“My parents aren’t going to lock horns with your mother and sister! They’re above these petty squabbles,” Catherine said to her husband, keeping her tone calm even as her pulse quickened.

She was setting the table—placing each crystal glass and porcelain plate with care on the ivory tablecloth. Today was David’s thirty-fifth birthday—a milestone—and for the first time in years, both families were gathering in their apartment.
The crystal glasses her mother had given as a wedding present glimmered under the chandelier, and the smell of roasted meat filled the room. Catherine hoped—perhaps naively—that this time would be peaceful.

David leaned against the doorway, loosening his tie, looking uneasy.
“Kate, maybe we shouldn’t have invited my side of the family?”

“David, it’s your birthday. Of course your mother and Alena should be here,” Catherine said, arranging the silverware. “We’re family. We ought to gather once in a while.”

He snorted softly but said nothing. In seven years of marriage, no such gathering had ended well. His mother, Laura Potter, could ruin any celebration with one remark, and Alena—her loyal echo—always made it worse.

The Beginning of the Dinner

Catherine’s parents arrived first.
Her father, Viktor Pamer, was a university history lecturer, and her mother, Elena Sambre, a city librarian. Both were gentle, courteous people who avoided confrontation.

“Kate, everything looks wonderful,” her mother said, embracing her daughter.

“Mama, let’s just hope there are no incidents tonight,” Catherine whispered back.

Viktor shook his son-in-law’s hand and handed him a gift: a leather box containing an elegant watch.
“Happy birthday, David. May time always work in your favor.”

“Thank you, Viktor Pamer,” David smiled warmly. He had always respected his father-in-law—a calm, decent man.

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang—long and imperious. No one else rang like that but Laura Potter.

She swept into the apartment without waiting.
“At last! My dear son, happy birthday!”

Behind her trailed Alena—a thirty-year-old copy of her mother, only younger. Both were decked out in bright dresses, gold jewelry, and overly styled hair.

“Good afternoon, Laura Potter,” said Elena politely.

“Oh, you’re here too,” Laura replied after a quick, appraising glance. “Well, it is a holiday after all.”

Catherine bit her lip. The first blow had landed.

The Poisoned Feast

At the table, Laura sat at the head—David’s place by right. He didn’t object. He never did.

“Well then, let’s drink to my son!” she proclaimed, raising her glass. “May his life become easier and happier!”

“That’s a strange toast,” Catherine said mildly. “Is David struggling these days?”

Her mother-in-law’s eyes flashed with irritation.
“Well, when a man has to carry two families on his back, it’s never easy.”

“Two families?” Viktor repeated.

“Of course,” Alena chimed in. “David supports both us and you. Must be exhausting.”

Catherine felt her face grow hot. Her parents exchanged glances; Elena quietly set down her fork.

“Excuse me,” Viktor said calmly, “but we’ve never asked David for money.”

“Oh, come now,” Laura waved her hand. “Everyone knows how things are. Kate was on maternity leave for two years—who fed them? My David! You two come as guests, bring token gifts, and eat and drink on his money.”

“Mama!” David tried to intervene, but his voice was weak.

“What, ‘Mama’? I’m just speaking the truth! At least Alena and I have our pensions—we support ourselves. But those… intellectuals… they’ve always lived off others!”

Viktor turned pale. A man who had worked his whole life honestly, never depending on anyone, was being insulted at his own daughter’s table.

“Laura Potter—” he began, but his wife touched his shoulder.

“Don’t,” Elena said softly. “Let’s go.”

They both rose. Viktor looked at his son-in-law.
“Happy birthday, David. All the best.”

“Viktor Pamer, wait—” David started, but they were already heading to the door.

“See? They’re offended!” Alena cried, triumphant. “The truth hurts!”

“Let them go,” Laura said, refilling her glass. “No need to play aristocrats here. David, focus on your real family—us.”

Catherine saw her parents to the door. Her mother’s eyes were wet; her father’s jaw was tight.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Catherine whispered. “I didn’t think they’d—”

“It’s not your fault,” Elena said, embracing her. “But, Kate… think about whether you should keep enduring this.”

Cracks in the Celebration

When Catherine returned, laughter was echoing through the room—loud, false laughter.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked coldly.

“What’s wrong?” Laura feigned innocence. “I only spoke the truth. If they can’t handle it, that’s their problem.”

“You insulted people who’ve never wronged you.”

“Kate, don’t dramatize,” David interjected. “Mama was just sharing her opinion.”

“Her opinion?” Catherine’s voice trembled. “Calling my father—a respected professor—a freeloader? That’s an opinion?”

“Well… they’re not exactly well-off,” David muttered. “And Mama’s right that I carry a lot of the load.”

“OUR family, David! Not THEM—US!”

“Enough shouting!” barked Laura. “It’s my son’s birthday, not your parents’!”

