Yulia stopped her car a block away from her mother-in-law’s house. The clock read 5:45 PM — she had arrived earlier than the appointed time. “Maybe she’ll finally appreciate my punctuality,” she thought as she smoothed out the wrinkles on her new dress. The gift was carefully wrapped on the back seat — an antique brooch that she had been hunting for among collectors for several months.
As she approached the house, Yulia noticed a slightly open window on the first floor. The voice of her mother-in-law, clear and resonant, carried through the evening street:
“No, Vera, can you imagine? She didn’t even bother to ask what kind of cake I like! She ordered some trendy dessert… My son has always loved the classic ‘Napoleon,’ and this one… — a pause — doesn’t even know that. Seven years of marriage!”
Yulia froze. Her legs felt as if they had fused to the asphalt. “I told you — she’s not a match for Slavik. He works around the clock at his clinic and only comes home sporadically. What sort of housewife is she? I went by their place yesterday — unwashed dishes, wilted flowers… And she, you know, was performing a complicated operation!”
Inside, everything grew cold. Yulia leaned against the fence, feeling her knees tremble. For seven years, she had tried to be the perfect daughter-in-law: cooking, cleaning, remembering every birthday, running errands when her mother-in-law was ill. And all this time…
“No, no, I’m not saying anything, but is this really the wife for my boy? He needs a real family, comfort, care… And this one only goes to conferences and takes shifts. And she doesn’t even think about having children! Can you imagine?”
The ringing in her ears intensified. Mechanically, Yulia pulled out her phone and dialed her husband’s number.
“Slavik? I’m going to be a little late. Yes, everything’s fine, it’s just… traffic.”
She turned around and walked back to her car. She sat in the driver’s seat, staring at a single spot. Fragments of phrases that had accumulated over the years swirled in her head: “Maybe you could salt the borscht better?”, “In my day, wives stayed at home…”, “Slavik works so hard at his job, he needs special attention…”
The phone vibrated — a message from her husband: “Mom is asking where you are. Everyone’s already gathered.”
Yulia took a deep breath. A strange smile appeared on her face. “Alright,” she thought, “if you want the perfect daughter-in-law, you’ll get her.”
She started the car and headed toward her mother-in-law’s house. The plan crystallized instantly.
No more half-measures and attempts to please. It was time to show what a “real” daughter-in-law could be.
Yulia entered the house with the brightest smile she could muster. “Mommy!” she exclaimed, hugging her mother-in-law with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’m sorry for being late; I stopped at three stores to get exactly those candles for the cake that you love!”
Her mother-in-law was stunned, not expecting such assertiveness. “I thought…” she began, but Yulia already chattered on:
“Oh, and can you believe it, on my way here I met your friend Vera! Such a lovely woman, always speaking the truth to your face, isn’t that right?” Yulia gave her mother-in-law a suggestive look, watching as her face paled.
At the festive table, Yulia outdid herself. She would discreetly slide the best pieces onto her mother-in-law’s plate, loudly praising her every word, and constantly asking for advice on household management.
“Mommy, do you think borscht should be simmered for five or six hours? And should the rugs be beaten in the morning or in the evening? Or maybe I should quit my job? After all, Slavik needs a real family, doesn’t he?”
Her husband glanced at her in confusion, while the relatives exchanged looks. And Yulia continued:
“You know, I was thinking — maybe I should finish those housekeeping courses? Quit this silly surgery business… After all, a woman should be the keeper of the home, right, Mommy?”
Her mother-in-law nervously tapped her fork on the plate. Her usual confidence was melting away with each passing minute.
“And of course, you need to have children! Three, no, better five! I’ll stay home, make borscht, darn socks… Slavik, darling, isn’t that what you want?”
Her husband choked: “Yulia, are you feeling alright?”
“Absolutely wonderful, dear! I just finally understood what a perfect wife should be. Right, Mommy?”
Her mother-in-law stood up from the table: “I’m going to make some tea…”
“I’ll come with you!” Yulia exclaimed, jumping up. “And you can show me how to brew it properly. After all, I’m such a klutz…”
In the kitchen, her mother-in-law abruptly turned to her and said, “What is all this supposed to mean?”
Yulia moved closer and said quietly but clearly, “Don’t you get it? Maybe you should call Vera and discuss it?”
Her mother-in-law blanched further. “Did… did you hear that?”
“Every word,” Yulia said calmly while pouring the tea. “About the unwashed dishes, about the conferences, about how I’m not a match for your son… It was very enlightening, you know.”
