Zhenya, don’t worry, everything will be fine,” Mikhail tried again to comfort his fiancée.
But Zhenya, her cheeks flushed either from the cold or from all the worries, put her hands on her hips and shook her head.
No, Misha, nothing will be fine. It won’t. Not with your mother involved.
What did you tell me when you took me to meet her, huh?
“Don’t worry, my mom will accept any woman I choose.”
But what’s happening right now doesn’t look like acceptance at all. Not in any way, shape, or form.
Zhenya, just try to hang in there a bit. My mom is just worried about me. Give it some time and she’ll calm down.
Misha, I don’t want to wait for all this to blow over. I want peace in our family NOW.
Because our wedding is in two months, and if things keep going this way—there’s literally no point for me to even marry you.
What do you mean?” Misha was stunned. “You dreamed about this for so long, and now you’re backing out?
We’ve already planned everything, the invitations are sent, and we’ve even bought your dress…
Don’t you dare bring up the dress right now! Just don’t!
Do you know what your precious mother said to me—right in the store?
When she and my mom took me dress shopping! I’ve told you this before…
Zhenya, it was just about some old tradition.
No, Misha. When a woman sees her potential daughter-in-law in a white dress and says something like THAT—that’s not about tradition at all.
That’s practically a direct insult.
“Girl, maybe you should pick a different color? A white dress stands for purity and moral virtue, and from what I understand, you’ve been with other men before Misha, so it wouldn’t really be right,” Zhenya quoted her.
That’s about the same as calling your future daughter-in-law a tramp! The poor shop assistants didn’t know where to look.
My mom said she almost lost it right then and there, only stopping herself because she didn’t want to look like a loudmouthed market lady.
Wait, did you just call my mom a loudmouthed market lady?
Who else is she, Misha? She acts exactly like one of those women at the market who just want to pressure you into buying overpriced junk.
And your mom—she just wants to ruin everything between us.
Think about it, where did all this start?
As soon as we announced we wanted to get married, do you remember what your mom said?
She didn’t say anything! Just something like, “Aren’t you rushing, kids?” It would be one thing if you were getting married because of a baby, but otherwise…
And that didn’t bother you at all? Like the fact that we’ve been living together for two years? And dating for a year and a half before that?
And that your mom met your dad in her first year of university, and by the second year they were already married?
I’m not judging her—I know, unlike your mom, that everyone lives their own way and you should just let them be.
But the pure double standards and that twisted logic are really stressing me out.
And what stresses me out is that you haven’t even married me yet—and there are already problems.
Well, your mom hasn’t even officially become my mother-in-law, and she’s already trying to boss me around. I seriously don’t need any of this, Misha.
If someone needs to put me in my place, that’s what my boss is for at work. And you know, at that job, I get paid pretty well—even to put up with his nonsense.
So are you hinting that I have to pay you just so you’ll be nice to my mom?
“No,” Evgenia exhaled in irritation.
Realizing that the conversation was going nowhere, she slipped the ring off her finger and placed it on the table.
“I’m not hinting, I’m saying it straight: I don’t need all this drama. There won’t be a wedding.”
I’m not willing to spend my life with someone who lets people walk all over me—or a man who allows his mother to do the same.
So that’s your idea of great, true love, huh?
The wives of the Decembrists followed their husbands to Siberia, but you can’t deal with my mother’s personality?
Exactly! Some people followed their loved ones into exile, and you can’t even protect me from your own mother.
I don’t need a partner like this, Misha. This conversation is over.
Frustrated and upset, Mikhail walked out of Evgenia’s apartment.
The ring felt heavy in his pocket, and trying to make sense of what had happened just didn’t add up at all.
After all, Zhenya always seemed normal to him. But since they started preparing for the wedding, it was like she’d revealed a completely different side.
How can she not get it? A mother is a mother, no matter what happens. Mikhail just can’t bring himself to cut her out of his life…
If his mom were one of those women who hits or abandons their kids, sure, that would be another story.
But she raised him alone, helped him get on his feet—without her, Misha wouldn’t have had anything.
And sure, maybe she’s gotten a bit moody with age…
“Hey, son. Why do you look so down, did something happen?” his mother greeted him at the door as soon as he got home.
“Zhenya gave the ring back. She says there won’t be a wedding.”
