“Ugh! What is this disgusting stuff?” Nina Viktorovna demonstratively pushed the bowl of soup away, pursing her lips.
Yulia took a deep breath. Another lunch with her mother-in-law was turning into torture. As usual, the mother-in-law had shown up unannounced—she simply rang the doorbell when Yulia was still in her robe and just starting to cook.
“Nina Viktorovna, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it,” Yulia tried to speak calmly, though everything was boiling inside. “I cooked it according to the recipe Artem likes.”
“A recipe!” the mother-in-law threw up her hands. “I can cook any dish with my eyes closed! And what about yours? The meat is tough and there’s so much salt it cramps your tongue.”
Yulia silently cleared the dishes from the table. After two years of marriage, she had already gotten used to the constant criticism. Nina Viktorovna lived separately in a neighboring district but managed to visit them at least twice a week, each time finding new reasons to complain.
“Will Artem be home soon?” the mother-in-law asked, adjusting her perfectly styled gray hair.
“He’s at training; he promised to be back by three,” Yulia glanced at the clock. Another hour and a half alone with the mother-in-law. God, give me strength.
“At training!” Nina Viktorovna shook her head. “On a Sunday! And there’s plenty to do at home. The bathroom shelf is wobbly, the faucet is dripping. But no—gym is more important.”
Yulia stayed silent. Artem really had promised to fix the shelf, but he had a tough week at work, and she didn’t want to bother him with little things.
“You’re no better,” the mother-in-law continued, following Yulia into the kitchen. “You could have called a handyman if your husband’s busy. Or tried to fix it yourself. I always did everything myself—hung wallpaper, changed sockets.”
“I work five days a week, Nina Viktorovna,” Yulia began washing the dishes, trying to focus on the monotonous task. “I don’t have much free time either.”
“She works!” the mother-in-law snorted. “Sitting in your office, shuffling papers. Is that work? I worked as a nurse for thirty years—that’s work! And you…”
Yulia squeezed the sponge tighter. Her job as an accountant in a large company required constant concentration and responsibility. She often worked late, especially at the end of the quarter. But to her mother-in-law, it was always “just papers.”
“Look at yourself,” Nina Viktorovna gave her daughter-in-law a critical look. “Your robe is worn out, your hair is a mess. Do you ever look in the mirror? No wonder Artem stays late at work.”
Yulia froze. That was a low blow. Yes, today she hadn’t had time to get ready exactly because the mother-in-law came earlier than agreed. And about Artem staying late— that was made up. Her husband always warned if he was delayed, and it happened rarely.
“Nina Viktorovna, I didn’t have time to change because you came earlier than we agreed,” Yulia wiped her hands with a towel and turned to her mother-in-law. “And Artem isn’t staying late at work. He…”
“Oh, don’t tell me fairy tales,” the mother-in-law interrupted. “I see how tired he is. He comes home to no comfort, no tasty dinner. My poor boy.”
Yulia clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms. She created comfort as best she could. She worked, cooked, cleaned, tried to be a good wife. And Artem never complained—in fact, he often said how lucky he was with her.
“Nina Viktorovna, let’s wait for Artem and ask him,” Yulia suggested, feeling her voice tremble with restrained emotions. “I’m sure he…”
“What will he say?” the mother-in-law interrupted again. “Of course, he’ll defend you. Men are like that—they just want peace at home. But I see the truth. I’m a mother; I can feel when something’s wrong with my son.”
Yulia turned to the window, trying to calm down. Yellow leaves were falling outside, the sky was overcast. Autumn. Two years ago on a similar autumn day, she and Artem got married. They were happy, making plans. Who knew the mother-in-law would become a constant shadow in their lives, a source of endless tension.
“And these curtains…” Nina Viktorovna continued inspecting the apartment. “What’s it called? Some blackout? I told Artem—why such dark ones? They just bring gloom. Should’ve hung light ones, like mine.”
Yulia silently looked out the window. She and her husband had chosen the curtains together. They walked around stores for a long time, compared, tried them in the interior. Both were satisfied with the choice.
“Yulia, are you even listening to me?” the mother-in-law raised her voice. “I’m talking to you, by the way!”
“Yes, Nina Viktorovna, I’m listening,” Yulia turned to her mother-in-law, trying to hide her irritation. “Artem and I chose the curtains together. He likes them.”
“Artem just didn’t want to upset you,” the mother-in-law waved it off. “He’s kind and accommodating. Just like his father. He used to indulge me in everything.”
Yulia remembered a photo of her late father-in-law—a tall man with tired eyes and perpetually slumped shoulders. Artem said his father rarely argued with his mother, preferring to spend time in the garage or fishing—away from home.
