“Anya, this place is simply wonderful!” Marina exclaimed as the friends looked at photos of the new restaurant on the phone.
“And you say you already booked a table?”
“Yes, for seven in the evening,” Anya couldn’t hide her joyful excitement. “Five years of married life is no joke. I want to celebrate it somehow special.”
“Does Slavik know?”
“Of course! I told him a week ago. We agreed to meet right there after work,” Anya tossed back a rebellious lock of hair. “I want everything to be perfect. I even bought a new dress.”
Marina smiled, studying her friend:
“You’ll be irresistible! Slavik won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
“I hope so…” Anya sighed. “The last few months have been so tense. Work, home, endless chores. It feels like we barely talk anymore. Everything’s rushed, everything’s a hurry.”
“This evening will definitely fix everything,” Marina encouraged her. “A romantic dinner, just the two of you…”
“The main thing is that nothing happens unexpectedly,” Anya closed the restaurant photo app. “Especially from Irina Georgievna’s side.”
“The mother-in-law again?” Marina rolled her eyes.
“Who else?” Anya shook her head. “You have no idea how much her calls have been driving me crazy. One moment it’s a faucet to fix, the next, move a cabinet. And it’s always urgent, always only Slavik can do it.”
“And he?”
“What about him? He drops everything and goes. Mom asks,” Anya said bitterly. “But today—it’s just us. I insisted he turn off his phone when he arrives at the restaurant.”
Marina hugged her friend:
“Everything will be fine. Enjoy your evening.”
The anniversary day started with chaos. At work, Anya suddenly had problems with a report that needed urgent revision. Her boss was breathing down her neck, and time was mercilessly ticking towards six, with no end in sight.
“Oleg Ivanovich, I really can’t stay late today,” Anya pleaded, glancing at the clock. “It’s our wedding anniversary, and the restaurant table is booked.”
The boss snorted:
“Alright, finish it tomorrow morning. But I want the report on my desk by ten!”
Anya exhaled with relief. Quickly packing up, she rushed to the salon, where she was already expected. Makeup, hairstyle—everything had to be flawless. Looking in the mirror at her transformed reflection, she imagined how Slavik would admire her, seeing her so beautiful.
Leaving the salon, Anya called her husband:
“Slavik, I was a bit late at work and at the salon. I’ll be at the restaurant in about twenty minutes. Have you left yet?”
“Yes, I’m almost there,” her husband’s voice sounded strange, but Anya blamed poor connection.
“Great! Wait for me, I’m coming soon,” she hurried to the taxi stand.
On the way to the restaurant, Anya ran through the plan for the evening in her mind. First dinner, then exchanging gifts, and finally a surprise she had ordered: a cake with candles and a photo from their wedding. She smiled imagining Slavik’s reaction.
The taxi stopped at the restaurant entrance. Anya took a deep breath, adjusted her dress, and entered. The receptionist led her to the reserved table.
And then she saw what made her freeze in place. Slavik was sitting at the table, and next to him, with a satisfied smile, was Irina Georgievna herself.
Anya felt the ground slip away beneath her feet. Five years together, and Slavik still didn’t understand how important those moments were to her—moments belonging only to the two of them. Taking a deep breath, she slowly approached the table.
“Oh, finally!” Irina Georgievna exclaimed as if she had been waiting for Anya, not the other way around. “Slavochka and I have already ordered an aperitif. Sit down.”
Slavik smiled apologetically:
“Hi, Anya. You look very beautiful today.”
Anya silently sat down, feeling the festive mood evaporate with every passing second.
“You won’t believe how everything turned out,” Irina Georgievna babbled. “Slavik stopped by to pick up the microwave they delivered to me. And I remembered that today is your anniversary! Five years is a serious date—how could we not celebrate? So I asked to be driven here. He couldn’t refuse his own mother.”
Anya glanced at her husband. He was diligently studying the menu, avoiding her eyes.
“Of course he couldn’t,” Anya replied coldly. “When has Slavik ever refused you anything, Irina Georgievna?”
