“Mom says you didn’t feed her.”
Anna was standing at the stove, stirring soup. Her hand stopped mid-motion.
“Sergey, I fed her at two. Buckwheat and a cutlet.”
“She says you didn’t.”
Anna turned around. Her husband was standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. But it was his eyes that hurt the most. He was looking at her as if she were lying.
“Do you really think I’m starving your mother?”
He gave a small shrug.
“I don’t know. But my mother wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
Anna switched off the stove, walked into the bathroom, and sat on the edge of the tub. It was the fourth time that week her husband had chosen not to believe her.
Three weeks earlier, they had moved Antonina Stepanovna into their home. She had fallen and fractured her hip. At the hospital they said recovery would be long, and she would not be walking anytime soon. Sergey had not even asked Anna what she thought. He had simply said, “I’m bringing Mom here.”
Anna had not objected. She worked in social services. Taking care of people was what she did.
The first few days were uneventful. Antonina Stepanovna lay in the living room, groaning softly, thanking Anna for everything. Sergey was glowing with gratitude. Anna changed the sheets, made broth, and helped with the bedpan.
Then strange things started happening.
A bill went missing. Anna clearly remembered placing it on the dresser. Because of that, she ended up overpaying.
Then her grandmother’s ring disappeared. Gold, with a blue stone. The jewelry box was still there, but the ring was gone.
Then the violets died. All of them at once. Their leaves turned black.
“Maybe you overwatered them?” Sergey asked.
“No.”
Anna threw the flowerpots away and glanced through the doorway at her mother-in-law. Antonina Stepanovna was lying there under the blanket up to her chin, her face peaceful.
“Anyechka, could you bring me some water?”
Her voice sounded frail. Anna brought her a glass.
“Thank you, dear.”
Antonina Stepanovna took a sip and looked at Anna. Her gaze was heavy, nothing like the one she wore when Sergey was in the room.
“You know, I always told him he needed a different woman. Don’t be offended. He simply deserves better.”
Anna stood there holding the empty glass. Something inside her tightened.
“What exactly do you mean?”
“Just look at yourself. You’re so dull. Colorless.”
Anna turned around and left the room.
That evening Sergey came home in a dark mood.
“Mom says you yelled at her.”
Anna was slicing a cucumber.
“I didn’t.”
“She was crying when I called.”
“I did not yell at her.”
“Then why was she crying?”
Anna looked up. He had already made up his mind.
“I don’t know. But I didn’t raise my voice.”
“It’s hard for me to believe you, Anna. My mother wouldn’t lie.”
“And I would?”
He fell silent for a moment.
“I never thought you could be this cruel. To a sick person.”
He walked into the bedroom. Anna stayed in the kitchen with the knife still in her hand. Her fingers were not shaking. They just felt empty.
Two days later Sergey spent half an hour searching for the garage keys. He was shouting, tearing the hallway apart, then left in a taxi. That evening he came back furious. Anna was packing her bag for the next day when he walked over and dumped everything out. At the bottom were the keys.
He held them up in front of her face.
“Explain this.”
“I don’t know how they got there.”
“Oh, what, they jumped in on their own? Mom? She can’t even get out of bed, Anna. She’s bedridden. You’re doing this on purpose. Are you trying to make me throw her out?”
“No.”
“Then why are you hiding my things? What are you trying to achieve?”
Anna looked at him and understood that nothing she said would matter. In her own home, she had become the crazy one.
The next day, Anna bought a small camera. The kind people use in summer cottages. At home, she hid it behind books on a shelf in the living room, pointed straight at her mother-in-law’s bed. Antonina Stepanovna was asleep, turned away.
Anna did not tell her about the camera.
The next morning she left for work. At lunch, she locked herself in her office, opened the app, and pressed play.
Antonina Stepanovna was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Then she turned her head toward the door. Listened. And stood up.
Just stood up.
No groaning. No pain. No hesitation.
She walked across the room, rolled her shoulders, and even whistled under her breath.
Anna stared at the screen. Her hands went numb.
