A Direct Confrontation
Alla Sergeyevna snapped, “Can’t you hear me, Zhenya? You’ve let her dominate you! She decides everything! This is no longer your home; it belongs to her!”
Daria put down the knife and finally turned to face her mother-in-law. No anger, no fear—just exhaustion beyond measure. “I don’t disrespect anyone, Alla Sergeyevna. I am simply preparing breakfast for my husband. If you’re unhappy with your home, the door is there.”
Alla Sergeyevna’s mouth opened in shock, yet in her mind, she felt victorious. She turned on her heel, face full of self-righteous pride, walking down the hall, adjusting her gloves and coat with every movement like a performance: I have been insulted, I am the victim.
The Confrontation Outside the Factory
A few hours later, Evgeny left the factory, the smell of asphalt and metal dust clinging to his clothes, and she was there—his mother, a cold, dark silhouette. No smile, no sign of reconciliation, only a clear objective.
“Zhenya, we need to talk,” she said, her voice both familiar and alien. Every sound around them seemed to fade in the gravity of her tone. She grabbed his sleeve as if rooting herself into him, her cold hand almost trying to transfer her anger into his body.
READ MORE ON THE NEXT PAGE…
