“We are not going to sleep on the floor. Take us to a hotel or give us your bedroom,” her husband’s aunt protested when she showed up at their new apartment.
“So let me get this straight — there is not even anywhere for us to sit? What a wonderful way to welcome relatives to a festive dinner!” Aunt Zhanna snapped.
Vera got up from her seat and pulled two chairs over to the table, where the place settings for her husband’s picky relatives had already been laid out.
“Everything is ready. We were expecting you,” the birthday girl said calmly.
“It took forever to get to your new apartment. You should have stayed in the rented place — it was closer and more spacious. A terrible choice, Vera! And why does our Misha listen to you in everything?” Aunt Zina declared, looking around critically.
Vera looked at the guests and understood perfectly well why she had not wanted to celebrate her birthday at all…
“Misha, today is Thursday. I was not planning to spend the whole evening standing over the stove making salads and hot dishes. After all, it is my day. I want to see the people I invited myself,” Vera was explaining over the phone to her husband.
“So my family bothers you, is that it? Wonderful life we have, Verochka!” Mikhail flared up. “I did not invite anyone on purpose, but the table still has to be set. Everyone will come to congratulate you and take a look at our new apartment.”
The call ended, and Vera stared at her work reports. Lately she had not been feeling well, but she still had not managed to see a doctor. Work — home — work, over and over again…
On her birthday, she was in no hurry to go home. She had no desire to celebrate on a weekday, but Misha had no intention of waiting until Saturday. Her husband kept pressuring Vera and hinting that the table had to look flawless, even though everyone knew the family had just taken on a mortgage and lavish feasts were beyond their means right now.
But Misha wanted a “two-in-one” event: a housewarming party and his wife’s birthday, all while impressing his relatives. For Vera, though, this celebration felt more like an obligation — all because of her husband’s demanding aunts and the rest of his family.
She sighed and sadly remembered the times when she and Misha used to celebrate her birthday alone, without the extra burden of his aunties and all the other relatives.
Misha had already called her a second time, and she lied, saying she was stuck at work finishing reports. Just then, the plump accountant Anna Semyonovna suddenly peeked into the office.
“Why are you sitting here, birthday girl? Hiding from congratulations?” her colleague laughed.
“As if I could hide from them… I am already leaving. I just got held up with paperwork,” Vera sighed, hoping Anna would leave quickly.
At home, an unpleasant surprise was waiting for Vera, and it started right at the doorstep. A trail of dirty footprints stretched from the front door to the living room and back again.
“I do not understand how to seat them all,” Mikhail sighed when he heard his wife come in.
Vera froze in the doorway of the living room, barely recognizing the room.
“Did you decide to start rearranging furniture or doing repairs? Where did all this dirt come from? Do I have to wash the floor too?” she asked tiredly, rubbing her aching temple.
“No, Vera, I will wash the floor myself. That is nothing. I do not understand how to fit all the guests. Aunt Zina and Aunt Zhanna are coming, and Katya, her husband, and the kids too…” Mikhail said, looking over the scale of the task.
Vera silently went into the kitchen. The day before, she had prepared a few things in a hurry, and today, on her way home, she had bought ready-made salads and meat from the deli near the house.
“It should be enough,” she muttered, critically inspecting the modest spread.
She made a side dish, light appetizers, cleaned up the mess her husband had made, arranged the dishes and the food on the table. But exhaustion hit her all at once, even though it seemed she had not done anything especially difficult.
The rest of the story is in the comment under the post 👇
“And so there’s nowhere for us to sit, is that it? What a fine way to welcome relatives to the table!” Aunt Zhanna complained.
Vera got up, moved two chairs to the table, where place settings had already been laid out for her husband’s fussy aunts.
“Everything’s ready. We’ve been waiting for you,” said the birthday girl.
“It took us forever to get to your new apartment. You should have stayed in the rental—it was closer and more spacious. A terrible choice, Vera! Why does our Misha listen to you in everything?” Aunt Zina said, looking around.
