— Dasha, you don’t know how to make salads at all! This is a jubilee, not a student party! — Tamara Nikolaevna demonstratively pushed away the plate with the freshly chopped ingredients.
— I’m doing everything according to the recipe! — Dasha tried to speak calmly, though her hands were already trembling with tension.
— According to the recipe? — her mother-in-law snorted. — You have to cook with soul, not by the book! When I was your age…
— Mom, stop it! — Grigory looked up from his phone. — Dasha’s trying!
— Trying, is she… — Tamara Nikolaevna got up from the table. — Give me the knife, I’ll do it myself!
Dasha silently stepped aside. Three days of preparing for her mother-in-law’s jubilee had turned into a real hell. Every action, every word of the daughter-in-law was criticized.
— And this tablecloth… — Tamara Nikolaevna went on, automatically finishing all the chopping. — This is the kind they use in a greasy spoon! And for a jubilee you decided…
— It’s Italian textile! — Dasha forced through her teeth.
— Italian? — the mother-in-law snorted again. — I know your “Italian,” straight from the market! Grisha, tell me, couldn’t you buy a normal tablecloth?
— A normal one? — Dasha turned to her husband. — I spent a week choosing and showed you both the options!
— Well, Mom, the tablecloth is really nice… — the son mumbled.
— So you’re defending her? — Tamara Nikolaevna set the knife down. — And who paid for it? No doubt she bled your salary dry again?
— I bought it myself! With my own money! — Darya shot back through clenched teeth.
— Your own? — the mother-in-law smirked. — And what do you have that’s your own? My son’s apartment, his car, even those shoes…
— Mom! — Grigory finally put down his phone. — Enough!
— What, enough? I’m telling the truth! She pounced on him the second she found out about the apartment! Thought she’d have an easy life?
— I work no less than Grisha! And I earn plenty! And our apartment I boug… — the daughter-in-law snapped, clenching her fists.
— Oh, that’s rich! — Tamara Nikolaevna laughed theatrically, cutting Dasha off. — Your “job” is just fun and games! Sitting in your office, sipping coffee…
— I’m a financial analyst!
— A what? — the mother-in-law laughed again. — Sounds fancy! And what good is it? You can’t even chop a salad properly!
Grigory buried himself in his phone again, pretending not to notice the squabble. Dasha looked at her husband, then at her mother-in-law.
— You know what? Do your jubilee yourselves! Without me!
— Afraid of criticism? — Tamara Nikolaevna smiled triumphantly. — Grisha, you see what she’s like? The first sign of trouble and she runs for the hills!
Dasha took off her apron.
— No, I just don’t want to waste time on people who don’t respect me! — she said, removing the apron.
— Dasha, where are you going? — Grisha finally stood up. — The party’s tomorrow…
— Then get ready! The two of you! I’m going home!
— Home? — the mother-in-law narrowed her eyes. — To your rented hole? The one you lived in before the wedding?
Dasha silently grabbed her bag and left. She knew — tomorrow would be even worse. But there was no turning back.
The festive table was groaning under the food. Guests — friends and relatives of Tamara Nikolaevna — were taking their seats, congratulating the birthday woman. Dasha stood off to the side, watching it all.
— And here’s my daughter-in-law! — announced Tamara Nikolaevna loudly when she spotted Dasha. — Standing there like a stranger! Won’t even offer to help!
— I set the table two hours ago, — Dasha answered quietly.
— And what a job you did! — the mother-in-law turned to the guests. — Can you imagine, she laid out the napkins like in a cafeteria! Like for the rabble! Good thing I noticed and fixed it!
The guests exchanged uneasy glances. Grigory pretended to be absorbed in conversation with his uncle.
— Tamara Nikolaevna, let’s not… — Dasha began.
— Let’s not what? Tell the truth? — the mother-in-law raised her voice. — Did you think I’d keep quiet? No, dear, everyone should know what kind of housekeeper you are!
The birthday woman’s neighbor came up to the table.
— Tomochka, shall we make a toast?
— We shall, absolutely we shall! — Tamara Nikolaevna stood. — We’ll drink to me, to my son… But as for the daughter-in-law — I don’t know! She hasn’t earned it yet!
— Mom… — Grisha ventured.
— What “Mom”? I’m telling the truth! Now tell me… — she swept her gaze over the guests. — Can a normal woman not know how to cook properly? And she can’t! Everything burns with her!
— But I do know how to earn money! — Dasha couldn’t hold back.
— Oh, listen to the braggart! — the mother-in-law threw up her hands. — Think I don’t know how you lived before you met Grisha? In a rental, in debt…
— I was in a master’s program!
