Marina stopped her car by an acquaintance’s gate and sat for several seconds, examining her well-tended garden. The June sun generously flooded the plot, its rays playing across the veranda’s windows. She adored that summer house with all her heart – every lilac bush had been planted by her own hands, every flowerbed crafted with special care. Fifteen years ago, when she and Andrey were married, this place became their shared refuge from the city’s clamor.
Strangely, today the gate was slightly ajar.
Marina frowned – she and her husband had planned to arrive only in the evening to celebrate his birthday in peace and quiet. As she stepped out of the car, she heard music and loud voices coming from the house.
Approaching closer, Marina was rooted to the spot. A festive table was set on the veranda, around which both unfamiliar and vaguely familiar people bustled. At the center sat her mother-in-law, Vera Ivanovna, and next to her… Marina felt as if the ground was slipping away from beneath her feet. Next to the mother-in-law sat Elena – Andrey’s first wife.
“This can’t be,” Marina’s thoughts raced. Elena still looked as striking as ever – tall, slender, with perfectly styled hair. She was animatedly recounting something while gesturing with a wine glass, and the other guests listened intently, periodically bursting into laughter.
Vera Ivanovna was the first to notice Marina standing by the gate, frozen.
“Marinachka!” her mother-in-law chirped happily. “We’ve been waiting for you! Come in quickly, we’re having such a wonderful celebration!”
Marina slowly approached the veranda, feeling the curious eyes of the guests upon her. Elena greeted her with a warm smile, as though welcoming an old friend:
“Hello, Marina! Long time no see.”
“Fifteen years no see,” Marina thought. “And I’d prefer if it stayed that way for another fifteen.”
“What is going on here?” she asked softly, addressing her mother-in-law.
“What do you mean?” Vera Ivanovna replied in genuine surprise. “We’re celebrating my son’s birthday! I decided to gather all the close ones – the whole family. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
A lump formed in Marina’s throat. “The whole family? So I’m not part of the family?”
At that moment, Andrey stepped onto the veranda. Seeing his wife, he froze with a look of guilt on his face.
“Marina…” he began, but she cut him off with a stern look.
“I didn’t know your mom had planned this,” Andrey said quietly as he tried to take her hand, but she pulled away.
“Of course you didn’t,” she replied sharply. “And your phone must be broken—you couldn’t warn me.”
As if oblivious to the tension, Vera Ivanovna continued chattering:
“Lenochka, dear, tell us how your trip to Italy went! You were at some culinary workshop there, weren’t you?”
Inside, Marina felt everything turning upside down. Her mother-in-law had never taken an interest in her travels, yet she now questioned her ex-daughter-in-law with such enthusiasm.
“Oh, it was amazing!” Elena said gracefully as she sipped her drink. “Imagine the traditions there! By the way, Andryusha always loved Italian cuisine. Remember,” she turned to him, “how we made pasta on this very veranda?”
Marina noticed some guests exchanging uneasy glances. A young woman with a short haircut—apparently Andrey’s cousin—whispered something to her neighbor, who shook her head disapprovingly as she looked at Marina.
“Have you been here long?” Marina asked, struggling to keep her composure.
“Oh, for about two hours already,” replied her mother-in-law cheerfully. “I decided to prepare everything in advance. I have the keys, after all.”
Keys. She has the keys to my house, and she thinks it’s acceptable to arrange gatherings here with her son’s ex-wife!
Meanwhile, Elena rose and, as if nothing had happened, headed to the kitchen:
“I’m going to check on my signature salad. Andryusha always adored it.”
Marina felt as though she were choking. She watched as her husband’s ex-wife took charge in her kitchen, using her dishes, removing food from her refrigerator—all with an air of entitlement.
“Marinachka,” an elderly relative suddenly said, “please, sit down. Why are you standing like a stranger?”
“Like a stranger.” Those words stung the most. Fifteen years of marriage, fifteen years of love and care for this home—yet here she was, made to feel like an outsider.
Andrey remained silent the whole time, shifting his gaze from his mother to his wife, clearly unsure whose side to take. His indecision was the final straw for Marina.
She slowly scanned the assembled crowd. A heavy silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the clink of dishes from the kitchen, where Elena busied herself.
“You know what,” Marina said so calmly that everyone tensed up, “I think I’ll say what I truly think. Vera Ivanovna, you know perfectly well this is my home—Andrey’s and mine. Not yours, not Elena’s, but ours. And holding gatherings here without our knowledge—excuse me, but it is the height of disrespect.”
