Polina had never thought of herself as beautiful. Whenever she looked into the mirror, she saw an ordinary young woman staring back at her—light brown hair, gray eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and a modest smile. But whenever Andrey looked at her, there was so much warmth in his eyes that Polina felt like a queen.
They had met completely by accident in a crowded subway car. When the train suddenly jerked, Andrey caught her by the elbow before she could fall. She smiled gratefully, they started talking, exchanged phone numbers, and within a month neither of them could imagine life without the other.
Andrey was caring, affectionate, and attentive. He wrote poetry for her, brought flowers for no reason, and always held her hand when they walked through the city in the evenings. He courted her so beautifully that Polina’s heart skipped a beat whenever she saw him. He was the first man who had made her feel truly special, cherished, and desired.
“You’re my other half. I know it,” Andrey would whisper as he kissed her temple.
Polina melted whenever he said things like that. She believed she had finally found the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. So when Andrey suggested that their relationship was serious enough for her to meet his mother, she agreed without hesitation.
“She can be strict, but she’s a good person,” he warned her on the way there. “Just be yourself, and everything will be fine. She’ll like you. I’m sure of it.”
Polina chose a simple but elegant dress. She brought a bouquet of flowers and a homemade apple pie she had baked herself, carefully following her favorite recipe. She desperately wanted to make a good impression on the mother of the man she loved.
The door was opened by a tall woman with sharp eyes and thin lips.
She looked Polina up and down so critically that the young woman immediately felt uncomfortable.
“Mom, this is Polina,” Andrey said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “My fiancée.”
Lyudmila Sergeyevna did not even smile.
She remained silent for several seconds before finally saying the words Polina would remember for the rest of her life.
“Andrey, couldn’t you have found a normal girl? Someone prettier?”
Polina felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath her feet.
The bouquet suddenly seemed unbearably heavy in her hands. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Andrey tightened his arm around her shoulders.
“Mom, looks aren’t what matter to me,” he replied firmly, his voice becoming noticeably colder. “Polina is the most beautiful woman in the world to me. I don’t like hearing you talk about her that way, and I’m sure she doesn’t either.”
Lyudmila Sergeyevna snorted but allowed them inside.
The rest of the evening was painfully uncomfortable.
His mother fired question after question at Polina.
“Where do you work?”
“How much do you earn?”
“Do you own an apartment, or are you renting?”
Polina answered cautiously, deliberately avoiding specific details. She had no desire to show off. She knew perfectly well that she earned considerably more than Andrey, and she did not want to embarrass him in front of his mother.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna also found fault with the apple pie, announcing that it had not been baked properly.
“Cooking obviously isn’t your strong point,” she remarked. “You probably shouldn’t bother with it.”
She’s just worried about her son, Polina told herself.
She’ll get used to me eventually.
She’ll accept me.
Polina was wrong.
Andrey and Polina moved in together soon afterward.
He found a small apartment in a newly built residential complex that they could potentially purchase later. Polina was happy despite the fact that she paid the rent herself. Andrey had suggested splitting all expenses equally, but she gently refused.
Instead, she encouraged him to save whatever money he could toward eventually buying a home.
They couldn’t spend their entire lives moving from one rental apartment to another.
When Lyudmila Sergeyevna realized that her son was genuinely determined to marry Polina, she decided to do everything she could to prevent it.
She could not stand the idea of having some plain, insignificant “gray mouse” as a daughter-in-law.
In her opinion, her son deserved someone much better.
She began calling Andrey ten times a day.
One moment she needed him to change a light bulb.
The next she wanted him to inspect the wiring.
Then she simply wanted him to come over because, according to her, “You’ve completely forgotten about your mother.”
Whenever she visited their apartment, she always found something to criticize.
“Polina, don’t you work? Every time I come here, you’re at home.”
Then she would look at the floor.
“You washed this badly. Look at all those streaks.”
Or she would study Polina’s figure.
“And why are you so thin? You’ll probably never be able to carry a child with hips like those.”
Polina endured it all.
She clenched her teeth, forced herself to smile, and remained silent. She continued hoping that eventually Lyudmila Sergeyevna would calm down.
For Andrey’s sake, Polina was willing to be patient.
For the sake of their future together, she was willing to compromise.
But the worst occasions were family dinners at Lyudmila Sergeyevna’s home.
Somehow, completely “by coincidence,” her friends always happened to arrive with their unmarried daughters—tall, glamorous young women with perfect manicures, fashionable clothes, and loud, confident laughter.
