“I’ll spend my weekend doing whatever I want! I don’t care what you need or what you’ll think of me!” the daughter-in-law put the mother-in-law in her place.

“I’ll spend my weekend doing whatever I want! I don’t care what you need or what you’ll think of me!” the daughter-in-law put the mother-in-law in her place.

Marina opened her eyes and immediately squeezed them shut against the bright sunlight seeping through the half-drawn curtains. Her first thought was a joyful one — Saturday!

It was the first weekend in three weeks when she and Alexey didn’t have to go anywhere, meet anyone, or do anything urgent. She stretched her whole body, savoring the softness of the bed and the quiet of the apartment.

Beside her, Alexey was snoring softly, his face buried in the pillow. His dark hair stuck out in all directions, and there was such peace on his face as Marina hadn’t seen in a long time.

The last few months they had both been working like crazy — she under pressure at the advertising agency where she worked as an art director, he swamped with projects at the IT company. They would come home late, have dinner in silence, collapse into bed, and fall asleep instantly.

Marina carefully got up, trying not to wake her husband, and went to the kitchen. Rain was drumming against the window — perfect weather to stay home, wrap herself in a blanket, and do nothing. She was already planning a lazy morning in her head: coffee, croissants from the bakery next door, maybe a film or a book…

A sharp ring of the phone shattered her plans like lightning splits a tree.

“Hello?” Marina answered sleepily, glancing at the screen and seeing a familiar name: Valentina Petrovna.

“Marinka, dear, are you awake already?” her mother-in-law’s cheerful voice sounded as though she had gotten up at five and already done a dozen chores.

“Good morning, Valentina Petrovna,” Marina tried to put as much politeness into her voice as she could.

“Listen, I was thinking… The weather’s good today, even with the rain. It’s the perfect time to go to the dacha! Time to plant the potatoes, prepare the beds. When will you and Lyosha get here? Will you make it by lunch?”

Marina felt something inside her snap. She quietly closed the bedroom door so as not to wake Alexey.

“Valentina Petrovna, Alexey and I planned to stay home. We’re very tired; we need to rest…”

“Rest?” her mother-in-law’s voice took on a metallic note. “Isn’t working in the fresh air a kind of rest? You two just wither away in your offices! You need to get your hands in the soil — then you’ll have health and good spirits!”

Marina took a deep breath. This topic came up regularly. Valentina Petrovna, who had spent her whole life working as a teacher and then as a deputy principal, couldn’t understand how someone could dislike garden work. For her, the vegetable patch wasn’t just a hobby; it was practically the meaning of life.

“We understand that you enjoy working at the dacha, but we’ve been honest — we don’t want to help. We have other plans for the weekend…”

“What plans?” Valentina Petrovna interrupted. “Lying on the couch? When I was your age, I worked from dawn till dusk, and it didn’t kill me! Do you know how much potatoes cost in the store? And how many chemicals they’re full of! No, homegrown is best — organic!”

Marina bit her lip. This conversation repeated year after year. Her mother-in-law stubbornly kept planting vegetables, even though the harvest barely lasted a couple of months and she bought the rest from the same shop. But explaining that to her was impossible.

“Valentina Petrovna, let’s talk it over with Alexey when he wakes up…”

“What’s there to talk over?” her mother-in-law’s voice grew sharper. “A son should help his mother! That’s sacred! And you, as his wife, should support him — not corrupt him!”

The last word stung. Marina felt anger flare in her chest.

“I’m not corrupting anyone. We just want to rest…”

“Rest!” Valentina Petrovna snorted. “In my day, people knew the meaning of hard work and respect for their elders. All you think about is yourselves!”

At that moment, sleepy Alexey emerged from the bedroom in sweatpants and a stretched-out T-shirt. Seeing his wife with the phone and her tense face, he shook his head knowingly.

“Mom?” he asked quietly.

Marina nodded and handed him the receiver.

“Good morning, Mom,” Alexey said, switching the phone to speaker.

“Lyosha, my dear! I thought you two were already getting ready! There’s so much to do at the dacha, and I can’t manage it all alone!”

Alexey rubbed the bridge of his nose — a gesture Marina recognized as a sign of growing irritation.

“Mom, we’ve talked about this many times. We’re not going to help with the garden. We have our own life, our own plans…”

“What plans?” Valentina Petrovna’s voice now sounded hurt. “What could be more important than helping your own mother?”

