“My husband backed up his relatives’ joke at my expense. But after my reply, my mother‑in‑law clutched her chest, and my husband turned bright red.
The sixth month isn’t exactly the best time for family gatherings with your husband’s relatives—especially when most of them have never been particularly fond of you. Vera knew this, but she agreed anyway. Anton had just returned from a two-week business trip, and his mother, Regina Mikhailovna, insisted on a “small family dinner.”
“Come on,” Anton urged, standing in the bedroom doorway. “Mom just wants to see us. She’s worried.”
Vera sighed.
“She’s ‘worried’… Sure,” she said. “She didn’t even call for three months to ask how I was doing. And now suddenly she’s concerned.”
“Well, she just doesn’t know how to approach you,” Anton replied. “You’re not exactly warm toward her yourself.”
“Go ahead and blame me,” Vera said, lifting a tired look to her husband. “You know how they feel about me. Especially your mother.”
“All right, enough,” Anton winced. “We’ve discussed this a hundred times. You’re exaggerating.”
“Exaggerating?” Vera shot to her feet, her dress stretching over her rounded belly. “Remember at our wedding when your mother said she hoped her grandchildren would look like you, not me?”
Anton rolled his eyes wearily.
“Fine, okay, she can be… indiscreet. But things have changed now. You’re pregnant; we’re having a baby soon. She really wants to mend fences.”
Vera tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and checked the time. It would start in half an hour. Her bump was already quite noticeable, so she’d had to choose a loose‑fitting dress—a dark blue one with a small floral print. Her mother‑in‑law would surely grimace when she saw it. “Too plain,” she’d say in that special tone that gave Vera goosebumps.
“All right,” Vera conceded. “But if they start their usual jabs, I won’t stay quiet. Just so you know.”
Regina Mikhailovna’s house always looked impeccable. Even now, as a fine autumn drizzle fell outside and the wind swept golden leaves across the paths, inside it was warm, dry, and spotless. Not a speck of dust on the antique furniture, not a blemish on the snowy-white tablecloth.
“Come in, take off your coats,” Regina Mikhailovna greeted them with her standard smile, surveying Vera with an appraising eye. “Oh, my, you’re really… rounded now.”
“Hello, Regina Mikhailovna,” Vera forced a smile. “Yes, six months along already.”
“Six months?” her mother‑in‑law raised her eyebrows. “And you look eight. Must be a big baby. Or are you just terribly swollen? Have you checked your blood pressure?”
Continued in the comments “