Vera looked at the guests and clearly understood why she had not wanted to celebrate her birthday…
“Misha, it’s Thursday. I wasn’t planning to fuss with salads and hot dishes. After all, it’s my holiday. I want to see the people I invited,” Vera said into the phone, trying to justify herself to her husband.
“So my relatives are unpleasant people, is that what you’re saying? Nice life we have, Verunya!” Mikhail snapped. “I didn’t invite anyone, but the table has to be set. Anyway, everyone will come to congratulate you and see our new apartment.”
Her husband hung up, and Vera stared at the reports. She hadn’t been feeling well lately, but she still hadn’t made it to a doctor. Work-home-work, over and over again…
On her birthday she was in no rush to go home. She didn’t want to celebrate on a weekday, but Misha didn’t want to wait until Saturday. He kept hurrying Vera and hinting that the table had to be laid out first-class, even though all their friends and relatives knew the family had recently taken out a mortgage and lavish celebrations were beyond their means right now.
But Misha wanted to do “two in one”: a housewarming and his wife’s birthday, and show off to everyone. To Vera, the celebration felt more like an obligation, all because of her husband’s capricious relatives.
Vera sighed and sadly remembered the time when she and her husband used to celebrate her birthday alone, without the ballast of Mikhail’s two aunts and his other relatives. Misha had already called her twice, and she had lied that she was stuck at work with reports. Suddenly, the plump accountant Anna Semyonovna walked into the office.
“Why are you sitting here, birthday girl? Hiding from congratulations?” Vera’s colleague laughed, looking at her.
“As if you can hide from them. I’m leaving already. I got stuck on reports,” Vera sighed, just so Anna would leave sooner.
An unpleasant surprise was waiting for Vera at home, and it began right at the threshold. A trail of dirty footprints wound back and forth from the front door to the living room.
“I don’t know how to seat them,” Mikhail sighed when he heard his wife’s footsteps behind him. Vera froze in the doorway to the living room and barely recognized the room.
“Did you decide to start renovations or rearrange the furniture? What is all this dirt? Do I have to wash the floor too?” she asked tiredly, rubbing her throbbing right temple.
“No, Vera. I’ll wash the floor. That’s nothing. I don’t know how to seat the guests. Aunt Zina and Aunt Zhanna are coming, and my sister Katya with her husband and children…” her husband said, surveying the “battlefield.”
Vera left him and went into the kitchen. Yesterday she had managed to cook something in a hurry, and today on the way home she had bought ready-made salads and meat from the deli near the house.
“It should be enough,” she said to herself, critically inspecting the modest spread.
She made a side dish, prepared light snacks, cleaned up all the mess her husband had made, and laid out the dishes and cutlery. But exhaustion overwhelmed Vera, even though she hadn’t done anything special.
An hour later the guests were already crowding into the hallway. Family friends came, her sister-in-law with her children and husband, and Vera’s parents. Only Aunt Zhanna and Aunt Zina were missing.
“Verочка, our rose has blossomed even more beautifully!” her husband’s sister cooed, handing Vera a bouquet of red roses.
Vera smiled and accepted congratulations, though what she really wanted was just to lie on the couch with a book in peace and quiet.
There were so many gifts and flowers that there weren’t enough vases, so they had to put the bouquets into buckets of water. Her parents gave her money in an envelope, friends gave her tableware and bed linens. Everything was beautiful, and Vera liked it all.
Her mood gradually improved.
Misha gave his beloved wife a gift too. The beautiful earrings Vera had wanted so much made her forget the scandal her husband had started over the phone because of his aunts.
“Sorry I snapped. But imagine how it would have looked if the guests had come and we weren’t ready. Happy birthday to you. I love and adore you, Verunya,” her husband said and kissed her on the cheek.
By the way, Zina and Zhanna still hadn’t shown up, and Vera thought they probably wouldn’t come at all, which made her feel even lighter.
