Connect with us

З життя

Буря в семье: Захватывающая драма

Published

on

Гроза в доме: Драма Светланы

Светлана проводила мужа на работу и, мечтая о минуте покоя, вернулась в спальню их уютной квартиры в Нижнем Новгороде. Но не успела она прилечь, как в дверь раздался резкий звонок.
— Открывай, быстрее! — донесся сердитый голос свекрови.
Светлана, встревоженная, открыла. На пороге стояла Людмила Петровна, её взгляд сверкал решимостью.
— Людмила Петровна, что-то случилось? — осторожно спросила Светлана, чувствуя, как сердце сжимается от дурного предчувствия.
— Спишь, что ли? Собирайся, будем мне комнату готовить! Я к вам переезжаю! — заявила свекровь, бросая вызов.
— Как переезжаете? Зачем? — Светлана замерла, не в силах осмыслить услышанное.

В семье Светланы и Дмитрия царило радостное ожидание — Светлана была на пятом месяце беременности. Но счастье омрачала свекровь. С тех пор как Людмила Петровна узнала о будущем внуке, она буквально задушила Светлану своей «заботой», от которой хотелось бежать.

Людмила Петровна всегда была внимательна к сыну, но её забота о невестке граничила с навязчивостью. Её манера общения была тяжелой, как гиря: каждое слово несло в себе смесь похвалы и яда.
— Смотрю на тебя и волнуюсь, — заявила она однажды, в очередной раз явившись без предупреждения.
— Почему? — удивилась Светлана, оглядывая себя.
— Да ты в зеркало смотрелась? — свекровь прищурилась. — Худая, как щепка! Руки — спички, таз узкий. Как рожать будешь? Только глаза у тебя красивые, ими, видно, Дима мой и купился. А больше в тебе ничего нет.

Светлана опешила. Комплимент? Оскорбление? Она не знала, как реагировать.
— Ты, поди, в детстве часто болела, — продолжала Людмила Петровна. — Куда родители твои смотрели?
— Не болела я! — вспыхнула Светлана. — Мои родители каждое лето возили меня на море!
— Вот и я говорю — возили, потому что слабенькая была. Просто забыла! — отрезала свекровь.

Такой была её «фирменная» забота: похвалить не могла, не уколов. Исключение составлял сын Дмитрий и дочь Марина, жившая в другом городе. Их она обожала без оговорок.

К седьмому месяцу Светлана боялась не родов, а очередного визита свекрови. Она даже хотела отменить свой день рождения, лишь бы не видеть Людмилу Петровну. Но Дмитрий настоял:
— Хочу тебя порадовать, Света. Семейный праздник — это же здорово!

Дмитрий, привыкший к материнским манерам, не замечал, как тяжело Светлане выносить её колкости.
— Света, давай день рождения дома отметим? — предложил он за неделю до праздника. — В ресторане толпа, а тебе в положении рисковать нельзя.
— Почему дома? — без энтузиазма спросила Светлана.
— Скоро рожать, зачем тебе болячки цеплять? — ответил он.
— Ладно, — вздохнула она. — Но никаких застолий, я не в силах готовить.
— Мама придёт пораньше, поможет! — обрадовался Дмитрий.

Светлана застыла, её глаза потемнели.
— Это Людмила Петровна предложила дома праздновать?
— Да при чём тут мама? Я сам решил! — начал оправдываться муж.
— Ну конечно! Без её советов никуда! — вспыхнула Светлана.
— Света, мама нам добра желает!
— Молчи! Празднуем дома, но помогать мне будет моя мама!
— Твоим же из области час ехать, а мама в двух шагах, — возразил Дмитрий.
— Мои приедут накануне, с ночёвкой! — отрезала Светлана.
— Что за недовольство?
— Ещё слово, и я попрошу родителей привезти кошку! — рявкнула она.
— Ты же знаешь, я кошек не выношу, — напомнил Дмитрий.
— Вот именно! — Светлана ушла в спальню, хлопнув дверью.