The mother-in-law didn’t catch the sarcasm:
“Exactly! A good son, unlike some others. My neighbor, Zinaida Petrovna, hasn’t been able to get her son to come fix a shelf for two weeks. He’s always too busy, you see.”
Anya opened the menu, feverishly thinking how to save the evening. Maybe ask to move them to another table? But Irina Georgievna would definitely make a scene. Maybe hint to Slavik to take his mother home? But he probably wouldn’t get the hint.
“I’ve already ordered us some appetizers,” Irina Georgievna continued. “I couldn’t wait, I was very hungry. Hope you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Anya gritted her teeth.
Slavik finally looked up from the menu:
“Anya, what will you have? I wanted to order a steak.”
“Steak?” Irina Georgievna interrupted. “Why pay so much? For that money, I could buy three kilos of good meat at the market and have enough for a week. Young people just don’t know how to count.”
Anya felt anger boil inside but held back:
“I think I’ll have fish.”
“Right,” approved the mother-in-law. “Fish is healthier. Although I wouldn’t pay that much for fish either. Just last week, perch was on sale at our little shop…”
She launched into a detailed story about fish prices in the area where she lived. Anya caught the waiter’s eye and barely nodded, signaling she was ready to order. Anything to stop this endless monologue.
After the waiter took their order, Irina Georgievna finally paused to sip water. Anya seized the moment:
“Slavik, do you remember how we came to a restaurant together for the first time five years ago?”
“Yes, of course,” her husband smiled. “It was…”
“Oh, I remember when Slavochka went to a restaurant for the first time!” Irina Georgievna interrupted. “He was eight years old, and his father and I took him to ‘Russian Court’ for his birthday. He spilled soup on his new little suit…”
And it went on and on. Stories after stories from Slavik’s childhood, endless memories that left no room for Anya. She sat, nodding mechanically, feeling their special evening turn into yet another “one mother-in-law’s show.”
“Remember, Slavochka, when you were in school…”
Anya couldn’t take it anymore:
“Excuse me for interrupting, Irina Georgievna, but today we gathered to celebrate our anniversary. Five years together.”
Irina Georgievna pursed her lips:
“I remember perfectly well why we are here. I’m just telling interesting stories. Or aren’t you interested in what Slavik was like as a child?”
“I’m very interested,” Anya answered diplomatically. “But today, I’d rather talk more about us, about our plans…”
“What plans?” Irina Georgievna asked suspiciously. “Slavochka, are you hiding something from me?”
Slavik, who had been silently watching the quarrel, quickly intervened:
“No one is hiding anything, Mom. Anya and I just wanted to discuss where we’ll go on vacation this summer.”
“Vacation?” Irina Georgievna’s eyes widened. “What about the dacha? You promised to help with the fence!”
“I’ll have time to help with the fence and go on vacation,” Slavik tried to calm her.
“Easy for you to say! And I’ll be the only one struggling with that fence? At my age?”
The waiter brought the ordered dishes, providing a temporary pause in the tense conversation. Anya watched her husband stealthily caring for his mother: sliding the bread basket closer, pouring water, fixing her napkin. He did all this mechanically, out of many years’ habit, not even noticing he was completely ignoring his wife.
“Try the fish, Mom, it’s very tasty,” Slavik put a piece of his dish on Irina Georgievna’s plate.
“Is it? To me, it’s oversalted,” she frowned. “And the sauce is strange. When I cook fish…”
Anya silently poked at her salad, trying to contain her growing irritation. She had dreamed about this evening, imagining how she and Slavik would recall happy moments from their life together, share plans for the future, talk about feelings. Instead, she listened to the endless stories of the mother-in-law about how to properly cook fish, wash shirts, and save on utilities.
“Anya, why aren’t you eating?” Irina Georgievna suddenly noticed her daughter-in-law. “Don’t you like it? For that kind of money?”
“No, everything’s fine,” Anya forced a smile. “Just lost in thought.”
