— Have you completely lost your mind? — Andrey hurled his phone onto the table so hard the screen flashed and went black. — My mother has been all alone for three days, and where the hell have you been?
Katya froze in the doorway, grocery bags pulling painfully at her arms. The December evening had already swallowed the last of the light outside, and the entryway was dark except for a yellow strip of light spilling in from the kitchen.
—I was at work. Then I stopped by the store, — she said, setting the bags down on the floor, her fingers numb from the weight. — What happened?
— What happened? — he repeated, stepping out of the kitchen, and she saw his face—red, furious, almost unrecognizable. — Mom called. She complained. Said you didn’t even stop by yesterday. Even though you promised.
Katya took off her coat and hung it on the hook. Her hands were trembling—whether from the cold or from something deeper, she couldn’t tell. She really hadn’t gone yesterday. She had been stuck at work until nine at night, finishing the quarterly report that the new accountant, Lyudka, had completely messed up. And then she’d come home and collapsed onto the bed.
— Andryusha, I was working till late last night. We had a complete emergency at the office…
— I don’t give a damn about your emergency! — he snapped, stepping closer and looming over her. — If you don’t take care of my mother, I’ll make you regret it! You’ll cook, clean, and do her laundry! Do you even understand that she lives alone? She needs help!
Katya stepped back until her shoulders hit the wall. Her heart was pounding somewhere in her throat, making it hard to breathe. She looked at her husband and didn’t recognize him. When had this begun? A month ago? Two? Or earlier, and she just hadn’t wanted to see it?
— Your mother manages perfectly well on her own, — she said quietly. — She’s only sixty-two. She’s healthy, active…
— Shut up! — Andrey barked. — And now you’re going to argue with me? I said you’ll go to her place every day. You’ll clean, cook, wash her clothes. And I don’t want to hear a single excuse!
He turned sharply and went back into the kitchen. Katya remained in the hallway, her back pressed against the cold wall. Everything inside her tightened into a hard knot. She closed her eyes, trying to calm down, but images from the last few weeks flashed before her. The way Andrey had changed. The way he had become rough, demanding. And his mother—Valentina Stepanovna—calling every day, complaining about one thing after another, hinting that her daughter-in-law had completely forgotten her duties.
It had all started after that visit in November.
Katya had brought pies to her mother-in-law’s apartment—homemade ones, with cottage cheese. She had spent her whole day off baking them. Valentina Stepanovna had opened the door with a sour look on her face.
— What’s this? — she asked, pointing at the box.
— Pies. I baked them for you…
— With cottage cheese? Katya, I told you I don’t eat cottage cheese. I’m intolerant. Do you not listen to me at all?
Katya had been thrown off balance. There had never been any intolerance—last time her mother-in-law had happily eaten cottage cheese casserole. But she said nothing, just nodded and took the pies back.
— And another thing, — Valentina Stepanovna said, walking into the living room, with Katya obediently following behind, — you come far too rarely. Andryusha has become just like you. He used to call every week, and now it’s once a month if I’m lucky.
— Valentina Stepanovna, we live twenty minutes away from you. You can always come visit us…
— Oh, so now I’m supposed to go to you? — her mother-in-law asked, settling into an armchair and folding her hands in her lap. — I, a sick woman, am supposed to drag myself all the way across the city?
A sick woman. Katya silently looked at the same woman who had posted yoga photos on social media two days earlier and boasted just a week before that she had run five kilometers in the park.
That conversation had ended with Valentina Stepanovna bursting into tears and calling Andrey. That night at home, her husband had exploded.
— You made my mother cry! She didn’t sleep all night!
— I didn’t do anything…
— Be quiet! Starting tomorrow, you’re going to her place every day. No arguments!
Katya hadn’t believed him then. She thought he would cool down, forget about it. But Andrey didn’t forget. Every evening he checked whether she had gone to see his mother. He called Valentina Stepanovna and pressed her for details. And his mother… his mother was playing her own game.