Накануне праздника родители Светланы, Ольга Васильевна и Игорь Сергеевич, приехали с подарками. Они привезли овощи с дачи и вещи для будущего малыша. Ольга Васильевна знала, что дочь не суеверна, и спокойно покупала детское заранее. Светлана с Дмитрием уже приобрели кроватку и коляску, но скрывали это от свекрови.
— Мам, только не говори при Людмиле Петровне про детские вещи, — попросила Светлана.
— Так и лезет со своими приметами? — уточнила Ольга Васильевна.
— Ох, дышать не даёт, — пожаловалась дочь. — С тех пор как я в декрет ушла, от каждого звонка вздрагиваю.
— А с Димой как?
— С ним нормально. Он на работе пропадает. А вот свекровь…
— Это не дело, — нахмурилась мать. — Завтра я с ней поговорю.
— Мам, не надо!
— Мне 30 лет матерью быть, я тебя никому в обиду не дам! — отрезала Ольга Васильевна.

Утром в день рождения Светланы родители уже хлопотали на кухне.
— Доченька, с днём рождения! — Игорь Сергеевич первым обнял дочь.
— Красавица наша, будь счастлива! — присоединилась Ольга Васильевна.

Светлана похвасталась подарком мужа — Дмитрий подарил ей серёжки и билеты на концерт, о котором она мечтала.
— Повезло тебе с мужем, дочка! — улыбнулся тесть. — Я бы не запомнил, что Оле какая-то группа нравится.
— Мам, сейчас умоюсь и помогу, — сказала Светлана.
— А я стол помогу накрыть, — засуетился Дмитрий.

Веселье прервал звонок в домофон — пришла Людмила Петровна.
— О, сваты! Что это вы явились? Полгода не виделись, не больно-то вы беременную дочку навещаете. Зачем за сто километров мотаться? — съязвила она.

Ольга Васильевна не смолчала:
— А мы, Людмила Петровна, молодым не мешаем, не то что некоторые, без приглашения шастают. Зато деньги им шлём регулярно.

Свекровь скривилась, но промолчала — сваха попала в больное место. Праздник прошёл натянуто, Светлана и Дмитрий старались не допустить ссоры.

Наутро родители Светланы уехали. ДмитриНина Фёдоровна больше не звонила, и в доме наконец воцарилось долгожданное спокойствие.

Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Ваша e-mail адреса не оприлюднюватиметься. Обов’язкові поля позначені *

4 × один =

Також цікаво:

З життя53 хвилини ago

How to Set Your Husband Straight: A Heartfelt Story of Recovery, Five Feline Friends, and Finding Strength After Illness

Reining In My Husband. A Diary Entry Thank you for your kindness, for every like, comment, and thoughtful response to...

З життя2 години ago

A House Full of Uninvited Guests: Or, How My Husband’s Home Became a Never-Ending Refuge for Distant “Relatives,” Strangers, and the Occasional Professor, Complete With Volleyball Tournaments in December and Auntie Marsha’s Famous Pancakes

A House Overrun with Uninvited Guests – Cant these dear souls go and live somewhere else? asked Alice, raising her...

З життя3 години ago

How My Future Mother-in-Law Ruined Our Holiday: The Story of an English Family Vacation Gone Awkward, Complete with Last-Minute Substitutions, Reluctant Travel Partners, and Lessons Learned Before Saying ‘I Do’

Its just Being alone with my daughter on holiday, its frightening, you know? Margaret swept her hand through the air...

