Marina’s chest tightened, and her palms became sweaty when Kostya announced:
— Today we’re going to my mom’s. We’ll tell her about the wedding.
She hesitated for a long time, choosing her outfit. It sounds silly, but it’s true. She tried on, it seems, everything. The blue dress was too formal. Jeans were too casual. The long-sleeved blouse made it seem like she was going to a job interview. The other one looked like she hadn’t prepared at all.
In the end, she settled on a modest skirt and sweater. A neutral look to emphasize: I’m a respectable girl, but without the excess pomp.
Funny, right?
They arrived at his mother’s in an old neighborhood with brick houses, where the hallways smelled like cats. They climbed to the fifth floor. No elevator.
Her name was Larisa Alekseevna. She greeted them in an expensive robe, with rings on her fingers and perfectly styled hair, as if she had just walked out of a salon. Her gaze was one of someone who knew you’d already made a mistake, but hadn’t decided yet which one.
Kostya immediately blurted out, without preamble:
— Mom, we’ve decided to get married.
The room fell silent. Then Larisa Alekseevna looked at them. First at her son. Then at Marina. And that look made everything inside Marina tighten.
— Are you out of your mind? — Larisa Alekseevna hissed. — She’s not good enough for you. She’s from a poor family. Even speaks… wrong.
Marina froze, as if she had been doused with cold water.
Kostya put his arm around her shoulders.
— Mom, enough. I love Marina. We’re getting married, whether you like it or not.
Larisa Alekseevna laughed theatrically, like an actress playing the villain. Loud, exaggerated laughter.
— Love her? So what? Love her, by all means. But marry her? — She gave Marina a look as if she were an insect. — Do you even know who her parents are? Her father is a locksmith, her mother is a janitor. That’s rock bottom!
For the first time during the whole conversation, Marina spoke up. Quietly:
— My mom is a vice-principal.
And she was surprised: why did she say that? What difference does it make? Not a janitor, but a vice-principal. Does that change anything?
— Doesn’t matter! — Larisa Alekseevna waved it off. — Kostya needs another wife. From our circle. Educated. With manners. With prospects! And what’s this? — She pointed at Marina again, as if she were an object. — A nurse! A nurse with a salary of thirty thousand! A pauper!
They left. They just silently left the apartment. They walked for a long time. Silently. At home, Marina said:
— If your mom thinks I’m disgracing your family, maybe we really shouldn’t get married?
Kostya squeezed her hands tightly, as if afraid she would disappear.
— Marina, what are you saying? We’re getting married. We will. Mom is old-fashioned. She’ll get used to it.
And Marina looked out the window and thought, “What will she get used to? That her son married a pauper?”
That word stuck with her. It seemed like a silly word — “pauper.” Even childish. Yet, for some reason, it hurt like an adult pain.
At home, she opened the wardrobe. She looked at her clothes. Ordinary, non-branded, bought at mass-market stores. And she wondered, “Can it really be seen from my clothes that I’m not like them?”
Later, Marina called her friend Svetka. She rushed over with a bottle of wine and chocolate, with her trademark line: “To hell with her, your future mother-in-law!”
They settled in the kitchen. Marina cried. Then the tears stopped. She quietly said: — What if I really don’t match Kostya?
Svetka nearly dropped her glass:
— Are you crazy? You’re smart, beautiful, you love Kostya with all your heart. And she’s just jealous. All mothers are like that. No daughter-in-law is ever good enough for them. Is your salary written on your forehead? It’s not shameful to be modest. It’s shameful to be arrogant!
Later, Marina went to her mom’s — the woman who had worked at the same place for thirty years and knew the value of life.
Antonina Vasilievna did what she did best: she hugged her daughter as tightly as she could and said:
— The most important thing is that you’re happy. Everything else — the rings, flowers, dresses — that’s secondary.
Marina felt like crying and laughing at the same time. She suddenly realized: Kostya’s mother dreams of a fancy ring for her son. And her own mother — dreams of her daughter’s happiness.
Such different mothers.
Later, it became known that Larisa Alekseevna was calling relatives, saying, “There won’t be a wedding.” She begged them not to “embarrass” her and not to come. And Kostya, always so calm and restrained, suddenly exploded. He threw a cup against the wall and said:
— I’ll invite everyone myself! I don’t care about her bans!
They debated for a long time. Should they cancel the wedding? Postpone it? Organize a small ceremony only for the closest ones?
Marina looked at Kostya and suggested:
— You know what? Let’s have a simple, but real wedding. Only with those who are truly happy for us. No show. I’m not a princess to expect a pumpkin carriage.
Kostya smiled. Then kissed her, as if she had said the most important words in the world.
