Anna wiped the fogged-up mirror in the bathroom and stared intently at her own reflection. Forty years old—a milestone she had always pictured differently. When she was younger, she imagined life at this age would be perfectly settled, with every inner turmoil long since calmed. Yet, here she stood, in the bathroom, overwhelmed by a familiar anxiety rising like a storm.
“Anna, you have thirty minutes,” her voice called out firmly to herself. “Just thirty minutes of calm and peace.”
From the living room, the unmistakable sound of furniture being moved mingled with the authoritative instructions of her mother-in-law, Galina Petrovna, directed at Sergey, her husband.
“Seryozhenka, you’re not putting the table in the right place!” Galina’s tone was commanding. “It must be closer to the window so the light falls just right. At Larisa’s, the atmosphere was always bright and warm… she knew exactly how to arrange the space.”
“Mom,” Sergey’s irritation surfaced in his reply, “Anna and I already decided. The table stays here.”
“Oh, heavens!” Galina exclaimed dramatically. “I only meant well. This always happens: we try to help, but no one understands. Larisa always appreciated my advice…”
At the mention of Larisa — Sergey’s former girlfriend — Anna tightened her lips and squeezed a bit harder on the sponge soaked with cleaning foam. The sharp scent of bleach stung her nostrils but failed to mask the bitterness swelling inside. Ten years of marriage, and Galina Petrovna still refused to accept that her son had chosen someone other than her favorite.
Taking a deep breath, Anna reminded herself that only three days remained. Galina Petrovna had come for their silver wedding anniversary and would leave immediately after the celebration. Just three more days — she could endure that. She always had.
Having finished cleaning the bathroom, Anna listened closely. Muted voices were coming from the living room. Apparently, her mother-in-law had discovered another reason to criticize.
“And the tulle — did you change it recently?” Galina inquired. “Honestly, it doesn’t make a good impression. I’ve seen some wonderful designs in stores…”
“Mom,” Sergey responded patiently, “we’re happy with our tulle.”
“Of course, if you like it… but in a respectable home, such details matter.”
Anna closed her eyes. Every visit from her mother-in-law felt like a home inspection, scrutinizing their habits and way of life. Galina Petrovna always managed to find countless flaws.
There was a knock at the bathroom door.
“Anna, are you almost ready?” Sergey’s voice sounded guilty, like a schoolboy late for class. “Mom is here… well, you know…”
“Can’t she find something to criticize without me around?” Anna retorted sarcastically, then immediately regretted her tone. “Tell her I’m nearly done, I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Anna,” Sergey hesitated behind the door, “please don’t hold too much against her, okay? She worries… in her own way.”
Anna rubbed her face wearily.
“Her way, you say?” she replied. “By comparing me to Larisa ten times a day?”
Silence followed.
“I’ll talk to her,” Sergey finally promised.
“Don’t,” Anna sighed. “Leave her be. It’s a celebration. I’ll endure.”
She opened the door and met her husband’s eyes, which carried equal parts gratitude and remorse.
Returning to the kitchen, she found Galina Petrovna rummaging through the top drawer of the buffet, muttering under her breath. Her wrinkled fingers, with ripe cherry-red nails, flicked confidently over cutlery, napkins, and dishes as if it were her own kitchen.
“Here they are!” Galina exclaimed triumphantly, pulling out a pack of napkins decorated with gold trim. “Anna, my darling, you completely hid these. Yet these are for special occasions. I remember giving them to you for your housewarming.”
Anna moved closer, irritation simmering beneath her calm exterior. The napkins had actually been purchased by her and Sergey the previous year before New Year’s. But arguing was pointless.
“Usually, we use different ones,” she answered quietly, taking the pack from her mother-in-law. “I saved these for tonight.”
“You’ve always been so thrifty,” Galina said with an unreadable expression between praise and criticism. “Sometimes, even a bit too much. But at celebrations, Anna, it’s important to relax a little.”
Anna turned silently toward the stove, where her signature stew bubbled gently.
“By the way, what are you cooking?” Galina asked, leaning toward the pot with a wrinkled nose. “It looks… unusual. Sergey has always liked classic dishes. You know, simple, familiar, comforting.”
“It’s a special stew recipe,” Anna replied, stirring the fragrant contents with a wooden spoon. “With thyme and rosemary.”
