So you celebrated your anniversary at my dacha and at my expense, and I only found out about it now?” Veronika said. But her mother-in-law hadn’t yet realized what was coming…
“Veronika, dear! What a wonderful celebration you had at your dacha! I’m still impressed. Such organization, such attention to detail!” came Nadezhda Petrovna’s delighted voice through the phone.
Veronika froze, gripping the phone. What celebration? She and Slavik hadn’t been to the dacha for three weeks because of his urgent project.
“Excuse me, Nadezhda Petrovna, what are you talking about?” she asked cautiously.
“What do you mean? Your mother-in-law’s anniversary, of course! Last weekend. Sixty-five is a respectable milestone! So many guests, such a table! And the fireworks were absolutely magnificent!”
Something inside Veronika sank. She had not planned or hosted any anniversary celebration for her mother-in-law at their dacha. In fact, she hadn’t even known any celebration was coming.
“Oh… yes, of course,” she muttered, thinking frantically. “So, you celebrated your anniversary at my dacha and at my expense, and I only found out about it now? But I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she added sarcastically.
Her mother-in-law did not understand the sarcasm.
“Very much! Give my regards to Valeria Ivanovna. Such an energetic woman! She told so many interesting things about your plans to renovate the dacha.”
After ending the call, Veronika sat for several minutes, staring at one spot. Then she slowly dialed the number of the neighbor on the other side of the property, Sergey Mikhailovich.
“Sergey Mikhailovich, hello. I’m sorry to bother you. Could you tell me what was happening at our dacha last weekend?”
The picture that came together was staggering. At their family dacha, bought with a mortgage they were still paying off, her mother-in-law had thrown a grand celebration. According to the neighbors, there had been no fewer than thirty guests, loud music had been playing, a lavish table had been set, and at the end, fireworks had been launched.
Veronika hurriedly opened the app for the surveillance system installed at the dacha. The recordings confirmed her worst fears. In the video, Valeria Ivanovna, together with her brother Nikolai Stepanovich and her friend Rimma, was directing the preparations: setting up tables, carrying dishes out of the house, taking supplies from the cellar that Veronika had so carefully filled with pickles and jam for the winter.
But what shocked her most was how confidently her mother-in-law opened every cabinet and drawer, how well she knew where everything was, where the keys to the utility room were kept. As if it were her own house.
“All right, now let’s take out the good porcelain,” Valeria Ivanovna commanded in the video. “Veronika doesn’t need it anyway; it just gathers dust in the cupboard. And my guests deserve the best.”
Veronika felt a lump rise in her throat. That porcelain set had been a wedding gift from her grandmother.
At that moment the front door slammed, and Slavik entered the apartment. From his carefree expression, it was clear he had no idea what was going on.
“Slavik,” Veronika said slowly, “is there anything you want to tell me?”
“About what?” he asked, looking at his wife in confusion.
“About your mother’s anniversary. The one she celebrated at our dacha. Last weekend.”
Slavik’s face changed. His shoulders dropped slightly. He looked away.
“Oh, that… Mom called and said she wanted to celebrate her birthday. I told her we wouldn’t be able to come because of my project.”
“And?”
“And that’s all. I didn’t think she would decide to celebrate at the dacha.”
“You didn’t think?” Veronika felt anger boiling inside her. “Then who gave her the keys? The alarm code? Who told her where everything and all the food were kept?”
Slavik was silent for a moment, then sighed.
“Listen, she’s my mother. She just wanted to celebrate her birthday. Her apartment is too small for that many guests…”
“So you knew?” Veronika’s voice trembled. “You knew she was going to use our dacha for her party and didn’t say a word to me?”
“I didn’t think it was that important,” Slavik tried to justify himself. “The dacha was just sitting empty…”
“Just sitting empty?” Veronika opened the surveillance recording. “Look at what your mother and her guests did at our ‘just empty dacha’!”
The next day, Veronika took time off from work and drove to the dacha to assess the damage. What she saw exceeded her darkest expectations. The garden she had lovingly cultivated for the past two years had been partly trampled. There were marks from tables and chairs on the lawn, cigarette butts — even though smoking on the property was strictly forbidden — and shards of broken dishes.
Inside the house, things were relatively tidy — at least the garbage had been removed. But soon Veronika noticed missing items. The antique porcelain set, a family heirloom from her grandmother, was gone. The collection of vintage figurines from the mantelpiece had disappeared. The expensive gardening tools she and Slavik had bought only a month earlier were also missing.