“And they left because you humiliated them,” Catherine shot back.

“Oh, how sensitive,” Alena snorted. “Typical softies.”

That night was a nightmare. Until midnight, Laura and Alena went on listing Catherine’s parents’ supposed faults, and David just sat there, silent.

Continue in comment

“My parents aren’t going to lock horns with your mother and sister! They’re above these petty squabbles,” Catherine said to her husband, keeping her tone calm even as her pulse quickened.

She was setting the table—placing each crystal glass and porcelain plate with care on the ivory tablecloth. Today was David’s thirty-fifth birthday—a milestone—and for the first time in years, both families were gathering in their apartment.

The crystal glasses her mother had given as a wedding present glimmered under the chandelier, and the smell of roasted meat filled the room. Catherine hoped—perhaps naively—that this time would be peaceful.

David leaned against the doorway, loosening his tie, looking uneasy.
“Kate, maybe we shouldn’t have invited my side of the family?”

“David, it’s your birthday. Of course your mother and Alena should be here,” Catherine said, arranging the silverware. “We’re family. We ought to gather once in a while.”

He snorted softly but said nothing. In seven years of marriage, no such gathering had ended well. His mother, Laura Potter, could ruin any celebration with one remark, and Alena—her loyal echo—always made it worse.

The Beginning of the Dinner

Catherine’s parents arrived first.
Her father, Viktor Pamer, was a university history lecturer, and her mother, Elena Sambre, a city librarian. Both were gentle, courteous people who avoided confrontation.

“Kate, everything looks wonderful,” her mother said, embracing her daughter.

“Mama, let’s just hope there are no incidents tonight,” Catherine whispered back.

Viktor shook his son-in-law’s hand and handed him a gift: a leather box containing an elegant watch.
“Happy birthday, David. May time always work in your favor.”

“Thank you, Viktor Pamer,” David smiled warmly. He had always respected his father-in-law—a calm, decent man.

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang—long and imperious. No one else rang like that but Laura Potter.

She swept into the apartment without waiting.
“At last! My dear son, happy birthday!”

Behind her trailed Alena—a thirty-year-old copy of her mother, only younger. Both were decked out in bright dresses, gold jewelry, and overly styled hair.

“Good afternoon, Laura Potter,” said Elena politely.

“Oh, you’re here too,” Laura replied after a quick, appraising glance. “Well, it is a holiday after all.”

Catherine bit her lip. The first blow had landed.

The Poisoned Feast

At the table, Laura sat at the head—David’s place by right. He didn’t object. He never did.

“Well then, let’s drink to my son!” she proclaimed, raising her glass. “May his life become easier and happier!”

“That’s a strange toast,” Catherine said mildly. “Is David struggling these days?”

Her mother-in-law’s eyes flashed with irritation.
“Well, when a man has to carry two families on his back, it’s never easy.”

“Two families?” Viktor repeated.

“Of course,” Alena chimed in. “David supports both us and you. Must be exhausting.”

Catherine felt her face grow hot. Her parents exchanged glances; Elena quietly set down her fork.

“Excuse me,” Viktor said calmly, “but we’ve never asked David for money.”

“Oh, come now,” Laura waved her hand. “Everyone knows how things are. Kate was on maternity leave for two years—who fed them? My David! You two come as guests, bring token gifts, and eat and drink on his money.”

“Mama!” David tried to intervene, but his voice was weak.

“What, ‘Mama’? I’m just speaking the truth! At least Alena and I have our pensions—we support ourselves. But those… intellectuals… they’ve always lived off others!”

Viktor turned pale. A man who had worked his whole life honestly, never depending on anyone, was being insulted at his own daughter’s table.

“Laura Potter—” he began, but his wife touched his shoulder.

“Don’t, ,” Elena said softly. “Let’s go.”

They both rose. Viktor looked at his son-in-law.
“Happy birthday, David. All the best.”

“Viktor Pamer, wait—” David started, but they were already heading to the door.

“See? They’re offended!” Alena cried, triumphant. “The truth hurts!”

“Let them go,” Laura said, refilling her glass. “No need to play aristocrats here. David, focus on your real family—us.”

Catherine saw her parents to the door. Her mother’s eyes were wet; her father’s jaw was tight.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Catherine whispered. “I didn’t think they’d—”

“It’s not your fault,” Elena said, embracing her. “But, Kate… think about whether you should keep enduring this.”

Cracks in the Celebration

When Catherine returned, laughter was echoing through the room—loud, false laughter.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked coldly.

“What’s wrong?” Laura feigned innocence. “I only spoke the truth. If they can’t handle it, that’s their problem.”

“You insulted people who’ve never wronged you.”

“Kate, don’t dramatize,” David interjected. “Mama was just sharing her opinion.”

“Her opinion?” Catherine’s voice trembled. “Calling my father—a respected professor—a freeloader? That’s an opinion?”