“Mom, listen…” Alexey sat down at the kitchen table and wearily rested his head in his hands. “We work twelve hours a day. For the past month, I’ve even been working on weekends. Marina’s exhausted too. We just need to stay home, sleep, and recharge…”

“Sleep!” his mother-in-law exclaimed indignantly. “And who’s going to help me? I’m seventy-two, and I’m hauling sacks of soil all by myself!”

“Mom, why are you hauling sacks?” Alexey’s voice showed his fatigue. “Why do you need that garden? You can buy any vegetables you want at the store!”

“In the store!” Valentina Petrovna snorted contemptuously. “It’s all chemicals there! But your own — that’s your own! Environmentally pure! And besides, the land is life! A person must have a bond with the earth, not just sit in front of computers!”

Marina sat down next to her husband and took his hand. She could see how he was struggling to keep his patience.

“Mom,” Alexey said as calmly as possible, “we respect your enthusiasm for the dacha. But it’s just that — your enthusiasm. We never asked you to plant a garden, and we’ve told you we wouldn’t help. Please, hire some helpers or ask one of the neighbors…”

“Helpers!” Valentina Petrovna shrieked. “Strangers! And my own son won’t help me! What’s the world coming to! I’ve slaved away for you all my life, and now you can’t even devote a single day to your mother!”

“Mom, you didn’t slave away for us!” Alexey’s voice grew firmer. “We’re adults, independent people. We have our own family, our own life…”

“Your own family!” his mother interrupted. “And what am I then — a stranger? I gave birth to you, raised you, educated you! And now some girl has become more important than your own mother!…”

Marina felt her face flush. “Some girl” — they had been married for five years, yet her mother-in-law still treated her as a temporary mistake in her son’s life.

“Mom, don’t you dare speak about Marina like that!” Alexey barked.

“What did I say?” Valentina Petrovna asked with feigned surprise. “I’m just stating a fact. You used to always help, and now your wife forbids it!”

“My wife forbids nothing!” Alexey stood up and began pacing the kitchen. “This is our joint decision! We don’t want to spend our weekends in the vegetable patch!”

“Spend!” the mother-in-law sobbed. “That’s how you talk about helping your mother? Spend time! And who am I doing all this for? For you! So you can have decent food instead of that store-bought poison!”

Marina saw the muscle twitching in her husband’s jaw. She knew — just a little more, and he would snap. Valentina Petrovna knew how to press on sore spots with surgical precision.

“Valentina Petrovna,” Marina said quietly, trying to keep her voice even, “maybe we could find a compromise? We can help you find assistants, even pay them…”

“I don’t need your money!” the older woman snapped. “I need support from my family! I need my son not to forget who raised him!”

“He hasn’t forgotten!” Marina couldn’t hold back. “We help you with shopping, with doctors, with repairs in your apartment! But the garden — that’s your choice, not ours!”

“My choice!” Valentina Petrovna’s voice trembled with indignation. “I’ve lived my whole life for the family! My whole life! And now you’re telling me it’s my choice! Ungrateful!”

Alexey stopped in the middle of the kitchen and took a deep breath.

“Mom, enough,” he said tiredly. “Enough of this emotional blackmail. We’re not coming to the dacha today. And we’re not coming tomorrow either. We have a right to rest.”

“A right to rest!” his mother laughed bitterly. “And a mother has no right to the support of her children? Only duties?”

“A mother has the right to ask, and children have the right to say no,” Alexey said firmly.

“To refuse their own mother!” Valentina Petrovna was clearly performing, though the only audience was her son and daughter-in-law. “How can you! I’m not asking for a fur coat, not for a vacation! I’m asking for help! For a sacred cause!”

Marina felt anger boil inside her. She had endured this manipulation for five years — five years of hearing reproaches about laziness, ingratitude, selfishness. Five years of holding back because Alexey had asked her not to quarrel with his mother.

“Valentina Petrovna,” she said, striving to keep her tone steady, “we are not lazy. We work from morning till night. We have the right to want to spend our weekend at home.”

“Right! All you ever talk about are rights!” Valentina Petrovna raised her voice to a shout. “And where are your duties? Duties to your family, to your elders! I fed you when there was no money! I fed and cared for you when you just got married! And now you can’t even help plant cucumbers!”

“We never asked you for that!” Marina burst out. “We said we’d manage on our own!”

“Never asked!” her mother-in-law laughed scornfully. “You devoured my pies and soups, and now you say you never asked! Ungrateful!”

Alexey stood up and took the phone from his wife.

“Mom, stop,” he said sharply. “Stop right now. You have no right to speak to Marina like that.”

