In the post-operative ward, four women lay in their beds, and as one of them remarked, they were all young retirees. They had recently left their jobs, passing their roles to younger colleagues. In a women-only ward, friendships form quickly, and soon everyone knew the ins and outs of their neighbors’ lives: who was in their families, what signature dishes they cooked, and all the usual women’s topics. They even discussed the visitors who came to see them. One visit was enough to reveal the dynamics of a family, but this ward was fortunate—no one could say a bad word about any of the relatives who stopped by. Still, what’s a conversation without a little gossip? And so, the topic of a terrible mother-in-law surfaced.
Helen Stewart, the one who shared the story about her neighbor, had known her since they were children playing in the sandbox. Their parents, now gone, worked at the same factory and were assigned apartments in the same company-owned building. It was no surprise that the two girls, the same age, became fast friends.
As a rule, Helen, then just little Ellie, would come down from her third-floor apartment and stop by for Clara, who lived on the first floor, and the girls would head out to play in the courtyard. They attended the same school, though in different classes. Their families lived similarly in terms of means—modestly, like everyone else. In that factory building, the girls often visited each other’s homes. They weren’t allowed to play outside when it was cold or windy, as both caught colds easily. Their friendship was strong until ninth grade.
During a school break, Helen noticed Clara had changed. Clara had just returned from a month-long stay in the capital with some relative and now spoke with a city accent, constantly emphasizing it. She mocked Helen’s new dress, saying, “They don’t wear that in the city.” Then she stopped hanging out with Helen. Helen would stop by, but no one answered the door. Clara would watch from an open window, waiting for Helen to leave the building, then call out that she was busy with other things. Eventually, Helen stopped coming by. Their only interactions were brief hellos at school.
A year after school, Helen married a young man from her factory workshop. He lived in a dormitory and moved in with her family after the wedding. Clara didn’t attend the wedding, despite Helen’s invitation. She promised to come but never showed. When they ran into each other by the building entrance, Clara asked:
— Couldn’t you have found someone better?
That was the end of their friendship. Helen loved her husband, and he loved her. When their son was born, their love extended to him, even though that year was tough. An oxygen unit exploded at the factory, killing and injuring workers. Among the dead were Helen’s father and both of Clara’s parents, leaving her an orphan. Helen’s mother, consumed by grief, grew ill and could rarely even take her grandson for a walk. Helen saw how hard it was for her mother to move, though she always found the strength to visit her husband’s grave.
A year and a half later, Helen’s mother passed away, leaving Helen an orphan too. Thankfully, her husband and growing son were by her side.
Soon after, Clara got married. Her fiancé was handsome, stylishly dressed, and wore a tie and hat—unique in their factory building. Helen didn’t know much about their life, though Clara’s windows were always open, and no sounds of arguments ever came through. But one evening, cries and moans echoed from Clara’s apartment. She was in labor, and her husband was nowhere to be found. Helen called the ambulance and went with Clara to the hospital.
When Helen returned, Clara’s apartment was dark. Helen left a note explaining which hospital Clara had been taken to, but the next morning, the note was still in the door. Later, Helen and the neighbors learned that Clara’s husband had left her. Why he left and where he went, Helen never found out.
Clara, now bitter at the world, lived alone—not truly alone, but with her son. She worked, dressed her son in the best clothes, and bought him expensive toys. She probably fed him better than Helen fed her own son. From the open windows, Helen could hear their conversations. Clara constantly praised her son, telling him he was right not to share his toys with other children at kindergarten or in the yard. He was obedient, always neat, and only went out with his mother. Helen couldn’t recall other children ever visiting their home. Everything was with his mother. She even chose his university, and he never objected, accustomed to obeying her.
Two houses down lived another family: a father, mother, and their daughter. Former factory workers, they were among the first to start their own business, opening two small grocery stores. People eagerly shopped there—no expired goods, reasonable prices, and they even let trusted customers buy on credit. This family lived better than most—not extravagantly, but they bought their daughter a one-bedroom apartment. The daughter dressed fashionably, and her parents looked modern too. But they had a problem: their only daughter was unlucky with men. She was attractive, hardworking, and her family supported her, but the few young men she dated would eat, drink, accept her gifts, and then vanish. They quickly figured out she was kind and trusting, unlikely to make a scene. They’d take what they liked—clothes, electronics—and leave without explanation.