“About what?” the mother-in-law pressed.
“About how fast time flies. Five years have already passed since our wedding.”
“Yes, time spares no one,” sighed Irina Georgievna. “I was just going through photos and found pictures from my wedding. Thirty-seven years ago! Can you imagine? And it feels like yesterday. I was so slim then…”
Again, the conversation drifted away from Anya and Slavik, from their celebration, from their relationship.
Anya discreetly took out her phone and texted her husband: “Can I have a minute? Just us.”
Slavik read the message, looked at his wife confused, but nodded.
“Mom, we’ll be back soon,” he stood up.
“Where are you going?” Irina Georgievna asked suspiciously.
“Anya wants to show me… um… a painting in the restaurant lobby,” Slavik lied awkwardly.
“What painting?” the mother-in-law tried to get up. “I want to see it too.”
“No, no, you stay,” Anya quickly said. “It’ll be quick.”
They moved to the far corner of the hall where no one could hear them.
“Slavik, how could you?” Anya struggled to hold back emotions. “Why did you bring your mother to our anniversary?”
Her husband shrugged helplessly:
“Anya, what could I do? She found out we were going to the restaurant and insisted. Said she wanted to congratulate us too. I couldn’t refuse her.”
“Why couldn’t you? You’re an adult, Slavik! We agreed to spend this evening just the two of us. I prepared, bought a new dress, booked the salon…”
“You see what she’s like,” Slavik lowered his voice. “She’ll immediately start to sulk, say I abandoned her, that she’s lonely. You know her.”
“I do. And I know you always indulge her whims. Always! Even on our special day, she matters more than me, than us!”
“You’re unfair,” Slavik frowned. “She’s my mother. It’s hard for her alone since dad… well, you know. She needs attention.”
“And what about me? Don’t I need it?” Tears welled up in Anya’s eyes. “I’m your wife, Slavik. Don’t I deserve at least one evening a year alone with you?”
Her husband looked helplessly at the table where Irina Georgievna was glaring at her watch.
“Let’s not argue in the restaurant,” he pleaded. “We’ll spend this evening as three, and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“Make it up?” Anya smiled bitterly. “How? With another ruined holiday?”
They returned to the table. Irina Georgievna immediately bombarded them with questions:
“What secrets? Why can’t you talk in front of me?”
“No secrets, Mom,” Slavik answered tiredly. “Anya just wanted to ask me about a gift for you. Your birthday is coming soon.”
That lie, meant to calm the mother, hurt Anya even more. Even now, when she directly told him how she felt, he only thought about pleasing his mother.
“Really?” Irina Georgievna softened noticeably. “How sweet of you, Anya. And I thought…”
“What did you think, Irina Georgievna?” Anya snapped.
“That you’re unhappy with my presence,” the mother-in-law said bluntly. “You always react like this when I come or call Slavochka.”
“Why?” Anya decided not to hold back anymore. “I really appreciate your relationship with Slavik. But sometimes, my husband and I want to be alone. Especially on a day like today.”
“So I’m in the way?” Irina Georgievna straightened up, ready to fight. “I, who gave birth to and raised Slavochka, who devoted my whole life to him, am in the way? And who are you? Five years next to him and already bossing around!”
The atmosphere at the table was tense to the breaking point. Anya saw Slavik shrink in his chair, afraid to intervene between the two closest women.
“I’m his wife,” Anya said firmly. “And yes, we’ve been married five years. In those five years, I’ve never tried to come between you. Never forbidden him to visit, help, spend time with you. I only ask one thing—to respect our personal space and our holidays.”
“Yeah, right!” Irina Georgievna snorted. “What secrets can there be from a mother? What kind of modern nonsense is this? We didn’t have that in our time. Family means all together!”
“Mom, please,” Slavik finally intervened. “Let’s not make scenes in the restaurant.”