Her mother asked Vera how things were at work, her father ate with appetite, and the guests laughed and chatted. The celebration went on as usual—no one criticized anything, no one made remarks about the store-bought salads or the small amount of drinks and snacks.
But suddenly the doorbell rang.
“It’s the aunties,” Misha said happily and went to open the door, while Vera only frowned.
“They show up at the very end of the party, and now they’ll say the hot dish is cold,” Vera muttered.
Vera got up, moved two chairs to the table, where place settings had already been laid out for her husband’s picky aunts.
“Everything’s ready. We’ve been waiting for you,” said the birthday girl.
“It took us forever to get to your new place. You should have stayed in the rental apartment—it was closer and more spacious. A terrible choice, Vera! Why does our Misha listen to you in everything?” Aunt Zina said, looking around.
Vera understood that it wasn’t because of her husband that she had not wanted to celebrate her birthday, but because of his relatives.
Aunt Zhanna handed her flowers, and Zina gave her a small envelope. The aunts hugged and congratulated Vera, but formally, without warmth…
Zhanna and Zina walked to the table and sat down in the places prepared for them. They skeptically examined the dishes Vera had thrown together in haste. The moment Vera sat down in her own seat, it began.
“These salads are completely tasteless, and the meat is rubbery,” Zhanna said.
“Mmm, yes, you can really see how you were waiting for us. Katya, do you feed your children this?” Zina said indignantly, looking at her niece seated nearby.
“Everything seems tasty enough. Even if it is from the store,” Katerina said with an ironic smile.
“Really? I never would have guessed. Vera’s food is always delicious—I thought she cooked it herself,” Vera’s close friend Lyuda laughed.
Just a couple of barbed comments were enough to leave the birthday girl sitting there red as a tomato. But Misha was the most ashamed of all. He kept shooting Vera dark looks from the side. When the guests left, Aunt Zina and Aunt Zhanna stayed behind in Vera’s apartment and announced their news: they hadn’t come just to enjoy the celebration at their nephew’s wife’s party.
“We’re going to stay with you for a few days, and then we’ll go to Zina’s daughter’s place in the south.”
“For a few days? But you still have to go to another part of the city,” Vera said in surprise.
“I sold my house, and Zhanna sold hers too. We combined our money and want to move permanently to the seaside. And you’re unhappy that we’re staying, are you, Verochka?” Aunt Zina asked reproachfully, glancing at Misha.
“Vera, come here for a minute. Aunties, make yourselves comfortable. You’ll be fine here.”
Misha gestured toward the uncleared table covered with dishes.
“We are not going to sleep on the floor. Take us to a hotel or give us your bedroom,” her husband’s aunt complained after descending on her nephew’s new apartment.
“My back is bad! Misha, is this really how you’re going to host us?” Zhanna asked quite seriously.
Misha turned crimson with shame. He had always been used to being the good boy. His aunts had helped him a lot after his mother and father died.
He couldn’t refuse them, especially since he had other hopes tied to their visit.
“Vera will change the bed linen on our bed now, and we’ll manage somehow here. I’ll sleep on the armchair-bed, Vera on the couch—it doesn’t unfold.”
“But Misha?!” the birthday girl protested.
“That’s my boy! And listen to your wife less. Vera is turning you into a henpecked man, son,” Aunt Zina said in a motherly tone full of concern.
Misha and Vera had a fight that evening.
Vera did not want to sleep on the couch, not just because of comfort, but on principle. Ever since she married Misha, the aunts had constantly picked at her and tormented her with little complaints. It was subtle, bit by bit, but Vera’s patience had run out.
“I’m going to my mother’s right now, Misha,” she whispered, standing by the wardrobe.
Her husband took out the bedding himself and struggled with the duvet cover.
Her mother stroked her shoulder and said that Zhanna Arkadyevna and Zinaida Arkadyevna were simply strict women. They had achieved everything in life on their own, had lost their husbands early… in short, they were just dry, difficult women with not the easiest characters.
