Mom, I need to talk to you. I have important news,” Oleg began as soon as he stepped into the living room.
Alina Ivanovna didn’t take her eyes off the screen.
“What now? You’re so serious, it’s almost scary.”
“I want to tell you about an important step in my life. I have a fiancée. Her name is Vika. We’ve filed the paperwork at the registry office. The wedding is coming soon.”
Before he could finish, his mother suddenly turned around as if she had heard something unbelievable. Her face froze in astonishment: eyes wide open, lips half parted, hands clutching the remote control tightly.
“Well, you don’t cease to amaze me!” she snorted, turning off the TV. “I’m sure this is the best news I’ll get tonight. So who is this mysterious lady?”
“Mom, let’s keep the sarcasm out of this,” Oleg winced. “We’ve been together for six months. It’s real love. We care about each other.”
“Six months?!” Alina Ivanovna threw up her hands. “You hid this for six whole months? And now you expect me to drop everything and rush to this… Vika with open arms?”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t rush to tell you,” he sighed. “You always judge by appearances: family, status, money. You don’t care at all who she is inside.”
“Son, we have a reputation,” the woman said coldly. “Respect, connections, business. I don’t want some random person to destroy all that. You’re almost thirty and still so naïve.”
“Enough,” Oleg cut her off. “Yes, Vika is from the village. So what? She’s sincere, genuine. She hasn’t asked for anything, not even a hint that she wants our money. That’s what matters, Mom.”
His mother sat like a statue. Her face paled; the cup of tea wobbled dangerously on the table — almost tipping over.
“Are you joking?” she whispered. “Are you okay? Education, career, prospects… And you choose a girl from the village?”
“Mom, you just don’t know Vika. We met by chance — in the summer, when she was working at a coffee shop. When I saw her eyes, her smile… I realized I couldn’t pass her by.”
“Of course, of course,” Alina Ivanovna snorted. “All those village girls are so kind, honest, smart… Like princesses or something!”
“Stop it,” Oleg tensed. “You’re unfair. She’s nothing like what you think. Kind, smart, caring. She made me happy.”
“She probably digs potatoes perfectly too,” his mother continued to mock.
Oleg clenched his fists. Those last words were the last straw.
“This is my choice. I love her. And I’m getting married. Whether you approve or not.”
He abruptly turned and left. Alina Ivanovna remained sitting, watching his back with her eyes:
“Suit yourself… But don’t say later I didn’t warn you.”
Later that evening, Alina Ivanovna’s old friend Katya came over.
“I have news for you,” the hostess began with a sly smile, pouring tea.
“Did you finally find a way to get rid of the annoying neighbor?” Katya joked.
“Better. Imagine, Oleg decided to get married!”
“Well, thank God! It’s about time he started a family. My Dima already has a second child, and yours is still single.”
“It’s not that simple,” Alina Ivanovna shook her head. “He chose a girl from the provinces. She worked in a coffee shop while studying. Fifty kilometers by bus every day!”
“So what? You’ll help, support her,” Katya replied calmly.
But her friend frowned — she didn’t like that reaction.
“She’s just using his money!” she exclaimed. “They all dream of hooking into city comforts and never going back.”
“Maybe she really doesn’t mind,” Katya agreed. “Digging garden beds — that’s her level. And Oleg will only have problems with her.”
“Exactly!” Alina Ivanovna got inspired. “I have an idea. Remember Svetlana Petrova? She told how she got her son away from a kept woman: she asked a beauty to seduce him and take pictures. A week later, it was over.”
“Tell me more!” Katya became interested.
“We need to find the right girl. Maybe this method will work for me too. Svetka promised to give the contact of her acquaintance.”
A few days later, Alina Ivanovna met Angelina — a slim brunette with confident manners and glasses in an expensive frame.
“Just the kind for Oleg,” the woman thought, studying her. “Blue eyes, well-groomed look. He loves girls like that.”
“Hello, please sit down,” Angelina politely offered. “Tea or coffee?”
