— Well, since you’ve come with complaints, let me explain a few things. Let’s start with the apartment. A year ago, even before your first criticism of my daughter, we officially transferred the ownership. The apartment belongs to Katya. And she has the right to inform you of this at any time. But since she hasn’t, it means she didn’t find it necessary.
Katya and Ivan married for love — sincerely, without calculation or elaborate preparations. The wedding was modest, without a huge number of guests. Katya and Vanya wanted to spend time with friends at a restaurant with a panoramic city view.
Katya’s parents — Pavel Petrovich and Yulia Vladimirovna — reacted calmly, but Ivan’s mother, Lyubov Stepanovna, immediately told her son that this was wrong.
— If there’s no money, then there shouldn’t be any wedding! — she snapped at her son.
— We’d rather save that money for an apartment, — Ivan replied. — And we’ll have a modest celebration. We’ll register the marriage on Wednesday, and we’ve booked a table for Saturday.
— You should have invited your parents, but you invited friends instead. What kind of nonsense is that?! — the woman kept insisting.
But Ivan had already decided everything since he was the one who suggested celebrating this way. Vanya knew well what his mother was capable of and really didn’t want everyone to immediately find out what kind of person she was. So he tried to postpone the moment of introducing his fiancée’s parents as long as possible.
No matter how unhappy Lyubov Stepanovna was, the celebration took place as the young couple planned. Afterwards, Yulia Vladimirovna suggested celebrating again with relatives at their countryside house.
Together with Katya, they prepared various appetizers. Pavel Petrovich took charge of the meat, and Ivan helped him. The in-laws arrived at the appointed time with a cake in hand.
— Ordinary people really can’t get to you easily, — Lyubov Stepanovna said with a sarcastic smile, handing the cake to Katya.
— Hello, — Yulia Vladimirovna nodded and invited them into the house. — The weather feels strange today, like it might rain any moment. Katya and I decided it’s better to set the table inside rather than in the gazebo.
The men stood by the grill, frying meat, while the women sat at the table. Katya sat quietly, looking down at her cup of tea, occasionally glancing out the window. Beyond the lush apple tree crown, clouds were gathering. The thicker they became, the more something inside her tightened — tension hung in the air like before a thunderstorm.
— And you, Yulia Vladimirovna, — Lyubov Stepanovna suddenly began with feigned politeness, — tell me, how did you manage to build such a magnificent house? Not everyone can afford such grandeur. It looks like something out of a magazine. Did you inherit it or sell something?
Yulia Vladimirovna set down her cup and, maintaining a friendly tone, smiled:
— There’s no secret here, Lyubov Stepanovna. My husband worked in construction all his life. He built it little by little with his own hands. We bought the land about fifteen years ago, first built a summer house, then decided to expand. Materials at wholesale prices, all work done ourselves. So it ended up being economical.
— Ah, yes, when your hands grow from the right place, that makes things easier, — the mother-in-law nodded, though her eyes squinted suspiciously. — I thought maybe you had your own business.
— Business? — Yulia Vladimirovna repeated, smiling reservedly. — No, we’re ordinary people. We just planned everything in advance.
There was a short pause. Outside, the first gust of wind rustled.
— And the apartment? — the mother-in-law continued her interrogation, sipping tea. — Where did you live before? The place where Katya and Vanya live now — that’s yours, right?
Katya flinched. Yulia Vladimirovna looked at her.
— Yes, — she replied calmly. — This apartment is registered in my name. — But you know, my husband and I thought… why should the young couple rent or take out a mortgage? They’ll live in our apartment for now; we’ve moved to the house, so it’s empty anyway.
Lyubov Stepanovna froze for a moment, calculating what she’d heard.
— So… the apartment isn’t Katya’s? — she repeated, as if confirming an address for important news.
— No, — Yulia Vladimirovna confirmed a bit more sternly. — I am the owner.
— I see… — the mother-in-law muttered, lowering her gaze to the cup, but her eyes glimmered. — I just thought you had already transferred it to the young couple. Well… so there would be a guarantee. Vanya is a promising guy, after all. With a career.