“No right!” Valentina Petrovna screamed. “You’re my son! And if this… your wife doesn’t want to respect the family, let her not come here anymore!”

“Fine,” Alexey said coldly. “We won’t come. Goodbye, Mom.”

“Lyosha, wait!” Valentina Petrovna panicked. “That’s not what I meant! Lyosha!”

But Alexey had already hung up. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, clutching the phone in his hand, breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Marina. “Forgive her — and me. I shouldn’t have let her talk to you like that.”

Marina hugged her husband. She felt his shoulders trembling with suppressed anger.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

But half an hour later, the phone rang again.

“Don’t answer,” Marina begged.

“I have to,” Alexey sighed. “She won’t stop.”

“Lyosha, my son,” Valentina Petrovna’s voice trembled with tears. “Forgive your mother. I lost my temper. It’s just so hard being alone… My back hurts, my hands aren’t what they used to be… And there’s so much work…”

Marina saw her husband’s resolve melting. He loved his mother despite all her flaws and couldn’t bear her tears.

“Mom,” he said gently, “I understand it’s hard for you. But why won’t you hire helpers? We’re willing to pay…”

“Strangers!” Valentina Petrovna sobbed. “They work without heart! They slack off! Family is different! Family works with love!”

“But we don’t know how to work in the garden,” Alexey explained patiently. “We’ll just get in the way…”

“You’ll learn!” his mother said eagerly. “It’s not hard at all! I’ll teach you everything! It’s good for your health! You’ll work with your hands, get some sunshine!”

Marina could feel Alexey wavering. She knew his weak spots: guilt toward his mother, the desire to be a good son, fear of conflict.

“All right, Mom,” he finally said. “We’ll think about it…”

“What’s there to think about?” Valentina Petrovna exclaimed with relief. “Get ready and come over! I’ve already put the kettle on!”

“Mom, we said we’ll think about it. That doesn’t mean we’re coming today.”

“What’s there to think about?” his mother asked in surprise, as though the idea of refusal were inconceivable. “I’m waiting!”

Alexey hung up and sank heavily onto a chair.

“She won’t leave us alone,” he said wearily. “She’ll call every half hour, cry, accuse…”

“And what do you suggest?” Marina sat down opposite him. “Go and spend the weekend on something we don’t need and don’t like?”

“Maybe just this once?” Alexey suggested hesitantly. “Help her with the beds so she’ll leave us alone?”

“Just once?” Marina couldn’t believe her ears. “Lyosha, we’ve done that already! Last year we ‘helped just once,’ and then she demanded all summer that we come to weed, hill, water! Did you forget?”

Alexey lowered his eyes guiltily. Of course he remembered. The previous summer they had spent almost every weekend at his mother’s dacha instead of resting or doing their own things.

“But she’s alone,” he mumbled. “And really, it’s hard for her…”

“Lyosha,” Marina took her husband’s hands, “it’s hard for her because she chooses to take on so much! Nobody forces her to plant a vegetable garden! She could cultivate a smaller plot, hire helpers, or even sell the dacha and buy a better apartment! But she chooses to suffer and drag us into it!”

“She’s still our mother,” Alexey objected weakly.

“So what? Being a mother doesn’t give her the right to run the lives of adult children!” Marina felt real anger stirring inside her. “Lyosha, we’re thirty! We’re adults! We have the right to our own lives!”

The phone rang again. Alexey looked at the screen and sighed.

“If I don’t answer, she’ll call all day,” he said.

“Then pick up and say it clearly: we’re not coming. Period.”

Alexey pressed the green button.

“Lyosha!” his mother’s voice sounded panicked. “Why didn’t you pick up? I thought something had happened!”

“Mom, we just talked…”

“So when will you come?” Valentina Petrovna interrupted. “I need to plan! The rain’s about to stop, and we can start digging the beds!”

“We’re not coming,” Alexey said, and Marina heard a new note in his voice — resolve.

“What do you mean, not coming?” his mother didn’t understand. “What about me? What about the help?”

“Mom, hire workers. We’re willing to pay.”

“Lyosha!” Valentina Petrovna’s voice turned hysterical. “How can you! I counted on you! I already planned everything! And now you’re letting me down!”

“Mom, we’re not letting anyone down. We never promised to help.”

“Never promised! And family ties — do they mean nothing?”

Marina could see Alexey wavering again. His mother knew exactly how to play on his guilt.

“Mom,” he said tiredly, “all right. We’ll come for a couple of hours…”

“No!” Marina said sharply, snatching the phone from his hands.

“Marina!” Alexey was startled.

