Elena slowly moved the phone away from her ear and looked at Sergey.
Her husband was sitting across from her at a small café table, holding a fork in his hand. From the look on his wife’s face, he already knew exactly who was calling. He did not even ask. He simply covered his eyes with his hand and let out a quiet sigh.
“Galina Nikolaevna, we really aren’t home,” Elena answered calmly. “We’re on the other side of the city.”
“How interesting,” her mother-in-law’s voice turned thin and offended. “And I’m almost there already.”
Elena tightened her grip on the phone.
“You didn’t let us know you were coming.”
“So now I have to make an appointment to see my own son?” Galina Nikolaevna snapped. “How convenient. You bought an apartment, installed a door, and now his mother is left standing outside.”
Sergey raised his eyes. His face took on that expression Elena had learned to recognize in every detail over the past few months: he was ashamed, uncomfortable, but still not quite ready to step in.
“Mom,” he finally said louder, leaning toward the phone. “We can’t today.”
There was silence on the other end. Then his mother spoke in an icy voice.
“So you can’t. I see. I only wanted to bring you something useful. But since I’ve become unnecessary, I’ll go back home.”
“Mom, don’t start,” Sergey rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“I’m not starting anything. You started it when you decided I was a stranger.”
Elena turned off the speakerphone, brought the phone to her ear, and said in a very even voice:
“Galina Nikolaevna, if you want to visit, you need to agree on a time with us in advance. We’ve already told you that.”
“Oh, how official!” her mother-in-law gave a short laugh. “As if I’m calling some institution.”
“Not an institution. Someone else’s home.”
Sergey sharply lifted his head. Elena herself was surprised by how calmly those words came out. Not angry, not rude, but as if she had finally said something obvious.
Through the phone came the noise of the road. Her mother-in-law was probably sitting in a taxi and did not immediately know what to say.
“Someone else’s, then,” she repeated slowly. “Fine. I’ll remember that.”
The call ended.
Elena placed the phone on the table and only then realized she had barely been breathing for the last half-minute. Sergey was looking at her in confusion.
“Why did you say that?”
“Say what?”
“Well… ‘someone else’s home.’”
Elena put her fork down.
“And whose home is it, Seryozha?”
“Ours.”
“Exactly. Yours and mine. Not a passageway, not a showroom, and not a place where someone can show up with friends without warning.”
Sergey wanted to object, but he stayed silent.
Because they both knew perfectly well how it had all begun.
Galina Nikolaevna had never been an evil woman. Loud, yes. Extremely self-assured, absolutely. Convinced that she knew better than everyone else how to live, what to buy, when to rest, and whom to invite, without a doubt. But it was hard to call her evil.
When Elena had first married Sergey, her mother-in-law had even seemed amusing. She could come over with a bag of mandarins, stay for dinner, tell three stories about her neighbor Lida, and leave after kissing her son on the top of his head as if he were seven years old instead of thirty-four.
At first Elena smiled. Then she got used to it. Then she endured it. And then one Sunday morning, she suddenly caught herself not enjoying her day off, but listening for the sound of the elevator in the hallway.
Galina Nikolaevna came often. Sometimes she warned them beforehand.
“I’ll stop by on Saturday,” she would say in a tone that sounded less like a question and more like a weather forecast.
If Sergey replied that they were busy, his mother would get offended.
“So you’re busy. And your mother, I suppose, is always supposed to be free. Fine.”
And an hour later, she could still appear at the door.
At first she came with containers of food. Then with bags of unnecessary things. Then simply because she felt like it.
“I won’t stay long,” she would say, walking straight into the kitchen.
Her “not long” easily turned into four hours.
Elena worked as a shoe restoration specialist in a small workshop. Her work required patience and precision: leather, suede, paint, hardware, orders, deadlines. At home, she wanted quiet.
Sometimes she brought small tasks home with her: tinting a strap, replacing a decorative detail, preparing an item for pickup. But with her mother-in-law around, it was impossible to concentrate.
“Lenochka, why are you always fussing over that? They’re only shoes, not holy icons you’re restoring.”
