Dasha was hurrying home. Her beloved husband was due back from a business trip today. She’d missed him so much that she’d spent the whole day floating on the happy expectation of seeing him again.
She picked up her seven-year-old daughter, Katyusha, from dance class, and now the two of them were walking briskly toward home, moving fast so they wouldn’t freeze in the frosty evening air.
“Mom… does Dad love me?” her daughter asked suddenly, surprising her.
Lately, Katya had been asking more and more “adult” questions—ones that sometimes left Dasha unsure what to say. Dasha hadn’t expected her little girl, who only yesterday seemed small enough to run under the table, to grow up so quickly. And now those words made her hesitate.
“Dad? Of course he loves you,” she replied, a little anxious. “Why are you asking, sweetheart? Do you… doubt it?”
“No. I mean… a little.” Katya looked down. “It’s just that Elina—you know, the girl I dance with—her parents got divorced недавно. She told me in secret. And now Elina thinks her dad doesn’t love her anymore. Mom, I feel sorry for her. She said today that if he loved her, he wouldn’t have left her and her mom.”
Dasha silently exhaled, relieved. For a moment, she’d panicked—thinking someone had told Katya the truth: that Timofey wasn’t her biological father, and that he’d adopted her when he and Dasha got together.
For now, she and her husband had kept that fact from their daughter. They’d agreed they would tell her when she was older.
But Timofey’s mother had stubbornly insisted they should say it now. Galina Maksimovna argued that a child should grow up knowing who is “blood” and who is not.
“Why, Mom?” Timofey had asked, baffled.
“So that later—when your daughter is already grown and suddenly learns this difficult truth—her whole familiar world doesn’t collapse,” his mother explained. “Besides, Katya should be grateful from childhood that her father adopted her. That’s how it should be!”
Timofey was against it. And Dasha fully supported her husband.
“Mom, we’ll decide ourselves when and how to tell our daughter something so important,” he’d said, annoyed.
“Exactly. And I’m asking you, Galina Maksimovna, not to say a word to Katya about it,” Dasha warned.
The relationship between the two women was complicated—more than complicated.
Every time Dasha saw her mother-in-law, she noticed the way Galina forced a smile, hiding her hostility behind a sugary mask.
Dasha wasn’t foolish. She understood the reason. Timofey had “taken her with a child.” He married Dasha and adopted her one-year-old daughter. And that, Galina Maksimovna could never forgive—neither her son nor her daughter-in-law.
“I hope, son, that sooner or later you’ll come to your senses,” Galina announced deliberately loudly right after the wedding, making sure Dasha heard. “One day you’ll understand what a mistake you made.”
“Your mother doesn’t like me,” Dasha had said sadly afterward.
“So what?” Timofey replied. “Don’t pay attention to her. The main thing is that I love you. And I absolutely adore our little girl. And soon we’ll have more children, and then we won’t care about anything anyone says. We’ll have a big family—our own loyal support team. Let people think whatever they want…”
“Once we get home, we’ll make something tasty,” Dasha said now, pushing away those unpleasant memories. “And then we’ll wait for Dad to come back from his trip.”
“Dad’s coming home today! Yay!” Katya cheered.
But when they stepped into the apartment, Dasha stopped short.
Her mother-in-law was there—inside their home. And she had never had a key.
“Oh my God!” Dasha blurted, nearly bumping into her in the entryway. “You scared me! What are you doing here, Galina Maksimovna?”
It was hard to tell what her mother-in-law had been doing by the front door—whether she’d just arrived or was about to leave.
“What do you mean, what am I doing?” the older woman snapped. “I’m waiting for you, obviously.”
“Why are you standing in the hallway? And where’s Timofey? Is he already home?”
“Don’t shout, Darya! Why are you rattling on? You nearly deafened me,” Galina complained. “I only just came in. I was trying to find slippers to change into. But of course I can’t—your place is always a mess. I’m not taking my shoes off—my feet are freezing.”
“Fine, you can keep your shoes on. I was going to mop the floors anyway,” Dasha said, still confused. She couldn’t understand what was happening—or where her husband was.
“Grandma came!” Katya squealed happily. “Come to my room! I’ll show you my drawings. And my paper crafts. I got top marks for them! Look, Grandma!”
“No, Ekaterina. I don’t have time right now,” Galina said without even a hint of a smile. “Go to your room. Your mother and I need to talk. We have a very important conversation.”
“But… I tried so hard. I drew them…” Katya muttered, offended, and went to her room.
“I don’t understand—where is Timofey?” Dasha asked as she took off her jacket. “If you’re here, that means he’s already back, right? Did he step out somewhere? Run to the store? I wasn’t expecting him until late tonight…”
She kept firing questions into silence.
Galina Maksimovna followed her into the living room and stood behind her without speaking. She was watching Dasha with a strange expression.
