When Valentina Petrovna called on Wednesday evening, there was that special note in her voice that Katya had learned to recognize during the first months of her marriage. It was neither a request nor an order, but something in between, wrapped in duty and family obligations.
“Dear Katenka,” her mother-in-law began, and Katya mentally prepared herself, “the girls are coming over on Saturday. You know, my former colleagues from the accounting department. We’ve been planning to get together for ages and reminisce about our younger days. Could you help me a little? It’s rather difficult for me to arrange everything on my own.”
Katya looked at Andrei, who was reading the news on his phone and pretending not to hear the conversation. His shoulders tensed slightly—he could always sense his mother’s “requests” from a mile away.
“Of course, Valentina Petrovna. I’ll help,” Katya replied, even though Saturday was her only day off after a stressful week at the office. “What will I need to do?”
“Oh, nothing special,” her mother-in-law said, her voice becoming lighter, almost carefree. “Chop some salads and set the table nicely. You’re such a good homemaker and always do everything so neatly. Come around two, and the girls will arrive at four.”
After Katya ended the call, Andrei finally looked up from his screen.
“Did Mom give you more work again?” he asked with a guilty smile.
“It’s no big deal.” Katya shrugged. “I’m just helping her prepare. Nothing unusual.”
Still, something in her mother-in-law’s tone made her feel slightly uneasy. Valentina Petrovna was a domineering woman who was accustomed to order and precision. Everything in her home had its place, and every object served a particular purpose. Katya also had her place in that system—not always a comfortable one, but a clearly defined one.
On Saturday morning, Katya awoke with a heavy feeling in her chest. Andrei had gone to a friend’s country house, promising to return by evening. Katya packed a small bag with an apron and comfortable shoes, knowing that she would be standing for a long time.
Valentina Petrovna’s home greeted her with the familiar smell of furniture polish and the faint fragrance of Krasnaya Moskva perfume. Her mother-in-law was already wearing her best suit—a dark blue one with a flower-shaped brooch on the lapel.
“Katenka, I’m so glad you came!” She embraced her daughter-in-law, but the gesture felt formal, almost as though it was only for appearances. “I’ve already started cooking, but I don’t have the strength I used to. Age, you know.”
Katya glanced around the kitchen. Chopped vegetables lay on the counter, and bowls of prepared ingredients stood in the refrigerator. Valentina Petrovna had clearly already done a considerable amount of work.
“What would you like me to do?” Katya asked as she tied on her apron.
“The Olivier salad needs to be finished,” her mother-in-law said, pointing to a bowl of potatoes and carrots. “Then you can make the herring under a fur coat. You know the recipe—I taught you. And set the table beautifully. Use the good tablecloth and arrange the napkins.”
Katya got to work. She always cooked carefully and with love, but today she felt strangely tense. Valentina Petrovna kept coming into the kitchen and making comments.
“Cut the carrots smaller.”
“Don’t be stingy with the mayonnaise.”
“Don’t forget the parsley.”
By half past three, the table was ready. There was a white tablecloth, crystal shot glasses, and beautiful plates decorated with floral patterns. Katya arranged the salads, cold cuts, and hot dishes. Everything looked festive and appetizing.
“Well, this is beautiful!” Valentina Petrovna said approvingly as she examined the table. “The girls will be here soon. They’ll love it.”
The first guest to arrive was Lidia Ivanovna, a heavyset woman with gray hair styled in tight curls. She was followed by Nina Sergeyevna, who was thin and stern-looking and wore glasses on a chain. Tamara Fyodorovna arrived last. She was the youngest of the group, although she was already over sixty.
Katya welcomed the guests in the hallway, took their coats, and offered them slippers. The women behaved somewhat ceremoniously, as if they were evaluating not only the house but Katya herself.
“Oh, how beautiful!” Lidia Ivanovna exclaimed as she entered the living room. “Valya, everything looks like it came straight out of a magazine!”
“Katya did all the work,” Valentina Petrovna replied, but there was no particular warmth in her voice. “She’s very handy.”
The guests sat down at the table, and Katya began pouring tea and serving the appetizers. She felt a little awkward. The women were talking about people she did not know and about a workplace she had never seen. Gradually, however, the atmosphere became more relaxed.
“Do you remember when Valya and I went on that business trip?” Nina Sergeyevna said. “It was Rostov, I think. Or was it Voronezh? It doesn’t matter! The important thing is that the hotel put us in the same room, and there was only one bed!”
The women laughed, and Katya smiled as well. She placed a small dish of lemon slices on the table and, without thinking, took a plate for herself from the cabinet. She automatically served herself some salad and took a piece of bread. After working for two hours, she was tired and wanted to sit down, if only for a moment.
“And I remember how our dear Valya once…” Tamara Fyodorovna began, but then suddenly fell silent.
Katya looked up and saw everyone staring at her. Valentina Petrovna was sitting perfectly straight, her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes flashing.
“What are you doing sitting at the table? Your job is to serve us the food,” her mother-in-law snapped in front of all the guests.
The words struck Katya like a slap across the face. She felt blood rush to her cheeks and her heart begin to pound. Slowly, she placed her fork on her plate, unable to believe what was happening.
The guests fell silent. Lidia Ivanovna stared down at her plate, Nina Sergeyevna adjusted her glasses, and Tamara Fyodorovna cleared her throat.
“Valentina Petrovna, I…” Katya began, but her voice failed her.
“What do you mean, ‘I’?” her mother-in-law continued, showing no intention of backing down. “My friends and I are trying to talk, and you’ve made yourself comfortable at the table. It’s inappropriate.”