“It’s a client’s order.”
“Oh, clients can wait. You’d be better off making Sergey a proper dinner.”
Elena would look up. Sergey usually smiled guiltily at moments like that.
“Mom, come on, stop it.”
And that was all.
He never said anything stronger. Always “stop it,” “that’s enough,” “don’t start.” Just enough to seem as if he was defending his wife, but not enough to upset his mother.
For a long time Elena convinced herself these were small things.
Until one day Galina Nikolaevna arrived with two friends.
It was a weekday. Elena had come home from the workshop earlier than usual because one order had fallen through. She planned to sort her materials, take a shower, and quietly make dinner. Sergey was supposed to arrive closer to evening.
The doorbell rang insistently.
Elena looked through the peephole and saw her mother-in-law. Beside her stood two women about her age. One was holding a box of chocolates, the other was adjusting a bright scarf around her neck.
Elena did not open the door immediately.
“Oh, finally!” Galina Nikolaevna stepped inside with such confidence that it was as if permission had already been granted. “Girls, come in. This is our apartment.”
Elena did not even understand at first what was happening.
“Hello,” she said automatically, stepping aside.
“What a spacious hallway,” one of the friends said admiringly. “Galya, you weren’t exaggerating.”
“What did I tell you?” her mother-in-law beamed. “My Seryozhka did well. Everything for the home, everything for the family.”
Elena slowly closed the door.
“Galina Nikolaevna, why didn’t you warn me?”
“We were nearby! I told the girls, ‘Do you want me to show you how my son lives?’ They’ve been asking for ages.”
The friends had already taken off their shoes and were looking around the corridor with curiosity.
On Elena’s worktable in the living room lay clients’ orders: neatly arranged pieces of leather, tools, tubes of paint, labeled bags. She had not had time to put anything away.
Galina Nikolaevna entered first.
“This is their living room. Lenochka sometimes fixes her shoes here,” she said condescendingly, as if talking about a child’s hobby.
“I don’t fix them. I restore them,” Elena corrected dryly.
“Oh, what’s the difference?” her mother-in-law waved it off.
One of the friends picked up a small metal buckle from the table.
“What’s this?”
Elena quickly walked over and took the part from her hand.
“That belongs to a client’s order. Please don’t touch anything.”
The woman looked embarrassed, while Galina Nikolaevna frowned with displeasure.
“Lena, why are you acting like a prison guard? People are just looking.”
“They are looking at my work materials without my permission.”
An awkward silence fell over the room.
But her mother-in-law recovered quickly.
“Let’s go look at the kitchen instead. They have a good kitchen set. I told Sergey right away to choose a light-colored one.”
Elena stood in the middle of the room and felt her palms grow damp from holding back irritation.
She did not shout. She did not make a scene.
But something inside her had already clicked.
When Sergey came home that evening, his wife did not wait.
“Your mother brought two friends today to show them our apartment.”
He froze in the entryway.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly that. Without warning. Like a tour.”
Sergey took off his jacket, hung it up, and looked at his wife guiltily.
“She messed up, of course…”
“Messed up? Seryozha, she walked people through our apartment.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“No. We’ll talk to her together. And there will be one rule: all visits must be agreed on in advance.”
Sergey winced.
“She’ll be offended.”
Elena nodded.
“And I’m already offended.”
That evening they had their first serious fight because of Galina Nikolaevna.
Sergey said his mother did not mean any harm, that she was simply that kind of person, that she had no other joys, that after his father’s death she had become too attached to her son.
Elena listened for a long time. Then she asked:
“And what am I supposed to become attached to? The doorbell?”
Sergey fell silent.
The next day he did speak to his mother. The conversation was short and unpleasant. Galina Nikolaevna declared that she had been humiliated, made out to be some shameless intruder, and that now her son apparently found it easier to forget who had raised him.
For several weeks she did not visit.
But she called.
Sometimes Sergey. Sometimes Elena. Sometimes at the worst possible moment.
“I just wanted to know if you were still alive over there.”
“I thought maybe you were sick. Since you don’t invite your mother anymore.”