“Want some tea?” Yulia offered, hoping to ease the mood a bit.
“Sure,” Nina Viktorovna nodded, sitting at the kitchen table. “But not that bagged stuff you usually brew. I can’t stand it.”
Yulia silently got out a teapot and a box of loose leaf tea she kept specifically for her mother-in-law’s visits. While the water boiled, Nina Viktorovna continued inspecting the kitchen, clicking her tongue occasionally.
“When was the stove last cleaned? Look how burnt everything is. And the fridge is humming—it’ll break soon. I told Artem to get the one I picked—a German one. But you bought that cheap Chinese junk.”
Yulia arranged the cups, trying not to react. They had chosen the fridge based on reviews; it was quite reliable and inexpensive. They just didn’t have enough money for the German one—the first year of marriage was financially difficult.
“How are things with money now?” the mother-in-law asked, as if reading her thoughts. “Artem said he got a bonus.”
“We’re fine,” Yulia replied briefly, pouring tea. “Artem saved his bonus for vacation.”
“A vacation!” Nina Viktorovna shook her head. “Better to do repairs or change the car. You drive that old wreck.”
Yulia gritted her teeth. Their three-year-old car was in excellent condition. And they had planned the vacation for a whole year—they wanted to go to the sea, which Yulia hadn’t seen since childhood.
“We’ve been planning this trip for a long time,” she said, sitting opposite her mother-in-law. “Artem thinks we need to rest.”
“Rest!” the mother-in-law snorted. “At your age, Artem’s father and I didn’t even think about such things. We worked, furnished the apartment, raised a child. And you just have fun.”
Yulia felt a lump in her throat. She and Artem had been trying to have a child for over a year, but so far unsuccessfully. Doctors said they needed time and less stress. Easy to say.
“Speaking of children,” Nina Viktorovna took a sip of tea and looked intently at her daughter-in-law, “are you even trying? Or just having fun?”
Yulia flinched at the blunt question.
“That’s… personal, Nina Viktorovna.”
“Personal!” the mother-in-law smirked. “I’m Artem’s mother; nothing is personal when it comes to his family. I’m already sixty, by the way. I want grandchildren to take care of while I still have strength.”
Yulia was silent, staring into her cup. She didn’t intend to discuss her and Artem’s intimate life or plans for children with her mother-in-law. But Nina Viktorovna wouldn’t let it go.
“Maybe you should see a doctor?” she continued. “There are so many procedures now. My neighbor, Valentina Petrovna, told me about her daughter—she couldn’t get pregnant either. Turned out some hormones were off.”
“We have consulted doctors,” Yulia replied dryly. “Everything is under control.”
“Under control!” mocked the mother-in-law. “And no results. Artem must be worried. He loves children. I remember how he used to play with the neighbor’s kids when he was little.”
Yulia felt a wave of anger rising inside. Yes, Artem wanted children. And she did too. And they both worried since it wasn’t happening yet. But her husband never blamed her, always supported her, saying everything happens in its own time.
“Nina Viktorovna,” Yulia tried to speak firmly, “Artem and I will manage. This is our family and our decisions.”
“Your family!” the mother-in-law raised her voice. “And I’m nothing? Just some stranger from the street? I raised him, lost sleep when he was sick! And now I can’t even ask when to expect grandchildren?”
Yulia stood up from the table, feeling she might break down any second. She needed at least a moment alone to gather her thoughts.
“Excuse me, I need to check the laundry in the washing machine,” she said and left the kitchen.
In the bathroom, Yulia turned on the water and splashed her face. In the mirror, a pale woman with tense eyes looked back. When did everything get so complicated? Why does an ordinary Sunday turn into a nerve-wracking ordeal?
She remembered how she met Artem. It was love at first sight—they met at a mutual friend’s birthday, talked all evening, and parted only at dawn. Then came dates, trips, meeting the parents… Nina Viktorovna had kept a cool attitude from the start, but Yulia hoped relations would improve over time. How wrong she was.
Taking a deep breath, Yulia returned to the kitchen. The mother-in-law stood by the open fridge, studying its contents.
“And that’s all you have?” Nina Viktorovna shook her head. “What is this… frozen vegetables? No wonder Artem is so thin. You don’t feed him properly.”
“Artem is happy with how I cook,” Yulia closed the fridge, pushing aside the mother-in-law. “And he’s not thin, he’s fit. He works out regularly.”
“Oh, don’t make me laugh,” Nina Viktorovna crossed her arms. “I’m his mother; I know better what weight is normal for him. And now he looks wasted. When he lived at home, he was strong, with rosy cheeks.”
