So what’s the problem? Of course we took it. I don’t feel like cooking today, and we’re going to spend the whole rest of the day at home and aren’t planning to go anywhere. So it will all come in handy. You don’t need it anymore anyway, the celebration is over.”
Anya and Kostya had just moved into their new apartment. The cheapest linoleum creaked under their feet, laid any old way. A basic “social” renovation — that was all they could afford for now. But it was theirs. Their very first home, even if it had cheap wallpaper.
New Year’s was coming, and Anya happily imagined how she and Kostya would see it in together, just the two of them, sitting in the kitchen of their new place. But her mother-in-law, Svetlana Petrovna, had other plans. Her phone call sounded like a sentence.
“Kostya, your father, Masha and I will be celebrating New Year’s at your place. In your new apartment. It’s high time you had a housewarming! But you two are impossible to pin down!”
Money was tight. They had just managed to buy the basic appliances — a fridge, washing machine and stove, without which it was impossible to live. And on top of the utilities, they now had to make monthly loan payments.
The mother-in-law knew all this perfectly well, but it didn’t bother her in the least. Anya, trying to be a good daughter-in-law, agreed, but a feeling of anxiety was growing inside her. The in-laws immediately made one thing clear:
“Whoever does the inviting is the one who does the treating, that’s the tradition.”
So all the preparations fell on Anya’s shoulders. In the evenings she and Kostya would sit and plan the menu, carefully calculating every expense.
“Listen, I understand we should put together a nice spread… But we really don’t have much money. Let’s stick to the basic salads?” Anya suggested.
“I love herring under a fur coat,” Kostya nodded. “But my mom…”
“Doesn’t eat fish?” Anya asked timidly.
“That’s not it. She’ll just think we’re being stingy.”
“Well, we couldn’t have known that two weeks before the holiday they’d suddenly announce they’d be celebrating at our place. If we’d known, we wouldn’t have bought the washing machine just yet. And now, I don’t even know what to do.”
“Okay, tell me what you’ve come up with.”
And Anya told him which dishes she’d chosen so that they would still manage to have a first course, a main course, and even compote within their modest budget.
Kostya sighed heavily and reached for his phone. He spent a long time calculating something and then said:
“Anya, I’m sorry… I don’t have any money left for a present for you this year…”
She looked at him — tired, but so dear — and smiled through the tears that had welled up.
“It’s alright. We’ve already given ourselves the biggest present in the world. This apartment…”
On the evening of December 30th, Anya was washing potatoes and carrots for the salads with a heavy heart. This wasn’t the kind of holiday she had imagined in their new place — not counting every ruble and not hosting people out of obligation. Suddenly there was noise in the hallway, the key grated in the lock, and Kostya literally burst into the apartment. His hair was disheveled, his clothes rumpled, and his face glowing with happiness.
“Anya!” he shouted, wrapping his wife in an embrace. “You won’t believe it!”
Catching his breath, he told her that their boss, usually stingy with both praise and bonuses, had been over the moon that day — his grandchild had just been born. In a burst of general joy he decided to give the entire department an unscheduled, and far from symbolic, bonus.
Anya listened with wide eyes, unable to believe their luck. The tears that a minute ago had been ready to spill out of hurt now flowed from relief and joy.
“So that means…” she whispered.
“That means we’re running to the store!” Kostya finished for her. “Right now!”
Their evening turned into a celebration. They bought a small jar of red caviar, good champagne, and plenty more for the table. The holiday that had seemed dreary and like a joyless obligation that very morning suddenly lit up with bright colors.
December 31st arrived. Humming a New Year’s tune, Anya bustled around the kitchen, filling the apartment with the aromas of festive dishes. Kostya set up the small but fluffy tree they had bought the day before, and together they decorated it with old childhood ornaments and one new string of warm lights. It was their magical, intimate time — a time of hopes and shared plans.
That magical time ended exactly at ten in the evening with the first ring of the doorbell. The in-laws were at the door. Without taking off her coat, Svetlana Petrovna walked through the apartment with an appraising look and sniffed disdainfully:
“What a tiny little place you have. And I see you haven’t done any real renovation. Linoleum, wallpaper… ugh… this is all very sad.”
“Mom, everything in its own time,” Kostya tried to reply, but his mother wasn’t listening, already making herself comfortable at the table in the living room.
