“Who are you, Ivan, to tell me how to live?” Tamara Pavlovna’s voice sounded piercing, and her eyes sparkled with anger. “Do you think, just because you’re courting my daughter, you can interfere in my affairs?”
“I’m not interfering, Tamara Pavlovna,” Ivan tried to speak calmly, though anger was boiling inside him, “I’m just asking you not to meddle in our relationship with Katya. This is our private space, and we will handle all matters ourselves.”
“Your private space!” the woman mocked him with a biting sneer. “It will become yours when you start providing for yourself. As long as my daughter depends on me, her life is my concern. And I will decide who is worthy of her attention and who is not. And you…” she twisted her lips in disdain, “you are clearly not fit for the role of a husband.”
In the next room, Katya pressed against the door, trembling with fear and hurt. Her hands hung limply, and tears stung her eyes. She understood her mother’s motives, but couldn’t agree with her assessment of Ivan. He was nothing like the person Tamara Pavlovna portrayed him to be. But how to explain this to her mother and calm Ivan?
“Tamara Pavlovna, let’s talk calmly,” Ivan tried to compose himself. “I know Katya’s well-being is important to you, but believe me: I’m doing everything I can.”
“Doing? Really?” she scoffed. “And where are the results? Katya constantly complains about being hungry because you don’t even have proper food. How can she be happy with you? Where are the guarantees that you can provide her with a decent life?”
Unable to bear the tension, Katya suddenly entered the room: “Mom, stop! I love Ivan, he loves me, and we don’t need someone else’s control to determine what’s best for us.”
“Fine,” Tamara Pavlovna coldly retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Live your life, but don’t count on my help. You might as well not invite me to your wedding—I’ll decide whether it’s worth showing up. I’m tired of watching you waste your life on such a…” she glanced contemptuously at Ivan, “a man without goals.”
Ivan turned pale but replied quietly yet firmly: “I have goals, they’re just different from what you imagine.”
“Goals?” Tamara Pavlovna smirked. “All I see is irresponsibility. No money? Earn it any way you can, no housing? Find a side job, no prospects? Develop yourself! Instead, you offer nothing but excuses for the weak!”
Katya felt her heart clench with pain. Her mother had never been so harsh before, especially in Ivan’s presence. The situation was clearly out of control. “Mom, please, stop!” she pleaded, grabbing her hand.
But Tamara Pavlovna rudely pulled away: “I’ve said all I wanted to say. I don’t want to waste more time on these conversations.”
The atmosphere reached a breaking point. Ivan turned to the window, Katya stood frozen in the middle of the room, covering her face with her hands, and Tamara Pavlovna, lips pressed tightly, headed for the exit.
The mother categorically forbade Katya from moving in with Ivan, adopting an uncompromising stance: until she saw real financial independence from the boy, her blessing was not even worth asking for.
And Ivan… How Katya loved him! He was twenty-five and worked in a small furniture workshop, creating beautiful and reliable interior items with his hands. Katya saw how devoted he was to his craft. The earnings were modest, but he already had his own, albeit small, apartment. His simplicity and independence attracted Katya. Unlike previous acquaintances who only built castles in the air, Ivan acted. He didn’t throw around loud promises but worked day by day.
However, for Tamara Pavlovna, he remained a “poor man” who, in her opinion, could not succeed. Ivan never spoke about wanting to open his own business. He worked in his friend’s workshop, helped with material purchases, and even tried to promote products through a website. But progress was slow, and Tamara Pavlovna grumbled discontentedly: “How can one live on such crumbs? Is this enough for a daughter?”
But what happened next… Continued down
