May holidays are a time when the city comes to a standstill and the dacha settlements come to life. Marina was finishing packing the last of the groceries into the trunk, while Konstantin was fiddling with the GPS, checking the route.
“Are you sure we haven’t forgotten anything?” he asked for the third time, casting one last glance at the apartment.
Marina rolled her eyes:
“Everything’s packed. I double-checked: hair straightener, chargers, books—everything’s with me.”
“What about Mom? Who’s going to feed Barsik?”
At the mention of her mother-in-law, Marina froze for a moment. The topic of Galina Petrovna always caused an internal tension. She could be charming in public, but in the family circle, she turned into a perpetual critic. Advice, comments, displeased sighs—she acted as if she were running someone else’s home.
“I wrote everything out in detail for her,” Marina replied curtly. “Food in the left cabinet, clean the litter box every day, water the plants strictly on schedule.”
“Maybe you should call her after all?” Konstantin gently suggested.
“Why? She’ll read everything.”
But at that moment, an idea flashed in Marina’s mind. The surveillance camera! They had installed it after several thefts in the neighborhood—a compact, almost invisible one, but it had a perfect view of the living room. It stood on the bookshelf, hidden among knick-knacks.
“You know what?” she brightened. “I forgot to check if the camera’s on. Wait a minute!”
She quickly returned to the apartment, found the small device—the indicator was glowing green. In the phone app, the image was clear, the sound perfect.
“Everything’s fine!” she happily announced upon returning. “We can go!”
Konstantin didn’t ask about her sudden enthusiasm. After three years of marriage, he had learned not to interfere with some of his wife’s quirks.
Galina Petrovna entered her son’s apartment the day after they left. She had had the keys for a long time—”just in case,” as Kostya said. Although Marina had clearly made it known that she wasn’t thrilled about this “backup access.”
“Here, Barsik! Grandma’s here!” she cheerfully called as she entered.
The black cat slowly crawled out of the bedroom, stretched, and headed for the kitchen, hinting at his empty dish.
“Coming, coming, my dear,” Galina coaxed as she fetched his food.
She looked around the apartment and frowned. Cups were not put away, pillows were askew, a newspaper was lying on the floor.
“What kind of housekeeper is this…” she muttered, determinedly starting to clean.
Turning on the radio, she began tidying up to the song of her youth. Half an hour later, the kitchen sparkled, the pillows were straightened, and the newspaper was neatly folded.
Settling on the sofa, Galina called her friend Nina:
“Hello, Nina? It’s me. Can you imagine, I’m at Kostya’s apartment right now. He and Marina went to the dacha and left me to take care of the cat and the plants.”
She lowered her voice:
“Is this really trust? Just a forced measure. My daughter-in-law wrote another one of her instructions! As if I don’t know how to take care of an animal. I raised three children, and now I need a paper to do it…”
Meanwhile, Marina, sitting on the dacha veranda, watched the scene with interest on her smartphone. Every word from her mother-in-law was crystal clear.
“Kostya! Come here!” she called to her husband, who was chopping firewood for dinner.
“What’s happened?” he asked, wiping his hands anxiously.
“Look at what your mom is saying about us!”
On the screen, Galina Petrovna continued:
“Sometimes I feel completely out of place in their life. Kostya tries, of course, but this Marina… She does everything her own way. My advice seems to fall on deaf ears.”
She pointed to the curtains:
“Take these, for example! I told them to hang them more tightly so the sun wouldn’t burn the wallpaper. But no—’we want more light.’ And now look—one side has already faded!”
Konstantin stared at the phone, then at his wife in confusion.
“Marina, did you install a hidden camera? Are you spying on my mom?”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise:
“Not on your mom, on our apartment! For safety!” she whispered. “And look how well it worked. Now we know what she really thinks about us.”
Meanwhile, on the screen, Galina continued:
“And the kitchen! Goodness, Nina! I came over for dinner yesterday, and she served some quinoa with avocado. What is that? Why not cook a normal borscht for guests? Kostya grew up on my cabbage soup and cutlets, and now he eats this grass!”
Saying that, she walked over to the bookshelf and gently picked up a picture frame with a photo of her son.
“Oh, Kostya has changed so much since he got married…” sighed Galina Petrovna. “He used to come to visit every Sunday, but now I hardly see him once a month. It’s all Marina, Marina…”
She suddenly stopped mid-sentence, carefully put the photo back on the shelf.
“Okay, Nina, I got sentimental, like a young woman. Probably my age. You remember what it was like to be a daughter-in-law. Life… I’ll call you later. Now I’ll go check the kitchen.”
Konstantin put the phone aside and looked at his wife with an angry expression:
“Marina, this is too much. You’re recording my mom without her knowing! That’s an invasion of privacy!”
