Marina stood by the window, looking out at the evening courtyard. The playground was emptying. The last child, bundled in a blue jacket, reluctantly followed his mother toward the entrance of the apartment building.
The phone on the table vibrated. Anton.
“Hi,” her fiancé said, his voice tense. “Are you busy?”
“No.” Marina stepped away from the window. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened. I just wanted to talk about Saturday again.”
Marina sat down on the edge of the sofa. This was already the third conversation about Saturday that week. She waited patiently while Anton gathered his thoughts.
“Mom is very nervous,” he finally said. “It’s important to her.”
“I understand,” Marina replied gently. “I already agreed to help.”
“Yes, but…” He hesitated. “She asked me to send you a grocery list. She wants you to choose the ingredients yourself. She says that way she can test your taste.”
“Test my taste,” Marina repeated flatly.
“Don’t be offended. She just wants to get to know you better.”
Marina held back a sigh. She loved Anton. She loved his softness, his kindness, the way he could listen. But sometimes that softness turned into spinelessness.
“All right. Send me the list.”
“Thank you, Marina. You’re the best.”
She put the phone down and leaned back against the sofa. Outside the window, rain began to fall. Drops tapped against the glass in an uneven rhythm.
A minute later, the message arrived. The list was long. Marina scrolled through it and frowned. Red fish, caviar, blue cheese, three kinds of olives. It did not look like a modest gathering for three elderly friends.
Her phone vibrated again. This time it was Alina calling.
“Well?” her sister began without saying hello. “Is this about Saturday again?”
“How do you know?”
“You have that voice. A very specific one.”
Marina smiled despite herself. Alina always knew how to read her mood.
“He sent me the grocery list. Want to see it?”
“Send it.”
Marina forwarded the message. A few seconds of silence followed.
“This is for three guests?” Alina asked skeptically.
“For four, including his mother.”
“Marina, this is enough food for a banquet. Are you sure this is just a small gathering?”
“That’s what Anton said.”
“Anton says a lot of things.”
Marina rubbed the bridge of her nose. She did not want to argue with her sister.
“Alina, I already agreed. I’m not going to back out now.”
“I’m not telling you to back out. I’m telling you to be careful.”
“I will.”
“And if something goes wrong, leave immediately. Don’t tolerate it.”
“All right.”
“Promise?”
Marina was silent for a second.
“I promise.”
She hung up and looked through the list again. Then she opened the calculator on her phone. The total came out to a serious amount.
The next day, Marina met Katya at a café. Her friend was already sitting by the window, stirring her latte.
“Tell me everything,” Katya said, pointing to the chair across from her.
“You already know the situation.”
“I know. But I want to hear it again. With details.”
Marina sat down and ordered tea. Then she took out her phone and showed Katya the grocery list.
“This is for three guests,” she explained.
Katya whistled softly.
“Those pensioners live well.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Listen,” Katya leaned closer, “maybe this is a more serious test than you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at it. She wants to test how you cook. That’s one thing. How you serve guests. That’s another. And most importantly, how you react to her demands.”
“You think she’s raising the bar on purpose?”
“Possibly. To see whether you’ll break or not.”
Marina took a sip of tea. It was hot and smelled of bergamot.
“So what should I do?”
“Pass the test.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. Show her you’re not simple. Show her you can cook, serve, smile. And then, once the wedding happens, you set your boundaries.”
“I don’t like that logic.”
“Neither do I. But that’s life, Marina. Mothers-in-law are different. Yours is controlling. You need to learn how to deal with her.”
“And what if I don’t want to deal with her under those conditions?”
Katya shrugged.
“Then talk to Anton. Directly. Tell him how you feel.”
“I tried.”
“And?”
“He makes excuses. Says his mother is a good person, just difficult. Says I need to be patient until she gets used to me.”
“Classic,” Katya leaned back in her chair. “A mama’s boy.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“What should I call him? He chooses his mother over you every time.”
Marina said nothing. There was a bitter truth in her friend’s words.
“All right,” Katya softened. “I won’t push. You’ll figure it out yourself. Just know I’m on your side.”
“Thank you.”