“I make scenes?” Irina Georgievna was outraged. “Your wife is rude to me! I come to them with all my heart, and they…”
At that tense moment, the waiter approached their table carrying a cake with lit candles. On top of the cake was the inscription “5 years of love” and a small wedding photo of Anya and Slavik.
“The ordered dessert for the anniversary couple,” the waiter announced, placing the cake on the table.
An awkward silence followed. Irina Georgievna stared at the cake as if it were a bomb about to explode. Slavik looked at the cake, then at his wife, clearly not knowing how to react. Anya felt the last drop of her patience evaporate.
“Anya, did you order this?” Slavik asked quietly. “Very beautiful…”
“Beautiful?” Anya scoffed. “I thought beautiful means a husband remembers the anniversary and spends it with his wife, not drags his mother along.”
“What do you mean ‘drags’?” Irina Georgievna snapped. “Did I force myself? Slavochka suggested it himself!”
Anya looked at her husband:
“Is that true, Slavik? You suggested your mother come with us to our anniversary?”
Slavik looked cornered:
“No, not exactly… I stopped by to pick up her microwave, and she remembered the anniversary and said she wanted to celebrate with us. I couldn’t refuse.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” Anya said bitterly. “You never can refuse her. Even if it means ruining our celebration.”
She stood up, took her purse:
“Then have dinner with your mother. I’m going home. Enjoy the cake.”
“Anya, wait!” Slavik tried to stop her, but she was already heading for the exit.
“Ungrateful!” Irina Georgievna shouted after her. “Slavochka, don’t run after her, let her calm down!”
But Anya didn’t look back. She left the restaurant and caught a taxi. Tears choked her, but she didn’t let them fall. Not now, not for this.
In the taxi, her phone vibrated. A message from Slavik: “Anya, please come back. Mom is upset. We’re waiting for you.”
That was the last straw. “Mom is upset”! And what about her feelings? Was Slavik really so blind that he didn’t see how deeply he had hurt her?
At home, Anya quickly packed necessary things in a small bag. She couldn’t stay there tonight, didn’t want to see Slavik when he returned. She called another taxi and went to Marina’s.
Her friend, seeing Anya in tears at the door, understood everything without words:
“What did that idiot do?”
“He brought his mother to our anniversary,” Anya finally let the tears flow freely. “Can you imagine? Five years together, and he couldn’t give me one evening without her presence!”
Marina hugged her friend:
“Come in. I’ll make tea, and you’ll tell me everything.”
All evening Anya poured out her heart, telling how their relationship with Slavik had changed over five years, how gradually his mother took more and more space in their life, how he couldn’t refuse her even the smallest things.
“I was never against their communication,” Anya said wiping tears. “On the contrary, I always supported him when he went to help his mom. But why can’t he understand that sometimes we need time just for the two of us?”
“Because he’s a mama’s boy,” Marina answered directly. “He’ll stay that way unless you put your foot down.”
“Do you think I should?” Anya looked doubtful. “What if he chooses her over me?”
“If he does, then so be it,” Marina shrugged. “Better to know now than suffer your whole life.”
Anya’s phone kept buzzing with messages and missed calls, but she didn’t answer. She needed time to gather her thoughts, to figure out what to do next. One thing she knew for sure—this couldn’t go on.
The next day, Slavik came to Marina’s. Anya agreed to see him but only in the yard—she wasn’t ready for a long, private conversation.
“Anya, forgive me,” Slavik began as soon as they were alone on the bench near the entrance. “I didn’t think you’d be so upset.”
“You didn’t?” Anya looked him straight in the eyes. “Slavik, we were preparing for this evening. I reminded you about it for a week. I bought a new dress, had my hair done. And you didn’t think it would bother me to see your mother at our table?”
“I got into a tough situation,” he spread his hands. “Mom was so happy when she heard about the restaurant. Said she hadn’t been anywhere for a long time, that she was lonely…”
“And you decided her loneliness was more important than our celebration,” Anya finished for him. “As always.”
“That’s unfair!” Slavik objected. “I just wanted everyone to be happy.”
