy. Just a home. A place where apple blossoms scented the air, where she and James sat in silence, hands entwined.
A place where shed finally foundnot wealthbut peace.