“And if you need backup on Saturday, call me. I’ll come and make a scene.”
Marina laughed despite herself.
“That probably won’t help.”
“But it will be fun.”
On Friday evening, Marina went grocery shopping. The store was large, with high ceilings and bright lighting. She went through the list methodically, choosing the best of everything.
Red fish — fresh, from the refrigerated section by the wall. Caviar — in a small jar with a pretty label. Cheese — three kinds, exactly as requested. Olives — imported, in glass jars.
At the register, the total was even higher than she had expected. Marina paid with her own card. Anton had promised to pay her back, but she already knew he would not. He would forget. Or pretend to forget.
At home, she arranged the groceries on the refrigerator shelves. Then she sat in the kitchen for a long time, staring at the wall.
Her mother had died three years earlier. Her father lived in another city, and they rarely saw each other. Alina was close, but seven years younger — more someone Marina looked after than someone she leaned on.
Marina was used to handling things herself. Making decisions. Carrying responsibility.
And now she was being offered the role of a servant.
She took out her phone and wrote to Anton: “I bought the groceries. I’ll be there tomorrow at twelve.”
The reply came immediately: “You’re amazing! Mom will be happy.”
Marina put the phone away and turned off the kitchen light.
Saturday began with sunshine. Bright rays pushed through the curtains, drawing stripes across the floor. Marina woke early, took a shower, and carefully chose her outfit.
A simple dress — not too elegant, not too plain. Comfortable shoes — in case she had to spend a lot of time on her feet. Minimal jewelry — earrings and a thin chain.
She examined herself critically in the mirror. She looked calm and composed. Exactly the way she wanted.
At eleven thirty, Marina left home. The grocery bags pulled heavily at her arms. A taxi waited by the entrance.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna lived in an old neighborhood, in a brick building with high ceilings. Marina climbed to the third floor and rang the doorbell.
The hostess opened the door herself. She was a woman of about sixty, short and full-figured, with a neat hairstyle. Behind her glasses, her eyes seemed enlarged and unnaturally watchful.
“So you’ve arrived,” Lyudmila Sergeyevna stated instead of greeting her. “Come in.”
Marina stepped into the hallway. The apartment smelled of old things and lavender.
“Take off your shoes. Slippers are in the closet.”
“Good afternoon, Lyudmila Sergeyevna.”
“Yes, yes. Hello. Did you bring the groceries?”
“Yes, here.”
Marina handed over the bags. Her future mother-in-law glanced through the contents and pursed her lips.
“Is the fish frozen?”
“No, it’s fresh. Chilled.”
“We’ll see.”
Lyudmila Sergeyevna headed toward the kitchen. Marina followed.
The kitchen was spacious but cluttered. The shelves were packed with dishes from every era — from Soviet crystal vases to modern plastic containers. Piles of newspapers and magazines lay on the table.
“Move those somewhere,” her future mother-in-law said, pointing at the papers. “They’re in the way.”
Marina picked up the stack and looked around.
“Where should I put them?”
“In the hallway. On the little cabinet.”
Marina carried the papers away and returned. Lyudmila Sergeyevna was already taking pots and pans out of the cupboards.
“Here’s what you’ll do,” she began commanding. “Clean the fish and bake it. Do you know how to bake fish?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll see. You’ll make salad. Three kinds: Olivier, Greek, and crab stick salad.”
“Three salads?”
“What’s wrong? Are your hands growing from the wrong place?”
Marina held back a sigh.
“No. I’m just clarifying.”
“Good. Caviar sandwiches go on the round platter in the cabinet. And set the table in the living room. The tablecloth is in the dresser, top drawer.”
“All right.”
“The guests will arrive at three. Everything must be ready by then.”
Marina looked at the clock. Twelve fifteen. Less than three hours to do everything.
“Will Anton be here?”
“Anton is busy,” Lyudmila Sergeyevna snapped. “He has things to do.”
“What things?”
“That is none of your business.”
Marina froze. The phrase sounded sharp, almost crude.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Fewer questions, more work. Anton is my son. I decide what he does.”
Marina felt a wave of irritation rise inside her. But she swallowed it. Katya had advised her to endure it. To see how everything would turn out.