If Helen hadn’t known this family, hadn’t watched the girl grow up, she might not have believed someone could be so consistently unlucky in love. But it was true. Now, the girl was single again, quietly crying so as not to upset her parents.
Nearby lived a young, handsome, educated man. He wasn’t a business owner, but he earned a decent living. He lived with his mother—Clara, Helen’s former friend. He still consulted her on every decision, and her authority over him had only grown. Lately, her advice had shifted to the topic of marriage, or rather, finding a bride.
One day, stepping off the bus on his way home from work, the young man saw a young woman helping an elderly lady pick up apples that had spilled from a torn bag. A few apples rolled to his feet, and he joined in to help. The old lady thanked them, and the young man and woman realized they were headed in the same direction. The woman glanced at him briefly.
— Sure, he’s nice, helped the lady with her apples, but what’s the point? I’m just unlucky with guys.
He, however, couldn’t take his eyes off her. She immediately caught his interest. For the first time, without consulting his mother, he took the initiative and offered to walk her home. When they discovered they lived just blocks apart, they were surprised—they’d never crossed paths before. But now, they started meeting regularly. He never showed up to a date without flowers, took her to the theater and concerts, and gave her small but meaningful gifts. He was nothing like her previous boyfriends, distinguished by his tact and kindness. When she introduced him to her parents, they were thrilled. Here was a truly worthy man, and they began to hope their daughter would marry him. Clara, the young man’s mother, also approved, especially when she learned the girl’s parents owned two stores, and the girl worked at a bank and already owned her own one-bedroom apartment.
Clara, forever embittered by men after her husband abandoned her, had long pinned her hopes on her son. He was to take everything life offered—or rather, they would together. So, she gave her blessing for the marriage. The parents met, set a wedding date, and the bride’s parents offered to cover all expenses, noting that they were two, while Clara was alone. This pleased Clara, the groom’s mother, even more.
Clara, Helen’s former friend, was already devising a despicable plan. To her, this marriage was a launching pad for her son—and herself. She planned to take as much as possible from the bride’s family after a divorce she was certain would happen, confident in her control over her son. At the wedding, she played the part of a joyful mother-in-law, hugging the bride and her parents, repeating how perfectly matched the couple was and wishing them nothing but happiness.
Clara’s confidence grew when the bride’s parents gave the newlyweds a generous gift: a three-bedroom apartment in the city center. They apologized that the couple couldn’t move in immediately, as it was undergoing major renovations, but once complete, it would be ready for its new owners.
Some say envy is a cancer of the soul, and that was Clara’s diagnosis. She believed her “cancer” could be cured by taking everything for herself and her son. If the law wouldn’t allow it, she’d find a way to claim that three-bedroom apartment. It would not only be useful but would secure their future. For now, Clara played the role of a loving mother-in-law, visiting the bride’s parents’ home, where the newlyweds lived during the renovations.
But her son visited her far more often, almost daily. He still listened to her, agreeing with everything she said, just as he had as a child. It never occurred to Clara that by mocking her daughter-in-law, she was hurting her son, who loved not only his mother but also his wife and respected her parents deeply.
For a while, Clara held back from openly discussing her plan with her son, dropping hints instead. She constantly emphasized his intelligence, looks, and manners, contrasting them with his wife’s supposed flaws. She even called his in-laws “mere shopkeepers”—not businessmen, not tycoons, just shopkeepers. Her son found these comments upsetting, so she decided to escalate.
— I see you living in that shopkeeper’s house, under your wife’s thumb—who, by the way, I wouldn’t call a beauty even under threat of death. Are you forgetting who I am to you? You know wives come and go, but you only have one mother! Open your eyes! Who are you in their house? Nobody!
Her son left her apartment dejected, unsure what to do. At home, his wife and her family waited for him. They didn’t start dinner without him, asked about his day, and shared their own. Slowly, he shook off his mother’s words, which he increasingly didn’t understand but didn’t dare challenge.
