Crystal chimed merrily, the guests were smiling, and Maria couldn’t take her eyes off her husband. Dmitry—now officially her husband—was beaming with happiness. The wedding had gone beautifully: a cozy restaurant decorated with fresh flowers, their favorite people all around, and most importantly—they were together, despite everything.
“Cheers to the newlyweds!” the toastmaster proclaimed yet again, and the guests raised their glasses in unison.
All except Galina Petrovna. Dmitry’s mother sat across from the couple with the look of someone who had swallowed a lemon whole. Her thin lips compressed into a tight line; her eyes shot invisible daggers. Maria tried not to pay attention. Three years with Dima had trained her to endure his mother’s chill.
“Marinochka, sunshine, happiness to you both!” Dmitry’s aunt, Irina, hugged the bride. “Take care of each other.”
“Thank you, Irina Vladimirovna,” Maria smiled.
“What do you mean ‘Irina Vladimirovna’? Irina! We’re family now!”
Galina Petrovna snorted so loudly several guests turned their heads.
“Is something wrong, Mom?” Dmitry asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Galina hissed. “A wonderful wedding. Economical.”
Maria felt Dima tense. The hand at her waist turned hard.
“Mom, we’ve been over this.”
“Of course we have!” Galina suddenly exclaimed, rising to her feet. “We’ve discussed plenty! But who listened to me?”
The hall fell quiet. The music kept playing, but conversations died. All eyes fixed on the groom’s mother.
“Galya, sit down,” Irina said quietly. “Not now.”
“When then?” Galina’s voice trembled. “When my son is up to his ears in debt because of this… this…”
“Mom!” Dmitry stood up.
“What ‘Mom’? You think I don’t see? She chose you because you’re kind! Because you’re manageable! Because you have an apartment in the center!”
A lump rose in Maria’s throat. Her cheeks burned with shame and hurt.
“Do you even know that her mother called me and asked what your income is?” Galina swept her gaze over the shocked guests. “She asked point-blank whether Dima could support her precious daughter!”
“That’s not true!” Maria’s mother jumped to her feet. “I never…”
“Why are you all sitting here smiling?” Galina barreled on. “This isn’t a wedding, it’s a farce! My son deserves better! Not this—”
A crystal glass shattered on the floor. A little girl—Dmitry’s niece—burst into frightened tears.
“Mom, stop it right now!” Dmitry slammed his fist on the table, making the silverware jump. “Enough!”
“I’ll stop when you finally open your eyes! Look at her family—they’re all just waiting for you to start supporting them!”
Maria’s father, usually calm and reasonable, rose slowly.
“Galina Petrovna, I understand your worries for your son. But I won’t allow you to insult my family.”
“Such big words!” Galina threw up her hands theatrically. “And who’s going to buy my son a new car? Or do you think I didn’t hear your conversations with your wife?”
Tears pricked Maria’s eyes. The festive day she’d dreamed of had turned into a real nightmare.
“Mom, why are you doing this?” Dmitry said quietly. “Why ruin everything?”
“I’m ruining it? I’m trying to save you!” Galina grabbed her handbag. “And you… you’re ungrateful! I raised you, lost sleep over you, did everything for you.”
Aunt Irina stood abruptly and walked over to Galina.
“That’s enough, Galya, end the theatrics. You’ve crossed every line.”
“And you too?” Galina spun toward her. “Of course, everyone’s against me!”
“No one’s against you,” Dmitry said wearily. “We just want to be happy.”
“With her?” Galina pointed at Maria. “She’ll start nagging you in a month! They’re all like that!”
Maria couldn’t hold it in any longer. Years of swallowing barbs, trying to please, bending over backward—all of it burst out.
“You know what, Galina Petrovna?” Her voice was unexpectedly steady. “I’ve put up with your jabs for three years. Three years I tried to find a way to you. And you know what I realized? You don’t want a daughter-in-law. You want property.”
The room went utterly silent. Even the music seemed to hush.
“Dima isn’t a thing,” Maria went on. “He’s an adult who made his choice. And if you truly love him, you should respect that choice.”
“How dare you tell me what to do?” Galina flushed crimson. “Who do you think you are?”
