Alice watched Anton as he carefully hung his few shirts in the spacious closet of her bedroom. They had been married only three weeks, and only now had he finally moved in with her. The apartment was truly impressive—four rooms in a new residential complex, with panoramic windows and modern finishes. Anton still couldn’t believe his young wife could afford a place like this.
— You still don’t believe I can rent this apartment? — Alice smiled, noticing his thoughtful look.
— I’m just surprised, — Anton admitted honestly. — You’re a designer, I’m a manager. Our salaries are good, but not good enough for this.
— I told you it’s through connections. I’m looking after the place while the owners are away. Very favorable terms, — Alice turned toward the window, not wanting to continue the topic.
Anton nodded, though something in her explanation still felt incomplete. But he trusted his wife and didn’t want to pester her with questions.
The doorbell interrupted their conversation. Alice frowned—they weren’t expecting anyone.
— It’s Mom, — Anton said after looking through the peephole. — I forgot to warn you she wanted to drop by to see how we’re settling in.
Valentina Mikhailovna entered the apartment like she owned it, casting a critical eye over the interior and lingering on every detail. Fifty-eight years old, she had spent her whole life used to controlling everything—first her husband, then her son, and now, apparently, she had decided to take on her daughter-in-law.
— Antosha, — she hugged her son tightly, deliberately ignoring Alice, — how can you live like this? It’s so stuffy! And why are the curtains wrinkled? And the dust on the shelves—just awful.
— Mom, we only finished arranging things yesterday, — Anton tried to explain.
— And why are you keeping quiet? — Valentina Mikhailovna finally addressed Alice. — A hostess should keep things in order. In my day, girls knew how to run a household.
Alice clenched her teeth but said nothing. She understood that first impressions matter and didn’t want to ruin her relationship with her mother-in-law from the very start.
Over the next few weeks the mother-in-law’s visits became more frequent. Valentina Mikhailovna came almost every day, usually around lunchtime when Anton was at work. She checked how Alice cooked, criticized her culinary skills, and made her rewash the dishes if they didn’t seem clean enough.
— You have to wash forks especially carefully; dirt collects between the tines, — she lectured, watching Alice rinse already perfectly clean cutlery for the third time.
— I understand, Valentina Mikhailovna, — Alice answered patiently.
— And you don’t know how to make soup at all! Watch how it’s done, — the mother-in-law pushed her away from the stove and started cooking herself. — Anton is used to my soup. I don’t want him to suffer because you don’t know how.
Alice stepped aside, watching another woman run her home. In the evening she tried to tell Anton about his mother’s behavior, but he only shrugged.
— Mom has always been… proactive. She’s used to taking care of things. Just don’t pay attention, — he said, buried in his phone.
— But she treats me like hired help! She makes me rewash clean dishes and criticizes everything I do.
— She’ll calm down soon. Just give her time to get used to it.
But time passed, and Valentina Mikhailovna not only failed to calm down—she became even more intrusive. She rummaged through the closets, rearranged things as she saw fit, and gave lectures on the proper way to iron Anton’s shirts.
— You’ve got two left hands, — she declared one day, watching Alice try to iron a men’s shirt. — Give it here, I’ll do it myself. And you go dust, since you can’t handle an iron.
Alice felt irritation building inside her. She tried to stay calm, but each day it became harder. Anton, however, continued to act as if nothing unusual was happening.
The breaking point came on a rainy Thursday. Alice was working from home, sitting at her computer, when the doorbell rang. As usual, Valentina Mikhailovna arrived uninvited.
— And what are you doing sitting here? — she asked with displeasure. — The house is a mess and you’re glued to the internet.
— I’m working, Valentina Mikhailovna. I have an important project.
— Work is work, but the house comes first. Anton will be home soon and you’ve got a mess here and no dinner. What will he think of his wife?
— Anton knows I’m working. We agreed we’d have dinner at a café today.
— A café? — the mother-in-law was outraged. — Wasting money on that junk when you can eat properly at home? Get up immediately and go cook!
— I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have a deadline.
Valentina Mikhailovna walked up to the computer and snapped the laptop shut.
— Can you now? Enough fooling around—go to the kitchen!
Alice jumped to her feet; her patience snapped.
— What are you doing? You could break the laptop! I need it for work!
— Now you’ll do something useful, — she answered coolly. — I don’t understand what Anton sees in you. A lazybones and a bungler.
— Stop it! This is my home, and you have no right…
— No right? — Valentina Mikhailovna stepped closer, her face contorted with anger. — This is my son’s home! And you’re nobody here! A temporary lodger!
— Leave! Leave this instant!
— Don’t you dare tell me what to do! — The mother-in-law raised her hand and swung at Alice.
Instinctively, the young woman recoiled, and Valentina Mikhailovna’s hand only grazed her shoulder. But it was enough. Something inside Alice finally broke.
— That’s it, — she said quietly but very clearly. — We’re moving. And we’re not leaving an address.
Valentina Mikhailovna laughed—spiteful and scornful.
— Moving? With what money, exactly? On Anton’s salary? Or on the pennies you make as a designer? Don’t make me laugh!
