— We called an ambulance for my mother-in-law, but the doctor said, “She’s perfectly healthy, just a very good actress.”
It was a stifling July night. I lay in bed, unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep. The window was wide open, yet not the slightest breeze entered the room. My husband was breathing evenly beside me, sleeping soundly after a long, exhausting workday. He had to get up early — the morning meeting with his boss wasn’t canceled, despite the unbearable heat.
I was just beginning to drift off when a heart-wrenching groan sliced through the silence from the next room. That’s where my mother-in-law, Antonina Pavlovna, lived. She had moved in with us after my father-in-law’s death. Sergey and I couldn’t leave her alone in the village, so for the past three years, she’d occupied a small room in our city apartment.
The groan came again, this time louder. I sat up abruptly and nudged my husband in the side.
— Seriozha, wake up! Your mother’s not feeling well!
My husband stirred sleepily, eyes still closed.
— What? What’s going on?
— Antonina Pavlovna is moaning. Go check on her.
Sergey reluctantly got up and, shuffling his slippers, made his way to his mother’s room. I threw on my robe and followed him.
My mother-in-law was lying on the bed, clutching her chest. Her face was twisted in pain, her eyes closed.
— Mom, what’s wrong? — Sergey sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand.
— Oh, son, I’m dying, — Antonina Pavlovna whispered faintly. — My heart… it hurts so much, it’s burning like fire. The pain spreads to my left arm and under my shoulder blade.
I switched on the light and came closer. She really did look unwell — pale, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. Her breathing was heavy; from time to time, she shuddered in pain.
— We need to call an ambulance, — I said firmly. — It could be a heart attack.
— Yes, yes, call them, — groaned my mother-in-law. — But I’m afraid they won’t make it in time. I can feel it — my end is near. Seriozhenka, my dear son, listen to your wife, take care of the children…
— Mom, stop it, — Sergey squeezed her hand nervously. — The ambulance will be here soon. Everything will be fine. Natasha, call them!
I rushed to the phone and dialed 103. I explained the situation to the dispatcher and gave her our address. The woman on the line assured me that a team was already on its way and advised giving the patient a nitroglycerin tablet if we had one.
We did — my mother-in-law often complained about her heart and blood pressure, so our home medicine cabinet was overflowing with pills. I grabbed a tiny tablet and hurried back to the room.
— Antonina Pavlovna, here, put this under your tongue, — I said, handing her the medicine.
My mother-in-law opened her eyes slightly, parted her lips with effort, and let me slip the tablet into her mouth. Then she closed her eyes again and resumed moaning, occasionally shuddering all over.
— How are you, Mom? — Sergey asked anxiously.
— Oh, I don’t know, son, I don’t know, — she murmured. — It feels like everything inside is burning… there’s a ringing in my head… and my legs are going numb…
I glanced at the clock — it was around two in the morning. The ambulance should be arriving any minute. I went out to the hallway to prepare her medical insurance card and passport. From the room, I could hear her continuing to lament:
— Seriozhenka, if anything happens, don’t forget to dig up the potatoes in September. And pick the tomatoes I planted too. The jars of jam are on the top shelf in the pantry, don’t forget to take them…
I couldn’t help but grimace. Even in a moment like this, my mother-in-law didn’t miss a chance to bring up the village house and garden she had inherited from her parents. Every year she insisted we spend every weekend there from spring to autumn, helping her with planting and harvesting.
Sergey could never say no to her, so every Saturday we packed the car and drove a hundred kilometers out of the city to toil in the garden instead of resting. I had tried more than once to object, but my mother-in-law’s word was law for my husband.
The doorbell interrupted my thoughts. I hurried to open it. Two people stood on the threshold in medical uniforms — a stout, middle-aged man with a full beard and a young woman carrying a medical case.
— Good evening, ambulance service. What’s the situation? — the doctor asked briskly.
— Please, come in. My mother-in-law is having a heart attack. She complains of chest pain radiating to her arm and under her shoulder blade.
The medics quickly entered Antonina Pavlovna’s room. I followed them.