Katya felt a ringing in her temples. Guarantee. Promising. As always — calculation peeks through concern.
The rest of the evening passed in strained politeness. Pavel Petrovich and Anton Ivanovich — Ivan’s father — quickly found common ground. Both loved fishing, both understood each other with half a word. They even agreed to go to the lake together next week. The men laughed, clinked glasses, and clearly didn’t want to leave.
But Lyubov Stepanovna kept tugging at her husband’s sleeve:
— Let’s go already, Anton! It’s awkward to stay so long.
— Why? Wait, we just started! — he brushed her off, which seemed to annoy her even more.
When they finally left, Lyubov Stepanovna didn’t even say a proper goodbye — just nodded at Katya with a look as if Katya already owed her something.
A phone call came near midnight when Katya was already lying in bed trying not to think about the evening’s conversations. Ivan frowned, picked up the receiver, and went into the hallway. Katya only heard his restrained «Hi, Mom.»
The conversation dragged on. There were pauses, loud “Come on, Mom, stop it,” and tired “No, we’re not going to sell the apartment.”
Finally, he returned — gloomy, with eyes mixing anger and embarrassment.
From that evening, Lyubov Stepanovna began a real siege. Every call came with barbs aimed at her daughter-in-law.
— Son, are you sure you want to live like this? Your daughter-in-law is completely broke, works in some unknown office. You’d better stay with Lenochka. Her father is a businessman…
— It’s time to have children. Youth doesn’t last forever…
— Maybe your wife should talk to her parents about transferring the apartment to you. That way everyone would be calmer.
Lyubov Stepanovna rarely called Katya. She didn’t act openly — no visits, no scandals, no intrusion into personal space. She called. Almost every evening. And talked to her son for a long time. Sometimes after those talks, Ivan became irritated, withdrawn, and began to notice imaginary flaws in his wife.
Yulia Vladimirovna, learning about this, only smirked:
— Katya, dear. I deliberately said that the apartment is still mine. Otherwise, Lyubov Stepanovna wouldn’t have shown her true face. And look… it’s unclear where your Ivan got such decency from. And you keep quiet and don’t tell anyone that your father has his own construction business. We’ll sneakily get your Vanya a job there, like a position opened up. He’s a great designer!
— Really? — Katya was surprised. — But… I don’t know… if he’ll agree.
— Our job is to offer, his is to consider.
A few days after the last conversation with Lyubov Stepanovna, Ivan sat in the kitchen, picking at macaroni with a spoon. He was in a bad mood. Katya silently brewed tea, and at that moment his phone rang.
— Hello, Vanya? — came Pavel Petrovich’s cheerful voice. — Hi, son. Listen, I have news — one of the designers in our firm is leaving. We urgently need a capable person, you said yourself you’re tired of corporate routine?
Ivan sighed, putting down the spoon.
— I did say that. But I’m not sure…
— Confidence is something you acquire, — his father-in-law laughed. — The salary is about the same, our office is cozy, the team is great. No corporate fuss. Decide. There’s some time, but not much.
Ivan was restless all day. He recalled everything: how ideas were “eaten” at the old company, how he regularly worked overtime, how once the boss simply presented his drawing as his own. And at dinner that evening he suddenly said:
— I agree. Let your dad send me what I need.
Katya almost cried with relief. She was afraid to push, knowing how important independence was to her husband. But he chose himself — and that meant something was beginning to change in their lives.
Two weeks later, Ivan started the job. The first days were exciting and unusual, then he learned that Pavel Petrovich was the director of this firm. This was a big revelation for the young man.
Pavel Petrovich maintained reasonable discipline, giving no favors or obstacles to his son-in-law. On the contrary, he demanded Ivan keep a high professional standard. Ivan liked that. For the first time in a long while, he felt respect rather than control from above.
But the calm didn’t last long. A week after starting the new job, his mother called.