Veronika opened the cellar and gasped. All the shelves with winter preserves were empty. Dozens of jars of pickles, jam, and marinades — everything was gone. She had spent two weeks of her vacation making those supplies!
After inspecting the whole property, Veronika sat on the porch and cried from helplessness and hurt. The phone in her pocket vibrated. It was Slavik calling.
“Well, how is it there?” he asked anxiously.
“How is it?” Veronika laughed bitterly. “Your mother and her guests literally looted our house! My things are missing, Slavik. Grandma’s porcelain set, the figurines, the new gardening tools. The whole cellar is empty. The garden is trampled!”
“Maybe she just took the things temporarily?” Slavik suggested uncertainly. “Let’s talk to her first…”
“Talk? She didn’t even think it necessary to ask permission to use our dacha!” Veronika felt tears rising again. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s talk. Right now. Let’s go to your mother.”
At Valeria Ivanovna’s apartment, they were greeted warmly — too warmly, as it seemed to Veronika. Her mother-in-law, an elegant woman with perfectly styled hair, smiled and invited them to the table.
“Slavik, Veronika! What a pleasant surprise! Come in, I just baked a pie.”
“Valeria Ivanovna,” Veronika tried to speak calmly, “we came to talk about your anniversary.”
“Oh, did you like it?” her mother-in-law beamed. “It’s a shame you couldn’t attend. It was so wonderful! All the guests were delighted with the dacha.”
“That’s exactly the point,” Veronika continued. “We knew nothing about the celebration at our dacha.”
Valeria Ivanovna looked at her with slight surprise.
“How could you not know? Slavik gave me the keys. I thought you had discussed everything.”
Veronika turned to her husband. He guiltily lowered his eyes.
“Mom, I gave you the keys so you could take your things from the storage room. I didn’t say you could throw a party there.”
“Oh, Slavik, come on!” Valeria Ivanovna waved her hand. “What difference does it make? The dacha was empty anyway. And I helped you with the down payment, if you remember. So it is partly mine.”
Veronika felt everything inside her begin to boil. That “down payment” had been 50,000 rubles, which she and Slavik had returned long ago. The three-million-ruble mortgage they had been paying for the third year was entirely their responsibility.
“Valeria Ivanovna,” Veronika said as calmly as possible, “this is not only about the celebration itself. Things disappeared from the dacha. My grandmother’s porcelain set, the collection of figurines, the gardening tools. The entire cellar was emptied.”
Her mother-in-law frowned slightly.
“The set? Oh, that old porcelain? It’s with me. I decided it would look better in my display cabinet. And I gave the figurines to Rimma Sergeyevna — she has just such a collection. She was so happy!”
“You gave away my things?” Veronika could not believe her ears.
“Well, they were just standing there unused,” Valeria Ivanovna shrugged. “As for the cellar — those were just ordinary pickles! I treated the guests, and everyone liked them very much.”
“Mom,” Slavik interrupted, “you had no right to dispose of Veronika’s things without her permission.”
“Slavik!” Valeria Ivanovna exclaimed indignantly. “I am your mother! How can you speak to me like that? I only wanted to celebrate my anniversary with family and friends. And Veronika is making a scandal over some trinkets!”
The next morning, as Veronika was getting ready for work, the doorbell rang. A courier stood on the doorstep with a huge bouquet and a thick folder of documents.
“Veronika Andreyevna?” he clarified. “This is the bill for catering and event organization. Please sign here.”
Not understanding anything, Veronika opened the folder. Inside was a detailed bill for 85,000 rubles for servicing a celebration “at a country house at the address…” — their dacha address.
“Excuse me, there must be some mistake,” she began. “I didn’t order any catering.”
“That’s correct,” the courier nodded. “The customer is Valeria Ivanovna Sokolova. But your contact details and billing address are listed in the contract.”
Veronika felt nausea rise in her throat. Her mother-in-law had not only used their dacha without permission, but had also sent the bill to their address!
When the courier left, she immediately called Slavik.
“Do you know that your mother ordered catering for 85,000 and listed our address for payment?” Veronika asked without preamble.
“What? No, I… I didn’t know,” Slavik answered, confused. “It must be some mistake.”