— Good evening, I’m Mikhail Sergeevich, emergency doctor. What seems to be the problem? — the man asked.
— Oh, doctor, I’m dying, — she groaned. — My heart… it seized up and won’t let go. I thought I wouldn’t live to see you.
The doctor sat down beside her and began the examination. He checked her pulse and blood pressure, listened to her heart and lungs. His assistant efficiently set up the ECG machine. Antonina Pavlovna kept moaning and gasping at every touch.
— Have you had heart problems for long? — the doctor asked while studying the monitor.
— All my life, dear, all my life, — sighed my mother-in-law. — Since my youth I’ve suffered. And today, I can feel it — my end has come. Tell me the truth, doctor, don’t hide it — how much longer do I have?
The doctor exchanged a glance with his assistant, then looked again at the ECG. His face showed mild confusion.
— You know, — he said, removing his stethoscope, — your heart is working perfectly normally. Your blood pressure is fine, and the cardiogram is clean.
— How is that possible? — Sergey exclaimed. — But she feels so bad!
— We were called to see the mother-in-law, and the doctor said, “She’s perfectly healthy, just a very good actress,” — the doctor remarked calmly, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
Then he turned to Antonina Pavlovna. — Be honest — what are you really feeling? And please, no dramatics. I’ve been a doctor for thirty years; I’ve seen it all.
The room fell silent. My mother-in-law stopped moaning, frozen with her mouth half open, clearly not expecting such a turn of events. Sergey glanced back and forth between his mother and the doctor, bewildered.
— I… I really did feel unwell, — she finally managed to say, but her voice was different now — firm and slightly offended. — I felt a stab in my heart and got scared. And you, doctor, are very rude. A person is in distress, and you…
— In what distress? — the doctor interrupted. — You have a perfectly healthy heart for your age. Blood pressure 135 over 85, steady pulse. The ECG is normal. I’d say you’re in excellent shape.
I stood there, hardly believing my ears. Could it be that my mother-in-law had been pretending all this time? But why?
— Listen, doctor, — Sergey interjected, — my mother wouldn’t make things up. If she says she’s unwell…
— Young man, — the doctor sighed wearily, — I’ve been in medicine longer than you’ve been alive. I can tell the difference between real symptoms and imagined ones. Your mother has no signs of a heart attack or any acute condition. Perhaps she had a minor spasm that’s already passed. But what I saw when I entered this room was, shall we say, an exaggeration.
— How dare you! — suddenly snapped Antonina Pavlovna, sitting up sharply in bed. Her movements were surprisingly energetic for someone who had just been “dying.” — I’m an elderly woman — you owe me respect! I’ll file a complaint with your superiors!
The doctor calmly packed his instruments.
— You’re free to complain; that’s your right. But the facts remain — there’s no medical reason for hospitalization. I can prescribe you a mild sedative if you’d like. And I recommend visiting your local physician for a routine checkup.
He pulled out a notepad and wrote something down.
— Here, — he handed the slip to Sergey. — This is the name of the medication; you can get it at any pharmacy. And once again — there’s no cause for concern.
When the medics left, a tense silence filled the room. My mother-in-law sat on the bed with her lips pressed tight, clearly avoiding our eyes. Sergey stood there, holding the doctor’s prescription, looking lost.
— Mom, — he finally said, — what’s going on?
— Nothing’s going on, — muttered Antonina Pavlovna. — That doctor was just heartless, that’s all. My heart really did hurt. But now it’s passed. You can go back to sleep.
I looked at her, and a strange suspicion began forming in my mind. In recent weeks, she had been especially insistent that we come to the village. She complained she couldn’t manage the garden alone, that she needed help. But Sergey and I had finally planned our long-awaited vacation — two weeks by the sea, just the two of us, for the first time in three years. My mother-in-law was adamantly against it, coming up with a thousand excuses why we had to spend our vacation in the village, helping her with the garden. And when she realized we wouldn’t change our minds, she suddenly “fell ill.”
— Antonina Pavlovna, — I began cautiously, — you didn’t stage this whole drama by chance, did you? Three days before our trip to the seaside?