— Have you gone completely mad?! — she began without even greeting. — To trade a big company for a small construction firm building sheds and cottages! Shame! Do you even understand how much you lost?!
— Mom, those aren’t sheds. These are private homes, good projects, quality materials. And I design, I’m not laying bricks. I like it, — Ivan said calmly.
— What could you possibly like? Have you lost your mind without me? As soon as you married that Katya, they took you over!
— That’s enough, Mom, — Ivan’s voice became steel. — Either you respect my choice and my wife, or we’ll just limit our communication.
There was a long silence on the line. Then a short “as you wish” — and a beep.
That evening, at home, Ivan came to Katya, sat beside her, and took her hand.
— You know… It’s very calm working with your father. It’s like I’ve stopped proving to someone that I’m worth something. I just do the work.
Katya smiled and hugged him tightly. It seemed to her that for the first time in a long time, she could breathe out.
The next day, on a sunny mid-morning, while Katya and Ivan were at work, Yulia Vladimirovna’s house unexpectedly rang. The woman looked out the window and saw a familiar, well-made-up figure in a bright jacket — Lyubov Stepanovna.
Yulia Vladimirovna frowned but opened the gate and went outside:
— Good afternoon, Lyubov Stepanovna. What happened?
— Something definitely happened! — the mother-in-law said, stepping inside without invitation. — Just tell me one thing: why did you enslave my son like this?! Now I understand you arranged everything! First — the apartment, which, it turns out, isn’t even registered to Katya. Then you convinced your husband, and he lured Ivan to work for him — so Vanechka would be under your control like a tame cat!
Yulia Vladimirovna slowly closed the door behind her guest and calmly went to the kitchen, motioning for her to sit.
— Would you like some tea? — she asked.
— I didn’t come for tea! — Lyubov Stepanovna flared up. — I came to sort this out because you’re ruining my son’s life!
Yulia Vladimirovna smirked slightly and put the kettle on the stove.
— Well then, since you came with complaints, let me explain a few things, — her voice was calm but steel rang in it. — Let’s start with the apartment. Pavel Petrovich and I really didn’t register anything in Katya’s name at first. But a year ago, before your first criticism of my daughter, we signed over the ownership. The apartment belongs to Katya. And she can notify you of this anytime. But since she hasn’t, she didn’t consider it necessary.
Lyubov Stepanovna went pale.
— Are you… mocking me on purpose?!
— No. We just know how to wait. And now — the work. The firm where Ivan works belongs to Pavel. It’s his business, which he has been building for nearly twenty years. But we never used this connection until Ivan himself decided to leave that “fancy company” where his ideas were stolen and his work devalued. You’d be proud of your wonderful son if you were less angry, — Yulia Vladimirovna placed a cup of tea in front of her guest. — Your son finally has a job where he is appreciated.
Lyubov Stepanovna opened her mouth but found no words.
— And finally, — added Yulia Vladimirovna, looking her straight in the eyes. — You have no right to destroy someone else’s family. Neither with calls, nor reproaches, nor your endless “you’d better.” Your son is an adult. He has his own family, his own life. And if you don’t learn to respect it — you won’t exist in this life. I mean, in their life.
— Are you threatening me? — the mother-in-law asked in a trembling voice.
— I’m asking you to apologize to Katya. And to learn to speak politely to people, regardless of their status. If you don’t want to change, then don’t come to our house anymore. It’s very simple.
Lyubov Stepanovna abruptly stood up. She hesitated, then headed to the door. Before leaving, she said shortly:
— I’ll think about it.
— You’d better start feeling, — Yulia Vladimirovna said softly after her back. — Because you’ve long forgotten how to think.
When the door shut behind the guest, Yulia Vladimirovna sat back down and finally calmly sipped her tea.
That evening Katya came into the house with a bouquet of peonies in her hands:
— Mom, for you!
— What for?
— Just because. Because every day I’m more convinced that I have an amazing family.
And they smiled at each other as if knowing the hardest part was already behind them.
