Lyuda looked at the snow outside the window and thought about her parents. All December, her father complained of chest pains, but refused to go to the doctor. “It will go away on its own,” Sergei Petrovich brushed off when his daughter raised the topic. As a result, instead of a festive feast on New Year’s, there was a hospital ward and an emergency heart operation. Her mother did not leave her father’s side, sleeping on a folding bed. And today, Sergei Petrovich was finally discharged home.
Lyuda always felt a special connection with her parents. Since childhood, she considered them her best friends, the most understanding, the wisest. And it was from them that she inherited her kindness and desire to help people. Sergei Petrovich was a cardiologist, and Maria Vasilievna was a therapist at a district clinic. They saved lives, listened to the gratitude of patients, but they themselves never lived in luxury. “The main thing is health, the rest will follow,” her father liked to repeat. But at sixty-five, Sergei Petrovich himself found himself in the role of a patient.
That evening, Lyuda made up her mind. All her life she had dreamed of giving her parents something important, significant, more than a calendar or a tea set. Something that would make their eyes sparkle, make their shoulders straighten. Her parents needed rest, silence, the opportunity to be in nature. They needed a dacha. And in the spring, it would definitely happen.
Pavel, Lyuda’s husband, entered the room and interrupted her thoughts:
– Are you lost in thought? How is your father?
“They discharged me today,” Lyuda turned to her husband. “Pash, I decided…”
“Sorry, I’m late,” Pavel glanced at his watch. “We’ll talk this evening, okay?”
Luda nodded. Perhaps it was for the best. The idea of buying a dacha for her parents had not yet taken shape, it was necessary to think everything over, to calculate the possibilities.
Luda spent the next weekend looking for a suitable plot of land. Small, cozy, not far from the city. So that her parents could easily get there. So that there would be trees and space for beds – her father had long dreamed of growing tomatoes. So that the house would be old, but strong.
After two weeks of searching, an option was found in the gardening community “Romashka” – a modest wooden house with a terrace and six hundred square meters of land. The previous owners had maintained the plot in good condition, but moved to another city and put the dacha up for sale. The amount was impressive, but Lyuda had recently received a large bonus, and she had some savings.
“Are you sure?” Pavel asked when Lyuda shared her plans. “It’s not a small sum.”
“It’s my money,” Lyuda shrugged. “Money from the bonus I deserved.”
Pavel gave his wife a strange look, muttered something like “your money, your business,” and didn’t return to the topic again.
A month later, the documents were drawn up. The dacha officially belonged to Lyuda, but from the very beginning the woman knew that it was a gift to her parents. Of course, she did not re-register it legally, in order to protect the elderly from unnecessary hassle with taxes and utility bills. But she immediately said:
– Mom, Dad, this is for you. Your house, your plot, your vacation.
The parents were moved. Maria Vasilievna even shed tears, and her father hugged his daughter tightly, and in this embrace Lyuda felt what it all was for – gratitude, joy, anticipation of a new life after a difficult trial.
“Daughter, but we… we don’t even know what to say,” the mother whispered.
“Just take care of yourselves,” smiled Lyuda. “You both need air, sun, peace. And as soon as it gets warmer, we’ll go and get things settled.”
And indeed, with the first warm days, Lyuda’s parents set off to settle in the new place. Maria Vasilievna made a list of necessary things, Sergey Petrovich wrote out the names of the seedlings he planned to plant from the magazine “Garden and Vegetable Garden”. Life seemed to be filled with new meaning.
Lyuda didn’t tell any of her husband’s relatives about the purchase. Why? It was personal, family. Besides, her relationship with her mother-in-law had always been difficult. Antonina Vasilyevna, Pavel’s mother, looked at her daughter-in-law appraisingly from the first day they met. “What did you buy? And what did you bring for my parents? And why did Pavel get this shirt and not another one?” – these questions were constantly heard. Any manifestation of concern for the man’s parents was immediately compared to concern for her own parents. And any advantage in Lyuda’s favor was unacceptable. And a gift like a dacha… She simply didn’t want to hear comments and make public what was done from the heart.
But one Saturday Antonina Vasilievna called her daughter-in-law:
– Lyudochka, let’s meet and talk. I have something to do.
Lyuda became wary. Her mother-in-law rarely called without reason, usually for some unpleasant reason.
“Did something happen?” Luda asked cautiously.
– No, no, it’s okay, – there were some strange, conspiratorial notes in Antonina Vasilyevna’s voice. – We just need to discuss one issue. Can you make it to the cafe on the corner in an hour?
“Yes, okay,” agreed Lyuda, mentally going over the options of what we could talk about.
The café greeted us with a cozy semi-darkness and the smell of coffee. Antonina Vasilievna was already sitting at the table, dressed up, with her hair perfectly done. In front of her lay a notebook and some printouts.
“Lyudochka, sit down,” the mother-in-law smiled affably, which was strange in itself. “Would you like some coffee?”
– Yes, thank you, – Lyuda was becoming more and more perplexed. Why such courtesy?
When the coffee was brought, Antonina Vasilievna pulled the notebook and printouts towards her.
