Who do you think you are, Vanya, to tell me how to live?” Tamara Pavlovna’s voice was piercing, and her eyes sparkled with anger. “Do you think that just because you’re courting my daughter, you can interfere in my affairs?”
“I’m not interfering, Tamara Pavlovna,” Ivan tried to speak calmly, although anger was bubbling inside him, “I’m just asking you not to meddle in our relationship with Katya. It’s our personal space, and we will handle all matters ourselves.”
“Your personal space!” the woman mocked him with a biting sneer. “It will become yours when you start providing for yourself. As long as my daughter depends on me, her life is my concern. And I will decide who is worthy of her attention, and who is not. And you…” she contemptuously curled her lips, “are clearly not fit for the role of a husband.”
In the next room, Katya pressed her ear against the door, trembling with fear and offense. Her hands hung limply, and tears stung her eyes. She understood her mother’s motives but could not agree with her assessment of Vanya. He was not at all like the person Tamara Pavlovna portrayed. But how to explain this to her mother and calm Ivan?
“Tamara Pavlovna, let’s talk calmly,” Ivan tried to compose himself. “I know Katya’s well-being is important to you, but believe me: I’m doing everything I can.”
“Doing?” she scoffed. “And where’s the result? Katya constantly complains that she’s starving because you don’t even have proper food. How can she be happy with you? Where are the guarantees that you can provide her a decent life?”
Unable to bear the tension, Katya burst into the room: “Mom, stop! I love Vanya, he loves me, and we don’t need anyone’s control to determine what’s best for us.” “Fine,” Tamara Pavlovna coldly retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Live your life, but don’t count on my help. You can even not invite me to your wedding—I’ll decide whether to show up. I’m tired of watching you throw your life away on such a…person without goals.” Ivan turned pale but responded quietly yet firmly: “I have goals, they’re just different from your ideas.” “Goals?” Tamara Pavlovna sneered. “I see only irresponsibility. No money—earn it any way you can, no housing—find a side job, no prospects—improve yourself! Instead, you offer only excuses for weaklings!”
Katya felt her heart squeeze in pain. Her mother had never been so harsh, especially in front of Vanya. The situation clearly got out of control. “Mom, please stop!” she pleaded, grabbing her hand. But Tamara Pavlovna roughly freed herself: “I’ve said everything I wanted to. I don’t want to waste any more time on these talks.”
The atmosphere reached its breaking point. Ivan turned to the window, Katya stood frozen in the middle of the room, covering her face with her hands, and Tamara Pavlovna, demonstratively pursing her lips, headed for the exit.
Mother categorically forbade Katya from moving in with Vanya, taking an unyielding stance: until she saw real financial independence from the boy, she didn’t even need to ask for her blessing.
And Vanya… how Katya loved him! He was twenty-five and worked in a small furniture workshop, creating beautiful and reliable interior items with his hands. Katya saw his dedication to his craft. The earnings were modest, but he already had his own, albeit small, apartment. His simplicity and independence attracted Katya. Unlike previous acquaintances who only built castles in the air, Vanya acted. He didn’t make loud promises but worked day by day.
However, for Tamara Pavlovna, he remained a “poor man” who, in her opinion, could not succeed. Vanya never talked about wanting to start his own business. He worked in his friend’s workshop, helped with purchasing materials, and even tried to promote products through the website. But progress was slow, and Tamara Pavlovna grumbled discontentedly, “How can one live on such crumbs? Is that enough for my daughter?”
Tired of the constant reproaches, Katya once asked Vanya directly: “Why don’t you try something else? You’re smart, you can find other opportunities. There are plenty of interesting vacancies in the city.” He sighed deeply: “You know, Katya, I thought about moving to a big city—St. Petersburg or Moscow. But then I decided that I have at least some start here. I’m confident that I can develop my business in the furniture field.”
Katya did not object. She liked watching his eyes light up when talking about work—whether it was creating a new design, searching for innovative materials, or refining existing models. Each project was a small discovery for him.
However, Vanya rarely mentioned his family. Katya knew only that his father was a businessman. He had dropped that information once accidentally. “Well, a businessman, then,” she thought at the time, not giving it much significance.
In reality, Vanya’s family belonged to the elite, where billion-dollar fortunes and connections were commonplace. But in his youth, the young man made a conscious choice: to leave that world of privilege and start all over. Mikhail Petrovich, his father, although a man of firm principles, understandingly accepted his son’s decision: “Want to live a simple life? Please do. Independence is valuable. But remember: there will come a time when you’ll have to return to the family business. Until then, enjoy your freedom.”
