"Anton, maybe we shouldn't go?" Elena glanced at her husband nervously. "Your mother has guests today, and that means..."

"Lena, stop it," Anton adjusted his shirt collar. "We were invited. We have to go. Maybe everything will be fine."

Elena sighed. In the three years of their marriage, any celebration at Margarita Pavlovna’s turned into a real challenge.

The guests were already gathered at Margarita Pavlovna’s apartment — neighbors, friends, distant relatives. The sounds of clinking glasses, loud conversations, and laughter filled the air.

"Here come the young ones!" Margarita Pavlovna greeted them at the hallway. Her cheeks were flushed — a sure sign the party was in full swing.

"Mom, happy birthday!" Anton handed her a bouquet and a box of chocolates.

"Oh, son, why did you spend so much?" Margarita hugged the gifts to her chest. "And what about your bride? No card?"

"Mom, it’s a joint gift."

"Of course, a joint gift," Margarita snorted. "Come in, the guests are waiting."

At the table, Elena tried to remain inconspicuous. But nothing escaped Margarita Pavlovna’s sharp eyes.

"Lena, why aren't you eating?" the mother-in-law raised her glass. "Are you on a diet? Though why would you be? You don’t have children after all."

An awkward silence fell over the table.

"Margarita, what are you saying?" Valentina Sergeevna, Margarita's friend, tried to intervene.

"What? I’m telling the truth!" Margarita Pavlovna downed her glass. "Three years married and no results. At my age, I was already babysitting Antoshka."

"Mom, not now," Anton placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder.

"When then?" Margarita Pavlovna raised her voice. "When should I expect grandchildren? In my old age? Or not at all?"

Elena felt her face flush. Three years of struggles, doctors' visits, endless tests, and treatments. And now, her mother-in-law was mocking their pain.

"You know what..." Elena stood up, but Anton held her back.

"We’re staying till the end," he whispered. "It’ll only get worse if we leave now."

Sure enough, as soon as Elena made a move, Margarita Pavlovna jumped up.

"Aha! Running away? Does the truth hurt? Maybe you just don’t want children? You bewitched my Antoshka, and now you’re tormenting him!"

"Margarita Pavlovna, you’ve had too much," Nina Fedorovna, a neighbor, intervened.

"I haven’t had too much!" the mother-in-law grabbed a decanter. "I’ll drink more and tell you exactly what I think! And I think this... this... worthless woman has trapped my son!"

Elena clenched her fists under the table. All the humiliations from the past years flooded her mind — how before the wedding, Margarita had said Elena wasn’t "worthy" of her son. How she’d caused scenes at every celebration. How she’d called at night, demanding to “bring back her son.”

"Antoshka, we were looking for another bride for you," Margarita Pavlovna waved her hands. "Remember Svetochka? Now there was a girl! Good parents, and a beauty herself. And this one..."

"Excuse me, may I say something?" suddenly spoke up Valentina Sergeevna, who had been silent until now. "Margarita, you know I love you like a sister. But right now, you’re wrong."

"Valya, you too?" the mother-in-law pouted, offended.

"But think about how the girl feels," Valentina said, standing up. "She’s been enduring your reproaches for three years. Don’t you think that hurts her?"

"I don’t care..."

"You should!" Valentina stood firm. "I couldn’t have children for ten years either. And you know what helped? Not doctors or medicine. But my mother-in-law supporting me, being kind to me. And what are you doing?"

Margarita Pavlovna hesitated for a moment, then with renewed force:

"Don’t compare! You tried, but this one..."

"Mom!" Anton slammed his fist on the table. "Enough! You have no idea what we’re going through. Lena goes to doctors every month. We have all the certificates and tests. But it never occurred to you to ask! You only want to torment us!"

"Tosha, don’t you dare..."

"No, you don’t dare!" Anton stood up. "We’re leaving. And until you apologize to Lena, forget about us."

"Son, wait!" Margarita Pavlovna ran to the door but stumbled as she reached the threshold.

In the hallway, as Elena put on her coat, she heard her mother-in-law’s sobs.

"She took my son away! Witch! Bewitched him!"

"Let’s go," Anton said, taking his wife’s hand. "Don’t listen."

Outside, light rain began to fall. Elena and Anton walked quietly to the bus stop. Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded behind them.

"Wait!" Valentina Sergeevna caught up. "Elena, take this."

She handed Elena a business card.

"These are my doctor’s contacts. A wonderful specialist. And also..."

Elena didn’t hear the rest. Her phone began ringing nonstop — it was Margarita Pavlovna, calling without pause.

"Turn it off," Anton advised. "Let her calm down."

They arrived home late. Elena went straight to the shower, wanting to wash away the heaviness of the evening. Anton brewed tea and turned on the TV, trying to distract himself.

A week later, things had almost returned to normal. Margarita Pavlovna stopped calling, and life resumed its usual rhythm. Elena even scheduled an appointment with a new doctor.

That evening, she stayed late at work. Coming home, she heard loud shouting in the hallway. Margarita Pavlovna was pacing outside their apartment door.

"Come out! I know you’re home!" the mother-in-law shouted, banging on the door.

The neighbor, Zinaida Petrovna, looked out.

"It’s started again…" the elderly woman shook her head.

"How long can you torment my son?!" Margarita Pavlovna leaned against the wall, smelling of alcohol. "Normal women have children, and what about you? You only take money from the family!"

