On a gloomy October afternoon, rain pattered persistently against the car roof, resembling nervous fingers drumming. Behind the wheel, Lyudmila watched as the windshield wipers struggled to clear the cascading sheets of water. She lingered inside the vehicle, reluctant to step out; visits to her mother-in-law were always emotionally taxing. Vera Nikolaevna had been confined to the cardiology ward for three weeks after a severe heart attack. Despite their chilly relationship, Lyudmila consistently brought her fruit, homemade meals, and updates from home.
As the rain lessened, Lyudmila finally retrieved a bag of treats from the passenger seat and headed toward the hospital entrance. The bleak weather mirrored the turmoil in her heart. Earlier that morning, her husband Sergey had left for work, promising to return late. Yet, his car was parked nearby — indicating he, too, had come to visit his mother. Usually, he only visited on weekends, citing work demands.
Inside, the hospital lobby smelled sharply of antiseptic and medications. Lyudmila ascended to the third floor, exchanging a brief nod with a familiar nurse before approaching the room. The door was ajar, and just then, she overheard Sergey’s muffled voice.
“Mom, are you absolutely sure about this decision?”
“Absolutely,” responded the usually frail Vera Nikolaevna firmly. “This is my choice; I won’t change my mind.”
Lyudmila froze. Both the tone of her mother-in-law and her husband stirred her unease.
“But Lyudmila…” Sergey began, only to be interrupted.
“Lyudmila isn’t involved,” Vera Nikolaevna cut in sharply. “This property belongs to me, and I have the right to manage it as I please. If you refuse to sign, I’ll find another way.”
Sergey exhaled slowly. “I’ll sign. It’s just that I don’t like things happening behind her back.”
Curiosity gnawed at Lyudmila’s heart. What papers were they signing? Why was her husband involved?
Peeking cautiously through the door crack, she spotted Sergey seated beside the bed, holding documents. Standing close by was a stern-looking man in a business suit, carrying a briefcase — a notary. The scene caught her off guard; unsure whether to intrude, she hesitated but stayed put.
“Here, here, and on the final page,” the notary indicated.
Sergey took the pen and began signing, while Vera Nikolaevna beamed with satisfaction.
“Perfect,” she remarked once the signatures were complete. “Now I can rest easy.”
“The documents take effect immediately,” the notary explained. “The deed of gift is properly executed; there will be no disputes.”
Deed of gift? A chill ran through Lyudmila. The mother-in-law owned a downtown apartment and a countryside cottage. Surely she wasn’t transferring everything to Sergey without telling her daughter-in-law? And why all this secrecy in the hospital room?
Taking a steadying breath, Lyudmila knocked and entered with a forced smile.
“May I come in?”
Sergey startled.
“Lyuda! You’re already here?”
“I decided to come early,” she answered, approaching Vera Nikolaevna. “Hello, Vera Nikolaevna. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” came a curt reply. “For my age and condition.”
The notary, who introduced himself as Igor Semyonovich, quickly packed the paperwork.
“I’ll be going now,” he said. “The matter is settled; the rest will be handled at the office.”
Sergey accompanied him to the door, whispering something, while Lyudmila began unpacking the fruits, though her eyes never left her husband. After twenty years of marriage, she had learned to read his slightest gestures — the flick of his brow, the tone of his voice. He appeared stressed and avoided meeting her gaze.
- Homemade puree and cottage cheese — your favorites, I brought them,” Lyudmila offered to her mother-in-law.
- “No need,” Vera Nikolaevna replied reservedly. “The hospital food is quite acceptable.”
- “But homemade is always better,” Lyudmila smiled, although inside she was boiling with unease.
After the notary’s departure, an oppressive silence settled over the room. Sergey sat by the window, tapping his fingers nervously. Vera Nikolaevna stared at the ceiling, seemingly detached from the unfolding events.
“So, were any important matters decided?” Lyudmila broke the silence at last.
“Just some papers,” Sergey shrugged.
“Here, in a hospital room? With a notary present?” She raised an eyebrow. “Seems more significant than you let on.”
“Don’t meddle where it’s not your business,” Vera Nikolaevna snapped. “This is between me and Sergey.”
