This was supposed to be the happiest day of all — our crystal wedding anniversary, the perfect celebration I’d been preparing for months. But it turned into my own personal hell when my husband pulled me aside and demanded I give his mother my most precious gift. “Mom needs it more,” he said, staring at the floor. The humiliation burned me like red-hot iron. But I didn’t cry. I pulled myself together, went back out to the guests and put on such a performance that my mother-in-law fled the party, leaving behind both her handbag and her pride. And for the first time, my husband realized he might lose me forever.
“Stasik, darling, are we sure we really came to your new cottage community and not to an off-site banquet for the Pushkin restaurant?”
Tamara Igorevna’s voice — my mother-in-law’s — was so saturated with sugar that Alina’s teeth ached for a second. She was standing by the brand-new barbecue area, turning over fragrant marble-beef steaks, doing her best to keep a warm, welcoming smile on her face. Today was her and Stas’s fifth wedding anniversary. Crystal. And Alina wanted this day to be perfect.
They were celebrating on the lot by their future home under construction in an upscale cottage community — a place that had already become a source of pride for Alina and an endless source of irritation for her mother-in-law. Alina had spent three months preparing: she had designed and laid out the flower beds on their new piece of land herself, turning a bare patch of earth into something like an English garden. All day yesterday she had marinated the meat according to a famous chef’s recipe, baked a three-tier mousse cake with mirror glaze, and spent half the night making elaborate appetizers to please every guest. The table under a young apple tree was groaning with food, the sun sparkled in the crystal glasses, and a light breeze carried the scent of roses and jasmine.
“Mom, well, you as always — armed with a compliment,” Stas tried to joke, awkwardly straightening the collar of his new shirt. He saw how his wife tensed and hurried to hug her. “Alina’s a real magician. She did everything herself, can you believe it?”
Tamara Igorevna ran a critical eye over the table, letting it linger on the bowls of black caviar.
“Herself? Imagine that. And I thought you’d hired catering. Very similar. Well, good for you, girl, you tried. For a picnic on a construction site — it’s just gorgeous.”
She said it in the tone of someone praising a child for a crooked snowman. Then she swept over to the table, adjusting her evening dress of heavy silk, which looked completely alien against the backdrop of the unfinished house and scaffolding. She had arrived almost last, when all the guests were already there, to make sure her appearance did not go unnoticed.
Alina took a deep breath, trying to ignore the poisonous jab. Not today. She would not let her ruin this day. Soon her father arrived, an elderly but still fit retired engineer. He hugged his daughter so tightly that her bones cracked.
“Sweetheart, happy anniversary to you two! Five years — that’s already something! I want you to know how proud I am of you and your family.”
He coughed shyly and held out a velvet box. “This is for you. Don’t be shy, open it.”
Alina opened the lid curiously — and gasped. Inside, on a silk cushion, lay an elegant Swiss wristwatch in vintage style, with a thin leather strap and a mother-of-pearl dial.
“Dad! They… they’re insanely expensive! From where?” she whispered, unable to believe her eyes.
“I put a little aside, kept a bit from my bonus. I’ve long wanted to give you something worthwhile, something to remember me by. You’re my only one,” he said, embarrassed. “Wear them in good health.”
Deeply moved, Alina put the watch on. It fit her slender wrist perfectly, glinting in the rays of the setting sun. The guests murmured in admiration, and Stas kissed his wife proudly.
“Dad, thank you! This is the best gift!” Alina exclaimed.
She raised her eyes and met her mother-in-law’s gaze. But Tamara Igorevna wasn’t looking at her daughter-in-law. All her predatory, appraising interest was fixed on the little shining object on Alina’s wrist. In her eyes there was such undisguised, ravenous envy that Alina felt uneasy for a moment.
The conflict with Tamara Igorevna had been smoldering for a long time, but it had flared in full force six months earlier. That was when Alina and Stas had put all their savings into buying a plot outside the city and, what became the final straw, taken out a huge consumer loan to start building a house. It was their shared, hard-won dream — to escape the noisy, dusty city, raise future children in the fresh air, and have a garden of their own. But for her mother-in-law, this dream became a personal insult.
“Have you decided to send me to my grave?! Building a house?!” she had screamed into the phone at Stas, not choosing her words. “That’s a bottomless pit! A black hole that’ll suck out all your money and all your strength! Do you even understand what you’re getting into? Prices for materials go up every day, the workers will cheat you, construction will drag on for ten years! And for what? To live in the mud, far from civilization?”
