Elena was folding the kitchen towels — new ones, with a delicate floral pattern — when the phone vibrated. She sighed: four missed calls from Katya, a friend from work. It was probably nothing important. Elena returned to the cupboard, but the phone vibrated again.
“Lena, why aren’t you answering?” Katya babbled. “Did you know that Antonina Pavlovna has a jubilee on Saturday?”
Elena froze, holding the towel tightly in her hand.
“What jubilee?”
“She’s turning seventy-five. Svetka called me, she’s invited with Dimka. She says Antonina sent invitations to everyone two weeks ago.”
The towel slipped from Elena’s hands. Thirty-two years of marriage to Igor, and she had never missed a family celebration. But now, Antonina’s jubilee — and nothing.
“Maybe they forgot?” Elena whispered, though she didn’t believe it herself.
“Forgot? Svetka says there’s a guest list for twenty people. Everyone’s invited: Igor’s brothers with their wives, even their former neighbor from the fifth floor.”
Elena sat down on a stool. Memories rushed back: how she had taken care of her mother-in-law after her gallbladder surgery, how she had given up her vacation days so Antonina could get new dentures, how she had babysat her grandchildren when everyone else was busy.
“I’ll tell you what,” Katya continued, “it’s all because of that cake last New Year’s. Remember how you bought the wrong one?”
“Katya, the cake has nothing to do with it. She just… always thought of me as an outsider.”
The front door slammed — Igor had returned. Elena quickly said goodbye to her friend.
Her husband walked into the kitchen, shaking the rainwater out of his hair like a boy. Elena looked at the wrinkles around his eyes, the familiar features. Thirty-two years together. And still — an outsider.
“Igor, is your mom having a jubilee on Saturday?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
He froze in front of the fridge, not turning.
“Yeah, something’s planned.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Igor opened the fridge and studied its contents as though he was seeing them for the first time.
“Mom doesn’t want a big celebration. Just the closest family.”
“Closest family,” Elena repeated, echoing his words. “And I’m not part of that?”
“Lena, why start this? You know mom. She has her quirks.”
“Quirks?” Elena felt a surge inside. “I’ve been tolerating her quirks for thirty-two years! These aren’t quirks, Igor, this is… this is…”
She couldn’t find the right word and just waved her hand dismissively.
“I helped her after her surgery when you were on a business trip. I gave up my vacation time so she could get new dentures. I babysat her grandkids when Irka went on a holiday. Thirty-two years of trying to be a good daughter-in-law. And this is how it is?”
Igor rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Lena, do you really need to count every little thing? Who owes whom?”
“I’m not counting!” Elena’s voice trembled. “I just want to be part of the family. Your family. Is that really too much to ask?”
Igor sighed deeply and sat down on a chair.
“Listen, you’re exaggerating. Mom just wants a quiet celebration.”
“Quiet? For twenty people?” Elena felt every word scrape her throat. “And even the neighbor from the fifth floor is invited!”
“How do you…?”
“Does it matter how?” she grabbed the kitchen towel and began frantically wiping the already dry countertop. “Thirty-two years, Igor! What did I do wrong? Tell me!”
Igor reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
“Lena, you know mom. She still thinks you took me away from her.”
“Took you away?” Elena laughed bitterly. “You were twenty-five when we met! Not five!”
She remembered the first time she entered Antonina’s house, how she tried to make a good impression, baking a pie from her grandmother’s recipe. But her mother-in-law just pressed her lips together and said, “We don’t cook like that in our family.”
“All my life,” Elena continued, “I’ve tried to please her. And what has she done? Remember how she told everyone I was raising Deniska wrong? Or how she told my parents I couldn’t cook? And you’ve always stayed silent, always! You maintained neutrality!”
“So what do you want me to do?” Igor’s voice grew irritated. “Should I fight with my mom over some party?”
“Not over the party!” Elena exclaimed. “Over the way she treats me! The fact that your mom hasn’t considered me part of the family for thirty-two years, and you let it happen!”
She turned toward the window. Outside, the rain drizzled, gray and dreary, just like her mood.
“Lena, stop dramatizing,” Igor walked over and awkwardly put his arms around her shoulders. “Do you want me to talk to her? Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” Elena freed herself from his embrace. “No, Igor. That would have been a misunderstanding if this was the first time. But now… now this is just a slap in my soul.”
