Alla stood in the middle of the living room, clutching a damp rag in her hands. A wine stain was spreading across the floor—the trace of a glass that had been “accidentally” knocked over. Vyacheslav sat on the couch, buried in his tablet, pretending not to notice what was happening.
“You’re sleeping in the kitchen tonight,” she said evenly, without emotion.
Vyacheslav slowly looked up.
“What is this, kindergarten, Alla? Mom just voiced her opinion about your new dress.”
“VOICED?” Alla flung the rag into the bucket. “Your mother called me a tasteless provincial who can’t dress herself! In front of our friends!”
“Oh, here you go again…” Vyacheslav started, but cut himself off under her stare.
“DON’T YOU DARE!” Alla stepped toward him. “Don’t you dare tell me I’m making things up! Three years, Slava! THREE YEARS your mother has been coming into our home and humiliating me! And you sit there and keep quiet!”
Vyacheslav set the tablet aside and stood up.
“Alla, she’s an elderly woman, she has her own ideas…”
“About what? About how to insult her daughter-in-law?” Alla walked past him to the window. “Remember last week? In front of your brother, she said I cook worse than a dog! And you laughed!”
“It was a joke…”
“A JOKE?” Alla spun around sharply. “When she ‘jokingly’ told your colleagues that I can’t keep house and that you, poor thing, are starving—is that funny too?”
Vyacheslav waved his hand irritably.
“Stop throwing tantrums over every little thing!”
“Little things?” Alla stepped right up to him. “When your mother told my parents that their daughter is a loser who got lucky snagging a successful man—is that a little thing?”
“She didn’t mean it like that…”
“Then what did she mean when she gave me a book for my birthday—How to Become a Good Wife—in front of all the guests?”
Vyacheslav stayed silent, looking away.
“Or when she told my friend Marina that I quote, ‘I’m nothing special—just married well’?”
“Listen, Alla…”
“NO!” She slammed her fist on the table. “YOU listen! Today your mother crossed every line! In front of YOUR business partners she said you married me out of pity! That I was nobody and I’ll stay nobody!”
Vyacheslav frowned.
“She didn’t say that.”
“She did! Ask Mikhail, ask Anton! They all heard it! And you know what you were doing at that moment? SMILING!”
“I was trying to lighten the mood…”
“Lighten it?” Alla laughed bitterly. “Your wife is standing there with cheeks burning from shame, and you’re lightening the mood?”
She went to the door and stopped.
“You know what your partner Igor told me afterward? ‘Alla, why do you put up with this?’ Even a stranger can see what’s going on! And you can’t!”
Vyacheslav followed his wife into the bedroom.
“Alla, let’s talk calmly. Mom is just old-fashioned, she has her own views…”
“OLD-FASHIONED?” Alla yanked a blanket out of the closet. “Calling me ‘that one’ in front of people—is that old-fashioned? ‘Vyacheslav, why did you bring that here?’ Remember that at your birthday?”
“She meant…”
“What did she mean?” Alla shoved the blanket into his hands. “Here’s your blanket. The kitchen is free.”
“This is ridiculous, Alla. I’m not sleeping in the kitchen because you’re offended!”
“Offended?” She froze. “When your mother said our kids would be ugly because my family has ‘bad genetics’—is that just being offended?”
Vyacheslav grimaced.
“She expressed herself poorly…”
“POORLY? She said it to my pregnant sister! Lena burst into tears!”
“Your sister is too sensitive…”
Alla turned to him slowly.
“Say that again.”
“I’m saying you and your sister react too sharply…”
“GET OUT!” Alla grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “GET OUT OF THE BEDROOM! NOW!”
“What’s wrong with you?” Vyacheslav tried to come closer.
“DON’T COME NEAR ME!” She backed away. “Three years! Three years I kept quiet, smiled, pretended everything was fine! Enough!”
“Alla, you’re acting irrational…”
“Irrational?” She laughed harshly. “You know what’s irrational? A husband letting his mother humiliate his wife! Laughing at insults thrown at her!”
Vyacheslav sat on the bed.
“I never laughed…”
“Yesterday! Your mother said I dress like a market vendor! And what did you do? YOU LAUGHED!”
“It was nervous laughter…”
“Nervous?” Alla went to the dresser and started throwing his things out. “And when she said I waste your money on nonsense—was that nervous laughter too?”
“Alla, stop!” Vyacheslav tried to stop her.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” She shoved his hand away. “Do you even know how much I earn? DO YOU? I pay half the bills! But your mother thinks I’m a freeloader—and you stay silent!”
“She doesn’t know about your income…”
“Because you don’t tell her! You let her think I’m living off you!”
Vyacheslav watched helplessly as his wife tossed his belongings.
“Alla, stop. Let’s talk about it tomorrow…”
“Tomorrow?” She stopped. “Like always? ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ ‘Don’t pay attention,’ ‘She didn’t mean it’? NO! Enough!”
“What do you want from me?”
“I wanted you to stand up for me! Just once! Just ONCE say to your mother: ‘Mom, you can’t talk about my wife like that.’”
