— Well then, dear daughter-in-law. Listen here, girl. You can think whatever you like about me, but you still won’t be able to prove anything. You don’t have any witnesses, and Yegor believes me. So if you want to stay in our family, you’ll have to accept it: clean my place, cook for me, and keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?
Marina married Yegor a few years ago. They had a son, Anton, who is now six. Both Marina and Yegor worked, trying to keep their heads above water so the family had everything they needed.
They lived modestly but in harmony: Marina took care of the home and their son and worked as a bookkeeper for a small firm, while Yegor was an engineer. Everything seemed to be going the right way.
But then Yegor’s mother, Anna Andreyevna, was diagnosed with ischemic heart disease, which required long-term treatment, special care, and a gentle regimen. She had to take a leave from work, and from then on she was completely dependent on her son for support.
Marina did her best to help her mother-in-law: after work she would stop by with bags full of groceries, cook soups and broths. Sometimes she took Anton along, because there was simply no one to leave him with in the evenings. On other days, Yegor would go to his mother himself.
At first, all of this felt natural and right. But gradually the strain began to grow. Money was draining away faster than before: medications, procedures, special foods. Yegor quietly diverted part of his salary to his mother, and Marina understood that. But soon she began to notice that there wasn’t enough left for their own needs. And Yegor didn’t see any problem with that.
Anton needed new sneakers, his after-school club raised its fees, then the washing machine broke. It felt like everything was against them. Marina had long needed a new warm coat—she’d worn the old one for over five years. But instead, she increasingly heard from her husband:
“Be patient. The main thing right now is Mom.”
And Marina didn’t argue; she understood that health comes first. But inside, a heaviness appeared more and more often. She couldn’t grasp how long this would go on and how their lives would change.
Then one day, when Marina had a shortened workday before a holiday, she heard something from her mother-in-law that shocked her.
Marina received a bonus that day. Not a huge sum, but a pleasant amount she hadn’t counted on. She was already imagining how, in the evening, she and Yegor would put Anton to bed, pour wine into glasses, set out some good cheese, fruit, and cold cuts—and just sit together like they used to, before the constant fatigue and endless worries.
With those thoughts, she went into a store, picked up fresh vegetables, herbs, and milk. She decided, “I’ll drop this off at my mother-in-law’s, and then go straight home to get ready for our evening.”
She had a key to Anna Andreyevna’s apartment—just in case. So Marina opened the door without hesitation and went inside. A voice was coming from the kitchen. At first she thought it was the TV, but as she drew closer, Marina froze.
Anna Andreyevna was standing by the cracked-open window, a cigarette in her hand, lazily blowing smoke outside. She had a phone in her other hand.
“Of course I’ll keep pretending for a long time,” she said hoarsely into the receiver. “So what? My son helps me, my daughter-in-law tiptoes around me. I’d never turn down that. Not for any pastries. Thank you, Valya, for getting me that certificate.”
Marina’s head spun. The words struck her in the chest. She staggered, bumped her back against the doorframe, and the grocery bag slipped from her hands. Tomatoes and apples rolled across the floor.
Anna Andreyevna spun around.
“Marina… wait! I can explain!” she shouted, hurrying after her daughter-in-law.
But Marina had already rushed out the door and was practically flying down the stairs. She didn’t even notice how she reached the nearest bus stop.
She certainly didn’t buy any wine on the way home. She just walked, not really seeing where she was going, with a weight in her chest and her mind blank. Only one thought kept circling: “A whole year… a whole year she deceived us. Was there even an illness at all?”
That evening, when Anton finally fell asleep after his bedtime story, Marina called Yegor into the kitchen. He was surprised—usually his wife collapsed from exhaustion at that hour—but something about her behavior was different tonight.
“Yegor,” she said, “we need to talk.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s about your mother.”
“You’re going on about money again. We have enough. You just want too much. In fact, you know what I was thinking… why do you even need to work? Stay home and take care of my mother.”
“Take care of your mother? Are you aware that Anna Andreyevna feels just fine? Maybe she was never sick at all?” Marina burst out, no longer able to hold herself back.
“What are you making up now?”
“I’m not making anything up. Your mother is. I stopped by today, and she was standing there smoking out the window, and on the phone with some Valya, saying how lucky she was that Valya got her the doctor’s note.”
