“Oh, what a lovely home you have! It’s so cozy,” Evdokia Vasilievna exclaimed the moment she stepped through the doorway.
She had warned them in advance that she was coming to visit, so Liza had cleaned the entire apartment until there was not a speck of dust anywhere.
“Come in, Evdokia Vasilievna,” Liza said with a welcoming smile. “Vasily will be home from work in about an hour. Would you like to wait for him, or shall I serve you dinner now?”
As she spoke, Liza kept glancing at her mother-in-law’s enormous suitcases. They seemed far too large for someone who claimed she was only staying for a couple of days.
“Oh, why are you being so formal with me?” the older woman said. She removed her windbreaker, lowered herself heavily onto the small bench in the hall, and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Call me Mom, Lizochka. You’re part of our family now.”
Liza froze for a moment but decided not to argue. Her husband’s mother would be leaving soon anyway. She nodded, and Evdokia Vasilievna continued.
“I’m not especially hungry. I ate a good meal on the train before we arrived. But I wouldn’t mind lying down for a while. Where can I rest?”
She kicked off her sandals, and Liza noticed how dusty her feet were.
“Would you like to take a shower while I prepare somewhere for you to sleep?”
“No need,” the woman waved dismissively. “I washed in the bathhouse before leaving. That was only three days ago. I can take a shower tomorrow.”
Liza looked at her feet again but said nothing. She removed the fluffy white blanket from the sofa and replaced it with an old one she and Vasily used for picnics. At least it would not matter if that one became dirty.
“You can rest here,” Liza said. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll leave you alone.”
Then she went into the kitchen.
Her first impression of her mother-in-law was far from pleasant.
Evdokia Vasilievna had refused to attend her son’s wedding. For a while, she had even been offended by the marriage. She had always expected Vasily to return home after completing his studies and marry their neighbor, Nyurka.
Nyurka might have been five years older than him, but she respected Evdokia, knew how to work in the garden, and would have kept Vasily close enough to help his mother.
Instead, he had met a sophisticated city girl and decided to stay.
Liza had been genuinely surprised when her husband’s mother announced that she wanted to visit.
She was standing by the kitchen window when, just a few minutes later, the television suddenly roared to life at full volume. Liza nearly jumped out of her skin.
“It’s all right,” she told herself, biting her lip. “She’s tired from the journey. Maybe everyone in the village watches television this loudly because there aren’t any close neighbors to complain. Or perhaps she simply couldn’t find the volume button.”
Liza tiptoed toward the living room, silently pushed the door open, and peered through the gap.
Evdokia Vasilievna was sprawled across the sofa on the old blanket. A scandalous talk show was playing on the television. Women in bright, glittering blouses were screaming at each other while the host encouraged the argument and prerecorded laughter filled the studio.
The presenter’s voice and the women’s shrieks blended into such unbearable noise that Liza could not make out a single word. It was nothing but a wall of sound pressing against her head.
She took a step toward the living room, intending to ask very politely—extremely politely—for the volume to be lowered.
Before she could speak, her mother-in-law muted the television and shouted:
“Lizochka! Why are your radiators banging like that? It’s outrageous! The most interesting part is on, and they’re making all that noise!”
Liza stopped in the hallway.
It took her a moment to realize that the downstairs neighbor was banging on the heating pipes.
“That’s probably the neighbors,” Liza managed to say. “The television may be too loud for them.”
“Then they shouldn’t be listening to what happens in other people’s homes!” Evdokia Vasilievna snorted.
She immediately restored the television to its previous deafening volume.
Liza returned to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of cold filtered water, and drank it in one gulp. Shame and anger seemed to burn inside her.
She placed the glass on the table and began chopping vegetables for a salad. The knife trembled in her hand, and several times she nearly cut herself.
Even through the wall, she could hear the television and her mother-in-law’s commentary on every scene.
“Look at that shameless woman! Sleeping with someone else’s husband while her own is away on business! How can the earth carry people like her? Back in our village, we would have taught her a lesson. Oh, just look at the way she’s making eyes at him! And the fool is falling for it!”
Her mother-in-law’s loud, booming laughter drifted into the kitchen along with the canned laughter from the television studio.
Exactly one hour later, Liza heard movement in the entrance hall. Her husband was struggling with the lock. Then came the sound of his work bag being placed on the floor and his tired but relieved sigh.
Liza left the kitchen wearing a polite smile.
Vasily silently embraced her, kissed her cheek, and went to greet his mother.
