“Elena Andreyevna called Olga over video.
‘Olenka, could you stop by today?’
‘Today?’ Olga glanced at her wristwatch, quickly calculated that she could finish everything on time, and nodded.
‘Of course. I’ll come.’
‘Good. I bought something for you, though I’m afraid I may have guessed the size wrong. If it doesn’t fit, I’ll just return it.’
Olga always appreciated her mother-in-law’s thoughtfulness. Elena Andreyevna often spoiled her with little gifts, and from the very beginning, the two of them had shared a warm, trusting bond. Her husband’s mother had turned out to be kind, understanding, and easy to be around. Olga enjoyed visiting her, helping with the garden and the house whenever she could. She and Vadim lived in the apartment Elena Andreyevna had given her son on his eighteenth birthday. She was a careful, attentive mother in every sense.
After they agreed Olga would come by that evening, she ended the call and smiled dreamily. She really had reason to thank heaven for such a wonderful mother-in-law. So many women spoke about their husbands’ mothers as if they were venomous snakes ready to fight for their precious sons to the very end. But this was different. Elena Andreyevna supported Olga and even took her side whenever she and Vadim had disagreements.
‘What are you smiling about? I honestly don’t get it,’ Antonia Romanovna, Olga’s own mother, said with irritation. ‘Do you really enjoy running to that woman every time she calls?’
‘I don’t see anything wrong with visiting my mother-in-law,’ Olga replied with a shrug, not understanding what had caused such a reaction. ‘She cares about me. That’s all.’
‘Cares about you? Oh, sure. Don’t be naive. That’s not care at all. She’s buttering you up now so she can sit on your neck later and control you. Quietly slip her tentacles into your family, and that will be the end of it. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve lived longer than you. Women like her have a strategy—make you believe they’re sincere. One day you’ll regret letting her get that close. Stop this nonsense and think about yourself and your husband instead. Men like that don’t just lie around waiting in the road. Lose him because of your foolishness, and you’ll cry bitterly later.’
Olga only sighed and shook her head. She trusted her mother-in-law, but she had no desire to argue with her own mother, much less fight with her. What was the point, if both of them would cling to their own opinions anyway? Olga had never known her paternal grandmother, but she had heard enough stories: how the woman had disliked her daughter-in-law, humiliated her whenever possible, and behaved as though she had the right to rule over other people’s lives. Perhaps that bitter experience was why her mother feared Olga would make the same mistake. After all, Antonia Romanovna’s marriage had fallen apart precisely because her husband’s mother kept interfering. That was probably the real wound behind her words.
‘Mom, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’
Antonia Romanovna twisted her lips and claimed she wasn’t worried at all. Maybe Olga had been mistaken—her mother rarely worried about her anyway.
A few months passed after that conversation.
Autumn arrived with startling suddenness. Just yesterday the sun had been shining brightly, the park had been pleasant and warm, and it had felt natural to stroll beneath the trees. But today gusting winds tore the last bright leaves from the branches and howled like a warning that the mistress of this season had arrived. Autumn… cold, merciless, already preparing the world for the first hard frosts. In some places people had time to enjoy autumn. In Siberia, not really. There, autumn barely appeared before it gave way to winter, never allowing anyone to linger over its beauty.
Standing by the window with her arms folded across her chest, Olga smiled at the memory of how her mother-in-law had recently brought her a brand-new jacket, saying that a daughter-in-law should wear only the best.
That memory gave way to another—one she would rather have left buried in the past.
Back then, Olga had been getting ready for graduation. She had worked part-time after classes to save enough money for a beautiful dress. Exhausted but excited, she dreamed of being the prettiest girl among her classmates. She had already chosen the dress. She had even decided where she would get her hair done. But the moment she received her pay, her mother demanded every last coin.
‘A fancy dress for graduation? What a ridiculous idea. You can wear something you already own. It won’t kill you. Your sister, on the other hand, needs new clothes. She goes to an elite academy, not an ordinary school, and she has to look the part.’
Olga respected her mother and never even thought of arguing. She handed over the money and let go of her dream of being the queen of the prom. In the end, she did not go at all, claiming she felt unwell. She could not bear the thought of becoming a target for mockery, of everyone staring at her and remembering her humiliation.
Ella had always received the best of everything, and Olga had grown used to it. As the older sister, she never complained. She was glad her younger sister had everything she needed, that she would receive the best education, that she would have an easier, brighter life. Olga had trained herself to yield, to care for others. But only now, thanks to her husband and his mother, was she beginning to understand what it felt like when someone cared for her.
In the past, she might not have thought much about what had happened. But now she found herself comparing her old life with her present one, and each comparison left a bitter taste. Had her mother ever truly needed her?
She was the daughter of a first marriage, a marriage that had left behind nothing but ugly memories. In moments of anger, Antonia Romanovna would say it disgusted her to look at Olga because the girl reminded her of her father. She often told her that she was just as useless as he was. Olga barely knew her father—he had no real interest in her—but her mother kept comparing them anyway. Ella was different. Ella had grown up with two parents and an older sister. Ella was loved more. She lived wrapped in attention and affection. Sometimes Olga had envied her, seeing how openly and joyfully her sister was loved, but she always stopped herself. This was her sister. She was supposed to care for her, not resent her. Ella had simply been luckier. Her parents loved each other. She had been wanted. Olga, meanwhile, believed she ought to be grateful just for having a roof over her head, food on the table, and the bare essentials. That was the way she had always thought.