“Ah, those spices,” Galina muttered as if Anna had committed a crime. “Since childhood, Sergey never liked spicy foods. They always upset his stomach.”
“Those aren’t hot spices, Mom,” Sergey interjected, stepping into the doorway. “They’re herbs, and I love how Anna uses them.”
“Of course, of course,” Galina waved her hands theatrically. “Nowadays, everyone is fascinated by complicated culinary creations. I remember Larisa made a borscht to die for! Simple but so tasty. Your father—may he rest in peace—always asked for seconds.”
Anna clenched her jaw and began chopping herbs for garnishing, making every effort not to react to the relentless mention of Sergey’s ex.
“Anna prepares a delicious stew,” Sergey said reassuringly, pressing his wife’s shoulder. “You’ll love it, I’m certain.”
“We shall see,” Galina replied, pursing her lips. Her gaze settled briefly on her son’s hand on Anna’s shoulder. “My boy has never been picky about food. He eats whatever’s offered. You know, men are like that.”
Anna slammed the cupboard door loudly. Ten years ago, when she married Sergey, she hadn’t imagined marrying his mother as well, with her endless comparisons to the ideal that was Larisa.
Suddenly, Anna realized she would never meet Galina Petrovna’s expectations. She could never reach the mythical status Larisa held in her eyes. No matter if she mastered the world’s best borscht, bore three children, or gave in to every whim of her mother-in-law—nothing would change.
“Remember, Sergey,” Galina said sternly, arranging plates like a seasoned decorator, “how you and Larisa planned to go on a cruise? She dreamed of seeing Venice…the true romance: gondolas, canals, ancient architecture.”
Sergey cast a guilty glance at his wife.
“Mom,” he muttered, “that was so long ago.”
“But what plans,” Galina marveled again, eyes glazing over, ignoring him. “It’s a shame you broke up right before the trip. Though, you know, I always thought it was for the best.”
She smiled, heavy with innuendo, implying that the “best” was certainly not her friendship with Anna.
“By the way, Larisa called me recently,” she added casually, like discussing the weather. “She wanted to know how you were. She works now in a prestigious company as an accounting manager and is still unmarried. Perhaps she’s hopeful…”
Anna set the casserole down abruptly. Sergey jumped, and Galina shook her head as if accustomed to such rudeness.
“Galina Petrovna,” Anna said, keeping her voice calm despite her inner storm, “would you help me chop vegetables for the salad? I’ll start setting the table.”
Her tone was polite yet forced, while her eyes betrayed the tempest brewing inside her.
Two hours before guests arrived, Anna felt tension rising toward an unbearable peak. Her mother-in-law had already commented on nearly everything—from the choice of tablecloth to Anna’s hairstyle.
“Dear, don’t forget to pin up your hair,” Galina advised suddenly, adjusting a photo of her son on the dresser. “Loose hair makes your face look fuller. Larisa had such a graceful neck; short styles suited her perfectly…”
Sergey caught Anna’s glance and tried to intervene.
“Mom,” he said, “long hair suits Anna beautifully. It’s stunning.”
“Yes, yes,” Galina replied absentmindedly, “but did I say something wrong? I was only giving advice. By the way, Sergey, did you think about the champagne? Not the cheapest, but something good? I remember, for Larisa’s birthday, you had a wonderful French brut…”
Anna left the room, pretending to check on the roasting meat. Leaning against the refrigerator with closed eyes, she repeated to herself, “Just a little longer. Soon the guests will arrive, and the atmosphere will relax. Then she won’t be able to compare me to Larisa at every turn.”
The first arrivals were Oleg and Vika, longtime family friends. Others started coming—the colleagues of Sergey with their wives, Anna’s friend and her spouse. By seven o’clock, the living room buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and cheerful energy.
As Anna received praise for her culinary skills, she finally felt at ease for the first time that day. Guests competed in complimenting her stew, the delicate seafood salad, and the cloud-like apple charlotte.
- “You have magic hands, Anna!” Vika exclaimed, taking more salad.
- “Yes, the table looks simply gorgeous,” Oleg added. “Sergey, you’re lucky to have such a wife!”
- Sergey embraced Anna with a tender look, whispering, “I know. She’s the best.”
A warm glow spread through Anna’s body at his words. In that moment, she realized her years of patience had been worth it.