Vanya truly enjoyed every moment. He studied, worked, searched for his path. The idea of living off parental capital did not appeal to him. He took pleasure in creating: developing designs, drawing sketches, working with wood, assembling furniture, painting it. His small apartment had a special atmosphere of coziness. Every detail was made by his hands: an original kitchen set with secret shelves, a compact but functional wooden table. Guests, entering his place, admired his work and wondered why such a talented person lived so modestly.
Tamara Pavlovna, unlike Vanya’s friends, didn’t even try to see the depth of his character. For her, he remained a “mediocre man without prospects.” She dreamed of marrying her daughter to a man who could provide her a carefree life. Katya grew up in a poor family: her father left when she was three years old and hardly helped her mother. Tamara Pavlovna dedicated her entire life to raising her daughter and now hoped that Katya would choose a partner with money.
Katya herself was calm, diligent, and a bit dreamy. She studied, worked part-time as a wedding photographer, loved animals, and helped a friend organize a shelter for homeless cats and dogs. She never aspired to high status, just wanting simple happiness—to be loved and to love. With Vanya, she felt protected for the first time. Although financial stability was not his strong suit, he gave her confidence and inner support.
But her mother’s taunts became increasingly sharp. “It’s time for you to break up with this man! Find someone worthy!” Tamara Pavlovna repeated again and again. Katya tried to ignore these words.
The day the conflict reached its peak was a turning point. Tamara Pavlovna did not hold back, expressing all her dissatisfaction in front of Vanya. He patiently listened to her attacks, but his patience was wearing thin. The conflict escalated into a loud argument, after which the mother slammed the door and left, leaving the young people in tense silence.
“Katya, I don’t know what to do,” Vanya confessed a few days later, sitting in his kitchen. “Your mom won’t give us a chance to be together. I’m afraid we won’t be able to handle this pressure.” “Vanya, mom is just worried,” Katya rested her head on her hands, tired. “But she’s going too far. I’m trying to explain to her that you’re not a layabout, that you have plans and a goal…”
“It seems she’s not ready to hear me,” Vanya looked at her sadly. “She wants to see me successful today: with an expensive car, a spacious apartment… And I don’t have that yet. But we can achieve everything together.” “Mom doesn’t believe in building a future together,” Katya sighed. “She’s tired of poverty and wants me not to repeat her mistakes.”
“What should I do?” Vanya clenched his fists, feeling helpless. “I can’t tell her the truth about myself…” “What truth?” Katya asked in surprise. “Never mind… nothing important,” he waved it off. “I just can’t change her opinion. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to choose between us.”
“And I don’t want such a choice,” Katya whispered. “Maybe we should temporarily stop communicating with mom? If we live separately, she’ll understand that our relationship is serious and calm down.”
The idea seemed reasonable, and they decided to try it. However, a couple of days later, the situation only worsened. Tamara Pavlovna called her daughter, sobbing into the phone: “How could you do this? I’m sick, lying alone, and you left me! It’s all because of your…”
These accusations made Katya feel guilty, and she began to lash out at Vanya. He silently took her tears and reproaches, but resentment simmered inside him. That’s how their first serious fights started.
Eventually, when both their patience ran out, Katya couldn’t hold back and shouted that she could no longer live under constant tension, torn between her mother and her loved one. Vanya was silent, understanding her pain, but he found no way out of the situation. One evening he said: “Maybe we should break up for a while? So you can focus on your mom, and I—on my life. Let’s see how it goes.”
“Are you serious?” Katya couldn’t believe her ears. “I see how you’re suffering. I want you to be happy, even if it means taking a step back.”
A few days later, they decided to break up. Katya returned to her mother, deciding to focus on her support. Vanya stayed alone in his small apartment, immersed in bitter thoughts.
Six months passed. Spring was coming to an end, bringing sunny days and the smell of flowering trees. But the atmosphere in Tamara Pavlovna’s house remained heavy and musty. Katya continued her studies, worked hard, tried to minimize conflicts with her mother. She still thought of Vanya—with pain, with sadness, sometimes with hope. But the fear of new pain stopped her: she dared not call or write to him.
One day, Tamara Pavlovna, idly switching TV channels, heard the doorbell. It was neighbor Galya.
