Dima, look what I have on my phone, Lena held out her smartphone to her husband, frowning. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, lighting up their cozy living room.
Dima looked up from his laptop, lazily glancing at the screen filled with some unknown audio files.
Some unnamed recordings. Weird, he shrugged. Maybe something got recorded by accident?
Lena pressed play. The voice of her mother-in-law sounded in the room not the sweet, syrupy tone Vera Arkadyevna usually used with her, but sharp, full of contempt:
“Did you see her new dress? She should’ve lost some weight first before dressing up. And she even dares to make remarks about my style!”
Lena clenched her fists and deleted the recording, feeling her cheeks burn with shame and anger.
Forget it, Dima waved it off, returning to work. Just typical female jealousy.
A cup of tea cooled on the coffee table, while an uneasy feeling began to grow inside Lena’s soul.
That uneasy feeling didn’t leave Lena all evening. She mechanically prepared dinner, chopping vegetables for the salad, while Dima fussed with the dishwasher that was acting up again.
Maybe we should call a repairman? Lena suggested, watching her husband focus on the filter.
I’ll manage, Dima grumbled. No need to waste money.
Their two-room apartment in an old brick building had been handed down to Lena from her parents. Small but cozy, with high ceilings and old parquet flooring that Dima himself refinished last summer. They only paid utilities which was a significant plus for a young family with a one-year-old child.
The doorbell rang just as they sat down to eat. Lena sighed, already knowing who it was.
I’m here for my grandson! Vera Arkadyevna announced from the doorstep, an elegant lady in an expensive cashmere coat. She pulled a small plastic toy car from her purse. I brought it for Misha. And something for your tea, she extended a box of cheap candies.
Thanks, come in, Lena forced a smile, accepting the gifts.
The mother-in-law entered the room where Misha was playing, cooing softly. Lena remembered how last week Vera Arkadyevna had bragged about the new iPhone she gave her daughter Rita. “She dreamed of it so much, how could I refuse?” the mother-in-law had said, glancing meaningfully at Lena’s old phone.
It reminded her of an incident a year ago when Vera Arkadyevna came with a photo album.
Look at the beauties Dima had, she flipped through the glossy pages. Here’s Sveta, the translator. And Marina her dad is a banker… Lena silently took the album and turned to a page with a family photo.
And here’s your mother-in-law, she pointed to a graceful woman next to Dima’s father. So elegant! That’s the kind of level to aim for.
After that, the album disappeared, but the feeling remained.
Children, Vera Arkadyevna sat down at the table, refusing dinner, I have a business proposal for you.
She pulled a brochure with new apartments from her purse.
Look at the apartments being built now. Three-room ones with two bathrooms! What if we join forces? We sell my apartment and yours, buy one big one for all of us. Misha gets a separate room, you get the bedroom, I get a small one. And one utility bill for all!
Lena exchanged a glance with Dima. Something in her mother-in-law’s eyes unsettled her a kind of predatory gleam.
Interesting proposal, she answered cautiously. We’ll think about it.
Just don’t take too long, Vera Arkadyevna smiled. These days, if you hesitate, you lose.
No way, Dima said as soon as the door closed behind his mother. Not even up for discussion.
Why? Lena asked, surprised. I’m against it too, but I wanted to hear your reasons.
Dima sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over. In the dim bedroom light, his face looked gaunt.
Mom always wanted a girl, he began quietly. When I was little, she sometimes dressed me in dresses. Said it was a game. Dad made a scene when he found out. Then Rita was born, and I… became extra.
Lena sat beside him, took his hand.
If Rita broke my toys, I was the one punished for not protecting them. If I got an A, it was normal. If she did, it was celebrated. When I got into university, Mom said I just got lucky with the examiners.
I didn’t know…
I loved her, tried to earn her attention. But at some point I realized it’s useless. She just doesn’t know how to love a son the way she loves a daughter. And if we live together, he looked up our Misha will be just as wrong a grandson to her as I was a wrong son.
Lena hugged her husband, and at that moment everything fell into place. Behind the controlling behavior of the mother-in-law was not just pettiness but deep trauma, twisted, unhealthy love. And that love could wound not only their relationship but the soul of their little son.
We will not sell the apartment, she said firmly. Never.
After talking with Dima, Lena began to watch her mother-in-law’s behavior more closely. Life went on as usual: laundry, cooking, endless childhood colds, and rare moments of silence when Misha finally fell asleep.
On Saturday, Lena went to help Vera Arkadyevna prepare for her anniversary. Her mother-in-law’s kitchen shone with the chrome surfaces of new appliances.