Yegor fell silent, unable to believe his wife’s words.
“Hold on. That can’t be. Valya is Mom’s friend. She works at the hospital…”
“My point exactly…”
Yegor grabbed his head in his hands.
“Of course I can’t not believe you… And what would you gain by lying? But Mom… she couldn’t have used us like that.”
“Apparently, she could,” Marina shrugged. “And as for money, we managed because my father sent me transfers every week. Where did you think Anton’s new fall jacket came from?”
Yegor said nothing, his breathing quickening. He realized he was losing control of the situation.
“I’ll go to my mother myself tomorrow and get to the bottom of this.”
“Go, just don’t call ahead or tell her you’re coming.”
“Why?”
“So she doesn’t have time to cover her tracks.”
With that, Marina got up from the table and went to the bathroom.
The next day at work, Yegor was on pins and needles. His thoughts were tangled: his wife’s words, his mother’s image, memories of medical notes. He kept checking the time until he finally decided to dash out during lunch and go to Anna Andreyevna’s.
Opening the door with his own key, he saw the usual picture: the apartment was clean, a vase of fresh flowers on the table, no tobacco smell, no trace of smoking.
His mother sat in the kitchen. Tired, dim-eyed, with dark circles under her eyes. She barely raised her head to her son and forced out:
“The dreams were bad again last night. I barely made it to morning. I can’t swallow a bite; everything feels like it gets stuck in my throat.”
Her voice sounded so plaintive and strained that Yegor felt himself wavering inside: was this real, or an act?
He carefully looked around the room—everything was spotless. “Maybe Marina really was mistaken?” flashed through his mind.
“All right, Mom, let’s get you to take your meds now. Then lie down and rest,” Yegor said quietly, pretending to accept it. He put the groceries he’d brought into the fridge and checked that her medications were within reach.
“I’ll stop by again this evening.”
And he hurried back to work, as if running from his own doubts.
For the next week, Yegor wasn’t himself. At work he got mixed up in drawings; at home he caught Marina’s wary glances and found no words. He didn’t know whom to believe: his wife, who had no reason to invent such a thing, or his mother—who looked tired and ill, but… everything lined up a little too neatly.
Meanwhile Marina firmly decided she would no longer go to her mother-in-law’s. The moment she had heard with her own ears was still too fresh. And Anna Andreyevna took advantage of this: at every call or visit from Yegor, she found a way to complain about her daughter-in-law:
“Your Marina is completely out of line. She has no conscience. How could she abandon her husband’s mother to fend for herself?!”
Yegor kept silent and listened. But inside, a dull anxiety was growing: as if he were standing between two chasms and didn’t know which one he would fall into first.
Marina still had to go to her mother-in-law—Yegor left on a business trip for a whole week, and it seemed risky to leave Anna Andreyevna without any check-ins. But Marina had no intention of cooking borscht and cutlets like before. She just bought medicine at the pharmacy, stopped by the store for milk and bread, and decided to do a bit of light tidying.
Anna Andreyevna greeted her with the look of someone who had been waiting for this moment. She sat in the kitchen, crossed her arms over her chest, and said coldly:
“Well then, dear daughter-in-law. Listen here, girl. You can think whatever you like about me, but you still won’t be able to prove anything. You don’t have any witnesses, and Yegor believes me. So if you want to stay in our family, you’ll have to accept it: clean my place, cook for me, and keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?”
Marina stood there with the bag in her hands, feeling her chest tighten with rage. But she didn’t let it turn into a fight. She only nodded as if she agreed and set the bag on the table.
“I understand,” she said calmly, and headed for the door.
Anna Andreyevna gave a satisfied snort, thinking she’d won. But as soon as Marina stepped out of the apartment, she took out her phone and forwarded Yegor an audio recording of their conversation—the recorder she had switched on beforehand had captured everything.
That evening, when Yegor received the message and listened to the recording, he sat in his hotel room unable to pull himself together. His mother’s voice was clear. Manipulation, pressure, an open admission—everything was right there, undeniable.
He covered his face with his hands and kept repeating the same thing:
“How could you… Mom… why?”
For the first time in all this, Yegor felt the ground give way beneath him. Now he knew the truth—his mother was not the victim he had believed. And what horrified him most was that all this time it was his wife who had been honest and patient, while he doubted her.
