Tatiana had just put her son to bed when a message arrived: “I’ll be there soon.” The sender was Anna Lvovna, her mother-in-law. A woman of difficult temperament, to put it mildly—neither caring nor involved, yet full of boldness, vanity, and a relentless desire to appear younger. No one knew her true age—she guarded the number carefully, insisting she was “eighteen at heart.”
When Tatiana was pregnant, Anna Lvovna made it clear from the start: she would not be relied upon. Her busy life—gym sessions, dance classes, dates—left no room for rocking a baby. She was firm:
“I’ve done my time with nappies. Not a day more.”
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. There stood her mother-in-law in a garish dress, hair styled like a television presenter, and heels so high their click echoed through the flat. She strode in like she owned the place, kicked off her shoes carelessly, and marched to the kitchen.
“Tanya, love, make us a cuppa, eh? Been running about like a headless chicken—work, shopping, errands… dead on my feet. Anyway, listen—remember that green dress of yours? The one you wore to the office do?”
Tatiana tensed. “I do.”
“Let me have it. You’ve put on weight since the baby—doubt you’ll fit in it now.”
Her words stung. Yes, her body had changed—but to hear it said so bluntly, and by family, hurt. Yet Anna Lvovna wasn’t finished.
“Don’t you even wonder why I want it?”
Tatiana didn’t reply. She knew the drill—Anna Lvovna was always hunting for her next “prince,” someone younger, wealthier. Her life was one endless audition. No romance ever lasted beyond a few months.
“I’ve a new beau,” her mother-in-law announced proudly. “Handsome, got a car and a flat. But a bit of a ladies’ man, I reckon. So here’s the plan—you’ll message him on Facebook, see if he bites.”
“Sorry, I won’t involve myself in that,” Tatiana said firmly.
“Well! Fine then. Keep your dress—use it as a rag, since it’ll never fit you again!” With a huff, Anna Lvovna stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Of course, she wasted no time complaining to her son. Andrew came home and listened to both sides. He knew his mother was volatile—required careful handling. But still, it grated on him.
“I’ll talk to her, don’t fret,” he murmured, pulling his wife close.
Days passed. Guests gathered for Andrew’s birthday, though an old friend and his family couldn’t make it. Meanwhile, Anna Lvovna rang—not with congratulations, but to lament yet another failed romance.
Then she turned up again, bearing a jar of jam and apologies.
“Forgive me, Tanya. Lost my temper. It’s just… I’m tired. Being alone is hard. Keep searching, but it’s always disappointment. Take Yuri—planned to move in together, but then his son called. Said I was wrecking their family. Turns out Yuri’s drowning in debt, still married, and I was just a bit of fun. And just like that—he cut me off. Like I never existed.”
“Maybe he was scared?” Tatiana offered gently.
“Or weak. His son threatened to settle his debts if he dropped me. And he did. Just like that. Suppose he thought I’d drag him to the register office, then go after his money. Can you believe it?”
As Anna Lvovna wallowed, Tatiana listened in silence. Andrew walked in. While he ate, his mother launched into her usual theatrics—woes about betrayal, exhaustion, loneliness. Fishing for sympathy, as always.
“Mum, maybe ease up a bit? The right one’ll come along,” he said calmly.
“Oh? So I should just sit at home and mope?”
“No, but dial down the drama. Take your grandson to the park. Life’s not just flings.”
“Ah, so you want a free babysitter, is it? No, thanks—your child, your problem!”
“Mum, you’re twisting things again. Find a hobby, not another mess to clean up.”
“A hobby? I want to love and be loved! And if I make mistakes—that’s my right! While you tell your wife to sort herself out—she’s let herself go since the baby. No spark left. Think that’s how to keep a man?”
“Enough! Leave Tanya out of this! She’s just had a baby—give her time. Instead of criticising, try supporting her!”
Anna Lvovna slammed the door on her way out. Tatiana, listening from the hall, felt a lump rise in her throat. Silently, she wrapped her arms around her husband.
Because she knew—her mother-in-law would never change. This was who she was. And all that remained was to learn to live with it—or simply shut her out.