“Valentina Petrovna,” Marina said into the receiver, striving to stay calm, “we’re not coming. Not today, not tomorrow.”

“What do you mean, not coming?” his mother was taken aback. “What am I supposed to do?”

“The same thing you would do if you didn’t have a son,” Marina replied firmly. “Hire helpers, ask the neighbors, or give up part of the work.”

“How dare you!” Valentina Petrovna shrieked. “How dare you tell me what to do! I’m not your mother for you to give me advice!”

“Exactly,” Marina agreed. “You’re not my mother. And that means you don’t have the right to demand anything from me.”

“Lyosha!” the older woman shouted. “Do you hear how she’s talking to your mother? Your wife is being rude to your mother!”

Alexey stood between them, torn by conflicting feelings. Marina saw his anguish and knew she had to take responsibility.

“Valentina Petrovna,” she said, and there was steel in her voice, “I don’t owe you anything. Alexey and I are adults; we have our own life and our own plans. We’re not obliged to spend our weekends on your hobby.”

“Hobby!” his mother gasped. “She called the garden a hobby! Lyosha, did you hear?”

“Yes, a hobby,” Marina didn’t back down. “Because that’s what it is — a hobby. No one is forcing you to plant potatoes. You do it because you want to. That’s your right. But it’s our right not to take part in it.”

“Shameless!” Valentina Petrovna hissed. “I knew from the start you weren’t one of us! Not a family person! You only think of yourself!”

“Yes, I think about myself,” Marina agreed. “And about my husband. And about our family. And you know what? I’ll tell you something I’ve been holding back for years.”

Alexey looked at his wife questioningly. Marina took a deep breath and said the words she had kept inside for so long:

“I’ll spend my weekends doing whatever I want! I don’t care what you need or what you think of me!”

Dead silence hung on the line. Even Alexey widened his eyes in surprise.

“What… what did you say?” Valentina Petrovna finally whispered.

“I said the truth,” Marina repeated calmly. “My weekends belong to me. And I’ll spend them as I see fit. And your opinion of me doesn’t concern me.”

“Lyosha!” his mother wailed. “Do you hear how she’s talking to your own mother? Will you tolerate this?”

Alexey slowly walked over to his wife and put an arm around her shoulders.

“Mom,” he said quietly, “Marina’s right. We have a right to our own life.”

“Rights! Rights!” Valentina Petrovna repeated hysterically. “All you ever talk about are rights! What about love? About respect? About gratitude?”

“Mom,” Alexey said tiredly, “love isn’t measured by the number of hours spent in the vegetable garden. And respect is a two-way street.”

“I’ve loved you all my life!” his mother sobbed. “All my life! And you…”

“And I love you, Mom. But love doesn’t mean I have to live the way you want.”

“So you’re not coming?” Valentina Petrovna’s voice became quiet and wounded.

“No, Mom. We’re not.”

“I see,” his mother said coldly. “Everything’s clear. So strangers have become closer to me than my own family. Well then, I’ll know.”

And she hung up.

Alexey and Marina stood in the kitchen in silence. Outside, the rain kept drumming, music played somewhere in a neighboring apartment, and a door slammed in the stairwell.

“She’s offended,” Alexey said at last.

“Yes,” Marina agreed. “And you know what? Let her.”

Alexey looked at his wife in surprise.

“Lyosha, how long can this go on?” Marina sat down at the table and looked him straight in the eye. “How long can we live with a constant sense of guilt? We’re adults, we have our own family, our own plans, our own life. We don’t have to report to your mother about every single weekend!”

“But she’s alone,” Alexey murmured. “And she really is getting older…”

“Lyosha, she’s seventy-two, in full possession of her faculties. She can perfectly well hire helpers, ask the neighbors, or simply reduce the number of beds. But she chooses to suffer and blame us for it!”

Alexey sat next to his wife and took her hands.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I know you’re right. It’s just… hard. She taught me from childhood to feel guilty for every ‘no.’”

“I understand,” Marina said gently. “But we can’t spend our whole lives sacrificing ourselves because she doesn’t know how to accept refusal.”

Alexey nodded and squeezed her hands tighter.

“You know,” he said with a faint smile, “I liked how you answered her. ‘I’ll spend my weekends doing whatever I want!’ Straightforward and honest.”

“I’m tired of putting up with it,” Marina admitted. “Tired of feeling guilty for wanting to rest after a workweek. Tired of apologizing for having a life of my own.”

“So what do we do now?” Alexey asked.

“What we planned,” Marina smiled.