— Hold it. Stop right there! We’ve been breaking our backs every single weekend, and instead of a seaside vacation we’ve been crawling around in the garden. Max doesn’t even remember what “rest” feels like anymore. And now you’re saying this?
Anya restrained her anger as best she could. She spoke slowly, choosing her words so she wouldn’t snap at her mother-in-law. But this wasn’t a simple talk anymore—it had turned into a full-blown argument. Svetlana Ilyinichna sat across from her, chin lifted proudly, her face twisting into a disdainful grimace.
— Listen here, sweetheart! It’s not for you to decide what my son does and when. He’s helping me—his mother. How dare you reproach him for that?
Anya turned toward the window. At that moment her husband, Maxim, was pushing a wheelbarrow across the yard loaded with junk. He’d been clearing out the piles that had built up over the years in the bathhouse. The building itself was sturdy enough, but no one could actually use it as a bathhouse anymore—because instead of brooms and proper supplies, the steam room was stuffed with who-knew-what.
The bathhouse had become yet another place Max was restoring. On the surface, it didn’t look scandalous: a son helping his mother tidy up the home where he’d grown up. But in their situation, it was nowhere near that simple.
— I don’t mind what my husband is doing. What I do mind is that you’re going to sign your house over to your daughter, not to Maxim!
— And what exactly seems so strange to you about my decision?
— We’ve poured all our money into your dacha. We’re the ones who fixed it up, and you’ve decided to give it to your daughter?! — Anya was outraged to her core.
That day, when Maxim and Anya came to the village yet again—where Svetlana Ilyinichna had been living lately—they learned she had no intention of changing a decision she’d made back when the children were still small: the house would go to her daughter.
— A home needs a good mistress—someone who will truly look after it. And who could take better care of it than my little Marina? — the woman said, stroking her daughter’s hand.
Except that a few minutes later Marina, with her husband Pavel, turned around and drove off—while Maxim kept hauling debris out of the bathhouse. Svetlana Ilyinichna refused to see what was obvious: it was hard to call her daughter a “good homemaker” for their family nest. When Marina did come, it was only to grill shashlik, relax, and sip tea on the veranda. Work? That was never on the agenda.
Maxim, meanwhile, had had no idea about his mother’s “plans” and promises until the very last moment. Every free day he had, he spent in the village, sincerely believing his mother would be fair and that at least half the house would go to him. So he was stunned when he heard she wasn’t going to divide anything at all—she planned to give everything to Marina.
Svetlana Ilyinichna used to live in the city in a small apartment. After her husband died, she moved to the village. It was a modest house where they’d once lived together as a family: the city was close, it was quiet, surrounded by nature. She didn’t want to go back to the apartment, so she rented it out and stayed in the village.
What she hadn’t considered was that a private house demands constant effort—repairs, garden work, a yard that needs tending, and outbuildings on the property that had long since fallen into disrepair. She couldn’t have handled it alone. Maxim ended up spending endless time there, and Anya always helped him. They invested a great deal of money and energy to restore warmth and comfort to the place, turning it into a home the whole family could enjoy.
Now, when Anya learned what her mother-in-law intended, she flew into a rage and couldn’t keep quiet anymore.
— Do you even realize what Max and I have been going through because of you? He’s here all the time, and we haven’t been to my parents’ in… I can’t even remember when we last visited them. And instead of returning kindness with kindness, you’re giving the house to Marina? She hasn’t put in anything—no time, no money! — Anya went on, furious.
— Then you’re not worth much if you don’t take care of your own parents. Unlike you, my son doesn’t abandon me! And what “terrible” things have you endured, exactly? The tiniest problem and you’re already whining. Go ahead—divorce him, and this issue will be closed for good, — her mother-in-law suggested.
— Excuse me, but that is none of your business, — Anya snapped.
— I’ll decide what is and isn’t my business. And I know one thing for sure: Max will always help me! — her mother-in-law said arrogantly.
— And Marina? Is it fair that Maxim has invested so much in a house that will go to her?
— What did I just hear?! Are you trying to teach me a lesson? I’ll handle my children myself, and I certainly won’t consult you about who I leave what to. That’s it! Conversation over! — Svetlana Ilyinichna shouted, turning away from Anya as a sign she would discuss nothing further.
That evening, when Anya and Maxim came home, they couldn’t bring themselves to start talking. While Anya fried potatoes, both of them stayed silent. Ironically, those potatoes were part of the harvest they’d gotten through sheer hard labor—from the very garden they’d been bent over. They’d bought the seeds, planted them, weeded the beds, then dug everything up. And what was especially “interesting” was that Svetlana Ilyinichna, considering herself generous and fair, had divided the harvest evenly: one share for herself, one for Marina’s family, and one for Maxim.
When the frying pan of potatoes was on the table, they stared at the food for a while without touching it.
— So what now? — Anya finally asked.
— What do you mean? — Maxim replied, putting on an exaggeratedly innocent look.
— Are you kidding me? — Anya bristled. — I mean that house. We’ve been working ourselves to the bone there for years. You cleared the overgrowth and put up a new fence, emptied every outbuilding, scrubbed out the pool, replaced all the plumbing and wiring—and don’t even get me started on the garden. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. And what was Marina doing this whole time? And Pavel?
— Anya… they weren’t doing anything, — Max answered with a heavy sigh.
— Exactly. So why should the house go to them, when without you the place would still be a neglected wilderness? Is that fair?
— No, of course not. But Mom doesn’t see it that way.
— Then stop helping her. Let Marina get off the couch for once and do something for the property she’s going to inherit. As for me—I’m not touching a single thing there again!