Stas tried to say something about ecology, about the future, about how it was a good investment, but his mother wouldn’t listen. She was worried about something else.
“And most importantly — you’ll leave me here! Alone!” she lowered her voice to a tragic whisper. “I raised you by myself, didn’t sleep at night, and now you decided to run away from me to the country, under your Alina’s skirt! Instead of helping your mother, buying me a spa trip, you’re going to bury millions in that dirt!”
Since then, any conversation eventually circled back to this. The purchase of the plot and the start of construction she had taken as a betrayal and was maliciously waiting for their “adventure” to fail. So today, seeing the laden table and happy guests against the backdrop of the unfinished but already beloved house, she simply couldn’t resist making venomous comments. For her, this wasn’t a celebration, but just another opportunity to prove to her son what a fatal mistake he had made.
Having made the rounds of all the guests, Tamara Igorevna once again approached the table and, with an expert air, took a tiny piece of duck liver pâté on her fork…
“Well now… a bit dry,” she pronounced her verdict after barely tasting it. “Alina, dear, where did you get the recipe? On the internet? There’s so much written there now, you can’t trust it. I have a tried-and-true recipe, from my grandmother. You need cognac and truffle oil, then the texture will be silky. I’ll dictate it to you later.”
“Thank you, Tamara Igorevna, I’ll keep that in mind,” Alina ground out through clenched teeth. Her friend Ira, sitting next to her, squeezed her hand sympathetically under the table.
But the mother-in-law was unstoppable. She went through every dish. The tartlets with caviar were “banal,” the salad with shrimp and avocado “bland,” and the steaks over which Alina had labored for an hour and a half to get the perfect doneness were “rubbery.”
“Stasik, son, you have a weak stomach,” she clucked, pushing away his plate with meat. “Don’t eat that, you’ll get heartburn. Here, better take a pickle. It’s not bitter, I hope?”
Stas smiled awkwardly and tried to turn everything into a joke, but it didn’t work. The guests felt the tension and tried to talk about neutral topics, but Tamara Igorevna, like the conductor of a bad orchestra, kept pulling all the attention back to herself and her “expert” opinions.
By the time they got to the cake, Alina was on the edge. She brought out her creation, covered with glossy chocolate glaze and decorated with fresh berries, to the applause of the guests.
“Wow! Alinka, you’re a born pastry chef!” Ira exclaimed.
“It looks amazing!” her father chimed in.
Tamara Igorevna cut herself a microscopic piece, brought it to her nose, sniffed, and put the fork down.
“Too much gelatin,” she declared categorically. “A mousse should be airy, and this one is standing like a brick. And the sponge, I can feel it’s dry. No, I’m not going to eat this. Thanks, I watch my figure.”
In the silence that followed, Alina felt a hot lump rise to her throat. She had poured so much effort, so much of her soul into this celebration, and this woman was methodically and sadistically destroying everything that was dear to her. She looked at her husband, searching for support, but Stas only guiltily lowered his eyes and took a big gulp of champagne. At that moment Alina realized she was alone in this battle. She pulled herself together, put her smile back on and said loudly:
“Well then, Tamara Igorevna, that’s a pity! More for us, though! Friends, who wants seconds?”
The guests, relieved, started talking again and helped themselves to the cake. The mother-in-law, realizing her jab had failed, pressed her lips together and once again fixed her gaze on the watch sparkling on her daughter-in-law’s wrist. A new, much more devious plan was already forming in her head.
When the main part of the feast was over and the guests scattered around the property — some went to try out the new garden swing, some played badminton — Tamara Igorevna marched decisively up to her son.
“Stanislav, a word,” she said imperiously and, without waiting for an answer, pulled him into the house. They went into the cool living room, and she shut the door firmly behind them.
“Mom, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Stas asked anxiously.
“What’s wrong is what I’m seeing!” hissed Tamara Igorevna, abruptly switching from commanding to tragic. “Son, are you blind? Do you not understand what’s happening?”
“What’s happening? We’re celebrating our anniversary, everyone’s having fun…”
“Everyone’s having fun, and your mother is sitting here like she’s been spat on! Your wife… she did all this on purpose! This whole show with the caviar, these fancy foreign dishes! She wanted to humiliate me, to show what a perfect homemaker she is, and I, apparently, am just an extra! And that gift? Did you see that watch? That’s a fortune! Is her father a millionaire now? No! He just wants to show he spares nothing for his daughter, while my son — that is, you — can’t provide for his wife at that level! It’s a slap in the face to our whole family!”
