Chapter 1: The Brewing Storm

The air in the small two-room apartment was thick with unspoken tension, a storm about to break. Vera stood by the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching the rain tap gently against the glass. Outside, people hurried past, shoulders hunched against the cold drizzle, unaware of the tempest building inside this otherwise quiet home.

Her husband, Sasha, was bent over the dining table, papers strewn about like battlefield debris. His hands moved with restless energy, sorting through documents that felt more like chains binding them rather than keys to their future.

“Did you talk to your mother about moving again?” Vera asked, voice calm but laced with steel.

Sasha froze, the question landing like a blow. His fingers hesitated over the papers before he continued, as if nothing had happened. “Nothing much. Just asked how she’s managing alone.”

Vera’s eyes narrowed, disbelief simmering beneath her composed exterior. “Don’t make a fool out of me,” she stepped closer, planting her palms firmly on the table to steady herself. “I heard your conversation. You promised her you’d think about it!”

Sasha finally looked up, fatigue and frustration mingling in his gaze. “So what? It’s hard for her alone in the village. The house is old. It’s cold in winter. Remember last year when the roof leaked? How many times I went to fix the stove?”

Vera’s breath hitched, but she fought to keep her voice even. This argument was a refrain she had heard too many times before. “We’ve already discussed this! We have a two-room apartment. Where would she live? The living room? What about our personal space?”

Sasha shrugged, a motion that felt dismissive and careless. “We can put up a partition, zone the space. People live in even more cramped conditions!”

“It’s not just about square meters,” Vera shook her head, frustration boiling over. “Your mother can’t stand me. From the very first day she met me. Remember how she reacted when she heard about our wedding?”

Sasha winced, the memory a fresh wound. Zinaida Ivanovna hadn’t spoken to her son for two weeks back then, and when she finally came to the wedding, her expression was that of someone attending a funeral.

“She’s just old-fashioned,” Sasha tried to justify. “That was five years ago! Now she’s used to it!”

“Used to it?” Vera gave a bitter smile, voice low and sharp. “Were you at that New Year’s party with me? When she called me ‘Lena’ all evening, even though she knows my name perfectly well?”

Sasha’s face tightened. “She just got mixed up…”

“Three times,” Vera cut in. “And each time she ‘accidentally’ mentioned Lena was your ex, the one you dated before me.”

Sasha rubbed his neck awkwardly, having no real defense for that. The examples were countless, and the wounds ran deep.

“Listen, Ver,” Sasha said, his voice softening slightly. “I understand your concerns, but it really is hard for her. You saw how her back hurts after all those years working on the farm. Her heart’s bad. And there’s not even a proper paramedic in the village.”

Vera stepped away from the table and returned to the window, watching the fine rain fall like a curtain between her and the world outside. She knew Sasha’s worry was genuine—his mother was aging, her health declining—but she also knew Zinaida Ivanovna too well to expect harmony under one roof. The woman was a force of nature, and their lives would never be calm with her presence.

Chapter 2: A House Divided

“Maybe we should consider other options?” Vera suggested, turning back to face Sasha. “Rent an apartment closer to us? Or a room?”

Sasha shook his head. “With what money, Ver? We just paid off the mortgage. Besides, it’s not about her being nearby. She can’t fully care for herself anymore.”

“So that means taking care of her?” Vera asked, voice rising. “Sasha, I work full-time. I can’t stay home and look after your mother!”

“Nobody’s asking you to stay home,” he said quickly. “She can do a lot on her own. She’ll just need help sometimes.”

Vera’s irritation flared, her arms crossed tight over her chest. “You know what I think? I think your mother is doing just fine on her own. She’s just bored in the village and wants to control your life—our life!”

“You’re being unfair,” Sasha frowned. “She worked her whole life to raise me—alone, without a father!”

“I know, Sasha! And I respect her for that. But that doesn’t mean she has to live with us!”

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the ticking clock on the wall—a cruel reminder of the time slipping through their fingers. Sasha sighed, walking over to Vera and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Ver, listen,” he said quietly but firmly. “I’ve already decided. I’m going to get her next weekend. She’ll sell the house, and the money will go to our shared life. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

Vera slowly raised her eyes, searching his face. “You’ve already decided? Without me? Without asking my opinion?”

“I know your opinion,” he answered. “But she’s my mother, and I can’t leave her alone.”

Gently, Vera removed his hands from her shoulders and stepped back.