“Oh, and this is Lenochka, our neighbor,” Lyudmila Sergeyevna would say sweetly, nudging her son with her elbow. “Can you imagine? She’s a lawyer. She already owns an apartment and a car. Oh goodness, I almost forgot—you’re planning to marry Polina, aren’t you? Look at me trying to play matchmaker!”
Then she would laugh nervously, pretending she had mentioned it accidentally.
Polina sat with an expressionless face, pretending not to notice the obvious message.
She saw Andrey blush.
She saw him trying desperately to change the subject.
And she noticed how his voice became harsher with every one of these gatherings.
“Mom, stop it,” he would say. “I’m serious. Stop trying to introduce me to every woman you consider suitable. I have Polina. I don’t need anyone else.”
But Lyudmila Sergeyevna refused to give up.
In her own mind, she was fighting for her son’s happiness.
She was saving him from a plain little nobody who had attached herself to him because she saw him as a convenient opportunity.
After all, why else would a handsome man like her son ever choose someone like Polina?
The tension continued to grow.
Polina stopped sleeping properly. At night she replayed Lyudmila Sergeyevna’s insults in her head again and again.
She tried to talk to Andrey, but he felt trapped between the two most important women in his life.
“You don’t understand,” he told her wearily one evening. “She’s my mother. She raised me alone without a father. I can’t just erase her from my life.”
“I’m not asking you to erase her!” Polina snapped before forcing herself to calm down. “I’m asking you to protect me. Set boundaries. Tell her she doesn’t have the right to keep humiliating me.”
Andrey said nothing.
He simply did not know how to confront his mother.
Every time she made another insulting remark, he tried to change the subject or gently ask her to stop, but he was incapable of drawing a firm line.
He was afraid of hurting her.
And Polina saw it.
She felt that she was losing him.
Not because Andrey loved his mother more, but because choosing between them was too painful for him.
Then, one evening, everything finally collapsed.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna called Andrey and caused another scandal. She claimed Polina had spoken rudely to her on the phone, even though nothing of the kind had happened.
Andrey returned home from work furious.
Instead of questioning his mother’s story, he believed her.
“Maybe you really could try being a little gentler with her?” he said, avoiding Polina’s eyes. “She isn’t your enemy, after all.”
Polina froze.
Something inside her broke.
She was tired of pretending not to see the truth.
There was simply no safe place for her in Andrey’s life as long as his mother was allowed to interfere whenever she pleased.
“So I’m supposed to apologize for something I didn’t even do?” Polina asked quietly.
“No. I’m not saying you should apologize. I just…”
“You just don’t want to argue with her,” Polina interrupted. “But arguing with me is fine, isn’t it? Because I won’t hold it against you. Because I’ll always understand. Right?”
Andrey had no answer.
He simply stood there staring at Polina as though she were suddenly a stranger.
“I’m leaving,” she said.
He did not stop her.
That night Andrey stayed at a friend’s place, saying that he needed to “clear his head.”
Polina remained alone in the rented apartment that suddenly no longer felt warm or familiar.
The following morning, she began packing.
Her hands trembled, but she was certain she was making the right decision.
Things could not continue like this.
If Andrey was not willing to defend her, she refused to spend the rest of her life fighting a war against his mother.
She pulled out a suitcase and began folding her clothes into it.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she did not wipe them away.
For once, she allowed herself to stop hiding what she truly felt.
Then someone began knocking loudly on the door.
Polina flinched.
For a moment, she thought Andrey had returned and wanted to make peace.
But when she opened the door, Lyudmila Sergeyevna was standing there.
Confident.
Bold.
And wearing a victorious smile.
“Andrey spent the night at Igor’s place. I know,” she announced, walking into the apartment without waiting to be invited. “Why the two of you suddenly started fighting doesn’t interest me. I’m here for another reason. I want to make sure you don’t accidentally take anything that doesn’t belong to you. Who knows what someone like you might try to steal?”
Polina said nothing.
She simply watched her.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna looked around the room, spotted the open suitcase, and her eyes immediately lit up.
“You’ve finally made the right decision,” she almost sang. “It’ll be better for everyone. Andrey will find himself a normal woman, and you…”
Then she noticed an expensive natural-fur coat lying over the back of a chair.
It was a luxurious arctic fox coat, and Lyudmila Sergeyevna was convinced that her son had bought it for his undeserving girlfriend.
“And this fur coat,” she said, grabbing it firmly by the collar, “you’re leaving behind. My son bought it with his own money! I know he spoiled you, but you’re certainly not walking away with expensive gifts.”
Polina gave a quiet laugh.
Something cold and bitter finally rose inside her.
She was tired of remaining polite to a woman who had spent months poisoning every interaction with insults.