Elena froze in the stairwell. She didn’t want to go down — her mother-in-law was unpredictable in this state. Going up meant provoking another scandal.

"Anton!" Margarita Pavlovna screamed. "Son, I’m doing this for you! She bewitched you, I’m telling you!"

Neighbors began peeking out of their doors.

"What a circus…" someone whispered.

"Same thing every month," another voice replied.

Suddenly the door flew open. Anton stood at the threshold, pale with anger.

"Mom, enough!" his voice was tense.

"Aha, there you are!" Margarita Pavlovna staggered. "I thought maybe you were late at work? Son, we need to talk!"

"There’s nothing to talk about," Anton crossed his arms. "Go away."

"What do you mean nothing?!" Margarita Pavlovna tried to push past him, but he blocked the door. "Let me in! I’m your mother!"

"That’s exactly why I’ve tolerated this for so long. But now — enough."

"What does enough mean?!" Margarita Pavlovna waved her hand, almost losing her balance. "I came to save you from this... this..."

"Mom," Anton sighed. "Do you know what the doctors said? We’re having a baby. Elena is pregnant."

Margarita Pavlovna froze, her mouth agape.

"Lies! It can’t be! She..."

"It can. And you know what? We didn’t want to tell anyone yet. But you forced us."

"Prove it!" the mother-in-law swayed. "Let her show a certificate!"

"She’s not showing anything. Especially to you."

At that moment, Elena began climbing the stairs. Margarita Pavlovna sharply turned towards the sound of footsteps.

"Here she is!" the mother-in-law staggered. "Come here, tell everyone how you bewitched my son!"

Elena silently passed by, but Margarita Pavlovna grabbed her sleeve.

"Wait! I’m talking to you!"

"Mom, let her go," Anton stepped forward.

"I won’t! Let everyone know the truth!" Margarita Pavlovna raised her voice. "You think she’s really pregnant? Lies! She’s just afraid you’ll come to your senses and leave her!"

Elena yanked her hand free.

"Let go. You’re drunk."

"But you’re sober! And sober all three years! And what good did it do?" Margarita Pavlovna laughed bitterly. "Antoshka, son, open your eyes at last!"

"Enough," Anton took his mother by the elbow. "Let’s go inside."

In the hallway, Margarita Pavlovna stumbled over a suitcase. Beside it, a box with her belongings lay on the floor.

"What’s this?" she blinked, confused.

"Your things," Anton spoke calmly but firmly. "Take them and leave. We won’t tolerate this anymore."

"What things?" Margarita Pavlovna backed away. "Are you kicking your own mother out?"

"I’m not kicking anyone out. I’m just putting an end to this. Enough of you coming here drunk. Enough of the insults to my wife. Enough of the scandals."

"It’s all her fault!" Margarita Pavlovna pointed at Elena. "She turned you against your mother!"

"No, Mom. You destroyed everything yourself. With your own hands."

Margarita Pavlovna grabbed her chest.

"Son, you can’t be serious? I’m your mother! I gave you life!"

"And for that, I will always be grateful. But now I have my own family. And I won’t let you destroy it."

"Your own family?" the mother-in-law laughed hysterically. "With this... this... She can’t even give birth!"

"She can," Elena said softly. "I’m three weeks pregnant."

"Lies!" Margarita Pavlovna lunged at her daughter-in-law. "Show the certificate! Immediately!"

"Mom, stop," Anton held his mother back. "No one will show anything. Especially in this state."

"You choose her? Instead of your mother?"

"I choose a normal life. Without scandals and tantrums."

Margarita Pavlovna sank to the floor.

"You’re throwing your own mother out onto the street..."

"I’ll call a taxi," Anton took out his phone. "They’ll take you home."

"No taxi!" the mother-in-law jumped up. "I’ll go myself! All by myself! But don’t come back! Don’t ask for forgiveness!"

"We won’t," Anton replied calmly.

Margarita Pavlovna, staggering, left the building. Her curses and threats echoed behind the door for a long time. Finally, everything quieted down.

"Sorry," Anton hugged his wife. "I should have done this sooner."

The next morning, Anton called a locksmith to change the locks. He blocked his mother’s number — she had been calling and texting nonstop that night.

Elena stood by the window, watching the falling snow. For the first time in three years, their home was completely quiet. No one would call at night, demanding to be let in. No more scandals at the doorstep. No more accusations of witchcraft and infertility.

"What are you thinking about?" Anton hugged his wife from behind.

"About what we’ll name the baby."

"Already decided?"

"No. But I know for sure — not after grandma."

Anton laughed.

"That’s clear. You know, I remembered how Mom reacted to my girlfriends in my youth. She’d always find something to criticize: this one’s too thin, that one’s too fat, this one’s not the right height..."

"And me?"

"You’re perfect. And I really regret not protecting you sooner."

The doorbell rang. Zinaida Petrovna, the neighbor, stood on the doorstep.

"I heard what happened yesterday. Hang in there, guys. You did the right thing putting an end to it."

A month later, Margarita Pavlovna stopped sending angry messages from different numbers. Two months later, she stopped lurking outside their building. When little Sofia was born, she sent a card: "Congratulations. Let’s talk."

But Elena and Anton decided that some stories are better left unfinished. Sometimes, silence is the best solution.