The only thing they had brought was a bottle of expensive cognac — solely for Vladimir Ivanovich. No salad, no dessert, nothing. Not even any presents.
Meanwhile, Anya, despite all the difficulties, had prepared small but thoughtful gifts for them — warm socks for Vladimir Ivanovich, a nice planner for Svetlana Petrovna, and a fashionable pendant for Masha. All of it lay modestly under the tree.
Only sixteen-year-old Masha, blushing, handed Anya a small bundle.
“This is for you…” she mumbled. “Thank you for inviting us.”
Inside was a set of kitchen towels in soft blue shades. Anya had once mentioned that she loved that color. This gesture of sincere kindness was the only ray of light in that gloomy evening.
Svetlana Petrovna outshone everyone. She talked without stopping — about herself, her friends, how one should live, and how Anya and Kostya were living all wrong. She spoke so much and so loudly that everyone almost missed the clock striking midnight.
After midnight, Kostya, trying to lighten the mood, suggested:
“Why don’t we go outside and watch the fireworks? There’s a spot nearby with a great view of the city!”
“What? Go out in this weather?” Svetlana Petrovna protested. “No way! If you’re so eager, you go!”
In the end, everyone stayed at the table for hours: the in-laws ate, drank and talked. Anya, exhausted from cooking and a sleepless night before, began to nod off, her eyelids sticking together.
“Anya, what’s this idea of yours?” Svetlana Petrovna remarked sharply. “That’s rather rude… You invited guests and now you sit there yawning!”
“I’m not doing it on purpose, I’m just a bit tired. I worked a half-day today.”
“So what? It’s hard for everyone. You’re not the only one.”
By four in the morning the in-laws finally started getting ready to leave. Suddenly, Svetlana Petrovna offered to help her daughter-in-law take the leftover dishes to the kitchen.
“Sit, sit, Anya, you’re exhausted as it is, I’ll take everything myself!” she fussed. “Or you’ll just collapse completely,” she added with a smirk.
Touched by this sudden display of care, Anya nodded and stayed in the living room. Svetlana Petrovna flitted between the table and the kitchen with unusual speed. When they hurriedly scrambled to leave, Anya, seeing them out, suspected nothing.
The door closed. Anya and Kostya breathed out, finally left alone in their quiet, now empty apartment. With a deep feeling of relief, Anya went into the kitchen to tidy up — and froze.
On the table and countertop there were only empty plates and an almost full salad bowl of herring under a fur coat — the one dish that Svetlana Petrovna didn’t like. Everything else — the caviar, the cheese, the remaining meat, the cake — had vanished without a trace.
And then Anya remembered the large roomy bag her mother-in-law had been clutching to her side as she left. The presents under the tree still lay untouched. Seeing his wife’s face, Kostya came over and put his arm around her shoulders.
“Why are you standing there? Come on, let’s clean up.”
“Yeah…” Anya still couldn’t believe what was happening. “I think your mom took all the leftover food with her. I never expected that… I honestly never imagined something like that was possible.”
“Come on, wait. That can’t be.”
“Well, just look for yourself,” Anya stepped aside to let him reach the sink. “And I was even surprised that she suddenly decided to help me.”
“I’m going to call them right now. I don’t believe my mom would do that.”
Unable to trust his own eyes, Kostya grabbed his phone and immediately dialed his mother’s number. She picked up almost at once.
“Mom, did you take all the food with you?” he asked without preamble, trying to keep his voice calm.
“So what’s the problem?” came Svetlana Petrovna’s surprised, naively sounding voice, as if they were discussing the weather. “Of course we took it. I don’t feel like cooking today, and we’re going to spend the whole rest of the day at home and aren’t planning to go anywhere. So it will all come in handy. You don’t need it anymore anyway, the celebration is over.”
Then the line went dead, and all Kostya could do was stand there with his mouth open in shock. He heard the ringing in his ears. Slowly he lowered the phone and looked at Anya, who already understood everything just by his face.
“You were right,” he said quietly, and there was bitter disappointment in his voice. “They really did take everything… Well, never mind, we’ll earn more.”
He truly felt very sorry — both for the bonus he’d received and for his wife’s efforts, after she had spent two evenings in a row in the kitchen. He was upset not about the food, but about his parents’ brazenness and complete lack of respect.
