“When Your Son Buys His Own Country House, Then You Can Come for the Summer”
Dasha stood on the porch of her new country house and breathed in the scent of pine trees. Finally, Five years of saving, endless conversations about loans, arguments with Maxim — and now here it was, their own piece of land. A small but cozy house, a plot with young apple trees, and a view of the lake. A dream.
“Max, can you imagine? In the summer we’ll put a hammock here,” she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“And I’m already imagining grilling shashlik on that barbecue,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
They had just carried in the last box when an old Lada rolled into the yard. Dasha frowned. The car was familiar.
Lyudmila Petrovna, Dasha’s mother-in-law, climbed out wearing a bright dress and carrying a huge bag. Behind her came Maxim’s younger brother, Igor, with a cigarette between his teeth, and his wife Katya, who immediately pulled out her phone and started typing furiously.
“Well, here we are!” Lyudmila Petrovna spread her arms as if expecting applause. “We decided to visit you, and at the same time get some rest. The city is unbearable in this heat, and here you have…” she looked around, “well, it’s modest, but it’ll do.”
Dasha felt her fingers go cold. They had not even called.
“Mom, you didn’t say you were coming…” Maxim faltered.
“What, do I have to submit a report now?” his mother snorted. “Are we family or not?”
Meanwhile, Igor was already carrying their suitcases into the house.
“Hey, where’s the fridge?” he shouted from the kitchen. “Need to cool the beer. It shook around on the road and got warm.”
Katya walked past Dasha without looking up from her phone and tossed out:
“Oh, by the way, do you have Wi-Fi here? I need to upload content.”
Dasha clenched her fists. They were behaving as if this were their house.
“Maxim,” she said quietly but clearly. “Are they planning to live here?”
He rubbed his forehead, avoiding her eyes.
“Well… just for a couple of days… Mom doesn’t ask often.”
“A couple of days?” Dasha looked at the suitcases. There were enough of them for at least a week.
Meanwhile, Lyudmila Petrovna was already unpacking her things in the bedroom.
“Oh, Dasha, you don’t mind if we stay here, do you?” she called. “That little room has such a hard sofa, and my back hurts.”
Dasha spun around to face Maxim.
“Are you serious?”
He sighed.
“Come on, what’s the big deal… Let them stay. It’s only a week.”
“No, Maxim,” her voice trembled. “This is our house. And if you don’t tell them right now that they are guests here, then I will. And you won’t like it.”
Tension hung in the air.
Then the sound of broken dishes came from the kitchen.
“Oh, damn!” Katya laughed. “Well, whatever, it’s nothing. It wasn’t expensive, right?”
Dasha slowly exhaled.
Everything was only beginning.
The morning began with a loud slam of the door. Dasha flinched and opened her eyes. The sun had barely broken through the curtains, but the house was already filled with noise.
She threw on a robe and stepped into the hallway. Loud laughter and the smell of fried bacon were coming from the kitchen.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Lyudmila Petrovna was standing at the stove, flipping eggs. “We’ve almost made everything already. You just make the coffee, because I don’t understand that machine of yours.”
Dasha silently looked at the table. It was obvious they had cooked only for themselves: two plates already piled high with food, croissants, bacon…
“Did it not occur to you that we might also want breakfast?” she asked, trying to stay calm.
“Oh, but you’re on a diet,” her mother-in-law waved her off. “And Maxim can heat something up himself when he wakes up.”
Igor’s voice came from the living room:
“Dasha, where’s the TV remote? Nothing here makes sense, just your weird movies.”
She took a deep breath.
“In the desk drawer.”
“I didn’t find it.”
“Under the magazine.”
“Oh, here it is.”
The sound of a football match blasted at full volume.
Dasha made herself coffee and sat down on the porch steps. A minute later, Maxim joined her. He looked rumpled and clearly sleep-deprived.
“Running away too?” she asked, unable to hold back a faint smirk.
“Are they always like this?” he rubbed his face with his hand.
“You never noticed before?”
Maxim sighed.
