You should be a wife, not a guest! My husband yelled when I refused to make lunch for his family

Nika had spent years shaping herself into the perfect wife. She cooked, cleaned, smiled, and hosted without complaint. But beneath her polished surface, she was crumbling. Every effort to please Lev and his family chipped away at her own identity.

One Sunday morning, as Nika quietly made breakfast, Lev walked in groggy and hungry. He greeted her lazily and immediately asked what was for breakfast. She smiled and began preparing his favorite omelet. He crept behind her, wrapped his hands around her shoulders, and dropped his usual line: “You’re the mistress of the house, right?” Nika froze. That phrase always meant something unpleasant was coming.

Lev announced that his mother and sister Kristina would be coming for lunch, along with Kristina’s unruly twins. Nika tried to hide her discomfort. She already knew what this meant: hours of cooking, cleaning, and being silently judged. Still, she put on a brave face and began preparing.

By the time the doorbell rang that afternoon, the house was spotless. The oven was roasting potatoes and meat, and her best cake chilled in the fridge. Varvara Dmitrievna, Lev’s overbearing mother, stormed in, commenting on everything. Kristina followed, the twins running through the apartment without removing their shoes. As usual, no one corrected them.

Lunch was chaotic. Kristina boasted about her cooking, their mother critiqued everything Nika had prepared, and Lev sat back, enjoying the show. When Kristina suggested turning these Sunday lunches into a weekly tradition at Nika’s place, Lev agreed without hesitation. That was the moment something in Nika snapped.

“Excuse me, but next Sunday, I want to rest,” she said softly.

Shock filled the room. Kristina mocked her. Varvara lectured her about family values. Lev remained silent until later, when he accused her of humiliating him in front of his family.

“You should be a wife, not a guest,” he shouted.

Nika stood firm. “And I deserve to be treated like a person, not your family’s maid.”

The next Sunday, Nika stayed in her room. Lev struggled in the kitchen, trying to prepare the lunch himself. When his family arrived and saw that Nika wasn’t serving, chaos erupted. They left early, and Lev was humiliated.

That night, Nika calmly packed her bags. She told Lev she was leaving, moving in with her friend Alina. He tried to stop her, but she was resolute.

“Five years of compromise,” she said. “All I became was your family’s free maid.”

At Alina’s, she felt peace for the first time in years. Lev called and begged. His mother sent scathing messages. Kristina accused her of abandoning the family. Nika ignored them all.

Weeks passed. Nika’s posture changed. Her face softened. At work, her boss remarked how she looked different. “Like something heavy finally left you,” he said.

Lev showed up at her office, pleading for a second chance. She asked him what would change. He had no real answer.

Later that day, Nika filed for divorce.

Three months later, Nika moved into her own small apartment. It wasn’t grand, but it was hers. She brewed tea and looked out the window, realizing how far she’d come. Lev sent one last message: “I miss you. Can we try again?”

She deleted it without hesitation. She had learned that living for others only dimmed her own light. Now, she was free, and she was finally living for herself.