The following days, Elena walked around in a fog. At work, she smiled through clenched teeth, at home, she stayed silent. Igor tried to smooth things over, but every argument only intensified the pain.
“You have no idea how upset she was last year over that cake,” he said Thursday night as they were having dinner. “Mom thinks you did it on purpose.”
“On purpose?” Elena put down her fork. “I went to three bakeries to find a gluten-free cake because she’s allergic!”
“But you know she only likes meringue, and you got the one with cream.”
“Because they were out of the meringue ones!” Elena felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Do you really think I spent half a day looking for a cake just to purposely get the wrong one?”
Igor fell silent, and that silence spoke louder than any words.
On Friday evening, Elena went into her son’s room. Deniska had come for the weekend. He was lying on the couch, glued to his phone.
“Denis, grandma’s jubilee is soon.”
“Yeah,” he responded without lifting his eyes from the screen. “Dad told me.”
“And you’re… going?”
Denis finally looked up at her.
“Grandma asked me. What, I’m not gonna congratulate her?”
Elena nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. Even her son didn’t notice the injustice.
“Of course,” she said quietly. “Of course, congratulate her.”
Saturday came, and the house was empty. Igor and Denis left in the morning, loaded with gifts and flowers. Elena was left alone. She aimlessly wandered through the rooms. In every photo, Antonina Pavlovna stood slightly apart.
Elena ran her finger along the edge of a photo frame. It was a family picture from five years ago — Deniska’s wedding. She wore a blue dress, Igor was in a sharp suit, the newlyweds were glowing. Antonina Pavlovna looked like she’d been forced to drink vinegar.
“Even on such a day,” Elena whispered, speaking to the photo. “Even at my grandson’s wedding.”
She remembered how her mother-in-law had pulled her son aside and loudly, for everyone to hear, said, “At least my grandson married a decent girl, unlike some.” And how Igor stayed silent once again.
That evening, Igor and Denis returned, drunk and happy. They smelled of expensive perfume — Antonina Pavlovna’s.
“How was it?” Elena asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
“Great!” Igor flopped into a chair. “Mom was so happy. You should have seen how she lit up when we…”
He stopped, noticing the expression on his wife’s face.
“Sorry, Lena. I didn’t think.”
Denis awkwardly shuffled in the hallway.
“I think I’ll go to sleep,” he mumbled, disappearing into his room.
“Say hi to mom from me,” Igor added after a pause.
“Hi?” Elena felt her insides clench. “She remembered I exist?”
“Lena, come on…”
“No, you come on!” She couldn’t hold back anymore. “Stop pretending everything is fine. Your mother humiliated me. Again! And you don’t care!”
“I do care,” Igor stood up from his chair. “I just don’t want to be stuck in the middle. You both…”
“What are we both?” Elena interrupted. “Finish your sentence! What are we both?”
Igor rubbed his temples.
“You’re both too emotional. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Ah, I see,” Elena gave a bitter smile. “So my pain is just ‘making a mountain out of a molehill’?”
She turned around and went into the bedroom, slamming the door.
Ten days passed.
Elena and Igor spoke coldly, businesslike. Denis left. Life returned to its usual rhythm.
Elena stopped calling her mother-in-law on Sundays like she used to. She stopped asking about her health. And strangely enough, instead of guilt, a strange sense of relief washed over her. It was as if she had taken off a heavy backpack she had been carrying for thirty years.
On the eleventh day after the jubilee, Elena’s phone rang. The screen showed “Antonina Pavlovna.” Elena froze, unsure whether to pick up the call. The phone kept ringing, and she stared at it as if it were a venomous snake. Finally, she decided to answer.
“Hello?”
“Lena, hello,” her mother-in-law’s voice sounded unusually soft. “How are you, darling?”
Elena closed her eyes. “Darling.” In thirty-two years, Antonina Pavlovna had never called her that.
“Hello, Antonina Pavlovna. I’m fine, thank you.”
“I’ve gotten so sick,” Antonina Pavlovna’s voice took on a plaintive tone. “After the jubilee, I collapsed. My blood pressure is all over the place, my heart is pounding, and I can’t walk.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Elena responded. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“Doctors? They just take your money and don’t help. I need to go to a sanatorium, to recover. Igor said you had some vacation saved up?”
