Irina stood at the kitchen window, watching October leaves whirl in the air before dropping onto the wet asphalt. Ten-year-old Katya was fussing with her homework at the table, glancing at her mother now and then in the hope of getting help with math.
“Mom, how do I solve this one?” the girl asked, pointing her pencil at the textbook.
Irina came over and sat beside her. Katya was a bright child, but math didn’t come easily. From Irina’s first marriage she’d been left with only warm memories of Katya’s father—and Katya herself, the most precious thing in her life.
“Let’s work through it together,” Irina smiled, taking the book.
An hour later her husband, Sergey, came home from work. He was an engineer at a factory and always returned tired, but he tried to give his family his attention. He treated Katya with understanding and care, and Irina valued that deeply.
“How’s my smart girl doing?” Sergey asked, ruffling Katya’s hair.
“Studying math, Daddy Sergey,” the girl replied. She had quickly grown to love her new dad, who never shouted and always listened.
The family idyll didn’t last long. Soon Galina Ivanovna—Sergey’s mother—burst into their lives. She had been widowed a year earlier and now spent most of her time visiting her son, inspecting the young family’s household with a critical eye.
The first signs of hostility showed up immediately. Galina Ivanovna would enter the apartment without knocking, look around the rooms, and wrinkle her nose as if she were seeing something improper.
“Sergey, why does the girl have her own room?” his mother asked during one of her visits. “Isn’t that a bit too luxurious for a child?”
Irina froze by the stove where she was cooking dinner. Katya was playing in her room and couldn’t hear the conversation, but her mother could feel the atmosphere tighten.
“Mom, Katya is part of our family,” Sergey answered calmly. “She needs a place to study and play.”
“Part of the family…” Galina Ivanovna drawled. “Well, yes, of course.”
There was such coldness in her voice that Irina turned and met her mother-in-law’s hostile gaze. Galina Ivanovna looked at her as if she were an impostor.
The next visit brought fresh unpleasantness. Galina Ivanovna came on a Sunday, when the whole family was gathered at the dinner table. Irina had tried to make something special—roast chicken with vegetables and a homemade salad.
“Katya, scoot closer to your mother,” Galina Ivanovna requested as she sat down. “I need a seat closer to my Seryozhenka.”
The girl obediently moved, but Irina noticed her frown. Katya was sensitive and picked up on adults’ moods.
“You cook well,” the mother-in-law said, tasting the chicken. “Although of course it isn’t the way Sergey likes it. He’s been used to different food since childhood.”
“And how exactly?” Irina asked, trying to stay composed.
“Home-style, the real way. Not these modern experiments of yours.”
Sergey kept silent, eating intently and avoiding his wife’s eyes. Irina could see he felt uncomfortable, but he preferred not to get involved in a conversation between his mother and his wife.
After dinner, when Katya went to her room to do homework, Galina Ivanovna launched a full-on attack.
“Sergey, I want to talk to you,” she announced. “About our family’s future.”
“Mom, we already are a family,” her son replied wearily.
“What family?” she snorted. “Strange blood isn’t kin. That girl will never be a real granddaughter. And you’re spending time and money on her—resources that should go to your own children.”
Irina stood at the sink washing dishes, her hands trembling with indignation. The blood rushed to her face, but she forced herself to keep quiet to avoid a scene in front of the child.
“Mom, don’t talk like that,” Sergey said. “Katya’s a good girl.”
“Good, not good—that’s not the point,” she waved him off. “It’s about blood, about lineage. And that girl is a stranger. She has her own room, your attention, and you spend money on her needs.”
“Galina Ivanovna,” Irina couldn’t hold back any longer and turned from the sink. “Katya is my daughter, and as long as we live in this apartment, she will have her own room.”
Her mother-in-law looked at her with undisguised contempt.
“As long as you live…” Galina Ivanovna pronounced slowly. “And who said that will be for long?”
Sergey looked up from his plate at his mother in surprise.
“Mom, what do you mean?”
“I mean that sooner or later he’ll have to choose,” she said coldly. “Between the past and the future. Between other people’s children and his own blood.”
After Galina Ivanovna left, a heavy silence settled over the apartment. Katya was in her room, but Irina was sure the girl had heard the conversation. Children always sense tension between adults.
“Sergey, we need to talk,” Irina said when her husband settled down in front of the TV.
“About what?” he asked without taking his eyes off the screen.
“About what’s going on. Your mother is openly showing hostility toward Katya.”
“Mom is just getting used to the new situation,” he sighed. “She lost Dad; it’s hard for her.”
