“She’s Not Good Enough for Us,” the Mother-in-Law Raged—Until She Learned What the Bride’s Parents Had Given Them
The wedding invitations lay fanned out across the table, their cream-colored envelopes decorated with gold embossing. Larisa Petrovna pursed her lips in disgust as she examined the bride’s photograph on one of them.
“She’s not good enough for us,” she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time, addressing her husband, who was indifferently leafing through a newspaper. “Are you listening to me, Viktor? Our dear Igor could have found anyone! He’s a promising young man, works for a respectable company, has an apartment and a car…”
“We have the apartment,” Viktor muttered without looking up from his newspaper.
“Exactly!” Larisa Petrovna said enthusiastically. “We’ve provided him with everything. We’ve devoted our entire lives to him! And what does he do? He brings home some Nastya from the provinces. She came rushing to the capital, probably hoping to catch herself a wealthy husband. I can see right through girls like her!”
“Larisa, calm down,” Viktor said, finally putting the newspaper aside. “Igor is an adult. He’ll figure it out himself.”
“An adult!” his wife snorted. “He’s planning to marry the first girl who came along.”
In reality, Igor had met Nastya almost a year earlier at a conference. She worked for a large logistics company, was intelligent and well educated, and bore no resemblance whatsoever to the gold digger from his mother’s nightmares. But Larisa Petrovna had already reached her verdict and had no intention of changing it.
Whenever Nastya came to visit them, her future mother-in-law greeted her with a strained smile that never reached her eyes.
“So, where do your parents live?” she would ask with false concern, even though she knew the answer perfectly well.
“In the Kurgan region,” Nastya would reply, trying to remain calm.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Larisa Petrovna would say with a nod. “Well, the provinces are the provinces. I suppose everything is cheaper and simpler there…”
“Mom, stop it,” Igor would warn her, but she would merely wave him away.
“What? I didn’t say anything offensive. I’m only interested.”
A month before the wedding, Larisa Petrovna threw a full-scale tantrum.
“Igor!” she shouted, waving her arms in the kitchen of their three-room apartment in a prestigious neighborhood. “Do you even understand what you’re doing? That girl arrived in Moscow with one suitcase! Her parents probably don’t own anything at all back in that village of hers!”
“It isn’t a village, Mom. It’s a regional capital,” Igor said wearily.
“I don’t care!” Larisa Petrovna was furious. “You’re tying your life to someone from a completely different social circle! Your father and I have connections and social standing. What do they have? Nothing!”
“I have love,” Igor said quietly.
“Love!” his mother mocked him. “You’ll live with her for a year or two, and then what? She’ll drag her entire family here and ask them to move in with us!”
“We aren’t planning to live with you either,” Igor replied sharply.
“Oh, is that so?” Larisa Petrovna clutched her chest. “So she has already turned you against your own mother! Thank you, son. Thank you for showing such gratitude!”
Nevertheless, the wedding went ahead.
Larisa Petrovna arrived at the restaurant looking like a victim being led to the executioner’s block. Her face expressed such suffering that the guests could not help turning to look at her.
Nastya’s parents had arrived the day before. Ivan Sergeyevich and Tatyana Nikolayevna were ordinary people in their early fifties—simple, friendly, and openhearted. He was a large man with a kind face and a firm handshake, while she was a pleasant-looking woman with a warm smile.
“It’s a great pleasure to meet you!” Ivan Sergeyevich said warmly, shaking Viktor’s hand and then Larisa Petrovna’s.
“Likewise,” the future mother-in-law said through clenched teeth, examining the other couple with an appraising stare.
Their clothes were good quality but not designer-made. Tatyana Nikolayevna carried a small handbag that clearly did not come from a famous fashion house. Larisa Petrovna celebrated inwardly. She had been right: provincial people, simple in every way.
During the wedding reception, Larisa Petrovna sat with a stony expression and barely touched her food. Whenever Nastya’s guests approached their table, she pretended to be polite. But the moment they walked away, she began whispering to her husband.
“Did you see those relatives of hers? One of the men came wearing some strange shirt. And that woman’s dress obviously came from an outdoor market. My God, what has our Igor gotten himself into?”
“Larisa, please be quiet,” Viktor begged her.
She became especially worked up when she saw the bride’s parents dancing cheerfully to old popular songs.
“Just look at them,” she hissed to a friend sitting beside her. “They’re dancing as though they’re at some village disco! No elegance, no culture! And now we’re supposed to become related to people like that!”
Meanwhile, Nastya’s parents were having a wonderful time. Ivan Sergeyevich happily chatted with the guests and told jokes, while Tatyana Nikolayevna wiped away tears during the newlyweds’ first dance. They were sincerely happy for their daughter, and that happiness was clearly written on their faces.