“All right, it’s only a couple of days…”
“Maxim,” Dasha turned to him. “They took our bedroom. They eat our food without asking. They turn the TV on full volume at seven in the morning. These are not ‘guests.’ These are occupiers.”
He rubbed his temples.
“I just… don’t want to fight.”
“And you think I do?”
At that moment the door flew open, and Katya ran out onto the porch.
“Oh, there you are!” she smiled, though her eyes remained cold. “Dasha, do you have an iPhone charger? I forgot mine.”
“In the bedroom, top drawer.”
“Could you bring it? My nail polish just dried…” she showed off her fresh manicure.
Dasha slowly stood up.
“Katya, are you aware that there are legs in this house?”
Katya froze for a second, then gave a fake laugh.
“Oh, look at you! Fine, I’ll get it myself.”
She disappeared into the house, loudly stomping in her heels.
Maxim reached for a cigarette.
“Damn… Maybe I really should tell them to…”
“To what?” came Lyudmila Petrovna’s voice. She was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. “To leave? Is this how you welcome your own son? I raised you for thirty years, and you…”
“Mom, it’s just…” Maxim stopped helplessly.
“Nothing ‘just’ about it!” his mother snapped, turning sharply toward Dasha. “You’re turning him against us!”
Dasha stood up.
“Lyudmila Petrovna, you arrived without warning. You took our bedroom. You…”
“Oh, enough!” she waved her hand sharply. “You are so ungrateful! We’re family!”
“Family doesn’t behave like this!”
Silence.
Lyudmila Petrovna’s expression suddenly changed.
“Fine,” she took a step back. “If that’s what you want, we’ll leave. And Maxim will come with us.”
She turned sharply and went back into the house.
Maxim jumped up.
“Dasha…”
“Go,” she said without looking at him. “Deal with your family.”
He hesitated for a second, then followed his mother.
Dasha was left alone.
Something inside her tightened into a knot.
But she knew this was only the beginning.
Dasha stood in the doorway of the living room and could not believe her eyes. On the floor, among shards of porcelain, lay her favorite vase — the last gift from her mother before she passed away. And above it stood Katya, bent over, with a carefree smirk.
“Why are you looking at me like I’m a criminal?” Katya shrugged. “It fell by itself when I was opening the curtains.”
Dasha slowly stepped closer. Every shard seemed to cut into her soul. She bent down and picked up one fragment that still had part of the floral pattern on it.
“Do you know how old it was?” Dasha asked quietly. “Over a hundred years. My mother’s grandmother protected it…”
“Oh, enough!” Katya snorted. “What difference does it make? It was just some trinket anyway. Maxim said you have plenty of junk from your dead mommy.”
Dasha straightened sharply. Blood pounded in her ears.
“Out.” She pointed to the door with a trembling hand. “Get out of my house right now.”
Katya rolled her eyes.
“Oh, shut up! This isn’t your house, it’s a family house! Lyudmila Petrovna said…”
“I said — OUT!” Dasha shouted so loudly that Katya instinctively recoiled.
The others came running at the noise. Lyudmila Petrovna immediately stepped between them.
“What is going on here?”
“She!” Katya pointed at Dasha. “She started yelling at me over some old wreck of a vase!”
Dasha silently held out the patterned shard to her mother-in-law. The woman glanced at it and immediately waved it away.
“So what? She broke it, it happens. What, did you discover some holy relic?”
Maxim stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. Dasha looked at him, searching for support, but he lowered his eyes.
“Maxim…” she began.
“Dasha, honestly,” he interrupted, “maybe it’s not worth it over a vase…”
Suddenly she understood everything. She took a deep breath.
“Fine,” Dasha said calmly. “Then I’ll leave. While they are here, I am not.”
Lyudmila Petrovna snorted.
“Then go. We’ll be calmer without you.”
Dasha turned and went to the bedroom. Behind her, Katya’s voice rang out:
“Is she serious? What a psycho!”
Dasha closed the door and leaned against it. Tears filled her eyes, but she did not let them fall. She took out her phone and called a taxi. Then she began packing.
Half an hour later, she walked into the hallway with a suitcase. Maxim was sitting in the kitchen with his head in his hands.