“Well… they’re not exactly well-off,” David muttered. “And Mama’s right that I carry a lot of the load.”

“OUR family, David! Not THEM—US!”

“Enough shouting!” barked Laura. “It’s my son’s birthday, not your parents’!”

“And they left because you humiliated them,” Catherine shot back.

“Oh, how sensitive,” Alena snorted. “Typical softies.”

That night was a nightmare. Until midnight, Laura and Alena went on listing Catherine’s parents’ supposed faults, and David just sat there, silent.

The Breaking Point

When the guests finally left, Catherine cleaned the table without a word. David came behind her and tried to embrace her.
“Kate, don’t be upset. Mama didn’t mean it.”

Catherine stepped away.
“She didn’t mean calling my father a parasite?”

“She’s blunt, that’s all.”

“No—she’s cruel. And you’re a coward, David. You never defend anyone.”

“I just want peace.”

“Peace built on silence while your mother insults my parents? No. That’s not peace—that’s surrender.”

Awakening

The next morning, Catherine called her mother.
“Mama, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Don’t apologize, dear,” Elena said gently. “We’re just worried for you.”

“I’m not going to tolerate it anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure yet. But no more humiliation.”

“We’ll support whatever you decide.”

After hanging up, Catherine walked to the kitchen. David sat with a cup of cold coffee, dark circles under his eyes.

“Kate, can we talk calmly?”

“Go ahead.”

“I know Mama went too far. But you did too.”

“How?”

“You called her and Alena names.”

“I called them what they are,” Catherine said flatly. “For seven years I’ve held my tongue. But last night she went too far.”

“She just…”

“Stop.” Catherine raised a hand. “Don’t justify her. Answer me one question: will you defend me and my parents from her attacks?”

David stared into his cup, silent.

“I see,” Catherine said, standing. “Then maybe we really need to reconsider this marriage.”

The Final Confrontation

A week later, Laura appeared uninvited.
“What’s this nonsense? Why isn’t the daughter-in-law answering her phone?”

“Mama, now’s not the time,” David tried weakly.

“What do you mean, not the time? Katka, come out here!”

Catherine emerged, calm but firm.
“Laura Potter, please leave my apartment.”

“What? This is my son’s apartment!”

“This is mine and David’s home. And I won’t welcome someone who insulted my parents.”

“You expect me to apologize? Never!”

“Then please go.”

“David!” she turned on her son. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?”

He said nothing.

“I see,” Catherine nodded. “When you decide who your family is—me or your mother—let me know.”

The Point of No Return

That night David said quietly,
“Kate, you’re putting me in an impossible position.”

“No, your mother put you there. And you made it worse by saying nothing.”

“She’s my mother!”

“And I’m your wife. My parents are your family too. But you chose her side.”

“I didn’t choose anyone!”

“Exactly. You chose silence. And silence is a choice, David.”

From that night, they slept in separate rooms. Catherine knew: her marriage was crumbling.

The next morning, her father called.
“Kate, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“We just want to say we’re proud of you. You’re right not to let anyone trample on your dignity.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Catherine whispered. “That means the world to me.”

The Ultimatum

That evening, Catherine spoke firmly.
“David, either you apologize to my parents and demand the same from your mother—or we’re getting a divorce.”

“Kate…”

“This isn’t negotiable. Choose.”

He lowered his head. She was no longer the soft-spoken wife who smoothed things over. Her eyes were calm, unyielding.

“Are you really ready to destroy our family over one argument?” he tried to reason.

“Not one. Seven years of humiliation.”

He rubbed his temple, sighing. “But she’s my mother…”

“And I’m your wife. Who do you intend to stand by?”

Catherine looked at him squarely. “I’ll wait until the end of the week. If nothing changes, I’ll file for divorce.”

The Turning Point

Two days later, David called his mother.
She shouted, refused, hung up.
Then he sent a message:

‘Mama, until you apologize to Kate and her parents, our door is closed to you.’

That evening, when Catherine came home, he stood in the hallway, phone still in his hand.
“I’ve done it,” he said quietly. “She yelled, but I turned off the phone.”

Catherine looked at him for a long time. For the first time in years, hope flickered in her eyes.
“We’ll see, David. I just hope you keep your word.”

Slow Spring

Six months passed. Change came slowly, like winter melting into spring. Laura called, showed up at their door—but it stayed shut. David stood firm. He learned to say no, to draw lines. For the first time, he looked like his own man.

Catherine saw the change too: he was calmer, stronger, independent. Her parents came often—helping with their grandson, bringing warmth—but never interfering. Laughter returned to the table. The air felt lighter.

One evening, watching David play on the carpet with their son, Catherine smiled. The wounds hadn’t disappeared, but they no longer defined her life.

She remembered her mother’s words:

“Take care of yourself.”

And she realized—that was when her real life had begun.
The moment she finally said enough.