“If you bring your mother to live with us, then I’ll bring my mom too, and then neither you nor your mother will have enough space here.”

Sasha laughed, thinking she was joking.

“Come on, Ver! You know your mother can’t stand me.”

“Exactly,” Vera said coldly. “And your mother can’t stand me either. So it will be fair. Either neither of our mothers live with us, or both do. Your choice.”

“You’re not serious…”

“Absolutely serious,” Vera said, heading for the door. “Think carefully before you put me in front of a fait accompli.”

She left the room, leaving Sasha bewildered and alone with his thoughts. He hadn’t expected such resistance and had no idea what to do. The thought that not only his mother but also his mother-in-law might move in terrified him. Tatyana Alexeyevna, Vera’s mother, had made it clear from their first meeting that she did not approve of Sasha and never missed a chance to show it.

He sank heavily into a chair, wondering if Vera was bluffing. But his mother really did need help.

Chapter 3: A Temporary Truce

Sasha went to the kitchen where Vera was quietly preparing dinner.

“Fine,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “I got you. Let’s postpone this conversation.”

Vera nodded without turning around. She knew Sasha well enough to understand he wasn’t backing down but just buying time. But she wasn’t going to give up either. This was their home, their life, and she would not let her mother-in-law ruin it.

Chapter 4: The Calm Before the Storm

The week passed in a strange, uneasy calm. Sasha stopped mentioning his mother moving in, and Vera pretended to believe his retreat. But the tension remained like a thin crack in glass—waiting for the moment it would shatter everything.

Chapter 5: The First Move

On a chilly Saturday morning, Vera was awakened by the sound of the front door closing.

She reached for her phone—eight a.m., a time Sasha never woke on weekends.

She threw on her robe and went to the kitchen, where she found a note on the table: “Went to help mother with the barn. Will be back tonight.”

Vera crumpled the note and threw it in the trash. She didn’t believe a word.

Sasha was up to something, and she knew it had everything to do with Zinaida Ivanovna moving in.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat by the window, staring out at the gray sky and the relentless drizzle.

Chapter 6: The Past Returns

Vera’s mind drifted back five years, to the day she first met Zinaida Ivanovna. They had traveled to the village to introduce Vera as Sasha’s fiancée. The memory was sharp and vivid.

Zinaida Ivanovna greeted them at the door—a tall, thin woman with tightly pressed lips and eyes that seemed to pierce right through Vera.

“So, this is the city lady you found, Sasha,” she said, her voice cold and sharp. “So pale. Does she even know how to work?”

Throughout the visit, Zinaida Ivanovna pointed out every flaw she could find: Vera’s cooking, her household skills, her mannerisms. Vera tried not to react, understanding that the woman was fiercely defending her territory. But when she began comparing Vera to Sasha’s ex—the “real housekeeper”—her patience snapped.

“If Lena is so wonderful, why did Sasha choose me?” Vera asked, her voice steady but cold.

Zinaida Ivanovna pressed her lips together and silently left the room.

Sasha spent an hour afterward convincing Vera that his mother was just worried.

Chapter 7: The Warning

Vera’s own mother, Tatyana Alexeyevna, was a different story. She welcomed Sasha with a warm smile and a laid table but took Vera aside later.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly. “He’s a good man, but… very impressionable. His mother pulls the strings. Think carefully.”

Tatyana’s words were prophetic.

Over the years, Zinaida Ivanovna’s influence grew stronger. Especially after she was widowed two years ago, losing her second husband to a heart attack.

At last winter’s New Year’s party at the village, Zinaida Ivanovna put on a performance worthy of a stage star—dropping a heavy tray “accidentally,” talking endlessly about her loneliness and fear of dying alone, her desperate longing for grandchildren.

Vera felt the anxiety rise again.

Chapter 8: The Call

She reached for her phone and dialed her mother’s number.

“Mom, hi! Got a minute?”

“Did something happen?” Tatyana’s voice was worried.

“Not yet,” Vera replied, “but it might. Remember when I told you about Sasha’s mother wanting to move in?”

“Of course. Don’t tell me he agreed!”

“Officially no, but… he left early this morning to help her with the barn. I feel like he’s up to something.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I warned him—if he brings his mother, I’ll bring you.”

There was a pause.

“Vera, sweetheart…” finally said Tatyana. “You know this isn’t a solution, right? I’ll come if needed, but…”

“I know, Mom. But he’s backed me into a corner. I don’t know what else to do.”