October rain drummed on the car roof as if someone were nervously tapping their fingers. Lyudmila sat behind the wheel, watching the wipers struggle against the streams of water on the windshield. She didn’t hurry to get out — visits to her mother-in-law were always hard for her. Vera Nikolaevna had been in the cardiology ward for three weeks after a severe heart attack. Despite their strained relationship, Lyudmila unfailingly brought her fruit, homemade food, and news from home.
When the rain eased a little, she finally took the bag of treats from the passenger seat and headed toward the hospital. The gloomy weather matched her inner state. That morning her husband, Sergey, had left on business, promising to return late, yet his car stood in the parking lot. So he had also come to see his mother, though he usually visited only on weekends — supposedly because of his workload.
Inside, the familiar hospital smell of antiseptic and medicine lingered in the air. Lyudmila went up to the third floor, nodded to the nurse she already knew, and walked to the ward. The door was ajar, and just then she caught her husband’s muffled voice:
— Mom, are you absolutely sure about your decision?
— Absolutely, — Vera Nikolaevna replied, her usually weak voice firm. — It’s my right, and I won’t change my mind.
Lyudmila froze. Something in their tone alarmed her.
— But Lyudmila… — Sergey began.
— Lyudmila has nothing to do with this, — his mother interrupted. — This is my property, and I can dispose of it as I see fit. If you don’t sign, I’ll find another way.
— I’ll sign, — Sergey exhaled. — I just don’t like that we’re doing this behind her back.
Lyudmila’s heart clenched. What documents were they talking about? What was he about to sign?
She cautiously peered through the gap. Sergey sat at the bedside with papers in his hands, while a man in a strict suit with a briefcase — a notary — stood nearby. The sight was so unexpected that for a moment Lyudmila hesitated: should she go in or wait?
Curiosity won. She stayed where she was.
— Here, here, and on the last page, — the notary instructed.
Sergey took a pen and began signing. Vera Nikolaevna watched with a satisfied smile.
— Excellent, — she said when the signatures were in place. — Now I’m at peace.
— The documents take effect immediately, — the notary explained. — The deed of gift is properly executed; there will be no disputes.
A deed of gift? Lyudmila felt a chill. Her mother-in-law owned a downtown apartment and a country house. Was she transferring everything to Sergey without telling her daughter-in-law? And why in secret, in a hospital ward?
Taking a deep breath, Lyudmila knocked and walked in with a forced smile.
— May I?
Sergey startled.
— Lyuda! You’re already here?
— I decided to come earlier, — she said, approaching her mother-in-law. — Hello, Vera Nikolaevna. How are you feeling?
— Fine, — came the dry reply. — For my age and condition.
The notary, introducing himself as Igor Semyonovich, quickly gathered the papers.
— I’ll be going, — he said. — The matter is complete; the rest will be handled in the office.
Sergey escorted him, asking something quietly at the door. Lyudmila busied herself laying out fruit, though her eyes never left her husband. After twenty years of marriage, she could read him in a lift of his brow or a shift in his tone. Now he was tense, avoiding her gaze.
— I brought purée and cottage cheese, just as you like, — she told her mother-in-law.
— You shouldn’t have, — Vera Nikolaevna replied curtly. — They feed us decently here.
— Homemade is always better, — Lyudmila smiled, though inside she was boiling.
When the notary left, heavy silence filled the ward. Sergey sat by the window, drumming nervously with his fingers. His mother stared at the ceiling, as if the situation didn’t concern her.
— So, were you handling some important matters? — Lyudmila finally broke the silence.
— Just papers, — Sergey waved it off.
— In a hospital? With a notary? — she raised an eyebrow. — That doesn’t sound like “just papers.”
— Don’t meddle where you don’t belong, — snapped her mother-in-law. — This is between me and Sergey.
Heat flared in Lyudmila’s cheeks. After all these years she was still “the outsider,” still “not family.”
— Mom, enough, — Sergey said tiredly. — Lyudmila has a right to know.
— She has no such right, — the old woman retorted stubbornly. — This is my decision, my property.
— What are you even talking about? — Lyudmila asked, looking from one to the other.
Sergey rubbed his temples.
— Mom decided to transfer the apartment and the dacha… to Kostya.
— To Kostya? — Lyudmila was stunned. — To your nephew?