“Really?” Polina asked softly, the corner of her mouth twisting into an ironic smile.
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” Lyudmila Sergeyevna shouted. “Give me the coat and get out of here!”
Polina slowly walked over to the bedside table and picked up her phone.
A few seconds later, she turned the screen toward the older woman.
“Here’s the receipt,” she said calmly. “The coat belongs to me. I paid for it entirely with my own card. And while we’re discussing money, I also pay the rent on this apartment. I pay the bills, buy the groceries, and cover most of our shared expenses.”
She paused, watching Lyudmila Sergeyevna’s expression turn blank.
“I earn considerably more than your son. I never mentioned it because I didn’t want to humiliate him or make him feel less successful. But you, Lyudmila Sergeyevna, have crossed every possible boundary.”
The older woman turned pale.
Her eyes moved from the receipt on the phone to Polina, then from Polina to the expensive coat.
Her lips trembled with rage.
“You… you’re lying,” she finally whispered.
“Not at all.”
Polina calmly removed the coat from Lyudmila Sergeyevna’s tightly clenched hands and placed it inside her suitcase.
“You got what you wanted. I’m leaving. I sincerely hope Andrey will be happy and eventually meet a worthy bride whom you’ll be delighted to welcome into your family.”
She closed the suitcase, picked up her handbag, put on her coat, and stopped at the doorway.
“Tell Andrey that I love him. I always have. But I cannot build a life with a man who isn’t prepared to protect me from you. He’ll have to decide for himself what matters more—your demands or our happiness.”
The door closed behind her with a quiet click.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna remained standing alone in the middle of the empty apartment.
For perhaps the first time in her life, she had absolutely nothing to say.
Polina spent the next three days in a hotel.
She didn’t want to involve her parents in the conflict, and she still had no idea what she would do next.
She ignored Andrey’s calls and did not read his messages.
She knew she needed time.
More than anything, she needed to decide whether she was capable of forgiving him.
Andrey refused to give up.
He called from morning until night and left voice messages in which his voice repeatedly cracked with emotion.
On the fourth day, Polina finally answered.
They met at a small café by the waterfront—the same place where they had once realized that they wanted to spend their lives together.
Andrey arrived looking exhausted.
His face was pale, his eyes were red, and his hands were trembling.
“I’ve thought about everything,” he began. “Actually, I started thinking about it that same night when I was staying at my friend’s place. I realized I was wrong. Mom will never stop humiliating you unless I’m the one who makes her stop. I’ve already spoken to her.”
He hesitated.
“And strangely enough, she said she has nothing against our relationship anymore.”
Polina let out a humorless laugh.
Of course she didn’t.
Once Lyudmila Sergeyevna had discovered how much Polina actually earned and how much she financially contributed to their life, she suddenly realized that she might be losing a very advantageous daughter-in-law.
That was the real reason for her dramatic change of attitude.
But Polina also understood something else.
She would never be able to have a close relationship with such an insincere person.
A woman who could change her attitude so quickly for financial reasons could not be trusted.
What would happen later?
What if Polina gave birth to a daughter instead of the grandson Lyudmila Sergeyevna wanted?
What if Polina lost her job?
Would the insults return?
Would Lyudmila Sergeyevna smile sweetly to her face while secretly waiting for an opportunity to hurt her again?
Polina had no desire to participate in that kind of performance.
So she told Andrey the truth.
“I won’t be able to have a relationship with your mother.”
Andrey remained silent, listening.
“Are you prepared for that?” Polina continued. “I have no objection to you seeing her or spending time with her. If we have children, I won’t forbid her from seeing her grandchildren either. But I’m not going to become close to her. She won’t be a central part of our family, and she won’t be a frequent guest in our home. I don’t know how to pretend. I can’t smile at someone while knowing they despise me behind that smile.”
Andrey agreed.
He understood why Polina felt that way.
He also understood that his mother had created this situation herself.
Polina eventually returned to the apartment where she and Andrey had once dreamed of building their future together.
They began preparing for their wedding.
From time to time, Lyudmila Sergeyevna still lost control of herself and attempted to turn her son against his fiancée.
But Andrey no longer responded the way he once had.
He stopped her immediately and gave her a clear choice.
Either she left Polina alone and respected their relationship, or she would lose her son.
For the first time, Lyudmila Sergeyevna realized that Andrey was no longer the boy she could control.
Her son had grown up.
He was capable of making his own decisions, choosing the woman he loved, and protecting the family he intended to build.
And this time, whether she liked it or not, Lyudmila Sergeyevna had no choice but to accept it.