“Thanks, no. Let’s get to the point.”
“My name is Alina Ivanovna. You’re Angelina, right?”
“Yes. What do you need?”
“My son might be deceived. He fell for the wrong woman. A simple girl from the provinces. I’m afraid he’ll ruin his life.”
“I see,” Angelina smirked. “And you want me to distract him?”
“You’re charming, striking. You can interest him. I’m willing to pay for your efforts. Are you in?”
“I’ll need photos and work address. Results in a couple of days.”
Everything went according to plan. Angelina met Oleg, arranging a “chance” acquaintance. Photos from their meeting were sent to Alina Ivanovna: hugging, and in one, even kissing on the cheek.
Now all that remained was to arrange a “chance” meeting with Vika. Alina Ivanovna decided to play the role of the resigned mother:
“Hello, Olezhek? It’s me.”
“Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“I thought… maybe I should come visit you this weekend? It’s time to meet Vika. Since you’re serious, I’m ready to accept your choice.”
“Really?” Oleg’s voice trembled with excitement. “She’ll be glad. I’ll organize everything. I’ll pick you up from the city.”
“Thanks, son. Looking forward to our meeting,” Alina Ivanovna replied softly, trying to sound warmer despite her internal restraint.
After hanging up, she froze thoughtfully, her gaze falling on an old photo of her husband. Her lips trembled slightly.
“All for him… for Oleg… as you asked,” she whispered, wiping a solitary tear.
Oleg confidently held the wheel. The car moved forward, gently bouncing over bumps. His face expressed calmness, even slight excitement — as if something bright awaited them ahead. The atmosphere in the cabin was warm: the mother sitting beside him unexpectedly joined the conversation. At first restrained, half-whispered, then livelier — with intonations, laughter, and memories.
They talked about Oleg’s school years, summer trips to grandma’s, the family photo album they once flipped through together. Alina Ivanovna spoke with good-natured irony, characteristic only of those who have endured much. Oleg smiled and supported her, not taking his eyes off the road. He enjoyed the trip as if he hadn’t been so close to his mother for a long time.
Alina Ivanovna felt her heart warm. “It’s easier now,” flashed through her mind. But that illusion shattered as soon as Oleg said:
“Mom, we’re almost there. Just a couple of kilometers left.”
Her face immediately tensed. Suspicion returned. They were driving along a narrow, bumpy road leading to a village stretching along the river. In spring, it must flood here. Shops — just a couple of half-collapsed stalls and one village store. The car’s suspension creaked on the entrance road — the road was full of potholes.
“Don’t tell me this is the main road?” she said displeased, frowning. “In the twenty-first century, and it’s like the Stone Age here!”
The car rattled over every bump, and Alina Ivanovna involuntarily clenched her teeth.
“God, what a nightmare! Couldn’t they at least pave it?” she threw up her hands.
“There aren’t really any other streets,” Oleg chuckled. “But don’t worry, the company matters more than the road.”
“The road, son, is the face of a place. And here everything is… forgotten. Old-fashioned, uncomfortable. Do you really want to live here?”
“Yes, Mom,” he nodded. “Vika is here. The air is cleaner here, people are simpler. And you know, I love this silence. The city tires me.”
The woman sighed, crossing her arms.
“Alright, I’ll try not to complain. But if the road back is the same — promise me you’ll pick your next fiancée from the city. With proper asphalt under the windows.”
Oleg laughed, deciding it was a joke. Seeing his reaction, Alina Ivanovna also smiled. But inside, she felt a slight guilt.
“There’s Vika’s house,” Oleg said, turning aside.
“The last time I was in the village… I think it was before I met your father,” the mother said thoughtfully, looking out the window.
She expected to see a crooked fence, a peeling little house. But reality surprised her.
The house was neat, well-kept, with carved window frames, flowers on the windows, and a clean path laid out. Everything was so harmonious that Alina Ivanovna even held her breath.