– I found out that you bought a dacha for your parents. So, my husband and I decided that it is now ours. After all, the May holidays are coming soon! – the mother-in-law declared in such a tone as if it was something self-evident.
Lyuda almost choked on her coffee.
– Excuse me, what?
– Well, the dacha. Pasha told me that you bought a house for your family. Well done, of course, golden daughter, – Antonina Vasilyevna smiled, but there was a harshness in her eyes. – And I thought: why don’t Igor Stepanovich and I relax there for the May holidays? We’re already tired of the city apartment, we want to get out into nature.
Lyuda was speechless. Where did Pavel come from… Why did he tell her? And how did her mother-in-law even think of such a thing?
– Antonina Vasilievna, but this is not a dacha for guests, – Lyuda began cautiously. – I bought it for my parents, my father had an operation, they need rest, air…
“Everyone has their own problems,” the mother-in-law waved it off. “Igor’s blood pressure is also fluctuating. And what, are your parents now laying claim to the entire dacha? Are you greedy?”
Lyuda tried to comprehend what was happening. This was some kind of absurdity.
– Greedy? – Lyuda asked again. – What does greed have to do with it? I used my own money to give my parents a present. The dacha is registered in my name, only my parents and I have the keys. There are already seedlings planted there, beds arranged.
– Oh, come on! – the mother-in-law irritably tapped her nails on the table. – You have two apartments, and now a dacha – you could at least give us something. My husband and I decided – this is our dacha now.
– Two apartments? – Luda asked, confused. – I have one apartment, where Pavel and I live. The second one belongs to my parents, and I have nothing to do with it.
– But you are registered there! – Antonina Vasilievna said triumphantly. – That means it is yours. And Pasha, by the way, is only in one. So, you and your parents are rich, you have everything. And now you have even pocketed the dacha.
Lyuda began to get angry. This whole conversation seemed like some kind of farce.
– Listen, – Lyuda said firmly. – The dacha was bought with my money for my parents. I am not going to “give” it or “not give” it to anyone. Especially since my parents have already started settling in there.
– Oh, come on, don’t be selfish, – Antonina Vasilievna pushed the printouts towards Lyuda. – Look, I’ve already found some garden furniture and a barbecue. All you need is the keys to the gate. Come on, don’t be stingy.
Lyuda stood up from the table:
– I have to go. And let’s close this topic. There will be no keys.
– So that’s how it is, – the mother-in-law narrowed her eyes. – Okay, I’ll call Pasha myself.
Lyuda returned home in confusion. Her husband had not yet returned from work, and there was time to think about what had happened. It turns out that Pavel told his mother about the dacha, although Lyuda asked him not to do so. And it is still unknown what exactly he told, since his mother-in-law decided that she could lay claim to someone else’s property.
When Pavel finally appeared, Lyuda immediately asked a question:
— Did you tell your mother about the dacha for my parents?
The husband froze for a moment, then shrugged:
– What’s wrong? She asked where your parents were going for the May holidays, and I answered.
– And what exactly did you tell her? – Lyuda tried to speak calmly.
– Well, what did you buy them a dacha? – Pavel walked into the room, taking off his tie. – What, is that a secret?
“I asked you not to spread the word,” Lyuda reminded. “Especially to your mother. You know what she’s like.”
Pavel sighed and rubbed his face tiredly.
– Look, don’t exaggerate. Big deal, I told you. Mother was just wondering what’s new with us.
– Just curious? – Lyuda shook her head. – Then why did she show up at the cafe today and announce that my parents’ dacha now belongs to her? Why did she drag in catalogues of garden furniture and demand the keys?
Pavel frowned:
– What? She couldn’t say that.
“Of course I could,” Lyuda opened her phone and showed her husband a message from her mother-in-law: “I’m waiting for the keys to the dacha until tomorrow. Don’t be selfish.”
Pavel shrugged:
– Well, Mom just wants to go there. What’s wrong? There’s a dacha, it’s a beautiful place, why not share?
Lyuda silently took the documents and the map out of the desk drawer. She unfolded them in front of her husband:
– Look. Here are the documents for the plot, registered in my name. Here is a receipt stating that I paid the entire amount. Here is a map of the garden association. My parents have already transported the seedlings there, arranged the beds. And your family never had and never will have the keys. This is not a place for guests, Pasha. This is a gift to my parents, my concern for them.
Pavel blushed with anger:
– So your parents can, but mine can’t? Are you serious?
“I bought a dacha with my own money for my parents after my father’s serious operation,” Lyuda answered calmly. “And your mother demands someone else’s property for herself simply because she wanted it. Do you feel the difference?”
The husband turned away and said one last thing:
– You’re always dividing. Mine and yours. This is family, by the way. For normal people, this means sharing, not counting pennies.
Lyuda didn’t answer. What’s the point? Every conversation with Pavel about Antonina Vasilyevna ended the same way: Lyuda remained guilty for not wanting to tolerate her mother-in-law’s whims.
The next morning, Lyuda’s phone rang with new calls. Antonina Vasilievna was not going to back down.
– Lyudmila, this is simply indecent! – the mother-in-law’s voice rang with indignation. – You are obliged to give us the keys. You are in the family, which means you must share. It is fair!