Lyudmila felt a flush of anger. After all these years in the family, she was still an outsider, still excluded.
“Mom, enough,” Sergey said wearily. “Lyudmila has the right to know.”
“She has no rights,” the old woman stubbornly retorted. “This is my decision, my property.”
“What exactly are you talking about?” Lyudmila asked, shifting her eyes between them.
Sergey rubbed his temples.
“Mom decided to transfer the apartment and the cottage to Kostya.”
“To Kostya?” Lyudmila’s surprise was evident. “Your nephew?”
“He’s my grandson,” Vera Nikolaevna interrupted sharply. “He needs accommodation for his studies. And you and Sergey have plenty of space.”
Indeed, their apartment was spacious. Yet the issue went beyond housing. It was about Lyudmila being sidelined again — decisions made behind her back.
“I understand,” Lyudmila said quietly. “But why couldn’t we have discussed it together?”
“Because you complicate things,” her mother-in-law sighed. “Arguments, questions… I mustn’t worry now.”
“I never interfered with your property,” Lyudmila replied. “You can manage it as you wish.”
“Good,” Vera Nikolaevna nodded. “So everything is alright.”
Yet, nothing felt right. The real problem wasn’t her mother-in-law’s choice — it was Sergey’s concealment. Why had he hidden this from her?
“I need to leave,” Lyudmila said. “They’ll start procedures soon. I’ll come back later.”
Leaving the room, she passed through the lobby and ascended the stairs, needing a moment to calm down. Two decades of marriage, and he still obeyed his mother, still made decisions without consulting her.
Footsteps approached behind her. It was Sergey.
“Lyuda,” he paused beside her. “Let’s talk.”
“About what?” Arms crossed, she challenged. “How you sign papers and don’t tell me a word?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I wanted to tell you. It all happened so fast. Mom insisted—she said she felt bad and needed it done urgently.”
“And of course, you couldn’t refuse,” she said bitterly. “As always.”
“She’s my mother. And she is truly unwell.”
“I know. I’ve never stood between you,” she looked him straight in the eyes. “But you’re my husband. We should discuss these things together, not sneak around.”
Sergey lowered his gaze.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I… got confused. Mom pressured me, saying she might not live to be discharged and wanted everything settled.”
Lyudmila looked intently at him. Over twenty years, she knew him inside out. Now, he was hiding something. That scared her more than anything.
“What else?” she asked directly, locking eyes with him. “What are you not telling me?”
He averted his eyes.
“Nothing,” he replied hastily. “I’ve said all there is.”
“Sergey,” she gently but firmly cupped his chin, making him meet her gaze. “Please don’t lie to me.”
He gave in, exhaling deeply.
“Alright. But don’t tell Mom you know, okay? It’ll upset her.”
“I’m listening,” Lyudmila nodded.
“The deed of gift transfers full ownership of the apartment and cottage to me,” he began slowly. “But only if I pass it on to Kostya after his first university year, provided he studies well.”
“What’s the catch?” she asked, puzzled. “Helping your grandson seems reasonable.”
Sergey hesitated. “The catch is, if I don’t fulfill that condition, Mom can revoke the deed. She has that right.”
Lyudmila frowned.
“How? Is that even possible?”
“It is,” he nodded. “If conditions are included and breached—for instance, if the property is misused or obligations aren’t met. Mom added this clause.”
“So she gifts you the property but keeps control,” Lyudmila said slowly. “This isn’t about the grandson’s welfare. It’s about keeping you under her thumb.”
“You see it too darkly,” Sergey muttered.
“No, I see it realistically,” she interrupted. “She doesn’t trust me, and now she wants you to distrust me, too. She fears our family might manage assets independently. So she makes you her puppet.”
Sergey tried to argue, but footsteps echoed down the hall — a nurse was coming.
“It’s time,” he said. “They’ll start the injections soon.”
Lyudmila nodded, but inside, turmoil grew—not over property or money, but because Sergey was once again captive to maternal influence, making decisions without her knowledge.
In the room, Vera Nikolaevna rested with a triumphant expression, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, as if victorious.