“Sergey, she’s demanding that Katya give up her room!”
“Mom didn’t demand anything like that.”
Irina sat down next to him and turned his face toward her.
“You heard the same thing I did. Galina Ivanovna thinks my daughter is a burden.”
“Don’t exaggerate. Mom is just expressing her opinion.”
“And what’s your opinion?”
Sergey was silent for a long time, and that silence told Irina more than any words. He was torn between his wife and his mother, but he didn’t want to choose.
The following weeks brought new trials. Galina Ivanovna began coming more often, as if checking how the family lived without her supervision. She criticized everything—from the meals Irina cooked to the way she raised her daughter.
“You spend too much time with the girl,” the mother-in-law declared one evening. “Sergey comes home from work exhausted, and you’re busy with a stranger’s child instead of taking care of your husband.”
“Katya is not a stranger,” Irina said through clenched fists. “She’s my daughter.”
“She’s a stranger to me,” Galina Ivanovna snapped. “And a stranger to our line. And it’s time Sergey thought about his own children instead of wasting his energy raising someone else’s girl.”
At that moment Katya was doing her homework in her room, but the thin walls couldn’t hide the loud argument. The girl was smart and understood she had become the cause of family conflicts.
“Mom, doesn’t Grandma Galya love me?” Katya asked before bed.
Irina sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed and stroked her hair. How could she explain what she herself couldn’t understand?
“Adults sometimes behave strangely, sunshine,” she said softly. “That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”
“But she says I’m a stranger.”
“You are my own daughter, and no one has the right to say otherwise.”
Katya hugged her mother and pressed close. Irina felt how the tension of the past weeks was taking its toll on the child. The girl had withdrawn, played less, and spent more time alone in her room.
The climax came on a November evening. Galina Ivanovna arrived earlier than usual, when Sergey was still at work. She walked through the apartment and peeked into every room as if she were inspecting the premises.
“Where’s Katya?” she asked.
“At school,” Irina replied. “They have extra classes.”
“Good. Then we can speak frankly.”
The mother-in-law sat in an armchair opposite the couch where Irina was and studied her daughter-in-law.
“You’re a smart woman,” she began. “And you should understand that this can’t go on.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That girl is ruining my son’s future. Sergey spends time, money, and emotions on her. And what will he get in return? Another man’s child will never be grateful. She’ll grow up and go back to her real father.”
Irina listened in silence, feeling anger swell inside her. Galina Ivanovna spoke of Katya as if the girl were an object, not a living person.
“Katya doesn’t have another father,” Irina said coldly. “Sergey is her real dad.”
“A real dad must be blood,” the mother-in-law cut her off. “It’s time for Sergey to think about his own children. But as long as a stranger’s child is in the house, he won’t be able to focus on what matters.”
“And what are you proposing?”
Galina Ivanovna got up and went to the window; it was already dark outside.
“I’ve thought about this a lot,” she said slowly. “And I’ve concluded the girl would be better off in a special institution. There she’ll be taught discipline and given the proper upbringing.”
“What?” Irina sprang from the couch.
“An orphanage isn’t as terrible as it sounds. Professionals work there; there’s routine and education. And Sergey will finally be able to build a normal family.”
“You’re suggesting I put my daughter in an orphanage?”
“I’m suggesting you think about the future. Yours, Sergey’s, and the future children you could have if not for this burden.”
Irina froze, staring at her mother-in-law. The woman spoke calmly and deliberately, as if discussing the purchase of new furniture.
“Galina Ivanovna, you’re out of your mind,” Irina said quietly.
“I’m perfectly sane,” the mother-in-law replied. “And I’m saying what Sergey should have said. But my son is too soft to make hard decisions.”
At that moment a key turned in the lock and footsteps sounded in the hall. Sergey had come home from work.
“Hi, my dears,” he called, taking off his jacket.
Galina Ivanovna straightened and gave Irina a warning look.
“Think about what I’ve said,” she whispered. “And remember: I always get my way.”
Sergey came into the room and saw the two women standing facing each other in tense silence.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking from his mother to his wife.
“We were just chatting,” Galina Ivanovna smiled. “About family matters.”
“Yes,” Irina nodded, trying to stay calm. “About family matters.”
But deep down she knew: a war had begun. And the stake in this war was her daughter’s fate.
That evening, when Katya returned from school, Galina Ivanovna was cloyingly sweet with her son, Sergey. The mother-in-law ostentatiously inquired about his work, asked about his plans, and ignored Katya.