“Unexpected…” she finally said. “Maybe her parents help her?”
“Vika doesn’t have parents. She’s been alone since childhood. Please don’t bring this up around her — it’s painful.”
The woman nodded. For the first time in a long time, she felt awkward. She felt like she had intruded into a carefully created private world.
“Why did I even come here?” flashed through her mind. The plan she came with was starting to lose shape.
“Where is she? Why isn’t she meeting us?” Alina Ivanovna asked, looking around the tidy yard.
“In the kitchen. Cooking. She wanted us to have a tasty dinner.”
She didn’t have time to scoff — the scent of baking and herbs hit her nose. It was the smell of home. Warmth. Comfort.
When she entered, a strange feeling overwhelmed her — as if she had stepped into a fairy tale. A spacious living room, soft carpet, a fireplace with crackling firewood — everything was thought out to the smallest detail. Not just beautiful. Truly warm.
Alina Ivanovna froze. Could this really be the Vika she had already categorized as a “village girl”?
“Mom, how are you? Everything okay?” Oleg asked, taking her hand.
“I just don’t understand… How can a girl who works summers like this live?”
“It’s her labor. And she does it with her soul,” he answered quietly.
Vika appeared from the kitchen. Light brown hair neatly gathered, kind eyes, smooth movements. Everything about her was unexpected.
“Hi, dear,” Oleg hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. “Meet my mom.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Alina Ivanovna,” Vika smiled softly, extending her hand. “Oleg told me a lot about you. I’m very glad you came.”
The woman gave a brief nod, trying to be polite but remained wary inside. She quickly sized up the girl. Vika looked too confident, too well-groomed. Not at all what she had imagined.
“Not what I thought,” Alina Ivanovna noted to herself. “But my goal is different. The main thing is to stay alone with her.”
“Very nice, Victoria,” she said cautiously. “It’s cozy here… and smells good.”
“Thank you! Come to the kitchen, the table is already set,” Vika replied, hoping the evening would start warmly.
They spent a long time at the table. Cabbage pie, potatoes in sour cream, mint tea — homemade dishes brought them together. Vika tried to be friendly, asked questions, gave compliments. Alina Ivanovna responded restrainedly; distrust was clear in her gaze.
Oleg felt the tension. He cracked jokes, recalled school stories, his first meeting with Vika, his failed attempts at cooking. He wanted these two important women in his life to find common ground.
When the evening was drawing to a close, Vika realized the ice hadn’t broken yet. She felt tired, confused but didn’t lose hope — there was still plenty of time ahead to win trust and respect.
Then came that moment. Oleg went outside — supposedly to check the car because something was making noise. Only Vika and his mother remained in the kitchen.
“Tell me, Vika…” Alina Ivanovna broke the silence, moving a bit closer. “Do you really love my son?”
“Of course,” Vika answered softly, smiling. “How could I not love such a person? He is caring, attentive, knows how to support. With him, I feel truly happy. Honestly.”
“Yes, that’s how I raised him,” the woman nodded, taking her phone out of her bag. “Do you want to see what he was like as a child? I have some sweet photos saved. Some funny ones even…”
“Gladly!” Vika was happy, not suspecting the trap behind it.
Alina Ivanovna started flipping through the album. Little Oleg with a toy, then in a bunny costume at a school morning party, then at the dacha with a bucket of berries. Vika laughed, commented, admired.
But then — the tenth photo. Oleg hugging a beautiful stranger. The next shot — they’re kissing.
It was Angelina.
The mother-in-law watched the girl’s expression, expecting pain, shock, maybe tears. But Vika just calmly flipped past.
“Beautiful photos,” she said indifferently, then added, “I’ll go wash the dishes, you relax.”
Alina Ivanovna was left alone, feeling a strange burning inside. Her plan had failed. Where she expected pain, there was confidence. Where jealousy should have been — calm.
“Why didn’t she throw a fit? Why didn’t she ask?” thoughts raced in the woman’s head.