The day came when the renovated apartment was ready. The bride’s mother, not wanting to exclude Clara, decided to invite her to see it. Since they lived nearby, she grabbed a chocolate bar as a small gesture and headed over. As she approached Clara’s building, passing her open window, she overheard her son-in-law’s voice:
— Mom, I don’t love her.
Clara replied:
— Love? I know what love is. You move in, give it six months, then file for divorce and split the assets. I’ve already found someone who’ll make sure you get everything—or at least half. That’s guaranteed.
The bride’s mother froze, stunned by what she’d heard. But Clara continued:
— After the divorce, we’ll sell whatever we get and finish building the summer house. There’ll be enough for a car too. Then you can drive me to the market. Got it, son? It’s your turn to take care of me. Don’t I deserve it? Who raised you, cherished you, dusted you off? Your father? I gave you life, sacrificed my own! Do you understand?
— Yeah, I understand, — her son replied with a heavy sigh. — I’ll go now, Mom.
— Go, but don’t forget—we’re sticking to my plan. I’ve already got the deposit ready for the right person. In six months, we can act openly, — Clara concluded.
The bride’s mother barely ducked into the next building’s entrance to avoid running into her son-in-law. From the doorway, she watched him leave, head down, walking slowly. She pitied him. He was a good man, just spineless, completely under his mother’s thumb. She’d long suspected Clara controlled him, but not to this extent.
When Clara visited, she’d sing praises about the bride and her parents, saying how lucky she was with her in-laws. Yet here she was, plotting. The bride’s parents had worked their whole lives—first at the factory, then in their stores. Until recently, they loaded and unloaded goods themselves, worked as cashiers, and cleaned. Their daughter helped too.
Their daughter…
The bride’s mother’s heart ached for her. She loved her husband, and after so many failed relationships, he was kind and helpful around the house. What would happen when Clara succeeded in breaking them up? Just when her daughter had found joy, another betrayal loomed. No, something had to be done, but the daughter couldn’t know yet. The mother would tell her husband, though he’d be furious, and she’d convince him not to let on that they knew Clara’s plan.
With effort, the bride’s mother visited Clara to invite her to see the new apartment the next day. She wanted to see how Clara would act. Like a skilled actress, Clara greeted her warmly, though she couldn’t resist asking if she’d run into her son, who’d stopped by briefly. The bride’s mother played along:
— No, I didn’t see him. I came straight here to invite you tomorrow. The kids are moving into the renovated apartment, and we’re a bit sad—it’ll be quiet without them.
Clara kept up the polite chatter, saying the kids weren’t moving far and that young couples need their own space. She promised to try to come, showing no hint of the conversation from ten minutes earlier. The bride’s mother resolved to save her daughter and their family.
Walking home, she planned her next steps. After dinner, she told her husband they were going to a neighbor’s to buy cheap vegetables, but instead led him to a park bench. There, she explained how she’d save their daughter’s family, with his help.
Their son-in-law worked at a struggling company where deals fell through and supplies arrived late. Employees left for better jobs. Educated and capable, he did the work of three on a meager salary, with no bonuses. He knew the boss exploited him but, raised under his mother’s control, lacked the courage to quit. So, the bride’s parents started involving him in their small business. They’d ask him to advise on organizing a new warehouse for efficiency, to visit a farmer they wanted to partner with to check the produce, or to review the books. They always praised him—deservedly—and paid him. He saw he earned more with them and was respected.
One evening at their house, they mentioned expanding their vegetable business but said they couldn’t do it without him. They offered him a key role: overseeing all procurement, a large and critical task.
— You understand, — the bride’s father said, looking at him, — we need someone sharp who we trust like family. That’s you. Think about it, but not too long. The vegetable season’s starting. We could make a good profit—or lose everything. Decide. But you’d have to leave your company.
The son-in-law was flattered by their trust. He glanced at his wife. Used to consulting his mother, he knew she’d disapprove, but she wasn’t there. His wife beamed with pride, confident he’d succeed. He nodded gratefully and said:
— I’m in. I’ll do my best. I know how important this is.
