— You’ve forgotten yourself, Irina. This dacha and this apartment — they all belong to my son. So you’d better keep quiet if you want to stay here for long.

— You’ve forgotten yourself, Irina. This dacha and this apartment — they all belong to my son. So you’d better keep quiet if you want to stay here for long.

Irina had been living with her husband for several years already. Together with Anton, they were raising their wonderful daughter, Ksenia, who was about six at the time. Thanks to a fortunate set of circumstances, Irina was able to return to work earlier, when their daughter started daycare at two and a half. That was when her mother, Svetlana Leonidovna, came to help, looking after her granddaughter whenever little Ksyusha was sick.

However, after half a year, Svetlana Leonidovna began suffering from back pain and could no longer help her daughter as often. Then Anton decided to rely on the support of his own mother — Anna Pavlovna.

The mother-in-law was a strict woman, after all, a teacher with many years of experience. She believed that her daughter-in-law should manage everything on her own. But still, she agreed to her only son’s request.

— Anna Pavlovna, thank you so much, — Irina tried to be polite, though she understood that her relationship with her mother-in-law would never be easy.

— Thank you? — she scoffed. — Thanks to you I have to take sick leave from work. Maybe you should start looking after your child yourself. She’s always sniffling.

— But this is only the second time in two years… — Irina replied with a guilty look.

— So what? My job is more important! — the mother-in-law clicked her tongue and went home, leaving Irina feeling confused and hurt.

Irina never turned her daughter against her grandmother. On the contrary, Ksyusha enjoyed spending time with Grandma Anya. Still, Irina noticed that her daughter became overly obedient around her mother-in-law, as if she were afraid of doing something wrong. Anna Pavlovna knew how to enforce strict discipline on anyone — even her adult colleagues at school, let alone a child.

— Grandma said I shouldn’t laugh like that, — Ksyusha once said, lowering her eyes sadly.

— Why not? — Irina asked gently.

— Grandma said girls should be modest and quiet.

Irina’s heart ached. Her cheerful, sunny little girl was becoming shy and overly reserved under her grandmother’s influence. Fortunately, the visits were not too frequent. Ksyusha was growing up, getting sick less often, and Irina was able to manage these little troubles herself, occasionally taking sick leave to stay home with her daughter.

But one day everything changed. Anna Pavlovna divorced her husband just before their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Ivan Andreevich left her for another woman. And not even a younger one. No, she was the same age. And she didn’t look any younger or prettier than Anna Pavlovna. The woman was beside herself with anger.

“How dare he! Acting up at his age!” — she thought, slowly turning Anton against his father.

Anna Pavlovna began showing up more and more often at her son and daughter-in-law’s home, because in her own apartment there was no one left to manage. She would come in without calling, as if it were her own place, sweep the room with her strict gaze, and hand out her “valuable” instructions and advice to Irina.

— Is this supposed to be order? Napkins should be folded differently! — she grumbled, adjusting the stack in the kitchen.

— Irina, pots should be arranged by size, from largest to smallest. This is elementary! — she commanded sternly.

— Ksyusha, don’t run around the house, you’ll knock something over! A girl should behave modestly. Sit down and draw.

At first, Irina tried to ignore it. She understood that her mother-in-law was going through a difficult time. Divorce after so many years of marriage had thrown Anna Pavlovna off balance. One could pity her and forgive the excessive nagging.

But soon the visits became daily. Every evening, after work, at the same time, Anna Pavlovna appeared at their door. Irina already felt there was no personal space in the house, that the air itself seemed to vanish as soon as she saw her mother-in-law.

— Anton, I can’t go on like this, — Irina told her husband one evening. — I understand that it’s hard for your mother, but we have our own family. She comes almost every day and looks for something to criticize.

Anton sighed, scratched the back of his head, and tried to justify his mother:

— Well, you know, she’s worked at school all her life. It’s hard for her to change. Besides, she’s all alone now, she’s bored.

— Exactly! — Irina looked at her husband seriously. — She needs something else to keep her busy, instead of monitoring how I arrange the pots. You know what I thought? Buy her a dacha. A small house somewhere near the city. Let her tend the garden, the flowers. It will distract her.

Anton frowned.

— A dacha? But that’s extra expenses…

— At least it will save everyone’s nerves. Hers and ours. Think about it, — Irina said softly but firmly. — She’ll have her own space. Otherwise soon we won’t even be able to have a normal conversation.

Anton thought it over. On the one hand, he loved his mother and was used to listening to her. On the other — Irina was right. With each passing day, the atmosphere at home grew more tense.