— He’s my grandson, — Vera Nikolaevna cut in sharply. — He needs a place while studying. And you and Sergey have enough as it is.
It was true — they had a spacious apartment. But it wasn’t about housing. It was about once again being pushed beyond the family’s line, decisions made behind her back.
— I understand, — Lyudmila said quietly. — But why couldn’t we talk it over together?
— Because you always complicate things, — sighed her mother-in-law. — Arguments, questions… And I mustn’t get upset now.
— I never interfered with your property, — Lyudmila objected. — You have every right to dispose of it as you wish.
— Exactly, — Vera Nikolaevna nodded. — So everything is fine.
But nothing was fine. The problem wasn’t her mother-in-law’s decision — it was Sergey. Why had he hidden it from her? Why hadn’t he warned her?
— I need to step out, — said Lyudmila. — The procedures will start soon. I’ll come back later.
She left, went past the lobby, and stopped on the stair landing. She needed to breathe. Twenty years of marriage — and he still obeyed his mother, still made decisions without her.
Footsteps behind her. Sergey.
— Lyuda, — he stopped beside her. — Let’s talk.
— About what? — she crossed her arms. — About how you sign documents without saying a word to me?
— I meant to tell you, — he ran his hand through his hair. — It all happened so fast. Mom insisted, said she felt unwell and had to settle things urgently.
— And you, of course, couldn’t refuse, — she said bitterly. — As always.
— She’s my mother. And she really is sick.
— I know. And I’ve never stood between you two, — she looked him in the eye. — But you’re my husband. We are a family. These things must be decided together, not behind closed doors in a hospital.
Sergey lowered his gaze.
— You’re right. Forgive me. I just… got tangled. Mom pressed me, said she might not live to be discharged, wanted everything settled…
— And you knew she’d hit the right buttons, — Lyudmila finished. — As always.
They fell silent. Outside, the rain grew heavier, drumming against the cornice.
— It’s not about the apartment or the dacha, — she said quietly. — It’s about trust. You should have told me.
— I was going to, — he nodded. — Tonight, at home. I just didn’t expect you so soon.
— I came early to see her before the procedures, — she reminded him. — And what about the deed of gift? I heard the notary mention it.
Sergey sighed.
— Mom made out the gift to me. I’m supposed to pass everything on to Kostya once he starts studying.
— Why so complicated? — Lyudmila frowned. — Why not directly to him?
— She doesn’t trust Olga, — he explained. — She’s afraid my sister will sell the apartment and spend the money. She wants me to control it.
— And you agreed, — Lyudmila stated flatly.
— What else could I do? Refuse a dying woman?
— She’s not dying, Sergey, — Lyudmila said gently. — The doctors say she’s improving. She has years ahead of her.
— But there’s still a risk, — he insisted. — And if this is her last wish…
She studied him closely. After twenty years she knew him inside out. He was hiding something. That worried her more than anything.
— What else? — she asked directly, locking eyes with him. — What aren’t you telling me?
He looked away.
— Nothing, — he answered too quickly. — That’s all.
— Sergey, — she gently but firmly took his chin, making him meet her eyes. — Don’t lie to me. Please.
He gave in, sighing deeply.
— All right. But you mustn’t tell Mom you know, — he warned. — It would upset her.
— I’m listening, — she nodded.
— The deed of gift is drawn so that I become the rightful owner of the apartment and dacha, — he said slowly. — But with a condition: I must transfer everything to Kostya after his first year, provided he does well in school.
— And the catch? — she asked. — That sounds logical, if she wants to help her grandson.
— The catch is, — Sergey hesitated, — if I don’t fulfill the condition, Mom can revoke the gift. She has that right.
Lyudmila frowned.
— How? Is it possible to cancel a gift?
— Yes, — he nodded. — If conditions are specified and violated. For example, if the recipient mistreats the property or fails obligations. Mom included such a clause.
— So she gives you the property but still controls it, — Lyudmila said slowly. — This isn’t about helping her grandson. It’s about keeping you under her thumb.
— You’re too negative, — Sergey muttered.
— No, I’m realistic, — she cut him off. — She doesn’t trust me, and now she doesn’t want you to trust me either. She fears we, as a family, might use the property as we see fit. So she’s turning you into a puppet.