З життя4 години ago

“I Gave Birth to Your Son, But We Don’t Want Anything from You” – The Mistress Called Lera’s husband looked at her like a chastened dog. “That’s right, you didn’t mishear me, Lera. I… I had someone else, half a year ago. Just a few times—nothing serious, just a fling. And now, she’s given birth to my son. Recently…” Lera’s head was spinning. Talk about earth-shattering news! Her steady, loving husband, a child on the side! The meaning of what he said barely penetrated. For a moment, she simply stared. He sat across from her, shoulders hunched, hands squeezed tight between his knees. He seemed smaller than usual—deflated somehow. “A son, then,” repeated Lera. “So, you, a married man, now have a son. And it wasn’t your wife who gave birth. Not me…” “Lera, honestly, I didn’t even know. I swear.” “You didn’t know how babies are made? You’re forty, Nick.” “I didn’t know she’d… well, that she’d choose to keep it. We broke up long ago, she’s with her husband now. I thought that was it.” He fumbled with his words. “Then, yesterday, a call: ‘You’ve got a son. Seven pounds, healthy.’ And then she hung up…” Lera stood, legs unsteady, knees like jelly as if she’d just run a marathon. Outside, autumn raged. Lera found herself distracted by the view—beautiful, even now. “So what now?” she asked, her back to him. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Oh, great answer. A real man’s answer. You don’t know.” She spun around. “Are you going over there? To see him?” Nick, panic in his eyes, managed to mumble, “Lera, she gave me the hospital’s address, said discharge is in two days. She said: ‘Come if you want, don’t if you don’t. We don’t want anything from you.’” “Very noble of her…” Lera echoed. “‘We don’t want anything.’ How naive…” The front door slammed—her two eldest had returned. Instantly, Lera slipped on a smile. Years in business had taught her to keep her head up, even when a deal was falling apart. Their older son poked his head into the kitchen—a tall, broad-shouldered lad, twenty. “Hey, Mum, Dad. You both look glum! Mum, is there any food? We’re starving after training.” “Manty in the fridge, heat it up,” she replied automatically. “Dad, you promised to look at the carburettor on my rust-bucket,” called out her younger son, clapping Nick’s shoulder. The family scene stabbed at Lera’s heart. They called him Dad. Their real father had faded into the background years ago—now just money transfers and the occasional postcard. Nick had raised them: taught them to drive, patched scraped knees, handled school issues. He was their real dad. “I’ll take a look, Alex,” Nick smiled. “Give Mum and me a minute.” They left, clattering plates. Lera turned to him. “They love you,” she whispered. “And yet you…” “Lera, stop it. I love them too. They’re my boys. And I’m not leaving. I’ve told you—it was a mistake, an error in judgment. Nothing serious.” “Nothing serious—just the kind of mistake that leads to changing nappies,” she shot back. Their six-year-old daughter, Maisie, then burst in, and Lera’s composure cracked. Maisie leapt into her dad’s lap. “Daddy! Why are you sad? Did Mum scold you?” Nick pulled her close, burying his face in her pale hair. For her, Lera knew, he would do anything. “No, princess. Just adult stuff. Go pop on cartoons, I’ll be in soon.” With Maisie gone, silence fell again. “Everything’s changed, you know,” Lera said quietly, sitting again. “There’s a son out there, and he needs a dad. That woman says ‘nothing now’, but give it time—when there’s winter coats to buy or doctor’s bills, she’ll ring. And you’ll go. You’re kind-hearted, Nick—you always have been.” He said nothing. “And the money, Nick? Where are you going to get that?” Lera’s words hit their mark. His business collapsed two years ago—their debts paid from her earnings. He scraped by now, but everything important—home, cars, holidays, the kids’ education—came from her. Even his bank card was one attached to her account. “I’ll figure it out,” he muttered. “Driving Ubers at night? Or dipping into my purse to support your lovechild? I bankroll us, and now you’ll bankroll them—with my money?” “She’s not my mistress!” Nick barked. “It was over six months ago!” “Children have a way of binding people closer than any marriage certificate. Will you go to the hospital when they discharge her?” The question hung in the air. Nick covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know, Lera. Human decency says I should—after all, it’s not the child’s fault.” “And what about human decency toward me? Toward Maisie and the boys? You’ll hold that child, and you’ll get attached. Soon it’ll be weekly visits… then weekends away. You’ll start lying—to me, to the kids.” Nick grimaced. “She’s eight years