Yulia rolled her eyes. When Artem “lived at home,” he was twenty-two. Now he was thirty, of course he had changed.
“Besides,” the mother-in-law sat back at the table, “those workouts won’t end well. They’ll ruin his heart. Valentina Petrovna’s nephew…”
“Nina Viktorovna,” Yulia interrupted, losing patience, “let’s change the subject. How’s your blood pressure? You said last time it was rising.”
“Don’t change the subject,” the mother-in-law cut her off. “I’m talking about serious things, and you ask about blood pressure. My blood pressure is fine, don’t expect otherwise.”
Yulia sighed. Every conversation with her mother-in-law turned into a battle. No matter what she said or tried to soften the mood—it was useless.
“I’m just worried about your health,” Yulia tried once more.
“Better worry about your own,” Nina Viktorovna snapped. “Especially about women’s health. The years go by, and no children yet.”
There it was. That topic again. Yulia had cried many times after failed pregnancy tests, blamed herself many times, though doctors said everything was fine and just needed time.
“Nina Viktorovna,” Yulia’s voice became quieter but firmer, “I ask you not to bring up this topic. It concerns only Artem and me.”
“Not a chance!” the mother-in-law raised her voice. “It concerns me directly! I have the right to know when I will have grandchildren!”
“No, you don’t,” Yulia felt her hands tremble from tension. “It’s private, and I ask you to respect our family.”
“Family!” Nina Viktorovna threw up her hands. “I’m Artem’s mother; I’m part of this family!”
“You’re Artem’s mother, but not my mother,” Yulia said firmly. “And I have the right not to discuss certain topics with you.”
Nina Viktorovna gave her daughter-in-law a contemptuous look.
“Looks like you’ve really gotten out of line. Artem’s not home—and you show your true colors. And when he’s around, you’re probably quiet as a mouse.”
“I’m always the same,” Yulia clenched her fists under the table. “Artem and I have honest, open relations.”
“Honest?” Nina Viktorovna smirked. “Does he know you probably can’t have children? That you lied to him by marrying him?”
That was a low blow. Yulia caught her breath. How could the mother-in-law know about her fears? Even doctors hadn’t said anything like that—just advised patience.
“What are you talking about?” Yulia whispered.
“Oh, you don’t know!” Nina Viktorovna leaned forward. “Two years of marriage and no results. Obviously, the problem is you. My son is a healthy man from a healthy family. We all have many children!”
“You…” Yulia gasped indignantly, “you have no right to say that. You know nothing about our situation.”
“I know enough!” the mother-in-law snapped. “I know you’re depriving my son of fatherhood happiness! I know he suffers with you but keeps silent because he’s too kind! I know you…”
Yulia abruptly stood up, unable to listen any longer. Her hands trembled, her ears rang from the rush of blood.
“Stop,” her voice was unexpectedly low and firm. “Stop it right now.”
But Nina Viktorovna, feeling she had hit a nerve, only got angrier:
“What, does it hurt to hear the truth? I told Artem long ago: don’t rush to marry, look closer. But no, he fell in love, lost his mind. And now what? Infertile wife, no prospects for a normal family!”
That was the last straw. Yulia grabbed the frying pan from the table she hadn’t put away after washing and stepped toward the mother-in-law:
“You’d better watch your tongue, Nina Viktorovna, before I hit you with this pan!”
“How dare you?! I…”
“Enough! I’ve endured your mockery for two years, but there’s a limit!” Yulia’s voice trembled with rage.
Nina Viktorovna recoiled, her face distorted with shock. She clearly hadn’t expected such a reaction from the usually quiet and restrained daughter-in-law.
“You… What do you think you’re doing?” the mother-in-law stammered. “How dare you raise your hand against me?”
“I’m not raising my hand,” Yulia ground out through clenched teeth, still holding the pan. “But if you say one more word about my ‘infertility’ or how I ‘torment’ your son—I swear, I won’t be responsible for myself!”
At that moment, the front door opened, and Artem entered the hallway.
“Hi! I’m home!” he called cheerfully. “What’s for lunch?”
Hearing her son’s voice, Nina Viktorovna’s face instantly changed. Her lips trembled, tears appeared in her eyes.
“Artemushka!” she exclaimed, rushing into the hallway. “Thank God you came! Your wife has gone crazy! She threatened me and tried to hit me with a frying pan!”
Artem froze in the hallway, shifting a confused glance between his mother and wife. Yulia still stood in the kitchen doorway, clutching the frying pan. Her face was pale but determined.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, taking off his jacket. “Mom, Yulia, can someone explain?”