“I can’t be rude to my mother…”
“And it’s okay to be rude to me?” Alla sat down on the bed, suddenly drained. “It’s okay to be rude, insulting, humiliating to me?”
In the morning Vyacheslav woke up on the kitchen couch with a sore back. Alla was already making breakfast, ignoring him.
“Good morning,” he tried.
Silence.
“Alla, this is childish. Let’s talk like adults.”
She set a plate of eggs in front of him.
“Talk.”
“I thought all night. Maybe you’re right about some things. Mom can be sharp sometimes…”
“Sharp?” Alla poured herself coffee. “Last night she called me. You know what she said?”
Vyacheslav tensed.
“What?”
“That I’m an ungrateful hag. That I don’t appreciate what a wonderful mother-in-law I got. And that you deserve a better woman.”
“She was upset…”
“And then she added that there’s a sweet girl at your office—Kristina. Young, pretty, from a good family. And that you talk about her a lot.”
Vyacheslav choked on his coffee.
“That’s nonsense! Kristina is just a coworker!”
“I know,” Alla sat down across from him. “But your mother is hinting that you can find a replacement. Better than me.”
“Alla, don’t listen to her…”
“What am I supposed to do?” She looked him in the eyes. “Your mother is turning you against me, and you let her!”
“I’m not letting anyone…”
“Yesterday she said in front of everyone that I’m a bad homemaker, a bad wife, and I’ll be a bad mother. And you SAID NOTHING!”
Vyacheslav pushed the plate away.
“What was I supposed to do? Yell at my mother in front of guests?”
“Just say, ‘Mom, you’re wrong.’ Four words.”
“That’s disrespecting elders…”
“And me?” Alla stood up. “It’s okay to disrespect me?”
The doorbell rang. Alla went to open it. On the threshold stood her mother-in-law, Valentina Petrovna.
“I came to talk to my son,” she walked past Alla without greeting her.
Vyacheslav stood up.
“Mom, good morning.”
“Slavochka,” Valentina Petrovna hugged her son, ignoring Alla. “How are you? I hope that one didn’t drive you crazy yesterday with her hysterics?”
“Mom, please…”
“What ‘please’?” she sat down on the couch. “I didn’t sleep all night! I worried about you! You got mixed up with who knows what, and now you suffer!”
Alla stood in the doorway, fists clenched.
“Mom, Alla is my wife…”
“Unfortunately!” Valentina Petrovna gave a theatrical sigh. “I told you—don’t marry the first girl you meet! Look at her—no beauty, no brains, no manners!”
“ENOUGH!” Alla stepped forward.
“Oh, she speaks!” the mother-in-law turned to her. “Learned to raise your voice at elders?”
“I said—ENOUGH! Get out of my house!”
“Your house?” Valentina Petrovna laughed. “Girl, this is my son’s house! You’re here temporarily!”
“Mom!” Vyacheslav tried to intervene.
“Be quiet, Slava!” both women said at the same time.
Alla walked right up to her mother-in-law.
“Valentina Petrovna, I’ve tolerated your insults for three years. But today it ends!”
“Oh, I’m scared,” the mother-in-law waved her hand. “What will you do—run crying to your mommy?”
“No,” Alla pulled out her phone. “I’ll do something else. Vyacheslav, sit down and listen.”
She turned on a voice recorder. Valentina Petrovna’s voice came from the speaker:
“Slavochka, that wife of yours is a complete misunderstanding. I found you a wonderful girl, Kristina. Meet her, and throw this one out. Say she cheated on you—make something up…”
Vyacheslav went pale.
“What is that?”
“That’s your mother leaving you voice messages. Keep listening.”
“Son, I checked—divorce can be done quickly. You’ll say she’s mentally unstable. I’ll testify. And you’ll keep the apartment—it’s in your name…”
Valentina Petrovna jumped up.
“You… you recorded my messages to my son?”
“I recorded EVERYTHING,” Alla switched the recording. “Here’s something interesting. Your conversation with your friend.”
“Valya, how’s your daughter-in-law?”
“Don’t even ask, Lyuda! A nightmare! But it’s fine—I’ll drive her out. I have a plan. I’ll introduce Slavic to my boss’s daughter. At least she’ll come with a dowry…”
“Mom…” Vyacheslav stared at his mother. “Is this true?”
“Slavochka, I only wanted what’s best! That girl isn’t worthy of you!”
“NOT WORTHY?” Alla played the next recording. “Then what is this?”
A man’s voice sounded:
“Valentina Petrovna, this is Pyotr Sergeyevich, your son’s partner. I ask you to stop spreading gossip about his wife. Alla is an excellent specialist and helps Vyacheslav in the business. Your remarks are harming the company’s reputation.”
Vyacheslav sprang up.
“Pyotr called you? Mom, what did you say?”
Valentina Petrovna squirmed.
“I just… I just told the truth! That she’s from a simple family, that her education is part-time…”
“I have TWO degrees!” Alla slammed her fist on the table. “And a diploma with honors! But you tell everyone I’m uneducated!”