“Timofey wasn’t here today,” she said at last. “And he won’t be.”
“What? My God—did something happen? Why are you saying that? Are you trying to scare me?” Dasha really did feel afraid. But as she forced herself to think, anger rose too.
If her mother-in-law was here, then Timofey must have returned—because Galina hadn’t had a key. Dasha had been firmly against it. And now Galina was saying nonsense. Was something wrong with her?
“Sit down, Darya,” Galina said. “I need to talk to you seriously. This won’t be an easy conversation.”
“Fine… let’s sit,” Dasha replied, looking unsettled.
“Timofey is fine,” Galina continued. “My son is alive and well. But he hasn’t been here today. He gave me the keys to your apartment… although—no, that’s not true. What’s the point in hiding it? I’ll tell you straight. I stole the keys from Timotchka. Today, when he stopped by my place…”
“Today? You’re lying!” Dasha snapped. “My husband is on a business trip.”
For a moment she felt sick. What was going on? What kind of trap was her mother-in-law setting?
“I’m not lying,” Galina said. “That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about—well, not only that. I’m asking you for one thing: listen calmly, Darya, and don’t start a scandal. My nerves are already stretched to the limit.”
She pulled out a handkerchief and began fanning herself. The situation clearly made her hot and tense. Dasha could see that she was working up to the reason she had come.
Galina Maksimovna took a breath and forced her face into a serious look.
“Timofey is leaving you,” she said. “And that’s for the best. The decision has already been made. My son is simply too indecisive—he’ll drag it out forever because he’s afraid to upset you. So I decided to speed things up.”
“Leaving me? That’s ridiculous,” Dasha said, refusing to crumble. “Everything is fine between us. We haven’t even argued. You’re either mistaken—or you’re trying to pass your wishful thinking off as reality.”
Her mother-in-law’s words were cruel and didn’t feel true. Dasha wanted to believe it was a lie. Galina still hated her—maybe this was just revenge. Dasha couldn’t see any other explanation.
“My son is leaving for another woman,” Galina continued. “Olenka—his beloved. She recently gave birth to his daughter. His real daughter. Not an adopted one.”
“What did you say?” Dasha whispered. “Timofey had a baby?”
She couldn’t believe it. Her vision darkened at the edges, and for some reason it suddenly hurt to breathe.
“And why are you so surprised?” Galina went on, calm and cruel. “Yes, Timotchka loves your Katya. That’s his nature. He’s generous—always ready to help those who need it. He once ‘saved’ you too by marrying you, even though you already had a child from another man. Admit it, Darya—what he did was noble. But your daughter is only his stepdaughter. Not his own.”
“And you’re telling me this so casually?” Dasha’s voice shook. “My husband cheated on me and had a child on the side—and you come here for a friendly chat and expect me not to make a scene?”
“So what?” Galina shrugged. “That’s life, Darya. And you should understand: sooner or later it would’ve happened anyway. My son needs a child of his own—his blood—not an adopted one. And you, his lawful wife, for some reason never gave him one. Hmm?” She stared pointedly at her.
“That is none of your business,” Dasha shot back.
“Timofey told me you had complications after giving birth,” Galina said smugly. “That you can’t get pregnant anymore.”
“Well, good for him,” Dasha said in a voice that sounded angry and чужой even to herself. “Instead of supporting his wife, he went out and ‘worked on’ another woman.”
She was beginning to come back to herself now. And things were starting to make sense.
Yes—she had felt Timofey change over the past year. He wasn’t as gentle or attentive as before. He said he was exhausted at work. More and more often, he wanted to be alone. But she had never imagined he could betray them in such a filthy way.
They had met when little Katya had just turned one. Dasha had been in a dark place. Her first husband—the father of Katya—had turned out to be a real scumbag. He disappeared from their lives right after their daughter was born.
One day, Dasha was trying to get home from the hospital with her one-year-old in her arms. It was pouring rain, and that day it was impossible to call a taxi. Timofey stopped near them—he felt sorry for the soaked young mother with a tiny child. He offered to drive them, and Dasha gladly agreed. That was how they met.
At that time, Dasha wasn’t even thinking about getting married again. She had decided she would never tie her fate to a man. She was preparing to devote herself entirely to raising her daughter alone. But this attentive, kind man managed to melt her heart, and after a year of frequent meetings, they went to the registry office and got married.
Later Timofey began talking about having a baby. Dasha understood: a family needed a child together. She wasn’t against it either—but it turned out to be much harder than they’d expected.
A psychological barrier likely played a role—deep down, she was terrified of becoming an abandoned mother with a small child again. And there were physical issues too, so pregnancy simply wasn’t happening yet.
Dasha kept telling herself it wasn’t too late. She just needed to calm down, get in the right mindset—and it would work. But time flew, and nothing changed.