— She was stu-dy-ing! — drawled Tamara Nikolaevna. — And now she’s sitting on my son’s neck! The apartment is his, the car is his…
— I buy everything with my own money! Including the apart…
— What money of yours? — the mother-in-law turned to the guests. — Picture this: she comes to work all made-up, in high heels! Sits in an office, drinks coffee! And then says: “I work”!
Dasha felt her face burn with anger.
— Stop humiliating me!
— Humiliating? — Tamara Nikolaevna laughed. — I’m telling the truth! Women used to be different! They could cook, they had children…
— And you only had one! — burst out of Dasha.
Silence fell in the room. Tamara Nikolaevna flushed dark red.
— You… How dare you! Grisha, do you hear what she’s saying?
— Dasha, apologize to my mother! — he said to his wife, getting up from the table.
— Apologize? — Dasha looked at her husband. — After everything she said?
— She’s my mother!
— And I’m your wife! But you don’t care how she humiliates me!
Tamara Nikolaevna smiled in triumph.
— See what she’s like? No respect for her elders!
— Take that, you viper! Maybe you’ll learn not to humiliate me in front of all the guests!
Dasha grabbed a bouquet from the table and lashed her mother-in-law across the face with it. Petals scattered through the room, and the rose thorns left scratches on Tamara Nikolaevna’s face.
The guests froze. Tamara Nikolaevna clutched her face, and a thin trickle of blood ran down her cheek from the thorn scratches.
— Out!!! — Grigory roared, leaping up from the table. — Get out!!!
— With pleasure! — Dasha snatched up her bag. — Don’t forget to pack your things by evening!
— What things? — Grigory didn’t understand.
— Yours! From my apartment!
Tamara Nikolaevna lowered her hands from her face.
— Hear that, son? Your beloved is already giving orders! And you told me — she’s a good one, she’s kind…
— Shut up! — Dasha suddenly shouted. — I’m done! For three years I put up with your taunts! For three years I kept quiet while you stuck your nose into our life!
— Dasha, stop it! — Grisha stepped toward his wife.
— No, you stop it! — she turned to her husband. — Stop being a doormat! You’re a grown man, and you’re still running to your mommy!
— Don’t you dare! — Tamara Nikolaevna stood up. — Don’t you dare talk about my son like that!
— Your son? — Dasha laughed. — He hasn’t been yours for a long time! He’s my husband! Or he was, at any rate…
The guests began slipping out. Some muttered apologies, some simply slipped quietly through the door.
— There you go — she showed her true colors! — Tamara Nikolaevna looked at her son triumphantly. — I told you — she’s not the one! Not a match for you!
— Mom, be quiet, please, — Grigory said wearily.
— What?! — the mother-in-law gasped. — You’re still defending her? After what she did?
— What did I do? — Dasha turned to the guests. — I defended myself! For the first time in three years! Do you know how she tormented me? How she criticized my every move?
— I was teaching you to be a good wife!
— No! You were trying to turn me into an obedient doll! Just like you did with your son!
Grigory grabbed Dasha by the arm.
— Enough! Leave. Now!
— Get out!!! — echoed Tamara Nikolaevna. — And don’t come back!!!
— I wasn’t going to! — Dasha jerked her arm free. — But keep this in mind: the apartment is mine! I bought it with my own money! Those very same ones I supposedly don’t earn!
— Lies! — the mother-in-law turned purple. — You stole Grisha’s money!
— Check the documents! — Dasha smirked. — It’s all written there! And I paid the mortgage alone! So, Grisha, see you this evening! Drop the keys in the mailbox!
She turned and headed for the door. Behind her, Tamara Nikolaevna’s scream rang out:
— Ungrateful! Shameless! Grisha, don’t let her go!
But Dasha wasn’t listening anymore. She was walking down the stairs, feeling a strange lightness. As if a huge stone had fallen from her heart. Three years of humiliation were over. And even if it cost her marriage — it was worth it.
Dasha sat in an armchair, looking at the clock. Half an hour remained until evening.
The doorbell rang earlier. Grigory stood on the threshold with a small sports bag.
— Can I come in? It’s still my apartment too…
— Not anymore! — Dasha handed him the documents. — Everything is clearly spelled out here: the apartment was bought with my money before the marriage! No matter what your mother has made up!
Grigory scanned the papers.
— And how long have you had this ready?
— Today! Right after… the incident!
— The incident? — he smirked. — You hit my mother in the face with a bouquet! And now you call it an “incident”?
— What else would you call what happened? — Dasha folded her arms across her chest. — Your mother publicly humiliated me for three years! Today my cup of patience finally overflowed!
