Styop, maybe we shouldn’t go today? I could say I’m not feeling well,” Alina nervously tugged at the corner of the tablecloth, avoiding her husband’s eyes.
Stepan stepped over to his wife and gently took her hand.
“Alinka, we’ve already talked this through. If you turn down every Sunday dinner at my mother’s, she’ll only be more convinced that something’s wrong with you. We need to go.”
Alina sighed. Sunday dinners at her mother-in-law’s had become a real ordeal. Tamara Ivanovna—an elegant lady with impeccable manners and a sharp tongue—never missed a chance to point out how unworthy her daughter-in-law was of Stepan.
“You know how she looks at me,” Alina stood and began clearing the dishes from the table. “As if I were some ragamuffin who stumbled into polite society by accident.”
Stepan wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his nose in her hair.
“She just hasn’t gotten to know the real you yet. Give her time.”
“A year, Styop. A whole year, and she still treats me like a temporary fixture in your life.”
Stepan turned Alina to face him. His eyes shone with resolve.
“You’re my wife. I chose you myself, and I don’t care what my mother—or anyone else—thinks.”
Alina couldn’t help but smile, remembering their first meeting in the library where she worked after finishing teacher’s college. Stepan, a successful architect, had come in for art-history books and stayed talking with her for three hours about their favorite authors. A month later, he’d proposed—much to Tamara Ivanovna’s shock, since she’d already picked out a daughter of a university friend for her son.
Alina’s phone chirped with a new message. She slipped from her husband’s embrace and looked at the screen.
“Kostya says he can come by tomorrow,” her face brightened. “He’ll only be passing through for a day, but at least we’ll see each other.”
“That’s great!” Stepan exclaimed. “I can take the day off, and we—”
“No, no,” Alina interrupted quickly. “You have that project presentation. I’ll just meet him for lunch while you’re at work.”
Stepan frowned. “Are you sure? I could move things—”
“I’m sure,” Alina said firmly. “This presentation is too important for you. I can handle lunch with Kostya on my own.”
The truth was, Alina was afraid of something else. Kostya, her younger brother, was the only close family she had left since their parents died—and he was as simple and unpretentious as she was. She didn’t want her brother to run into Tamara Ivanovna’s thinly veiled contempt, which would surely make it clear that Alina’s family didn’t belong.
“All right,” Stepan relented. “But invite him to dinner afterward. I’ll be free around seven and come over.”
Alina buried her face in his shoulder, hiding tears of gratitude. What she loved most about her husband was how genuinely he cared about her feelings.
“Just let’s not tell your mother about Kostya yet,” she asked. “She’ll want to meet him, and he doesn’t have much time.”
Stepan gently released her and looked into her eyes.
“Alin, eventually Mom will have to meet your brother. She needs to understand that you have a family, too.”
“Yes, but not now,” Alina looked away. “First we have to survive tonight’s dinner.”
The clock read 4:30. With an hour and a half until Tamara Ivanovna’s dinner, Alina went to the bedroom to prepare—or rather, to steel herself for another round of veiled barbs about her lack of education, sophistication, and social polish. She knew Stepan sincerely hoped the two most important women in his life would reconcile, but she had nearly lost hope.
Café “Aquarelle” sat on a quiet alley not far from the city center. Alina chose a window table, glancing at her watch. Kostya was never punctual, but today she was glad of the delay—it gave her time to collect her thoughts after yesterday’s tense dinner at her mother-in-law’s.
Yesterday, Tamara Ivanovna had been unusually restrained, though she couldn’t help commenting that Alina’s blouse—bought at a regular shopping mall—looked “quite cute for its price,” and that Alina’s haircut was “practical, though lacking refinement.” Stepan had frowned but said nothing; Alina, as always, had smiled and nodded, swallowing her resentment along with the gourmet meal.
“Alinka!” came a joyful call, and she looked up.
Kostya, sun-tanned and thinner from working down south, stood at the café door with a broad smile. Alina jumped up, and a moment later her brother had lifted her off the ground in a tight hug.
“You’re like nothing weighs you down,” he teased, setting her back down. “Does your husband starve you?”
“On the contrary,” Alina laughed, sitting again. “Stepan believes good food solves all problems.”
Kostya plopped into the chair opposite her and studied her face.
“Any problems?” he asked, immediately serious.
Alina waved her hand. “Just the usual family stuff. Nothing special.”
“Mother-in-law giving you a hard time?” Kostya always had a knack for reading her. “I remember you said she wasn’t thrilled with our match.”
Alina sighed as she looked at the menu. “Let’s not be sad. Tell me about you. Did you find work in Krasnodar?”