The doctors told her everything was fine. And Timofey waited.
Once she told her husband she had some health issues—complications after childbirth—and that they needed to wait. Secretly, she hoped Timofey would stop insisting on a shared child. Surely he wouldn’t divorce her because of that.
And then he really did stop bringing it up. He didn’t mention it at all anymore. If Dasha had known the reason then, she wouldn’t have been so relieved.
“I hope you’ll behave wisely, Darya,” Galina Maksimovna said coldly. “No scandals, no obstacles for Timofey. Be reasonable and let him go peacefully. In my opinion, my son deserves for you to part without drama. Remember how much good he has done for you—for you and your daughter.”
“I won’t make a scene. And I’m not going to hold him back either,” Dasha replied, steady. “If you’re done, give me back my keys. And in general—leave my home.”
“Here are your keys,” Galina said, tossing them demonstratively onto the little table. “And I have one more request. Timofey adopted your Katya. With his big heart, he couldn’t have done otherwise. But I hope you, as an honest and decent woman, won’t even think about demanding child support from him. That would be the height of audacity. Timofey has a real, blood child now. And believe me, he doesn’t have time for ‘alimony.’ Paying for someone else’s child—even if the law allows it—is absurd.”
Mission accomplished, the mother-in-law left.
Dasha sat down to wait for her husband. She was sure he would come. She just had to wait. Calm down. And wait.
When Timofey finally returned, he was exactly as he always was. He was happy to see her, smiling wide and open.
“Hi, Dashulya! Where’s Katya?” he asked cheerfully. “In her room? How did you manage without me? Is everything okay?”
“No,” Dasha said, her voice low. “No, it’s not okay. I’d even say it’s very, very not okay, my dear.”
“What happened?” Timofey frowned. “You’re so pale.”
“And where are your keys?” she asked.
“Keys? I don’t know—I can’t find them,” he said. “Maybe I lost them. Why?”
“Because your mother brought them to me,” Dasha replied. “She came to tell me some very interesting news.”
“Mom came?” Timofey blinked in surprise. “How did she get my keys? Did she say?”
“She stole them—when you stopped by her place today,” Dasha said sharply, staring straight into his eyes. “Did you go to her place today?”
“Of course not,” Timofey said immediately. “What are you talking about? I only just got back from the trip. I don’t understand… Wait. She probably took them from my pocket when I went to her place before I left—two days ago. But why? What did she want?” He looked even more confused.
“She came to tell me that you’re leaving us,” Dasha said, her voice trembling. “And that you have a daughter. Your own daughter, Tim.”
“What?!” he choked.
“You heard me. Don’t look at me like that,” Dasha snapped. She was close to tears; her whole body was shaking from nerves.
“This is insane,” Timofey said. “Who gave birth? When? Where? And what does it have to do with me?”
“That’s enough,” Dasha cut him off. “No more circus. No more stupid questions. You tell me everything—right now. From the beginning.”
“No,” Timofey said firmly. “First you tell me what my mother has been saying about me.”
Dasha told him what Galina had said two hours earlier. Timofey’s face changed as he listened.
“So that’s what she came up with,” he said, furious. “How does a person even think of something like that? I get it—she doesn’t like you. She’s wanted to split us up from day one. She still can’t accept that I adopted a child who isn’t mine by blood. But this… I have no words.”
“So you’re saying there’s no woman?” Dasha pressed. “No child? No daughter?”
“What child, Dasha? This is the first time I’ve heard anything like this,” Timofey said. “Mom has a neighbor named Olya—she’s been dying to set me up with her for ages. But it’s nonsense. I don’t need that Olya at all. I love you, Dashulya. I love you and Katya.”
“In that case… your mother is a monster,” Dasha whispered, stunned. “How could she even do that?”
Dasha truly couldn’t grasp how a grown woman could lie so shamelessly—make up something so ugly—just to destroy her own son’s marriage.
“And what about the fact that we don’t have children together yet?” Dasha asked quietly. “Your mother threw it in my face—that I can’t get pregnant.”
“Oh, you’ll have one,” Timofey said confidently. “Where are you going to get away from it?” He tried to smile. “And what’s the rush? We already have one daughter. We’ll have another. Or a son. I believe it—and you should believe it too. God willing, everything will be fine.”
That was it—Dasha broke down. She cried from relief and from hurt.
Relief, because the man beside her was truly good—her husband. Hurt, because his mother hated them—her and her little girl—so deeply. And hurt also because she still couldn’t give Timofey the baby he dreamed of.
Galina Maksimovna didn’t get what she wanted. The spouses didn’t fight and didn’t separate, no matter how much she had hoped they would. And from that day on, the door to their apartment was closed to her forever.
And a year later, Dasha and Timofey had a son.
Now they are raising two children—and they are very happy, all together.