The next day he cautiously brought up the idea of a dacha to his mother for the first time…

At first, Anna Pavlovna reacted with hostility.

— A dacha? Why would I need that headache! — she protested. — What, you want to ship me off somewhere far away so I don’t get in your way? I’m still a young woman, I’ve got plenty of energy! I’m not some old crone to sit all weekend at a dacha.

Anton tried to explain that it wasn’t a punishment, but on the contrary — a chance to get distracted, to take up something new. But his mother held her ground, waving her hands in irritation.

— I’m not going to sit all alone on those garden beds of yours! — she snapped, and left late in the evening, slamming the door behind her.

Anton let out a heavy sigh, and Irina just shook her head.

— It’s fine. She needs time. Maybe she’ll change her mind.

Irina turned out to be right. A week later, Anton managed to persuade his mother at least to go see the plot that he and Irina had already picked out for her.

Anna Pavlovna rode with a stone face, but as soon as they got out of the car and she saw the neat little house with a spacious wooden terrace, her expression noticeably softened. The plot was small — just six hundred square meters — but apple trees and currant bushes were already growing in the garden. A neighbor’s cat ran along the path, and from the terrace there was a lovely view of a green corner, overflowing with flowers.

— Well… not so bad, — Anna Pavlovna said cautiously as she walked around the house. — The terrace… it’s spacious. I can just imagine how pleasant it would be to sit here in the evening with a book and a cup of tea with currant leaves.

Anton barely held back a smile. He could see his mother was melting.

— Of course, the house still needs a little work. But that’s just a matter of time. Irina and I will help, — he said gently.

Anna Pavlovna nodded reservedly, but her eyes shone with genuine interest. She was already mentally arranging dahlias and petunias along the beds, picturing herself planting strawberries and dill.

— All right, — she finally said. — If you insist so much, let’s give it a try.

And so Anna Pavlovna got her dacha. Getting there was easy — only half an hour by car. She had been driving for years, so the road posed no difficulty for her.

Anton registered the property in his own name, since the money was shared — his and Irina’s. But Anna Pavlovna didn’t even think about that. She was far too absorbed in her new venture, and it was as if she had come alive again.

As soon as the weather warmed, she practically moved into the dacha. From spring until late summer, she lived there almost all the time. From morning to evening she tended the beds, pruned the trees, planted flowers, and even started a small vegetable garden.

Anton, Irina, and Ksyusha often came too — sometimes to help dig the soil, sometimes to bring seedlings, and sometimes just to spend the weekend outdoors. Together they painted the fence, fixed the roof, set up the terrace, and even re-papered the walls in one of the rooms. By midsummer, the dacha looked well cared-for and cozy — like something out of a country living magazine.

Irina was sometimes astonished at how much her mother-in-law had changed. It seemed that working the land had restored her zest for life: tired but content, Anna Pavlovna would step out onto the terrace in the evenings and proudly show everyone what she had accomplished.

And then one day, in August, when the garden was full of apples, the whole family gathered at the big outdoor table. The grill smoked, kebabs sizzled, and Ksyusha happily ran barefoot through the grass. Everyone laughed, talked, and savored the rare sense of family harmony.

And suddenly, as dinner was winding down, Anna Pavlovna put down her fork and said in an even but cold tone:

— Well then… thank you, of course, for your help. We’ve put the house in order, the garden too. But now I want to live here alone. I need solitude. You’ve done your part, and from here on I’ll handle it myself.

Silence fell over the table. Irina was stunned, Anton frowned, and little Ksyusha stared at her grandmother in confusion.

— Mom, are you serious? — Anton couldn’t hold back. — We’ve always come here as a family, we did everything together…

— You said this plot was for me, — the mother-in-law cut him off. — So I want to be here on my own.

It sounded harsh and hurtful. Especially for Irina, who had poured so much effort and patience into making the dacha what it was. But she only smiled faintly and thought:

“Well, that’s fine. At least the apartment will finally be quiet, without her constant lectures.”

That same evening, Irina and Anton packed up their things and returned to their apartment. Anton, sober as always, drove them calmly back home. No one spoke a word on the way. Ksyusha dozed peacefully in the back seat, while Irina thought of only one thing:

“Let her stay there by herself. The main thing is that our home will finally be peaceful.”

And indeed, the next few weeks passed surprisingly quietly. Anna Pavlovna didn’t call or drop by, and a new atmosphere seemed to settle over the apartment. Irina finally breathed freely: evenings passed peacefully with just the family, without stern remarks and constant criticism.

But the joy was short-lived. As soon as the cold October days arrived and the dacha season ended, Anna Pavlovna began visiting frequently again. She appeared without calling, just as before, and it was as if she had been gathering strength in the fresh air only to unleash a new wave of criticism on her daughter-in-law.

