In a post-op ward lay four women, all of whom—as one of them put it—happened to be "young retirees."
They had only recently left their jobs, stepping aside to make room for a younger generation. In an all-female ward, acquaintances are made quickly, and before long, everyone knew the intimate details of their neighbors' lives: who was left in the family, what signature dishes they cooked—in short, every domestic topic imaginable. They also scrutinized those who came to visit. A single visit was usually enough to lay a family's dynamics bare, but this ward was lucky. Not a bad word could be said about any of the relatives who came to check on the patients. Still, what's a conversation without a little gossip? And so, the topic of the "mother-in-law from hell" surfaced.
Gail, the woman who told the story about her neighbor, had known the woman in question since they played in the sandbox together. Their parents, now long gone, had worked at the same local factory and received apartments in the company-owned building at the same time. It was no surprise that the two girls, being the same age, became fast friends.
Usually, Gail—or "Gally" back then—would head down from her third-floor apartment and stop by for Vera, who lived on the first floor, and the two would head out to the yard to play. They attended the same school, though they were in different classes. Their families lived similarly in terms of wealth—which is to say, like everyone else. In that factory-owned building, the girls were often at each other's houses; they weren't allowed to play outside when it was cold or windy, as both were prone to catching colds. In short, the friendship was solid until the ninth grade.
During a school break, Gail immediately noticed her friend had returned from a month-long trip to the city, where she had been staying with a relative. Vera had started speaking with a sophisticated urban accent, drawing out her vowels. She made fun of Gail's new dress, claiming that "nobody wears that in the city anymore." Then she stopped hanging out with her. Gail would go by to pick her up, but no one would open the door. Her friend would watch through the open window, wait for Gail to leave the porch, and then shout down that she was too busy with "important things." Eventually, Gail stopped stopping by. Now they only met at school, shared a brief nod, and that was it.
A year after graduation, Gail married a young man who worked in her same department at the factory. He had been living in a dormitory and moved in with her family after the wedding. Vera didn't come to the wedding, even though Gail had invited her. She had promised to show up, but never did. Meeting by chance at the front door later, Vera asked:
"Couldn't you find anyone better than that?"
That was the final nail in the coffin of their friendship. Gail loved her husband, and he loved her back. When their son was born, there was plenty of love for him too, though that year was a difficult one. There was an explosion at the factory's chemical unit; many were killed or injured. Among the dead were Gail's father and both of Vera's parents. Vera was now an orphan. Gail's mother turned gray with grief and began to fall ill frequently. She couldn't always manage a walk with her grandson anymore. Gail saw how hard it was for her mother to move, yet she always found the strength to visit her husband's grave at the cemetery.
Eighteen months later, Gail's mother passed away, and she became an orphan as well. She was grateful to have her husband by her side and her son growing up fast.
Soon, Vera got married. Her fiancé was handsome and fashionable, always sporting a tie and a fedora. He was the only one of his kind in the neighborhood. Gail didn't know how they lived, even though the windows of their apartment were always open; no scandals ever drifted out. But one evening, a cry and a moan echoed from the open window. Her old friend had gone into labor, and her husband wasn't home. Gail was the one who called the ambulance, and she was the one who rode with her to the maternity ward.
When Gail returned, Vera's apartment was dark. She wrote a note explaining which hospital her friend had been taken to, but the next morning, the note was still tucked in the door. Later, Gail and all the neighbors found out that the husband had left. Why he left and where he went, Gail never knew.
Vera grew bitter toward the whole world. She lived alone—well, not alone, but with her son. She worked hard. she dressed her boy in the finest clothes and bought him expensive toys. She likely fed him better than Gail fed her own son. Through the open windows, you could hear them talking. The mother never forgot to tell the boy what a "good man" he was. She praised him for not sharing his toys with other children at daycare or on the street. He was obedient and always neat. He only went for walks with his mother. Gail couldn't recall other children ever visiting their home. It was always just him and his mother. She even chose his university for him, and he didn't object; he was used to listening to her.
Two houses down lived another family: a father, a mother, and a daughter. They were also former factory workers, but they were among the first to strike out on their own. They opened two small grocery stores, and people were happy to buy produce and vegetables from them. There was never anything expired; the prices were fair, and they'd even let people buy on credit. This family was now better off than most. They weren't exactly high society, but they bought their daughter her own one-bedroom apartment. The girl dressed fashionably, and the parents looked quite modern themselves. But they had their own problem: their only daughter had terrible luck with men. She was pretty, hardworking, and had a supportive family, but the young men who started relationships with her would eat her food, drink her wine, accept her gifts, and then vanish. They figured her out quickly—she was so kind and trusting that she'd never make a scene. They'd take whatever they liked—clothes, electronics—and leave without a word.
