Dima, look what I have on my phone, Lena held out her smartphone to her husband, frowning. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, lighting up their cozy living room.
Dima looked up from his laptop, lazily glancing at the screen filled with some unknown audio files.
Some unnamed recordings. Weird, he shrugged.
Maybe something got recorded by accident?
Lena pressed play. The voice of her mother-in-law sounded in the room not the sweet, syrupy tone Vera Arkadyevna usually used with her, but sharp, full of contempt:
“Did you see her new dress? She should’ve lost some weight first before dressing up.
And she even dares to make remarks about my style!”
Lena clenched her fists and deleted the recording, feeling her cheeks burn with shame and anger.
Forget it, Dima waved it off, returning to work. Just typical female jealousy.
A cup of tea cooled on the coffee table, while an uneasy feeling began to grow inside Lena’s soul.
That uneasy feeling didn’t leave Lena all evening. She mechanically prepared dinner, chopping vegetables for the salad, while Dima fussed with the dishwasher that was acting up again.
Maybe we should call a repairman?
Lena suggested, watching her husband focus on the filter.
I’ll manage, Dima grumbled. No need to waste money.
Their two-room apartment in an old brick building had been handed down to Lena from her parents. Small but cozy, with high ceilings and old parquet flooring that Dima himself refinished last summer.
They only paid utilities which was a significant plus for a young family with a one-year-old child.
The doorbell rang just as they sat down to eat. Lena sighed, already knowing who it was.
I’m here for my grandson! Vera Arkadyevna announced from the doorstep, an elegant lady in an expensive cashmere coat.
She pulled a small plastic toy car from her purse. I brought it for Misha. And something for your tea, she extended a box of cheap candies.
Thanks, come in, Lena forced a smile, accepting the gifts.
The mother-in-law entered the room where Misha was playing, cooing softly.
Lena remembered how last week Vera Arkadyevna had bragged about the new iPhone she gave her daughter Rita. “She dreamed of it so much, how could I refuse?” the mother-in-law had said, glancing meaningfully at Lena’s old phone.
It reminded her of an incident a year ago when Vera Arkadyevna came with a photo album.
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