Ksenia zipped up the new burgundy dress and looked at herself critically in the mirror. Today was her father-in-law Mikhail Stepanovich’s seventieth birthday, and she wanted to look appropriate. A jubilee is a serious occasion; the whole family would gather, and Ksenia understood that every glance, every gesture would be judged with a critical eye.
“Ready?” Oleg asked, poking his head into the bedroom. He straightened the collar of his shirt and glanced at his watch. “We have to go, otherwise Mom will say again that we’re always late.”
Ksenia nodded and picked up a small purse from the bed. In seven years of marriage she had gotten used to her mother-in-law’s temperament, but every time before seeing Elena Nikolaevna a knot of tension formed inside.
The drive to her father-in-law’s house took half an hour. Oleg drove in silence, occasionally glancing at his wife. Ksenia looked out the window at the yellowing trees—autumn was especially beautiful this year, the leaves blazing with bright colors.
“Listen,” her husband finally said, “Mom might be a little… well, you know, today. Just try not to pay attention, okay? It’s a special day; everyone’s on edge.”
Ksenia turned her head and studied him closely. There was an apologetic note in Oleg’s voice, as if he already knew what was coming.
“Alright,” she answered curtly.
They pulled up to a two-story house, with several cars already parked outside. Guests were gathering. Ksenia recognized the plates: Oleg’s brother and his wife had arrived, Elena Nikolaevna’s sister, the cousins.
“Mikhail Stepanovich!” Ksenia was the first to approach the birthday man and hugged him tightly. “Happy jubilee! Wishing you strong health and many years ahead!”
Her father-in-law broke into a smile and patted his daughter-in-law on the shoulder.
“Thank you, Ksenyushka! I’m glad you came. And where’s the present?” the old man teased with a wink.
Oleg pulled a neatly wrapped box from the car.
“A new electric kettle, Dad. Remember you complained the old one rattles in the mornings?”
“Oh, clever you are!” Mikhail Stepanovich took the gift and led the couple into the house.
The entryway was crowded with guests. Ksenia greeted relatives, exchanged the usual remarks about the weather and the roads. Elena Nikolaevna greeted her daughter-in-law with a restrained nod.
“Oh, you’re here. Ksenia, go to the kitchen and help me with the last preparations.”
Ksenia took off her coat and headed for the kitchen. Controlled chaos reigned there: chopped vegetables on the table, pots of cooked dishes, and a festive cake finishing in the oven.
“What needs doing?” Ksenia asked, rolling up her sleeves.
“The cutlery’s over there; set it on the table. And lay out the napkins,” her mother-in-law muttered without even turning around.
Ksenia got to work. She set out the plates, laid forks and knives, and folded the napkins neatly. From the living room came the voices of arriving relatives, laughter, cheerful greetings.
“Slice some cheese, too,” ordered Elena Nikolaevna, pointing at a block of hard cheese. “Thin slices, not thick bricks like last time.”
Ksenia took a knife and began to cut. Each slice came out even and thin. She tried to do everything carefully so as not to give any reason for nitpicking.
“Mom, need a hand?” Tatyana, the wife of Oleg’s younger brother, peeked into the kitchen.
“No need, we’ve got it,” Elena Nikolaevna waved her off. “Go to the guests—you’re not a housemaid.”
Ksenia raised her eyebrows but kept quiet. For some reason it was fine for her to help, but not for Tatyana. Yet both were daughters-in-law in this house.
Half an hour later the table was set. Ksenia arranged the dishes, checked that serving spoons were everywhere, and adjusted the flowers in the vase at the center.
“All done,” she told her mother-in-law.
Elena Nikolaevna inspected the table critically, straightened something, and nodded.
“You can call the guests.”
The relatives took their seats around the large table. Ksenia ended up between Mikhail Stepanovich’s cousin and his wife. Across from her sat Elena Nikolaevna with her sister Valentina.
“What a beautiful dress,” Valentina complimented her. “And the color suits you.”
“Thank you,” Ksenia smiled.
