The mother-in-law never expected that, after breaking up her son and daughter-in-law’s family, the boomerang would come back to her.
Lyudmila sat at the kitchen table, nervously tapping a spoon against the edge of a cup of cold tea. Her eyes, narrowed with constant dissatisfaction, watched Marina loading boxes into the car outside the window.
“That’s it,” she thought. “Finally, that upstart is out of my boy’s life.”
Alexey stood beside the car with his head lowered, while Liza, their daughter, deliberately turned away and buried herself in her phone.
Lyudmila snorted. She had achieved what she wanted: her son’s marriage had collapsed like a house of cards, all thanks to her “delicate work.”
“Alexey, just look how quickly she packed!” Lyudmila shouted, throwing the window open. “I bet she’d been waiting for the chance to run away with your money!”
“Mom, enough,” Alexey muttered without raising his eyes. His voice trembled with exhaustion. “I filed for divorce, not her.”
“What do you know!” Lyudmila threw up her hands as if swatting away an annoying fly. “She wrapped you around her finger! Lazy, mercenary, couldn’t clean properly, couldn’t cook properly! And you, son, deserve better.”
Alexey said nothing, only clenched his fists harder. He no longer knew how to explain to his mother that her endless nitpicking, gossip, and invented accusations had pushed him to the breaking point. Marina, of course, had not been perfect—who is?—but she had tried.
Lyudmila, however, saw only an enemy in her. First came the hints: “Are you sure she’s faithful to you, son?” Then came outright lies: “I saw her sitting in a café with some man!”
And finally, the culmination: a planted letter supposedly from Marina’s “lover.” Alexey had lost control then, shouted, demanded explanations, while Marina, wiping away tears, simply said, “If you believe her and not me, then we have nothing to talk about.”
The divorce went through quickly. Lyudmila rejoiced, clapping her hands like a child at a celebration. She imagined how she would now take care of her son, how she would bring him back into her little nest, where everything was under control.
But now, looking at his hunched figure beside the car, she suddenly felt a faint stab of anxiety.
“Why isn’t he happy?” the thought flashed through her mind.
However, she immediately brushed it aside. “It’s temporary. He’ll thank me yet.”
Marina slammed the trunk shut, cast one last glance at the house, and got behind the wheel.
Liza, without saying a word, flopped into the back seat. The car pulled away, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a silence that hung in the air like a heavy curtain.
Lyudmila closed the window and smiled to herself.
“Victory,” she thought.
But for some reason, something tightened in her chest, as though someone invisible had whispered, “And what now?”
The days after the divorce flowed for Lyudmila like a muddy river—slowly, with an unpleasant residue. She expected Alexey to return to her like before, to eat her borscht, listen to her advice, and praise her wisdom.
Instead, her son became strangely silent. He visited her less often, always with his shoulders slumped, as if carrying a heavy burden. One day, sitting at the table, he suddenly said:
“Mom, are you happy now? Marina is gone, I’m alone, Liza barely sees me. Is this what you wanted?”
Lyudmila dropped her spoon in surprise. The loud clatter against the tile made her flinch.
“How can you say that?” she exclaimed indignantly, throwing up her hands. “I did it all 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.”
Lyudmila wanted to object, but the words stuck in her throat. She saw her son aging before her eyes—the wrinkles on his forehead had deepened, his eyes had grown dull.
He tried to rebuild his personal life, even brought a couple of new women home, but each of them disappeared 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 avoiding Lyudmila, inventing excuses.
Meanwhile, Marina, strangely enough, blossomed. After the divorce, it was as if she had thrown a heavy burden off her shoulders.
Later, she got a job at an advertising agency and managed to buy herself a small apartment.
Liza, although she struggled with the divorce, gradually got used to her new life. She saw her mother smiling more often, making breakfast with pleasure, planning the future. But her father… her father became a stranger to her. When Alexey called, Liza hung up, and once she even said:
“You chose Grandma instead of us. Now deal with it yourself.”
Those words pierced Alexey’s heart like a knife. He tried to explain himself, but his daughter was unshakable. And when Lyudmila found out, she only shrugged.
“Well, good. Let her learn what betrayal feels like.”
But anxiety was growing inside her. She noticed that the neighbors greeted her less often, and the friends with whom she used to discuss Marina’s “problems” now avoided her gaze. Once, in a store, an elderly woman to whom Lyudmila had once complained about her daughter-in-law said:
“Lyudmila, you cornered yourself. Why did you need all of this?”
Those words echoed in her head as she walked home.
And suddenly it dawned on her. Her son was pulling away, her granddaughter hated her, and her former daughter-in-law, whom she had considered weak, was now living better than ever.