“But Misha loves you. Don’t bottle up the negativity. They’ll leave today, and everything will be fine between you and your husband,” her mother tried to reassure Vera.
Vera sighed and noticed two female silhouettes in the doorway, each holding a scraggly little bouquet of flowers.
“And so there’s nowhere for us to sit, is that it? What a fine way to welcome relatives to the table!” Aunt Zhanna complained. “Vera, how narrow-minded you are! They sold their house, and their daughter has money to burn! Didn’t you understand why they stayed?”
“Sorry, but no! I don’t believe in your aunts’ generosity!”
“Fine then, have it your way. I’m not sharing with you!” Misha declared. “And anyway, they’re right. You push me around and are molding who knows what out of me!”
Vera did not want to go to her mother’s. She went into the kitchen and started washing dishes, furiously slamming them onto the drying rack.
By the time Vera cleared the table and washed everything after the guests, the aunts had already settled into their bedroom. Misha lay with closed eyes on the armchair-bed in the living room and said nothing.
“We made a mistake buying this apartment, Vera. Now we’re going to get divorced—who’s going to take over the mortgage?”
“Oh, is that so? Because I voiced my opinion, we’re getting divorced? Well, Misha!” Vera burst out.
She went to sleep on the flat, creaky old sofa they had taken from their previous apartment and moved into the new two-room flat.
That evening and the next morning the spouses did not speak.
Vera got ready for work, drank tea in the kitchen, and left so she would not have to wait on the guests first thing in the morning. Today she had finally understood exactly what was wrong with her health. And that worried her no less than her husband’s words about the coming divorce.
Apparently Misha was not planning to go to work either. It seemed he had decided to see his aunts off to the train station and put them on the train so they would think better of him.
That evening, when Vera returned, she saw that the aunts’ things, clothes, and shoes were gone from the house.
And so was her husband.
She hadn’t wanted to call Misha because she was still offended, but suddenly something made her call and find out where Mikhail had disappeared to.
“I’m at a friend’s, Vera. I’ll be late—it’s Friday,” her husband said.
“And how are your aunts? What else didn’t they like?”
“They don’t like me! As always, their favorite has been her,” her husband answered dryly. “They left the money to my sister. They handed a large sum over to Katya and her children right in front of me, can you imagine?”
Vera had always known that Zhanna and Zina loved their niece more, even though they kept saying they did everything for Misha.
“They said I already owed them enough! That I was supposed to host them, drive them around, pick them up, like some servant!” Misha burst out incoherently.
Misha fell silent for a moment; it hurt that his hopes had dissolved so easily.
“She’s pregnant, can you imagine? Having a third one! And we don’t have children, Vera. So that means we don’t need help—that’s what the aunties said.”
“Come home. Stop wandering around your friends’ places,” Vera said, rubbing her temples.
“Vera, stop bossing me around!” the man snapped.
“We need to discuss the divorce,” Vera said.
“Why are you clinging to words?! They gave half a house to Katya because she’s having another brat, can you imagine?!” Misha lamented.
“We’re having a baby. I took a test,” his wife inserted into Mikhail’s tirade.
And then Misha fell silent.
“How? Really?” he asked, hope in his voice.
Vera cried soundlessly with happiness. She had not even dreamed of it, had not hoped for it—and here it was, a gift for her birthday…
“Vera, you’re my счастье! What divorce? I’m not letting you go anywhere! And I won’t come down on you anymore over trifles and household stuff… Vera, we need to tell the aunties. They still have money left from half the house—maybe they’ll help?” Misha said with a laugh.
“We are definitely not telling your aunts. They left, and that’s wonderful. Later we’ll send them a card,” Vera said and asked her husband to come home quickly so they could celebrate the happy news.
That’s the story from real life. I’ll add a couple of words instead of an epilogue in the comments. Support the story with likes—your comments inspire me.