“Yes, all dressed up as if you came to the theater, not the village,” Elena Nikolaevna said loudly, raking her daughter-in-law with an appraising glance.
An awkward silence fell over the table. Ksenia felt her face flush, but she tried to remain calm. She frowned and pressed her lips together to keep from snapping back.
“Mom,” Oleg said quietly, “let’s drink to Dad instead.”
Mikhail Stepanovich raised his glass and offered a toast for health and well-being. The guests joined in, and the tension eased a bit.
Dinner unfolded with lively conversation. They discussed the harvest, winter plans, news from the district center. Ksenia joined in, talking about her work at the local school, where she taught Russian language and literature.
“Remember, Misha, how we used to go to the dances when we were young?” Valentina laughed, addressing the birthday man.
“Do I ever!” Mikhail Stepanovich replied. “You wore that light blue dress; the whole village was turning their heads.”
“And you were handsome yourself!” Elena Nikolaevna’s sister chimed in.
The mother-in-law listened to these memories with a sour expression. Valentina had always been popular with men, which clearly irked her.
“By the way,” she suddenly turned to Ksenia, “why don’t you and Oleg have children yet? Seven years married—about time.”
Ksenia nearly choked on her compote. The subject was painful—the couple had been trying for a child for three years without success.
“Mom,” Oleg said warningly.
“What ‘mom’? I’m asking a real question. I want to have grandkids while I still have the strength.”
“We’ll get there,” Ksenia answered quietly.
“Sure you will. How much longer?” Elena Nikolaevna snorted and turned to her neighbor. “Valerka’s wife is great—already had two.”
Tatyana blushed and smiled shyly. Valery, Mikhail Stepanovich’s younger son, took his wife’s hand.
“Mom, let’s not compare,” the middle son tried to intervene.
“What’s the big deal? I’m not scolding anyone, just stating facts,” Elena Nikolaevna spread her hands.
Ksenia sat in silence, feeling irritation build inside. Every word from her mother-in-law hit a sore spot. She knew it was better not to get into an argument, but it was getting harder and harder to hold back.
“More salad?” offered Mikhail Stepanovich, trying to change the subject.
“Yes, please,” Ksenia said, holding out her plate.
“And look at Seryozhka and Irina—they didn’t rush either,” Elena Nikolaevna went on, pointing to a second cousin. “But at least they had a reason—were waiting for an apartment from the city.”
Seryozhka coughed awkwardly and started cutting his meat with great concentration.
“And what’s your reason?” the mother-in-law insisted, staring straight at Ksenia.
“Elena Nikolaevna,” Valentina interjected, “maybe not today? It’s a celebration.”
“What kind of celebration is it when there’s no children’s laughter in the house?” the hostess wouldn’t relent. “At their age I was already raising three!”
Ksenia clenched her fists under the table. Blood rushed to her face, betraying her barely contained emotions. She understood that her mother-in-law was deliberately pressing on the bruises.
“Mom, enough,” Oleg said firmly.
“Enough what? I’m telling the truth!” Elena Nikolaevna protested. “Seven years have passed and there’s no result!”
The guests exchanged glances, not knowing what to do. Mikhail Stepanovich scowled at his wife, but didn’t hurry to step in.
“Maybe we should serve dessert?” Tatyana suggested timidly.
“We will,” agreed Elena Nikolaevna, getting up from the table.
Ksenia got up too to help clear the dirty dishes. Her hands trembled slightly from the strain, but she tried not to show it.
In the kitchen, the assault continued.
“Have you at least gone to the doctors? Maybe something’s wrong with you?”
“Elena Nikolaevna, that’s a very personal matter,” Ksenia tried to fend off the pressure.
“So what if it’s personal? Grandchildren are not a personal matter! It’s family business!” the mother-in-law snapped.
Ksenia silently stacked plates in the sink. Every word from Elena Nikolaevna stabbed at her chest, but she stubbornly held herself together.
“And besides,” the mother-in-law went on, taking the cake from the fridge, “maybe you don’t want kids on purpose. Building a career, are we? The schoolteacher!”