“My son!” Evdokia Vasilievna cried, leaping up from the sofa.
She rushed toward him, threw her arms around his shoulders, and pressed him to her chest as though they had not seen each other in years.
“Vasya, my darling boy! You’ve lost so much weight! You’re pale, and your eyes have sunk into your face! They clearly don’t feed you properly here. You’re wasting away! But don’t worry. Your mother is here now, and I’ll soon fatten you up.”
Liza set the table.
She served a light dinner: asparagus baked with lemon, shrimp sautéed in garlic butter until golden, and a salad with arugula, Parmesan, and pine nuts. Everything looked like it belonged in a glossy cooking magazine.
Vasily sat down, rubbed his hands together, and smiled with satisfaction.
His mother, however, stared at the plates as though someone had served her a tray of cockroaches in sauce.
“What is this?” she asked in horror, lifting a green stalk with her fork. “Grass? Liza, are you serious? Is this what you feed your husband?”
“Mom, it’s asparagus,” Vasily explained. “It’s healthy and delicious. Liza is a good cook. Try it.”
“Disgusting!”
Evdokia Vasilievna pushed the plate away so sharply that it almost fell from the table.
“Where are the potatoes and onions? Where is the proper bacon with layers of meat? Where are the pickled cucumbers?”
She got up, walked over to the bag she had left by the wall, and began noisily pulling out jars.
“I brought my own food for the journey. Everything is homemade, straight from the garden, with dill and garlic. It’s obvious you’re starving my son, Lizochka. He works hard all day, and then comes home to this… seaweed.”
She placed a large jar of pickled cucumbers on the table along with a package of thick pink slices of cured pork fat.
“I’m a vegetarian, Evdokia Vasilievna,” Liza said calmly, although she could feel irritation building inside her. “I don’t eat meat. I cook chicken or fish for Vasily, depending on what he wants. But I thought you would be tired after your journey, so I prepared something light.”
“Oh, don’t lecture me!” her mother-in-law said, waving her hand. “A man needs rich borscht so thick that a spoon can stand upright in it. He needs jellied meat with cartilage. Proper food should leave grease dripping from his lips.”
She narrowed her eyes cunningly.
“Don’t worry, though. I’ll teach you. We’ll begin tomorrow. You’ll learn to fry pork cracklings, boil pig’s feet, and salt pork fat so well that the entire village would envy you.”
Liza shuddered.
She could vividly imagine the gelatinous mass of jellied meat, greasy cracklings sizzling in a frying pan, and oil splattering across her kitchen.
Her stomach turned, and nausea rose into her throat.
Still, she remained silent. She merely nodded, sat down, and pulled her plate of asparagus closer.
Throughout dinner, Evdokia Vasilievna did not stop talking for a single moment.
Soon she began discussing Nyurka, the same neighbor she had wanted her son to marry.
“Nyurka is still alone,” she said rapidly while spreading a thick layer of butter over a slice of dark bread. “The poor woman still cries over you, Vasya. I keep telling her, ‘Nyura, forget about him. Our Vasya went away and became a city man.’ But she just sighs.”
“She’s well over thirty now, but she’s still unmarried because she’s waiting for you. Our families could have been united. She could milk a cow, weed the garden, and show me proper respect. Not like these…”
Her mother-in-law looked at Liza with open disdain.
“…city princesses who eat asparagus.”
Liza felt her face growing hot. She lowered her eyes to her plate.
“Mom, that’s enough,” Vasily said. “Liza is my wife, and I love her. You came here as a guest, so relax and enjoy yourself instead of comparing her to other women. Nyurka is in the past. Liza and I are building our future.”
Liza looked at her husband.
She noticed how tense his shoulders had become and how tightly he held his fork. He was defending her, but it seemed to take enormous effort, as though he had to force himself to stand up to his mother.
Evdokia Vasilievna only laughed.
“I am enjoying myself,” she sang sweetly. “I’m glad you’ve done so well for yourself, my son. This apartment is magnificent. Clearly, you have more money than you know what to do with. And your wife seems capable enough. Everything is clean. There aren’t even any cobwebs in the corners.”
Then she gestured toward Liza’s plate.
“But that dinner is not real food. Still, we’ll fix that tomorrow. I’ll teach you, Lizochka. You may become useful eventually, as long as you aren’t stubborn.”
Liza slowly rose from the table.