Then it got worse.
Antonina Stepanovna walked into the hallway. She went through the pockets of Anna’s coat and slipped something into her robe. Then she entered the bedroom and opened the dresser. After that, she went to the kitchen, took out a cleaning product from under the sink, walked to the windowsill, and poured it into the flowerpots with the violets.
Anna stopped the recording and closed her eyes.
Then she skipped ahead to the evening. Antonina Stepanovna was lying there with her phone in hand. She dialed a number.
“Seryozhenka, it’s me…” Her voice sounded weak and broken. “She yelled at me again today. And she wouldn’t even give me water. It’s so hard being alone with her…”
Anna turned off the video and stood up. Outside, a fine rain was falling.
That was when she understood why her husband had stopped believing her.
Because his mother was more convincing.
That evening Sergey came home looking grim. He walked past, then came back a minute later, his face like stone.
“Mom says you called her a fraud.”
Anna was sitting at the table with her laptop. She did not even lift her head.
“I was at work all day. I got home half an hour ago.”
“She says it happened this morning.”
“I left at eight. She was asleep.”
“So she’s lying? A sick woman is just lying? Why?”
“I don’t know why. But yes, she is.”
Sergey stepped closer, his voice rising.
“Do you even hear yourself? That’s my mother. She raised me alone. And you’re accusing her of lying?”
Anna turned the laptop toward him. The screen was frozen on a frame showing Antonina Stepanovna standing in the middle of the living room.
“Watch.”
He sat down. Anna pressed the space bar.
The video started.
Sergey watched in silence. At first he looked confused. Then his eyes widened. On the screen, his mother was moving around the apartment with ease. She opened Anna’s cabinet, took out the jewelry box, removed the ring, and slipped it into her pocket.
Sergey went pale.
“When was this?”
“The day before yesterday. Want to see how she poisoned the flowers? Or how she planted your keys in my bag?”
Anna played another clip. His mother was going through the coat pocket, taking the keys, walking to Anna’s bag, dropping them to the bottom. Then she lay back down, picked up her phone, and said in a trembling voice:
“Seryozhenka, I’m so worried… Anya looks at me strangely. I’m scared…”
Anna shut the laptop.
Silence.
Sergey sat without moving, his face white. Then he stood and walked into the living room.
“Mom. Get up.”
Anna heard everything.
“Seryozhenka, you know I can’t…”
“Get up. Now.”
“Son, I don’t understand…”
“I saw the video. Get up.”
A long pause followed. A rustle. Footsteps.
Antonina Stepanovna walked out on her own two feet. Her face was twisted with rage. She looked at Anna, hatred burning in her eyes.
“So you put up cameras? Spying on a sick woman? You’re even lower than I thought.”
Anna said nothing.
“You think he’ll choose you?” her voice suddenly broke into a scream. “I’m his mother! I gave birth to him! I have every right to control his life! And you? You’re nobody. A gray little mouse!”
“Mom.” Sergey’s voice was quiet, broken. “Why?”
Antonina Stepanovna turned to him.
“So you would see what she really is. So you would leave her. You deserve better.”
“You destroyed my marriage. You made me think my wife was losing her mind. You lied every single day.”
“I was saving you!”
“From whom?” He sank into a chair, tears in his eyes. “From the person who loves me?”
Antonina Stepanovna clenched her fists.
“She doesn’t love you the way I do.”
Anna stood up.
“You’re leaving tomorrow. I’ll call social services if you need help. But you are not staying here.”
“You have no right!” Antonina Stepanovna took a step toward her. “My son decides!”
Anna looked at Sergey.
“Either she goes, or I do.”
Silence. Ten seconds. Twenty.
Then he lifted his head.
“I’ll take you home tomorrow.”
“Sergey…” Her voice trembled. “You can’t. I’m your mother.”
“That is exactly why I can’t leave you here. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Antonina Stepanovna stood in the middle of the room, small and bent. Then she turned and went back into the living room. The door slammed.