“I… I’ll come back when they’re gone,” Dasha said.
He nodded silently without looking up.
When the taxi pulled away, Dasha looked at the house one last time. Lyudmila Petrovna’s figure hovered in the living room window. She watched Dasha leave with a satisfied smile.
But the worst was waiting for Dasha later. When she returned an hour later for the documents she had forgotten, she heard her mother-in-law’s voice through the slightly open bedroom door:
“Let her go. You get divorced — half the house is yours, and we’ll take the other half through court. I’ve already consulted…”
Dasha froze. Then she quietly stepped back and left.
Now she knew — this was war.
Dasha sat in her friend Lena’s empty apartment and looked out the window. Rain tapped against the glass, as if counting down the time since the quarrel. Three days had passed. Maxim had not called.
Her phone lay on the table in front of her. The last message was from Lyudmila Petrovna:
“You are destroying the family. Think about what you’ve done.”
She picked up the phone and dialed her husband’s number. Long rings. Finally, he answered.
“Dasha…” His voice sounded tired.
“Did you see your mother’s message?”
“Yes… She’s just worried.”
“She’s worried?” Dasha bit her lip. “Maxim, I heard what she was talking about. About dividing the house.”
Silence. Then a heavy sigh.
“You misunderstood…”
“I understood everything correctly. They want to take our house away.”
“Dasha, those were just words…”
“No, Maxim. It’s a plan.”
She hung up. Her hands were shaking.
An hour later, the doorbell rang. Maxim stood on the threshold. He was soaked, his eyes red.
“I can’t live without you,” he whispered.
“And them?”
“They stayed at the country house.”
Dasha silently let him in.
“I didn’t know they were planning something like that,” he said, sitting on the sofa and gripping his head in his hands. “Mom said you made everything up…”
“And you believed her.”
“I… I don’t know.”
Dasha sat beside him.
“Then listen to this.”
She took out her phone and turned on the voice recorder. Lyudmila Petrovna’s voice rang out clearly:
“You get divorced — half the house is yours, and we’ll take the other half through court…”
Maxim turned pale.
“Where did you…”
“I came back for my documents. And I recorded it.”
He stood up and began pacing the room.
“God… They… they really…”
“Now do you understand?”
Maxim turned sharply to her.
“We’ll sell the country house.”
“What?”
“We’ll sell it and buy another one. Without them.”
Dasha shook her head.
“No. This is our house. And we are not giving it up.”
“But how…”
“We’ll fight. Together.”
He looked at her, and determination appeared in his eyes.
“All right. Together.”
At that moment Maxim’s phone rang. The screen showed: “Mom.”
They exchanged a glance.
“Don’t answer,” Dasha said.
He placed the phone on the table and hugged her.
And the ringing did not stop.
The morning began with a loud knock at the door. Dasha looked at the clock — 7:30. Maxim was still asleep after his night shift. She threw on a robe and went to the door.
“Who is it?”
“Open up, dear!” came the familiar voice from behind the door.
Dasha took a deep breath and turned the key. Lyudmila Petrovna stood on the threshold in a new coat, with a manicure and styled hair. Igor lingered behind her.
“Well? Are you greeting me like family?” her mother-in-law walked into the apartment without invitation, looking around with exaggerated interest. “Cozy. Though it could be better if my son lived decently.”
Dasha blocked her path to the bedroom.
“Maxim is sleeping. He worked all night.”
“Oh, poor thing!” Lyudmila Petrovna snorted loudly. “And what, I didn’t work nights when I was raising him?”
There was noise from the bedroom. A minute later Maxim appeared in the doorway, sleepy and disheveled.
“Mom? What happened?”
“What a welcome!” his mother spread her arms. “A son doesn’t call his mother for three days, doesn’t answer calls! I already thought you were in the hospital!”
Maxim rubbed his eyes.
“I was at work…”
“You’re lying!” Lyudmila Petrovna stepped toward him sharply. “You were with her! You abandoned your own mother for this…” She threw a poisonous look at Dasha.
Dasha met her husband’s eyes. He looked confused, but there was resolve in his gaze.