“Did Sergey tell you everything?” she asked when Lyudmila sat beside her.
“Yes,” Lyudmila answered briefly. “You have the right to allocate your assets, Vera Nikolaevna.”
“Good,” the elder woman nodded. “Kostya is my only grandson. He deserves a chance.”
Lyudmila pressed her lips together, wishing to remind her mother-in-law that Sergey and she had a daughter, Anya, whom they adopted after learning they couldn’t have children. But Vera Nikolaevna never acknowledged Anya as her granddaughter, calling her “adopted,” “someone else’s.”
“Of course,” she said quietly.
The nurse announced the start of procedures. Lyudmila rose, relieved.
“We’ll come back tomorrow,” she said.
“Sergey can stay,” Vera Nikolaevna insisted. “We need to talk.”
“No, Mom,” Sergey responded firmly. “I’ll go with Lyuda. I’ll return tomorrow.”
A flicker of irritation passed across Vera Nikolaevna’s face, though she stayed silent.
“As you wish,” she muttered. “Until tomorrow.”
They left silently. Outside, the rain had eased to a drizzle, light droplets touching their faces. Sergey suggested sharing a ride.
“I need to have a serious conversation with you,” he said, starting the engine.
Lyudmila buckled her seatbelt, waiting.
“I made a mistake,” he began as he pulled out of the lot. “Agreeing to this arrangement. You’re right. Mom manipulates me. She always has.”
“And what will you do?” she asked.
“Tomorrow, I’ll tell her I refuse,” he declared resolutely. “Let her transfer the property directly to Kostya or write a will. But I won’t be part of her scheme. I won’t be her pawn.”
Lyudmila looked at him, surprised. Sergey had never said anything like this before.
“Are you sure? She’ll be furious.”
“I’m sure,” he nodded. “I’m forty-five. It’s time to stop being the boy who fears upsetting his mother. And besides…” he glanced at her, “you matter. Our family matters.”
Lyudmila felt breathless. For the first time in twenty years of marriage, Sergey placed their relationship above maternal demands. It felt like a breakthrough.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For choosing us. At last.”
Sergey reached over, taking her hand.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” he said. “I should have realized earlier that Mom would never accept you or stop interfering. It was my choice to stay silent and submit.”
“I understand,” she nodded. “You love her. That’s natural.”
“But you’re my wife,” he replied firmly. “You and Anya are my family. I won’t let anyone come between us anymore.”
They drove through the city streets illuminated by evening lights. Ahead lay a difficult conversation and possible conflict. Yet, for the first time in a long while, Lyudmila sensed they were united. Her husband had finally become her true support.
“You know,” she said gazing out the window, “sometimes it takes betrayal to see who truly stands beside you.”
“Like catching your husband with a notary in a hospital room?” he joked.
“Exactly,” she nodded. “But I’m glad it happened. Maybe now we’ll build a family free from her shadow.”
Sergey squeezed her hand.
“I promise,” he said. “No more secrets. Just us — you, me, and Anya.”
“And maybe Kostya,” Lyudmila added. “If he comes to study here, he’ll need more than an apartment. He’ll need family.”
Sergey looked at her gratefully.
“You’re amazing,” he said. “After everything she put you through, you’re still ready to accept him.”
“He’s your blood,” she replied simply. “So he’s mine too. Not just on paper, but truly.”
Arriving home, Sergey turned off the engine but didn’t get out. He faced Lyudmila and held her tightly.
“I love you,” he whispered. “And I’ll never let you down again.”
“I love you too,” she replied, pressing closer. “And I believe you.”
Inside, Anya awaited them with dinner she had cooked herself and stories from school. An ordinary evening. An ordinary family. Yet for them, it marked a new beginning — a life founded on trust, honesty, and genuine closeness. No matter what challenges tomorrow might bring, they would face them together, as a true family.
In conclusion, this story highlights the complexities that arise when family dynamics intertwine with legal and emotional decisions. It emphasizes the importance of transparency, trust, and unity within relationships, especially when navigating difficult circumstances. Ultimately, open communication and mutual respect form the foundation for overcoming obstacles and building a cohesive family bond.