My mother-in-law snapped her head up and shot me a venomous look.
— I don’t know what you’re talking about, daughter-in-law. What “drama”? I really was unwell.
— So unwell that you instantly recovered the moment the doctor called you out? — I couldn’t hold back my sarcasm. — A miraculous recovery!
— Natasha, — Sergey warned in a low voice, — don’t.
— No, Sergey, I will, — I looked him straight in the eye. — Your mother is trying to manipulate us. She knows perfectly well that if she “gets sick,” you’ll cancel our vacation. And we’ll end up in the village again, digging her garden instead of finally resting.
My mother-in-law’s face flushed with red blotches.
— Do you hear that, Sergey? Do you hear how she talks to me? I’m nothing but a burden to her, an obstacle! And I raised you all by myself, spent sleepless nights, went hungry so you could have everything! And now my own son is ready to abandon his sick mother for some seaside fun!
I rolled my eyes. The same old manipulation she used every time she wanted her way. And Sergey always fell for it, overcome with guilt.
— Mom, no one’s abandoning you, — he said gently. — We’re only leaving for two weeks. Aunt Valya promised to check on you every day. And we’ll call you.
— Valya? — my mother-in-law threw up her hands. — She can barely walk herself! No, my dear son, I feel my end is near. My days are numbered. But go on, go, have your fun. I’m afraid when you return, I’ll be gone…
She burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. I saw Sergey falter, the struggle written all over his face.
— Enough, — I raised my voice. — The doctor just said you’re perfectly healthy. This is pure manipulation, and you know it.
— Natasha! — Sergey exclaimed. — Don’t you dare talk to my mother like that!
— And how should I talk to her? — I could feel my temper rising. — She’s deliberately ruining our lives! We haven’t had a vacation in three years because every summer she finds a new reason we have to stay in that village — the garden, the roof leaking, the fence falling down! And now she’s just decided to get sick so we won’t go anywhere!
My mother-in-law sobbed louder, occasionally letting out pitiful moans. That theatrical helplessness always worked on Sergey. I could see him wavering, and I knew — just a little more, and he’d give in. Goodbye, sea. Hello, garden.
— Sergey, — I took his hand, — let’s step outside.
We left the room, closing the door behind us. Muffled sobs still came from within.
— Listen, — I looked him in the eyes, — your mother is completely fine. The doctor confirmed it. She just doesn’t want us to leave.
— But what if she really does get worse? — Sergey said uncertainly. — She’s still an older woman.
— She’s sixty-five, and stronger than both of us combined, — I tried to keep my tone calm. — Remember last summer when she dug up the entire garden by herself because we couldn’t come for the weekend? And then bragged about it to the neighbor Klavdia — I heard it myself.
— Yes, but…
— No “buts,” Sergey. She’s manipulating you — brilliantly, as always. And you keep falling for it. We’ve earned this vacation. Is two weeks for ourselves really too much to ask?
He was silent, his head lowered. I knew that deep down, he understood I was right, but admitting that his mother was manipulating him was more than he could handle.
— I can’t just leave her if she’s unwell, — he finally said.
— But she’s not unwell! — I nearly shouted. — The doctor just confirmed that!
— Maybe it’s something else. Not her heart, but… I don’t know, something else.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Yelling wouldn’t help — it would only make him more certain that I was the heartless daughter-in-law who didn’t care about his mother.
— All right, — I said after a pause. — Here’s what we’ll do. We won’t cancel the vacation just yet. Let’s wait until tomorrow. If your mother feels worse, we’ll call the doctor again. If the doctor says there’s a real problem, we’ll decide what to do. But if she’s fine, as he said today, we go to the sea as planned. Agreed?
Sergey nodded reluctantly.
— Agreed.
In the morning, Antonina Pavlovna came to breakfast looking perfectly normal — alert, neat, and well-groomed, her hair carefully styled. Only her slightly swollen eyes reminded me of her “attack” from the night before.
— Good morning, — she said curtly. — Is there any tea?