Stas stared at his mother in shock. Her face was twisted with hurt and anger; she was clutching her hand to her heart theatrically.
“Mom, what are you talking about? Alina’s dad just gave her a heartfelt gift. What do I have to do with it?”
“What do you have to do with it? It’s humiliating, that’s what!” her voice trembled. “And where is she going to wear them? In her vegetable patch with a hoe in her hands? Things like that need the spotlight, they need status! That’s not just a watch, it’s jewelry! It’s like wearing a sable fur coat in a cowshed! Sacrilege!”
She paused, letting her words sink into her son’s mind, then stepped right up to him and looked into his eyes pleadingly.
“Stasik, my baby… You know my big birthday is coming up. Sixty. I’ve spent my whole life on you, raised you alone, denied myself everything… And now… I just want to feel like a queen once in my life. That watch… it would go so perfectly with my new suit… and with my eyes…”
“Mom, are you suggesting I… ask Alina to give you her watch? That her father gave her?” Stas muttered in disbelief.
“I’m your mother!” Tamara Igorvna exclaimed. “Who is more important to you? Wives come and go, but a mother is for life! And besides, it’s not just for nothing. On your grandfather’s side, there was a tradition in our family. On big family holidays, the younger ones must show respect to the elders by giving them valuable gifts. As a sign of reverence. To show they honor their roots. You tell her it’s our ancient family tradition. That it’s improper to let an older relative, the head of the family, leave a celebration empty-handed. She’s such a ‘proper’ one, respects traditions, doesn’t she? Let her show some respect to her husband’s mother. And later I’ll… buy her something in return. Some little brooch or whatever.”
Stas was silent, digesting this. He understood the absurdity and insanity of the situation perfectly. He knew there had never been any such tradition in their family. But he looked at his mother’s tear-streaked, pleading face, at her trembling hands, and felt the familiar sense of guilt and obligation tightening around him. Since childhood, he’d never been able to refuse her. She knew all too well how to press his sore spots, making him feel eternally indebted.
“Well, son… please…” she whispered. “You’re my only protector. It means so much to me…”
“All right,” he sighed, feeling like the worst traitor. “All right, Mom. I’ll talk to her. I’ll think of something.”
“That’s my good boy,” she beamed instantly, wiping away her tears. “I knew I could count on you. Go, talk to her. And don’t drag it out.”
Stas walked out of the house as if in a fog. The sun was already setting, painting the sky in pink and orange. The guests were laughing, the music played softly, and this whole celebration, which just an hour ago had seemed so wonderful, now made him feel sick. He found Alina by the rose bed. She was cutting a few flowers for a bouquet she wanted to give her elderly aunt when she left. Alina looked serene and happy. That made Stas feel even worse.
“Alin,” he called, trying to sound unnaturally cheerful. “Let’s go to the greenhouse for a minute, I want to show you something.”
“Something urgent?” she asked in surprise. “I just need to finish this bouquet for Aunt Valya…”
“Yes, urgent. It’ll just take a second,” he insisted, taking her hand.
His palm was cold and clammy. Alina sensed something was wrong, but obediently followed him. They went into their new greenhouse, smelling of fresh wood and soil, where the first tomatoes were ripening. It was the pride of Alina’s soul, her little paradise.
“What’s going on, Stas? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, looking closely into his eyes.
He shifted from foot to foot, unsure where to start.
“Alin, it’s… a delicate matter… So, Mom is leaving soon…”
“Well, finally,” Alina couldn’t hold back. “Good riddance. Should I wrap up some of that ‘bland’ salad for her?”
“Alin, don’t be sarcastic, please,” Stas winced. “This is serious. You see… we have this old family tradition… Very old. Since my great-grandfather’s time.”
He spoke and could hear how fake his own voice sounded.
“What tradition?” Alina asked warily. “In five years, somehow I never heard about it.”
“Well, it’s… not for everyone. Anyway, the point is… it’s not good when the oldest and most respected member of the family — in this case, my mom — leaves a big celebration without a gift. It’s a sign of disrespect.”
Alina stared at him silently, and the warmth that had been in her eyes just moments before turned to ice.
“A gift?” she said. “Your mom, who showed up empty-handed, trashed all of my food and all of my work, is supposed to leave our celebration with a gift? Are you serious?”
Stas felt the ground slipping from under his feet and decided to go all in. He blurted it out in one breath:
“Yes! And… well, Mom said… she really liked your watch. The one Dad gave you. She says they match her eye color. So… Alin… give her your watch.”