“There is no mistake. A courier just delivered the bill. And you know what? I’ve had enough! I’m going to your mother right now.”
“Wait!” Slavik tried to stop her. “I’ll be free in an hour. Let’s go together.”
“No, Slavik. I can’t wait anymore. This has gone far beyond every boundary.”
At Valeria Ivanovna’s apartment, Veronika found not only her mother-in-law but also her friend Rimma Sergeyevna — the very woman to whom her mother-in-law had “given” the collection of figurines.
“Veronika!” Valeria Ivanovna said in surprise. “Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened.” Veronika placed the folder with the documents on the table. “Please explain why I am supposed to pay for your celebration.”
Valeria Ivanovna glanced quickly at the bill and shrugged.
“What’s the problem? You and Slavik earn more than I do anyway. Besides, if you had come to the celebration, as I invited you to, everything would have been different.”
“Invited?” Veronika was shocked. “You didn’t invite us! You didn’t tell us anything at all!”
“I told Slavik,” her mother-in-law waved it off. “He was supposed to pass it on.”
Veronika inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself.
“Valeria Ivanovna, I demand that you return everything you took from our dacha. And pay this bill. It was your celebration, and you should pay for it.”
“What things?” her mother-in-law asked innocently. “Oh, you mean the porcelain set? But it looks so good in my cabinet! Besides, it is Slavik’s family heirloom.”
“It was my grandmother’s wedding gift to me!” Veronika said indignantly.
Rimma Sergeyevna, who had been silently watching the conversation until then, interrupted.
“Valerochka, maybe you should return the set? After all, it belongs to them…”
“You’re against me too?” Valeria Ivanovna sharply turned to her friend. “Fine! Take your set! And take your figurines too!” she said to Veronika. “Just don’t expect me to pay for the party. It was a family celebration, by the way. It’s not my fault you didn’t want to come.”
At that moment Slavik entered the apartment. From his expression, it was clear he had heard the end of the conversation.
“Mom,” he said firmly, “you must pay the catering bill. You ordered it, so you pay for it.”
Valeria Ivanovna looked at her son with wounded eyes.
“Slavik, are you really taking her side? I am your mother! I raised you, I spent my whole life trying for you!”
“This is not about taking sides,” Slavik answered. “This is about the fact that you cannot use someone else’s property without permission and shift your expenses onto other people.”
“Someone else’s property?” Valeria Ivanovna threw up her hands. “I helped you buy that dacha! If not for my money…”
“Mom, we returned those 50,000 to you two years ago,” Slavik said tiredly. “The dacha is completely ours. And you know that perfectly well.”
That evening, when Veronika and Slavik returned home, the phone rang. It was Igor Vasilyevich, Slavik’s boss.
“Slavik, sorry for the late call,” he began. “I wanted to thank you for the invitation to your mother’s anniversary. It was very pleasant. Only it was strange that Veronika didn’t show up…”
Slavik froze, not knowing what to answer.
“Sofya and I thought maybe she was ill?” Igor Vasilyevich continued. “But your mother said Veronika simply didn’t want to come to a family celebration. We were a little surprised…”
Slavik cast a confused glance at his wife, who had heard the conversation.
“Igor Vasilyevich, there was a misunderstanding,” he finally said. “Veronika and I didn’t know about the celebration. My mother organized it without our knowledge.”
An awkward silence fell on the other end of the line.
“I see…” his boss drawled. “Well, in any case, it was nice to meet your mother. And Marina, by the way. She said you’ve known each other for a long time.”
Veronika raised an eyebrow. Marina? Slavik’s ex-girlfriend, whom his mother-in-law always praised with delight? The same Marina who had recently divorced?
“Yes, we studied together,” Slavik answered dryly.
After the call, Veronika looked at her husband.
“Igor Vasilyevich was at the party? And Marina too?”
Slavik nervously ran a hand through his hair.
“I had no idea. Mom didn’t tell me anything.”
“Your mother invited your boss and your ex to a party she held in our house, at our expense, and didn’t even warn us,” Veronika said slowly. “And now your boss thinks I’m some ill-mannered person who ignores family celebrations.”
“I’ll explain everything to him,” Slavik promised. “And I’ll call Mom too. This has gone too far.”
But before he could finish, the doorbell rang. Valeria Ivanovna was standing on the threshold with three friends, including Rimma Sergeyevna.