“Me?” she exclaimed. “But when she rummages through our house, moves things around, and criticizes everything— that’s okay?”
“But still, recording someone without their consent…”
“Come on! She’s in our apartment!” Marina raised her voice. “And look at what she’s doing!”
She turned the video feed back on. On the screen, Galina Petrovna was in the kitchen, opening the cabinets one by one, pulling out an unfamiliar jar, and sniffing the contents.
“What’s this spice?” she muttered. “No name, no price. It must be expensive. This is where the money goes…”
Then she pulled a package out of her bag:
“Let them eat something decent for once. Kostya’s gotten so thin.”
Marina snorted:
“Did you hear that? She’s criticizing our food! And she’s brought her cutlets to our fridge!”
Konstantin rubbed the bridge of his nose:
“Well, she just wants to show care…”
“She thinks I’m a bad wife and an even worse housekeeper!” Marina’s voice trembled. “To her, I’ll never be good enough for her ‘golden’ son.”
Meanwhile, on the screen, Galina entered the bedroom and began to straighten the bed sheets.
“Oh my God, she’s in our bedroom!” Marina gasped.
“She’s just making the bed,” Konstantin sighed.
“And now what?! She’s opening my wardrobe! Kostya, she’s rummaging through my things!”
Indeed, Galina carefully ran her hand along the hangers, stopped at one of them—a blue dress she had helped choose on their engagement day.
“Here it is, my dear,” she whispered, pressing it to her chest. “I remember how Kostya was so happy: ‘Mom, that’s her color!’ And she’s never worn it…”
Carefully hanging the dress in a visible spot, Galina closed the wardrobe and called her friend:
“Nina, you know, maybe I’m really asking too much from them? I look at their home—it’s clean, cozy. Marina’s trying. In her own way, not mine, but she’s trying… Maybe I need to learn to be quiet when I want to criticize?”
Pause.
“Although no! I’ll still make them cutlets. A mother’s heart can’t be fooled,” she added with a smile. “I can see Kostya’s lost weight.”
Konstantin and Marina exchanged a glance. They hadn’t expected this turn of events.
“You know,” Galina thoughtfully said, “sometimes I wonder: how would I feel if my mother-in-law came into our house when we first got married? Probably just as uncomfortable as Marina feels now. Ah, life goes in circles…”
Marina silently watched the screen. Her earlier irritation mixed with new, unexpected emotions.
“Did you really think she doesn’t feel anything?” Konstantin softly asked. “She misses you. She just doesn’t know how to show it properly.”
“And I’m not any better than her,” Marina confessed. “I installed the camera, I’m spying… Like I’m not an adult.”
Konstantin hugged her:
“What should we do?”
She was silent for a long time, watching the evening sunset.
“We need to talk. All three of us. Honestly. Without instructions or cameras.”
For the next two days, Marina hardly opened the app. Every time her hand reached for the phone, the picture appeared before her eyes: Galina Petrovna, speaking with her friend about her doubts and worries.
But on the third day of the holiday, when Konstantin went to buy groceries, curiosity got the better of her.
“I’ll just check if everything’s okay with the apartment,” she justified herself and turned on the live feed.
On the screen, the living room was empty. The sound of bubbling came from the kitchen. A moment later, Galina appeared in the frame holding a pot.
“Here you go, Barsik,” she said to the cat. “We’ll surprise them. They’ll come back tired and hungry, and there’ll be borscht waiting! Do you think Marina will be happy?”
Barsik meowed in response.
“No, you can’t have any,” she scratched him behind the ear. “You’ve got your own food. But Nina and I were talking today… Maybe I am too harsh on Marina. I didn’t know much at her age either.”
Marina felt a strange confusion, as if she had accidentally overheard something that wasn’t meant for her ears.
Then Galina’s phone rang.
“Hello, Kostya!” she brightened up. “No, no, everything’s fine. Barsik’s healthy, the flowers are watered, just like Marina asked.”
A pause. Galina’s face grew serious.
“Camera? What camera?… On the bookshelf?” she looked around. “So… you were filming me?”
Marina froze. Her heart raced. He had told her. He had told his mother everything.
On the screen, Galina slowly turned toward the bookshelf. Her gaze landed directly on the camera lens — it was as if she had sensed she was being watched. Her face momentarily froze, then twisted in realization.
“So Marina has been… watching me all this time?” she said softly, not taking her eyes off the camera.
Konstantin was talking to his mother on the phone, but Galina seemed no longer to listen. She sat down in a chair, still staring at the tiny camera lens.
“And she heard everything? All my conversations with Nina?”
A pause. Then the woman’s expression changed — harshness turned to softness, but something deep and painful clearly simmered inside.
“Got it. Thanks for warning me. No, I’m not upset. Of course. See you, Kostya.”
