The cream-colored wedding invitations, decorated with gold embossing, were spread across the table like a fan. They shimmered softly in the lamplight, as if promising celebration.
Larisa Petrovna, however, curled her lips with disgust as she scrutinized the bride’s photograph on one of the envelopes, as though searching for a flaw.
“She’s not one of us,” she repeated again and again, addressing her husband, who was indifferently flipping through the newspaper.
“Are you even listening to me, Viktor? Our Igor could have had anyone! He’s a promising young man, works at a good company, has an apartment, a car…”
“We have the apartment,” Viktor muttered without looking up.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Larisa Petrovna snapped, lifting her head. “We gave him everything! We devoted our whole lives to him! And what do we get in return?”
He shows up with some provincial girl, some Nastya. She came to the capital, obviously hunting for a wealthy groom. I can see right through girls like that!
“Larisa, calm down,” Viktor finally said, putting the newspaper aside. “Igor is an adult. He’ll decide for himself.”
“An adult!” she scoffed. “And he’s planning to marry the first girl he meets.”
In fact, Igor had known Nastya for almost a year. They met at a professional conference.
She worked for a large logistics company, was intelligent, educated, confident—and nothing like the gold digger Larisa Petrovna had imagined in her mind.
But the verdict had already been passed, and the woman had no intention of changing it.
Whenever Nastya came to visit, her mother-in-law greeted her with a stiff, cold smile that never reached her eyes.
“So, where do your parents live?” she asked with feigned concern, though she knew the answer perfectly well.
“In the Kurgan region,” Nastya replied calmly.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Larisa Petrovna nodded. “The provinces are the provinces. Everything’s probably simpler and cheaper there…”
“Mom, stop it,” Igor cut in.
“Oh come on, I didn’t say anything bad,” she waved him off. “I’m just curious.”
A month before the wedding, Larisa Petrovna caused a real scene.
“Igor!” she shouted in the kitchen, waving her arms in their three-room apartment in a prestigious neighborhood. “Do you even realize what you’re doing?! This girl came to Moscow with just one suitcase! Her parents back in that village of hers probably have nothing at all!”
“That’s not a village, Mom, it’s a regional center,” Igor said tiredly.
“I don’t care!” Larisa Petrovna raged. “She’s from a completely different social circle! Your father and I have connections, status! And what do they have? Nothing!”
“I have love,” Igor said quietly.
“Love!” his mother mocked. “You’ll live with her for a year or two, and then what? She’ll drag her whole family here and want to live with us!”
“We’re not going to live with you,” Igor snapped.
“Oh, so that’s how it is?!” she clutched at her chest. “She’s already turned you against your own mother!”
The wedding did take place after all. Larisa Petrovna arrived at the restaurant looking like someone being led to execution. Her face showed such suffering that the guests couldn’t help glancing at her.
Nastya’s parents arrived the day before. Ivan Sergeyevich and Tatyana Nikolayevna were simple, open, kind people. He was a large man with a firm handshake and a good-natured face; she had delicate features and a warm smile.
“Very nice to meet you,” Ivan Sergeyevich said warmly.
“Likewise,” Larisa Petrovna replied coldly, sizing them up.
Their clothes were good quality but not flashy. Tatyana Nikolayevna’s handbag was simple. Larisa Petrovna thought with satisfaction, “Just as I expected.”
At the reception she sat with a stone face. As soon as Nastya’s relatives stepped away from the table, she immediately began whispering:
“Did you see them? That uncle’s shirt… awful!”
When the bride’s parents danced cheerfully, the mother-in-law practically hissed with rage.
“Like at a village dance,” she sneered. “No elegance at all.”
Meanwhile, the parents were happy. They laughed, they cried, they sincerely rejoiced for their daughter.
After the wedding, the young couple moved in with Igor’s parents. The atmosphere was tense. Larisa Petrovna found fault with everything.
A week later, Igor said firmly:
“We’re moving out.”
“Where?!” his mother shrieked. “You don’t have anything!”
“We do,” Nastya said calmly.
The papers were placed on the table. A one-room apartment in Sokolniki. A gift.
“But… they’re so simple…” Larisa Petrovna whispered.
“Because they’re normal people,” Igor replied harshly.
When everything became clear, the mother-in-law collapsed. The next day she was already being sweet, offering help.
“Too late,” Nastya said quietly.
The young couple moved out. The apartment was bright, overlooking a park. Nastya’s parents sent a photo from Barcelona: sunshine, smiles, freedom.
Larisa Petrovna sat in another part of the city, rereading her son’s short replies again and again. For the first time in many years, she understood that not everything in life can be bought—and that she had learned this lesson far too late.