— Katya came by, but only for a minute, — she would complain to her son. — She didn’t even sit down for tea with me. She rushed right out.
— She didn’t really clean properly. Dust everywhere.
— She did the laundry, but she hung it up all wrong. Everything wrinkled.
Week after week, day after day, Valentina Stepanovna found new reasons to be dissatisfied. And Andrey grew angrier and angrier.
Now Katya lifted the bags from the floor and carried them into the kitchen. Her husband was sitting at the table, staring at his phone. She began putting away the groceries, arranging them on the shelves. The silence pressed against her temples.
— Tomorrow you’re going to Mom’s first thing in the morning, — Andrey said without looking up. — Clean the place up and make lunch. She wants stuffed cabbage rolls.
— Tomorrow’s Saturday. I have my own plans…
He slowly raised his head. There was something in his eyes that made her take an involuntary step back.
— What plans? — he asked softly, too softly. — You don’t get to have plans other than taking care of my mother. Understood?
She nodded. What else could she do?
That night Katya lay awake in the darkness. Beside her, Andrey was already snoring—just as always, asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. But she couldn’t sleep. One question kept spinning in her mind: when? When had everything gone wrong?
They had been married for three years. Andrey had once been attentive, caring. He brought her flowers for no reason, kissed her in the mornings before work, surprised her with romantic dinners. Back then Valentina Stepanovna had been different too—pleasant, warm, calling Katya “my dear girl.”
Everything changed in September. Katya was promoted at work and offered leadership of her department. It was a great position, with a salary increase. She came home glowing with happiness and told Andrey. He congratulated her, hugged her… and that evening his mother called.
— Andryusha, aren’t you afraid Katya will forget all about her family now? — Valentina Stepanovna’s voice sounded concerned, but beneath the concern there was something sharp. — Career women rarely make good wives.
— Mom, don’t start…
— I’m just worried about you, son. You see it yourself—she spends more and more time at work. She’s hardly home. She barely cooks dinner anymore. Before long she’ll leave you altogether.
Katya overheard that conversation by accident—she had stepped onto the balcony where Andrey was standing with his phone. He hadn’t noticed her. She listened and couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
— You’re right, Mom. Something has to change.
And he started changing things. First the little things—criticizing dinner, complaining that she came home late. Then worse—demanding that she quit her job, accusing her of being a bad wife. And his mother kept feeding the fire. She called every day, lamenting how lonely she was, how Katya had forgotten her, how a daughter-in-law was supposed to take care of her.
— I raised you, Andryusha, — she would say. — I gave you my whole life. And now what? You’ve forgotten about me?
— No, Mom, I haven’t…
— Then tell that wife of yours to do her duty. Let her come and help me.
And Andrey did. He demanded. He ordered. He shouted.
Katya turned onto her other side. Snow was falling outside—big soft flakes sticking to the glass, melting and leaving wet trails behind. New Year’s was only a week away. She used to love that holiday. The tree, the tangerines, the lights. Now all of it felt чужим, distant, as though it belonged to someone else.
She thought about how tomorrow she would go to Valentina Stepanovna’s place again. She would clean, cook, listen to complaints. And her mother-in-law would find something wrong—she always did. Then she would call Andrey. And that evening there would be another fight.
Katya closed her eyes. Fatigue pressed down on her like a lead blanket, but sleep would not come. Instead there were thoughts—sticky, anxious thoughts. What should she do? How was she supposed to live like this? And worst of all—was there any way out at all?
In the next room, on the bedside table, lay Andrey’s phone. A message from his mother lit up the screen: Son, don’t forget to remind her about the cabbage rolls. And tell her to wash the floors too—last time she didn’t wipe them properly.
The next morning Katya stood at the door of Valentina Stepanovna’s apartment with heavy grocery bags—cabbage for the cabbage rolls, ground meat, rice. The key turned in the lock with a familiar click.
— Oh, it’s you, — her mother-in-law said, emerging from the room in a robe, even though it was already eleven. — Finally decided to show up, did you?