“Your wife threatened me!” Nina Viktorovna pointed tremblingly at the frying pan. “I just expressed concern about your family, and she grabbed this thing and lunged at me!”
Artem looked at Yulia; there was a silent question in his eyes. In two years of marriage, he had never seen his wife raise her voice, let alone threaten anyone.
“Yulia?” he asked quietly.
Yulia slowly put the pan down on the table and took a deep breath.
“Your mother,” she began, trying to speak calmly, “went too far today. She didn’t just criticize the food and the apartment, as usual. She said I’m infertile, that I deceived you by marrying you, and that I’m depriving you of the happiness of having children.”
Artem went pale. He knew how painful the topic of children was for Yulia. They both wanted a child, but it hadn’t worked out yet, and doctors advised not to stress and to be patient.
“Mom, is that true?” he turned to Nina Viktorovna. “Did you say that?”
“I was just making a suggestion!” the mother-in-law threw up her hands. “Two years of marriage and nothing! Of course, I worry about you, son. You dream of children!”
“A suggestion?” Yulia smiled bitterly. “You said I’m definitely infertile, that everyone in our family has many children, and the problem is only me. You called me a liar!”
“I didn’t say that!” Nina Viktorovna protested, clutching her heart. “Artemushka, she’s twisting everything! I came to visit you…”
“You came and spent the whole day criticizing me!”
Artem raised his hands, calling for silence from both women. His face became stern, a crease forming between his eyebrows.
“Let’s all calm down,” he said firmly. “Mom, I don’t believe Yulia grabbed the pan for no reason. In two years, I’ve never seen her raise her voice, let alone threaten someone.”
Nina Viktorovna opened her mouth to argue, but Artem stopped her with a gesture.
“No, Mom, now you listen to me. I was silent for a long time, hoping you and Yulia would find common ground. I pretended not to notice your constant nagging and criticism. But today you crossed all boundaries.”
“What boundaries?” Nina Viktorovna sobbed. “I’m your mother! I have the right to say what I think!”
“No, you don’t,” Artem cut her off. “Not when it comes to such personal things as our plans for children. Not when you insult my wife in our home.”
Nina Viktorovna looked at her son in shock. In all these years, he had never spoken to her in such a tone.
“So that’s how it is?” she asked in a trembling voice. “After everything I did for you?”
“That’s right,” Artem replied firmly. “And yes, I will always stand by my wife when she is hurt. Even if it’s you, Mom.”
Yulia silently looked at her husband, feeling tears welling up—not from hurt but from gratitude. Finally, he saw the situation as it was.
“And also, Mom,” Artem continued, “I want you to know: Yulia and I want children very much. We’re working on it. But even if we can’t have biological children, that doesn’t make our family incomplete or unhappy.”
“Oh God, what are you talking about!” Nina Viktorovna gasped. “Of course, you need your own children! Those adopted ones aren’t the same!”
“See?” Artem shook his head. “You don’t even listen to what I say. You’re sure you know better what we need and want. And that doesn’t change over the years.”
“Because I really do know better!” Nina Viktorovna slammed her fist on the wall. “I’m older, wiser! I raised you alone, without any help! And she…” the woman disdainfully nodded toward Yulia, “she can’t even cook properly!”
“That’s enough,” Artem rubbed his face tiredly. “Mom, I think you’d better leave. Everyone is emotional now; we need to cool down.”
“You’re kicking me out?” Nina Viktorovna widened her eyes. “Kicking your own mother out because of that infertile girl…”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Artem interrupted. “And yes, I’m asking you to leave. And I ask you to call before coming in the future.”
Nina Viktorovna flushed with anger. She grabbed her bag and headed for the door.
“Fine, I’ll leave!” she hissed. “But know this, son—you’re making a mistake. This woman is turning you against your own mother! She’s manipulating you!”
Artem silently opened the door. His face was impassive, but determination showed in his eyes.
“Goodbye, Mom. Call when you’re ready for a normal conversation.”
Nina Viktorovna gave her daughter-in-law one last hateful look and left, slamming the door loudly. Silence fell over the apartment.
Artem turned to Yulia and hugged her tightly. She buried her face in his shoulder, feeling the tension accumulated during the day release.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry I didn’t see how hard it’s been for you with her. That I didn’t intervene earlier.”
“It’s okay,” Yulia raised her head and gave a weak smile. “The main thing is that you’re here now. That you see the truth.”
Artem kissed her forehead.
“We’ll get through this,” he said confidently. “With Mom, with children, with everything. Together.”
Yulia nodded. For the first time in a long time, she felt she was truly not alone in this struggle. That she had a real family—even if, for now, it was just the two of them…