Sergey wanted to object, but footsteps echoed — the nurse was approaching.
— We should go back, — he said. — They’ll start injections soon.
Lyudmila nodded, but inside she was seething. Not over the property. Not over money. But because her husband was once again trapped by his mother’s will, making decisions without her.
Back in the ward, Vera Nikolaevna looked pleased. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled — as though she had just won a victory.
— Sergey told you everything? — she asked when Lyudmila sat down.
— Yes, — Lyudmila replied curtly. — You’re free to dispose of your property as you wish, Vera Nikolaevna.
— That’s right, — the older woman nodded. — Kostya is my only grandson. He deserves a chance.
Lyudmila bit her lip. She longed to remind her that she and Sergey also had a daughter — Anya, their fifteen-year-old, whom they had adopted after realizing they couldn’t have children. But Vera never called Anya “granddaughter.” To her, she was “adopted,” “not one of us.”
— Of course, — was all Lyudmila said.
The nurse came to announce procedures. Lyudmila gratefully stood up.
— We’ll go, — she said. — We’ll come tomorrow.
— Sergey can stay, — Vera quickly interjected. — We need to talk.
— No, Mom, — Sergey answered firmly. — I’ll go with Lyuda. I’ll come back tomorrow.
A flicker of annoyance crossed his mother’s face, but she stayed silent.
— As you wish, — she said. — Till tomorrow.
They left in silence. The rain had nearly stopped, only a light drizzle brushing their faces. Sergey suggested they ride together.
— I need to talk to you, — he said, starting the engine. — Really talk.
Lyudmila fastened her seatbelt, waiting.
— I made a mistake, — he began, pulling out of the lot. — Agreeing to that scheme. You were right. Mom manipulates me. She always has.
— And what are you going to do? — she asked.
— Tomorrow I’ll tell her I refuse, — he said firmly. — Let her transfer directly to Kostya or write a will. But I won’t be part of her plan. I won’t be her pawn.
Lyudmila looked at him in surprise. She had never heard Sergey say such things before.
— Are you sure? She’ll be furious.
— I’m sure, — he nodded. — I’m forty-five. It’s time to stop being the boy afraid of upsetting his mother. And besides… — he glanced at her, — you matter more. Our family matters more.
Lyudmila’s breath caught. For the first time in twenty years, Sergey was putting their marriage above his mother’s demands. It felt like a breakthrough.
— Thank you, — she whispered.
— For what? — he asked, surprised.
— For choosing us. Finally.
He reached out, took her hand.
— I’m sorry it took so long, — he said. — I should’ve realized earlier that Mom would never accept you, never stop interfering. It was my choice to stay silent, to obey.
— I understand, — she nodded. — You love her. That’s natural.
— But you’re my wife, — he said firmly. — You and Anya are my family. And I won’t let anyone come between us again.
They drove through the evening city, lights flickering on as the streets glowed. Ahead lay a hard conversation, maybe even conflict. But for the first time in a long while, Lyudmila felt they were one. Her husband had finally become her true support.
— You know, — she said, gazing out the window, — sometimes it takes betrayal to realize who’s really by your side.
— Like catching your husband with a notary in a hospital ward? — he smiled wryly.
— Exactly, — she nodded. — But I’m glad it happened. Maybe now we can finally build a family without her shadow between us.
Sergey squeezed her hand.
— I promise, — he said. — No more secrets. Just us — you, me, and Anya.
— And maybe Kostya, — Lyudmila added. — If he comes to study, he’ll need more than an apartment. He’ll need family.
Sergey looked at her with gratitude.
— You’re incredible, — he said. — After all she’s done to you, you’re still ready to accept him.
— He’s your blood, — she replied simply. — So he’s mine too. But for real, not just on paper.
They pulled up to their home. Sergey turned off the engine but didn’t get out. Instead, he turned to her and held her tight.
— I love you, — he whispered. — And I’ll never let you down again.
— I love you too, — she answered, pressing against him. — And I believe you.
At home Anya was waiting — with dinner she had cooked herself and stories from school. An ordinary evening. An ordinary family. But for them, it marked the beginning of something new — a life built on trust, honesty, and real closeness. And though tomorrow promised to be difficult, they would face it not apart, but together. As a family. A true one.