“Finally, you’re back with me again, darling,” his mother smiled, hugging Mikhail.
Maybe those words just slipped out before she could stop them, but Misha felt as if someone had doused him in ice-cold water.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned. “Did you set this all up on purpose?”
“Sweetheart, how could I? Your Zhenya is just too nervous—any tension at all and she’s right off into yelling, tears, scandals…”
“Think about it: how would you have lived with her? Built a family? Raised kids?”
“Imagine how many conflicts would come up over the years.”
“And if she reacted to every single thing like she did to my comment about her dress—what would that be like, hmm?”
“Alright, Martha, how about you be quiet for a second,” came a familiar commanding voice from the living room.
“Grandma?” Misha smiled.
Nobody had mentioned that his mother-in-law’s mother was visiting. “Hey, Grandma. You could’ve told us you’d be coming over.”
“I’m not here for you. I’m here for her. Gave birth to a daughter just to ruin her own life, and now she’s ruining her son’s too.”
“And what about you, grandson? Didn’t think you were that clueless,” his grandma, as usual, cut right to the chase, not caring how blunt she was.
She was always like that, so Mikhail had long learned how to extract her point from a stream of harsh words.
But this time, he just couldn’t figure out what her point was.
What do you mean?
“I mean what I mean,” Grandma joked crudely. “Got a light?” She pulled a pack of cheap cigarettes from her pocket.
No smoking in our house, Mom.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, how sensitive you all are! Let’s step outside, grandson, I’ll try to knock some sense into you—if I can find it.
Once outside, Misha got a long lecture about how, “Now your real family is your wife and your kids, and your mother moves into the ‘relatives’ category.”
About how, “You have to help your mom, but only a real jerk would allow her to insult his bride.”
And to top it off—”Just look at neighbor Tolya. He’s 50 and still alone, all because his loving mother keeps chasing away every daughter-in-law he gets.”
She dug into specific situations, too. Yes, telling an excited bride that a white dress doesn’t suit her because ‘she’s not a girl anymore’—only a complete fool would say that these days.
Times have changed, men and women have changed, and what was bad taste 150 years ago is par for the course now.
You didn’t rush Zhenya to the altar the first time you met her—it was after you two lived together for a while.
And before that, grandson, you weren’t exactly living a chaste life. So why on earth do you let your mom almost openly call your fiancée a slut?
And another thing…
When they returned to the apartment, Mikhail’s ears were burning. He went to his room, trying to calm down, but couldn’t help overhearing the noise coming from his mother’s room—Grandma was in there with her.
…if you’d been in therapy or rehab, or spent time in jail… but you haven’t, so what more do you want?
Your son is happy, let them sort it out themselves.
Did I say a single word when you brought Misha’s father home for the first time?
He didn’t appeal to me either—who would like it when a stranger shows up claiming rights to your daughter?
But I, Vika, kept quiet, because I had the brains and sense to know that at some point you have to let your child go so they can learn and build relationships on their own.
When the front door slammed, Misha came out of his room. His mother went to the kitchen, took a bottle of tranquilizers from the cupboard, and carefully measured out a dose.
“Want some?” she asked.
Misha shook his head. He reached into his pocket, felt the ring, and headed for the hallway.
If only Zhenya would forgive him…
Zhenya did forgive him. Perhaps it was because Misha was so convincing, detailing the tough talk Grandma had given them.
Wedding preparations went by without much stress, and so did the celebration itself.
At the wedding, Zhenya finally met the amazing woman who pulled off the impossible—got a little sense into the classic mama’s boy and turned him into more of a real man.
She never had any more conflicts with her new mother-in-law. Only once, when the woman tried to correct her for not ironing the bed linens ‘the right way,’ Zhenya quietly smiled, looked down, and replied.
I’ll tell Grandma you don’t like it. She’ll teach me a different way.
Why go straight to Grandma? I just wanted to give you some advice.
Thank you. If I ever need your advice, I’ll be sure to ask for it.
And after that, there were no more unsolicited advice or attempts to control from my mother-in-law.
That’s the secret to family happiness: your mother-in-law should have a mom of her own, ready to step in and smooth over any brewing conflict involving her daughter.
And not by siding with the daughter, but by making sure those truly responsible get a fair share of the blame.