“And here we are!” her mother-in-law announced cheerfully, walking into the apartment without invitation. “We decided to continue the celebration!”
Veronika watched in horror as four women unceremoniously entered their home, carrying bags of food and bottles of wine.
“Valeria Ivanovna,” she began, “we didn’t agree—”
“Oh, Veronika, don’t be so formal!” her mother-in-law waved her off. “We’re family! By the way, are those new curtains? Not a very successful choice. I would suggest something warmer, burgundy, for example.”
She went into the kitchen and began laying out the food she had brought, while simultaneously criticizing the furniture arrangement and the cleanliness of the stove.
“Slavik, son, don’t you help your wife around the house? Look how much dust there is on the shelves!”
Veronika felt everything inside her boiling with indignation. Slavik looked no less confused.
“Mom,” he finally said, “we weren’t expecting guests today.”
“What do you mean, guests?” Valeria Ivanovna asked sincerely, surprised. “I’m your mother! And after such a wonderful anniversary, one wants to prolong the celebration.”
One of the friends, whom Veronika had never seen before, joined in.
“Valerochka told us what a wonderful dacha you have! She especially admired your kitchen. She says that as soon as you move out, she’ll turn it into a real interior masterpiece!”
Veronika and Slavik exchanged stunned looks.
“Move out?” Veronika repeated. “What are you talking about?”
The friend became embarrassed under Valeria Ivanovna’s stern gaze.
“Oh, did I say something wrong? Valerochka, you said the dacha would soon be entirely yours and that you would renovate it…”
“Tamara!” Valeria Ivanovna snapped. “You mixed everything up! I said I was helping the children arrange the dacha. With advice, of course.”
But it was too late. Veronika understood everything. Her mother-in-law had not merely used their dacha for a party — she had been telling everyone that the dacha practically belonged to her!
“Valeria Ivanovna,” Veronika said firmly, “I think you and your friends had better leave. Now.”
“What?” Her mother-in-law looked offended. “How dare you? Slavik, do you hear how she is speaking to me?”
But Slavik unexpectedly stood beside his wife.
“Mom, Veronika is right. You came without an invitation. And after everything that happened at the dacha, we really need to have a serious conversation. But not now and not like this.”
The next day, Veronika woke up with a firm decision to put an end to the situation. While Slavik was in the shower, she sat down at the computer and made a detailed list of all the missing items with their approximate value. Then she called the catering company and explained the situation. To her surprise, the manager was understanding and agreed to reissue the bill in Valeria Ivanovna’s name.
“We sometimes encounter cases like this,” he sighed. “Unfortunately, not all customers behave honestly.”
When Slavik came out of the bathroom, Veronika showed him the list.
“This is what disappeared from the dacha. And that’s not counting the moral damage or the ruined garden. I demand that your mother compensate at least the cost of the items.”
Slavik studied the list carefully, then sighed heavily.
“You’re right. Mom went too far. I’ll talk to her.”
“No, Slavik,” Veronika shook her head. “We will talk to her. Together. I’m tired of you constantly ending up between us. It’s time to clarify the situation once and for all.”
This time they came to Valeria Ivanovna’s without warning. She clearly had not expected their visit and looked irritated.
“What happened? Why didn’t you call beforehand? I have plans today.”
“We need to talk, Mom,” Slavik said firmly. “About what happened at the dacha and yesterday in our apartment.”
Valeria Ivanovna waved her hand carelessly.
“I don’t understand what all this fuss is about. So what, I celebrated my anniversary! You weren’t using the dacha that weekend anyway.”
“It’s not only about the celebration,” Veronika placed the list on the table. “Here is a list of the things that disappeared after your visit. The total value is almost 150,000 rubles. That’s not counting the catering bill or the damage to the garden.”
Valeria Ivanovna skimmed the list.
“What nonsense! No one stole anything. The set is with me, I already said that. I gave the figurines to Rimma, but I can ask her to return them if you insist so much. As for the rest… Probably one of the guests accidentally took something. You understand, there were many people at the party. I couldn’t watch everyone.”
“Mom,” Slavik tried to speak calmly, “you had no right to use our dacha without permission. And especially no right to invite guests there who ‘accidentally took’ our things.”
“Oh, come on, Slavik!” Valeria Ivanovna dismissed him contemptuously. “I only wanted to celebrate my anniversary in a nice place. What’s so terrible about that? It’s not as if I celebrated it on a riverboat, like some people!”