“All right,” she said evenly. “I’ll start cooking.”
Lyudmila Sergeyevna nodded and left the kitchen.
The next two hours Marina spent by the stove. She cleaned the fish, chopped vegetables, mixed salads. The work was familiar — she loved cooking and did it well.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna periodically appeared in the kitchen. She checked, commented, criticized.
“You’re cutting the fish too thick.”
“The cucumbers are uneven.”
“Not enough mayonnaise.”
Marina silently corrected everything. She did not argue. She did not snap back.
By half past two, everything was ready. The table in the living room was covered with a white tablecloth. The dishes were arranged symmetrically. The caviar sandwiches gleamed with an oily shine.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna inspected the result.
“It’ll do,” she said without enthusiasm.
Marina remained silent. She was tired, but proud of her work. The table looked festive and beautiful.
“Now go change,” her future mother-in-law said, pointing toward the hallway. “In Anton’s room, you’ll find an apron.”
“An apron?”
“You’re not planning to serve in that dress, are you? You’ll stain it.”
Marina exhaled slowly.
“Lyudmila Sergeyevna, we agreed that I would help set the table. The table is set.”
“We agreed that you would help me with the guests. The guests are not here yet.”
“But—”
“No buts. Anton said you agreed. So go put on the apron.”
Something inside Marina tightened. Something cold and hard.
“All right,” she said. “But first I’ll call Anton.”
“Why?”
“To clarify the details.”
Lyudmila Sergeyevna snorted.
“Clarify, then. But quickly. The guests will be here soon.”
Marina stepped into the hallway and dialed her fiancé. He answered on the third ring.
“Hi! How’s it going?”
“Anton, your mother wants me to put on an apron and serve her guests.”
A pause.
“Well… that’s not so terrible, is it?”
“You told me I was just helping set the table.”
“Yes, but… Mom slightly expanded the plan.”
“Slightly?”
“Marina, don’t turn this into a problem. It’s only a couple of hours.”
“You promised you would be here.”
“I’m busy. Sorry.”
“With what?”
“Things.”
“What things, Anton?”
He hesitated.
“I’m meeting a friend. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
Marina closed her eyes and counted to five.
“You sent me to serve your mother while you went to enjoy yourself with a friend?”
“It’s not enjoyment. It’s an important meeting.”
“More important than me?”
“Marina, don’t start. You know how worried Mom is about this gathering. Help her. For me.”
Lyudmila Sergeyevna appeared in the doorway of the living room. She tapped her finger pointedly against her wrist.
“I have to go,” Marina said into the phone.
“You’ll manage. I believe in you.”
“Thank you for your faith.”
She ended the call and looked at his mother.
“The apron,” Lyudmila Sergeyevna reminded her.
Marina silently walked past her into Anton’s room.
The guests arrived exactly at three. Three women around the same age — sixty to sixty-five. All wore dressy outfits, styled hair, and makeup.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna greeted them in the hallway.
“Valechka, darling! I’m so glad!”
“Lyuda, you look wonderful!”
“And who is this?” one of the guests asked, pointing at Marina, who stood off to the side.
“My daughter-in-law. Future daughter-in-law.”
“Ah, that one? So Anton finally plans to settle down?”
“We’ll see,” Lyudmila Sergeyevna smiled meaningfully. “For now, they are only engaged. A lot can change before the wedding.”
Marina felt a sting. The phrase sounded like a threat.
The guests went into the living room. They sat down at the table, gasping and praising it.
“What a table! Lyuda, you’ve outdone yourself!”
“It wasn’t me,” her future mother-in-law said modestly, lowering her eyes. “My daughter-in-law made an effort.”
“Really? What a clever girl!”
“We’ll see how clever she is. So far, she can only cook. What else she can do remains unknown.”
The guests laughed. Marina stood by the wall with a tray in her hands.
“Young lady,” one of the guests said to her, “could you please bring more water?”
“Of course.”
Marina went to the kitchen. She filled a pitcher with water and returned.
“Thank you, dear. Do you work for Lyudmila?”