Her head was beginning to spin from the smell of pork fat, the shouting television, and her mother-in-law’s relentless pressure.
“I have a headache,” she said, and it was almost true. “I’m going to lie down.”
She went into the bedroom, closed the door, sat on the bed, and wrapped her arms around her knees.
“Be patient,” she ordered herself. “She’ll leave in a couple of days. She said she was only staying for two days. I just need to endure it.”
The following morning began at five o’clock.
Liza had barely slept. She had spent the night tossing and turning while listening to her mother-in-law snore in the living room like an old tractor.
At five, the snoring stopped.
The sofa creaked. Then footsteps moved toward the kitchen.
Liza pretended to be asleep, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and held her breath.
She heard the refrigerator opening, pots and pans clattering, and water running from the kitchen tap.
By half past five, Liza could no longer stand it.
She put on her robe, walked barefoot down the hallway, and looked into the kitchen.
A frying pan was sizzling on the stove. Thick slices of potato and pieces of pork fat were swimming in grease.
Evdokia Vasilievna stood by the stove in her nightgown, holding a spatula.
“Good morning,” Liza said hoarsely. “What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast,” the woman replied without turning around. “A proper breakfast, so a man can eat well and go to work full of strength. You obviously don’t know how, so I’ll show you. Sit down. Don’t stand there like a stranger.”
A few minutes later, a heaping plate was placed in front of Liza.
It was piled high with fried potatoes and chunks of pork fat cooked until crisp. Her mother-in-law added two slices of bread covered with a thick layer of butter.
“Eat,” she ordered, sitting opposite Liza and pouring herself some tea. “You’re as thin as a stick. In that condition, you’ll never have a child or keep a husband. And don’t look at me like that. I only want what’s best for you.”
Liza stared at the plate as her stomach tightened painfully.
With great effort, she said:
“I don’t eat pork fat. I don’t eat greasy food at all. And I don’t eat bread with butter either.”
Her mother-in-law slammed her cup onto the table so hard that tea spilled over the edge.
She planted both hands on the tabletop and leaned over Liza like a hawk preparing to strike. Her eyes narrowed, her lips tightened, and her voice rang with wounded indignation.
“You have no respect for your husband’s mother,” she said, emphasizing every word. “I worked hard and got up before sunrise to prepare food for you, and now you turn up your nose as though I served you poison.”
“In my family, everyone ate what was put in front of them and said thank you. But you’re a spoiled city girl. I truly don’t understand how my Vasily manages to live with you.”
A lump rose in Liza’s throat.
She stood up.
“I don’t feel well. I’m going back to the bedroom.”
“Fine,” Evdokia Vasilievna hissed. “At least I know what a man needs. My Vasya will eat everything. He isn’t fussy. He grew up eating proper village food. He’s nothing like you.”
Vasily came out of the bedroom wearing pajama bottoms. His hair was messy, and he looked half asleep.
He stretched and yawned. When he saw the scene in the kitchen, his expression changed.
“Mom, why are you starting an argument first thing in the morning?” he asked, trying to sound peaceful. “Liza doesn’t eat meat. You know that. She has her own diet, and that’s her choice. Why are you pressuring her?”
“I’m not pressuring her,” his mother snapped. “I’m teaching her. Your wife has no common sense.”
“Mom, enough,” Vasily repeated, although there was little confidence in his voice. “Liza, go back to the bedroom. I’ll talk to her.”
Liza stepped into the hallway and leaned against the wall.
“It’s temporary,” she told herself, closing her eyes. “This is only temporary. I can endure it.”
Two weeks passed.
Fourteen days.
Liza kept count in her head. Every evening, she mentally crossed off another day and wondered how many more remained.
There was no answer.
During those two weeks, Liza became a shadow of her former self.
She began getting up at six because her mother-in-law, accustomed to waking with the first rooster back in the village, was already crashing around in the kitchen.
Whenever Liza remained in bed, Evdokia Vasilievna deliberately banged pots and frying pans so loudly that it seemed she was waking the entire building.
Liza began cooking whatever her mother-in-law demanded, at least for Vasily, simply to avoid hearing endless accusations that she was starving her husband.
She learned to prepare borscht with meat. She fried cutlets. She even attempted to make jellied meat.
But when she saw pig’s feet, cartilage, and tendons floating in the pot, she rushed out of the kitchen and remained in the bathroom for a long time.
Her mother-in-law noticed and merely snorted.
“Spoiled little thing. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
Liza tried to speak to Vasily.