The job demanded constant attention and often ran late, leaving little time to visit his mother daily. Eventually, he realized he didn’t want to. Compared to his mother’s home, being with his wife or at his in-laws’ felt different—like night and day. Without his mother, he felt confident, independent, responsible not just for himself. He worked hard, earned good money, and kept it from his mother, who would’ve demanded half. She visited a few times but rarely caught him.
His wife explained that procurement was busy, and only her husband could decide whether to buy from a particular farmer.
— He’s never bought subpar goods or overpaid. He’s amazing. My parents can’t manage without him, — she told Clara proudly, inviting her for tea.
— No time for tea, — Clara snapped, hiding her anger at her daughter-in-law, her family, and her son.
— Has he fallen completely under her spell? What about my plan? It’s nearly six months, time for a divorce.
— I’m going, — she said, refusing tea. — Tell him to stop by today or tomorrow. I’ve forgotten what he looks like.
The wife blushed, unsure what to say, but Clara wouldn’t have listened anyway.
When her husband came home, she fed him, sent him to shower, and only then asked:
— Why don’t you visit your mom?
His mood soured. He couldn’t admit he didn’t want to hear about her plan. He felt ashamed.
She added that Clara had stopped by, asking her to tell him she was waiting.
— Alright, — he said. — I’ll stop by soon.
But “soon” didn’t happen. The four of them—him, his wife, and her parents—went furniture shopping. He was quietly proud: his earnings covered an expensive sofa set, one of the priciest in the store.
Clara’s plan was nearing its climax, but her son kept delaying.
The bride’s mother hadn’t forgotten the six-month mark either, expecting the divorce plan to unfold. But her son-in-law showed no sign of wanting a divorce. For the first time, he felt like the head of the family and a valued worker. Even his appearance had changed.
But Clara wasn’t one to give up easily.
She visited their store but missed her son. She told the bride’s mother she was going to the hospital for tests—her blood pressure was erratic, and her heart was acting up.
— Oh, how inconvenient, — she lamented. — The kids are flying to the coast tomorrow. They got a great deal on tickets, and they’re exhausted after a year without a break. But don’t worry, go to the hospital. We’ll visit and get any medicine you need.
Clara left, seething. The bride’s mother did send the couple to the coast, telling them not to worry about Clara’s hospital stay. While they were gone, she and her husband would look after her.
After the trip, the son visited his mother with a basket of figs and a huge bunch of grapes, but she didn’t even glance at them.
From the doorway:
— What are you doing? It’s been almost six months. The guy’s ready to start the divorce process, and you’re doing nothing!
She got an answer she hadn’t expected:
— Let’s be clear, Mom. I don’t want to hear about your plans anymore. They’re not plans—they’re schemes. I love my wife. More than that, I love her family. They’re good people, not like you. I’m sure we’ll soon be a family of three. Do you want your grandchild to be half an orphan? If you want to scheme and deceive, join a dating site, post your photo—you’re still a catch—and find a rich guy with a summer house and a car. Deal? — And he left.
Clara stood frozen, realizing things wouldn’t go her way. Her son would never follow her lead again.
Whether out of spite or by chance, she found a suitor online. He wrote about his wealth—cars, even a yacht—but hadn’t met the right woman until her. She was hooked.
They met. He was a distinguished man, charming like in the movies. Flowers, dinners, talk of exotic trips. He lived in another city, here on business, staying at a hotel. She invited him over, already scheming, but…
She left him alone for just half an hour to ask a colleague to cover her shift. When she returned, the “distinguished” man was gone, along with her gold, savings, and the money she’d set aside for her son’s dishonest divorce.
Now, she’s quiet—quieter than a mouse.
Helen Stewart concluded her story:
— Her son and daughter-in-law are decent people, and the in-laws are great. They helped her, gave her money—her online suitor didn’t leave her a penny. I feel sorry for her; she was a good girl once. But I don’t, because she really didn’t love people.
— I don’t feel sorry either, — the three other women in the ward said in unison, as if they’d planned it.
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