— Good morning, Valentina Stepanovna, — Katya said, walking into the kitchen and placing the bags on the table. — I brought everything for the cabbage rolls.
— We’ll see what you brought, — her mother-in-law muttered, digging through the bag and grimacing. — This cabbage looks limp. How can anyone make cabbage rolls out of something like that?
Katya stayed silent. The cabbage was fresh and crisp—she had picked it herself. But there was no point arguing.
She started cooking. Her mother-in-law sat at the table, watching every movement she made. The silence stretched on, heavy on her shoulders.
— You know, Katya, — Valentina Stepanovna finally began, — Zhanna was here yesterday. Do you remember Zhanna? My friend.
Katya nodded without turning around. She remembered Zhanna—a tall brunette with a predatory gaze who always looked at her with chilly curiosity.
— Well, she told me something interesting. Her nephew had a wife just like you—a career woman. Worked late, neglected her husband. Do you know how it ended?
— No, — Katya said quietly, slicing the cabbage.
— He divorced her. Found someone else—a proper woman who valued family. And that one was left all alone. With her precious job.
Katya tightened her grip on the knife. The message was as clear as glass.
— I’m not a career woman. I just work.
— You work, — her mother-in-law mocked. — And forget your family. Your husband. Me, an old woman. Do you think Andryusha doesn’t notice?
The doorbell rang. Valentina Stepanovna brightened and got up quickly.
— Oh, that’s Zhanna! I asked her to stop by. We’ll have tea together.
Katya felt cold all over. So this visit had been planned. The two of them would sit there, watch her, gossip about her…
Zhanna entered in a cloud of heavy perfume, took off her mink coat, and gave Katya an appraising look.
— Valechka, darling! — she said, kissing her friend on both cheeks. — Oh, cabbage rolls? Wonderful! Katya, dear, you’re such a good little homemaker.
Her tone was sugary, but fake. Katya said nothing and kept cooking.
The women sat down at the table. Valentina Stepanovna made tea and brought out cookies. Katya stood by the stove, feeling their eyes on her.
— You know, Zhannochka, — her mother-in-law began, — I was just thinking. Andrey’s anniversary is coming up soon—he’ll be thirty-five. We should celebrate properly.
— Absolutely! — Zhanna agreed. — A date like that! And you, Valechka, are wonderful—always taking care of your son. Not like some wives…
Another jab. Katya turned toward the window, pretending to be busy with the cabbage.
— That’s exactly what I’m saying, — Valentina Stepanovna continued. — Maybe we should organize something. Invite fifty people, rent a restaurant. Andryusha would be thrilled.
Katya turned around.
— But his birthday is still two months away…
— So what? — her mother-in-law looked at her coldly. — Are we not allowed to prepare ahead of time? Or do you think your husband doesn’t deserve a real celebration?
— That’s not what I meant…
— Then what did you mean? — Zhanna cut in with a smile. — Are you sorry to spend money on your husband?
— No, I just…
— She always has an excuse, — Valentina Stepanovna said sharply. — It’s always work, or she’s tired, or something else. But she never spares money on herself—just look at that expensive jacket of hers.
Katya glanced at her coat hanging in the entryway. An ordinary coat, bought three years ago on sale. But explaining that would have been pointless.
— Never mind, Valechka, don’t upset yourself, — Zhanna said, patting her friend’s hand. — We’ll organize everything ourselves. I know someone—Gennady Borisovich, he owns a restaurant. He’ll give us a good discount. Katya can just show up and smile. That should be within her abilities, I hope?
They both laughed. Katya stood there with her lips pressed together. Everything inside her was boiling, but she held herself still. Give them another reason to complain to Andrey? Never.
The next hour dragged by painfully. The women drank tea and discussed guests, menu options, outfits. Katya silently prepared the cabbage rolls, wrapping the filling in the leaves one after another. Her hands moved automatically while her mind drifted far away.
— And we’ll invite my nephew too, — Zhanna said thoughtfully. — Bogdan is a good man, successful. Works for a big company, just bought an apartment. Single, by the way.