That night Anna lay on the edge of the bed while Sergey tossed and turned beside her.
“Anya…”
She did not answer.
“I’m sorry. Please.”
“For what? For not believing me? For making me live through three weeks of hell in my own home?”
“For everything. I never imagined Mom could do something like this…”
“You thought I was lying. You thought I wanted to drive your sick mother out.”
“I’m sorry.”
Anna closed her eyes.
“Go to sleep, Sergey.”
The next morning Sergey packed his mother’s things. Two bags. Antonina Stepanovna got dressed in silence. She did not look at Anna. At the door, she stopped and turned back.
“He will never forgive you for separating him from his mother.”
Anna stood by the window and did not turn around.
The door slammed. The car drove away.
Anna walked through the apartment. The living room was empty, as if nothing had happened. She took the camera off the shelf, looked at it, removed the memory card, snapped it in half, and threw it away.
The silence in the apartment was complete.
Sergey came back an hour later. He went into the bedroom without saying a word. Half an hour later, he came out with a bag.
“I’m staying with Oleg for a while. I need time to think.”
Anna nodded.
He stood in the doorway.
“I’m sorry, Anya. I don’t know how to fix this.”
Anna looked at him. At the man she had spent five years with. The man who once called her his happiness. The man who had chosen his mother over her.
“You can’t.”
“What?”
“You can’t fix it. I lived in hell for three weeks. I was afraid in my own home. I started wondering if maybe I really was losing my mind. And every single day, you looked at me like I was the enemy.”
“I didn’t know…”
“You didn’t want to know. You chose to believe her, not me.”
Sergey lowered his head.
“I can change everything. We can start over…”
“No.” Anna’s voice was calm. “Every time you look at me, I’ll remember. The way you shouted at me. The accusations. The way you chose her.”
“She’s my mother…”
“And I was your wife.”
He froze.
“Was?”
“Yes. File for divorce.”
“Anya, don’t do this. Give me a chance…”
“You had three weeks of chances. Not once did you believe me. Not once, Sergey.”
He stood there gripping the bag. Then he nodded, walked out, and shut the door quietly behind him.
Anna sat down on the sofa. Her hands rested on her knees. Inside her there were no tears, no pain. Only emptiness. And a strange sense of relief.
The divorce was finalized a month later. No scandals. Sergey took the rest of his things and moved out for good.
On the day they signed the papers, they met outside the registry office. They greeted each other with a nod and went inside. Twenty minutes. Signatures. A stamp.
On the way out, he stopped.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Mom…” He paused. “Mom doesn’t call me anymore. She hasn’t spoken to me for two weeks.”
Anna looked at him, waiting to feel pity. She felt nothing.
“That’s between the two of you, Sergey.”
“I lost both of you.”
“You made your choice.”
He nodded and walked to his car. Anna remained standing on the steps. She took out her phone and checked the time. She could still make it back to the office.
Instead, she went the other way.
She walked slowly down the street, looking into shop windows. Then she went into a flower shop and bought three violets — one white, one pink, one purple.
At home she placed them on the windowsill, watered them, and sat beside them. Sunlight slipped through the leaves.
Her phone vibrated. It was a message from a coworker: “We’re going to the movies tonight. Want to come?”
Before, Anna would have said no. Sergey never liked it when she went out in the evening.
She typed back: “I’ll come.”
That evening she sat by the window with a cup of tea. The violets on the sill seemed to glow in the fading light. Outside, the city lights were coming on.
She never told her supposedly paralyzed mother-in-law about the cameras. She stayed quiet, watched, gathered proof, and only then showed everything to her husband.
But by then it was too late. Trust does not come back.
Anna understood that the night he apologized. What she heard was not love. It was guilt. And she let him go.
Because she deserved someone who would believe her without needing video evidence. Someone who would choose her, not his mother. Someone who loved her, not merely felt sorry for her.
She finished her tea and went to bed.
In her own apartment. In her own life.
And for the first time in months, she fell asleep peacefully.
Without fear. Without cameras. Without lies.