Seeing she didn’t want to talk about her troubles, Kostya didn’t press. They spent the next hour talking about his new job in construction, his plans to start his own firm, and old friends. When dessert arrived, Alina finally asked:
“Maybe you’ll come over tonight? Stepan really wants to see you. He’ll be free around seven.”
“I’d love to,” Kostya nodded. “But first I need to stop by Sergeich to pick up some documents. It won’t take long, then I’ll come straight to you.”
They chatted a bit more, then Kostya insisted on paying despite Alina’s protests, and they left the café, hugging again goodbye.
Alina didn’t notice that Galina Petrovna—Tamara Ivanovna’s neighbor—had been sitting at the next table.
Dinner at Tamara Ivanovna’s began, as always, with aperitifs in the living room. Besides Stepan and Alina, there were Stepan’s cousin with her husband and Galina Petrovna, a retired colonel’s widow who lived next door and was the hostess’s best friend.
“Alina, dear, you look especially… rested today,” Tamara Ivanovna remarked, appraising her daughter-in-law. “Was it a good day?”
“Thank you, Tamara Ivanovna,” Alina forced a smile. “Just a normal day at work.”
“And lunch?” Galina Petrovna suddenly asked, giving Alina a curious look. “Where did you have lunch today?”
Alina blinked in surprise. “At the café near the library. Why?”
“Oh, nothing,” Galina Petrovna exchanged a meaningful glance with Tamara Ivanovna. “Just curious.”
Stepan, seated in an armchair with a glass of wine, frowned at the tone in which his mother’s friend had spoken. But before he could say anything, Tamara Ivanovna announced that dinner was served, and everyone moved to the dining room.
At first the conversation around the table was neutral—about the weather, the latest city news, the upcoming park renovation. Alina almost relaxed, until Galina Petrovna leaned over and whispered something to Tamara Ivanovna. The hostess’s face changed in an instant—her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowed.
“Alina,” Tamara Ivanovna’s voice was deceptively soft, “I didn’t realize you were so… secretive. I wonder what other interesting… acquaintances you keep.”
Alina looked at her mother-in-law in confusion. “What do you mean, Tamara Ivanovna?”
Tamara Ivanovna sipped her wine. “Your companion today,” she said, turning to Stepan. “Galina saw you at the café with a young man. You two looked very… close.”
Stepan set down his fork and faced his mother. “Mom, what are you talking about?”
“That your wife apparently spends time with strange men,” Tamara Ivanovna cut in. “Galina saw you embrace.”
Silence hung in the air. Alina felt her cheeks flush. She opened her mouth to explain, but Tamara Ivanovna wouldn’t let her speak.
“I always thought it suspicious that such a simple girl could wrap my son around her finger so quickly,” she continued, lifting her chin proudly. “I suppose you have a lot of experience, don’t you, Alinochka?”
Tamara Ivanovna, you’ve got it all wrong,” Alina said, her fingers clutching the napkin beneath the table. “That was my brother Kostya. He came to town for just one day.”
The sharp clink of the glass Tamara Ivanovna had set down sounded unexpectedly harsh.
“Oh, your brother?” she arched an eyebrow sarcastically. “How convenient. And why haven’t we heard a word about him until now?”
“Mother,” Stepan leaned forward, “I knew Kostya was coming. Alina told me everything.”
“And you believe that fairy tale?” Tamara Ivanovna fixed her son with a look of genuine incredulity. “Stepan, you’ve always been trusting, but this is ridiculous!”
Cousin Galina Petrovna, savoring the effect she had created, was quick to add, “They hugged each other so much, stared at each other… It didn’t look at all like a sibling reunion, if you ask me.”
A lump rose in Alina’s throat. Tamara Ivanovna’s cousin and her husband exchanged glances and began to examine their plates with exaggerated interest.
“Galina Petrovna,” Alina tried to keep her voice steady, “I haven’t seen my brother in nearly a year. We were simply happy to see each other.”
“Sure, sure,” the neighbor agreed with feigned naiveté. “Except it’s odd that this ‘brother’ looks exactly like the young man I saw near your house a couple of months ago. Was that a ‘brotherly’ hug too?”
Stepan straightened abruptly. “Galina Petrovna, where on earth did you get that information?”
The neighbor flushed with indignation. “I was just walking by and—”
“—And happened to be in a different part of the city,” Stepan finished for her. “Amazing how often these coincidences occur for you.”
Tamara Ivanovna rapped her knife on the rim of her plate to call attention back to herself. “Let’s not get distracted. The fact remains: Alina was seeing a man and hid it from us.”
“Mother, I repeat: that was her brother,” Stepan’s patience was clearly wearing thin. “Kostya came on business for one day.”
“So why didn’t he stop in to meet his sister’s family?” Tamara Ivanovna parried. “Something about your story doesn’t add up.”