— How many times have I told you: shoes must be lined up by size! First the men’s, then yours, and only then Ksyusha’s, — she scolded the moment she crossed the threshold.

— Irina, you’re ironing Anton’s shirts wrong, look at all these creases! — the mother-in-law grumbled, peering into the closet…

— Ksyusha, stop drawing on the floor! A girl should sit at the table, not sprawl about like some boy!

Irina endured it. She had grown used to holding back for Anton’s and Ksyusha’s sake. But one evening, when her husband was delayed at work, her patience finally snapped.

Anna Pavlovna was once again pacing the apartment, sternly listing everything she disapproved of. Irina stood in the kitchen and suddenly, surprising even herself with such resolve, she turned sharply:

— You know what, Anna Pavlovna… If you don’t like us visiting your dacha, then don’t come visiting our apartment!

The mother-in-law froze. For a moment, astonishment flashed in her eyes, then something cold and venomous. She narrowed her eyes and said with emphasis:

— You’ve forgotten yourself, Irina. That dacha and this apartment — they all belong to my son. So you’d better keep quiet if you want to stay here for long.

Those words hit Irina harder than any criticism. She felt the ground slip from under her feet: here it was — her mother-in-law’s true attitude.

— Excuse me, but Anton and I bought this apartment together. With a mortgage, no less.

— Oh, of course! You were on maternity leave for two years. Don’t talk to me about rights. I know better than you, dear, — Anna Pavlovna sang out in a sweetly poisonous voice.

— If that’s what you believe, then I’ll ask you to leave! — Irina flared up. — Don’t you dare show up here again until you apologize to me and stop criticizing everything in sight. I’ve had quite enough of it!

Anna Pavlovna gasped at her daughter-in-law’s unexpected tone. She gathered her things and walked out with her head held high.

When Anton came home, Irina told him everything. She issued an ultimatum:

— Either your mother apologizes, or she never sets foot in this house again. I refuse to put up with her mocking tone any longer. And if you go against me, then expect divorce and property division. It seems Anna Pavlovna has forgotten whose apartment this really is.

— Yes, yes, all right, — Anton tried to calm his furious wife. — I’ll talk to her. You must have misunderstood her.

The next day Anton kept his word and called his mother.

— Mom, I’ll come by after work. We need to talk, — he said calmly.

Anna Pavlovna immediately understood:
“She’s already complained, that viper!”

That evening she met her son armed and ready — with reproaches and counterarguments prepared.

— What, your wife’s been filling your head about me? — she shot from the doorway as soon as Anton stepped inside.

Anton gave his mother a weary look, set a bag of fruit on the table, and calmly said:

— Mom, let’s drop the tricks. You know yourself you’re going too far.

— Me? Going too far? — Anna Pavlovna exclaimed, throwing up her hands. — If it weren’t for me, your home would have drowned in filth long ago!

Anton sighed. He knew arguing was useless. But he also knew exactly what argument would work.

— Mom, I’ll be blunt. If Irina decides to file for divorce, you’ll be left without your dacha. Because it’s registered under my name, and that means it will be subject to division of property.

Anna Pavlovna froze. Her lips trembled, shock flickered in her eyes. She had completely forgotten about the legal side when she agreed to the dacha. After all, Anton and Irina had put the money in together.

— How… can that be? — was all she managed to whisper.

— That’s how it is, — Anton continued steadily. — I’m not divorcing Irina. She’s carrying our second child. Soon we’ll have a son. And if you want to stay close to our family, you’ll have to accept it. Visit us if you like, but without yelling and reproaches. Spend time at the dacha if you want. But stop destroying our family.

His words fell like a heavy weight. Anna Pavlovna gasped and sank onto a chair. It was bitter to realize her power was slipping away. But even more bitter — to know her son had firmly taken his wife’s side.

She was silent for a long time, then merely waved her hand wearily:

— Fine… Have it your way.

Anton knew that would work. His mother could out-argue anyone, but losing the dacha she had grown so attached to was something she couldn’t bear.

Later that day, Anton returned home. From the doorway he told his wife that his mother would think it over and apologize.

— Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Besides, you shouldn’t stress right now, — he said.

— All right, thank you. Honestly… I didn’t think you’d confront her yourself. You usually prefer to avoid such conflicts.

— What choice do I have? I started a family, which means I have to take responsibility and protect it.

— Thank you… — Irina embraced her husband and kissed him.

And that evening, their apartment was once again filled with true peace — no need to apologize to anyone, and no need to wipe the same shelf for the hundredth time.