Elena felt a chill run down her spine. Now she understood.
“Yes, we were saving for a trip to the sea,” she replied cautiously.
“Darling,” Antonina Pavlovna’s voice turned even sweeter, “you know how I feel about you. You’re like a daughter to me. I would never ask, but the situation is so tough…”
“Like a daughter,” Elena repeated mentally. Thirty-two years, and she had never once been called a daughter. And now — this.
“Does Igor know about your request?” she asked.
“No, don’t worry!” her mother-in-law sounded anxious. “He’s so worried about me, I don’t want to upset him. We’re both women, we understand each other.”
Elena was silent. Images flashed through her mind: giving money to her mother-in-law, postponing the trip to the sea she had dreamed of for three years, Antonina Pavlovna at the sanatorium, boasting to her friends about how she had cunningly extracted money from “that upstart.”
“Antonina Pavlovna,” Elena’s voice was unexpectedly calm, “how much do you need?”
“Oh, darling, the ticket costs forty thousand, but if I could at least get half…”
“No, I’m not asking about that,” Elena interrupted. “I’m asking how much more humiliation do you need from me? How many more years do I have to prove that I deserve to be part of your family?”
A deafening silence hung in the air.
“How dare you…” her mother-in-law faltered, then her voice suddenly turned cold as usual: “So, you’re refusing to help a sick old woman?”
“I’m refusing to be used,” Elena replied firmly. “You didn’t invite me to the jubilee. But now you remember me when you need money.”
“How dare you!” Antonina Pavlovna shrieked. “After everything I’ve done for you! I gave you my son!”
“Gave me?” Elena laughed bitterly. “You didn’t give him to me. Igor and I chose each other. And you… you’ve spent thirty-two years trying to prove I’m not good enough.”
“I’ll tell Igor everything! He’ll have to choose between us, you’ll see!”
“Tell him,” Elena replied calmly. “I’m no longer afraid of the truth. Respect should be mutual, Antonina Pavlovna.”
She hung up the call and sat there for several minutes, staring blankly. A strange cocktail of emotions swirled inside her: shame, relief, fear, and… pride?
That evening, Igor returned. By his face, Elena knew the call from his mother had already happened.
“What have you done?” he started as soon as he entered. “Mom’s in hysterics! She says you were rude to her, refused to help!”
Elena took a deep breath.
“Sit down, Igor. We need to talk.”
They sat at the kitchen table until midnight. Elena spoke calmly, without accusations, just telling him how she had felt all these years. How she had tried, how she had hoped, how she had hit a wall of alienation. Igor started off defending himself, then got angry, and finally just listened.
“What do you want from me?” he finally asked. “You want me to give up on my mother?”
“No,” Elena shook her head. “Just don’t demand that I be an endless donor. Emotional, financial, whatever. For someone who doesn’t respect me. Stand by my side. Just once.”
Igor was silent for a long time, rubbing his temples.
“You know, I always thought I was staying neutral,” he finally said. “But now I realize it was… cowardice. Pure cowardice.”
Elena gently touched his hand.
“Not cowardice. The desire for everyone to be happy. But it doesn’t work that way, Igor.”
“And what now?” he looked at her wearily.
“Now, we’re going to learn to respect boundaries. Mine, yours, your mother’s. I won’t bend anymore to please anyone. But I also won’t ask you to choose between us.”
The next day, Igor went to his mother. He returned grim but calm.
“I talked to her. I told her we wouldn’t give any money for the sanatorium. And from now on, she has to respect you if she wants to see both of us.”
“And how did she react?”
“At first, she threw a tantrum,” Igor smiled weakly. “Then she started blaming you for everything. But when I was about to leave… she cried. For real, not fake. She said she was afraid of being left alone.”
Elena felt a stab of sympathy.
“We won’t leave her,” she said quietly. “We just won’t let her boss us around anymore.”
A week later, Antonina Pavlovna called again. This time, she called Igor right away. She asked him to bring her medicine. Igor brought it, and Elena came along. Her mother-in-law greeted her warily, but without the usual coldness.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked awkwardly.
“Yes,” Elena nodded.
They sat together, sipping tea with cherry jam, talking about the weather, health, and news. Not a word about the jubilee, not a word about the sanatorium. Elena felt that something had changed. Not in Antonina Pavlovna. In herself.