“What Do You Want From Me? That I Start Beating My Wife, Mom?! You’ve Completely Lost Your Mind!”

This Morning in the Kitchen

Daria stood in the small kitchen, hands moving swiftly as she chopped vegetables, never once glancing at her mother-in-law. The air was thick, the smell of coffee and heat from the stove making every step and every word from Alla Sergeyevna, her mother-in-law, feel like it could tear the kitchen apart.

“The dust is still here, just like last year,” she said, her voice dry like the pressed leaves in a herbarium, her finger sweeping across the top shelf of the cabinet, inspecting the speck of dirt on her fingertip with a look of disdain.

Daria remained silent. Only the steady thud of the knife against the cutting board echoed. Every visit from her mother-in-law turned their kitchen into a ticking time bomb; one slip, one word, and it could explode.

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