“Vasya, she isn’t leaving. You promised she would stay for two days. It’s been two weeks. When is she going home?”
But he would avert his eyes and mumble:
“Come on, Liza. She missed me. She’s my mother.”
Liza would look at his guilty expression and feel everything inside her begin to boil.
Still, she refused to let her emotions escape.
She clenched her fists, gritted her teeth, took a breath, and said:
“I understand. So you have no idea when she’s leaving.”
Vasily remained silent.
The evening everything finally collapsed began peacefully.
Liza was expecting her best friend, Alyonka, whom she had not seen for six months.
Alyonka was constantly traveling for work, building her career, and living at a relentless pace. At last, she had managed to return to their hometown for three days.
Liza prepared for their meeting as though it were a holiday.
She ordered vegetable sushi and took a bottle of semi-dry white wine from the refrigerator. She even put on a little makeup, although she had barely bothered with cosmetics during the previous two weeks.
She desperately wanted one evening in which she could be herself again—the Liza who laughed, discussed lighthearted things, and did not spend her days cooking borscht or listening to stories about Nyurka.
Alyonka arrived at seven.
She hugged Liza so tightly that Liza could barely breathe, then immediately began talking about everything that had happened to her.
They settled in the kitchen, as far as possible from the living room, where Evdokia Vasilievna was watching television.
That evening, the older woman did not turn the volume all the way up. Apparently, she wanted to eavesdrop on the two friends.
Liza decided not to care.
This was her evening.
She had a right to enjoy it.
They ate sushi and laughed.
Alyonka told a hilarious story about a man who was courting her, and Liza laughed more freely and sincerely than she had in a very long time.
For the first time in weeks, she felt as though she could breathe properly.
The tension began to leave her body, and her shoulders slowly relaxed.
They became so absorbed in their conversation that they did not notice two hours passing.
Vasily was in the shower. He had returned from work exhausted and immediately gone to wash so that he would not disturb their conversation.
Then the kitchen door flew open with a crash.
Evdokia Vasilievna stood in the doorway wearing a flannel nightgown and curlers in her hair.
Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her eyes burned with cold fury as she looked from Liza to Alyonka and back again.
“Liza!” she roared. “I don’t want to see your friends in this apartment again! Meet them somewhere else. They are not welcome in this house. Do you understand me? Your husband comes home tired from work, and you sit here entertaining guests!”
A wave of cold passed through Liza.
She stared at her mother-in-law and suddenly realized that there was no fear left inside her.
There was no desire to please her either.
Liza slowly stood and pushed her chair back.
She adjusted her robe, straightened her back, and squared her shoulders.
Then she placed her hands on her hips, exactly the way Evdokia Vasilievna did whenever she was preparing to lecture someone.
Liza took one step forward.
Her voice was loud, clear, and completely steady.
“Mom, haven’t you seriously overstepped every possible boundary?”
Her mother-in-law stared at her in disbelief.
Genuine shock crossed her face, as though she had just watched a tree begin to speak.
She had expected Liza’s usual apology or guilty expression.
Instead, Liza stood before her like a wall, sparks flashing in her eyes.
“Are you speaking to me?” Evdokia Vasilievna demanded. “You, a spoiled little city brat, dare to argue with me?”
“This apartment belongs to my son! He worked himself to death at two jobs to buy it! You arrived and settled into everything he earned like some princess!”
“If I choose, I can throw you out of here. Do you understand? And I’ll throw your friend out with you!”
Liza burst out laughing.
“Oh, I can’t believe this,” she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “You’re going to throw me out of my own apartment?”
“Listen carefully, Evdokia Vasilievna. My grandparents gave me this apartment when I graduated from school. I have lived here since I was eighteen. I know every corner and every scratch in the parquet floor.”
“So if anyone in this apartment has the right to throw someone else out, it certainly isn’t you.”
Her mother-in-law turned pale. All the color drained from her face.
She grabbed the doorframe for support.
“You’re lying!” she screamed. “You’re a filthy liar! Vasya told me he bought this apartment himself! I know how hard he works. He told me everything!”
“Then he lied to you,” Liza replied calmly. “Ask him yourself.”
At that moment, Vasily appeared in the hallway.
His hair was wet, and he froze as though he had been turned to stone, looking from his mother to his wife.
“My son!” Evdokia Vasilievna cried, rushing toward him. “Tell her! Tell her this apartment belongs to you! Tell her you bought it!”