— Why would we need a single man there? — Valentina Stepanovna asked, though there was something knowing in her tone.
— Oh, come on, — Zhanna smirked. — You never know. Andrey’s still young, promising. Maybe one day he’ll realize married life didn’t work out. He should at least know there are better options out there.
Katya spun around sharply. They weren’t even hiding it. They were sitting there over tea, openly planning the destruction of her marriage—in front of her.
— Exactly right, Zhannochka, — her mother-in-law nodded. — Bogdan is an excellent man. I’ll definitely introduce him to Andrey.
— Are you… are you serious? — Katya blurted out.
Both women looked at her in surprise, as though they had forgotten she was even there.
— And what is the problem? — Valentina Stepanovna asked innocently. — Is my son not allowed to make friends?
— This isn’t about friendship, — Katya said, stepping toward the table. — You’re deliberately…
— Deliberately what? — Zhanna arched an eyebrow. — Katya, dear, you’re far too suspicious. We’re just discussing a party. Or are you against your husband associating with successful people?
The trap snapped shut. Whatever Katya said now would be turned against her. If she said she was against it, she’d be painted as jealous and hysterical. If she stayed silent, they would take that as agreement.
She turned away and went back to the stove. Finished the cabbage rolls and put them in the oven. Her hands were trembling.
— Good. I’m glad you understand, — Valentina Stepanovna said with satisfaction. — Smart girl, after all.
When the cabbage rolls were ready, Katya silently cleaned the kitchen and washed the dishes. Her mother-in-law and Zhanna moved into the living room, their voices drifting from there—low, pleased. They were clearly very satisfied with themselves.
As she was leaving, Katya heard Zhanna’s final words:
— You’ll see, Valechka. In a couple of months your son will be free. And happy.
The door closed behind her. Katya stood on the landing, unable to move. Her head was ringing. So that was it. So it had all been calculated, planned. Valentina Stepanovna wasn’t just a difficult mother-in-law—she wanted to destroy the marriage. And Zhanna and her nephew were tools for the job.
Her phone vibrated. A message from Andrey: Mom says you were rude to her friend. We’ll talk tonight.
Katya slowly went down the stairs. Outside, snowflakes swirled through the air, sticking to her face. The cold burned her cheeks, but she barely felt it. Her thoughts tangled and overlapped.
Enough.
She stopped in the middle of the courtyard and pulled out her phone. She dialed her sister Polina—the only person she could speak to honestly.
— Hello? Katyusha, what happened?
— Polya… — her voice broke. — Can I come over? Right now?
— Of course. I’m waiting for you.
Polina lived on the other side of the city in a tiny one-room apartment with her cat, Marsik. By the time Katya arrived, her sister had already made tea and put out some cookies. They sat down on the sofa, and Katya told her everything—from the first criticisms to today’s conversation between Zhanna and her mother-in-law.
— My God, — Polina shook her head. — This is a complete nightmare. Katya, do you realize this won’t change? They’ll keep pressing until they get what they want.
— I know, — Katya said, wrapping both hands around the hot mug. — But what am I supposed to do? If I leave, everyone will say I abandoned my husband, that I destroyed the family. His mother will celebrate.
— And if you stay?
Katya fell silent. If she stayed, she would break slowly. Lose herself completely. Turn into an obedient shadow that cooked, cleaned, kept quiet, and endured.
— Listen, — Polina leaned closer. — Remember Nadezhda? My coworker I told you about. She had a similar situation. Her in-laws pressured her, and her husband took their side. Do you know what she did?
— What?
— She recorded one of their conversations. Her mother-in-law said one thing in front of her son and something completely different to her. Then she showed him the recording. At first he didn’t believe it, but later… later he started thinking.
Katya looked at her sister.
— You’re suggesting I record them?
— I’m suggesting you protect yourself. They’re playing dirty—so you need to defend yourself too. Otherwise you’ll lose everything.