“Everyone?” Anya smiled bitterly. “Was I happy, do you think? When your mother interrupted me, criticized the food, told endless stories from your childhood, and accused me of being selfish?”
Slavik lowered his head:
“I know she can be difficult. But she’s an old, lonely woman. It’s hard for her.”
“And for us? Isn’t it hard when she interferes in every decision? When you drop everything for her at the first call? When she shows up unannounced and stays all day?”
Anya took a breath and continued more calmly:
“Slavik, I’m not asking you to give up your mother. I’m asking for healthy boundaries. You’re an adult, you have your own family, your own life. Your mother should respect that.”
“She’s just not used to thinking that way,” Slavik tried to explain. “For her, family means everyone together, always.”
“And are you ready to live like that your whole life?” Anya asked directly. “Because I’m not. I can’t and won’t live in your mother’s shadow for another five years. If you can’t set boundaries, I will.”
“What do you mean?” Slavik looked worried.
“I want us to live our own life, Slavik. For our holidays to be ours. For your mother to learn to respect our time and space. If you can’t explain that to her, if her wishes will always be more important than mine—we need to seriously think about our future.”
Slavik went pale:
“Are you threatening to leave me?”
“No,” Anya shook her head. “I’m saying I don’t want to live five more years in your mother’s shadow. I’m tired of fighting for your attention, tired of feeling like a stranger in my own family.”
They sat silently, watching children playing nearby. Each thought his own thoughts.
“I’ll talk to her,” Slavik finally said. “I’ll explain we need more time alone.”
“You promised that after last New Year,” Anya reminded him. “And after my birthday. And nothing changed.”
“This time I’m serious,” Slavik took her hand. “Give me one more chance, Anya. I’ll prove you’re more important to me than anyone else.”
Anya wanted to believe him. Really wanted to. But years of disappointment had taught her caution.
“Alright,” she gently freed her hand. “But this time I expect real actions, not just promises.”
“I’ll fix everything,” Slavik assured her. “When will you come home?”
“Tomorrow,” Anya replied. “I need a little more time.”
A week passed. Anya returned home, but the tension between her and Slavik remained. They spoke politely, discussed household matters, but avoided the topic of Irina Georgievna. Slavik visited his mother several times, but Anya didn’t ask if he’d talked to her about their problems. She was waiting for actions, not reports.
On Friday evening, Slavik came home earlier than usual.
“Get ready,” he said at the door. “We have a reservation for seven.”
“A reservation?” Anya was surprised. “Where?”
“At ‘White Garden.’ It’s a new restaurant on the embankment. They say the cuisine is amazing,” Slavik smiled. “I decided we deserve to restart our anniversary. Just you and me.”
Anya couldn’t hide her joyful excitement:
“Really? What about…”
“Mom?” Slavik finished for her. “I told her tonight is an important evening for just us two. And it will be like that from now on for our holidays.”
“How did she react?” Anya held her breath.
“Of course, she wasn’t happy,” Slavik admitted honestly. “She said I’m an ungrateful son and that you’re turning me against her. But I was firm. I said I love her, but we need our own space.”
Anya hugged her husband:
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“I know,” he kissed the top of her head. “You were right. I let my mom interfere in our lives for too long. But now everything will be different. I promise.”
“It won’t be easy,” Anya warned. “She won’t give up so easily.”
“I’m ready,” Slavik said confidently. “You’re my wife, we’re family. And I’ll protect our happiness.”
At the ‘White Garden’ restaurant, it was cozy and romantic. Dimmed lights, live music, exquisite cuisine—everything contributed to the special atmosphere. They talked, recalled happy moments of their life together, planned the future. This was exactly the evening Anya had dreamed of.
When the dessert was served, Slavik took a small box out of his pocket.
“What’s this?” Anya asked.
“Open it,” he smiled.
Inside was a delicate bracelet with a small heart pendant. The date of their wedding was engraved on the heart.
“It’s beautiful,” Anya whispered, tears welling up.