“Mom,” Vyacheslav stepped closer. “What else have you been saying?”
“Nothing special…”
Alla played another recording—Valentina Petrovna again:
“Yes, my son married badly. A girl from a dysfunctional family. Her father was a drunk, her mother slept around. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know…”
“My father is a military doctor!” Alla shouted. “A colonel in the medical service! My mother is a teacher with thirty years of experience! How DARE you!”
“I… I mixed it up…” Valentina Petrovna backed away.
“Mixed it up?” Vyacheslav stood there, fists clenched. “Mom, have you been lying about my wife on purpose?”
“I’m protecting you! From this… this…”
“FROM WHO?” Vyacheslav raised his voice. “From the woman who supports me? Who works twelve-hour days so our business can thrive?”
“Slavochka, you don’t understand…”
“I do!” He stepped away from his mother. “Alla is right. You humiliate her, insult her, turn me against her!”
Valentina Petrovna straightened up.
“I’m doing it for your own good! You deserve better!”
“Better?” Vyacheslav shook his head. “Mom, Alla is the best thing that ever happened to me!”
“Don’t talk nonsense!”
“YOU’RE TALKING NONSENSE!” Vyacheslav suddenly screamed, surprising everyone. “Enough! I’m tired! Tired of your intrigues, gossip, lies!”
Valentina Petrovna recoiled. She had never seen her son like this.
“Slavochka…”
“NO!” he waved his hands. “Do you know what you’ve done? Because of your gossip, two partners backed out of deals! They don’t want to work with someone from a ‘dysfunctional family’!”
“I didn’t know…”
“You knew everything!” Alla moved closer to her husband. “Vyacheslav, your mother was trying to destroy your business on purpose, so you’d depend on her!”
“Not true!” Valentina Petrovna jumped up.
“True!” Alla held up her phone. “Here’s your chat with your friend. I’ll read it: ‘Let Slavic go broke. He’ll come back to me, live like before. And we’ll throw this one out.’”
Vyacheslav snatched the phone and read it. His face flushed dark red.
“Mom… you wanted me to go bankrupt?”
“I wanted you to come back! To be my boy!”
“I’M THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OLD!”
“But you’re my son!”
“And ALLA’S HUSBAND!” Vyacheslav hugged his wife. “My beloved wife, whom you humiliate!”
“She bewitched you!”
“LEAVE!” Alla suddenly screamed. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! NOW!”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”
“GET OUT!” Alla grabbed her mother-in-law’s purse and tossed it out the door. “OUT! And don’t you ever show up again!”
“Slava!” Valentina Petrovna looked at her son.
But Vyacheslav was silent, holding his wife.
“Slavochka, tell her…”
“Leave, Mom,” he said quietly but firmly. “Leave and don’t come back until you apologize to Alla.”
“Apologize? To HER?”
“To my WIFE! Whom you insulted, humiliated, lied about!”
Valentina Petrovna stared at her son as if he were a stranger.
“You choose her?”
“I choose my family. Alla is my family!”
“You’ll regret it!” the mother-in-law headed for the door. “When she leaves you, don’t come to me!”
“I WON’T!” Vyacheslav shouted after her.
The door slammed. The apartment fell silent. Alla and Vyacheslav stood there, holding each other.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “Forgive me for those three years. I was a blind idiot.”
“Do you really choose me?”
“I always did. I was just afraid to admit it.”
Alla pulled back a little.
“Why were you silent before?”
“I was afraid of her. I’ve been afraid since childhood. She always commanded, decided for me. And I got used to obeying.”
“And now?”
“Now?” Vyacheslav took her hands. “Now I’ll protect you. Always. From everyone. And first of all—from my mother.”
“And if she comes back?”
“Let her apologize first. To you. In front of everyone she insulted.”
Alla gave a faint smile.
“That’s unlikely.”
“Then she won’t come back.”
A month later Valentina Petrovna tried to make peace with her son. She came with a cake and flowers. Vyacheslav met her in the doorway.
“Did you apologize to Alla?”
“Slavochka, why all these formalities…”
“Goodbye, Mom,” and he closed the door.
Two months later she sent a letter threatening to cut him out of the inheritance. Vyacheslav replied briefly: “Don’t need it.”
Three months later she called, sobbing that she was ill. When Vyacheslav arrived, he found his mother perfectly healthy, drinking tea with her friends. He left without a word.
Half a year later, standing outside her son’s door on his birthday, Valentina Petrovna finally said:
“Alla, forgive me. I was wrong.”
The door opened. Alla stood there with a baby bump.
“Too late. We moved. Other people live here now.”
“Where… where did you move?”
“Far away from you,” Alla said, and closed the door.
Valentina Petrovna remained standing on the landing. Alone. The son chose his wife—just as it should be in a normal family.
And at that moment, Vyacheslav and Alla were celebrating his birthday in a new apartment. Without toxic relatives. Without humiliation. Without insults.
Just the two of them. Soon three. Happy.