If Gail hadn't known this family personally, if she hadn't seen the girl grow up, she might not have believed such a good person could have such chronic bad luck. But sadly, it was true. Even now, the girl was alone and often cried quietly so as not to upset her parents.
Living almost next door to her was a young, handsome man. Well-educated. He wasn't the owner of his own firm, but he earned a decent living. He lived with his mother—the very same Vera, Gail's former friend. He still cleared every step he took with her. Over the years, his mother's authority had only grown. Lately, her lectures had turned to the topic of family—specifically, a bride.
One day, while returning home from work, the young man stepped off the bus and saw a young woman helping an elderly lady pick up apples that had spilled from a torn bag. A few apples landed right at his feet. He joined in, and they gathered the woman's groceries. She thanked them, and as it turned out, the two young people were headed in the same direction. The girl only cast a fleeting glance at him.
"He seems nice, and he helped with the apples," she thought. "But what does it matter? I never have any luck with guys."
He, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off her; he liked her instantly. For the first time in his life, without consulting his mother, he took the initiative and offered to walk her home. When they realized they lived almost next door, they were surprised they'd never crossed paths before. From then on, they started dating. He never showed up for a date without flowers. He took her to the theater and to concerts. He gave her small but thoughtful gifts. In short, he was nothing like the men she'd dated before. Moreover, he was refined and tactful. When she introduced him to her parents, they were thrilled. "Now this is a truly worthy man," her father and mother whispered, already dreaming of their daughter marrying him. The young man's mother liked the girl too—especially when Vera found out the parents owned two stores, the girl worked at a bank, and she already owned her own apartment.
Vera, having turned against men forever after her husband ran out, had long ago staked everything on her son. He was meant to take everything life had to offer—or rather, he and she would take it together. And so, she gave her blessing for the wedding. The parents met and set a date. The bride's parents immediately offered to cover all the expenses, noting there were two of them while the groom's mother was on her own. Vera liked that very much.
The groom's mother—Gail's old friend—was already hatching a plan. It was foul and dishonest, but it was the only outcome that suited her. This marriage was to be a launching pad for her son and herself—a way to squeeze the most out of the in-laws before a divorce, which she didn't doubt for a second. Nor did she doubt the power she held over her son. At the wedding, she played the part of the joyful mother, hugging the bride and the in-laws. She kept repeating how perfect the couple was and how she wished them nothing but happiness.
Vera became fully convinced she would come out on top when the bride's parents presented the couple with a lavish gift: they had bought them a three-bedroom apartment downtown and apologized that they couldn't move in immediately. A total renovation was underway, and once finished, it would be ready for its new owners.
Some say envy is the cancer of the soul. That was Vera's diagnosis. But she decided for herself how to cure it: take everything for herself and her son. If it couldn't be done legally, she'd find a way to get that three-bedroom apartment. It wouldn't just be a nice place for them; it would be their future security. For now, Vera had to play the role of the loving mother-in-law, visiting the in-laws' house because the newlyweds were staying there until the renovations were done.
But much more often—nearly every day—the son would visit his mother. He still listened to her, agreeing with her just as he had as a child, no matter what she said. It never even crossed her mind that by mocking the daughter-in-law, she was deeply wounding her beloved son; he didn't just love his mother, he loved his wife deeply and respected her parents.
For a while, burning with impatience, the mother-in-law didn't dare speak openly about what she had planned. She "dripped" the poison in small doses. The recurring theme was always his intelligence, his looks, and his upbringing, which she claimed were incomparable to his wife's flaws. Not to mention that his father-in-law and mother-in-law were "just petty shopkeepers." Not businessmen, not tycoons, not politicians—just shopkeepers. These hints were painful for the son, so she decided to bring out the heavy artillery.
"I see that living in the house of those shopkeepers, under the thumb of that wife of yours—whom I wouldn't call a beauty even under threat of death—you're forgetting who I am to you! Don't you know you can have ten wives, but only one mother? Open your eyes! Who are you in that house? Just a third wheel!"
The son would leave his mother's place feeling dejected and confused. He would return home, where they were waiting for him. They wouldn't eat dinner without him. They'd ask how his day was and share how their own work had gone. Slowly, he began to drift away from his mother's "guidance," which he understood less and less, though he still didn't dare talk back.
The day finally came when they could move into the renovated apartment. The mother-in-law's counterpart—the bride's mother—decided she should tell the groom's mother the news, since they lived nearby. Not wanting to go empty-handed, she grabbed a bar of chocolate and hurried over. She wanted to be back in time for dinner. As she approached the building and passed the groom's mother's open window, she heard her son-in-law's voice.