Suddenly, Galina Petrovna struck her fork loudly against a glass.
“Dear friends! I’d like to propose a toast!”
The room fell into a heavy silence. Anna tensed, her heart pounding.
“Today, we celebrate the ten-year marriage of my son and Anna,” Galina began, raising her glass. “Ten years is significant, and I’m glad my Seryozha has found happiness in marriage. Although,” she paused dramatically, “fate could have taken a different path.”
Anna felt Sergey’s hand tighten on her shoulder.
“Many of you surely remember Larisa?” Galina continued, sweeping the room with a gaze. “What a beauty she was! Brilliant, an excellent homemaker. They dated nearly five years. Everyone expected marriage was imminent.”
A heavy silence descended. Anna’s face burned.
“But life is unpredictable,” her mother-in-law murmured. “They parted ways, and now Seryozha has a new destiny. By the way, I spoke to Larisa on the phone yesterday. She works as an accounting director in a large firm and is still unmarried. Perhaps she’s still hoping…”
Anna abruptly rose from her chair. The silence was so profound the ticking of wall clocks was audible.
“Galina Petrovna,” her tone suddenly sharp, “for ten years you haven’t missed a chance to remind me about Larisa. Not one!”
Her mother-in-law blinked, both shocked and hurt.
“Anna dear, what are you saying?” she stammered. “I was only…”
“No,” Anna interrupted firmly. “Today is our wedding anniversary. Sergey and I are hosting guests. And I will no longer tolerate constant reminders about my husband’s ex girlfriend’s perfection!”
Galina straightened indignantly.
“How dare you speak to your husband’s mother like that?” she exclaimed. “I only wanted…”
“Leave my home,” Anna blurted without thinking. “I don’t care about your so-called good intentions! I’ve endured your implications and comparisons for ten years! Enough!”
An overwhelming silence filled the room. Galina’s face paled as she slumped back in her chair, stunned by Anna’s words. Sergey stood up hurriedly.
“Anna…”
“No, Sergey,” she cut in. “Enough. Your mother must stop comparing me endlessly to Larisa and mentioning her at every opportunity, or she can pack up and leave immediately!”
Galina rose slowly, her face flushed and trembling.
“There’s no need to kick me out; I’ll leave on my own. I didn’t expect such ingratitude,” she said, turning to her son. “Sergey, please walk me out.”
Sergey gave a helpless glance to his wife, then left arm in arm with his mother. Anna collapsed onto her chair, knees shaking. A chilling silence dominated the living room.
“Excuse me,” Anna finally said, addressing the guests. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”
Vika was the first to break the silence:
“Anna, don’t apologize. We understand.”
The others nodded in agreement, and someone raised a glass:
“To the true hostess of this home!”
About twenty minutes later, Sergey returned. His face showed the strain of the conversation he had just had with his mother.
“She’s staying at a hotel,” he whispered as he sat beside Anna. “Tomorrow, she’s flying to Yekaterinburg.”
“Sergey,” Anna began, but he interrupted.
“No, I should apologize. I should have spoken to her much sooner. All these years, I pretended not to see how much she hurt you.”
Gradually, tension eased, guests relaxed, and the evening returned to its lively rhythm. Music played, Oleg toasted “family peace,” and the celebration flourished.
Late at night, after the last guests had left, Anna and Sergey cleaned the kitchen together.
- “Do you regret it?” Sergey asked, loading dishes in the dishwasher.
- Anna considered briefly.
- “No,” she said. “Maybe the approach was harsh, but the cause was right. I stayed silent far too long.”
- Sergey hugged her tightly. “Tomorrow, I’ll call Mom. I will explain that if she wants to be part of our lives, she must respect you and our choices.”
Leaning her head on his shoulder with closed eyes, Anna felt a newfound relief. Yes, the confrontation was painful; yes, the conversation was difficult. But sometimes, moments of truth are essential to build genuinely healthy relationships.
From the bedroom, the faint hum of Galina Petrovna’s phone charger was heard—the only item she had forgotten in her rush. Tomorrow Sergey would take her to the hotel. Then, step by step, word by word, they would sort everything out. But for now, in her husband’s arms, Anna experienced peace and confidence that she had done the right thing. Sometimes, saying “enough” is the first step toward a new beginning.