An Unexpected Visit
Alice Albertovna hadn’t informed her son about her arrival—she wanted to surprise him. Standing in front of his apartment, she confidently inserted her key into the lock, only to find that it didn’t fit.
“Mom?!” Kirill, hearing the rustling at the door, swung it open. He hadn’t expected to see his mother standing there with a suitcase in hand.
“Kirill, my dear! I thought I’d drop by for a visit… But what’s with the lock?”
“We changed it,” he admitted, stepping aside. “You should have called. I would’ve picked you up.” He hugged her warmly, recovering from his initial shock.
“I wanted to surprise you, bring you joy. It’s been too long!”
Kirill nodded, guilt creeping in. In the two years they had lived in different cities, he had not only missed his mother but had also built a new life—one that included a girlfriend, a shared home, and even a marriage. Knowing his mother’s strong personality, he had deliberately kept her out of the loop.
That’s why, when Alice Albertovna noticed a pair of women’s shoes and a colorful jacket in the hallway, her eyebrows shot up.
“Are you hosting guests?” she asked, eyeing the unfamiliar items.
“No,” Kirill replied cautiously.
“Then what’s this?” She lifted the sleeve of a bright pink windbreaker with two fingers, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “Who in the world wears such clownish colors? Is there a circus in town?”
“That would be mine,” came a cheerful voice from the kitchen. A petite redhead appeared, wiping her hands on a towel. “Hello! I’m Nastya.”
Alice Albertovna’s eyes narrowed. “And why, may I ask, didn’t you hire a proper maid? You should have consulted me first.”
Kirill sighed. “Mom, she’s not a maid.”
“Then who is she?”
“My wife.”
Silence filled the room. Alice Albertovna blinked at her son, then let out a sharp laugh.
“Very funny, Kirill. April Fool’s Day was months ago. Don’t joke like that.”
“It’s not a joke,” Kirill said, his voice firm.
Her laughter faded. “Excuse me? When did this happen? And why am I the last to know?”
“We got married recently,” he admitted.
“Oh really? How recently?”
“A year ago.”
This time, her laughter had a slightly hysterical edge. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.
“Well then, if this is serious, why don’t you introduce me to the young woman who now calls herself my son’s wife?”
She handed Kirill her suitcase and strode inside as if inspecting unfamiliar territory. Meanwhile, Nastya, sensing the tension, took the chance to make herself scarce.
“So, a wife,” Alice Albertovna muttered, lowering herself onto a chair. “And how, may I ask, did such an ordinary girl manage to ensnare my son?”
“I’d love to tell you, but I have to run,” Nastya said breezily, placing her empty coffee cup in the sink. She had no interest in battling with her mother-in-law—at least, not today. “Love, I’m off to work! Missing you already.”
She kissed Kirill on the cheek and headed out the door.
Alice Albertovna shivered. Watching her son exchange affectionate goodbyes with a woman she barely knew was almost unbearable.
“Kirill!” she called out. “I’m waiting for you in the kitchen!”
But Kirill grabbed his bag. “I’m actually leaving too…”
“What? Cancel your plans. Your mother is here.”
“I can’t. Work doesn’t wait. Are you staying long?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Am I already a burden?”
“Of course not! I just meant… Maybe you’d be more comfortable at a hotel?”
“Why? I’d rather stay here. Get to know Nastya. Catch up with you.”
Kirill swallowed hard. He was certain his mother and his wife would never get along. But refusing her outright would only escalate things.
“Make yourself at home…” he relented. “If you decide to sleep here, the couch in the kitchen folds out.”
Alice Albertovna scoffed. She had no intention of sleeping in the kitchen. The moment her son left, she marched straight to his bedroom.
Rearranging the House—And the Household
“What a mess!” she muttered, rifling through the closet. “Shirts not ironed, underwear shoved in random drawers—oh my! Hole-ridden socks?!”
Shaking her head, she dumped the contents of the closet onto the bed, sorting Kirill’s belongings into neat stacks. By lunchtime, the bedroom had undergone a complete transformation. Every trace of Nastya had been removed. Her clothes? Relocated to the living room. The bed? Stripped and re-dressed in wrinkled but ‘clean’ sheets Alice Albertovna had found.
As the final touch, she slid under the fresh covers with a book. By the time Kirill and Nastya returned, dinner was already simmering on the stove.
“Your mother is a whirlwind,” Nastya whispered.
“Kirill, come eat while it’s hot,” Alice Albertovna called—pointedly addressing only her son.
Nastya frowned. “Where are my clothes?”
“In the living room,” her mother-in-law said nonchalantly.
“Nast, let’s eat first,” Kirill said quickly, sensing a storm brewing.
Nastya sat down, only to notice that no plate had been set for her. Undeterred, she grabbed one from the cabinet. Alice Albertovna, unwilling to let her son go hungry, begrudgingly served another portion.
“What are you eating? You’ve lost weight,” the older woman observed.
“I’m on a diet,” Kirill explained. “Nastya wants me to stay in shape.”
“Oh, does she? She certainly demands a lot. She’s thin as a stick herself.”
Kirill choked on his food. Nastya, however, remained unfazed.
“My weight is perfectly healthy,” she said.
“I’d argue that.”
“Oh? Should we test it?” Nastya disappeared and returned with a scale and a health chart. “I have a perfect BMI. But you, Alice Albertovna, are considered overweight. You should eat less.”
The older woman turned crimson. “How dare you?!”
“You insulted me first. I simply returned the favor.”
Alice Albertovna gasped. Kirill raised his hands in surrender.
“Let’s not argue.”
“I wasn’t arguing—she attacked me!”
“As the wise cat from that cartoon says, let’s live peacefully…” Kirill sighed.
“How can I live peacefully with someone so disrespectful?” Alice Albertovna exclaimed. “I get it now! She’s thin and mean because she has worms! Kirill, she needs to be tested immediately!”
“Mom, that’s enough!” Kirill’s voice was firm this time. “Good night.”
A Tactical Retreat
The night was long for Alice Albertovna. With no doors to close off the living room, she had no choice but to overhear the newlyweds’ rather enthusiastic affection. By morning, she was exhausted and furious. But as she sat up, she noticed a tray on the nightstand—coffee and éclairs, her favorite.
Her heart softened. “Oh, my dear boy… He brought me pastries to make peace.”
Smiling, she opened the box—only to find a medical specimen jar inside with a note:
“Good morning, dear mother-in-law! Here’s a little something for your test.”
Alice Albertovna nearly dropped the box in horror.
“Kirill!! Do you know what your wife has done?!”
Kirill, munching on a croissant, glanced at the note and burst into laughter.
“It’s chocolate, Mom. Just a joke.”
Alice Albertovna’s face darkened. That was the last straw. She packed her bags and left for a hotel, muttering about “modern disrespect.”
When Kirill called later, she answered stiffly.
“Dinner with us tonight?” he asked. “Nastya made a feast.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Well, Sunday, then? Just you and me?”
“No Nastya?”
“No Nastya.”
“Fine. See you then.”
She hung up, sighing. Maybe compromise was the only way to keep her son close.
Maybe.