— There’s dust on the shelves again. — Valentina Petrovna ran her finger over the dresser and grimaced with disgust.
I stood frozen by the sink, towel in hand. This was already the third day in a row she had burst into our home without warning, as if inspecting a candidate for the perfect daughter-in-law, not visiting as a guest.
Andrey had left for his shift just a week ago, and his mother had already turned my life into hell.
— I wiped it down yesterday, — I tried to justify, but my voice betrayed me and cracked.
— Yesterday?! — she mocked. — A decent woman cleans every day! My son deserves order!
She paced around the room like an inspector, eyes snagging on every little thing: a glass ring on the table, a crumpled pillow, a newspaper on the sofa.
— Katya, do you even understand that a man comes home tired? — she suddenly turned to me sharply. — And here’s such a mess… No wonder Andryusha lives on shifts more often now — anyone would run away from a life like this.
Her words burned deeper than blows. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. How could I explain that we were preparing to renovate the nursery? That he left to earn money for our shared dream? She didn’t care.
— What’s this? — Valentina Petrovna grabbed the wedding album from the table. — Even this is covered in dust!
— Please, don’t touch it! — I blurted out.
But it was too late. She had already started flipping through the pages, curling her lips in disdain.
— Look at yourself, how happy you were, — her voice dripped with venom. — You thought once you got married, you could relax? Got an apartment, a rich husband?
— Valentina Petrovna, give me the album.
— Doesn’t it hurt to look? — she ripped a page. — Here you are in a white dress, all clean. And now? Look at you — messy, the house is neglected!
The sound of tearing paper was like a gunshot. The photo of our first dance tore into two pieces.
— What are you doing?! — I rushed at her, but she stepped back and continued tearing pages.
— I’m teaching you order! — she threw the scraps on the floor. — No need to remember the past when the present is drowning in filth!
Pages fell like autumn leaves. Our smiles, vows, the guests’ faces — all becoming trash under her hands.
— Enough! — I grabbed the album back, but Valentina Petrovna shoved me away.
— Your tears collect dust faster than a rag! — she hissed through clenched teeth, tearing the last pages. — Maybe this way you’ll learn to be a real mistress!
I sank to my knees, gathering the scraps. Here — his hand, there — my gaze, further on — our intertwined fingers. Tears dripped onto the paper, blurring memories.
— So, satisfied? — I looked up, still clutching the fragments of our story.
— I’ll be satisfied when you become worthy of my son, — she replied coldly, brushing dust from her hands. — For now, you’re just a village adventurer who got lucky.
Something inside me broke. Three years of effort, three years trying to please, to seem better, to become “worthy.” And now — ashes instead of joy, dust instead of love.
— You know what? — I slowly stood up. — I don’t care about your opinion anymore.
— What?! — she flushed red. — How dare you?!
— I dare. This is my home. My family. And my husband, who loves me just the way I am.
— He just feels sorry for you! — she spat. — You think he doesn’t see he got involved with a slob? Wait until he comes back from the shift — I’ll tell him everything!
— Go ahead, — I calmly stepped toward her. — Tell him how you came without asking. How you humiliated his wife. How you destroyed our wedding album.
Valentina Petrovna stepped back.
— Don’t you dare threaten me!
— This isn’t a threat. It’s protecting my family. From you.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Andrey! I pulled it out with trembling hands.
“Hi, sunshine. How’s it there? Is Mom bothering you?”
My mother-in-law noticed the screen and reached for the phone:
— Give it here! I’ll talk to him myself!
— No, — I stepped back and quickly typed: “Your mother just tore up our wedding album. I can’t take it anymore.”
The reply came almost immediately: “What?! Turn it loud!”
I pressed the button. His voice sounded:
— Mom, where are you?
— Andryushenka! — Valentina Petrovna’s voice instantly became sweet. — I just dropped by to check on you…
— Mom, Katya says you tore up our album. Is it true?
Pause.
— I just… There was so much dust…
— Mom! — Andrey yelled so loud I flinched. — Is it true or not?!
— Well… it kind of happened by accident…
— By accident?! You accidentally tore up the album?! Mom, are you out of your mind? — His voice was harsher than ever.
I’d never heard him speak to his mother like that. Valentina Petrovna involuntarily shrank.
— I meant well… She’s completely neglected the house…
— It’s our home! — Andrey interrupted. — Ours, do you understand? Not yours! And Katya is my wife, not your servant!
— But Andryusha…
— That’s enough, Mom. Pack up and leave. Leave the keys on the table.
— What keys? — she whispered, paling.
— The keys to our apartment. The ones I gave you just in case, not for you to turn my wife’s life into hell!
— You… you can’t do that! — Valentina Petrovna gasped in outrage. — I am your mother!
— And that’s the only reason I’m still talking to you calmly, — Andrey’s voice turned cold as ice. — Keys. On the table. Now.
Mother-in-law slowly pulled a keyring out of her purse. Her fingers trembled as she placed them on the coffee table — the very same one marked by a tea ring.
— Katyush, are you there? — my husband asked me.
— Yes, — I coughed, trying to compose myself. — I’m here.
— I’m sorry, sunshine. I should have foreseen this… God, our album… We picked it out together…
— It’s okay, — I watched Valentina Petrovna getting ready to leave. — We have digital copies. We’ll make a new one.
— We definitely will. Mom, are you still listening?
— Yes, — she muttered.
— Remember: no more visits without invitation. No criticizing my wife. No interfering in our lives. Got it?
Silence.
— Mom! Got it?!
— Got it, — she whispered.
— Good. Katya will see you out.
I walked to the door and opened it wide. Valentina Petrovna slowly shuffled toward the exit, but turned at the threshold.
— You turned him against me, — she hissed.
— No, — I shook my head. — You did that yourself. With your own hands. Just like you tore up our album.
She wanted to say something, but I closed the door, locked it, and leaned back against it, taking a deep breath.
— Katya? — Andrey’s voice came again through the phone. — Is she gone?
— Gone.
— How are you?
I looked down at the floor covered with scraps of memories. One small piece of a photo lay a little apart — Andrey, in his wedding suit, happy and loving.
— You know, — I lifted the fragment, — I think for the first time in a long time, I’m really okay.
— I love you.
— I love you too.
— Listen, I have an idea, — his voice warmed. — When I get back, let’s do a new wedding photo shoot. Just the two of us, no fuss, no extra eyes. How does that sound?
For the first time this week, I smiled.
— I think it’s a great idea.
— And one more thing, Katya… No more uninvited visits. I promise. If Mom wants to see you — only in a neutral place and only if you agree.
— Thank you.
— Thank me. For putting up with it. Sorry I didn’t protect you sooner.
I carefully gathered the photo scraps into a box. I didn’t throw them away — I kept them as a reminder.
Of the day I finally stood up for myself. And that some boundaries are worth more than any torn photos.
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