“Throw both of them out right now!”
“Mom…” Vasily stammered. “Mom, I…”
“Why are you mumbling?” she shouted, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him so hard that he stumbled. “Tell her the apartment is yours! It’s true, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
And suddenly, Liza understood everything.
She saw the tension in Vasily’s shoulders, the way he shrank under his mother’s hand, the panic in his darting eyes, and his inability to answer.
He had lied.
He had been lying to his mother the entire time—about the apartment, his income, and his success.
He had done it so she would be proud of him and would not consider him a failure.
He had built an entire legend, a fragile palace in the air, and now it was collapsing in front of him.
“Vasya,” Liza said quietly, “take your mother to the railway station. Buy her a ticket. She has overstayed her welcome, and it’s time for her to leave.”
“Do it now.”
Vasily flinched and looked at her with desperate pleading in his eyes.
He stepped closer, led her into the bedroom, closed the door tightly, and began whispering.
“Liza, please. I’m begging you. Just play along this once.”
“I told her I bought the apartment and that I was doing incredibly well because I didn’t want her to be upset that I left home. She only forgave me for staying here because she believed I had become successful.”
“If she learns the truth, she’ll destroy me. She’ll curse me and disown me.”
“Please, Liza. Tell her you were joking. Say we bought it together. Say you misspoke.”
“I’m not going to support your lies, Vasya,” Liza answered. “I have endured your mother for two weeks. I stayed silent. I swallowed every insulting thing she said to me.”
“But this is over now. I’ve had enough. I will not participate in your games anymore.”
Vasily straightened.
Suddenly, there was firmness in his voice.
“Then I’ll leave too!” he shouted. “If you don’t care about my relationship with my mother, and you refuse to support me, I’ll leave with her. Do you understand?”
Liza folded her arms across her chest.
“That’s perfectly fine,” she said. “Leave. Both of you. Right now. I’m not stopping you.”
They packed their things in twenty minutes.
Evdokia Vasilievna understood nothing.
She rushed around the hallway, screaming that her son had no right to leave his own apartment, that Liza and Alyonka were the ones who should be thrown out, and that she would call the police.
Vasily only muttered while grabbing his belongings.
“Mom, I’ll explain everything. Let’s go. Come on, not here.”
He pulled on his jeans and threw a few clothes and his documents into a small bag.
The entire time, he kept glancing toward Liza, who stood in the doorway with a completely unreadable expression.
He expected her to change her mind.
He thought she would run to him, hug him, and beg him to stay.
He was certain she would never allow him to leave.
After all, they loved each other. They had made plans together. Surely, she could not simply discard two years of their relationship.
But Liza remained motionless.
Only when Vasily and his mother had already reached for the front door did she speak.
“Leave your keys.”
Vasily removed the set of keys from his pocket, placed them on the cabinet, and walked out.
The door closed behind them.
Alyonka, who had been sitting silently the entire time, finally exhaled.
“That was unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head. “I wonder what he’ll tell her now.”
Liza gave a bitter smile.
“He’ll promise to marry Nyurka, and his mother will calm down. He always tells her whatever she wants to hear, as long as she doesn’t become upset with him.”
The two women looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Liza stared at the closed door and understood that her fragile marriage had just shattered into pieces.
She did not know whether she should grieve or celebrate.
Perhaps she felt both emotions at once.
The following morning, her phone rang at nine.
It was Vasily.
Liza waited until he called three times before answering.
“Liza, we haven’t left yet,” he said. “We’ve been thinking. If you agree to transfer half of the apartment into my name and begin treating my mother properly, with the respect she deserves, we’ll come back.”
“I’m willing to give you a chance to correct your mistake. You understand that life will be difficult for you without me.”
Liza picked up her mug and poured herself fresh coffee.
She took a slow sip, feeling its bitterness spread across her tongue.
Then, without the slightest emotion in her voice, she said:
“Vasya, I’ll file for divorce myself. Have a pleasant journey with your mother.”
She ended the call, blocked his number, and placed her phone on silent.
Then she finished her coffee, put the mug in the sink, walked over to the window, and opened it wide.
Fresh morning air rushed into the apartment, carrying the scent of damp pavement and greenery along with the sounds of the city waking up.
For the first time in two weeks, Liza felt that she could breathe freely.
There was no shouting.
No deception.
No need to perform the role of the obedient, perfect daughter-in-law.
A new day was beginning outside her window.
And there was no place for the past in it.