I read the message from my fiancée the day before the wedding: «My mom invites you to dinner tonight.» At the end of the evening, my future mother-in-law said something to her husband in Italian, and they laughed. Before leaving, I smiled, took her hand, and said in flawless Italian, «I understood everything.»
Alina woke up early. The day was gray, but inside, she felt light. Twenty-four hours remained until the wedding. On the table lay two registration tickets, a slim box with earrings for her bridesmaid, and a to-do list. She needed to pick up the bouquet, take the suit to the dry cleaner, and check the music with the host.
Her phone blinked. A message from Andrei. «My mom invites you to dinner tonight. She really insists. 7 p.m. Will you come?»
Alina stared at the screen for a few seconds. The message was polite, but the word «insists» grated, as if she were being summoned not for a warm evening, but for an inspection. She typed a reply, keeping it simple: «Of course, I’ll be there by 7.»
She put the phone down and walked to the window. In the courtyard, workers were rolling coffee barrels for the café on the corner. A cat strolled along the curb, unhurried. People were heading to work. Everything was ordinary, but inside her, tension was growing. Not fear, but a quiet anticipation.
Alina knew Andrei’s mother regarded her with suspicion. Their conversations at gatherings were cold. Her mother-in-law’s gaze always caught small details, piecing them into judgments. Alina tried to be polite, but after each meeting, she stayed silent for a long time.
She called her friend Marina and told her about the dinner. «Stay calm,» Marina said. «Don’t prove anything. Ask them about themselves. You don’t owe anyone anything.»
«I know,» Alina replied. «I just don’t want conflict on the last day. Let it be neutral.»
«If there’s a jab, you’ll handle it,» Marina said. «You’ve got the strength and the smarts.»
Alina smiled. Her friend knew she spoke Italian fluently, and that Alina had another surprise up her sleeve. An email from an international company awaited in her inbox, an offer for a project in Milan. She’d passed the interview but hadn’t told anyone yet. She planned to discuss it with Andrei after the wedding chaos settled or when the right moment came.
The day passed calmly. Alina picked up the bouquet, signed seating cards, and checked her dress. In the evening, she wore a simple navy dress and gray shoes, her hair tied in a low bun. The woman in the mirror had steady eyes: not a girl, not a warrior, just a normal adult woman who wanted to love and build a home.
At seven, she rang the bell at Andrei’s parents’ apartment. His father opened the door—tall, slightly stooped, with a gentle smile. He always spoke calmly and sparingly. He invited her to the living room, where Lyudmila Sergeyevna waited. Her hair was neatly styled, her light blue blouse pristine, a precious pendant at her neck.
Her smile lacked warmth. «Alina, hello,» she said. «You look so delicate. Aren’t you cold in that dress?»
«Good evening,» Alina replied. «I’m fine. Thank you for inviting me.»
Andrei emerged from the kitchen with a salad bowl. «Hey,» he said, smiling genuinely, and the tension eased. «Let’s eat.»
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