Alice slowly walked to the window, gathering her thoughts. She had never told her husband the whole truth about her finances. She hadn’t said that this apartment belonged to her, as did much else. She didn’t want to be loved for her money.
— You see, Valentina Mikhailovna, — she began, without turning from the window, — there are things you don’t know. My father is Alexander Sokolov.
The mother-in-law frowned. The name rang a bell.
— Alexander Sokolov… the owner of the construction company StroyInvest? — she asked skeptically.
— The very same. And this apartment isn’t rented. It’s mine. As is the two-story cottage outside the city, where we’ll be moving tomorrow, — Alice finally turned to face her. — We can work remotely. Anton won’t tell you the new address. You won’t know when our children are born. And you won’t be able to say another word to me!
Valentina Mikhailovna’s face went pale. She knew who Alexander Sokolov was—one of the city’s wealthiest businessmen.
— But… but why didn’t you say so earlier? — she stammered.
— Because I didn’t want to be loved for my father’s money. He and I have been at odds for three years—he disapproved of my choice of profession. But that doesn’t mean I’m without means.
The mother-in-law sank onto the sofa, realizing the scale of her mistake.
— Alice, I… I didn’t know. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean—
— You did. You wanted to humiliate me, to put me in my place. Congratulations, you succeeded. Only now your place is outside the threshold of our life.
That evening Alice told Anton what had happened. He listened without interrupting, his face growing darker.
— Mom raised a hand to you? — he repeated.
— She swung at me. That’s enough.
— And about your father… is it true?
— Yes. I didn’t want to hide it from you, I just… was afraid it would change how you felt about me.
Anton hugged her.
— Nothing will change. I fell in love with you, not your bank account. And my mother… she went way too far.
In the morning they started packing. Alice called movers, and by evening they were moving into the country house. Valentina Mikhailovna came three times—morning, noon, and night—begging for forgiveness.
— Antosha, my son, don’t do this! I understand my mistake! — she cried. — Alice, dear, forgive foolish me!
But Alice was firm. They left without a forwarding address.
The cottage turned out to be even more beautiful than Anton had imagined. A two-story house with a large plot, a sauna, and a two-car garage. Alice showed him the rooms, telling him about her plans for the place.
— This will be the nursery, — she said, opening the door to a sunny room on the second floor.
— You’re already thinking about children?
— Aren’t you? — she smiled.
The months passed peacefully. They worked, made the house their own, got used to the new life. Several times Valentina Mikhailovna tried to find them through mutual acquaintances, but without success.
Everything changed when Alice learned she was pregnant. That evening she told Anton, and they held each other for a long time, making plans for the future.
— What about Mom? — Anton asked. — She is the future grandmother.
Alice was silent for a moment. Over those months, her anger had subsided, giving way to other feelings.
— I don’t know, — she answered honestly. — The anger is gone, but the trust isn’t there.
— Maybe we should give her another chance? When the baby is born?
— We’ll see.
When Alice was seven months along, they ran into Valentina Mikhailovna at the clinic. The woman had lost a lot of weight and looked older than her years. Seeing them, she burst into tears.
— Antosha… Alisochka… — she approached them hesitantly. — How are you? How’s your health?
— Fine, — Anton answered curtly.
Valentina Mikhailovna looked at Alice’s rounded belly; such longing showed in her eyes that Alice’s heart gave a little twinge.
— Mom, — Anton said quietly, — we’re expecting a child.
— I know, — Valentina Mikhailovna whispered. — The neighbors said they saw you at Detsky Mir.
Alice looked at her husband and then at her mother-in-law.
— If you’re ready to change your behavior…
— I am! I’m ready for anything! — Valentina Mikhailovna exclaimed. — I understand my mistakes. Please forgive me. I want so much to be a grandmother…
— But at the first attempt to tell me how to live—everything ends forever, — Alice warned.
— I understand. I promise.
Their son was born in March. They named him Maxim. Valentina Mikhailovna came to the maternity hospital with a huge bouquet and baby things. She carefully took her grandson in her arms, and tears ran down her cheeks.
— Thank you, — she whispered to Alice. — Thank you for giving me a chance.
From then on, the mother-in-law really did change. She came only by invitation, helped with the baby when asked, and never imposed her opinion. She learned to be grateful for every meeting with her grandson, for every chance to be near her son’s family.
Sometimes, watching how carefully and tenderly Valentina Mikhailovna handled Maxim, Alice thought that people really can change. The main thing is to make them understand the boundaries and not allow those boundaries to be crossed.
And Anton often told his wife that he was proud of her strength of spirit and the way she managed to set everything right without destroying the family completely.
— You taught my mother to respect you, — he would say. — She’s become better.
— She just realized she could lose more than she could gain, — Alice replied, rocking their son. — Sometimes people need a good lesson to remind them of their humanity.
And when in the evenings they sat together—the three of them, she, Anton, and little Maxim—in the living room of their cozy home, Alice knew she had made the right choice. Sometimes you have to be tough to build healthy relationships. And sometimes people really do deserve a second chance—if they’re ready to change for real.