Vera Ivanovna’s face flushed crimson.
“What do you mean, ‘without our knowledge’? Andrey is my son, I have the right…”
“No,” Marina interrupted sharply. “You have no right. The keys were with you for emergencies, not to host weekend gatherings with your son’s ex-wife’s family.”
Elena peeked out from the kitchen, holding a salad bowl:
“Marina, perhaps it’s not necessary to be so dramatic? We just wanted…”
“And you, how can you remain silent!” Marina raised her voice. “What right do you have to enter my home and act as if it is still your territory? You divorced Andrey twenty years ago. Twenty years! And now you’ve decided that you can just waltz back in?”
The guests froze, too stunned to move. Andrey took a step toward his wife:
“Marina, let’s talk calmly…”
“Calmly?” she bitterly smiled. “Where were you when your mother was orchestrating this? Why didn’t you stop it? Or do you enjoy watching your ex-wife run the household of your current family?”
Vera Ivanovna stood up:
“Marina, you’re overreacting. Lenochka has always been part of our family, and the fact that you and Andrey divorced…”
“Exactly!” Marina exclaimed. “Divorced! And you still can’t accept it. All these years you compared me to her, all these years making it clear that I was not the daughter-in-law you had dreamed of. But you know what? I’m tired of it.”
With resolve, Marina marched into the house. Behind her, she heard her mother-in-law’s anxious voice:
“Andryusha, do something! She’s ruining everything!”
But Marina no longer listened. She ascended to the bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and retrieved a small box containing important documents. Among them were the papers for the summer house—her personal property, a wedding gift from her parents.
Returning to the veranda, she found that a deathly silence had descended. Even Elena had ceased the clattering of dishes and now stood, leaning against the door frame.
“Vera Ivanovna,” Marina’s voice was firm, “here are the documents for the summer house. You can see—it’s my property. And I demand the return of the keys.”
Vera Ivanovna turned pale.
“How dare you! I am Andrey’s mother!”
“That is exactly why I endured your antics for so many years,” Marina snapped. “But now, enough is enough. Keys, please.”
Finally, Andrey emerged from his stupor:
“Mom, give me the keys.”
“What?” Vera Ivanovna stared at her son in astonishment. “Are you really taking her side?”
“Yes, Mom. Marina is right. You have crossed every line.”
Elena cleared her throat awkwardly:
“Perhaps it’s time for me to leave…”
“Everyone, now,” Marina said sharply. “The celebration is over.”
The guests began to hastily gather their things, avoiding eye contact. With trembling hands, Vera Ivanovna produced a bunch of keys and threw them onto the table:
“I only wanted what was best! I thought that, finally, the family would be together again…”
“Your family, Vera Ivanovna, is Andrey and me. Everyone else belongs to the past—a past that should have been let go long ago.”
As Elena passed by, she stopped:
“You know, Marina, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. It’s just that… when Vera Ivanovna called, it seemed impolite to refuse.”
“Next time,” Marina replied, “just remember that Andrey has another family.”
Once the last car disappeared around the bend, Marina and Andrey found themselves alone on the veranda. The summer evening wrapped the garden in soft twilight, and somewhere in the distance, birds sang.
“Forgive me,” Andrey said quietly, holding his wife close. “I should have stopped this immediately.”
Marina rested her head on his shoulder.
“Do you know what hurts the most? Not that your mom organized this circus, or even that she invited Elena. It’s that you were silent. You just stood there, watching me feel like a stranger in my own home.”
“I will never let that happen again,” Andrey promised as he held her tighter. “I promise.”
Marina lifted her head, looking into his eyes.
“Really?”
“Really. I just realized that all these years I allowed my mother to interfere in our lives, thinking it was best for everyone. But today, looking at you, I understood—the only thing that truly matters is our family. Just you and me.”
Marina smiled, feeling the tension of the crazy day begin to fade.
“Then happy birthday, my love. Maybe we should order pizza and celebrate just the two of us?”
“Only if you make your signature lemonade,” Andrey winked. “It’s a thousand times better than any Italian recipe.”
They sat on the veranda late into the night, enjoying the quiet and each other’s company. And the next morning, Andrey changed the locks—just to be safe.
Sometimes a wake-up call is needed to understand what is truly valuable. And sometimes the most unpleasant day can be the beginning of a new, stronger story of love and trust.