Ludmila sat at the kitchen table, nervously tapping a spoon on the rim of a cup of cooling tea. Her eyes, narrowed from perpetual dissatisfaction, followed as Marina loaded boxes into the car outside. “That’s it,” she thought, “finally this upstart has been removed from my boy’s life.”
Alexey stood by the car with his head bowed, while Liza, their daughter, deliberately turned away, absorbed in her phone.
Ludmila snorted. She had achieved her goal: her son’s marriage had collapsed like a house of cards, all thanks to her “subtle handiwork.”
— Alexey, just look how quickly she got ready! — Ludmila shouted, flinging the window open. — Surely she’d been waiting for the moment to run off with your money!
— Mom, enough, — Alexey muttered, not lifting his eyes. His voice trembled with fatigue. — I filed for divorce, not her.
— What do you know! — Ludmila flailed her hands as if swatting an annoying fly. — She completely deceived you! Lazy, materialistic—she couldn’t even tidy up or cook properly! And you, my son, deserve better.
Alexey remained silent, clenching his fists even tighter. He no longer knew how to explain to his mother that her endless nitpicking, gossip, and baseless accusations had driven him to this point. Marina, of course, was not perfect—who is?—but she tried.
Yet Ludmila saw only an enemy in her. First came the insinuations: “Are you sure she’s faithful to you, son?” Then, outright fabrications: “I saw her sitting in a café with some guy!”
And finally, the climax—a planted letter, allegedly from Marina’s “lover.” Alexey had lost it then, shouting, demanding explanations, while Marina, wiping away tears, simply said, “If you believe her instead of me, then there’s nothing left to discuss.”
The divorce proceeded quickly. Ludmila rejoiced, clapping her hands like a child at a party. She imagined how she would now care for her son, how she would bring him back into her nest where everything was under control.
But now, as she looked at his slumped figure by the car, she suddenly felt a slight pang of worry. “Why isn’t he happy?” the thought flashed. Yet she quickly dismissed it: “It’s temporary; he’ll thank me soon enough.”
Marina closed the trunk, cast one last glance at the house, and took the wheel.
Without a word, Liza flopped into the back seat. The car started moving, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a silence that hung in the air like a heavy curtain.
Ludmila closed the window and smiled to herself. “Victory,” she thought. But for some reason, something tightened in her chest, as if an invisible voice whispered, “What now?”
The days following the divorce flowed for Ludmila like a murky river—slowly and with an unpleasant sediment. She expected Alexey to return to her like before, to eat her borscht, listen to her advice, and praise her wisdom.
Instead, her son grew strangely silent. He visited her less often, always with slumped shoulders, as if carrying a heavy burden. One day, while sitting at the table, he suddenly said:
— Mom, are you happy now? Without Marina, I’m alone, and Liza barely sees me. Is this what you wanted?
Startled, Ludmila dropped her spoon. Its loud clatter against the tiles made her jump.
— How can you say that? — she exclaimed, flailing her arms. — I did everything for you! That woman only dragged you down!
Alexey shook his head wearily.
— You don’t understand. Marina wasn’t perfect, but she was my family. And now… now there’s nothing. Only emptiness.
Ludmila wanted to retort, but the words stuck in her throat. She saw her son aging before her eyes—wrinkles deepening on his forehead, his eyes growing dull.
He had tried to build a new life, bringing home new women a couple of times, but each one vanished quickly. One of them, Svetlana, even told him as she left:
— You’re too attached to your mother, Alexey. As long as she’s around, you’ll never be free.
Those words lodged in Alexey’s mind like a splinter. He began to avoid Ludmila, coming up with excuses.
Meanwhile, Marina, strangely, blossomed. After the divorce, it was as if she had shrugged off a heavy burden.
Soon, she landed a job at an advertising agency and managed to buy herself a small apartment.
Liza, though saddened by the divorce, gradually adjusted to the new life. She saw how her mother smiled more often, how she enjoyed preparing breakfast, how she planned for the future. But her father… her father had become a stranger. When Alexey called, Liza would hang up, and one day she even said:
— You chose your mother over us. Now deal with it yourself.
Those words, like a knife, pierced Alexey’s heart. He tried to explain, but his daughter was unmoved. And Ludmila, upon hearing this, only shrugged:
— Good. Let her know what betrayal feels like.
Yet inside, anxiety grew. She noticed that neighbors greeted her less frequently, and the friends with whom she used to discuss “Marina’s problems” now avoided her gaze. One day at the store, an elderly woman—whom Ludmila had once complained about regarding her daughter-in-law—said:
— Ludmila, you’ve driven yourself into a corner. Why did you need all of this?
Those words echoed in her head as she walked home.
And then it hit her! Her son was drifting away, her granddaughter hated her, and the former daughter-in-law, whom she had considered weak, was now living better than ever.
Deep down, she already felt the boomerang she had launched was beginning to return.
