— Dust on the shelves again. — Valentina Petrovna ran her finger across the dresser and grimaced in disgust.
I froze by the sink with a towel in my hands.
This was already the third day in a row she barged into our home unannounced, as if testing a candidate for the role of the perfect daughter-in-law, not just visiting.
Andrei had left for his rotation only a week ago, and his mother had already turned my life into hell.
— I wiped them yesterday, — I tried to defend myself, but my voice cracked treacherously.
— Yesterday?! — she mimicked. — A normal woman cleans every day!
My son deserves order!
She walked through the room like an inspector, her gaze catching every flaw: a glass ring on the table, a crumpled pillow, a newspaper on the sofa.
— Katya, do you even understand that a man comes home tired?
— she turned sharply toward me. — And he sees this mess…
No wonder Andryusha prefers living at work now — anyone would run from a life like this.
Her words stung more than any slap. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back tears.
How could I explain we were preparing to renovate the nursery? That he had left to earn for our shared dream?
She didn’t care.
— And what’s this? — Valentina Petrovna grabbed the wedding album from the table.
— Even this is covered in dust!
— Please, don’t touch it! — burst out of me.
But it was too late. She had already begun flipping through the pages, curling her lips in contempt.
— Look at you, how happy you were, — her voice dripped with venom.
— Thought once you snagged a husband, you could relax?
Got an apartment, a rich husband?
— Valentina Petrovna, give me the album.
— Doesn’t it hurt to look at it? — she tore a page.
— There you are in a white dress, so clean. And now? Look at yourself — disheveled, the house a mess!
The sound of ripping paper was like a gunshot. A photo of our first dance split in two.
— What are you doing?! — I rushed to her, but she had already stepped back and continued ripping.
— Teaching you discipline! — she flung the shreds to the floor.
— No point remembering the past when the present is drowning in filth!
The pages fell like autumn leaves. Our smiles, our vows, our guests’ faces — all became trash in her hands.
— Stop! — I pulled the album toward me, but Valentina Petrovna pushed me aside.
— Your tears collect dust faster than any rag! — she hissed through her teeth, tearing the last pages.
— Maybe then you’ll learn to be a proper housewife!
I dropped to my knees, gathering the scraps.
Here — his hand, there — my glance, farther — our intertwined fingers.
Tears fell onto the paper, blurring the memories.
— Are you happy now? — I looked up, still clutching the remains of our history.
— I’ll be happy when you’re worthy of my son, — she replied coldly, brushing dust off her hands.
— Right now, you’re just a village schemer who got lucky.
Something inside me snapped. Three years of effort, three years of trying to please, to appear better, to become “worthy.”
And now — ashes instead of joy, dust instead of love.
— You know what? — I stood up slowly. — I don’t care about your opinion anymore.
— What?! — she turned crimson. — How dare you?!
— I dare. This is my home. My family. And my husband, who loves me just the way I am.
— He just pities you! — she spat.
— You think he doesn’t see he’s stuck with a slob?
Wait until he comes back — I’ll tell him everything!
— Go ahead, — I calmly stepped toward her.
— Tell him how you showed up uninvited.
How you humiliated his wife. How you destroyed our wedding album.
Valentina Petrovna stepped back.
— Don’t you dare threaten me!
— It’s not a threat. It’s me protecting my family. From you.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Andrei!
I pulled it out with trembling hands.
“Hi, sunshine. How are things? Mom isn’t bothering you, is she?”
She saw the screen and reached for the phone:
— Give it here! I’ll talk to him myself!
— No, — I stepped away and quickly typed: “Your mother just tore up our wedding album. I can’t take it anymore.”
His reply came almost immediately: “What?! Put me on speaker!”
I hit the button. His voice filled the room:
— Mom, where are you?
— Andryushenka! — Valentina Petrovna’s voice suddenly turned sweet.
— I just stopped by to check how things were…
— Mom, Katya says you tore up our album. Is it true?
Silence.
— I just… There was so much dust…
— Mom! — Andrei barked so loudly I flinched. — Is it true or not?!
— Well… it kind of happened by accident…
— Accident?! You tore an album by accident?! Mom, are you out of your mind?
His voice was harsher than I’d ever heard it.
I had never heard him speak to his mother like that.
Valentina Petrovna shrank back instinctively.
— I meant well… She’s let the whole house go…
— This is our house! — Andrei cut her off. — Ours, understand?
Not yours! And Katya is my wife, not your maid!
— But Andryusha…
— That’s enough, Mom. Get your things and leave. Leave the keys on the table.
— What keys? — she whispered, pale.
— To our apartment. The ones I gave you just in case, not so you could make my wife’s life hell!
— You… you can’t do this! — she gasped. — I’m your mother!
— And that’s the only reason I’m still talking calmly — Andrei’s voice was ice cold.
— The keys. On the table. Now.
She slowly pulled the keychain from her purse.
Her fingers trembled as she placed them on the coffee table — the same one with the tea ring stain.
— Katyush, you there? — my husband asked.
— Yes, — I coughed, trying to compose myself. — I’m here.
— I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve known…
God, our album… We picked it together…
— It’s okay, — I watched as Valentina Petrovna packed to leave.
— We have digital copies. We’ll make a new one.
— We definitely will. Mom, you still listening?
— Yes, — she muttered.
— Remember this: no more uninvited visits.
Don’t criticize my wife. Don’t interfere in our life. Got it?
Silence.
— Mom! Got it?!
— Got it, — she whispered.
— Good. Katya will see you out.
I walked to the door and flung it open. Valentina Petrovna trudged toward it, but turned at the threshold.
— You turned him against me, — she hissed.
— No, — I shook my head. — You did. With your own hands.
Just like you tore up our album.
She looked like she wanted to reply, but I closed the door, turned the lock, and leaned against it, breathing deeply.
— Katyush? — Andrei’s voice came again. — Is she gone?
— She’s gone.
— How are you?
I looked at the floor, littered with shreds of memory.
One piece lay a bit apart — Andrei in his wedding suit, happy and loving.
— You know, — I picked up the scrap, — I think I’m actually okay for the first time in a long while.
— I love you.
— And I love you.
— Hey, I have an idea, — his voice warmed. — When I get back, let’s do a new wedding photoshoot.
Just us, no fuss, no extra eyes. How’s that?
For the first time that week, I smiled.
— I think that’s a wonderful idea.
— And Katya… No more uninvited visits. I promise.
If Mom wants to see us — it’s on neutral ground, and only if you agree.
— Thank you.
— No, thank you. For putting up with it. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you sooner.
I gathered the photo scraps in my hand. Maybe it really was time to let go of the past?
Not the part where we were happy, but the part where I kept trying to win approval from someone who would never accept me.
— Andrei?
— Yeah?
— Come home soon.
— Two more weeks, sunshine. And I’ll be home.
After the call, I slowly walked through the rooms. Yes, some dust had settled.
Yes, it wasn’t perfect. But this was my home. Mine and Andrei’s.
And no one would ever again make me feel like a stranger here.
I carefully placed the album fragments into a box.
I didn’t throw them away — I kept them as a reminder.
Of the day I finally stood up for myself.
And of the fact that some boundaries are worth far more than any torn photographs.