Katya wanted to stand up, but her legs would not obey her. The humiliation was so unexpected and painful that she simply did not know how to react.
“I think Valya is right,” Nina Sergeyevna suddenly said. “Young people should respect their elders. She should serve us first, and then she can eat.”
“Of course, of course,” Lidia Ivanovna agreed, growing more confident. “In our day, that went without saying. The elders came first, and the younger people came afterward. There has to be order.”
“Besides,” Tamara Fyodorovna added, “it’s the younger generation’s responsibility to help. We’ve already done our share of work. We’ve earned the right to rest.”
Katya listened to the chorus of voices and felt something breaking inside her. She had always tried to be a good daughter-in-law. She helped and never complained. Now they were putting her in her place as though she were a servant.
“I’ve spent two hours cooking,” she said quietly. “I cleaned and set the table.”
“So what?” Valentina Petrovna shrugged. “That’s your duty. I didn’t force you. You offered to help.”
“I offered to help, not to wait on you,” Katya said, her voice growing stronger.
“Oh, aren’t we proud!” Nina Sergeyevna laughed. “In our day, daughters-in-law knew their place.”
“Your day was in the last century,” Katya replied sharply, leaving the women speechless.
A heavy silence filled the room. Valentina Petrovna went pale with anger.
“How dare you!” she hissed. “In my home, in front of my guests!”
“I was humiliated in your home.” Katya stood and began untying her apron. “No one has ever humiliated me like that before.”
“Katya, don’t be like this,” Lidia Ivanovna tried to intervene. “Valya didn’t mean any harm.”
“Whether she meant it or not makes no difference to me.” Katya removed the apron and threw it onto the table in her mother-in-law’s direction. “I am not a servant. I am a member of this family.”
“What kind of family member are you?” Valentina Petrovna exclaimed indignantly. “You’re married to my son, and you must…”
“Must, must, must,” Katya interrupted her. “Someone is always telling me what I must do. But what must you do? Respect me? Thank me for helping? Or am I the only one with obligations while having no rights?”
She picked up her handbag and headed toward the door.
“You see, girls?” Valentina Petrovna said, her voice trembling with indignation. “This is what the younger generation is like today—spoiled and disrespectful. At their age, we understood the meaning of duty and responsibility.”
“Of course,” Nina Sergeyevna agreed. “They’ve become completely undisciplined. They have neither shame nor conscience.”
“And worst of all, they’re ungrateful,” Tamara Fyodorovna added. “Valya treats her like her own daughter, and she…”
Katya stopped in the doorway.
“A real mother would never humiliate her child like that,” she said without turning around. “Go ahead and keep talking about me. Just remember that your children may also be talking about you behind your backs.”
The door slammed shut, and Katya found herself standing on the landing. Her hands were trembling and tears were gathering in her eyes, but she held them back. It was only after she went downstairs and stepped outside that she allowed herself to cry.
At home, Katya sat in the kitchen, drank tea, and tried to calm down. Andrei returned around nine o’clock, cheerful and tanned.
“Hello, darling!” He kissed her on the cheek. “How did everything go at Mom’s?”
Katya looked at him and suddenly could no longer hold back her tears.
“What happened?” Andrei sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Your mother…” Katya sobbed. “She humiliated me in front of everyone. She said my job was to serve them food, not sit at the table.”
“What do you mean?” Andrei frowned.
Katya told him everything in detail: how she had cooked, cleaned, and set the table; how she had only wanted to eat something and rest for a moment; and how his mother had scolded her in front of the guests while the other women supported her.
“You understand, it wasn’t even the words themselves. It was the way she said them,” Katya explained, wiping away her tears. “As though I weren’t a person but some kind of servant. And she did it in front of everyone! I felt so ashamed and so hurt.”
Andrei remained silent, but the anger was clearly visible on his face.
“How dare she!” he finally exploded. “You’re her son’s wife, not her housekeeper! You were right to leave.”
“Really?” Katya looked at him hopefully. “I thought perhaps I reacted too harshly.”
“There was nothing ‘too harsh’ about it.” Andrei shook his head. “Mom crossed every boundary a long time ago. She thinks she can do whatever she wants. I’m going to see her tomorrow and explain a few things.”
“Please don’t cause a scene,” Katya asked. “Just talk to her. Maybe she’ll understand.”
“She’ll understand,” Andrei promised grimly. “I’ll explain everything to her and make sure this never happens again.”
Katya leaned against her husband, feeling the tension finally beginning to leave her body. She had been right. She had done the right thing. Most importantly, Andrei was on her side.
“You know,” she said quietly, “I used to think I had to tolerate all of this for the sake of the family. But today I realized that family isn’t only about obligations. It’s also about respect.”
“Of course it is.” Andrei held her more tightly. “And starting tomorrow, Mom will understand that too. I promise.”
Meanwhile, at Valentina Petrovna’s home, the guests continued discussing the “ingratitude” of the younger generation for a long time. However, the festive mood had been irreparably ruined. The salads remained almost untouched, and the hostess herself could not rid herself of the unpleasant feeling in her heart.
Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, she understood that she had been wrong. But admitting it would have required her to change her entire system of beliefs about family, relationships, and who owed what to whom. That was far too difficult for a woman who was accustomed to seeing herself as the center of the universe.
So she preferred to convince herself that she had been right and that Katya was simply spoiled and disrespectful. It was easier that way. It was more familiar.
But family relationships are not a one-way street. Sooner or later, everyone must make a choice: change or lose the people closest to them. Valentina Petrovna made her choice that Saturday evening, and now she would have to live with its consequences.