Roll the dough thinner, her mother-in-law commanded, checking the chicken in the oven. And better napkins, the ones with gold embossing.
When the intercom rang, Lena rushed to open the door the courier had brought flowers. In the commotion, she didn’t notice she left her phone on the kitchen table.
She only remembered at home, starting the washing machine.
I’ll have to drop by tomorrow, she sighed.
The next day, when Lena picked up her phone, she saw that the voice recorder had accidentally turned on. She listened to the recording at home, in the bathroom, with the door closed.
At first, normal sounds, then voices Vera Arkadyevna and Rita were alone in the kitchen.
“…we’ll sell their apartment and ours, and give them a room in a dormitory. Let them be offended. But for you and me a fancy place!” her mother-in-law’s voice sounded smug. “What if they don’t agree?” that was Rita. “Dima never argues with me. And that one… well, we’ll find a way to convince her.”
Lena turned off the recording, feeling ice spreading inside. There it was, the real plan. Not care for them, not saving money, but a simple desire to take away the apartment.
When Dima came back from work, she silently played the recording.
After listening, he was silent for a long time, only his jaw muscles worked.
No deals with her. Ever, he finally said.
And no anniversaries either, Lena added, feeling determination boil inside her.
The doorbell rang three days later. Vera Arkadyevna stood at the door with her usual box of cookies and a forced smile.
I brought sweets for Misha, she sang as she stepped inside. And wanted to talk about our offer again. I’ve already looked at apartments, there’s a great three-room in a new building!
Dima took the cookies and placed them on a hallway shelf, not inviting his mother further.
We won’t sell the apartment, Mom.
But why? Vera Arkadyevna was amazed. It’s beneficial for everyone! Lena, explain to your husband!
I agree with him, Lena replied, crossing her arms.
Vera Arkadyevna’s face changed instantly. The smile disappeared, her eyes narrowed.
It’s all her! she pointed at Lena. She’s been twisting your mind! Turning you against your own mother!
Dima shook his head.
We heard your plan, Mom. The whole conversation with Rita.
Vera Arkadyevna went pale, her hand trembled on her purse handle.
What conversation? I don’t understand what you’re talking about…
About the dormitory. About leaving us with one room, Dima continued calmly.
For a few seconds, the mother-in-law was silent, opening and closing her mouth like a fish on shore. Then she tried to smile:
You misunderstood! It was a joke, Rita likes to fantasize…
It wasn’t a joke, Dima stood up. And now we know the truth. We won’t sell the apartment. Never.
Vera Arkadyevna grabbed her purse and stood up, her face twisted with anger.
Then live in your slum! she shouted, turning around. Don’t ask for help later! Ungrateful!
The door slammed. Silence hung over the apartment. Dima leaned against the door and closed his eyes.
Three weeks passed. No calls or visits from Vera Arkadyevna. Dima didn’t look upset, only occasionally thoughtful, staring out the window.
A call came one evening. Dima listened, frowning, then hung up.
Mom fell. She broke her leg, he said, looking at the wall. The neighbor says she’s in the hospital.
Rita? Lena asked.
On a business trip. Can’t interrupt.
The kitchen clock ticked in the silence. Misha fiddled with toys in the nursery.
Go, Lena said, wiping her hands with a towel. I understand.
In the hospital room, the mother looked smaller, more helpless. Seeing her son, she sobbed, tears in her eyes.
You finally came, she said, seeing him. You must, you’re my son.
How are you, Mom? Dima asked, sitting on a chair.
How do you think? Six weeks in a cast, the doctor said. Who will help me? Rita works, she has no time.
I’ll hire a caregiver, Dima offered. A good, professional one.
A caregiver? Vera Arkadyevna was outraged. A stranger? And you? You’re my son!
She turned to the wall:
You’re abandoning your mother in trouble. I knew it.
Dima didn’t argue. He just said he would come himself every other day, bring groceries, make sure everything was alright. But he would no longer live her life.
The mother turned to the wall, no longer looking at him.
A quiet summer evening. Lena and Dima sat in the kitchen, drinking tea. Misha played nearby.
Has your mom been discharged? Lena asked.
Yes, yesterday. The caregiver is good, managing well.
Dima looked at his wife.
You know, she said “thank you” for the first time. Just like that, without “you must.”
They silently looked out the window. Outside, the quiet summer evening was falling. Lights were turning on in the neighboring house.
Forgiveness is possible. But trust that’s another story. One yet to be written.