“No, I…”
“She is my son’s fiancée,” Lyudmila Sergeyevna interrupted. “But she has not yet earned a place at the table. First, let her prove herself.”
The silence at the table became awkward. One of the guests — the woman who had asked for water — coughed uncomfortably.
“Lyuda, maybe let the girl sit down? This feels uncomfortable.”
“What is uncomfortable is when a son marries just anyone. But when a daughter-in-law learns the rules, that is proper.”
Marina placed the pitcher on the table. Her hands trembled slightly.
“Lyudmila Sergeyevna,” she said quietly, “may I speak with you privately?”
“No time. Can’t you see the guests are waiting? Bring the hot dish.”
Marina went back to the kitchen. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
She could hear voices from the living room. Laughter. The clinking of glasses.
“Where is Nastya?” someone asked.
“Nastya is busy,” Lyudmila Sergeyevna replied. “She has important things to do.”
“What a pity. I haven’t seen her in a long time. She’s grown into such a beauty.”
“Yes, Nastenka is my pride. Unlike some people.”
More laughter.
Marina took out her phone and wrote to Alina: “This is hell.”
The answer came instantly: “What happened?”
“She’s making me serve them. Literally. The guests think I’m a housekeeper.”
“Leave. Right now.”
“I can’t. Anton will be offended.”
“What does Anton have to do with it? Did he leave you there alone?”
“Yes.”
“Marina, leave. This is humiliation.”
Marina did not have time to answer. Lyudmila Sergeyevna appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“What are you doing here? The guests are waiting for the fish.”
“I’m bringing it now.”
She put the phone away, picked up the platter with the fish, and returned to the living room.
“Oh, how beautiful!” the guests murmured approvingly.
“Did she make it herself?” one of them asked, pointing at Marina.
“Herself. Under my guidance, of course.”
“Lyuda, you are a strict hostess.”
“I am fair. Young people must learn. They’ve become spoiled — they want everything at once.”
“That’s true! My daughter-in-law can’t even fry eggs.”
“You see? Mine can. If forced.”
Marina placed portions of fish onto the plates. Her hands moved automatically. Inside, everything was tightening from anger and shame.
“Young lady,” another guest asked her, “how long have you and Anton been together?”
“A year and a half.”
“And when is the wedding?”
“In spring,” Lyudmila Sergeyevna answered for her. “If, of course, the bride passes all her tests.”
“What tests?”
“Well, you can see for yourselves. Today is the first one. We’ll see how she handles it.”
The guests exchanged glances. One of them — the same Valya who had suggested Marina sit down — looked uncomfortable.
“Lyuda, I think this is a little…”
“A little what?”
“Old-fashioned. The girl is grown, educated. Why these tests?”
“Because, Valya, my son is not just anyone. He deserves the best wife. And I must make sure she is the best.”
“And if you’re not convinced?”
“Then there will be no wedding.”
The silence at the table grew thick. Marina felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to step out.”
She locked herself in the bathroom. She turned on the water. Then she looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Red eyes. Lips pressed into a thin line. The apron stained with sauce.
Her phone vibrated. Alina.
“What is going on?” her sister asked, alarmed.
“She told the guests there would be no wedding if I didn’t pass her tests.”
“What?!”
“I’m not joking. In front of everyone. Three women were looking at me like I was hired help.”
“Marina, leave that place. Right now.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because that would mean she won.”
“She has already won! You’re standing in her kitchen wearing an apron and serving them!”
Marina closed her eyes. Alina was right. Of course she was right.
“All right,” she said. “But I’ll leave my own way.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll find out.”
She ended the call and looked at herself in the mirror again. Then she took off the apron. Carefully folded it and placed it on the washing machine.
She stepped into the hallway. Walked past the living room, where lively conversation continued. Then she entered Anton’s room.
On the desk stood a photograph — Anton with his arm around his mother. Both smiling. Both happy.
Marina picked up the frame and looked at the picture for several seconds. Then she placed it back.
She took out her phone and called Anton.
“Hi! How’s everything?”
“Come here,” she said coldly. “Now.”
“What happened?”