“I want children,” Ksenia said quietly.
“You do? And where are the deeds?” Elena Nikolaevna sniffed.
They returned to the living room with the cake and the tea set. The guests perked up again, admiring the beautiful cake with seventy candles.
“Mikhail Stepanovich, make a wish!” Valentina called cheerfully.
The birthday man blew out the candles to applause and kisses. Ksenia clapped along with the others, trying to look happy.
The cake was cut and handed out on plates. The conversation shifted to other topics: the road repairs, new district leadership, plans for next year.
“Remember, Dad, how you used to take us fishing?” Valery asked.
“Do I!” Mikhail Stepanovich brightened. “Oleg would catch a whole bucket, and Valerka just splashed around in the water.”
The brothers laughed, reminiscing about childhood mischief. The atmosphere became friendlier, and Ksenia relaxed a little.
But Elena Nikolaevna wasn’t done. She finished her tea, fixed her hair, and again turned her attention to her daughter-in-law.
“Ksenia, do you even know how to cook?” she asked suddenly.
“I do,” Ksenia answered, surprised.
“Because one time I came to your place and your fridge was full of convenience foods,” the mother-in-law continued. “Your husband comes home tired from work, and his wife warms up hot dogs in a pan!”
Oleg stiffened and gave his mother a warning look.
“Mom, we eat just fine.”
“Just fine?” she echoed. “You call that fine? Where are the first courses? Where are the homemade preserves for winter?”
Ksenia bit her lip. On that ill-fated day when Elena Nikolaevna had shown up unannounced, they really had been eating simply—after the kitchen renovation there hadn’t been time for serious cooking.
“We do preserves,” Ksenia said.
“Do you now? And where are they? I didn’t see a single jar in the pantry!” the mother-in-law declared triumphantly.
The guests fell quiet again, sensing the tension rising. Valentina shook her head and sighed softly.
“Elena Nikolaevna, maybe not in front of everyone?” ventured the cousin’s wife.
“What’s the problem? A daughter-in-law should be able to run a household!” the mother-in-law insisted.
Ksenia stood to take her plate to the kitchen. Her hands were trembling, and she was afraid she’d drop the dish.
“Sit,” Elena Nikolaevna snapped. “I’m not done talking to you!”
Ksenia slowly sat back down. Her face showed that her patience was almost gone.
“One more thing,” the mother-in-law continued, raising her voice. “You’ve spoiled my son completely! Oleg used to come to me every weekend and help around the house. And now what? I see him once a month, if I’m lucky!”
“Mom, we have things to do too,” Oleg tried to explain.
“What things?” she snorted. “Going to the movies? Wandering around the shops?”
Ksenia rose from the table, blood pounding in her temples, her hands clenched into fists.
“Elena Nikolaevna,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “I understand you worry about your son, but—”
“You understand nothing!” the mother-in-law cut her off, standing up as well. “You came here and turned everything upside down! You’ve set my son against his mother!”
“That’s not true!” Ksenia protested.
“Not true? Then why does Oleg visit me less? Why do you show up at family celebrations at the last minute?”
“We work, we have our own life!” Ksenia couldn’t hold back.
“Your own life!” Elena Nikolaevna mocked. “You’ve forgotten your place! In this family you’re nobody!”
Mikhail Stepanovich got to his feet with effort.
“Lena, stop. It’s my birthday.”
But the mother-in-law was unstoppable. She moved closer to Ksenia, eyes flashing with anger.
“You think that just because you put on a pretty dress you’re a queen?” she hissed. “Well, know this: you’ll be on your knees scrubbing my floors!”
The last words were so loud the entire table heard them. A few guests burst out laughing, thinking it was a joke. Others exchanged looks, unsure how to react.
Oleg sat stony-faced, studying his plate. He didn’t even lift his head, as if nothing was happening. A piece of cake slowly soaked under his fork as he kept tracing the porcelain mechanically.
Blood rushed to Ksenia’s cheeks, staining them a bright red. She shoved her chair back; it thumped against the wall with a dull bang. The sound cut through the tense silence, making several guests flinch.