Yegor didn’t call his mother. The recording was too heavy; it contained too much he hadn’t wanted to know. He decided this conversation had to be face to face.
When he returned from the business trip, he didn’t even go home; he went straight to Anna Andreyevna’s with his suitcase in hand.
The door opened almost instantly. His mother greeted him joyfully, eyes shining:
“Son! You’re finally back! I missed you so much!” She rushed to him, hugged him, kissed his cheek. “Come in, sit down, I’ll put the kettle on…”
Yegor stood in the hallway, not moving. His mother’s joy rang with something false. He took a deep breath and said evenly:
“Mom, hold off on the tea. We need to talk.”
Anna Andreyevna turned; a shadow of wariness flashed across her face, but she quickly composed herself:
“About what that’s so serious? You sound like something happened.”
Yegor took off his jacket, set the suitcase by the wall, and looked her straight in the eye:
“Something did. You lied to me and Marina for a whole year. You pretended to be sick, drained money from us, and staged scenes.”
His mother’s smile froze.
“What are you saying?” she snapped, fixing him with a stern look. “How can you talk like that to your own mother?”
“I heard it with my own ears, Mom. A recording of your conversation with Marina on Wednesday, when she came over.”
Anna Andreyevna paled, then straightened abruptly and folded her arms.
“Oh, I see. Your Marina whispered all this to you. She’s always wanted to make me look bad. Jealous little thing. Well, know this—she’s only hurting herself.”
“No,” Yegor cut in. “That’s your voice on the recording. You said it yourself. There’s no point denying it.”
His mother went still. For a few seconds, the apartment was silent. Then she exhaled angrily:
“So what? Yes, I was tired of working. Yes, I wanted to be taken care of. You’re my son; you’re obliged to help me. I raised you for so many years, and your father… where was he? And your Marina… I never liked her!”
Yegor stepped closer.
“Helping—yes. But lying, manipulating, making fools of us—no. That’s a betrayal, Mom. And worst of all, you tried to wreck my marriage. And don’t start about Dad. He always helped us, gave us money. We didn’t lack for anything.”
Anna Andreyevna flared up:
“I was saving you from that upstart!”
“Enough!” he interrupted. “She’s my wife. The mother of my son. And you know what’s scariest? That she turned out to be the honest, loyal one—while I doubted her because of you.”
The woman lowered her eyes, and for the first time something like confusion flickered there.
Yegor picked up his jacket and suitcase.
“Marina won’t be coming here anymore, and you won’t dare reproach her for it. If you try to meddle in our life again, we’ll simply stop communicating.”
He opened the door and added quietly but firmly:
“Think about whom you’ve lost because of your schemes.”
Without waiting for an answer, he left, leaving Anna Andreyevna alone in the silence of her pristinely clean apartment.
Yegor came home late that evening. In his hands he held a large bouquet of scarlet roses—Marina’s longtime favorite. He stopped on the threshold and, like a schoolboy, said uncertainly:
“Forgive me…”
Marina stood in the hallway, exhausted after work and chores. She wasn’t expecting flowers or pretty words. That made the ache in her heart sharper.
“Yegor…” was all she could manage.
He set the suitcase aside, handed her the flowers, and added:
“You were right from the start. I was a fool not to believe you immediately. It hurts to admit it, but… I had to hear it all from Mom herself. The recording, your words—everything turned out to be true. Thank you for holding on and not staying silent.”
Marina silently took the roses. Tears welled in her eyes—not so much from hurt as from the fact that her husband had finally taken her side.
From then on, life in their family changed. Marina no longer went to her mother-in-law’s, and Yegor supported her decision. He still visited Anna Andreyevna occasionally—but without the old blind devotion. He helped only as needed: medicines, small purchases.
Soon the woman had to return to work—though not at her previous pace. She realized she had lost her son’s support in its old form for good. Anton rarely saw his grandmother. And she didn’t seem to try: no calls, no attempts to visit, no desire to spend time with her grandson. Just the occasional dry, “Say hello to the boy for me.”
If Marina sometimes felt bitter about that, Yegor, looking at the family he had nearly lost, only held his wife and son closer. He understood a simple truth: a real family is made of those who are honest and loyal—not those who keep you near through deceit and pity.