“It’s all right. I’ll get used to sitting alone.”
Each time, Elena answered evenly.
Sergey grew nervous, made excuses, sometimes promised to go see his mother, sometimes asked his wife to be softer.
“She’s having a hard time adjusting.”
“Seryozha, she’s not rearranging furniture. She just needs to call in advance and accept the answer.”
“To her, it looks like she’s being pushed aside.”
“And to me, it looks like my home has finally stopped depending on her moods.”
Sergey tiredly rubbed his face with both hands. He wanted everything to somehow work itself out.
But nothing worked itself out.
That evening, when his mother called from the taxi, Elena and Sergey had gone out together to a café for the first time in a long while. For no special reason. Simply because they were both tired, and neither of them wanted to sit at home discussing the leaking tap, bills, and Galina Nikolaevna’s offended phone calls again.
After the call, the mood was ruined.
Sergey finished eating almost in silence. Elena looked out the window at the passersby and understood that this story would not end with one conversation.
She was right.
The next morning, Galina Nikolaevna came to their apartment. No taxi call, no warning, no arrangement.
Elena opened the door because she was expecting a courier with materials for work.
Her mother-in-law stood on the doorstep with a small bag in her hand.
“Good morning,” she said with exaggerated politeness. “I’m here for five minutes. Since I’m now required to report myself, I’m reporting: I’ve arrived.”
Elena did not step aside.
“Galina Nikolaevna, Sergey is at work.”
“I didn’t come only for Sergey. I came for you too.”
“I have an order right now.”
“That’s all right. I’ll be quick.”
Her mother-in-law tried to enter, but Elena remained standing in the doorway.
Galina Nikolaevna raised her eyebrows.
“You’re not going to let me in?”
Elena looked at the bag in her hand.
“Can you tell me why you came?”
“Wonderful,” her mother-in-law nodded to herself. “Now I’m being interrogated at the threshold.”
She took a plastic container out of the bag.
“I brought cutlets. Seryozha likes them.”
“Thank you. I’ll give them to him.”
Elena took the container but did not move from her spot.
Galina Nikolaevna stared at her for several seconds. Her cheeks flushed, her lips trembled, but she restrained herself.
“So this is how it is now.”
“I have work,” Elena repeated.
“She has work. And I suppose I have all the time in the world.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You showed it.”
Her mother-in-law abruptly turned and walked toward the elevator.
Elena did not close the door right away. She stood in the hallway with the container in her hands and, for the first time in a long while, did not feel guilty.
Only tired.
That evening Sergey came home irritated.
“Mom said you didn’t let her in.”
“That’s right.”
“Lena…”
“She came without warning.”
“She brought cutlets.”
“Seryozha, holding a container in your hands is not an entry pass into the apartment.”
He went into the kitchen, poured himself water, and drank it almost in one gulp.
“You could have let her in for five minutes.”
“And then she would have sat here for an hour. Then she would have said I didn’t even offer her tea. Then you would have called and asked me to be more patient.”
Sergey noisily placed the glass on the table.
“She’s my mother.”
Elena turned toward him.
“And I’m your wife. And I live here every day.”
The words hung between them, heavy and unpleasant.
Sergey looked away first.
Two days later, Galina Nikolaevna chose another tactic.
She stopped calling Elena and started calling the downstairs neighbor, Larisa Petrovna, whom she had met during one of her visits.
Larisa Petrovna was talkative and curious. Elena knew her only superficially: they greeted each other near the elevator and sometimes discussed the building management company, but they were not close.
On Saturday morning, Larisa Petrovna caught Elena near the mailboxes.
“Lenochka, may I have a minute?”
“Yes, of course.”
The neighbor lowered her voice.
“Is everything all right with you?”
Elena became alert.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Galina Nikolaevna called yesterday. She’s worried. She says you’ve completely shut Sergey away from her. She can’t even get in to see her son.”
Elena was silent for several seconds.
Larisa Petrovna awkwardly adjusted the bag on her shoulder.
“I’m not interfering, of course. But a mother is still a mother…”
Elena looked at the neighbor carefully.
