Don’t you dare close the door in my face, ungrateful one! Haven’t I earned at least a little respect?”
“Dear mother-in-law, spare me the list of your great deeds. Leonid and I have been together for two years, and your help has so far been limited to endless demands and complaints.”
The daughter-in-law stood in the doorway, holding the door to prevent the insistent guest from forcing her way into the apartment.
“You… you…” Zinaida Petrovna gasped with indignation. “Have you forgotten who helped Lyonechka with the down payment on this apartment? Who gave you money for the repairs?”
A smile touched Valentina’s lips.
“Excuse me, but you have an amazing ability to rewrite history. I gathered the down payment myself, and the ten thousand rubles you lent us for the repairs were long ago returned with interest, which you so persistently reminded us about.”
The mother-in-law’s small, close-set eyes narrowed.
“Ingratitude — that’s how you repay your mother! Where is my son? Let him come out and say to my face that he chose some… ” — she gave Valentina a pointed look from head to toe — “upstart instead of his own mother!”
Holding a pause, the daughter-in-law spoke with politeness as sharp as a surgical scalpel:
“Zinaida Petrovna, Leonid went out and won’t be back until evening. Now, excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”
The door closed softly but firmly right in the mother-in-law’s face. Behind it, muffled shouts were heard, then retreating footsteps and the sound of the elevator.
Leaning her back against the closed door, Valentina exhaled slowly. Fits of anger and irritation subsided, giving way to fatigue. She slowly walked into the bright kitchen, where an unfinished interior design project for a country house lay on the table. The work wasn’t waiting, but her thoughts stubbornly returned to the past, to the very beginning of their story with Leonid.
Two years ago. A cozy but modest café called “Paper Boat” on a quiet street in the historic center. Brick walls, wooden tables, loft-style lamps, and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans.
Valentina — a budding interior designer — was working on sketches for her first serious order. A latte, which she had nearly forgotten, was cooling nearby.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll replace it with a fresh one,” came a deep male voice.
Looking up, she saw a young barista with a sincere smile and slightly tired dark amber eyes.
“You have such an inspired expression on your face; it’s a pity to interrupt you, but you’ve been sitting with the same cold drink for three hours now.”
A smile touched her lips.
“Are you really watching me?”
“Professional observation,” he replied with a slight bow. “I’m Leonid, barista and manager of this humble place.”
“Valentina, designer and eternal victim of deadlines.”
That was the first of many conversations. A week later they exchanged phone numbers; a month later, they kissed for the first time under the falling leaves of the city garden; six months later, Leonid proposed.
Meeting Valentina’s parents went surprisingly smoothly. Anatoly Sergeevich and Marina Viktorovna — a history professor and a school literature teacher — welcomed Leonid warmly, almost with disbelief on his part.
After dinner, as they left her parents’ house and slowly walked down the quiet street, Leonid seemed thoughtful.
“Your parents are amazing,” he finally said. “So… genuine.”
“They’ve always been that way,” Valentina shrugged. “And what about yours? When will I meet them?”
A fleeting shadow passed over Leonid’s face.
“My parents are very busy people. Dad is a construction manager, mom runs a charity foundation. I’m not sure they’ll find time anytime soon.”
Something insincere flashed in his words, but Valentina didn’t pay it any mind at the time.
After that memorable morning incident with the mother-in-law, Valentina couldn’t calm down for a long time. That evening, when Leonid came home, she decided not to postpone the serious talk any longer.
“Lenya, let’s talk about your mother,” she said firmly as she met him in the hallway. “There was an unpleasant scene this morning.”
Leonid’s face instantly tensed.
“What has she done this time?”
Valentina recounted Zinaida Petrovna’s visit in detail, not leaving out a single detail, including the remarks about money and ingratitude.
Leonid listened silently, but his hands, gripping the cup of tea, noticeably trembled.
“Sorry,” he finally said when Valentina finished. “I should have explained everything to you long ago.”
They moved to the living room. Leonid stared out the window for a long time before beginning to speak.
“Remember when I told you my parents are busy people? I lied. Or rather, I didn’t tell the whole truth.”
Valentina silently nodded, giving him the chance to continue.
“In our family, I was always the odd one out. An unplanned child, as my mother liked to remind me. Kirill is eight years older, Marina six. They were always the golden children, and I…” — he smiled bitterly — “I was a burden.”
Leonid slowly began to reveal the truth about his childhood. How, at seven, he was already making his own breakfasts because his parents ‘didn’t have time.’ How his brother and sister got new gadgets and fashionable clothes while he wore hand-me-downs from Kirill.
“When it came time for university, my father said directly: ‘There’s no money for you; we’re buying Kirill an apartment.’ And they sponsored Marina’s studies in Europe. Can you imagine?”
Valentina listened.
“But how did you… How did you become like this? So kind, caring?”
“Not thanks to them, but despite them,” he took her hand in his. “At sixteen, I started working — first as a courier, then a waiter. By twenty, I’d saved enough for my first small coffee machine. By twenty-three, I opened ‘Paper Boat.’ Do you know what my father said? ‘Well, at least you’re good for something.’ Meanwhile, Kirill is still living off our parents, changing cars and girlfriends.”
He paused to gather his thoughts.
“The last year was especially unbearable. As soon as my mother found out I was going to marry, she went off the rails. She demanded money for some cousin, insisted I take Marina’s friend into the café. And when she learned your parents gave us a plot for a summer house, she hinted she’d like to live there in the summer.”
Valentina recalled how several times the mother-in-law shamelessly offered to “keep an eye” on their future summer house, though there was only a foundation so far.
“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I was ashamed. Afraid you’d think… I don’t know, that I was weak or complaining. Then it was too late — we were already together, planning the wedding.”
At that moment, Leonid’s phone burst into a ringtone. The screen showed “Mom.”
“Answer it,” Valentina said quietly.
Leonid sighed and picked up. Zinaida Petrovna’s loud, outraged voice was audible even without speakerphone.
“Mom,” Leonid interrupted firmly and unexpectedly. “I know all about your visit today. And I want you to know: it will never happen again.”
A short pause, then another burst of indignation.
“No, Mom. Our wedding will be without you, without Kirill and Marina. I don’t want to see any of you — neither at the ceremony nor in our lives.”
Something sharp sounded in response, but Leonid had already pressed the red button and methodically blocked three numbers on his phone.
Valentina looked at him with a mixture of admiration and anxiety.
“Are you sure? This is your family…”
“No,” he gently disagreed, pulling her close. “My family is you. And your parents, who in two years have given me more warmth than mine have in a lifetime.” He kissed her forehead. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. And thank you for showing my mother the door. Someone had to do it a long time ago.”
“But the wedding…” Valentina began. “Without the groom’s parents…”
“It will be perfect,” Leonid finished confidently. “Better quiet happiness than loud scandals. Let there be only those who sincerely wish us well.”
Valentina hugged him tightly. At last, she understood the reason for his silences and secrecy. And she was grateful for the trust and strength he showed today.
“You’re right,” she said.
Outside the window, the October day was dying away, leaves swirling in the air, caught by the winds of change.
