— Marinka, did you put on that dress on purpose? — Galina Petrovna looked me up and down while my husband was fussing with the bags in the hallway. — You were told we have important guests today.
I adjusted the new blue dress I had spent an hour choosing.
— It’s beautiful, Sergey helped me pick it out.
— Sergey doesn’t understand women’s fashion, — my mother-in-law turned to the mirror, fixing her flawless hairstyle. — Well, it’s too late to change now. Just try not to attract too much attention.
Inside, I clenched. Married for three years, and I still couldn’t get used to her way of speaking — it wasn’t outright insulting, but after every sentence, I wanted to disappear.
— Mom, enough already, — Sergey entered the room with a bouquet for his mother. — Marina looks great.
— Of course, dear, — Galina Petrovna took the flowers and smiled sweetly. — I’m just worried everything will go well. You know what kind of guests we have — your father’s business partners.
An hour later, the house was filled with people. I rushed between the kitchen and living room, helping set the table. Galina Petrovna was directing everything, occasionally throwing remarks my way that only I could hear.
— The napkins are crooked, — she whispered as she passed by. — And smile more naturally, you’re not being interrogated.
I absentmindedly straightened the napkins and tried to relax my face. Nearby passed the wife of one of the partners, a full-figured lady in a bright dress. — What a lovely daughter-in-law you have, Galina! — she exclaimed. — She tries so hard!
— Yes, Marina is… hardworking, — my mother-in-law paused in a way that was impossible to miss. — We’re teaching her little by little. You know, she’s from a simple family, doesn’t know much. But it’s okay, she’ll learn.
The lady nodded sympathetically, and I felt my cheeks burn. From a simple family. Like it was a stigma I’d have to wash off years of service in the Petrov household.
The evening dragged on endlessly. I silently served dishes, poured wine, cleared dirty plates.
Galina Petrovna shone in the spotlight, talking about her charity projects and her husband’s successes.
Sometimes she mentioned Sergey — what a talented engineer he was, how quickly he was moving up at work.
About me — not a word. As if I didn’t exist.
After dinner, the guests moved to the living room. I began clearing the table when I heard my mother-in-law’s voice:
— Marina actually teaches at the university. Literature. But that’s more of a side job. Not really a career, of course, but at least some kind of activity.
I froze with the plates in my hands. A side job? I had defended my candidate degree at twenty-eight, taught three courses, and was writing a monograph. But in Galina Petrovna’s mouth, all that turned into “some kind of activity.”
Seven years passed. Seven long years of family dinners, holidays, and chance meetings where Galina Petrovna honed her skill of invisible barbs.
— Marinka has lost weight, — she remarked once at Sergey’s birthday, looking me over critically. — But it doesn’t suit you very well, dear. You look tired. Maybe you should take some vitamins?
The guests nodded, showing concern. But I knew it was just another stone thrown my way. A hint that I couldn’t take care of myself properly. — Thanks for your concern, — I smiled tensely. — I have a heavy workload right now. I’m defending my doctoral thesis.
— Oh, that dissertation of yours again, — Galina Petrovna waved her hand as if shooing a pesky fly. — Sergey, pour your mother some wine. Tell us more about your new project.
And again, I became invisible. My achievements vanished into thin air, not worthy of even a second of attention. The most painful thing was that no one noticed anything. To everyone, Galina Petrovna remained a sweet, caring woman.
When I tried to talk to Sergey, he brushed me off:
— Marish, what are you imagining? Mom is just straightforward like that. She loves you, she just doesn’t know how to show it.
I learned to survive. I reduced visits to a minimum, made up important tasks whenever my mother-in-law called me over. But completely avoiding meetings was impossible. For our tenth wedding anniversary, Galina Petrovna organized a “surprise” — gathering all the relatives. I stood in my house accepting congratulations when I overheard her telling her sister:
— You know, I always dreamed of a different daughter-in-law for Sergey. Remember Allochka? Now that was a match!
And here… — she lowered her voice, but I heard it anyway — she has to put up with this. Marina is not bad, but so… ordinary. Sergey could have found someone better.
A lump rose in my throat. Ten years. Ten years I tried to earn her approval, to be worthy of her precious son. And all this time she just “put up” with me.
That evening I fought back for the first time. I approached them with a tray and “accidentally” overheard their conversation: — Galina Petrovna, I think it’s good that Sergey chose a normal girl and not a gold-digger with daddy’s money. At least our children will grow up with brains, not just a bank account.
Her sister awkwardly giggled. Mother-in-law paled but quickly composed herself:
— What are you saying, Marina? We were just reminiscing about youth.
— Of course, — I smiled sweetly. — Just sharing my opinion. By the way, my monograph made the shortlist for the Academy of Sciences award. But that’s just a small thing. Let’s talk more about Sergey’s project.
After that evening, the battle moved into a cold phase. Galina Petrovna became more cautious but didn’t stop. Her barbs just became thinner and more sophisticated.
I immersed myself in work. Became head of a department, started lecturing at business schools. And tried not to think about the fact that in my mother-in-law’s eyes, I would forever remain “that Marina from a simple family.”
—
— Colleagues, I present to you the new Director of Development of our holding company, — the CEO raised his glass. — Marina Andreevna agreed to lead this direction, and we are very glad to have her on our team.