Seeing the tension rise, Alina tried to defuse the situation. “Kostya plans to come by this evening. You can all join us and meet him, Tamara Ivanovna.”
Her mother-in-law let out a short laugh. “How sweet of you to offer that now. Had time to call and arrange it while we’ve been sitting here?”
With a clatter, Stepan pushed back his chair and stood. “Mother, that’s enough. This has gone too far.”
“Too far?” Tamara Ivanovna also rose, leaning on the table with both hands. “You’ve brought a deceiver into my home who’s got you wrapped around her finger! And now she’s lying to our faces!”
“Tamara, maybe you should listen—” began the husband of Tamara’s cousin, but he fell silent under the icy glare of the hostess.
“Shut up, Viktor! You don’t understand anything!” she snapped, turning back to her son. “From the start I told you she isn’t one of us. She’s hunting your money, your status.”
“Alina’s been working at the library for five years and didn’t quit her job after marriage, even though I offered,” Stepan said coldly. “That’s a strange way to ‘hunt for your money.’”
“It’s camouflage!” Tamara Ivanovna exclaimed. “A distraction! She’s playing you, and you’re gobbling it up!”
Alina stared silently at her plate. In the past year of marriage she had learned to detach herself from scenes like this—but today’s accusation stung too deeply.
“Mother, stop,” Stepan’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “I’m asking you for the last time.”
“No, son, I will speak,” Tamara Ivanovna swept her gaze over the assembled guests as if calling them to witness. “I’ve been silent for a year, turned a blind eye. To how this … girl latched onto you and pulled you away from your family. To how she pretends to be modest while she’s running around with men behind your back.”
“Tamara Ivanovna, I swear I’ve done nothing of the sort—” Alina began, but her mother-in-law cut her off with a wave.
“You won’t get a word in! Sit and listen!” Tamara hissed. “I’m your mother! I know what’s best for my son, and it’s certainly not some nobody librarian who sits in cafes with men!”
“Stepan, I asked her to—” Alina tried again.
“Be quiet!” Stepan raised his hand, and even his mother fell silent, stunned by the fury blazing in his eyes. “I’ve put up with your antics for a year. Your insinuations, your mockery, your contempt. I hoped you’d come to your senses and see what a wonderful, kind, sincere woman I chose. But you refused. You enjoy making her suffer.”
“Stepan, I only wanted—”
“Shut up!” he snarled. “I don’t care what you wanted! I see exactly what you’re doing! Alina never once answered back. She endured it all for my sake. But my patience has run out!”
He turned to his wife, who sat with her head bowed, and held out his hand.
“Alina, we’re leaving. Right now.”
Hesitantly, she placed her palm in his and stood.
“Stepan, don’t do this,” Tamara Ivanovna pleaded, as they headed for the door. “Let’s talk calmly—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Stepan cut in. “From today on, consider that you have no son until you apologize to Alina—sincerely, on your knees—and then we’re strangers.”
“Stepan—” Alina whispered.
“We’re doing the right thing,” he said firmly, looking only at her. “This should have happened long ago.”
They walked out, leaving stunned guests and Tamara Ivanovna frozen in mortal offense.
“Stepan!” she called to him in the entryway. “If you go now, don’t think of coming back!”
He didn’t look back as he helped Alina into her coat.
“Fine, Mother. We won’t.”
The door closed behind them with a finality that ended the protracted conflict.
In the taxi, they were silent. Alina furtively wiped away her tears, while Stepan stared out the window, still seething with anger. Only once they were home, having shed their outerwear and settled at the kitchen table with cups of tea, did they finally speak.
“I’m sorry,” Stepan took his wife’s hands in his. “I hoped she would change, that she’d understand. But I was such a fool.”
“It’s not your fault,” Alina offered a weak smile. “You only wanted what was best.”
“No, it is,” he insisted. “I should have stood up to her from the start, not let her insult you all year. But now it’s over. I won’t let anyone hurt you again—even if it’s my mother.”
Alina’s phone rang—it was Kostya. She quickly filled her brother in on what had happened and asked if they could postpone their meeting until tomorrow.
“He suggested going to see your mother,” she said after hanging up. “He says he’s ready to explain everything to her.”
Stepan shook his head. “No. It won’t help. Even if she believes he’s your brother, she’ll just find another excuse to start a scandal. I turned a blind eye for too long. We did the right thing by leaving.”
“But she is your mother,” Alina gently reminded him. “Sooner or later you’ll have to make peace.”
“Only after she apologizes to you,” Stepan said firmly. “Until then—no contact. I chose you, Alina. And I will always choose you. Even if it’s against the whole world.”
She buried her face in his shoulder, feeling the tension of the past hours finally ease.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for standing by me.”
“We’re a team,” Stepan replied, kissing the top of her head. “And no one can tear us apart. Not even my mother…