Months passed, and the silence in Ludmila’s life became unbearable.
Ludmila pressed her lips together, trying to chase away the thought that she had destroyed everything herself. But the thought wouldn’t leave—it gnawed at her like a famished mouse.
Meanwhile, Alexey had completely lost himself.
He tried calling Marina, sending long messages filled with apologies, but she replied briefly and coldly:
— Alexey, it’s over. Live your own life.
One day, he mustered the courage to visit her. He stood at the door of her new apartment, clutching a bouquet of daisies—her favorite. The door was opened by Liza. Seeing her father, she froze, then snapped:
— Why did you come? Mom isn’t home, and I don’t want to talk to you.
— Liza, please, — Alexey’s voice trembled, — I know I’m at fault. Give me a chance to make things right.
— Make things right? — Liza crossed her arms, her eyes flashing with hurt. — You left because you believed grandma over us. Now it’s too late.
The door slammed before his eyes. Alexey stood for another minute, staring at the peeling paint on the doorframe, then dropped the flowers on the floor and walked away. That evening, he didn’t answer his mother’s call for the first time. Ludmila called again and again, but all that came through were long beeps. She threw the phone onto the sofa and shouted into the emptiness:
— What is this all about! I did everything for him!
The next day, she decided to visit her son. The door was opened by Alexey—unshaven, with red eyes, wearing a crumpled T-shirt. Seeing his mother, he frowned.
— Why are you here, Mom?
— What do you mean “why”? — Ludmila stepped inside, surveying the mess. — Look at what you’ve done with your life! It’s all because of her, because of that Marina!
— Enough, — Alexey cut her off, his voice firmer than ever. — It’s not because of Marina. It’s because of you. You ruined everything. I lost my wife, my daughter, and now myself. And you know what? I don’t want to see you anymore.
Ludmila froze, as if struck. She opened her mouth to argue, but her son had already turned away, signaling the end of the conversation.
For the first time in her life, she felt that she was losing control.
At home, sitting in the darkness, she suddenly heard a neighbor laughing with her grandchildren through the wall. That sound cut through her heart. She realized: Liza would no longer come to her with her drawings, no longer hug her, no longer call her “granny.” And Alexey… he was now a stranger.
Meanwhile, Marina and Liza were having dinner in their bright kitchen. On the table lay a pizza they had baked together, and in the air floated the scent of herbs and laughter. Marina looked at her daughter and said:
— You know, Liza, I was afraid we wouldn’t make it. But we did. And I’m proud of us.
— Me too, Mom, — Liza smiled, taking a bite. — And Dad… let him live with grandma. They deserve each other.
Marina fell silent, but a spark of relief flickered in her eyes. She had won—not out of revenge, but simply because she had chosen herself and her daughter.
Ludmila awoke from the cold. The window in the bedroom was slightly open, and a draft was wandering through the room, moving the curtains like ghosts of the past. She lay for a long time, staring at the ceiling where a cobweb in the corner looked like a map of her mistakes. The phone had been silent for a week—no calls from Alexey, no word from Liza.
Even the neighbor who used to stop by for tea now walked past, avoiding eye contact. Ludmila got up, threw on an old robe, and shuffled to the kitchen. The kettle began to boil, but she didn’t make tea—instead, she simply sat and listened to the hiss of steam dissolving into the silence.
That day she decided to take a walk. She put on a coat she hadn’t worn in ages and stepped outside. Spring had firmly taken hold: the sun warmed the asphalt, children scampered around the yard, and somewhere in the distance a tram chimed. Ludmila walked slowly, leaning on a cane she once deemed unnecessary. Her eyes fell on a playground, where a little girl resembling Liza was swinging on a carousel.
Her heart tightened. She remembered taking her granddaughter there, how she laughed while stretching out her ice-cream–sticky hands. “Grandma, you’re the best!” Liza used to shout then. And now… now she doesn’t even look her way.
Ludmila reached the park and sat on a bench. Nearby, an elderly woman fed pigeons, and the birds flocked to her, flapping their wings. Ludmila suddenly felt envious—at least someone was coming to her. She took a handkerchief from her pocket, wiped her eyes, and whispered to herself:
— What have I done…
Her voice was drowned out by the wind. She recalled how proud she was of her “victory” over Marina, how happy she had been when her son filed for divorce. She thought she was saving him, reclaiming her family. But instead, she was left alone.
Alexey no longer called, and when she dialed his number, he let the call drop. Liza, when she met her once outside a shop, simply walked by, as if Ludmila didn’t exist. And Marina… Marina was living her own life, and, according to rumors, she was better off than ever.
That evening, Ludmila returned home.
Her boomerang had come back, striking harder than she could have ever imagined.
At the same time, warm light burned in Marina’s apartment. Liza was drawing at the table, and Marina was preparing dinner, humming an old song.
Ludmila, however, was left with silence. And it was too late to fix it.