Veronika frowned, not understanding what she meant.
“What does a riverboat have to do with this?”
“You don’t know?” Valeria Ivanovna smiled sweetly. “Marina’s neighbor — the very Marina Slavik dated before you — celebrated her anniversary on a riverboat. It was very luxurious. Marina showed photos at the party.”
Veronika mentally counted to ten.
“Valeria Ivanovna, I am not interested in Marina or her neighbor. I am interested in when you will return our things and pay the catering bill.”
“Oh, Veronika,” Valeria Ivanovna crossed her arms. “You always reduce everything to money! Don’t you want to think about feelings? How hurt a mother was that her son and daughter-in-law didn’t come to her anniversary!”
“Mom, enough,” Slavik interrupted firmly. “We could not come to a party no one told us about. And right now this isn’t about feelings, but about specific actions. You took our things without asking and must return them.”
Valeria Ivanovna pressed her lips together and turned away. It was clear she was not used to her son contradicting her.
“Fine,” she finally hissed. “I’ll return the set. And I’ll call Rimma about the figurines. But I didn’t take anything else! And as for that bill…” she nodded toward the papers, “I simply don’t have that kind of money.”
“You do, Mom,” Slavik objected. “You recently sold Grandpa’s dacha for good money. And I know you put part of the amount into a deposit.”
Valeria Ivanovna flushed.
“You’re watching my finances? This is outrageous!”
“No, Mom. You told Aunt Lyuba yourself, and she mentioned it in front of me. So you do have the money, and you will pay this bill.”
Valeria Ivanovna looked at them with wounded eyes but realized that this time her son would not give in.
“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll pay your stupid bill. But know this: you have broken an old woman’s heart. And Lyudmila and Nikolai Stepanovich will be shocked when they learn how you treat your mother!”
“Let them learn,” Veronika answered calmly. “And at the same time they can learn how you treat other people’s property. And one more thing, Valeria Ivanovna: we changed the locks at the dacha and installed a new alarm system. So there will be no more surprises.”
Valeria Ivanovna gasped with indignation.
“You… you don’t trust me? Your own mother?”
“That’s right,” Slavik nodded. “After everything that happened, we don’t. And until you realize that you were wrong, that’s how it will remain.”
The next two weeks passed in tense anticipation. Valeria Ivanovna did return the porcelain set and forced Rimma to return the figurines, though reluctantly. She also paid the catering bill, but she didn’t miss the chance to send Slavik a dozen messages about how she had to “tighten her belt” and give up buying a new fur coat.
As her mother-in-law had predicted, she immediately turned to all the relatives, presenting the situation in a way favorable to herself. Lyudmila, Slavik’s sister, called and caused a real scandal, accusing Veronika of “turning her brother against their mother.”
“Lyudmila,” Slavik patiently explained, “Veronika isn’t turning anyone against anyone. Mom used our dacha without permission, took our things, and sent us the bill. Tell me honestly, would you like someone treating your property that way?”
His sister cooled down a little, but she was still unhappy.
“Well, Mom isn’t a stranger! You could have forgiven her this little weakness.”
“Little weakness?” Veronika, who had heard the conversation, could not hold back. “She sent us an 85,000-ruble bill! And told everyone the dacha belonged to her!”
Lyudmila was silent for a moment, then reluctantly admitted:
“Well, yes, that is too much… But still, she’s Mom…”
That became a kind of refrain in every conversation with Slavik’s relatives: “Yes, she was wrong, but she’s Mom…”
Veronika felt the gap between herself and her husband’s family growing. And to top it all off, Slavik came home from work with unexpected news.
“Igor Vasilyevich offered me a promotion,” he said, not looking at his wife.
“That’s wonderful!” Veronika rejoiced. “You’ve deserved it for a long time.”
“Yes, but…” Slavik hesitated. “He said the deciding factor was Mom’s recommendation at that unfortunate anniversary. She praised me a lot, and Igor Vasilyevich decided to give me a chance.”
Veronika froze. It turned out that the very party that had caused them so many problems had helped Slavik’s career?
“That is… unexpected,” was all she could say.
“I don’t know how to feel about it,” Slavik admitted. “On one hand, I’m glad about the promotion. On the other, it’s unpleasant that it’s connected to Mom’s stunt.”