“If you’ve decided to humiliate me, do it without me,” Ksenia said loudly, looking her mother-in-law straight in the eye.
An awkward pause settled over the table. Guests froze with their glasses in hand, someone stopped chewing, the cousin choked on his tea. Valentina covered her mouth with her hand, and Tatyana stared down at her plate.
“Who do you think you are to talk back to your elders?!” Elena Nikolaevna shrieked, planting her hands on her hips. “I’m not some granny on a bench! I’m the mistress of this house!”
She took a step forward, flailing her arms. Her face was contorted with rage, eyes narrowed to slits.
“You’ve forgotten your place! Came here to teach us how to live!” she shouted. “Think that putting on a pretty dress makes you a princess?”
Ksenia froze, blinking at what she’d heard. For a few seconds she stood motionless, processing what had happened. Then she leaned down, picked up her purse, and walked toward the door.
“That’s right, run!” her mother-in-law screamed after her. “And don’t you dare come back!”
“Mom, stop,” Oleg finally spoke, but his voice was quiet, without much conviction.
“Stop what? I’m telling the truth!” the mother-in-law wouldn’t let up. “Your wife’s become more important to you than your mother!”
Ksenia stopped in the doorway and turned. Her gaze slid over the faces at the table. Some looked sympathetic, some curious, and some frankly spiteful.
“Oleg,” she called softly.
Her husband looked up and met her eyes, but stayed seated. His look was confused, but there was no intention to stand up for his wife.
“I see,” Ksenia said shortly, and walked out of the house.
Once the door closed behind her, the room came alive at once. Whispering broke out, turning into animated chatter. Valentina shook her head, clearly disapproving of her sister’s behavior. Tatyana nervously twisted a napkin. The men exchanged glances, uncertain whether to intervene.
“Well, happy now?” Mikhail Stepanovich asked his wife gloomily. “You’ve ruined the birthday.”
“I didn’t ruin anything!” snapped Elena Nikolaevna. “It’s your precious daughter-in-law! How brazen she’s become!”
“Lena, you crossed every line,” Valentina interjected. “The girl is good and hard-working.”
“Hard-working?” the mother-in-law snorted. “My son’s walking around skinny, the house is a mess, there are no kids! What’s hard-working about that?”
Oleg silently finished his cake and pushed away the plate. He looked dejected but still didn’t dare defend his wife.
“Maybe you should go after her?” his father suggested.
“She’ll come back on her own,” Oleg muttered. “She’s got nowhere to go.”
“Exactly!” his mother approved. “Let her think about her behavior!”
The guests began to drift out. Some cited the late hour, others plans for the next day. In truth, everyone felt uncomfortable staying after such a scene.
“Thank you for the party,” the cousin’s wife said with a strained smile as she said goodbye. “The cake was very tasty.”
“Come again,” Elena Nikolaevna replied just as stiffly.
An hour later only Mikhail Stepanovich, Elena Nikolaevna, and Oleg remained. The mother-in-law bustled about, clearing the table and clattering the dishes louder than usual.
“You see?” she said to her son. “Everyone scattered because of your wife! The celebration’s ruined!”
Oleg helped stack plates in silence, avoiding his parents’ eyes.
“She’s always been cheeky,” Elena Nikolaevna went on. “I felt it from the start—she’s not one of us!”
“That’s enough,” said Mikhail Stepanovich wearily. “The birthday’s over, and that’s that.”
Meanwhile, Ksenia was walking down the dark street toward the bus stop. It was cold; the autumn wind cut through her light dress, but she didn’t notice. Her mother-in-law’s words, the laughing faces of the guests, and her husband’s indifferent expression kept circling in her head.
Buses to the city ran rarely, especially in the evenings. Ksenia checked the schedule and realized the next one wouldn’t come for an hour and a half. She sat on the bench and took out her phone.
Several missed calls from Oleg appeared on the screen. Ksenia deleted them without calling back. Then she dialed her friend Svetlana.