“Hello, Tamara!” she greeted as she entered the apartment. “Are you watching the news? I accidentally saw something interesting! A local channel was covering the opening of a new furniture factory. With speeches, ceremonial ribbons, and even the mayor’s presence. And guess who I noticed there? Your former almost-son-in-law Vanya! Turns out, he’s the president of some large holding!”
Tamara Pavlovna looked at her in surprise: “What?! Can’t be! Must be someone similar…”
“No way! They introduced him by name: ‘Ivan Mikhailov—president of “Art-Mebel.”‘ The host said he’s the son of billionaire Mikhail Petrovich Mikhailov and now heads the family business. Looks like he inherited it all.”
Tamara Pavlovna turned pale and froze. For the first time in a long while, she was at a loss for words. Galya, noticing her reaction, shook her head: “Oh, Tamara… What a twist. Katya… How did they even break up? I remember you had loud scandals…”
“Yes…” Tamara Pavlovna whispered. “We had a big fight. I thought he had no future, that he was poor, and I filled Katya with these thoughts.”
“Well, you see,” Galya sighed. “And you probably said a lot to him… I know your character. He probably decided to step back.”
Galya left, and Tamara Pavlovna remained sitting in front of the TV, but she no longer saw anything. Her own words, taunts, and distrust of the guy she considered “worthless” spun in her head. And he, it turns out, was just following his path, not boasting about his origins. If she hadn’t interfered, perhaps Katya would now be with him, happy and confident in the future.
Katya came home just at that moment. Seeing her mother’s thoughtful face, she asked worriedly: “Mom, what happened?”
“Katya, sit down,” Tamara Pavlovna looked lost, which Katya had never noticed before. “I have something to tell you… I… I was wrong about everything.”
“About what?” Katya frowned, sensing anxiety.
“Turn on the internet, find the news broadcast… But better sit down, I’ll explain.”
Tamara Pavlovna told everything she had heard from Galya. At first, Katya thought it was a joke, but after checking the video online, she saw for herself: her Vanya was standing on stage, elegant and confident, talking about the development of production. He was called a “young leader” who successfully continues his family’s business.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” Katya said in shock, turning off the recording. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“I think he wanted to prove to everyone that he could succeed on his own. And to you, probably,” Tamara Pavlovna covered her face with her hands. “I’m such a fool… I said so many bad things…”
“Mom, calm down,” Katya was in shock, but her heart also squeezed remembering how Vanya endured her mother’s attacks. He apparently just wanted to maintain his principles.
“Maybe you should call him?” Tamara Pavlovna suggested after a while. “I’m ready to apologize… I realized I was wrong.”
Katya took out her phone, found the number, and paused, not daring to press the button. After a few rings, an answering machine picked up. She hung up, feeling disappointed.
“Call later,” her mother said gently, taking her hand. “Everything will be okay.”
A week later, on a Sunday, as Katya was drying her hands with a towel after cooking, the phone rang. An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen.
“Hello?” she answered cautiously.
“Hi, Katya, it’s me, Vanya.”
“Vanya!” her voice trembled. “I’m glad to hear from you.”
“Sorry I didn’t call back right away, was on a business trip… Just found out about your call. How are you?”
“Good… Vanya, I found out…” she paused. “About your business, about your father.”
Silence lingered, then Vanya quietly said: “Now you know everything.”
“Vanya, forgive me…” Katya’s voice trembled. “I didn’t support you then. And mom too… We were both wrong.”
“Katya, I understand,” he responded calmly. “It was important to me that love was sincere, without the influence of money. I didn’t expect to end up in the company so quickly myself. But I don’t hold any grudges against you.”
“Really?” she whispered.
“Of course. If you want, we could meet, talk. I miss you.”
Her eyes filled with tears of happiness: “I miss you too.”
Tamara Pavlovna, seeing her daughter’s radiant face, suddenly felt relief. Now she faced a difficult reconciliation with Vanya, but she was ready to do everything possible. The main thing was that Katya was glowing with joy again, not from hurt.
“Vanya,” Katya said, “can you come tomorrow? Mom wants to talk to you… And I, of course, want to see you.”
“I can stop by. I’ll be in your area. Let’s set a time.”
Katya hung up the phone and hugged her mother. Although still anxious inside, they both understood: fate had given them a second chance. Vanya didn’t hold a grudge, and Katya still loved him—a man of strong principles who had proven his worth as a person. Now, perhaps, their story would continue, and Tamara Pavlovna would learn to accept her daughter’s choice, whatever it might be.