“Antonina Vasilievna, the dacha was bought for my parents,” Lyuda repeated firmly. “And only I can decide who will be there.”
– Okay! – the mother-in-law’s voice took on a shrill tone. – Then at least tell me the address and the gate code. We’ll figure it out ourselves!
“No,” Lyuda was adamant. “I repeat once again: this is private property, not a family holiday home.”
– You… how are you… – Antonina Vasilievna was choking with indignation. – Pasha will find out how you treat us!
Luda turned off her phone. Enough. Talking won’t help – we need action.
Half an hour later, Lyuda was already sitting in the car and driving to her parents. From there, straight to the dacha. On the way, she called her father and explained everything.
“Don’t worry, daughter,” Sergei Petrovich answered calmly. “I’ll pick up Igor from work now, we’ll come together. We’ll do everything right.”
Igor, Luda’s younger brother, owned a small construction company. His help was most welcome now.
By evening, the dacha had turned into a small fortress. Igor and the workers installed a camera at the entrance, put in a new iron door and, at Sergei Petrovich’s suggestion, welded the old lock shut. Now the only way to get into the property was to have a key to the new lock, which only Lyuda and her parents had.
“That’s it,” Sergei Petrovich put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Let them try now.”
Returning home late in the evening, Lyuda discovered that Pavel was gone. There was a note on the table: “He went to see his mom for a couple of days. Need to cool off.”
Lyuda wasn’t worried. On the contrary, she had time to calmly think about everything that had happened in the last few days. A few hours later, a message came from her husband: “You’re going too far. You’re ruining your relationship with the whole family. You have to be able to compromise.”
Lyuda wondered, what kind of relationship was this? Where the husband considers it normal to give her property “for family needs”, and the mother-in-law decides that she can take what does not belong to her? When did this strange distribution begin – mine becomes common, and common remains only mine? And why is it she, Lyuda, who always has to “make compromises”?
Pavel had not shown up at home for three days already. But he sent messages regularly: reproaching, hinting at selfishness, greed. “Family is when you share”, “Mom is so upset”, “Why are you so insensitive” – these phrases were repeated in different variations.
The May holidays arrived. It was on this day that Antonina Vasilievna promised to “come to the dacha.” In the morning, the doorbell rang. Lyuda looked at the intercom screen and saw her mother-in-law’s angry face.
– Open up! – Antonina Vasilievna shouted, pressing the doorbell. – I know you’re home!
Lyuda didn’t open it. She just looked at the screen and listened to the screams:
– You have to give us the key! We are relatives, it is only fair that the plot be shared! It is not only for your old people, but for ours too! Do you hear me? Open the door right now!
Lyuda moved away from the door and sat down on the sofa. A strange feeling came over her – not anger, not fear, but some kind of… liberation. As if Antonina Vasilievna, with her cries, was confirming the correctness of the decision made.
The doorbell rang for another fifteen minutes, then died down. And an hour later, a message came from Pavel: “Mom is in tears. How could you?”
Luda didn’t answer. What’s the point? Whatever she said would be twisted, distorted, used against her.
A week later Pavel returned home. He looked rumpled and tired, but was clearly in the mood for reconciliation.
– Lyud, let’s talk, – the husband sat down opposite. – Everything has gone too far. I promise that I will explain the situation with the dacha to my mother. She is simply offended, you understand? She feels deprived.
“Deprived of what?” Lyuda asked quietly. “Because she couldn’t take someone else’s property?”
– Come on, – Pavel took his wife’s hand. – You’re wiser. We just need to find a compromise. Maybe we should let them come at least sometimes? On weekends, for example?
Lyuda looked at her husband in silence. The same Pavel who had not gone to defend the dacha, who had spent a week with his mother, discussing what a bad wife Lyuda was, was now sitting opposite and talking about compromises.
“You know,” Lyuda finally said, “I think it’s time for us to part.”
– What? – Pavel pulled his hand away. – Because of the dacha?
“No,” Lyuda shook her head. “Because you don’t see anything strange in your mother’s behavior. Because you think it’s normal to impose your decisions on me. Because my opinion means nothing to you.”
The next day, Lyuda filed for divorce. Without scandals, calmly, with cold calculation. When Pavel found out, he rushed home, shouted, threatened, promised that “mother would no longer interfere.” But it was too late. Lyuda made her decision.
Now the dacha is quiet. Sergei Petrovich and Maria Vasilievna have laid out beds and built a small greenhouse. Father, gradually recovering from the operation, spends every day in the fresh air. Mother has blossomed, taking care of flowers.
In the spring, lilacs and strawberries will bloom on the plot – the same ones that Lyuda picked with her grandmother as a child. Sergey Petrovich brought seeds from the village where they used to rent a dacha. “For continuity,” her father said, and Lyuda realized that the gift was truly a success. The parents perceive the dacha as their own – a place of power, a place of joy.
And Lyuda? Lyuda understood an important thing: where they say “we decided”, you can always say “but I didn’t”. And sometimes one signature on a document gives more freedom than dozens of conversations about “family values”.
Other people’s decisions are not a reason to share yours. Especially if it is given from the heart.