“Larisa Petrovna, no one has blocked access to Sergey. He is an adult man. He has a phone, a car, and free time. If he wants to see his mother, he can visit her any day.”
The neighbor looked embarrassed.
“Well, yes, of course…”
“But we asked her not to come to our apartment without warning anymore. That’s all.”
Larisa Petrovna quickly nodded.
“I understand. I only asked.”
Elena went upstairs with an unpleasant feeling, as if her mother-in-law had already begun telling their family situation to outsiders.
By evening it turned out that it was not only outsiders.
Sergey received a call from a cousin’s aunt. Then his mother’s older brother. Then some distant relative Elena had seen once at their wedding.
They all said roughly the same thing:
“You mustn’t hurt your mother.”
“Women come and go, but a mother is one of a kind.”
“This isn’t right, Seryozha. Not right at all.”
After the third call, Sergey turned off the sound and threw his phone onto the sofa.
“She told everyone.”
Elena was sitting nearby, sorting through a box of work materials. Her fingers moved quickly and precisely, but her face remained calm.
“Of course she did.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Talk to her.”
“Just please don’t start.”
Elena raised her eyes.
“She’s the one calling all the relatives, not me.”
Sergey said nothing.
He called his mother from another room. At first he spoke quietly. Then his voice became firmer.
“Mom, why are you involving relatives?.. No, nobody has thrown you out of my life… Because coming without permission is not normal… Mom, don’t twist things.”
For the first time, Elena heard irritation in his voice directed not at her, but at Galina Nikolaevna.
It was unexpected.
The conversation ended with the sound of a door shutting in the room.
Sergey came back gloomy.
“She’s crying.”
“And what now?”
“I don’t know.”
He sat beside her.
“I really don’t know what the right thing is.”
Elena set the materials aside.
“The right thing is not to make me guilty for wanting us to live peacefully in our own home.”
Sergey stared at the floor for a long time.
“I understand.”
“Only in words so far.”
He looked up, wanted to say something, but changed his mind.
The following week passed strangely.
Galina Nikolaevna was silent. She did not call Elena. She wrote short messages to Sergey: “I’m alive,” “Don’t worry,” “I’ll manage on my own.”
Each time, Sergey became nervous, but he did not rush to his mother immediately.
Elena saw how hard it was for him. He had grown up with the habit of responding to every one of his mother’s sighs, and now it was as if he was learning all over again to tell the difference between care and constant guilt.
On Friday evening, he suggested it himself.
“Let’s invite Mom on Sunday. Properly. In advance. For lunch.”
Elena nodded.
“Let’s.”
“But if she starts…”
“I won’t stay silent.”
“Neither will I.”
On Sunday, Galina Nikolaevna arrived exactly at two.
Elena was even surprised.
Her mother-in-law brought a bag of fruit and looked solemnly offended. She took off her shoes, walked into the kitchen, sat down on a chair, and looked around the room as if checking whether anything had changed without her permission.
Lunch began peacefully.
Sergey talked about work. Elena asked her mother-in-law how she was feeling. Galina Nikolaevna answered briefly, but without barbed remarks.
For almost an hour, everything went well.
Then she suddenly said:
“I’ve been thinking. Since you now have such strict rules, maybe I should have my own visiting time. For example, every Sunday.”
Elena raised her eyes.
Sergey froze.
“Mom, we’re not ready to give you every Sunday.”
“Why not? You’re home.”
“Not always.”
“Well, then you can plan around it.”
Elena carefully placed her fork beside her plate.
“Galina Nikolaevna, we won’t reserve Sundays for you.”
Her mother-in-law narrowed her eyes.
“So that’s how it is. You can’t even spare one day for your mother.”
“It isn’t about sparing anything.”
“Of course, of course. It’s never about that with you. But the result is the same — I’m unnecessary.”
For the first time, Sergey did not wait for his wife to answer.
“Mom, that’s enough.”
Galina Nikolaevna sharply turned to him.
“What is enough?”
“Enough pretending someone has erased you from our lives. We invited you today. You’re sitting here at our table. But you’re still trying to force us to live by your schedule again.”