— She’s older than you! You should respect…
— What? Age? — Dasha cut him off. — And shouldn’t she respect me as your wife? Or is that rule one-way only?
Grigory walked into the room and tossed the bag onto the couch.
— Let’s talk calmly. Without emotions.
— Too late, Grisha! Everything’s already been said!
— You do realize that my mom just…
— No! — Dasha jumped up. — Don’t even start making excuses for her! I’m sick of it! “Mom is worried,” “Mom cares,” “Mom wants what’s best”… I’m done with that broken record! And what I want has never interested you!
— That’s not true!
— It is! When she came over without calling and conducted apartment inspections, you kept quiet! When she mocked my job, you kept quiet! When she hinted that I married you for money, you kept quiet then too!
Grigory sat in an armchair.
— So what now? Divorce?
— Yes! I’m tired of living between a hammer and anvil! Tired of pretending everything’s fine! Because nothing is fine!
— What about our plans? Children?
— What children, Grisha? — Dasha gave a bitter smile. — With your mother, who will teach me how to raise them? Who will tell them what a bad mother I am?
— You’re exaggerating…
— No! I finally see it clearly! We’re not a match! You will never take my side! You’ll never protect me from your mother!
— And she was right! You really do think only about yourself! You don’t care about anyone else! — he said, standing up.
— Perfect! — Dasha forced a smile. — Go wipe my spit off your mommy!
— So you’ll just cross out three years like that?
— Not “just.” It took me a long time to get here! Today I finally decided!
— I hope you regret it! — he said viciously, heading to the hallway.
— I won’t! Now leave! And hand me the keys right away! Although I’ll change the locks anyway, just in case your mommy has a spare tucked away!
He gave his almost-ex wife a hateful look, put the key ring on the side table and said:
— Choke on it!
— Goodbye, Grisha! — Dasha answered instead of another insult. — And tell your mother — don’t come anymore either!
A month passed. Dasha was sitting in her favorite café when she saw Tamara Nikolaevna. She headed straight for Dasha’s table with purpose.
— We need to talk! — the former mother-in-law declared without a greeting.
— We have nothing to talk about! — Dasha took a sip of coffee. — Everything’s already decided!
— Decided? — Tamara Nikolaevna sat down across from her. — Do you know that my son is suffering? He’s lost weight, looks haggard…
— That’s his life. He’s an adult.
— Adult? — the mother-in-law threw up her hands. — He’s all alone! No wife, no…
— No wife? — Dasha interrupted. — Isn’t that what you wanted?
— I wanted what’s best for him!
— No! You wanted control! Over him and over me!
The waitress approached the table. Dasha ordered another coffee; Tamara Nikolaevna declined.
— Listen, — the mother-in-law lowered her voice. — Let’s forget the past! Start over!
— Why? So it all repeats?
— I’ve changed! Truly! These weeks taught me a lot…
— You? Taught you? Nonsense! I don’t believe it! — Darya laughed.
— I realized I went too far! That I pushed too hard…
— You didn’t just push! You tried to destroy our family! And you succeeded!
The waitress brought the coffee. Dasha stirred the sugar, watching as Tamara Nikolaevna nervously worried a napkin.
— Grisha has changed a lot… — the mother-in-law began again. — He doesn’t even come to see me! Says it’s all my fault!
— Isn’t it?
— Maybe it is… — Tamara Nikolaevna unexpectedly agreed. — But I’m his mother! I wanted…
— What’s best! — Dasha finished for her. — Do you know what your problem is? You don’t see an adult man in your son! To you he’s still a child who needs coddling!
— But he…
— No! He’s a man! Or he was, at any rate! Until you turned him into a boy running to his mommy for advice!
Tamara Nikolaevna took out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.
— I can change! Really! Just come back!
— Too late! I don’t love him anymore!
— What do you mean, you don’t love him?
— Just that! Love died when I realized he would never take my side! Never protect me!
— But…
— You know… — Dasha finished her coffee. — I’m grateful to you! You were the one who opened my eyes! Showed me who he really is!
— What are you saying?
— The truth! I’m free now! And happy!
Tamara Nikolaevna stood up.
— You’ll regret this! You’ve lost a son like mine!
— Not “a son,” exactly… — Dasha smiled. — You’re the one who lost him! First your husband, and then you’ll lose your son too! Because he will grow up, after all! And he’ll understand who’s to blame for the collapse of his family!
— How dare you…
— All the best, Tamara Nikolaevna! And don’t come back! Not to me, and not into my life!
Dasha laid money for the coffee on the table and left the café. Her soul felt light. The last page of her past life had been turned…