For lunch, there was rice soup with milk and mashed potatoes with meatballs. Snejana had spent half the day at the stove, carefully preparing the menu for her daughter-in-law, thinking about what would be healthiest for a breastfeeding mother. Now she was proudly filling the plates.
Natalia ate in silence, without appetite. Everything she saw around her irritated her: the smell of food, her mother-in-law’s sweet tone, even the way Sergiu pretended that everything was “fine.”
— Could you please add a little salt? — Snejana asked with a fake smile. — It’s a bit bland, but it has to be this way for you.
Natalia slammed her spoon down on the plate.
— Maybe I could at least choose my own food, right? Because the rest of the house is already under your control.
— Oh, Natalia, how sensitive you are! — Snejana shook her head. — I just want to help you.
Sergiu sighed and stood up.
— Enough, I don’t want any more arguments. I’m going outside with Denisu. You two can talk… peacefully.
The door closed, and the heavy silence between the two women could cut through the air.
Snejana got up and started to clear the plates.
— You know, Natalia, a house is like a woman. You can tell right away when it is loved and cared for…
— So you mean to say that I don’t love my house, right? — Natalia burst out. — Or that I don’t keep it clean?
— I just observe… — the old woman shrugged.
— You observe too much! — Natalia said, trembling with anger. — I need peace, not observations.
She took the plates from her mother-in-law’s hands and put them in the sink. Snejana fell silent, but the ironic smile did not disappear from her face.
In the evening, when the whole house was asleep, Natalia sat on the edge of the bed, looking at little Ana. The child was sleeping peacefully, with her tiny fists clenched. In the dim light, tears filled her eyes.
— Lord, what am I doing here? — she whispered. — In my own house, I feel like a guest.
The door opened slowly. Sergiu entered.
— Are you crying again? — he said gently. — Please, be patient. Mom won’t stay long.
Natalia stood up.
— You said that a month ago, and she’s still here. She moves the furniture, she decides what we eat, she corrects me at every step. I can’t take it anymore, Sergiu. I feel like I’m suffocating.
He was silent. Deep down, he knew she was right, but he didn’t dare to admit it.
The next day, Snejana woke up early, as usual. She entered the children’s room and saw Denisu playing with blocks.
— What are you doing, little one? Let’s clean up, because your mom is tired.
— No! — the little boy said, turning around with a small stubbornness clearly inherited from his mother. — Mom says I can leave it until I finish the castle.
— Aha, so your mom decides, — Snejana murmured.
When Natalia entered, the atmosphere was already tense.
— What happened? — she asked.
— Nothing, just that your little one has no discipline. I’m just trying to teach him order.
— Let it be, Mrs. Snejana, he’s only three years old. He doesn’t need military order; he needs childhood.
The old woman sighed dramatically.
— With such methods, he won’t grow up to be a serious person.
Then Natalia felt her cup overflowing.
— Enough! — she said, trembling with rage. — Either she leaves, or I do!
Sergiu, caught in the middle, stood up from the table, pale.
— Natalia…
— No “Natalia”! — she interrupted him. — I’m tired of living among reproaches and sermons. I want peace for my children.
The next day, Snejana packed her bags in silence. Sergiu took her to the train station without a word.
When he returned, the house seemed bigger, brighter. Natalia was sitting on the couch, with Ana in her arms and Denisu pressed against her.
Sergiu approached and kissed her forehead.
— You were right, — he said softly. — Without peace, no family can survive.
Natalia smiled for the first time in a long while.
— I don’t want to be perfect, Sergiu. Just for the three of us to be… and peace.
Outside, the sun was breaking through the clouds, lighting up the room. And in that new, clean silence, only the gentle breathing of the children could be heard — a sign that, at last, the house had become theirs again.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or for the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