"But Mom, I don't love her that way."
And his mother replied:
"So what? I know what love is. You'll move in, stay for six months, and then file for divorce and a division of property. I've already found someone who will make sure you get everything. At the very least, half of it will be ours," she said confidently.
The mother-in-law nearly sat down right there on the pavement. She hadn't expected this, but she was hearing it with her own ears. It got worse.
"After the divorce and the split, we'll sell what we get and finish the cottage. I think there'll be enough for a car, too. Then you'll finally be able to drive me to the market," the woman continued. "Do you understand, son? Now it's your turn to provide for me! You think I haven't earned it? Who pampered you all these years? Your deadbeat father? I gave you life; I gave up mine for you! I'm asking you again, do you understand? Will you serve your mother?"
"I understand, Mom, I understand," the son replied with a heavy sigh. "Can I go now?"
"Go on, go. Just don't forget we're sticking to the plan. I've already prepared a down payment for the right person. In six months, we can make our move," the mother concluded.
The mother-in-law barely managed to duck into a neighboring doorway, otherwise she would have bumped into her son-in-law. From the safety of the dark hallway, she watched him walk out with his head hanging low, moving slowly. She felt sorry for him. He was a good man, just spineless—a mama's boy. She had suspected for a while that his mother was pulling the strings, but she never imagined this.
When she visited their house, she was like a songbird. She praised everything, gushed over her daughter-in-law. She told the couple how lucky she was to have such in-laws, yet this was what she was planning. They had worked hard their whole lives—first at the factory in shifts, then in their two stores. Even recently, they were still loading and unloading crates themselves, working the counters, and cleaning. And their daughter had helped.
Her daughter...
That's who she felt the most for. She loved her husband, and after so much bad luck, she'd finally found someone kind and gentle who helped around the house. What would happen to her when that woman got her way? She had just found a little joy in life, and now, another betrayal. No, something had to be done. She wouldn't tell her daughter—not yet. She wouldn't tell her what she'd heard, but she had to tell her husband. He'd be furious, of course, but she had to convince him not to let on that they knew the "dear" in-law's plan.
The mother-in-law still found the strength to actually go in and invite Vera to the new apartment the next day. She wanted to see how she'd act.
Like a seasoned actress, the other woman greeted her with open arms, though she couldn't help asking if they'd run into her son. He'd stopped by for a minute to see his mother, she said. The mother-in-law decided to play the part, too.
"No, I missed him. I was in a rush, taking the shortcut behind the building, just to invite you for tomorrow. The kids are moving into the new place, and my husband and I aren't even that happy about it. It'll be lonely without them."
The groom's mother kept up the polite conversation, saying they weren't moving far. She said young people want their own space and promised that if she could make it, she'd definitely be there for the move. She didn't bat an eye—no hint that ten minutes ago, she was pressuring her son.
Right then, the mother-in-law made up her mind: she would save her daughter. She would save the family.
Walking home, she decided what needed to be done. She fed everyone dinner and then told her husband they needed to go see a neighbor about some cheap vegetables for sale. Instead, she led him to the park. They sat on a bench, and she told him how she planned to save their daughter's marriage—with his help, of course.
The son-in-law was working at a struggling company. Contracts fell through, deliveries were late. People were leaving for more reliable jobs. He was smart and educated, but he was doing the work of three people for a base salary. He hadn't seen a bonus in ages. He knew his boss was using him, but having grown up under his mother's thumb, he didn't dare quit. So, the mother-in-law and father-in-law started involving him in their small business. They'd ask him for advice on setting up a new warehouse to save space, or ask him to act as an agent and visit a farmer they wanted to work with to check the produce, or have him audit the books. They always praised him—which was only fair—and they paid him well. He'd tally up the earnings and realize he was making more here, and more importantly, he was respected.
One evening at dinner, the in-laws started a conversation about expanding their produce business. They said they couldn't do it without him and offered him the most responsible role: taking full control of all purchasing. The volume was already large.
"You understand," the father-in-law said, looking at him. "We need someone who knows what they're doing and someone we can trust like ourselves. That can only be you. Think about it, but not for too long. The vegetable season is starting; we could either make a great profit or lose everything. In short, it's up to you. But you'd have to leave your company."
The son-in-law was touched by the trust. He looked at his wife. The habit of consulting his mother kicked in, but his mother wasn't there. And he suspected her advice wouldn't be helpful. His wife was looking at him with adoration. She was genuinely happy about the offer and didn't doubt for a second that he could do it. He gave her a grateful nod and said:
"I agree. I promise I'll do my best. I know how important this is."
