My husband demanded that I give my dacha to my mother-in-law. The dacha that I built from scratch and invested all my money and time into.
“Mom deserves better,” the husband said, as if they were talking about selling unwanted furniture. “You’ll buy yourself something else later… someday.”
I had to agree, but I came up with a brilliant plan to take revenge on my greedy mother-in-law, who was not satisfied with her spacious apartment.
I’ll tell you what I did, follow the link in the comments 👇👇
Spring, my dacha.
I sat, hugging my knees, in a woolen cape, looking at the garden that I had been cultivating for many years. I built this house almost with my bare hands.
And now he didn’t belong to me anymore.
“Mom deserves better,” the husband said, as if they were talking about selling unwanted furniture. “You’ll buy yourself something else later… someday.”
“Someday.” Simple as that.
He spoke on behalf of his mother, a woman who always looked at me with a slight squint, as if I were unworthy of her son.
She wanted this dacha. A spacious apartment was not enough for her.
I didn’t sleep that night. I lay in a chair by the fireplace. My thoughts wouldn’t let me rest. And suddenly… something clicked. I realized: I need a plan for revenge.
The plan came together at dawn.
In one morning I had changed the garden beyond recognition. I moved the flower beds, hid the tools, and in the place where there was used to be a cozy tea corner, I put a rusty bathtub filled with reeds.
Everything looked abandoned, as if no one had lived there for years.
Then I took care of the house. I took down the curtains, put away the cozy pillows, hid the dishes, covered the furniture with gray fabrics. The house immediately became empty.
When the mother-in-law arrived to “inspect her new property,” she froze at the gate.
“This… this is not what you said,” she whispered to her husband.
I just shrugged: “It’s all fair and square. The house is as is. You can live in it, you can sell it. Just do everything here yourself now.”
And I left.
Not in tears and not in rage.
And a couple of months later I opened a small tea shop in the city.
The mother-in-law did not stay at the dacha for long. They say she put the house up for sale. But no one is buying it.
And I don’t miss it anymore. Because sometimes, in order to keep what’s yours, you need to be able to let go.