By the end of the evening, Larisa Petrovna had become completely convinced that her judgment had been correct. When Nastya and Igor approached their parents with flowers and words of gratitude, she demonstratively turned away.
“Thank you for everything,” Nastya said, embracing her mother while Tatyana Nikolayevna stroked her hair.
“Be happy, my dear daughter,” her mother whispered.
Larisa Petrovna grimaced.
“What provincial sentimentality,” she thought.
After the wedding, the newlyweds returned to Igor’s apartment, where he lived with his parents. The first few days passed in a tense atmosphere. Larisa Petrovna found fault with every little thing.
“Nastya, dear, don’t you know how to make coffee?” she would ask in a sugary voice. “Never mind, I’ll teach you. We’re accustomed to a certain level of quality here.”
Or she would say:
“Igor, perhaps the two of you should go out for dinner somewhere. That way Nastya can at least experience some of the capital’s lifestyle.”
Nastya blushed but remained silent. Igor boiled with anger but tried not to start an argument.
A week after the wedding, Igor and Nastya were sitting in the kitchen one evening when Larisa Petrovna came out of her room.
“Mom, we need to talk,” Igor began.
“About what?” his mother asked suspiciously.
“We’ve decided that… we’re going to move out,” he blurted.
Larisa Petrovna turned pale and then bright red.
“What?” she shrieked. “Move out? Where? You don’t have anything!”
“We do,” Nastya said calmly.
“What do you have?” Larisa Petrovna rushed toward her. “A room in a dormitory?”
“An apartment,” Igor said, placing some documents on the table. “A one-bedroom apartment in the Sokolniki district. It was a gift from Nastya’s parents.”
Larisa Petrovna grabbed the papers with trembling hands.
It was a property ownership certificate issued in the name of Nastasya Ivanovna Morozova. The address belonged to a newly built apartment complex in a desirable neighborhood.
“That can’t be true,” she whispered. “Where did they get that kind of money?”
“My father owned a large transportation company in the region,” Nastya explained calmly. “He had a business partner. Recently, Dad decided to leave the company because he wanted to spend more time with Mom and travel. His partner bought his share and partially paid him with this apartment. The partner owned several properties here in Moscow. Dad had been thinking about how to help me with housing in the capital, so he agreed to the arrangement.”
“A transportation company?” Larisa Petrovna lowered herself into a chair. “A business? But they seemed so… ordinary.”
“That’s because they’re normal people, Mom,” Igor said firmly. “They don’t flaunt their wealth or boast about their connections and social standing. They simply live their lives and enjoy them.”
“And now they’ll finally be able to relax,” Nastya added. “Dad has always dreamed of showing Mom the world. Now that everything has been settled with the company and we have a home in Moscow, they can finally afford to do it.”
Larisa Petrovna remained silent, staring at the documents. The color of her face slowly changed from white to red, and then from red to purple.
“So they… they have…” she muttered. “But I thought… I was certain…”
“That they were penniless villagers?” Igor could no longer restrain himself. “That Nastya was hunting for my money? Or for your apartment?”
“Igor!” Viktor, who had been silently listening from the other room, entered the kitchen. “Don’t speak to your mother like that!”
“How am I supposed to speak to her?” their son exploded. “She has been humiliating Nastya for months! She criticized every word she said. At the wedding, she discussed her parents behind their backs and called them simpletons!”
“I didn’t… I was only…” Larisa Petrovna blinked in confusion.
“You simply decided that you knew better than anyone what your son needed,” Nastya said, raising her voice for the first time. “You never even tried to get to know me. You never asked what I did for a living or what I had achieved. You saw a girl from the provinces and immediately decided that I was poor!”
“Nastya, calm down,” Igor said, taking his wife’s hand.
“No!” She stood up. “She needs to hear this! I graduated from university with honors. I worked for three years in the company’s regional office, and then I was transferred to Moscow because of my performance. I rented my own apartment and supported myself. I never asked Igor for money, and I never intended to live at his expense!”
“Nastya, dear, I didn’t mean to…” Larisa Petrovna began, but her daughter-in-law interrupted her.
“You did! That is exactly what you meant! You wanted to see me as an enemy, so that was what you saw!”
“Larisa,” Viktor said, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder, “she’s right. You went too far.”
Larisa Petrovna covered her face with her hands. For several minutes, silence filled the kitchen, broken only by her muffled sobs.
“When are you moving?” Viktor finally asked.
“This weekend,” Igor replied. “The apartment has already been renovated, and we’ve ordered the furniture.”
His father nodded.
“I understand.”
The following day, Larisa Petrovna suddenly transformed.
She burst into the newlyweds’ room with a radiant smile.