younger than me, Nick. Thirty-two. She gave you a son—your own, flesh and blood. My sons aren’t yours by blood, as much as you raised them. That boy out there—he is.” Nick protested: “Nonsense. The boys are mine. I raised them.” “Men always want a legacy. Their very own.” “We have Maisie!” “She’s a girl, Nick…” Nick stood abruptly. “Enough! Stop pushing me out the door. I said I’m staying. I can’t just ignore the fact that somewhere there’s my own son. If you want me gone, I’ll leave—right now, pack my things and be gone. But don’t try to blackmail me, Lera!” Lera froze. If she said “leave” now, he would go—foolish, prideful, and broke. But he’d go straight to them. There, he’d be a hero, a savior, father—albeit a penniless one, but theirs. And then she’d lose him for good. Despite the pain, she didn’t want that. The children loved him. She did, too. “SIT,” she whispered. “No one’s throwing you out.” He hesitated, breathing heavily, then sat. “Lera, I’m sorry. I’m such a fool…” “A fool,” she agreed. “But MY fool…” That evening, Lera helped Maisie with homework, checked work emails… but her thoughts kept drifting. She pictured the other woman, young and beautiful, probably feeling victorious. “We don’t want anything!”—the most damning move of all. No demands, no drama, just presenting the facts. That pricks a man’s pride—makes him want to be the hero. Nick tossed and turned at night; Lera lay awake, staring into the dark. She was forty-five: gorgeous, stylish, successful—but aware that youth was not forever. The future belonged to that other woman. * The next morning was harder still. The boys ate quickly and left. Maisie cornered her father: “Daddy, braid my hair? Mum doesn’t do it right!” Nick obliged, his large hands strangely gentle. Lera sipped her coffee and watched: here was her husband—warm, familiar, hers. And out there was another child, who had the same claim. How was this fair? “Nick,” she said, as Maisie rushed off to dress. “We need to decide—now.” He set the brush aside. “I thought about it all night.” “And?” “I’m not going to the hospital.” Lera felt something tighten in her chest, but hid it. “Why?” “Because if I go, I’ll give hope—to her, to myself, to that child. I can’t be a part-time dad, split between two homes. I don’t want to lie to you, Lera. I don’t want to steal time from Maisie or the boys.” He looked at her, exhausted. “I chose you eleven years ago. You’re my wife. This—this is my family.” “And the boy?” Even she was surprised to hear herself ask it. “I’ll pay support. Through the courts or with a bank account—whatever’s needed. But visits? No. Better he grows up never knowing me, than waiting for a father who’s just watching the clock, desperate to get home to his real family. That’s fairer.” Lera was silent, rolling her wedding ring around her finger. “You’re sure you won’t regret this?” “I probably will,” Nick admitted. “I’ll worry, I’m sure. But if I go, I lose you—and you won’t stand for that. You’re strong, but not made of stone. You’ll start to hate me, and I can’t let that happen.” He crossed the kitchen, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want another life. I want you—and the kids. The rest is the price for my mistake. I’ll pay in money, and only in money. No time. No attention. That’s all I’ve got to give.” She placed her hand over his. “Your own money?” she smirked. “I’ll earn it. I’ll find a way. I’ll never ask for your help with this.” And with that, she was at peace. Her husband may not have behaved honourably toward her, but these were exactly the words she had needed. No sharing. The other woman could deal with her choices. Nick never went to the hospital. The mistress soon flooded his phone with angry voicemails. He told her bluntly: she could expect financial support, nothing more. She hung up, and for half a year—there wasn’t another word from her. Lera was more than satisfied with that.

I’ve had a son by you, but we want nothing from you, rang the voice down the phone his mistress....

З життя5 години ago

Gathered My Things and Set Off in Peace, My Wife Declared

Emily packed her suitcase, scrawled off in peace on a napkin, and drifted out the door like a sigh. Yesterday....

З життя6 години ago

The Estranged Relative Who Came Knocking

How do you picture that, Mum? Ilya snapped, looking annoyed. Im supposed to live two weeks with a complete stranger?...

З життя7 години ago

Move to Your ‘Own Territory’ – Declared the Husband

Move out to your own place, he said, his voice flat as dinner plates clattered. Victor had waited too long...

З життя16 години ago

Dad Didn’t Keep His Promise

You know, said Natalie, choosing her words carefully. Grownups can be downright foolish, sometimes even more so than children. Dad...