“She’s my wife, Mom,” Dmitry said firmly. “And if you can’t respect her, it’s better if you leave.”
Galina stared at her son in shock, then looked around at the frozen guests.
“So that’s how it is? You choose her?”
“I choose us, Mom. Our family. And I really want you to be part of it. But not on those terms.”
Galina pressed her lips together, spun on her heel, and headed for the exit. At the door she turned back.
“You’ll remember my words,” she threw over her shoulder and left, slamming the door.
The silence stretched on for what felt like forever. Then Maria’s mother began to cry; Irina went to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Someone coughed awkwardly.
“I’m sorry,” Dmitry said to everyone. “I didn’t think it would turn out like this.”
“Dima, it’s not your fault,” Maria squeezed his hand. “No one’s at fault.”
The toastmaster snapped into action:
“And now, dear guests, let’s dance! Musicians, light it up!”
The music blared, but the festive mood was gone for good. Some guests went to the dance floor; others clustered in little groups, whispering and occasionally casting sympathetic glances at the newlyweds. Maria tried to smile, but inside everything tightened with hurt.
“Let’s step outside,” Dmitry whispered, and they slipped quietly onto the restaurant terrace.
The evening air cooled Maria’s burning cheeks. She took a deep breath.
“Forgive me,” Dmitry hugged her. “I should have foreseen this.”
“Stop it. How could anyone predict that?”
“You can. I know my mother.”
They stood watching the city lights, holding each other.
“What happens now?” Maria asked.
“I don’t know. But I won’t let her intrude on our life.”
The terrace door creaked, and Irina came out to them.
“How are you, you two?”
“I’ve been better,” Dmitry grimaced.
“Listen,” Irina put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Galya… she’s complicated. When your father left, Dima, she was alone with a little child. She gave her whole life to you.”
“That doesn’t justify…”
“Of course not,” Irina cut him off. “I’m not defending her. I’m explaining. She’s scared, you understand? Afraid of being completely alone.”
“And I’m not scared?” Dmitry’s voice wavered. “I’m not scared of choosing between my mother and my wife?”
Maria started. It was the first time Dima had spoken so openly about his feelings.
“I’ll talk to her,” Irina said. “And you two go back to your guests. It’s your day—don’t let it be ruined.”
When they returned to the hall, Maria’s father came up to them.
“Kids, I wanted to say…” he hesitated. “Your mother and I are very glad you’re part of the family, Dima. And we never… we never thought of you as… a wallet.”
“I know, Sergei Ivanovich,” Dmitry nodded. “Please don’t worry.”
“And one more thing,” Maria’s father straightened his shoulders. “If you need help—any help—we’re here. You’re not alone.”
Maria hugged her father, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Thank you, Dad.”
The evening went on. The guests gradually relaxed, and even the newlyweds managed to forget the scandal for a while. They danced, listened to toasts, cut the cake. But something had cracked inside, and Maria understood: this day would be remembered not only as the start of family life, but also as the moment of a painful choice.
[Image]
Later, in the car on the way home, Dmitry received a message from Irina: “Galya is home. I took her. Don’t worry, get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“What are you feeling?” Maria asked, looking at her husband.
“Empty,” he didn’t lie. “And you?”
“Anger. Disappointment. Fear.”
“Fear?”
“Yes. That this is just the beginning.”
The three days after the wedding blurred into a fog. Dmitry didn’t call his mother; she stayed silent as well. Maria saw her husband tormented by an inner struggle, but she didn’t push him.
On Wednesday evening they were having dinner in the kitchen. Suddenly Dima’s phone rang. He looked at the screen and froze.
“Mom,” he mouthed.
Maria nodded and left the kitchen. She didn’t want her presence to sway his decision.
“Hello,” she heard his voice from the hallway. “Yes… No, everything’s fine…”
Maria turned on the water in the bathroom so she wouldn’t hear the conversation. When she came back, she found Dmitry looking bewildered.
“What happened?” she asked, sitting down beside him.
“Mom was crying,” he rubbed his eyes. “She says no one comes to see her. Aunt Ira is ignoring her, Uncle Kolya too. Everyone’s turned their back on her.”