— I don’t like it either… I just don’t know how to say it to her, — Maxim murmured, head lowered.
Anya realized her husband wouldn’t be able to stand up to his mother, so she took matters into her own hands. The next day she dialed Svetlana Ilyinichna’s number.
— Yes? — her mother-in-law answered coldly and curtly.
— Hello. You probably won’t like what you’re about to hear, but Maxim and I have made a decision, — Anya began in a steady, confident tone.
— Oh, please. I already know what’s crawling around in that silly head of yours. Exactly what I expected.
— This isn’t my opinion—it’s a joint decision. Either the house goes to Maxim, or you can handle everything yourselves from now on, however you like. We’re not going to—
Her mother-in-law cut her off.
— What “we”? My son would never say that to me. This is all you—filling his head with nonsense. Rude little—
— Oh, give it a rest. You know perfectly well Max loves you and doesn’t want to be harsh, that’s why he stays quiet. But you should also understand that anyone’s patience runs out. You don’t want to listen to me? Fine. He’ll tell you himself.
Anya heard the line go dead.
— Is that how it’s going to be? Fine, then, — she thought, putting her phone away.
The next weekend, Maxim and Anya drove to the village as usual. This time, Maxim himself wanted to speak to his mother and put everything on the table.
— Perfect! — Maxim exclaimed when he saw Pavel’s car near the house. — Finally, we’re going to settle this.
After a stiff, dry greeting, they all sat down at the table while Marina poured tea. She had no idea her brother was about to have a serious conversation, so she chirped away cheerfully.
— How are you, Max? How’s work? Honestly, it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other.
— Work’s wonderful. And Anya’s is too. And we’ve got so much money we don’t know where to put it, — Maxim answered with biting sarcasm.
— Oh, son, that can’t be true. Your mother-in-law told me you recently got a raise. Looks like Anya must be a terrible homemaker if you’re still short on money, — Svetlana Ilyinichna said blandly, as if stating a fact.
— Yeah, Max, something doesn’t add up, — Pavel chimed in. — We pay a mortgage, the kids cost a fortune, but we manage.
— Oh, Pashenka, you’re such good ones, — the woman cooed. — And you too, Maximushka, should think about continuing the family line.
— When we decide to have children is our decision, — Anya said evenly. — And as for money, you should ask yourselves where ours goes. Did the new fence build itself? Did someone else buy you a new roof—not Max? Who replaced all the plumbing and electrical wiring? Should I keep listing it, or is it clear where the money we earn is going?
— You just won’t stop! — her mother-in-law snapped. — You can’t stand that my son helps me. Instead of appreciating what you have, all you do is count his money and reach your claws for someone else’s property, — her voice rose higher and higher until she was nearly screaming. — I told you again and again, Maxim, that this greedy egoist isn’t a match for you. It’s probably for the best you don’t have kids. Leave her while you still can! Look at her—she’s trying to pit us against each other, so you won’t live in peace with your mother or your sister.
— Anya isn’t pitting anyone against anyone, — Maxim finally spoke. — On the contrary, she’s supported me and helped me the whole time, while you— — he turned to Marina — you didn’t lift a finger to help Mom.
— And how am I supposed to help? My salary is pennies, I’ve got kids and loans. What can I do?
— Of course. But you can take the house, can’t you? I thought this house would become the place we could always come back to, relax, gather as a family. But you and your husband only complain about life. You want to receive everything and give nothing in return. No one is asking you for money. Pulling weeds doesn’t cost a single cent. But no—you’d rather have everything handed to you. That ends now. Anya and I won’t do anything here anymore. We’ve had enough.
— Max, what are you doing? — Marina said, wounded. — I told Mom right away I wasn’t going to slave away here. And you—you promised you’d get everything in order.
— I did, because I thought I’d have a share here too.
— There! Are you happy now? My children are fighting, and you’re standing aside? You know, son, I didn’t expect this from you. You’re taking the last piece from your own sister.
— No, Mom, I’m not taking anything. But I’m not going to do everything for her either—and drag Anya into it on top of that…
Maxim and Anya stood up and headed toward the door. He turned back.
— You don’t need to thank me for what’s already been done. And by the way—the utility bills are in the top drawer in the kitchen. From now on, that’s not my problem.
Nearly three years passed. In that time Anya and Maxim came to the village only once—to collect their belongings and tools. It was obvious the house now had a different “good caretaker”—or rather, “good mistress.” Everything had slid back to how it used to be: an unkempt yard, the pool water turned green, weeds in the garden taller than a person, and the outbuildings slowly filling up with junk again.
At first Svetlana Ilyinichna tried to manage on her own, but she quickly realized it was impossible. Her pension vanished in no time. No one paid her bills anymore. No one stocked her fridge with groceries every week.
Several times she tried to restore the old relationship with her son, but nothing worked. She pleaded with him to help again, and Maxim always refused—telling her to turn to “wonderful Pavel” and “caring Marina.” Marina and her husband had rarely come to the dacha even before, and now they stopped showing up altogether—which was understandable: it was no longer a place for relaxing, but it demanded lots of labor and money.
At one point Maxim suggested Marina sell the house and split the money: he would take back the amount he had invested, and she could keep the rest. Marina refused, and their mother didn’t want to return to the city either.
So that’s how they live.
Maxim and Anya are comfortable now, expecting their first child.
Marina and Pavel are drowning in debt and everyday problems.
And Svetlana Ilyinichna, never understanding where she went wrong, was left to scrape by alone in the village—often thinking about how unfair life had been to her.