“I wanted to give it to you in the restaurant on our anniversary,” Slavik confessed. “But everything went off plan.”
At that moment his phone rang. Slavik looked at the screen—it was his mother calling. He looked at Anya, then at the phone, and pressed “decline.”
“Now is our time,” he said, covering Anya’s hand with his. “Mom can wait till tomorrow.”
It was a small gesture, but for Anya it meant more than all the words and promises. For the first time in a long time, she felt that she truly came first in her husband’s life.
The following Sunday, they went to Irina Georgievna’s for lunch. The atmosphere was tense. The mother-in-law deliberately talked only to her son, ignoring her daughter-in-law. When Slavik went to the store for a forgotten salad ingredient, Irina Georgievna finally addressed Anya:
“Happy now? You’ve turned your son against his own mother.”
“I never turned Slavik against you,” Anya answered calmly. “On the contrary, I always supported your relationship.”
“But now he refuses to come when I ask!” Irina Georgievna was outraged. “He says he has plans with you!”
“Because he really has his own life,” Anya tried to speak softly but firmly. “Irina Georgievna, Slavik loves you. Very much. But he’s an adult man, with a wife, a job, friends, hobbies. He can’t drop everything and run to you at the first call.”
“He used to,” muttered the mother-in-law.
“And that was wrong,” Anya dared to say what she had wanted for a long time. “Neither for him, nor for you, nor for me. Slavik was torn between us, felt guilty toward you and toward me. Do you want your son to live in constant stress?”
Irina Georgievna was silent, but Anya saw her words made the mother think.
“I don’t want to take Slavik away from you,” Anya continued. “I just want a healthy family. So that sometimes we can spend time alone, so our holidays belong to us. Is that too much?”
“In my time, everything was different,” sighed Irina Georgievna. “Family meant all together, always.”
“Times change,” Anya said softly. “But one thing stays the same—we all love Slavik and want him to be happy.”
When Slavik returned from the store, he found a strange sight: his mother and wife sitting quietly at the kitchen table talking. Not arguing, not blaming, but simply talking.
Of course, that conversation didn’t solve all problems. Irina Georgievna didn’t change overnight, didn’t stop interfering in their life. She still thought her daughter-in-law demanded too much and that her son wasn’t attentive enough to her. But something important had changed.
Six months after that ill-fated anniversary, Anya was standing by the stove preparing dinner when she heard the front door slam.
“I’m home!” Slavik shouted from the hallway.
“How did it go with Mom?” Anya asked as her husband entered the kitchen.
“Not bad,” he kissed her cheek. “Helped her with the computer, fixed the faucet. She sends you greetings.”
“Really?” Anya was surprised.
“Well, not exactly greetings,” Slavik smirked. “She said: ‘I hope your Anya hasn’t forgotten I love cabbage pies.’ But for her, that’s progress.”
They laughed. Their relationship with Irina Georgievna was still far from perfect, but gradually it became healthier. Slavik learned to say “no” to his mother when necessary. Learned to value time with his wife and protect their family space. And Irina Georgievna, though reluctantly, began to accept the new rules.
“By the way, I was thinking about our sixth anniversary,” Slavik said hugging Anya. “Maybe we could go somewhere for the weekend? Just you and me.”
“What about your mother?” Anya couldn’t resist asking.
“She’ll survive two days without me,” Slavik answered confidently. “After all, she has a new TV, computer, and friends. And I have a wife I want to spend our anniversary with.”
Anya turned to her husband and hugged him tightly. She didn’t know what the future held, how many more difficult situations with Irina Georgievna would arise. But now, in this moment, she was happy. Happy because she finally felt their marriage had become a true family, where feelings and needs are respected.
And Irina Georgievna… well, she would remain Irina Georgievna. Authoritative, used to commanding, thinking she knows what’s best for her son. She would never become the perfect mother-in-law, never acknowledge Anya as her equal. But maybe she would learn to respect their marriage and their right to their own life. And that was enough for Anya.