“Nastya! Igor! Why don’t I help you arrange your new apartment? I have such excellent taste and so much experience! We could go shopping together!”
Nastya looked at her coldly.
“Thank you, but we can manage on our own.”
“Oh, don’t be silly!” her mother-in-law chirped. “I only want to help! Besides, we really should get to know your parents better. They’re such wonderful people, and we hardly had a chance to talk at the wedding!”
“That’s strange,” Igor remarked. “At the wedding, you called them simpletons.”
Larisa Petrovna choked.
“Me? I never said that! You must have misheard me!”
“Mom, enough,” Igor said wearily. “Everything is perfectly clear. When you thought Nastya’s parents were poor, you had no interest in them. Now you’ve discovered that they have money, property, and a business, and suddenly you want to become friends.”
“No, you’ve misunderstood me!” Larisa Petrovna wrung her hands. “I simply… I was wrong, yes! I admit it! But now I want to make everything right!”
“It’s too late,” Nastya said sharply.
Several days later, Nastya’s parents called. Larisa Petrovna grabbed the phone before anyone else could answer it.
“Hello! Ivan Sergeyevich! Tatyana Nikolayevna! How wonderful to hear from you!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “When are you coming to Moscow again? We should meet and have dinner at a nice restaurant!”
“Hello, Larisa Petrovna,” Tatyana Nikolayevna replied politely. “Thank you for the invitation, but we’re preparing to go on a Mediterranean cruise. We’ve dreamed about it for a long time.”
“A cruise! How wonderful!” the mother-in-law squealed. “Perhaps Viktor and I could join you. We could keep you company!”
Nastya, who had been listening to the conversation, took the telephone from her.
“Hi, Mom. Don’t pay any attention to her. You and Dad enjoy yourselves and get some rest. Igor and I will take care of the move.”
“All right, sweetheart,” Tatyana Nikolayevna said, clearly delighted to hear her daughter’s voice. “Give Igor our best. And don’t worry about anything.”
When Nastya ended the call, Larisa Petrovna cried out indignantly.
“How could you do that? I wanted to speak to them!”
“About what?” Nastya turned toward her. “About how simple they are and how incompatible they are with your social circle? Or about how their daughter was hunting for a wealthy husband from Moscow?”
“Nastya, please!” Her mother-in-law even clasped her hands together as though praying. “I understand everything now! I was wrong! Let’s start again with a clean slate!”
“No,” Nastya said calmly. “You showed us your true face. Now we know exactly what kind of person you are.”
“Igor!” Larisa Petrovna pleaded. “Say something to her!”
Her son put his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“Mom, Nastya is right. You tormented her for months. You humiliated her. You insulted her and her family. Now that you know they have money, you suddenly want to become friends with them. That’s called hypocrisy.”
“But I’m your mother!” Larisa Petrovna exclaimed, throwing up her hands.
“And that’s why we will continue to have a relationship with you,” Igor replied with a nod. “But it will be the kind of relationship you chose yourself—formal and distant.”
That weekend, the young couple really did move out.
Their apartment was bright and comfortable, with fresh renovations and a view of the park. Nastya’s parents sent them a photograph from Barcelona. They were standing on the waterfront, happy and suntanned.
Larisa Petrovna tried several more times to repair the relationship. She came bearing gifts, offered her help, and invited them to family dinners. But Nastya and Igor remained polite and unwavering. They thanked her, but kept their distance.
One day, Viktor said to his wife:
“Larisa, leave them alone. You got what you deserved.”
“But I only wanted what was best!” she sobbed.
“No.” Her husband shook his head. “You wanted control. You wanted your daughter-in-law to be indebted to you and dependent on us. But she turned out to be independent and from a respectable family. You couldn’t accept her until you learned about the money.”
“Does that mean I’ll never see my grandchildren?” Larisa Petrovna asked bitterly.
“You’ll see them on holidays,” Viktor replied. “That is the price of your arrogance.”
Meanwhile, in the apartment in Sokolniki, Igor and Nastya sat together on their new sofa, drinking tea and making plans. The photograph from Nastya’s parents was displayed on the laptop screen.
“What do you think?” Igor asked. “When they come back, should we invite them to stay with us?”
“Of course,” Nastya said with a smile. “This is our home now. And only people who accept us as we are will be welcome here.”
Igor embraced his wife.
Outside the window, dusk was settling over the city, and the lamps in the park were beginning to glow. Somewhere in another neighborhood, Larisa Petrovna sat holding her telephone, rereading her son’s dry, one-word replies to her messages.
For the first time in many years, she understood that not everything in life could be bought and that money did not always determine a person’s worth.
But she had understood it too late, when there was no longer anything she could do to make things right.