His mother-in-law looked lost.
Elena saw her fingers tremble on the handle of her cup. Galina Nikolaevna had clearly not expected her son to say that out loud.
“Seryozha…”
“No, Mom. I love you. But that doesn’t mean you can come whenever you want, bring people without asking, and then complain to relatives.”
Galina Nikolaevna turned pale.
“So I’m a burden to everyone.”
“You become a burden when you refuse to hear the word no.”
The kitchen became very quiet.
Elena did not even interfere. For the first time, Sergey was speaking for himself.
His mother slowly stood up.
“Thank you for lunch.”
“Mom, don’t leave like this.”
“And how should I leave? Should I clap my hands happily because my own son is scolding me?”
Elena stood too.
“No one is scolding you. We’re explaining something we’ve been talking about for six months.”
Galina Nikolaevna looked at her with tired anger.
“You turned him against me.”
Sergey pushed back his chair abruptly.
“No. I finally heard what was happening in my own home.”
His mother-in-law clutched her bag to herself and went into the hallway.
This time Sergey followed her.
Elena stayed in the kitchen.
She heard him speak to his mother quietly:
“I’ll come see you during the week. On my own. But you will come here only when we agree on it.”
“And if I feel unwell?”
“Then you’ll call me, and I’ll come. Don’t confuse help with unexpected visits.”
Galina Nikolaevna said nothing.
The door closed.
Sergey returned a minute later. His face looked gray from worry, but his gaze was firm.
“She’s offended.”
“Yes.”
“Very offended.”
“Yes.”
He sat down and ran a hand through his hair.
“But I don’t regret saying it.”
Elena came over and hugged him around the shoulders. Sergey covered her hand with his.
For a week after that, Galina Nikolaevna was silent again.
Then she called Sergey and asked him to come fix a shelf in her wardrobe. He went. He came back late, tired, but calm.
“How is she?”
“Fine. At first she was silent. Then she tried to say you had taken me away from her.”
“And you?”
“I told her I’m not a thing.”
Elena smiled only with her eyes.
It seemed as though the situation had begun to settle.
But Galina Nikolaevna was not about to give up.
Two weeks later, it was Sergey’s birthday.
Elena had booked a table in a small restaurant in advance. They had decided to celebrate together, and Sergey planned to visit his mother the next day.
The plan was simple and clear.
Until the morning of Sergey’s birthday, when Aunt Raya called him.
“Seryozhenka, what time are we coming?”
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to understand what was going on.
“Coming where?”
“What do you mean, where? To your place. Galya said you’re having a birthday celebration at home. We’ve already bought a gift.”
Elena, who was standing by the wardrobe with a dress in her hands, slowly turned around.
Sergey put the call on speakerphone.
“Aunt Raya, we don’t have any celebration at home today.”
“What do you mean you don’t? Galya said you were just being modest. She also invited Valera and his wife. And Svetka.”
Elena closed her eyes for a second, then calmly placed the dress on the bed.
Sergey stood up.
“I’m calling Mom right now.”
Galina Nikolaevna did not answer immediately.
“Mom, why did you invite people to our apartment?”
“Seryozha, it’s your birthday! Why are you acting like a stranger? People want to congratulate you.”
“We didn’t invite anyone.”
“Because it’s always just the two of you now. That’s not right. Family should stay connected.”
Elena stood beside him and listened. There was no surprise or confusion on her face. Only firm composure.
She had already understood that this was not a misunderstanding.
It was an attempt to push everything back to how it used to be — if not by asking, then by creating a fact.
Sergey spoke for a long time. First calmly, then more sharply.
At the end he said:
“No one is coming. We’re leaving.”
“Where are you leaving?”
“To celebrate. The way we planned.”
“And the people?”
“You invited them. You explain it to them.”
He ended the call.
Elena came closer.
“Are you sure?”
Sergey looked at her.
“Yes.”
They got ready and left almost immediately.
On the way, Sergey turned off the sound on his phone. Elena saw how nervous he was, but for the first time she did not try to smooth the situation over for him.