“Listen,” Veronika took his hand. “Your mother could have praised you as much as she wanted, but if you really didn’t deserve the promotion, Igor Vasilyevich wouldn’t have given it to you. So just be proud of your achievements.”
Slavik smiled gratefully.
“Thank you. You know, I called my boss and explained everything to him. About the fact that we didn’t know about the party and the entire situation. He understood and said that now a lot of things made sense. Apparently, he had also wondered why you weren’t at your mother-in-law’s anniversary.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a phone call. It was Nadezhda Petrovna, the neighbor from the dacha.
“Veronika, dear! I’m so glad I reached you. Imagine, your mother-in-law came to the dacha again! Yesterday. With some man and a whole group of people. They walked around the fence but couldn’t get inside — the lock wouldn’t open. Valeria Ivanovna was very indignant and shouted that it was her dacha. The man with her spent a long time photographing the property through the fence.”
Veronika felt everything inside her go cold.
“Thank you, Nadezhda Petrovna. We’ll deal with it.”
After hanging up, she turned to Slavik.
“Your mother tried to get into the dacha again. With some man who was photographing the property.”
Slavik frowned.
“That’s strange. I’ll call her.”
The conversation with his mother was tense. Valeria Ivanovna first denied that she had gone to the dacha, then admitted it, but said she had “just wanted to show the property to an old friend.” And when Slavik asked why they had photographed the dacha through the fence, she suddenly burst into tears and accusations.
“You don’t trust me at all! My own son! And it’s all because of her, because of Veronika! She turned you against me!”
“Mom, stop,” Slavik said tiredly. “No one turned anyone against anyone. Just explain why you photographed the dacha.”
“We didn’t photograph anything!” Valeria Ivanovna exclaimed. “Grigory Petrovich simply wanted to look at the property. He… he’s a landscape designer! Yes, exactly. I wanted to surprise you — a new garden design to replace the ruined one.”
Slavik and Veronika exchanged glances. The story sounded implausible, but they had no direct proof to the contrary.
“All right, Mom. But in the future, please warn us if you want to come to the dacha.”
After the call, Veronika hugged her husband.
“She’s lying, you understand that, don’t you?”
“I do,” Slavik sighed heavily. “But I don’t know what to do about it. She is my mother, and I can’t simply erase her from my life.”
“You don’t have to,” Veronika said gently. “But clear boundaries are necessary. Otherwise, this situation will repeat itself again and again.”
A few days later, Slavik received a strange call from their neighbor, Sergey Mikhailovich.
“Slavik, there are some people walking around your property, measuring things with a tape measure. They say they’re from the BTI, conducting a routine inspection. But they don’t have any official papers, and they look suspicious.”
“What nonsense?” Slavik said in surprise. “There shouldn’t be any inspections. I’m coming now.”
When he and Veronika arrived at the dacha, they found no one, but Sergey Mikhailovich showed them photos of the strange “inspectors.” In one of them, a car with the logo of a private real estate company was clearly visible.
“Realtors?” Veronika went cold. “Is your mother trying to sell our dacha?”
“This is madness,” Slavik muttered. “Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t. She doesn’t have the documents.”
“Are you sure she doesn’t?” Veronika looked closely at her husband. “Remember, you said the first documents for the dacha were arranged with her help because you were on a business trip?”
Slavik turned pale.
“No, no, that’s impossible. We re-registered everything in both our names when we took out the mortgage.”
“Yes, but what if she kept copies? Or some old documents? Maybe she’s trying to pull something off with the help of her ‘friend’ Grigory Petrovich?”
They decided to act immediately. Slavik called the real estate company whose logo was in the photo and introduced himself as a potential client interested in buying a dacha in their area. After several minutes of conversation, it turned out that no one from the agency had actually gone out to appraise their property.
“Strange,” Slavik said after hanging up. “Maybe it was another company and the logo just looked similar?”
“Or your mother arranged something unofficially with someone,” Veronika suggested. “In any case, we need to stay alert.”
That same evening, they received an unexpected invitation from Valeria Ivanovna to a family dinner.
“I want to apologize to you,” she said in an unusually humble tone. “I was wrong. Please come on Saturday. Only the closest family will be there — Lyudmila with her husband, Nikolai Stepanovich, and the two of you.”
Slavik was touched.
“See? Mom understood everything. She wants to make peace.”
Veronika was more skeptical, but agreed to go for her husband’s sake.