“Mom, enough,” he said quietly. “Dasha and I discussed everything. And I know about your plans for the country house.”
Lyudmila Petrovna froze for a second, then gave a fake laugh.
“What plans? What are you talking about?”
“I heard your conversation,” Dasha said clearly. “And I recorded it.”
Her mother-in-law snapped her head toward her.
“You were eavesdropping? How disgusting!” she took a step forward, but Maxim stood between them.
“Enough, Mom. We are not selling the country house. And we are not getting divorced.”
Lyudmila Petrovna’s face twisted. She suddenly changed tactics.
“Son,” her voice became sugary, “you understand I was only thinking of your well-being. She is not right for you! Look at her — no family, no status…”
“Mom!” Maxim raised his voice for the first time in many years. “She is my wife. And if you ever again…”
“What? If I ever do it again what?” his mother suddenly burst into tears. “So that’s how it is! Now your own mother is your enemy? After everything I did for you? I saved you from starving when your father was drinking!”
Igor, who had been silent until then, suddenly cut in:
“Come on, Max, Mom is just worried. Apologize to her.”
Dasha watched the scene with cold calm. She saw Maxim wavering under the pressure of their emotions.
“That’s enough,” she said sharply. “I’m done. Lyudmila Petrovna, you came into my home and insulted me. Leave. Right now.”
Her mother-in-law looked at her son, waiting for his reaction. But Maxim was silent.
“Do you… do you hear how she is talking to me?” she sobbed.
“I hear it,” Maxim answered quietly. “And I am asking you to leave. Both of you.”
Lyudmila Petrovna’s face turned crimson.
“So that’s how it is! Fine! But remember, Maxim,” she pointed a shaking finger at him, “as long as I’m alive, you will answer me for this! And for the country house too!”
She spun around and left, slamming the door. Igor shot them a hateful look and followed her.
Silence settled over the apartment. Maxim sank onto the sofa, his hands trembling. Dasha sat beside him.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He looked at her with wet eyes.
“Forgive me… for all these years…”
Dasha embraced him. Outside the window, the rain grew heavier, tapping against the windowsill as if trying to hammer the final word into that difficult conversation.
But they both knew — this was only the beginning of the war. The real battle still lay ahead.
Three days passed after Lyudmila Petrovna’s visit. Dasha was checking the mail when she noticed a strange message from their country-house neighbor:
“Dasha, do you know your plot is for sale? There’s an ad hanging on the fence…”
An icy wave rolled down her spine. She immediately called Maxim.
“Did you list the country house for sale?”
“What? Of course not!” He sounded genuinely surprised.
“Then go there right now. Our fence is decorated with a sale notice.”
An hour later, the phone rang. Maxim spoke in a tight voice:
“It’s Mom. She… she glued up the ad. ‘Urgent sale, inheritance dispute.’”
Dasha gripped the phone.
“Take a photo and tear it down. I’m calling a lawyer.”
That evening, a lawyer named Sergei, an old friend of Dasha’s family, came to their apartment. He carefully studied the photos and the documents for the house.
“Technically, they can’t do anything,” he concluded. “The house is registered to the two of you. But…” he paused, “prepare yourselves for dirty methods.”
As if confirming his words, that same evening the family chat exploded with messages from Maxim’s relatives:
“How could you throw your mother out onto the street!”
“Dasha will ruin you!”
“A disgrace to the family!”
Maxim silently left the chat. His phone immediately rang — it was his uncle, a retired judge.
“Don’t answer,” Dasha warned.
But Maxim had already picked up.
“Uncle Vitya, I…”
“Boy, have you completely lost your conscience?” a hoarse voice thundered through the phone. “Your mother is in tears, the family is in shock! Apologize immediately and put everything back the way it was!”
Maxim turned pale, but answered firmly:
“Uncle, you don’t know the whole situation.”
“I know that a son owes his mother!” his uncle barked and hung up.
Dasha wrapped her arms around her husband’s shoulders. He was trembling.
“They… they’ve been like this my whole life,” he whispered. “They attack, pressure, force…”
Suddenly Dasha’s phone vibrated. An unknown number. She answered.