He fell silent, not daring to look at her. The greenhouse was so quiet you could hear a bumblebee buzzing behind the glass. Alina didn’t shout. She didn’t cry. She just looked at her husband, and there was so much contempt and disappointment in her eyes that he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
“Say that again,” she said quietly, almost in a whisper — and that whisper sent a chill down Stas’s spine. “Repeat what you just said.”
“Well… give Mom the watch…” he mumbled. “She needs them more, she’s a woman of status, she’ll get to show them off. And what do you need them for at the dacha? You’re always in the dirt anyway…”
In that moment something inside Alina snapped. The very last drop that had been holding up the dam of her patience. But instead of a hysterical outburst came a cold, ringing fury. Suddenly she understood everything: the fake tears of her mother-in-law, the ridiculous “tradition,” and her husband’s pathetic cowardice. She looked at the man she loved and saw nothing but a mama’s boy, a spineless creature ready to sell her out at his mother’s first finger snap. And she decided. Enough. She’d had enough.
“All right,” she said unexpectedly calmly. “You’re right. Traditions must be honored. Let’s go to the guests.”
Alina walked out of the greenhouse a completely different person. The soft, smiling hostess of the evening was gone; in her place was a lady with a straight back and steel in her eyes. Stas trailed behind her, bewildered. He had been expecting a scene, tears, anything — but not this icy, terrifying composure.
She walked straight to the center of the lawn, where her mother-in-law was sitting at the table surrounded by a few remaining guests, and clapped her hands loudly to get everyone’s attention.
“A moment of your attention, dear guests!” Her voice rang like a tight string. “We’ve just experienced a little family miracle, and I simply must share this joy with you!”
Tamara Igorevna looked up at her in surprise. Stas froze behind his wife, sensing catastrophe.
“Tamara Igorevna! My dear!” Alina walked up to her and took her hands. The older woman tried to pull them away in distaste, but Alina held on firmly. “Stas has just told me about your incredible surprise! I have to admit, I didn’t even know about such a wonderful, such an aristocratic tradition in your family! I’m moved to tears, honestly!”
“What surprise? What tradition?” the stunned mother-in-law stammered.
“How can you ask!” Alina exclaimed, and a note of rapt theatricality crept into her voice. “Passing down the family jewels to the son and daughter-in-law on their crystal wedding anniversary! As a sign of the full and final acceptance of the daughter-in-law into the family! It’s so… so genuine! So noble!”
Alina released her hands and took a step back, folding her palms over her chest in a dramatic gesture. Her eyes were fixed on the antique brooch with a large amethyst that adorned her mother-in-law’s dress.
“I’ve always, from the very first day we met, admired your family brooch, Tamara Igorevna!” she went on, not allowing anyone to get a word in. “That very brooch that you inherited from your grandmother, and she from hers. It’s not just jewelry, it’s the story of your lineage! And the fact that you decided to pass this heirloom on to me, your daughter-in-law, today, on our fifth anniversary… that’s the greatest honor for me!”
She fell silent and held out her hands like a bowl, right at the chest of the petrified woman.
“Thank you… Mom!”
The last word she didn’t just say — she practically sang it, calling this woman “Mom” for the first time in her life. There was so much venom and sweet revenge in that one “Mom” that Tamara Igorevna flinched as if she’d been struck.
A dead silence fell over the lawn. The guests, mouths hanging open, shifted their gaze from Alina to her mother-in-law. And Tamara Igorevna sat there white as a sheet, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a fish dragged onto the shore. She looked at her son, and in her eyes was nothing but a promise of terrible retribution.
**
Stas felt with his gut that he was standing at the epicenter of a hurricane he had summoned himself. He rushed to his wife, grabbing her hand like a drowning man clutching at a straw.
“Alina! Honey, you… you must have misunderstood me! That’s not what I meant at all!” he babbled, blotching red. “I was talking about something else… about a gift… from us…”
Alina slowly lowered her hands and raised her eyes to him, full of masterfully played hurt and pain.
“How… misunderstood?” she whispered just loudly enough for everyone to hear. “So… there won’t be any gift? Or the brooch?”
She buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders began to shake in silent sobs.