“Your mother is humiliating me in front of her friends. She calls me a servant. She says there will be no wedding if I don’t pass her tests.”
A pause.
“She didn’t say that.”
“I heard it with my own ears.”
“Marina, you’re exaggerating.”
“Come and check.”
“I can’t. I’m with my friend.”
“Anton, I am standing in your mother’s apartment while she publicly humiliates me. Are you coming or not?”
A long silence.
“Marina, don’t dramatize. Mom just wants you to…”
Marina ended the call.
She was done waiting.
Marina walked into the living room. The guests turned toward her. Lyudmila Sergeyevna frowned.
“Where have you been? The dirty dishes won’t wash themselves.”
“Lyudmila Sergeyevna,” Marina said calmly, “I want to thank you for today. It has been very revealing.”
“What?” her future mother-in-law narrowed her eyes.
“I saw how you treat people. Me, in particular. And I realized we will never be family.”
Silence. The guests froze with forks in their hands.
“What are you talking about?” Lyudmila Sergeyevna’s voice turned cold.
“I’m talking about the fact that you didn’t invite me here to get to know me. You invited me here to humiliate me. To show your friends that your son found an obedient fool you can order around the kitchen.”
“How dare you…”
“I dare because I have the right to be treated with respect. You called me a servant. In front of your guests. In front of me. You said I was not worthy of sitting at the table. That there would be no wedding if I didn’t pass your tests.”
One of the guests coughed.
“Lyuda, is that true?”
“She’s exaggerating!”
“No,” another guest interrupted — the same Valya. “I heard it. Lyuda, you really were harsh.”
“Valentina, whose side are you on?”
“The side of common sense. The girl is an adult. You cannot treat her like this.”
“You can if she wants to enter my family!”
“I no longer want to,” Marina said quietly.
Everyone turned to her.
“What did you say?” Lyudmila Sergeyevna went pale.
“I said I no longer want to enter your family. There will be no wedding.”
“You cannot decide that!”
“I can. And I am.”
“And Anton? What will Anton say?”
“Ask him yourself. He is with a friend. Enjoying himself while I stand here in an apron.”
Lyudmila Sergeyevna jumped up from the table.
“You… you…” she choked with anger. “Who do you think you are? A girl with no family, no background! Do you think my son won’t find someone else?”
“I’m sure he will. I wish her patience.”
Marina turned and walked toward the door.
“Stop!” Lyudmila Sergeyevna shouted. “Where are you going? What about the dishes? What about cleaning?”
“You can wash the dishes yourself. Or ask Nastya to help. She is your pride, after all.”
“Nastya is busy!”
“Then manage however you like.”
Marina opened the door and stepped out onto the landing. Behind her, one of the guests said:
“Lyuda, you went too far. The girl is right.”
“Shut up, Valentina! This is my home!”
“Yes, your home. And your family. The one you just destroyed.”
Marina walked down the stairs without looking back.
Outside, it was cold. The autumn sun was already setting, and the wind cut through her clothes.
Her phone rang. Anton.
“Marina, what have you done?! Mom is hysterical!”
“Your mother humiliated me for three hours. And you didn’t even come.”
“I told you, I was busy!”
“You were with your friend. While I cooked, set the table, served people, and listened to insults.”
“They weren’t insults! Mom is just strict!”
“She called me a girl with no family and no background. That is not strictness, Anton. That is contempt.”
A pause.
“Did you really cancel the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Because of one evening?”
“Because you chose your mother. Not me.”
“I didn’t choose anyone!”
“You did. Every time you defended her instead of me. Every time you excused her behavior. Today you could have come. You could have stood on my side. But you stayed with your friend.”
“Marina, that’s unfair…”
“It is very fair. Goodbye, Anton.”
“Wait! Let’s talk! I’ll come!”
“No need. I’ve already made my decision.”
“You can’t do this!”
“I can. And I am.”
She ended the call and blocked his number.
The phone rang again. An unknown number. Lyudmila Sergeyevna.
Marina rejected the call and blocked that number too.
Then she called Alina.
“I left,” she said.
“Thank God. Where are you?”
“Outside. Near her building.”
“I’m coming to get you. Stay there.”