The dinner began in a friendly atmosphere. Valeria Ivanovna was all kindness, serving Slavik’s favorite dishes and even giving Veronika a few compliments. But gradually the conversation shifted to the dacha.
“I keep thinking, children,” Valeria Ivanovna said thoughtfully, “why do you need that dacha? So much trouble, the mortgage, and you hardly ever go there because of work.”
“We do go there,” Veronika objected. “Just not recently.”
“What if you sold it?” Nikolai Stepanovich suddenly suggested. “Country real estate prices are good now. You could close the mortgage and still have enough left for a good car.”
“Or a bigger apartment in the city,” Lyudmila added. “You may soon need more space.”
Veronika tensed. Where were they going with this?
“We like our dacha,” she said firmly. “We are not going to sell it.”
“Of course, it’s your decision,” Valeria Ivanovna smiled. “I just thought… Grigory Petrovich — remember, I told you about him, Slavik? — he is a realtor, and he says that such a property could bring in very good money. Especially if it’s improved a little, if the house is renovated.”
So that was it. Veronika and Slavik exchanged glances. Now everything fell into place — the visit with the “landscape designer” and the strange people with the tape measure.
“Mom,” Slavik’s voice sounded unusually cold, “we are not selling the dacha. Not now, not in the foreseeable future. And we would prefer that you not discuss our property with strangers.”
Valeria Ivanovna’s face changed instantly.
“There you go again! I only want to help! You are young, inexperienced, and I am thinking about your future!”
“No, Mom,” Slavik shook his head. “You are thinking about your future. We saw the realtor with a tape measure at our property. And Grigory Petrovich is not a landscape designer, but a realtor, according to your own words.”
Valeria Ivanovna was taken aback for a moment but quickly pulled herself together.
“Well, yes, he is both. A multi-skilled specialist! And anyway, I already apologized for that incident with the anniversary. Why are you starting all over again?”
“Because you won’t stop trying to control our property,” Veronika intervened. “First the anniversary, now the sale. What’s next?”
“Veronika!” Valeria Ivanovna exclaimed. “How can you speak to me like that? Slavik, are you really going to let her treat your mother this way?”
But Slavik was unyielding.
“Mom, let’s be honest. You tried to arrange the sale of our dacha behind our backs. That is a fact. And we want you to stop interfering in our lives this way.”
“Oh my God, such ingratitude!” Valeria Ivanovna threw up her hands theatrically. “After everything I’ve done for you!”
The dinner was hopelessly ruined. On the way home, Slavik and Veronika drove in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
“You know,” Slavik finally said, “I keep thinking that Mom will never change. She will always try to control my life. Our life.”
“Perhaps,” Veronika nodded. “But now we know what to expect, and we can protect ourselves.”
Three months passed. During that time, Valeria Ivanovna made several more attempts to “reconcile” Slavik and Veronika with the idea of selling the dacha. She sent realtors who “accidentally” called them with profitable offers. She organized a visit from a district inspector, who hinted at “serious violations” in the layout of the property. She even tried to convince the bank that had issued their mortgage that they were behind on payments.
But each of these attempts failed, meeting the couple’s determined resistance. They checked all the documents, made sure that legally the dacha belonged only to them, and hired a security company to patrol the property periodically.
After yet another failed maneuver, Valeria Ivanovna changed tactics. She began demonstratively ignoring Veronika and complaining to all the relatives about her “hard-hearted daughter-in-law” who had “destroyed their family.”
Some relatives fell for these manipulations. Lyudmila openly took her mother’s side and stopped communicating with Slavik. Others, however, began to understand the true state of things, especially after Valeria Ivanovna tried to pull a similar scheme with the apartment of Slavik’s cousin.
One weekend, Veronika and Slavik finally went to the dacha. The day was clear and warm. They walked around the property, assessing the damage caused over the winter and planning the spring work.
“We’ll have to completely restore this corner of the garden,” Veronika sighed, looking at the trampled lawn. “And think about a new fence.”
“But imagine how beautiful it will be here by summer,” Slavik put his arm around her shoulders. “And no more surprises.”
They were sitting on the porch, enjoying the silence and peace, when a car pulled up to the gate. It was Nikolai Stepanovich, Valeria Ivanovna’s brother.
“You won’t chase away an old man, will you?” he asked awkwardly. “I wanted to talk.”