“My God, what a shame… what a disgrace…” came muffled through her fingers. “And I, fool that I am, thought… Since I’m supposed to give your mother my new watch, my father’s gift… then she would give me something in return… You yourself said ‘tradition’… Oh, I got it all wrong… I’m so stupid…”
That was it. The scene was played. Perfectly. Everything clicked into place. An angry murmur swept through the guests. All eyes — disapproving, contemptuous, bewildered — turned to Tamara Igorevna and her son. Aunt Valya gasped loudly and crossed herself. Alina’s father slowly rose from the table, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
The mother-in-law realized she was trapped. In what her grandmother used to call a “cabalistic snare.” She had been publicly humiliated and made out to be a petty, greedy schemer.
“Dear…” she finally squeezed out in a barely audible voice, her face burning. “Stasik must have mixed something up too… I… I only praised your little watch… Said I’d like to buy myself the same ones someday… I never meant to ask you to give them to me… This is all… it’s just a misunderstanding… a mix-up…”
She jumped up so abruptly that she knocked over her half-full champagne glass.
“And anyway… I was just about to go home… I’ve got a headache. So I’ll be going… And you, Alina, don’t be upset.”
She gave her son a panicked look, then an angry one at her in-law, and without another word almost ran to the gate. In her rush she left both her handbag and her expensive cashmere wrap on the chair. A minute later the screech of a departing taxi’s tires could be heard.
The party was hopelessly ruined. The guests, muttering awkward congratulations, quickly started to leave. Alina’s father came up to his daughter, hugged her, and, as he left, cast such a look at Stas that the latter shrank. When the gate closed behind the last guest, only the two of them were left on the lot, in a deafening silence, surrounded by the debris of a failed celebration.
Alina silently cleared the dirty dishes from the table. Her movements were sharp and precise. Stas stood nearby, not knowing what to say.
“Alin… I’m sorry…” he finally managed.
She stopped and slowly turned to him. There were no more tears or hurt in her eyes. Only cold, distant steel.
“This. Was. The. Last. Time,” she said, enunciating every word and jabbing her finger into his chest. “One more stunt like this from your mommy — with your help — and you’ll go comfort her in the status of my ex-husband. With one suitcase. To that very apartment with the unfinished renovation.”
“Alin, come on, what are you talking about? What divorce? I just…”
“You’re just a doormat!” she cut him off, her voice breaking into a shout. “A spineless mama’s boy! She whispered in your ear and you were only too happy to run and obey, betraying your own wife on our anniversary! Do you even understand what you did today? You humiliated me! You humiliated my father! You tried to take my father’s gift away from me!”
She took a step back, catching her breath.
“Don’t disappoint me again, Stas. Don’t push me into sin. I’m already at my limit. I’ve had it up to here with your mother,” she ran the edge of her hand across her throat. “I love you, but I love myself and my dignity more. If you can’t be a solid wall for me, then at least don’t be a stone around my neck. Do you understand me?”
He backed away, stunned by her rage and icy firmness. He had never seen her like this. He muttered something in response and turned toward the terrace. He was sick to death that his wife was talking to him like he was a misbehaving schoolboy, even threatening him with divorce. And it was all Mom’s fault! A big “thank you” to her! She knew he couldn’t say no to her and took advantage of it without a shred of conscience.
Overwhelmed by emotion, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw twenty missed calls from his mother. At that very second, it rang again. He hit the accept button.
“Stanislav, what the hell was that?!” his mother screeched into the receiver. “What kind of circus did your shrew put on? Why, I’ll show her!.. She definitely owes me that watch now! As compensation for moral damage!”
And then something that had never happened before finally happened. Stas, who had never dared even raise his voice at his mother, exploded. He yelled so loudly that a dog barked nervously on the neighboring lot.
“SHE DOESN’T OWE YOU ANYTHING! WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO CALM DOWN, MOM?! YOU’RE NEVER SATISFIED! Stop sticking your nose into our life! Stop trying to control everything! Today you almost destroyed my family with your greed and stupid manipulations! I almost lost my wife because of you! And I, for your information, love her! Know this: one more time you become the cause of a fight between us, and I’ll forget I even have a mother! Got that?!”
Without waiting for an answer, he slammed his thumb on “end call.” His mother immediately started calling back, but he rejected the call and blocked her number. Breathing heavily, he returned to the house. Alina was standing by the window. She had heard everything.
“The terrace door was open,” she said quietly.
He walked over to her in silence. She studied him for a long moment, then suddenly hugged him. Tightly, like back then at the altar, five years ago. He buried his face in her hair, smelling of roses and smoke, and for the first time in many years he felt like a man, not just a son. He realized that their marriage — their crystal, so fragile anniversary — had, after all, gotten a chance at a long life