They had spent almost the entire unexpected bonus, that gift of fate, to properly celebrate New Year’s and set a decent table. And now they were left with nothing, if you didn’t count the bowl of herring under a fur coat. What hurt the most was that his mother knew perfectly well how tight their finances were, knew about the mortgage, and still did this. It was a deliberate act.
Late in the evening on January 1st, when they had finally caught up on sleep and sat down to eat that same unwanted herring under a fur coat, the atmosphere in the apartment was completely different. It was still very painful, but Kostya didn’t show it and did everything he could to support his wife, joking:
“Did I ever tell you that herring under a fur coat is my favorite salad?”
“You did,” Anya answered with a smile.
Suddenly there was a quiet but insistent ring at the door. Kostya and Anya exchanged glances — neither of them was expecting anyone.
Masha was on the doorstep, huddled from the cold. In her hands she held a neat box of pastries.
“Can I come in?” she asked shyly.
Seeing her, Anya nodded and gestured for her to enter. They silently turned on the kettle, took out cups and invited Masha to sit at the table with them. Masha opened the box, revealing golden éclairs and tartlets topped with fresh raspberries.
“I… I was always so ashamed of Mom and her behavior,” Masha began quietly, not raising her eyes. “I saw her putting everything into the bag. I tried to stop her, but she never listens to me. So I… I wanted to make it up somehow…”
She spoke softly and sincerely, and her words fell on Anya’s wounded soul like a healing balm. And she did manage to ease the pain. The sadness and hurt that had been building up all day suddenly found an outlet. Anya couldn’t help herself — she hugged her sister-in-law and burst into tears. Not because Masha had brought pastries, but because of the unexpected warmth coming from this young girl.
In that gesture was the true spirit of New Year — the hope that even in the hardest situation there will be someone who reaches out a hand and warms you with their care.
“Thank you,” Anya breathed, wiping her tears. “You have no idea how important this is right now. And it’s not about the pastries at all…”
It was growing dark outside; in their small apartment it was warm, cozy, and smelled of pine.
Neither Svetlana Petrovna nor Vladimir Ivanovich thought it necessary to apologize for their low act. On the contrary, in the following weeks the mother kept calling Kostya and contemptuously asking when they would finally finish the renovation in their “hole,” since it was impossible, according to her, to live in such poverty. Kostya swallowed it all and silently endured the insults, trying to maintain at least some kind of relationship with his parents.
But everything has its limit. One day, no longer able to find new flaws in her son’s apartment, Svetlana Petrovna moved on to his wife personally.
“And your Anya is no better!” she said venomously. “She just sits on her husband’s neck, wants too much, and gives very little. Let her get up and earn more if she has such demands!”
Kostya exploded. The patience that had been building up for months snapped. After all, he and Anya earned almost the same amount, and everything went into their shared expenses and the mortgage. And now this — such arrogance and outright slander.
“Enough!” he shouted into the receiver, hardly recognizing his own voice. “Do you even hear what you’re saying? Anya works no less than I do! And you, instead of supporting us, only ever poison everything! Until you apologize to my wife for everything you’ve said and done, don’t call again!”
He hung up, and a deafening silence rang in his ears. His mother, deeply offended by her son’s “ingratitude,” stopped calling. And Kostya had no desire to be the first to reach out. Even Vladimir Ivanovich didn’t dare defy his wife’s orders and never called his son. He had never known how to think for himself; his wife had always made all the decisions for him.
Only Masha occasionally came over on weekends to see her brother, because she too had never been able to get along with their domineering mother. She warmed herself in their cozy, if modest, apartment, drank tea with Anya and confided in Kostya — that she wanted to move to another city to study there and how scared she was to go alone. Anya and Kostya supported her both morally and, as far as they could, financially, helping her get ready and leave for a new life.
When Svetlana Petrovna found out whose “light hand” had helped her daughter “run away” from under her control, she threw a genuine fit. In a rage she appeared at her son and daughter-in-law’s door, banging loudly and demanding explanations.
But no one opened to her. Anya looked through the peephole, saw her mother-in-law’s face distorted with fury, and calmly walked away. She knew exactly how such a meeting would end — with fresh insults and hysteria. She wanted nothing more to do with this toxic stranger, and Kostya fully supported her.
Five years later, life put everything in its place. Masha successfully graduated from university and stayed in the other city, where she found loyal friends and a loving boyfriend.
Anya and Kostya, having paid off their mortgage and finally done the renovation they’d dreamed of, visited her twice a year. Their little family was truly strong and happy.