They invited him into the house. Nikolai Stepanovich hesitated for a long time before getting to the point.
“I came to apologize,” he finally forced out. “For that anniversary and everything else. Valeria has always been… persistent. But lately she has crossed every line.”
He told them that Valeria Ivanovna had been manipulating relatives for many years, using their guilt and family ties. And that her plan with the dacha had been larger than they thought.
“She made an agreement with Grigory Petrovich that if the deal went through, he would pay her a percentage of the amount. A considerable percentage,” Nikolai Stepanovich shook his head. “And she would have told you it was all for your own good.”
“Why did you decide to tell us?” Veronika asked.
“Because I’m tired of being an accomplice,” the old man answered simply. “And because I see how she is destroying your family. Slavik, you’re a good man. And Veronika is good too. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.”
After Nikolai Stepanovich left, Slavik sat silently for a long time, staring out the window.
“What are we going to do?” Veronika finally asked.
“What we should have done long ago,” he answered decisively. “Set clear boundaries. Mom will remain in my life, but on our terms. No interference in our affairs, no manipulation, no attempts to turn relatives against us.”
“And if she doesn’t agree?”
“Then we’ll have to limit contact to a minimum,” Slavik took Veronika’s hand. “I love my mother, but I will not allow her to destroy our family.”
The next day, they called Valeria Ivanovna and invited her to talk. But not at their home, and not at hers — on neutral ground, in a café in the city center.
Valeria Ivanovna arrived with an air of wounded dignity.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked coldly, sitting down at the table.
“Yes, Mom,” Slavik was serious and composed. “We want to clarify the situation once and for all. We know about your plan to sell our dacha through Grigory Petrovich. We know about the percentage you were supposed to receive.”
Valeria Ivanovna turned pale.
“Who told you that lie?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Slavik shook his head. “What matters is that it is true. And that it was not the first or the last time you tried to interfere in our life.”
“I only wanted to help!” Valeria Ivanovna exclaimed. “Can a mother not care for her son?”
“She can,” Slavik agreed. “But not like this. Not through deception and manipulation. Mom, I love you. You are my mother, and that will never change. But if you want to be part of my life — of our life,” he pointed to Veronika, “you must respect our decisions and our boundaries.”
“What boundaries?” Valeria Ivanovna snorted. “You are my son! There can be no boundaries between a mother and son!”
“There can and there must be,” Veronika said softly. “Especially when a son creates his own family.”
They laid out their conditions: no visits without warning, no discussion of their property with outsiders, no attempts to turn relatives against them. In return, they promised regular meetings, shared holidays, and sincere care.
Valeria Ivanovna listened with a stone face. When they finished, she was silent for a long time, then said:
“You are giving me an ultimatum? To me, your mother?”
“No, Mom,” Slavik sighed. “We are offering you healthy relationships instead of what is happening now.”
“Healthy relationships?” Valeria Ivanovna smiled bitterly. “This is all her,” she nodded toward Veronika. “She turned you against me. Before, you never…”
“Mom, stop,” Slavik interrupted firmly. “This is my decision. Our decision. And if you cannot respect it, then it really would be better for us to limit communication for a while.”
Valeria Ivanovna stood up, proudly straightening her shoulders.
“Fine. I see that my son no longer needs me. I won’t interfere with you.”
She left without looking back. Slavik watched her go, pain and resolve visible in his eyes at the same time.
“Do you think she understood?” Veronika asked when they were alone.
“I don’t know,” Slavik answered honestly. “But I did everything I could. Now the decision is hers.”
In the following weeks, Valeria Ivanovna demonstratively avoided them. She didn’t call, didn’t visit, and didn’t even send messages through relatives. Some in the family thought Slavik and Veronika had acted too harshly. Others, on the contrary, supported them, understanding that it was impossible to continue tolerating manipulation and interference.
Slavik and Veronika slowly restored their dacha. They planted new flowers where the old ones had been trampled, repaired the fence, and changed the locks on all the doors. They did not know whether they would ever reconcile with Valeria Ivanovna. They did not know whether she would be able to change and accept their conditions. But they knew one thing for certain: they would no longer allow anyone, not even the closest people, to cross the boundaries of their family.
And Valeria Ivanovna… Well, she had a choice to make. And that choice would determine whether she would remain part of her son’s and his wife’s lives, or be left alone with her manipulations and resentments.
But that is another story entirely.