That evening Katya returned home. Andrey met her in the hallway—dark-faced, arms crossed over his chest.
— Well? Are you going to explain why you were rude to Mom’s friend?
— I wasn’t rude.
— Mom said you snapped at her, insulted her. Zhanna is shocked by the way you behaved.
Katya looked into his eyes. There wasn’t a trace of doubt there—he believed his mother completely. Completely.
— Andrey, — she said quietly, — do you really not see what’s happening?
— What am I supposed to see? I see that you treat my mother like she’s a burden. I see that you don’t care about my requests.
— Your requests? — she let out a bitter laugh. — Those aren’t requests. They’re orders. Cook, clean, go there every day… And when was the last time you went to see your mother?
He jerked as if she had struck him.
— I work! I don’t have time!
— And I do? I work too, Andrey. I get tired too. But somehow I’m the only one who’s supposed to drop everything and run to your mother at her first call.
— Because you’re the wife! — he shouted. — Those are your duties!
— No, — Katya shook her head. — They’re not. I can help. I can care. But when I’m being used, manipulated, humiliated—that’s something else.
— Who is humiliating you?
— Your mother. And her friend Zhanna. Today, right in front of me, they were discussing how to introduce you to Bogdan—Zhanna’s nephew. A very successful single man. So you could see that life is better without a wife.
Andrey frowned.
— What are you talking about?
— I’m talking about the fact that your mother is planning our divorce. And you’re helping her do it.
— That’s nonsense, — he said, waving his hand. — Mom wants what’s best for us…
— For us? Or for you? Andrey, open your eyes. She doesn’t want you to have a wife. She wants you to belong only to her. Forever.
He said nothing. Something flickered in his expression—doubt? uncertainty? Katya couldn’t tell. But for the first time in weeks, he didn’t immediately rush to defend his mother.
— I need to think, — he said at last and walked into the other room.
Katya remained standing in the hallway. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt as though it might burst from her chest. She had said it. At last she had spoken everything that had been building inside her.
That night she didn’t sleep. Andrey tossed and turned too, sighing heavily. What was he thinking? Had he believed her, even a little?
In the morning he got up early and got ready for work in silence. At the door he turned back.
— Don’t go to Mom’s today. I’ll stop by myself.
Katya nodded. That was something new.
The day passed in a strange, tense state of waiting. She tried to work, tried to answer emails, but her thoughts kept drifting. In the evening Andrey came home late—without calling, without warning. He sat down across from her at the table and was silent for a long time.
— I talked to Mom, — he finally said. — Asked her about Zhanna, about this Bogdan.
— And?
— She said you misunderstood everything. That they were just discussing guests for my birthday.
Katya nodded. Of course. Valentina Stepanovna wasn’t stupid—she could twist her way out of anything.
— But, — Andrey said, looking at her, — I noticed something. When I told her I didn’t want any big celebration, she… got angry. Really angry. Said I was ungrateful, that I had chosen my wife over her.
— She actually said that? Chosen?
— Yes, — he said, rubbing his face with both hands. — I never really paid attention before. But she really does… make it seem like I have to choose between the two of you.
Katya stayed quiet. Let him understand it for himself. Let him finish the thought on his own.
— I’m sorry, — he said softly. — I was blind. I thought I was protecting my mother, but in reality… in reality I let her manipulate you. Manipulate both of us.
Katya didn’t know what to say. An apology was good. But was it enough? Words were one thing. Actions were something else entirely.
— What now? — she asked.
— I don’t know, — he admitted honestly. — But I want to try to change things. I want us to be a family. A real one. Without my mother interfering.
Outside, snow kept falling. There were only a few days left until New Year’s. There would still be many conversations ahead, many difficulties. Valentina Stepanovna would not give up easily. Neither would Zhanna.
But today, at this moment, Katya felt something new. Not happiness—not yet. Not relief—that was still too fragile. More like… hope. A small, careful hope that maybe, just maybe, not everything was lost.
— Let’s try, — she said.
And for the first time in a long while, Andrey reached across and took her hand.