At the restaurant, he still checked the screen several times.
There were many missed calls: his mother, Aunt Raya, an unknown number, his mother again.
Closer to evening, a message arrived from Galina Nikolaevna:
“Thank you for the humiliation. People were standing outside your building with gifts.”
Sergey looked at the screen for a long time. Then he typed:
“I didn’t invite anyone. Don’t ever do that again.”
Then he put the phone away.
Elena said nothing. She only raised her glass of juice.
“To you.”
Sergey smiled for the first time that day.
“To us.”
After the birthday, something happened that Elena had not expected.
A week later, Galina Nikolaevna herself asked to come over.
But this time, she called in advance.
“May I stop by tomorrow evening? For half an hour.”
Elena answered the phone because Sergey was in the shower.
“Tomorrow evening isn’t convenient for us.”
Her mother-in-law was silent.
Elena was already prepared for reproaches.
But suddenly Galina Nikolaevna asked:
“When would be convenient?”
Elena even looked at the phone, as if she might not recognize the number.
“Saturday after four.”
“All right. I’ll come on Saturday.”
She arrived on Saturday at half past four.
Without friends. Without relatives. Without her offended expression displayed like a medal.
She brought apples and a small box of chocolates. She sat down in the kitchen, looked at Sergey, then at Elena.
“I didn’t understand it right away,” she suddenly said.
Sergey tensed.
“Understand what?”
“That you weren’t throwing me out. You just wanted me to ask first.”
Elena remained silent.
Galina Nikolaevna smoothed the edge of the tablecloth with her palm and continued:
“When Nikolai was alive, someone was always coming over. Neighbors, relatives, friends. The door was almost never closed. Then he died, and everything became quiet. Very quiet. I suppose I started going to your place not only for Seryozha, but also to somewhere that didn’t feel so empty.”
Sergey looked at his mother more gently.
“Mom…”
“Wait. I’m going to say it anyway. I was hurt. It felt as though you had cut me off. And then I imagined someone coming to my place without calling, walking through my rooms, and bringing acquaintances with them. I would have been the first to start a scandal.”
Elena could not help quietly laughing.
Galina Nikolaevna suddenly smiled too, tiredly and a little guiltily.
“There. So I do understand. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
Sergey exhaled as if he had been carrying a heavy bag on his shoulders for six months and had finally set it down.
“Mom, we’re happy to see you. Truly. Let’s just agree on visits in advance.”
“Let’s.”
“And no relatives standing outside the building.”
Galina Nikolaevna covered her face with her hand.
“I’m still ashamed of that. Raya will remind me of it for a week.”
“You earned it,” Sergey said honestly.
His mother looked at him sternly, but without her former sharpness.
“I did.”
After that, the visits did not become perfect immediately.
Sometimes Galina Nikolaevna still began a sentence with her old habit:
“I’ll come by tomorrow…”
But now she stopped herself and corrected it:
“If it’s convenient for you.”
Sometimes she still got offended when she heard no, but she no longer climbed into a taxi just to prove a point.
Sergey began visiting his mother more often himself. Not at the first anxious sigh, but normally: call, agree on a time, come over, help, have dinner, return home.
Elena also stopped flinching whenever the doorbell rang.
One evening, about two months after the birthday incident, she and Sergey were sitting in the kitchen. He was peeling mandarins, and Elena was checking the list of orders for the next day.
Sergey’s phone gave a short sound.
He read the message and smiled.
“Mom is asking if she can come over on Sunday.”
“What did we have planned?”
“Nothing special.”
Elena thought for a moment and nodded.
“Let her come.”
Sergey typed a reply.
A minute later, another message arrived.
He laughed.
“What does it say?”
“She writes: ‘Only me. No tours.’”
Elena smiled too.
She did not say anything grand or try to sum everything up. There was no need.
The apartment was quiet.
Not empty, not tense, not guarded.
Just peaceful.
And for the first time in a long while, a message from Galina Nikolaevna did not ruin the evening. It was simply an ordinary message from someone who had finally learned to ask first — and only then come over.