“Thank you.”
“Marina…”
“Yes?”
“I’m proud of you.”
Marina smiled. For the first time all day.
“Thank you,” she repeated.
Alina arrived twenty minutes later. Her old Toyota stopped by the curb, and her sister jumped out.
“How are you?”
“Fine. Angry, but fine.”
“Get in the car. You’ll freeze.”
They got inside. Alina turned on the heater.
“Tell me everything,” she demanded.
Marina told her. Everything from the beginning. The grocery list. The apron. The humiliating comments. The conversation with Anton. The final scene.
Alina listened silently, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
“I hate her,” she finally said.
“Lyudmila Sergeyevna?”
“Her too. But Anton even more. He knew what would happen. And he still sent you there.”
“You think he knew?”
“Of course he knew. Why do you think he didn’t come himself? He was afraid of getting caught in the crossfire.”
Marina thought about it. Her sister’s words made sense.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I am right. He’s a coward. Always has been.”
“You barely know him.”
“I know how he behaves with you. That’s enough.”
They fell silent. Outside the window, cars rushed past, each one heading somewhere.
“What now?” Alina asked.
“Now I move forward. Without him.”
“Can you handle it?”
“I can.”
“I’m here. Whatever happens.”
“I know.”
Alina started the engine.
“Let’s go home. I’ll make you tea.”
“With cognac?”
“With whatever you want.”
Marina leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.
It hurt. But the pain was clean — without any doubt mixed into it. She had made the right decision. And she had made it herself.
The week passed strangely. Sometimes Marina buried herself in work. Sometimes she sat by the window, staring out at the street. Her phone remained silent — the blocked numbers could not get through.
Katya came on the third day.
“I heard the news,” she said from the doorway. “The whole neighborhood is buzzing.”
“What are they saying?”
“That you left Anton right in the middle of his mother’s gathering. And made a scandal.”
“I didn’t make a scandal. I just told the truth.”
“For them, that’s the same thing.”
They sat in the kitchen. Katya turned her cup in her hands.
“Marina, I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“For my advice. I told you to be patient, not to make any sudden moves. And you were patient — and they humiliated you.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I could have. I knew what she was like. Everyone knew. But I thought maybe she would be different with you.”
“She wasn’t.”
“No, she wasn’t.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“Has Anton called?” Katya asked.
“From other numbers. I don’t answer.”
“What does he want?”
“Probably to explain himself. Or get me back. I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”
“That’s right.”
“You really think so?”
Katya looked her in the eyes.
“Marina, I watched you with him for a year and a half. You were always adjusting. Giving in. Enduring. And him? He took it for granted. Not once did he stand on your side.”
“I hoped he would change.”
“People don’t change. Especially those who are comfortable staying the way they are.”
Marina nodded. She understood it herself now — now that the fog had lifted.
On Friday, Nastya called. The number was unfamiliar, and Marina answered out of habit.
“This is Nastya. Anton’s sister. Please don’t hang up.”
“I’m listening.”
“I wanted to apologize.”
Marina had not expected that.
“For what?”
“For Mom. For the way she treated you. It was disgusting.”
“You weren’t there.”
“Mom’s friends told me. Valentina Petrovna called and said she had never seen anything like it. She said Mom behaved like the owner of serfs.”
Marina gave a faint smile. The comparison was accurate.
“Why are you calling? We barely know each other.”
“Because I’m ashamed. Of my family. Of my brother. Of the fact that he abandoned you.”
“He didn’t abandon me. He just didn’t come.”
“That is abandoning you. When you needed support, he wasn’t there.”
Marina was silent.
“Nastya, I appreciate your call. But it doesn’t change anything.”
“I know. I just wanted you to know that not everyone in our family is like that.”
“Thank you.”
“Good luck, Marina. You deserve better.”
“Thank you,” Marina repeated.
She put the phone down and stared at it for a long time. It was a strange feeling — receiving support from the other side.
Anton appeared on Sunday. No warning, no call. He simply rang the doorbell. Marina looked through the peephole and did not open.
“Marina, I know you’re home,” he said through the door. “Please, talk to me.”