“I didn’t mean it like that…” her mother-in-law began to explain.
“What did you mean, Mommy?” Yulia, for the first time that evening, allowed sarcasm to creep into her voice. “That I’m a bad wife because I save lives instead of dusting? Or that I’m unworthy of your son because I have my own ambitions?”
Laughter erupted from the guests in the living room. Yulia lowered her voice:
“You know what’s the funniest part? I spent seven years trying to live up to your standards. I cooked, cleaned, remembered all your favorite dishes and allergies. I canceled important operations just to attend your family dinners. And all this time…”
“Yulia, listen…” her mother-in-law tried to take her hand.
“No, you listen,” Yulia said gently but firmly, freeing her hand. “I love your son. And he loves me. We are happy together, despite all your attempts to prove otherwise. And you know what? I’m not going to pretend to be someone I’m not anymore.”
At that moment, Slavik entered the kitchen: “What’s going on here? Yulia, you seem a bit off today…”
“Nothing, dear,” Yulia smiled. “Your mom and I are just discussing what a real wife should be. Right, Mommy?”
Her mother-in-law fell silent, lowering her eyes. For the first time in years, she had no response.
A heavy silence filled the room. Her mother-in-law nervously fiddled with the edge of her apron, at a loss for words for the first time ever. Yulia calmly stirred her tea, watching the reaction of the woman who had tried to “fix” her for so many years.
“You know,” Yulia finally said, “I spent a long time wondering why you treated me this way. Perhaps I was doing something wrong? Perhaps I wasn’t trying hard enough? But today, after hearing your conversation, I realized — it’s not me.”
Her mother-in-law raised her eyes: “What do you mean?”
“I mean that for you, no one will ever be good enough for your son. You don’t accept me — you can’t even accept the idea that your boy might be happy with someone other than you.”
“How dare you…” her mother-in-law began, but Yulia interrupted softly:
“Dare. Because I’m tired. Tired of pretending not to notice your cutting remarks. Tired of having to justify my work, which I love. Tired of proving that I’m worthy of being your son’s wife.”
At that moment, Slavik peeked into the kitchen: “What’s happening here? Mom, everyone’s waiting for tea…”
“I’ll bring it right away, dear,” Yulia said with a smile. “Your mom and I are just discussing some… family matters.”
When her husband left, Yulia turned to her mother-in-law: “You know what’s the most interesting part? I really respected you. I admired how you raised Slavik, how you built a strong family. I wanted to learn from you. And you… you chose to see me as the enemy.”
“Yulia, listen…” her mother-in-law began.
“Don’t try to justify yourself. Just know — I’m not going to be silent anymore. I’m not going to tolerate humiliation or try to live up to your inflated standards. I am who I am. A doctor, a wife, a person with my own strengths and weaknesses. And if that doesn’t suit you… well, that’s your problem, not mine.”
With these words, Yulia picked up the tray with the tea and headed back to the living room, leaving her mother-in-law standing frozen in the middle of the kitchen.
The following days, an odd atmosphere reigned in the house. Slavik noticed that something had changed, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what.
Yulia no longer tried to please her mother-in-law, didn’t apologize for coming home late from work, and didn’t feel the need to justify every decision she made.
At the family dinner the following Sunday, she arrived straight from the hospital, in a business suit, with a folder of medical case histories tucked under her arm. “Sorry, dear,” she said to her mother-in-law, “I didn’t have time to change. An emergency surgery ran long.”
Her mother-in-law opened her mouth for a customary remark but stopped, meeting the steady gaze of her daughter-in-law. In that look was the calm dignity of someone who was no longer going to apologize for being who she was.
“How did the operation go?” Slavik asked unexpectedly, serving his wife a salad.
“Difficult, but successful,” Yulia allowed herself to talk about work at the family table for the first time in a long while. “Can you imagine, the patient was only sixteen, and such a complex pathology…?”
“Maybe not at the table?” her mother-in-law started as usual, but Yulia seemed not to hear.
“…we fought for every millimeter for five hours. But now the girl will be able to walk. You know, in moments like these, you understand why I chose this profession.”
Slavik listened with interest, asking questions. And her mother-in-law remained silent, looking at her daughter-in-law as if for the first time.
Before her sat not the troubled woman who had spent years trying to live up to someone else’s expectations, but a confident professional saving lives.
After dinner, when Slavik left to make some work calls, her mother-in-law unexpectedly asked, “So, how did you decide to become a surgeon?”
