Alena stood in front of the mirror in her hotel room, adjusting the folds of her wedding dress, and felt a familiar anxiety squeeze her throat. She was confident in her choice. Until she heard the mind of her future mother-in-law.

“Vulgar,” Valentina Grigoryevna had said when they came to show her the dress. She looked her daughter-in-law over from head to toe as if she were assessing a product at the market.

“What exactly don’t you like?” she said.– That’s it, my dear! – the woman waved her hand.

– These frills of yours… In my time, brides selected something more honorable. And here you have some kind of gypsy outfit.

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– Sasha, do you like my dress? – Alyona asked directly.

“Yes, it’s normal…” he squeezed out. “The important thing is that you feel comfortable.”

“Alexander,” the mother said sternly,“you can’t indulge every whim. The girl needs to be told where things are. A wedding is a serious matter, not some kind of disco.”

“Mom, stop it already,” Sasha whispered.

Her mother-in-law pierced her with a cold gaze.

– Taste is built by upbringing, my dear. And upbringing… well, you know. Where would it come from in a girl from the outskirts, who was picking potatoes just yesterday?

“Lyon, wait,” Sasha finally responded. “Mom, why are you doing this?”

– What did I say?

– I’m just telling the truth. It’s better for him to know now than to be embarrassed later.

Alena didn’t answer and left.

She studied at a Moscow university for four years. She worked at a large advertising agency. Her parents gave her a good foundation. All of this would sound like justification. And Alena wasn’t going to make excuses to this woman.

In the evening Sasha came with flowers.

“Forgive her,” he said, kissing Alena on the forehead. “She’s just worried. You know, I’m her only son.”

– Does my majesty mean anything to you at all? Or are my mother’s whims more crucial?

– Lyon, don’t be dramatic. The wedding is in a week, everything will be fine. She’ll get used to you.

– And if he doesn’t get used to it?

Sasha hugged her tighter.

– She’ll get used to it. She has nowhere to go. You’re so perfect.

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But then Alena already understood: in a conflict between his mother and wife, Sasha would always choose his mom. S

And now she stood in front of the mirror on her wedding day.
“Maybe there really is something wrong with the dress?” But no – it fit her figure perfectly, not vulgar, not provocative. The makeup was beautiful, the hairdo was graceful. No “gypsyism”.

– Lenka, are you ready? – Sasha’s voice was heard from behind the door.

– Yes, I’m coming!

The ceremony at the registry office passed quickly. Valentina Grigoryevna sat in the front row in a dark blue Italian suit. When the newlyweds were asked to kiss, she started to check her nails.

“Mom, you’re so little,” Sasha muttered to her after the ceremony.

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