Lena loved the morning. She would get up early, make herself a strong coffee, and open her laptop to start working on another article. In those moments, she felt confident, in control of every detail of her life. But with each passing day, that feeling of control slipped away.

Artyom had changed a long time ago. Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed before? Their marriage wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t exactly unhappy either. They existed in parallel, like neighbors who found it easier to live together than to deal with a divorce. He came home late from work, sometimes didn’t stay overnight, explaining it with business trips. She didn’t ask questions — not because she trusted him, but because she saw no point.

But what worried her most was not her husband’s behavior, but his mother. Alla Gennadyevna had been against their marriage from the very beginning.

“Artyom, you’re a man; you need a wife who will create comfort, not run around with a laptop,” she said with a slight smirk when she came to visit.

Lena pretended not to hear. After all, Alla didn’t live with them. But her influence over her son was enormous, and Lena knew it.

One evening…

Artyom went to the store, and Lena decided to take a hot bath. She filled the tub with bubbles, put on relaxing music, and leaned back, letting the warmth envelop her body.

About twenty minutes passed when she heard the front door slam. She didn’t pay it much attention — it meant her husband was back. But a few seconds later, voices came from behind the bathroom door.

“Have you finally made a decision?” — it was Alla Gennadyevna’s voice.

“Mom, I don’t know yet what’s best…” — Artyom answered uncertainly.

Lena froze. She had never eavesdropped on other people’s conversations, but something inside her made her hold her breath and stay still.

“What is there to think about?” — the mother-in-law said impatiently. “Make it so she leaves on her own. You don’t need to argue or explain. Let her decide she simply has no choice left.”

Lena pressed herself against the door, feeling her heart pounding wildly.

“Mom, you understand, it’s not that simple.”

“It’s simple if you do everything gradually. Today one thing, tomorrow another. The main thing is to bring her to the point where she packs her things and leaves herself. Believe me, when her problems start, when she begins to fear for her life, you will look like a poor, unhappy husband in front of everyone.”

Lena didn’t know what to do. Her head was spinning.

“She’s not a fool, Mom,” Artyom said quietly.

“Not a fool, but not all-powerful either,” the mother-in-law laughed.

Lena stepped sharply away from the door. She felt cold sweat break out over her body.

They want to break her. They want her to go mad.

The strange things are beginning…

Lena did not show that she knew anything. But from that evening, everything changed.

At first — small things. She set the alarm clock, but it didn’t ring. It seemed like a trifle, but then she found out someone had turned it off. Then she found a blister pack of pills in her makeup bag that she had never bought.

“Artyom, did you slip something into my bag?” she asked, showing him the discovery.

“What? Of course not,” he didn’t even look up from his phone.

And then… one day she came home and smelled gas. She panicked and rushed to the stove — all the burners were off. But the smell was strong.

“Did you leave the gas on again?” Artyom asked irritably as he came into the kitchen.

Lena froze.

“It wasn’t me.”

He looked at her intently as if weighing something in his head.

“Lena, you need to rest. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

She wanted to say that something was going on in the house. That things disappeared, strange objects appeared, that she had overheard their conversation. But looking at her husband, she suddenly realized — he was waiting for her to break.

He wants her to start doubting herself.

Lena didn’t know what to do. She realized she was trapped but saw no way out. Artyom was playing according to his mother’s script — methodically, calmly, without fuss. It wasn’t an open war but a painful siege.

She began to notice small details, her documents once disappeared, then turned up in a completely different place. Important contacts disappeared from her phone — including a friend she often confided in. Lightbulbs in the bathroom and kitchen burned out one after another, which was strange because they were new.

But the scariest thing was her laptop. One morning, opening it, she saw that the browser was open on pages with search queries: “symptoms of mental disorder,” “hallucinations caused by stress,” “how to convince someone to go to a psychiatric clinic.”

Lena slammed the lid shut, feeling cold sweat on her palms.

“It’s not me, it’s not me,” she whispered.

At that moment, Artyom entered the room.

“Lena, you’re on the computer again? Maybe you should take a break?” His voice was soft, but something icy flashed in his eyes.

She said nothing.

She needed to figure out how to get out.

The next day, Artyom said he would be late. Lena took it as an opportunity to quietly rummage through his things. She didn’t know what she was looking for — dirt, proof that he was staging all this? Or maybe she just needed to convince herself she hadn’t lost her mind yet?

But as soon as she opened his drawer, she froze.

There was a stack of her photos. Not ordinary ones, but strange. For example, she was sleeping, and next to her stood Artyom, looking straight into the camera. Or her face in a mirror reflection but with a distorted, anxious expression.

Lena frantically flipped through the pictures. Some looked like she had taken them herself, but she definitely didn’t remember doing so.

“What are you doing here?”

She spun around sharply. Artyom was standing in the doorway, his face completely calm.

“You were spying on me… You…” Her voice trembled.

“What are you making up?” He tilted his head as if studying her reaction.

“These photos… You…”

“Lena, do you really think I’m spying on you?” He smirked and stepped closer. “Listen, I understand everything. You’re tired, your nerves are shot, work is stressful. We’re adults, right? Let’s think logically.”

Lena stepped back.

“You want me to go crazy.”

“No, dear. I want you to get help.”

She rushed past him and ran out into the entrance hall, not remembering how she got outside. The wind chilled her face; her legs gave way.

But where to go?

She couldn’t be broken.

Lena didn’t return home. She hid at a colleague’s place, stayed there several nights while looking for a way to expose Artyom.

She managed to find something — copies of his correspondence with his mother. There were reports.

“She started getting nervous. Yesterday she said she doesn’t remember turning off the light.”

“She asked about the pills. I think soon she’ll start believing it’s her forgetfulness.”

“I’ll suggest she goes to a clinic soon — gently at first, but if she refuses, we’ll pressure her.”

Lena froze. They were trying to declare her insane.

She gathered evidence, recorded a conversation with one of Artyom’s ex-friends who hinted that “he always knew how to get rid of unwanted people.”

When Lena returned home, she was no longer the confused woman they tried to corner.

“You’re back?” Artyom looked at her with feigned relief.

“Yes. And I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” He frowned.

“I filed for divorce. And by the way, someone will be coming to check on you soon.”

Artyom stood in the doorway as Lena left. There was no anger or fear on his face. Only slight disappointment.

“Well then,” he said quietly. “Looks like this method didn’t work.”

Lena stepped over the threshold without looking back. But even now, she sometimes wakes up at night feeling someone’s gaze in the dark.