So I’m supposed to congratulate your mother on every holiday and give her expensive gifts, while you can’t even send my mother a message to wish her well?

by

— Egor, don’t forget—my mom’s birthday is tomorrow. He waved her off without taking his eyes from the laptop screen, where graphs and tables flickered. The gesture wasn’t so much rude as automatic, like someone swatting away a pesky fly. — Nastya, I remember everything. Don’t start. I told you—I remember. She kept quiet, pretending … Read more

“Your ‘beauty’ can celebrate her birthday without you—go and meet little Yulia!” she heard her mother-in-law say, and she was stunned…

by

While tidying up the entryway, Milana heard her mother-in-law’s voice and looked out the window. Her husband was sitting on the front steps, talking to his mother over a video call. Milana went back to sorting the shoes, deciding not to eavesdrop, but Nina Yevgenyevna was speaking loudly enough that it was impossible not to … Read more

— “My grandma is coming to stay with us… for a couple of weeks,” Kostya forced out, and Rita realized that pregnancy and the upcoming birth were nothing compared to the nightmare rolling toward them.

by

— “My grandma’s coming to stay with us… for a couple of weeks,” Kostya managed, and Rita realized that pregnancy and the upcoming birth were nothing compared to the nightmare rolling their way. Svetlana Ivanovna, her husband’s grandmother, looked lively and energetic at sixty-five. It seemed she had more energy than all the young people … Read more

The mother-in-law didn’t invite her daughter-in-law on the family trip—and five days later she regretted it

by

Lyudmila Sergeyevna checked the hotel reservation for the third time that morning. Everything matched: rooms for seven days, breakfast included, a pool, the beach two hundred meters away. Perfect! “Petya, have you packed?” she called to her husband from the kitchen. “Relax, Luda! We’ve got three days before we leave,” came the reply from the … Read more

— I know this child isn’t my son’s! So either you tell him yourself, or I’ll tell him everything! And he’ll throw you out of the house for sure!

by

“Drinking plain tea, Ksyusha? Nervous?” Tamara Pavlovna’s voice was sweet like an overripe fruit whose skin already hides rot. She sat at the table in her daughter-in-law’s impeccably clean kitchen and methodically stirred the spoon in her porcelain cup, though the sugar had long since dissolved. That monotonous, scraping sound—scritch, scritch, scritch across the bottom—frayed … Read more

“Your wife is here to take you home,” Elena announced to the man she believed was her fiancé, and looked toward the door.

by

— “What do you mean ‘Elena Vladimirovna’? You’re only twenty-nine!” her friends would remark, chuckling. — “It stuck,” Lena would wave it off. “For clients I’m Elena Vladimirovna; for suppliers—especially. And for colleagues.” Lena was building her business and meant it seriously. So at work the tone was businesslike, with no chumminess. — “Come on, … Read more

Olga came to the village, to her long-abandoned nest, to visit her parents. Or rather, their silent marble markers on the hill by the church. To straighten the railing, touch up the little stars, and talk to the wind, which seemed to keep the whisper of their voices.

by

The autumn air in the settlement of Lesnaya Sloboda was thick, sweet, and searingly cold. It smelled of rotting leaves, smoke from stove pipes, and that special, timeless silence that wraps the soul like a good old blanket. Olga had come here, to the nest she’d left long ago, to visit her parents—or rather, their … Read more

— “Mom is moving in with us!” the husband declared.

by

Anna stood at the kitchen window, watching raindrops slowly trickle down the glass. Behind her came the familiar hiss of the frying pan—dinner for two was on the stove. For her and Mikhail. As usual. Like every day for the last eight years of their married life. “Anya, we need to talk,” her husband said, … Read more

That desperate cry rang out over the glassy surface of the river and then died away, almost unheard and uncomprehended, swallowed by heat thick as honey.

by

“Don’t touch me! Let me go! Don’t!” That desperate cry rang out over the river’s smooth surface and died away—heard by almost no one, understood by no one—swallowed up by heat thick as honey. The languid, exhausting swelter pressed the grasses to the ground, silenced the birds, and muffled sound itself, as if brushing aside … Read more