I silently set a cup in front of her. Sergey had already left for work, so it was just the two of us. It was my day off, and usually, on such days, my mother-in-law would keep me busy with chores, but today she was surprisingly quiet.
— How are you feeling, Antonina Pavlovna? — I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.
— Fine, — she grumbled. — Still alive, for now.
I sat down across from her.
— Listen, I understand that you’re worried about your garden and your house. But Sergey and I also deserve a break. Just two weeks — that’s not so much, is it?
She lifted her eyes to me, and they burned with sudden anger.
— You took him from me, — she said quietly but clearly. — My son, my only one. He used to be so caring — he called me every day, came every weekend. And now? Once a month, if I’m lucky. Always “busy, busy.” Do you know what it’s like for me? Alone all day, four walls, a TV, and a cat. And now you’re leaving me for two whole weeks.
— But you live with us in the city, — I said, puzzled. — What four walls? You can go out for walks, go to the store, to the park — anywhere you like.
— Who needs me here? — she gave a bitter little laugh. — In the village, I have neighbors, friends, my garden. And here? I just sit all day, waiting for my son to come home from work. No one to talk to.
And then it hit me — all her manipulations and demands to spend every weekend in the village came from one simple thing: loneliness. She was terrified of being alone, of losing her bond with her son, of becoming unnecessary. Without realizing it, she had turned into a manipulator willing to do anything to keep him close.
— Antonina Pavlovna, — I gently touched her hand, — no one’s abandoning you. Sergey loves you very much, you know that. But he also needs his own life. We need time together, to rest and recharge. It doesn’t mean we’ll forget about you.
She pulled her hand away and turned aside.
— That’s what they all say, — she muttered. — And then they ship you off to a nursing home and visit once a year for New Year’s.
— No one’s sending you anywhere, — I began to lose patience. — You’re a healthy, active woman. You should find something you enjoy, something that makes you want to get out of the house.
— At my age? — she snorted. — Don’t be ridiculous.
— Maria Ivanovna from the next building is seventy, and she goes to dance classes for seniors, — I said. — She says they’re great fun. Or there’s a knitting club at the library. Or computer courses for older adults — you could learn to use the internet, make new friends.
My mother-in-law fell silent. For a moment, I saw a flicker of interest in her eyes, but she quickly caught herself and frowned again.
— Nonsense. It’s too late for me to learn anything new.
— It’s never too late, — I smiled. — Just think about it. And we’re still going on vacation, as planned. Two weeks will fly by.
She said nothing, finished her tea, and went to her room. But right before our trip to the sea, she unexpectedly handed me an envelope.
— This is for your vacation, — she muttered. — Buy Sergey some new swim trunks — his old ones are all faded.
Inside were ten thousand rubles — a huge amount for a pensioner. I was genuinely touched.
— Thank you, Antonina Pavlovna, — I said sincerely. — We’ll definitely buy them.
— And don’t forget to call, — she added sternly. — Every evening.
— We promise, — Sergey said, hugging his mother. — Don’t get lonely, all right? Aunt Valya’s nearby if you need anything.
When we returned from vacation, tanned and rested, we were in for a surprise. My mother-in-law greeted us in a new dress, with a fresh haircut and a lively sparkle in her eyes.
— I’ve signed up for computer classes, — she announced while helping us unpack. — You wouldn’t believe how interesting it is! The teacher’s young but explains everything so clearly. I’ve already set up an email and registered on Odnoklassniki. I’ve reconnected with so many old friends!
Sergey and I exchanged stunned glances. In just two weeks, she seemed ten years younger. And, most amazingly, she didn’t mention the village, the garden, or her “heart problems” even once.
Later, I learned she’d met Viktor Ivanovich at the courses — a seventy-year-old widower — and they’d already been to the theater together twice. That autumn, for the first time in three years, we didn’t go to the village to dig potatoes. My mother-in-law announced she had sold the house to a neighbor and didn’t want to “mess around with that garden” anymore.
And the “heart attacks” never returned.
It turned out that all Antonina Pavlovna had needed was to find her place in a new life — and to stop being afraid of being alone.