“And these photos… with some girl… do you know her?” she finally couldn’t hold back.
“Yes, I do,” Vika answered, wiping a plate. “She’s a client who tried to flirt with Oleg. He told me. She was clingy, followed him. Someone even took photos.”
“Then how do you have these pictures?”
“Oleg sent them to me himself,” Vika replied shortly, not wanting to discuss it further.
Alina Ivanovna slowly got up and went to her room. She didn’t turn on the light, lay down, and stared at the ceiling for a long time. “Looks like everything’s decided now…” With this thought, she fell asleep.
From that day, active wedding preparations began. Oleg and Vika were full of enthusiasm. And Alina Ivanovna returned home in a state of deep internal tension: broken plans, the need to accept a reality she didn’t want to see.
At the actual celebration, she stood among the guests like an actress on stage, stubbornly keeping a mask of joy. The smile was forced, the voice polite, but inside everything boiled: hurt, irritation, helpless anger.
When the newlyweds exchanged vows, she seemed petrified. Thoughts spun in her head like a stuck record: How did this happen? How did I let this happen?
Her old friend Katya stood nearby as support.
“I did everything!” Alina Ivanovna hissed through her teeth. “I tried to stop this crazy idea. Why didn’t he listen to me?”
“Don’t,” Katya tried to stop her, but didn’t finish.
Sudden hurried footsteps sounded behind. Turning around, the women saw Vika — flushed, happy, with a radiant smile.
“Alina Ivanovna, do you like everything? The hall, music, food?” she asked breathlessly.
“Everything is very decent,” the mother-in-law replied dryly, nodding mechanically. “Well done.”
“Great!” Vika beamed. “Then I’ll run, the cake will be out soon!”
She left, leaving behind a shadow of bewilderment.
“This is absurd. A mistake. A gross mistake,” Alina Ivanovna muttered through clenched teeth, her face twisted. “My family must not be part of this. I won’t allow it…”
“God, Alina, not this,” Katya whispered, grabbing her hand.
But it was too late.
The woman decisively stepped into the center of the hall. Her voice cut through the silence like a gong:
“May I have your attention! I can’t keep silent any longer!”
Guests turned. A tense pause followed.
“This wedding is not a union, but a mistake!” Alina Ivanovna continued. “My son has tied his life to a woman who is not his match. She’s nobody. No education, no prospects. Just a village, simple origins, and obvious interest in our status.”
Shocked whispers ran through the hall. People exchanged looks, not believing their ears.
“You heard me right,” she raised her voice. “This isn’t love. It’s calculation. She took him not with her heart, but with a need to escape poverty.”
Vika froze, gripping Oleg’s hand. Her eyes filled with pain.
“How can you say such things?!” she said in a trembling voice.
“Why not?” Alina Ivanovna replied coldly. “Tell me honestly, Victoria — what can you give my son besides a smile and a crooked village house?”
Oleg stepped forward, his face hardened, his voice sharp:
“Mom, enough! This is our day. There’s no place for such statements. You crossed the line.”
But the woman wasn’t going to give up. Her anger burst out — not so much against Vika as against her son, who chose his own path despite her expectations.
“You chose her? Fine. But don’t expect my support. I can’t pretend to approve this marriage.”
Vika felt something breaking inside. Every word from Oleg’s mother hurt deeper than a blow. The pain became unbearable. She couldn’t keep silent any longer.
“I’m sorry if my presence offended anyone,” she said quietly, barely holding back tears. “But I love Oleg. He is important to me. Not because of money, not for benefit — simply because he’s in my life. I ask only for respect. And love… you just don’t understand what it is.”
“You don’t even know what real love is!” Alina Ivanovna cut her off, clenching her fists. “Love is care, responsibility, equality. And you…”
“Enough! Stop!” Oleg sharply interrupted, stepping between them. “She is my wife. And you have no right to insult her. Not today, not ever.”
The silence in the hall became almost tangible. Guests froze, unsure where to look. Alina Ivanovna suddenly felt everything inside collapse. She hadn’t just lost the argument — she had lost her son.