Deep down, she already felt the boomerang she herself had thrown beginning to return.
Several months passed, and the silence in Lyudmila’s life became unbearable.
Lyudmila pressed her lips together, trying to drive away the thought that she had destroyed all of this herself. But the thought would not leave. It gnawed at her like a hungry mouse.
Meanwhile, Alexey had completely lost himself.
He tried calling Marina, wrote long messages full of apologies, but she replied briefly and coldly:
“Alexey, it’s over between us. Live your life.”
One day, he decided to go to her. He stood outside the door of her new apartment, clutching a bouquet of daisies in his hands—her favorites. Liza opened the door. Seeing her father, she froze, then blurted out:
“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 guilty. Give me a chance to fix everything.”
“Fix everything?” Liza crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes flashing with hurt. “You left because you believed Grandma, not us. It’s too late now.”
The door slammed shut in his face. Alexey stood there for another minute, staring at the peeling paint on the doorframe, then dropped the flowers on the floor and left.
That evening, for the first time, he did not answer his mother’s call. Lyudmila called again and again, but all she heard were long beeps. She threw the phone onto the sofa and screamed into the emptiness:
“What is this! I did it all for him!”
The next day, she decided to visit her son. Alexey opened the door—unshaven, with red eyes, wearing a wrinkled T-shirt. When he saw his mother, he frowned.
“Why did you come, Mom?”
“What do you mean, why?” Lyudmila stepped inside, looking around at the mess. “Just look at what you’ve turned your life into! This is all because of her, because of that Marina!”
“Enough,” Alexey cut her off, his voice firmer than ever. “This isn’t because of Marina. It’s because of you. You destroyed everything. I lost my wife, my daughter, and now myself. And you know what? I don’t want to see you anymore.”
Lyudmila froze as if she had been struck. She opened her mouth to object, but her son had already turned away, making it clear the conversation was over.
For the first time in her life, she felt that she was losing control.
At home, sitting in the dark, she suddenly heard the neighbor behind the wall laughing with her grandchildren. The sound cut through her heart. She understood: Liza would no longer come to her with drawings, would no longer hug her, would no longer call her “Grandma.” And Alexey… he was a stranger now.
Meanwhile, Marina and Liza were having dinner in their bright kitchen. On the table was pizza they had baked together; the air smelled of herbs and laughter. Marina looked at her daughter and said:
“You know, Liza, I was afraid we wouldn’t manage. 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 said nothing, but a spark of relief flashed in her eyes. She had won—not out of revenge, but simply because she had chosen herself and her daughter.
Lyudmila woke from the cold. The bedroom window was slightly open, and a draft wandered through the room, stirring the curtains like ghosts of the past. She lay for a long time, staring at the ceiling, where a cobweb in the corner seemed like a map of her mistakes. The phone had been silent for a week—no call from Alexey, no word from Liza.
Even the neighbor who used to drop by for tea now passed her by, looking away. Lyudmila got up, threw on an old robe, and wandered into the kitchen. The kettle boiled, but she did not make tea. She simply sat there, listening to the steam hiss and dissolve into the silence.
That day, she decided to take a walk. She put on a coat she had not worn in a long time and went outside. Spring had already come into its own: the sun warmed the asphalt, children ran around the yard, and somewhere in the distance a tram rang. Lyudmila walked slowly, leaning on a cane she had once considered unnecessary. Her gaze fell on the playground, where a girl who looked like Liza was spinning on the merry-go-round.
Her heart tightened. She remembered how she used to bring her granddaughter here, how Liza would laugh, stretching out sticky ice-cream-covered hands.
“Grandma, you’re the best!” Liza had shouted then.
And now… now she would not even look in her direction.
Lyudmila reached the park and sat down on a bench. Nearby, an old woman was feeding pigeons, and the birds flocked to her, flapping their wings. Lyudmila suddenly felt envious—at least someone came to that woman. She took a handkerchief from her pocket, wiped her eyes, and whispered to herself:
“What have I done…”
Her voice drowned in the sound of the wind. She remembered how proud she had been of her “victory” over Marina, how happy she had been when her son filed for divorce. She thought she was saving him, bringing her family back to herself. Instead, she was left alone.
Alexey no longer called, and when she dialed his number herself, he rejected the call. Liza, once meeting her near the store, simply walked past as if Lyudmila did not exist. And Marina… Marina was living her own life, and judging by the rumors, she was doing better than ever.
In the evening, Lyudmila returned home.
Her boomerang had come back, striking harder than she could ever have imagined.
And at that same time, warm light glowed in Marina’s apartment. Liza was drawing something at the table, while Marina cooked dinner, humming an old song.
Lyudmila, however, was left with silence.
And it was already impossible to fix it.