“Hello?”
“It’s Katya,” came a sweet voice. “Listen, Dasha, maybe enough of this war? Let’s meet and discuss it woman to woman.”
Dasha froze.
“Katya, after you called my mother’s vase ‘junk’?”
“Oh, don’t be such a child!” Katya laughed. “Fine, Maxim will regret it himself. By the way,” her voice turned poisonous, “did he tell you he borrowed money from Igor last year? With interest? A court would recognize that debt…”
Dasha sharply hung up. Maxim stared at her with wide eyes.
“What did she say?”
“That you owe Igor money. Is that true?”
He lowered his head.
“Yes… fifty thousand. But I paid back almost all of it!”
“Almost?”
“There’s fifteen left… I thought it was between brothers…”
Dasha closed her eyes. Now everything was clear. It was a trap.
“We’re paying that money back tomorrow,” she said. “And now…” she took her laptop, “we’re writing a post on social media. With all the facts.”
Maxim raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Publicly? But that’s…”
“Self-defense,” Dasha said firmly. “Otherwise they’ll eat us alive.”
She opened the editor and began typing:
“Dear friends, we are forced to share an unpleasant story…”
Maxim silently watched as a truthful but terrifying story of manipulation and betrayal took shape on the screen. When she finished, he said quietly:
“Press ‘publish.’”
That night the phone was bursting with notifications. The post was being shared hundreds of times. Messages came from friends, colleagues, even distant relatives:
“We didn’t believe Lyuda could do something like that…”
“Igor has owed me money since university, he’s a fraud!”
“Stay strong, we’re with you!”
But at 3:23 a.m., a message came from Lyudmila Petrovna:
“You will regret this. Truly regret it.”
Dasha turned off her phone. Tomorrow would be a new day. And a new battle.
The morning began with a phone call from the district police officer. The voice on the other end sounded official and dry:
“Citizen Sokolova, a complaint has been filed against you for disturbing public order. Noise at night, insults toward elderly people. Do you know anything about this?”
Dasha gripped the phone.
“That is a lie. We are in the city, and our ‘elderly relatives’ are currently occupying our country house illegally.”
“So you confirm there is a conflict?” the officer clearly became interested.
“I confirm it, but from an entirely different side. I have audio recordings and screenshots of threats.”
After the call, Dasha woke Maxim. They ate breakfast in silence, both understanding that today they would have to go to the country house.
The drive took two hours. When they arrived, an unpleasant surprise awaited them — there was a new lock on the gate.
“What the hell…” Maxim yanked at the gate.
Lyudmila Petrovna came out of the house in a robe, holding a cup:
“Oh, the new owners have arrived!” she shouted with false cheer. “Only here’s the problem — we are registered here now. So this is our house.”
Dasha felt her hands go cold. Maxim turned pale.
“Registered? How? That’s impossible!”
“All according to the law, son!” his mother smiled smugly. “We have a lease agreement. Notarized.”
Igor appeared behind her with a stack of papers.
“Here, take a look. You signed it yourself, brother, a year ago. Without reading it, as always.”
Maxim grabbed the documents. Dasha looked over his shoulder — among the papers there really was an agreement with signatures.
“This is a forgery!” Maxim shook with rage. “I never…”
“Prove it,” Igor smirked.
Dasha suddenly remembered.
“Sergei! Our lawyer!” She immediately dialed his number.
While the lawyer studied the situation over the phone, Lyudmila Petrovna continued standing in the doorway with a triumphant look.
“Well, clever ones? Who’s right now?”
The answer came unexpectedly. Their country-house neighbor, Nikolai Ivanovich, a retired lawyer, stepped out of his car.
“Lyudmila Petrovna, do you know that forging documents is a criminal offense? Especially with notarization involved.”
For a moment, her mother-in-law looked unsettled, but she quickly pulled herself together.
“What forgery? Everything is legal!”
“Then show us the original agreement,” Nikolai Ivanovich said calmly. “And the notarial certificate.”