As an adult, Olga drifted away from her family, though she still respected the people who had raised her. She barely spoke with her sister anymore because Ella had kept her distance, and Olga had no wish to force herself into her life.
The sudden ringing of her phone startled her out of her thoughts. She looked at the screen. Mom. As if she had sensed Olga had been thinking about her.
‘Hi, Mom,’ Olga said, trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.
‘Hello to you too. You never call first. Am I supposed to run after you now? You could at least come visit. Or do you not care about your mother at all anymore? Have you finally transferred yourself completely to your mother-in-law’s family? Is that your only family now?’
‘Mom, what are you saying? Work has been insane. Today is my first day off in two weeks when no one is pulling me in ten directions. I just woke up. I haven’t even eaten yet.’
Antonia Romanovna muttered something disapproving under her breath, but Olga couldn’t make it out and had no desire to ask. It was probably something hurtful. Better not to hear it at all. Her mother was never careful with words and never considered how much pain careless remarks could cause.
‘Who’s living in your house by the sea right now? Is it free, or are you renting it out?’
At once Olga understood that her mother had not called for no reason. A spark of hurt flared inside her, then died just as quickly. She had probably expected nothing else. She had long grown used to being treated as a convenience. Only now was she fully able to name it: the difference between care and exploitation, love and control.
‘Vadim’s cousin is staying there at the moment. They’ll be there until the end of October, and in November we’re going on vacation ourselves. Why?’
‘No vacation. You can stay home. You’ll survive. Give your seaside house to your sister—she’s decided to have her wedding there,’ her mother announced in a firm, demanding tone.
The sharpness of her voice seemed to ring inside Olga’s ears. It felt as though she had been pierced by a thousand hot needles.
Her sister. Again.
Once more, a decision had already been made, and Olga was expected to sacrifice what was hers.
She almost wanted to laugh, but it would have been hysteria, nothing more. She refused to let her mother hear how badly this was hurting her.
‘You mean… we’re supposed to hand over our house? Our house?’
‘Do you not hear well? Yes, exactly that. Ella decided she wants a wedding by the sea, and then the newlyweds will stay there for a couple of weeks afterward. Their honeymoon matters more than your little trip.’
Olga gripped the phone so tightly the plastic creaked in her hand. Her fingers slipped, and tears welled in her eyes. Denial passed quickly. What replaced it was clarity.
In her own family, she had always been Cinderella—the one kept close only because she was useful.
Need a paper written for Ella? Olga.
Need help with homework? Olga.
Ella wants to go out with friends, so someone has to do all the chores? Olga.
She had always been the scapegoat, the one used whenever necessary and never truly valued.
‘Mom…’ Her voice came out rough. She did not want a fight. But she did want answers. ‘Did you ever love me the way you loved Ella? Even a little less than that? Did you ever worry about me the way you worried about her?’
‘What kind of nonsense are you talking? What does that have to do with anything right now? Call your husband’s cousin and tell them to leave the house. I need to go there earlier myself to clean everything properly and decorate.’
She had avoided the question—but by then the answer was already obvious.
Antonia Romanovna had felt responsible for raising Olga, that much was true. And Olga had also been convenient. Even as an adult, she continued to help the family. Gentle, softhearted, incapable of refusal—that was who she had always been. No one had ever asked what she thought. No one had ever sought her permission. They simply demanded, already confident she would do whatever was required, no matter the cost to herself.
But something inside her had finally cracked, and Olga saw how foolishly blind she had been for years. Vadim had hinted at it before. He had told her more than once that her family used her kindness, urged her not to fulfill every whim they threw her way. It had taken her a long time to accept that he was right.
‘Why did you go silent?’ her mother snapped. ‘Once you settle everything, call me back. I need to plan my time too, and it’s far too valuable to waste on your silence.’
‘Time really is too valuable,’ Olga said bitterly. ‘I won’t be calling you back. And I will not be freeing up that house either. Mom, you need to stop using my kindness. I spent years trying so hard… hoping I could earn at least a drop of motherly love from you, but it was pointless. Once again, you called not to ask, but to demand, as if I owe you. That ends now. I’m done handing my sister everything she wants on a silver platter.’
‘How dare you! Ungrateful girl! Do you know how many nerves I wasted on you? How much money? You never lacked anything. Yes, I admit it—I loved Ella more than I loved you. Your father is to blame. He ruined my life. I couldn’t look at you without remembering what he did to me. But I still raised you!’
She said it as though Olga were the one who had wronged her, and now deserved punishment.
‘And I am grateful that you raised me. But I’m certain I repaid that debt many times over, so there’s no reason to pretend anymore. I will not help Ella or indulge her wishes ever again. You can be offended if you want, but I won’t change my mind. If she wants a seaside wedding, let her pay for it herself and rent a place.’
Antonia Romanovna flew into a rage and declared that Olga would bitterly regret those words, that if she kept behaving like this, she would end up with no family at all.
Olga only smiled sadly.
She had had no real family in the past.
Now, at last, she did.
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, ‘for every lesson you taught me.’
She ended the call and thought that as soon as her husband returned from work, they should go visit her mother-in-law together.
That woman had been genuine. In a short time, she had given Olga what her own mother never had. She had shown her what life looked like among people who truly valued you.
And those were the people Olga wanted to spend her strength, her time, and her heart on now—not those who were connected to her only by blood.”