On the wedding day, Marina woke up early. The alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but she had already opened her eyes and realized: today is the day.
I wonder, has Larisa Alekseevna already gotten up? Is she thinking about the fact that her son is getting married?
She didn’t come. Didn’t even call. Kostya waited, Marina saw. He kept checking his phone. Smiling a little stiffly. And even seemed to hunch a little.
Marina stood in front of the mirror, looking at her dress. A simple white dress with no lace or rhinestones. Her mom helped her sew it. Almost for free — a friend who’s a good seamstress, and fabric that’s decent but inexpensive. Marina ran her hand over the skirt and thought, “I wonder, if the dress had cost a hundred thousand, would Larisa Alekseevna have come?”
They arrived at the registry office in a regular taxi. No limousines or processions. They just came.
They were already waiting. Svetka — with a huge bouquet (she spent all the savings meant for a vacation). Mom — in a new suit with a hairstyle. Dad — in his one suit, the one he wore for all important events. Kostya’s colleagues, friends. About fifteen people. And all of them had the sincere smiles of those who are genuinely happy for you.
Marina suddenly realized that she wasn’t thinking about Larisa Alekseevna anymore. Not at all. As if it had been cut off.
The ceremony was short. Standard. Like everyone else: “Do you agree…,” “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” rings, a kiss, applause.
Then there was a small restaurant. Cozy, with wooden tables and live flowers in vases. No ice sculptures or show programs. Just delicious food, quiet music, and close people nearby.
Kostya took the microphone and gave a toast:
— I want to thank everyone who came to share our celebration today. Who is genuinely happy for us. — He paused and looked at the door, as if hoping it would open. — And most importantly: I’m proud to be with the woman I chose with my heart. Marina doesn’t have rich parents, an expensive car, or an apartment in the center. But she has what can’t be bought with any money: a pure heart, a clear head, and amazing patience, since she agreed to be with me for the rest of her life!
Everyone laughed. And Marina looked at Kostya and thought: “This is happiness. In a simple dress, but next to a special person.”
Later, when everyone was dancing, one of the guests suddenly said:
— Look, she came after all!
Marina turned around. In the doorway stood Larisa Alekseevna. In a hat, an expensive suit, with a brooch on the lapel. A beautiful woman. A little embarrassed.
Kostya rushed to her, hugged her, and began speaking. Marina watched this scene and suddenly realized: she didn’t have to please this woman. And, in fact, she didn’t owe anyone anything.
When Kostya brought his mother over to her, Marina simply extended her hand. Without anger, without offense, without any attempt at revenge. Just extended it.
— Hello, Larisa Alekseevna. I’m glad you came after all.
In her eyes, there was a flash of confusion and embarrassment.
At that moment, Marina clearly understood: she was stronger than she thought. And richer than anyone could imagine.
Weeks went by. Marina and Kostya lived a simple life: work, home dinners, TV shows. A regular, but good life.
One day, Larisa Alekseevna called.
— How are you? — she asked her son.
— Everything’s fine, mom.
— Maybe you’ll stop by this weekend?
Marina, hearing the conversation, looked at her husband questioningly: should they go or not?
They decided to go. On Sunday. With a cake — Marina insisted on not showing up empty-handed. And they ended up in that very kitchen, where Larisa Alekseevna had once declared: “She’s not good enough for you.”
They talked about the weather, work, little things. But then Larisa Alekseevna suddenly said:
— I’m sorry I didn’t come to the wedding. I thought at the time… — and fell silent.
Marina looked at her and suddenly saw an ordinary woman. No longer young. Alone. For whom her son was her whole world.
— You see, — Larisa Alekseevna continued with a slight challenging tone, — I wanted the best. I thought he needed a girl from a well-off family. So he wouldn’t carry everything on his shoulders. So he would have support.
Marina looked at her mother-in-law thoughtfully. Inside, it became quiet, as if all the puzzle pieces had clicked into place.
— I won’t prove my right to be part of your family, — she replied calmly. — But no one will belittle me again — not even you. By the way, I’ve applied to the psychology department. Part-time. I’ll study after work.
Larisa Alekseevna raised her eyebrows in surprise:
— And how long will you study?
— Five years.
— That’s a long time.
— It doesn’t matter. The main thing is to start.
An hour later, they were sitting on a park bench — Marina and Kostya. He looked at her and smiled. Then, unexpectedly, he kissed her on the cheek.
— What are you thinking about? — Marina asked.
— That you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.
Marina smiled. Calmly. She felt good. She knew for sure: happiness doesn’t depend on other people’s opinions. It doesn’t depend on anything. It just exists.