“Talk like this. I can hear you.”
A pause.
“Open the door. This is strange, talking through a door.”
“I’m comfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s not my problem.”
He sighed.
“Marina, I was wrong. I admit it. I should have come, should have protected you. But I was scared.”
“What were you scared of?”
“Mom. Her reaction. You don’t know what she’s like when she gets angry.”
“Now I do.”
“I didn’t want it to turn out this way.”
“But it did.”
“I can fix everything.”
Marina leaned her back against the door.
“How will you fix it, Anton? Your mother publicly humiliated me. Called me a servant. Said I was not worthy of your family.”
“She lost her temper.”
“She said what she thinks.”
“Marina…”
“Anton, I cooked for three hours, set the table, served guests. For three hours, I listened to comments about how clumsy and useless I was. And you didn’t even come.”
“I apologized!”
“An apology changes nothing. I saw who you really are. A man who hides behind his mother.”
“That’s unfair.”
“That’s the truth.”
Silence. She could hear him breathing on the other side of the door.
“So it’s over?” he finally asked.
“Yes.”
“Just like that? A year and a half, and that’s it?”
“For a year and a half, I closed my eyes. Now I’ve opened them.”
“You’re not even giving me a chance.”
“You already had your chance. On Saturday. When you could have come and stood beside me. But you chose your friend.”
“That was one time!”
“One time is enough to understand that it will always be like this. Every time I need support, you’ll find an excuse. Work, friends, tiredness. And I’ll be standing alone.”
“I’ll change.”
“You won’t. You’ve lived under your mother’s wing for thirty years. She decides everything for you — what to eat, what to wear, whom to marry. You won’t change until you want to. And you don’t want to.”
“How do you know what I want?”
“I know because I saw it. For a year and a half.”
He fell silent. It was quiet behind the door.
“Goodbye, Anton,” Marina said.
“Marina…”
“Goodbye.”
She stepped away from the door and heard his footsteps fade down the stairs.
That evening, Marina sat on the balcony with a cup of tea. The wind was cold, but she wrapped herself in a blanket and looked at the city lights.
Her phone rang. Alina.
“Hi. How are you?”
“Better.”
“Did Anton come?”
“He did. I didn’t open.”
“Well done.”
“We talked through the door. He apologized.”
“And?”
“Nothing. I told him it was over.”
“How did he take it?”
“He was upset. But he left.”
“Good.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“Marina, I’m proud of you.”
“For what?”
“For not breaking. For not tolerating it. Many women in your place would have swallowed it, stayed quiet, accepted it. But you didn’t.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“There is always a choice. You chose yourself.”
Marina smiled.
“Thank you, Alina.”
“For what?”
“For supporting me. For being there.”
“I’ll always be there. You know that.”
“I know.”
She ended the call and looked at the city again.
Lights shimmered in the darkness. People hurried along the streets, each with their own problems, joys, and hopes. Marina was no longer part of the story with Anton. That chapter was closed.
But new ones waited ahead.
She finished her tea, shivered from the cold, and went back inside.
On the table lay the books she had long wanted to read. Beside them was a notebook with plans for the coming month. Life went on.
And she was ready to live it by her own rules.
A month later, Marina ran into Valentina Petrovna — the very guest who had tried to defend her. They met at the checkout line in a store.
“Marinochka?” the woman recognized her immediately. “You’re Marina, aren’t you?”
“Yes, hello.”
“How are you? How have you been?”
“I’m well. Thank you.”
Valentina Petrovna lowered her voice.
“I wanted to say… that day, at the gathering… I felt very uncomfortable. Because of Lyuda. Because of that whole performance.”
“I understand.”
“You did the right thing by leaving. Lyuda raged for a long time afterward, called everyone, complained to everyone. But we all told her she had only herself to blame.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Zinaida Pavlovna no longer visits her at all. She said she cannot respect a person who treats people like that.”
Marina smiled involuntarily.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“No, thank you. For your courage. Not every woman would have dared.”
“Sometimes there is no other way.”
“That’s true.”
They said goodbye. Marina left the store with a light heart.
She had made the right choice.
And now she knew it for certain.