She stood rooted to the spot, her face pale, lips pressed into a thin line. After Oleg’s words, which sounded like a verdict, confusion flickered in her eyes — a feeling she had long forgotten. Slowly, like an aging woman, she took a step back, then another, lowering her gaze. Inside her, the awareness of her own mistake lay like a heavy stone.
At that moment, voices came from the corridor, breaking the tense silence. Everyone turned. At the doorway appeared an elderly couple in expensive suits and elegant dresses.
“Vika, are you okay?” a woman with a noble posture called out worriedly.
“Who are you?” Alina Ivanovna asked surprised, raising her eyebrows.
“We are her parents.”
Oleg froze. His mind refused to accept what was happening. His Vika — a modest village girl — suddenly turned out to be the daughter of wealthy parents?
He shifted his gaze from her to her father and mother; inside him raged doubts, pain, and resentment. What he believed was falling apart before his eyes.
“Explain what’s going on,” he quietly but painfully asked. “Vika, what does this all mean?”
“Let’s go talk,” she gently took his hand and suggested.
Alina Ivanovna didn’t wait: she followed them, not wanting to miss the continuation of this drama.
In the shadow of the columns, in the far corner of the lobby, Vika spoke:
“Oleg… I’m ashamed. I was afraid the truth would ruin everything. My parents really are well-off. From childhood, I had everything: education, upbringing, opportunities. But I wanted to be loved not for the name or money. When I worked summers at the coffee shop, it was my choice. I wanted to know what it’s like to be myself, without the heir’s mask.”
“So you pretended?” Oleg’s voice trembled. “Deliberately hid who you really are?”
“No, I didn’t pretend. I’m really comfortable in simplicity. In the village, I feel free. I chose you because you saw me as a person, not as an heiress. You’re the first who looked me in the eyes, not at the bank account.”
“How many more secrets do you have?” he asked bitterly. “We were going to tie our lives together. Why didn’t you trust me?”
“There are no more secrets,” Vika shook her head. “I chose you not for the outside, but for the inside. You are real. The first who became truly important to me.”
Listening to all this, Alina Ivanovna felt the ground crumble beneath her feet. She had belittled this girl, thinking her a nobody, and now it turned out — Vika was worthy of more than she had ever imagined.
“Now everything falls into place,” Oleg said, looking around the house that seemed so simple to him. “I always wondered how she managed to create such comfort. Now it’s clear.”
“Yes, my dad and I built it. Not for show, but because I wanted my own place. And I didn’t ask you for anything but love.”
“Did you think I would use you?” he asked slowly, looking into her face.
“I was afraid to lose you,” she whispered. “But now you know the whole truth.”
Alina Ivanovna couldn’t stand it — she abruptly turned and left. The realization of what she had done crushed her heart. Today she had not only humiliated Vika but lost her son’s respect. Possibly forever.
“Forgive me…” was all she could say before disappearing behind the door.
Oleg remained standing, holding Vika’s hand. Inside him was a mixture of feelings — hurt, disappointment, but also love that could not be undone.
He silently followed his mother — he needed to be alone. To endure, accept, realize.
Weeks passed. Months. But over time, Oleg managed to forgive Vika. Not for the deception, but for the love that turned out to be stronger. They stayed in the village — by mutual decision. He refused the apartment given by Vika’s parents. He didn’t want anything to tie them except themselves.
Relations with his mother were restored slowly. Alina Ivanovna understood: her words and actions were the cause of the rift. And that pain tormented her more than any reproaches.
Only a year later, thanks to Vika’s gentle influence, Oleg began to talk with his mother again. They didn’t become the same as before but found new, warm notes in their communication.
Alina Ivanovna started coming regularly to the newlyweds. Then she stayed — helping with the grandchildren. And when little hands first embraced her, the woman realized: she had found true happiness. One that can’t be bought but can be found in family, love, and forgiveness.