I scanned the conference room full of employees at my new workplace and froze.
In the third row, among the mid-level managers, sat Galina Petrovna. Our eyes met, and I saw her expression change from confusion to horror.
I knew she worked at a large company, but had no idea it was this one. Fate had given me a gift I couldn’t refuse. — Thank you for the warm welcome, — I smiled, looking directly at my mother-in-law. — I’m sure we’ll work well together. In the coming weeks, I will hold personal meetings with every department.
After the presentation, employees approached me to introduce themselves and share ideas. Galina Petrovna kept to the sidelines, but I saw how her fingers gripping her folder turned white.
The next day, I called her in first.
— Please, Galina Petrovna, — I gestured to the chair opposite me. — Have a seat.
She sat on the very edge, straightening her back. Panic flickered in her eyes, carefully hidden behind a mask of dignity.
— Marina… I mean, Marina Andreevna… I didn’t know you…
— That I’m capable of more than a “side job at the university”? — I leaned back in the chair. — Yes, life is full of surprises.
Tell me about your department. Judging by the reports, the performance leaves much to be desired.
For the next hour, I methodically went through her work. Asked uncomfortable questions, demanded explanations, found weaknesses.
All strictly business, no personal attacks. But I saw how she shrank more with each passing minute.
— Rewrite this report, — I handed her the folder. — This work is unworthy of a specialist at your level. I’m sure you can do better. Or can’t you?
— I can, — she forced out. — Of course, I can.
— Excellent. I expect it by nine tomorrow. And, Galina Petrovna, — I paused, — in this office, I judge people by their professional qualities, not their background. I hope you share this approach?
She nodded and hurried out. I leaned back and for the first time in ten years felt I could breathe deeply. The following weeks became hell for my mother-in-law. I wasn’t nitpicking on purpose — I just demanded from her what I demanded from everyone else.
But for a woman used to looking down on me, every order from me was a slap in the face.
The climax came at the company party. Galina Petrovna was sitting at a table with colleagues when I approached to greet everyone. — Is it true you’re related? — asked a young employee.
— Yes, — I nodded. — Galina Petrovna is my mother-in-law. She taught me a lot for ten years. Told me I should know my place. Well, now I know it.
There was a pause. Mother-in-law turned crimson.
— But you know, — I continued, addressing everyone, — I’m grateful to her. If it weren’t for her constant reminders of my “ordinariness,” I probably wouldn’t have strived to prove otherwise.
So thank you, Galina Petrovna. For the motivation.
A month later, she resigned. Sergey tried to find out what happened, but I just shrugged:
— Your mother made the decision herself. Said she wanted to spend more time with her grandchildren.
— Grandma Galya! — three-year-old Liza ran to the door hearing the bell.
I wiped my hands on the apron and went to open. At the door stood Galina Petrovna with a huge box of building blocks and an uncertain smile.
— Marina, hello. I heard… Sergey said Liza likes building sets.
— Come in, — I stepped aside. — We’re just baking cookies.
A lot changed in those three years. After resigning, Galina Petrovna didn’t appear at our house for six months.
Sergey was torn between me and his mother. Then I found out I was pregnant.
One of the first to know was my mother-in-law — Sergey couldn’t wait and called her straight from the maternity hospital after the ultrasound.
She arrived an hour later, stopped at the door of the ward and quietly asked:
— May I?
That day we spoke honestly for the first time. No barbs, no masks, no games.
She admitted she was always afraid of losing her son, and I seemed a threat to her — too independent, too smart, too… not the daughter-in-law she had imagined.
— I’m from a simple family myself, — she said then, crumpling a handkerchief. — I spent my whole life proving I was worthy. And when I saw you as a young woman, I got scared. I was foolish.
Now she came once a week. Played with Liza, helped when I stayed late at work. We didn’t become best friends — too much water had flowed under the bridge. But we learned to respect each other. — Mom, can Grandma Galya stay for dinner? — Liza clung to her grandmother’s hand. — We’re making pizza!
— If Grandma doesn’t mind, — I looked at my mother-in-law.
— I… I’d love to, — she smiled awkwardly. — If I’m not a bother.
— You won’t be, — I nodded. — Liza, show Grandma how we roll out the dough.
Watching them play with the dough together, I thought how strange life is. For ten years we fought each other, wasted energy on mutual barbs and resentments. But we could have just lived.
— Marina, — Galina Petrovna lifted her head from the dough. — I wanted to say… You’re great. Really. With work, with Liza, and… everything.
— Thank you, — I smiled. — You’re great too. Not everyone can admit their mistakes.
— Mom, Grandma, why so serious? — Liza frowned. — Let’s grate the cheese instead!
We exchanged glances and laughed. For the first time in all those years — genuinely and easily.
In the evening, seeing my mother-in-law off, I said:
— Next time come with Viktor Pavlovich. Sergey bought a new grill, wants to try it out on everyone.
— Really? — she beamed. — We… we will definitely come.
Closing the door, I leaned my back against it. Sergey was putting tired Liza to bed in the kitchen, humming a song.
Cookies were finishing baking in the oven. The first snow was falling outside.
Sometimes for happiness, you just need to stop fighting. And give each other a second chance.