Igor shifted nervously from foot to foot. Lyudmila Petrovna’s face suddenly changed.
“To hell with all of you! You won’t prove anything anyway!”
She slammed the door. But a minute later, the door opened again — pale Katya stood on the threshold with a suitcase.
“I… I don’t want anything to do with this,” she muttered and quickly headed toward the gate.
Dasha and Maxim exchanged a glance. At that moment the phone rang — Sergei had found the solution.
“This agreement is invalid. First, your signatures were needed too, Dasha. Second, they don’t have the original with a notarial seal. This is an obvious forgery.”
Maxim walked firmly up to the door.
“Mom, open up. This is our house. Or we call the police right now.”
Silence. Then the lock clicked. Lyudmila Petrovna came out with her things, her face twisted with rage.
“You will regret this, son. Blood against blood is a bad omen.”
Igor threw the keys onto the ground.
“Take your wreck of a house!”
When their car disappeared around the bend, Dasha took a deep breath. They had won this round. But one unresolved question hung in the air:
“Maxim… what did she mean by ‘blood against blood’?”
He silently shook his head, watching them drive away. In his eyes there was understanding — this was not over.
Two weeks had passed since Lyudmila Petrovna and Igor left the country house. It seemed that everything had calmed down. Dasha and Maxim began putting the house in order: they changed the locks, installed cameras, and ordered new ownership documents.
But one evening, as they were sitting on the veranda drinking tea, the gate bell rang.
“Who could that be?” Dasha frowned, looking at the camera screen.
On the monitor, an elderly woman in a modest dress was visible, holding a bag. A stranger.
Maxim went out to meet her. Dasha watched through the window as he spoke with the woman, then suddenly turned pale and quickly returned.
“It’s… Aunt Shura,” he said, stumbling over his words. “Mom’s sister. From Voronezh.”
“And what does she want?”
“She brought a letter… from Mom.”
A chill ran down Dasha’s spine.
Aunt Shura entered the house, looking around timidly.
“I don’t want trouble,” she said immediately. “I’m just delivering it.”
She took an envelope from her bag and handed it to Maxim.
He opened it with trembling hands. Inside was one sentence, written in crooked handwriting:
“If you do not voluntarily give me half of the country house, I will file for alimony. By law, you are obligated to support your mother. And the amount will be so high that you’ll have to sell.”
Dasha jumped up.
“This is blackmail!”
Aunt Shura lowered her eyes.
“She said this was your last chance…”
Maxim crumpled the letter.
“Enough. ENOUGH!” He slammed his fist onto the table so hard the dishes rang. “I will not let her destroy our lives anymore!”
Aunt Shura flinched.
“She… she has always been like this,” she whispered. “Since childhood. If something didn’t go her way — straight into a fight.”
“Why did you stay silent before?” Dasha asked.
“I was afraid…”
Maxim suddenly raised his head.
“And now?”
Aunt Shura slowly took an old notebook out of her bag.
“Because I have this.”
She opened the notebook to a marked page. There were records inside — dates, amounts, names.
“These are… your mother’s ‘schemes.’ How she sued her sister for her house. How she forced your grandmother out of her apartment. Everything is written down.”
Dasha and Maxim exchanged a glance.
“Are you ready to testify?” he asked.
Aunt Shura nodded.
“I’m tired of being afraid.”
A month later.
The court hearing did not last long. Lyudmila Petrovna never appeared at the hearings, citing “health reasons.” But Aunt Shura, the neighbors, Maxim’s colleagues — they all confirmed the manipulations and threats.
The claim for alimony was rejected. Moreover, the court forbade Lyudmila Petrovna from approaching their house.
When they walked out of the courthouse, the sun was shining brightly.
“Is this the end?” Dasha asked.
Maxim took her hand.
“No. It’s the beginning.”
They walked down the street without looking back.
And in Dasha’s pocket lay the key to their house — now forever.
A year later, a new sign appeared at the country house:
“Protected property. No trespassing.”
And on social media, Lyudmila Petrovna continued writing angry posts about ungrateful children.
But now there were only three comments under them.
And all three were from relatives who had finally stopped being afraid.