Yulia raised her eyebrows in surprise but replied, “When I was a child, I broke my arm. A complicated fracture, and everyone said — it would be misshapen. But the surgeon who operated on me… he worked miracles. That’s when I knew — I wanted to be like him. To give people hope.”
“Are there many women in surgery?” her mother-in-law asked, her tone devoid of judgment for the first time, only curiosity.
“Fewer than one would like. Many are afraid that they won’t be able to balance work and family. Or they give in to society’s pressure…”
“Just as I once did,” her mother-in-law said softly, then fell silent, though Yulia managed to catch the remark.
“What do you mean?”
Her mother-in-law was silent for a long time, as if gathering her courage. Then she slowly said, “I too once dreamed of becoming a doctor. I even enrolled in medical school. But in my third year, I met Slavik’s father…”
She paused, lost in memories. Yulia waited, fearing to disturb this moment of unexpected candor.
“His parents were adamantly opposed to their daughter-in-law working as a doctor. ‘A proper woman should devote herself to the family,’ they said. And I… I gave in. I dropped out, and became that ‘proper woman.’ Perhaps that’s why…” she trailed off.
“Is that why you reacted so strongly against my work?” Yulia asked quietly.
“Perhaps… Seeing you do what I only dreamed of… achieving success without sacrificing your family… it hurt. As if every one of your successes underscored my own weakness, my inadequacy.”
“But you raised a wonderful son and built a strong family…”
“Yes,” her mother-in-law replied bitterly, managing a wry smile. “But every time I see an operation on TV, I wonder — could I have been standing there, at the operating table? Could I have saved lives like you?”
A heavy silence filled the room. The two women sat opposite each other, and for the first time, there was no wall of misunderstanding or judgment between them.
“You know,” Yulia finally said, “it’s never too late to start something new. Maybe not surgery, but… I know of some excellent medical training courses. Many of my colleagues teach there. If you’d like…”
“Do you really think someone like me, at my age…?” her mother-in-law said with a hint of disbelief, shaking her head.
“And why not? You’re smart, energetic. And your experience could be incredibly valuable.”
At that moment, Slavik returned to the room. He looked at his wife and mother, who were now engrossed in a discussion about some courses, with surprise.
“What’s going on with you two?” he asked with a smile.
“You see, son,” her mother-in-law said, smiling genuinely for the first time in a long while, “Yulia and I have finally started speaking the same language.”
Six months passed. Much had changed in the family’s life. To everyone’s astonishment, her mother-in-law actually enrolled in the medical courses. At first, she was shy about being the oldest in the group, but gradually she got involved, and now, with sparkling eyes, she recounted every lesson.
“Can you imagine,” she shared with Yulia over a cup of tea, “it turns out I remember so much from medical school! And the new methodologies are simply fantastic… or rather, exhilarating,” she said, shyly smiling at her borrowed English term.
Yulia was surprised to discover traits in her mother-in-law that she had never noticed before: a lively mind, genuine curiosity, a readiness to learn new things. And more and more, her mother-in-law would ask Yulia about challenging cases at work, listen intently, and even started reading medical journals that Yulia brought home.
One evening, as the three of them sat together in the living room, her mother-in-law suddenly said, “You know, I want to apologize. To both of you.”
Slavik tore his eyes away from his laptop, and Yulia looked up from her case histories.
“All these years, I tried to control your life, to impose my ideas of what a family should be like. But in reality… in reality, I was just jealous. Jealous of your freedom, your ability to live by your own rules. Of the fact that you weren’t afraid to be yourself.”
“Mom…” Slavik began, but she motioned him to stop.
“Let me finish. Yulia,” she turned to her daughter-in-law, “you taught me an important lesson: it’s never too late to start living differently. And… thank you for that.”
A silence settled over the room, but this time it was a different kind — a warm silence filled with mutual understanding.
“By the way,” her mother-in-law suddenly brightened, “I’ve signed up as a volunteer at the children’s ward in the hospital. I’ll be reading stories to the little patients.”
“Really?” Yulia beamed. “That’s wonderful! I have a seven-year-old patient who’s very lonely…”
Slavik looked at the two most important women in his life and smiled. They had finally found a common language — not one of cooking or housekeeping, but the language of accepting each other for who they are.
And Yulia thought about how strangely life is arranged: sometimes you just have to stop pretending to find true understanding. And that love isn’t about one person conforming to the other, but about both learning to accept differences and grow together.