She hung up and sat there in complete silence, as if trying to process what she had heard. Then she stood, walked up to the camera, and spoke directly into the lens.
“Well, Marina Andreyevna… I hope you found it interesting. Learn anything new?”
Galina looked not angry, but rather wounded. Her voice held pain, not anger.
“I can understand a lot of things. But this… ” she shook her head, “I didn’t expect this. It’s humiliating.”
Without saying another word, she decisively walked to the front door, put on her coat, and left. The apartment was empty.
Marina, stunned by the shock, stared at the screen. Her phone vibrated — a message from Konstantin:
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, but mom asked directly why I was calling when you left such detailed instructions. I had to tell her about the camera.”
“Dammit!” Marina exclaimed. She jumped up and dialed her husband.
“Where are you?”
“At the checkout. What happened?”
“Your mom knows everything. She left. She looked upset.”
“Dammit,” Konstantin echoed her tone. “I knew it. I’ll call her now.”
“No, wait. I’ll try.”
She dialed her mother-in-law’s number. It rang. No answer. She tried again — no luck.
“She’s not picking up,” she told her husband.
“Not surprising. I told you this was a bad idea.”
“Yeah, you were right,” Marina quietly agreed.
By evening, they finally got in touch with Galina. She called Konstantin back and assured him everything was fine, she just needed to “get some air.” He handed the phone to Marina.
“Galina Petrovna, I’d like to explain…” she began, but her mother-in-law gently interrupted.
“It’s okay, Marina. I understand. You’re young, you need your space. Sorry if I was too intrusive.”
Her voice was soft, almost lifeless. That made Marina feel even worse.
“No, listen, I need to say—”
“You don’t need to say anything. I understand now. I’ll know my place.”
“Galina Petrovna, we’re coming back tomorrow. Can we… talk?”
A long pause.
“Of course. Come on over.”
After the conversation, Marina sat on the porch for a long time, gazing thoughtfully into the distance. The images from the camera kept replaying in her mind: how Galina cleaned their house, cooked borscht, talked to the cat, remembered the dress she had once chosen for her daughter-in-law. And in return — the hidden camera, the distrust, the surveillance.
“I was wrong,” she finally said when Konstantin returned home. “Completely wrong.”
The next evening, they were already back in the city. Galina Petrovna arrived right after the couple unloaded the car. She looked composed, but there was caution in her eyes.
“Come in, mom,” Konstantin hugged her. “We’re happy to see you.”
“Of course, of course,” she replied, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
An awkward silence filled the kitchen.
“Galina Petrovna,” Marina finally spoke up. “I owe you an apology. What I did was wrong. Ugly. Inhumane.”
Her mother-in-law looked at her intently, raising an eyebrow.
“What exactly are you apologizing for, Marina? For installing the camera, or for me finding out about it?”
The question was sharp, but fair.
“For everything,” Marina answered honestly. “For invading your privacy. For the lack of trust. For choosing spying over conversation.”
Galina nodded, accepting the apology, but it was clear that the hurt was still alive.
“When I watched those recordings,” Marina continued, “I saw you for the first time, not as my mother-in-law, but as a person. A person with feelings, fears, memories. I hadn’t thought before what it must be like for you.”
“And what is it like for me?” Galina asked with a slight irony.
“Lonely,” Marina said quietly. “And afraid of losing connection with your son. And it hurts when your efforts are taken as criticism.”
Galina raised her eyebrows in surprise — she hadn’t expected such candor.
“Exactly,” she said softly, turning the teacup in her hands. “When children become adults, when they have their own families, homes, their own habits… For a mother, it feels like a part of your soul is torn away. All through childhood — you’re there, caring, living for them. And then… they need each other, and you’re left alone.”
Konstantin reached out and gently covered his mother’s hand with his own.
“Mom, you’ll never be an outsider.”
“But I feel that way,” she softly replied. “Not because you don’t love me, Kostya. It’s just that life is set up this way, and we mothers often lose our role. And we don’t find a new place for ourselves.”
Marina felt a lump rise in her throat. For the first time, she saw Galina like this — vulnerable, human, real.
“I thought you considered me unworthy of your son,” she confessed. “That every remark you made was a way of saying: ‘You’re not good enough for him.’”
“Oh, Marina…” Galina sighed as if releasing a weight she had been carrying for years. “How could you think that?! I just wanted to help. In my own way, the way we were taught when we were young. Cook properly, clean well, darn socks. That’s how we were raised. But now everything’s different. Sometimes I just don’t know how to be close to you without interfering.”
“I think it’s not about what’s ‘proper,’ but about being together,” Marina smiled. “When you move things around or criticize my borscht, it feels like you’re saying, ‘You’re a bad housekeeper.’ But maybe you just want to be a part of my world.”