“And what did you say?”
“That I need to think.”
Maria hugged her husband. She didn’t know what to advise. On the one hand, she felt sorry for her mother-in-law—no one deserves loneliness. On the other, the scene from the wedding was still vivid in her mind.
“You know,” Dmitry said suddenly, “I’ve never heard Mom ask for forgiveness. Not once in my life.”
“And now?”
“Now she did. She wants to meet. With both of us.”
Maria tensed. Meeting Galina Petrovna now felt like torture.
“What do you think?” Dmitry asked. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to go.”
“No,” Maria shook her head. “We have to. Otherwise it’ll only get worse.”
They met in a café. Galina Petrovna looked worn out. Maria was the first to say hello.
“Thank you for coming,” the mother said.
They sat. The waitress took their order and left. No one dared to begin.
“I…” Galina and Dmitry started at the same time, then both fell silent.
“You go ahead, Mom,” Dmitry nodded.
“I want to apologize,” Galina smoothed the napkin on the table. “To both of you. What I did at the wedding… it’s unforgivable.”
“Why, Mom?” pain sounded in Dmitry’s voice. “Why did you do it?”
Galina raised tear-filled eyes.
“I was afraid of losing you,” her voice shook. “Afraid you’d leave me. Forget me. And instead of letting you go with love, I ruined everything.”
“You won’t lose Dima,” Maria said. “He loves you.”
“And I tried so hard to push you away,” Galina gave a bitter little smile. “You know, these three days I thought a lot. About myself, about my son, about my life. And I realized something frightening—I turned motherly love into shackles.”
“Mom…”
“No, let me finish,” Galina wiped away a tear. “When your father left, I decided never to let anyone hurt me again. And I clung to you so tightly I almost strangled you. Forgive me. And you, Maria, forgive me. I treated you unfairly.”
Maria hadn’t expected such honesty. She’d thought Galina would wriggle out of it, maybe even blame them. But her mother-in-law spoke like someone who had truly understood her mistake.
“Galina Petrovna, I—”
“Galya,” the older woman interrupted gently. “Just call me Galya. If you want to, of course.”
“Galya,” the name sounded strange on Maria’s tongue. “I want to apologize too. I saw how worried you were, but I couldn’t find the key to you.”
“No, dear, that’s not your fault.”
Dmitry looked at them both with amazement and hope.
“You know, Mom,” he said, “I was so afraid of this conversation. I thought it would only get worse.”
“Did it get better?”
“Much,” he smiled. “I think we can start over. The three of us.”
“I’d like that,” Galina looked at Maria uncertainly. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Maria nodded. “On one condition.”
“What condition?”
“Trust and respect. On both sides.”
“Agreed,” Galina reached across the table, and Maria shook her hand.
They spent almost three hours in the café. They talked about everything. The wedding, the future. Dmitry’s and Maria’s work. Galina told funny stories from her son’s childhood. Maria shared her fears and dreams.
When they said goodbye, Galina suddenly hugged her daughter-in-law.
“Thank you for not pushing me away,” she whispered. “Not everyone could.”
“We’re family,” Maria answered simply. “Families fight—and then they make up.”
On the way home, Dmitry held Maria’s hand tight.
“Do you know what happened today?” he asked.
“What?”
“We became a real family. With all the problems, the quarrels, and the reconciliations.”
Maria smiled. Three days earlier she’d thought their marriage was starting with a catastrophe. Now she understood—it had been a test. And they’d passed it.
“By the way,” Dmitry stopped. “Mom asked if she could come over for dinner on Sunday.”
“What did you say?”
“That we’d think about it,” he looked at his wife. “So… what do you think?”
“Tell her we’ll be expecting her,” Maria smiled. “And that I’ll bake her favorite apple pie.”
Dmitry raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“How do you know about the apple pie?”
“Irina told me—back at the wedding. I remembered.”
Dmitry shook his head and laughed.
“That’s why I love you. You know how to forgive.”
“No,” Maria said seriously. “I just know the value of family. And I’m ready to fight for it.”
They walked on, hand in hand, toward their new life—complicated, but real