The work truly required constant attention and often ended late. Because of that, he didn't always have time to stop by his mother's. Eventually, he realized he didn't really want to. If he compared how he felt at his mother's place to how he felt at home with his wife or visiting his in-laws—well, it was night and day. Without his mother, he felt confident and independent. He felt like he was responsible for more than just himself. He was actually working and earning his keep. His mother didn't even know how much he was making now; if she did, she would have tried to take half of it long ago. She came to their house a few times, but she never found him there.
The daughter-in-law would explain that it was peak season, lots of buying to do, and only her husband could decide whether to buy from a particular farmer.
"He's never once bought anything sub-par or at a marked-up price. He's so good at this; my parents would be lost without him," she told her mother-in-law with pride, offering her tea.
"I don't have time for tea," the woman would reply, masking her fury—at the daughter-in-law, at her family, and at her son.
"Is he completely under her thumb now? What about the plan? It's almost been six months; they should be getting a divorce."
"I'm leaving," she'd say, refusing the tea. "Tell him he absolutely has to stop by today or tomorrow. I've forgotten what he looks like."
The daughter-in-law would blush, not knowing what to say, but the mother-in-law wouldn't have listened anyway.
When the husband came home, his wife fed him, sent him to the shower, and only then asked:
"Why don't you visit your mother?"
His mood immediately soured. But he couldn't bring himself to admit he didn't want to go, that he wasn't going to listen to her plan. He was too ashamed.
His wife added that his mother had stopped by today, asking for him.
"Fine," he said. "I'll stop by in a few days."
But a few days later, it didn't happen. All four of them—him, his wife, and the in-laws—went to buy new furniture. He was proud, though he tried not to show it. The money he had earned was enough to pay for a sectional sofa—one of the most expensive ones in the showroom.
The mother's plan was supposed to be nearing its climax, but her son just wouldn't show up.
The mother-in-law—the one who'd overheard the plan—was also keeping track of those six months, waiting for the divorce move. But looking at her son-in-law, she saw he had no intention of leaving. For the first time, he felt like the head of a family and a valued professional. He had even changed physically.
But Vera wasn't going to give up her position that easily.
Sure enough, Vera stopped by the store, but she didn't find her son. She told the in-laws that she was going into the hospital the next day for tests; her blood pressure was high and her heart was acting up.
"Oh, what a shame!" the other woman cried, almost wailing. "And the kids are flying to the coast tomorrow. They found a great deal on a vacation; they're so tired after a year without a break. But don't you worry about going into the hospital. My husband and I will visit you. If you need any medicine, we'll buy it all."
Vera left, hissing with rage. The mother-in-law really had sent the young couple on a trip, telling the son-in-law not to worry about his mother; they'd take care of her while she was in for her "tests."
When the son returned from the coast, he went to his mother's with a basket of fresh figs and a huge cluster of grapes, but she didn't even look at them.
Right from the doorway, she snapped:
"What do you think you're doing? It'll be six months next week. The person I hired is ready to start the divorce. And you're just sitting there!"
He gave her an answer she hadn't expected:
"Let's get one thing straight, Mom. I don't want to hear another word about your plans. Those aren't plans—they're schemes, plain and simple. I love my wife. I'll go even further: I love her family. They are good people, unlike you. I'm pretty sure there's going to be three of us soon. Do you really want to make your own grandchild grow up in a broken home? Look, if you want to weave plots and fool people, go on a dating site. Post your picture—you've still got it—and find yourself a rich guy with a cottage and a car. Do we have a deal?" And with that, he left.
She was frozen to the spot. Then she realized it wasn't going to happen. Her son wasn't going to follow her lead—never again.
Whether out of spite or just by chance, she did find herself a suitor online.
He wrote that he had this and he had that. Not just a car, but a yacht, too. He said he'd never met a woman who "caught" him until he met her.
And they met. He was a respectable man, no doubt about it. He courted her like something out of a movie—flowers, cafes, talk of traveling abroad. He lived in another city and was only in town on business, staying at a hotel. She invited him to her place, having already prepared a "plan" of her own, but...
She left him alone for only half an hour. She ran over to a coworker's to ask her to cover her shift the next day, and when she returned...
In short: no respectable fiancé, no jewelry, and no savings—including the money she'd set aside for her son's "dishonest" divorce.
Now she's gone quiet—quieter than a mouse.
Gail finished her story:
"Her son and daughter-in-law are decent people, and the in-laws are great. They helped her out, of course; gave her some money. That internet fiancé didn't leave her a cent. I feel sorry for her—she was a good girl once—but then again, I don't. She just really didn't like people."
"I don't feel sorry for her either," the three other women in the ward said in unison.
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