“Hello, Sveta? It’s Ksenia. Are you home? Can I come over?”
“Of course! What happened? You sound strange.”
“I’ll tell you later. I’ll be there in two hours.”
While Ksenia waited for the bus, her phone rang several more times. All the calls were from Oleg. She didn’t even look at the screen—she just turned the sound off.
The bus was almost empty. Ksenia sat by the window, watching the lights flicker past. Gradually her emotions settled, and she began to analyze what had happened.
Insults from her mother-in-law weren’t new, but today Elena Nikolaevna had crossed every line. The worst part was her husband’s behavior—Oleg hadn’t even tried to stand up for her. Seven years of marriage, and he chose to stay on the sidelines.
Svetlana’s apartment was in a residential district. Her friend met Ksenia with a cup of hot tea and a worried look.
“Tell me everything,” Svetlana said, seating her on the couch.
Ksenia recounted the evening in detail. Svetlana listened, shaking her head and clicking her tongue in indignation.
“What a family!” she exclaimed when Ksenia finished. “And Oleg just sat there silent?”
“Silent. Didn’t even try to stop his mother.”
“That’s awful! To humiliate you in front of everyone!”
Svetlana brought a warm robe from the wardrobe and made Ksenia change.
“Stay the night. Tomorrow, with a clear head, you’ll decide what to do.”
Ksenia agreed. She felt empty and exhausted. She just wanted to lie down and think about nothing.
Sleep wouldn’t come at night. Ksenia lay on the couch in the living room, replaying the day in her mind. Each time she remembered her mother-in-law’s words, her cheeks burned with shame and anger.
In the morning Svetlana made breakfast and brought the subject up again.
“You know,” she said, spreading butter on bread, “maybe this is for the best. Now you know exactly what your mother-in-law thinks of you. And what your husband thinks.”
“What do you mean?” Ksenia asked.
“Oleg showed his true colors. When a wife is being humiliated in public, a decent man defends her. Yours chose to keep quiet.”
Svetlana was right. Ksenia knew it, but admitting it hurt.
“Seven years together,” she said softly. “I thought we were a team.”
“A team means supporting each other. Not sitting silent while the other is being trampled.”
Ksenia’s phone was buzzing nonstop. Oleg called every half hour, sending messages with apologies and pleas for her to come home.
“Don’t answer yet,” Svetlana advised. “Let him understand what he’s done.”
That evening Valentina, Elena Nikolaevna’s sister, called.
“Ksenyushka, how are you?” she asked cautiously.
“I’m fine, Valentina Nikolaevna. Thank you for asking.”
“Listen, I wanted to say… Lena completely lost her head yesterday. I haven’t seen such shame in a long time. Don’t be angry at all of us.”
“I’m not angry at you. It wasn’t your doing.”
“Maybe you could make peace? Oleg’s a good guy; his mama just spoiled him.”
Ksenia thanked her for the call, but reconciliation wasn’t on the table.
The following days passed in reflection. Ksenia took a day off from work and tried to decide what to do next. Oleg kept calling, even came to Svetlana’s, but Ksenia refused to meet.
A week later she made up her mind. She returned home when her husband wasn’t there, packed her things, and left a note:
“Oleg, I’ve thought a lot about what happened at your father’s birthday. Your mother humiliated me in front of everyone, and you stayed silent. For me, that was the last straw. I no longer want to endure humiliation and will not return to a home where I’m not respected. Our relationship is over. Don’t try to find me or change my mind. The decision is final.”
Ksenia left the note on the kitchen table beside the apartment keys. She took off her wedding ring and set it on top.
A month later Ksenia filed for divorce. Oleg tried to meet, to explain, to apologize, but it was too late. She was determined to start a new life—without a mother-in-law who felt entitled to humiliate her in front of guests, and without a husband who couldn’t protect her.
Mikhail Stepanovich’s jubilee was indeed remembered by everyone for a long time, but not for the memories the organizers had hoped for. And Ksenia learned an important truth: a person’s dignity is worth more than any family ties, and no one should be allowed to trample it