“Exactly,” Galina nodded. “I wanted to feel needed. But I don’t always know how to do it right.”
There was a pause. Barsik jumped onto his grandmother’s lap and meowed. She absentmindedly began petting him, and that simple action eased some of the tension in the room.
“I saw you took out that blue dress,” Marina said. “And I heard you tell Nina that Kostya said, ‘That’s her color.’”
Galina blushed slightly.
“Oh, I shouldn’t have touched your things…”
“No, it’s not that. I didn’t know he picked it out with you. He told me he bought it himself.”
Konstantin cleared his throat.
“Technically, that’s true. Mom just helped pick it out.”
Galina smiled at the corners of her lips.
“I was so worried he’d like it. And you never wore it… I even remembered.”
Marina lowered her gaze.
“Sorry I didn’t see all of this before. I thought you were nitpicking. But it turns out… you just love in your own way.”
“I do love,” Galina said quietly. “I just need to learn to do it differently now. If you’ll allow me.”
Marina nodded. For the first time in a long while, there was no animosity between them. Just two people beginning to understand each other.
“And why didn’t you tell me?” Marina asked, shifting her gaze from Konstantin to his mother.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I guess I was afraid that if you found out it was Mom’s suggestion, you wouldn’t even try it on.”
Marina thought for a moment, looking at Galina Petrovna.
“Honestly, I really did think that. That something chosen by you probably wouldn’t suit me. What a silly thought, right? I never even tried it on…”
“Try it on now,” her mother-in-law suddenly suggested. “I’d love to see how it fits you.”
Marina hesitated for a second but then nodded firmly.
“Okay. Right now.”
She went to the bedroom and returned a few minutes later wearing the same blue dress. It perfectly accentuated her figure and made her eyes stand out.
“You look simply stunning,” Galina sincerely said. In her eyes, there was something new — respect, approval… almost pride.
“Thank you,” Marina smiled shyly. “And for the choice too. You were right — it really is my color.”
Something invisible, yet important, had changed between them in that moment. It was as if a wall that had separated them for years had collapsed.
“Marinachka,” Galina began carefully, “I understand that I wasn’t always tactful. Sometimes I spoke harshly, without thinking. But I never wanted to hurt you. What matters to me is that my son is happy. And you — you really make him happy. That’s the most important thing.”
“And I guess I too often looked for hidden meaning in your words,” Marina admitted. “I took advice as criticism, and care as a hint at my flaws. That camera thing… I’m really sorry.”
Konstantin smiled, looking at them.
“Maybe we should start with a clean slate? New rules, boundaries, and respect?”
“Yes,” Galina nodded immediately.
“And I’m in too,” Marina added. She reached across the table: “Peace?”
Galina shook her hand firmly.
“Peace.”
A month passed. The May holidays were in the past, and life returned to its usual course. But something had changed.
Marina was standing at the stove, stirring a fragrant soup when the doorbell rang.
“Open!” she called out.
On the doorstep stood Galina Petrovna with a small package in her hands.
“Good afternoon, dear. I promised — here’s the recipe for the charlotte.”
“Hello! Come on in, I’m just making lunch.”
Galina peered into the pot.
“Mmm, mushroom? It smells amazing.”
“I decided to try a new recipe,” Marina replied, adding spices. “Would you like to try it? I promise — no quinoa or avocado.”
They both laughed, recalling that incident.
“With pleasure,” Galina nodded. “And I didn’t just bring the recipe.”
She unwrapped the package. In her palm lay an antique brooch with a blue stone.
“This is from my grandmother. I thought it would go perfectly with your blue dress.”
Marina carefully took the brooch.
“Galina Petrovna, but this is a family heirloom…”
“Exactly why I’m giving it to you,” the woman simply replied. “Now you’re part of our family.”
Marina’s heart warmed. Tears came to her eyes.
“Thank you… This means so much to me.”
“Alright, alright, let’s not get all emotional,” Galina blushed. “Let me help with lunch instead. Don’t think I’m criticizing — four hands are better than two.”
“Of course,” Marina handed her a wooden spoon. “Stir the soup, and I’ll take care of the salad.”
They worked side by side — not perfect, but real with each other. No cameras, no mistrust — just mutual understanding born from painful, but necessary, experience.
When Konstantin came home, he stopped at the kitchen door, unable to hide his surprise.
“Not a word,” Marina warned him. “We’re getting along great.”
“I see,” he smiled. “And I can’t believe my eyes.”
“It happens, son,” Galina winked at him. “Women have their secrets.”
“I wonder,” Marina thought, “who would’ve thought that this is how we’d find our way to each other? That sometimes you need to do something completely wrong to come to something right.”
Barsik, lying on the windowsill, purred, watching those who had finally become one family.