The call came on Saturday morning, while Andrey and I were still in bed, savoring a rare chance to sleep in. My husband reached for the phone reluctantly, and from his voice I immediately understood—it was my mother-in-law.

“Yeah, Mom… When? For how long?…” Andrey spoke cautiously, as he always did when talking to his mother. “Of course, come…”

I closed my eyes and mentally said goodbye to a peaceful weekend. Valentina Ivanovna didn’t visit often, but every visit turned into an ordeal. And if Nastya came with her…

“They’ll be here tomorrow,” Andrey said, hanging up. “Mom and Nastya. For a week.”

“What happened?”—though I already knew. Nastya had run into trouble with men again and was running to her brother to lick her wounds.

“Another suitor vanished. Nastya’s upset, and Mom decided she needs a change of scenery.”

I nodded, trying to look understanding. In five years of marriage I’d gotten used to this scenario. Andrey adored his little sister, had spoiled her since childhood, and now thirty-year-old Nastya still felt her brother was obliged to solve all her problems.

The problem was that both my mother-in-law and sister-in-law openly disliked me. To them I was an upstart—a city girl who’d taken their boy away from his hometown. The fact that I graduated with honors, worked at a large IT company, and made decent money only irritated them. Valentina Ivanovna often hinted that good wives should stay home and take care of the family, not “build careers.”

They arrived Sunday evening. Nastya did look truly upset—eyes red, hair carelessly gathered. My mother-in-law immediately started settling in as if she’d come not for a week but forever.

“Katya, did you pull out the sofa for us?” she asked, sweeping her gaze over our apartment. “And what is this bedding… It’s synthetic! How can anyone sleep on that?”

I silently produced the best we had and went to the kitchen to make dinner. Half an hour later Nastya peeked in.

“Let me help,” she said in an unexpectedly gentle tone.

She usually avoided any housework, so I was on my guard. But I didn’t show it.

“Sure, thanks. You can chop the salad.”

We worked in silence, but I could feel Nastya throwing me studying looks now and then. When Andrey went to shower, she finally spoke:

“Listen, Katya… Aren’t you bored with Andrey? He’s so… homebound. And you’re used to an active life, to colleagues…”

“I’m happy with your brother,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm. “We understand each other perfectly.”

“Right, of course,” Nastya drawled. “It’s just… men are different. Some are more… exciting.”

I stayed silent. I had no desire to discuss my marriage with her.

The first three days passed relatively peacefully. Valentina Ivanovna criticized my cooking and cleaning, Nastya ostentatiously moped and complained about life. I tried to ignore it and spent more time at work.

On Thursday morning, as I was getting ready, Nastya suddenly asked:

“What time will you be home today? Maybe we could meet somewhere? Walk around the city?”

“I have a meeting till seven,” I said. “But we can meet after.”

“Great! I’ll call you.”

She didn’t call. But that evening, when I came home, the atmosphere was strange. My mother-in-law and Nastya were sitting in the kitchen looking guilty, and Andrey seemed thoughtful.

“How’s it going?” I asked, kissing my husband.

“Fine,” he said, but for some reason he looked away.

Over dinner, Valentina Ivanovna suddenly said:

“Katya, we saw you today. You were sitting in a café across from the department store. With a man.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, we had a work meeting with a client. So what?”

“Oh, nothing,” my mother-in-law said quickly. “It just looked like you were sitting very… close.”

“Mom,” Andrey gently cut her off. “Katya’s job is like that; she has to meet different people.”

But I noticed the way he looked at me—there was a flicker of anxiety. So they’d already managed to plant something in his head.

The next day the story repeated itself. Only now they supposedly saw me getting out of “some handsome brunette’s” car. And the day after that—walking arm in arm with “a tall blond.”

“Good grief,” I said when Andrey and I were alone. “Are they actually following me?”

“Don’t be silly,” my husband said, but I heard uncertainty in his voice. “They just happen to see you.”

“Andrey, you do realize I have a lot of male colleagues? What am I supposed to do—stop talking to them?”

“Of course not. I trust you.”

But I could see a worm of doubt gnawing at him. Nastya and my mother-in-law were working subtly—they didn’t accuse me directly, they just sowed suspicion. And that was far more dangerous than open attacks.

On Monday morning, while I was checking my email, a text came from an unknown number: “I can’t forget last night. You were stunning. Can’t wait for more.”

I showed the message to Andrey.

“Probably a mistake,” he said after a pause.

“Probably,” I agreed, but decided to keep an eye on it.

On Tuesday a bouquet of roses arrived. No signature, just a card: “From your secret admirer.”

On Wednesday—another text: “I think only of you. When will we meet?”

I told Andrey about everything honestly. He frowned but tried to look calm. My mother-in-law and Nastya, however, exchanged meaningful glances at each such “surprise.”

“Katya,” Valentina Ivanovna finally said, “maybe you should tell your husband who it is? It’s all a bit awkward.”

“I am telling him,” I said. “But I don’t know who it is.”

“How can you not know?” Nastya was surprised. “Women usually sense these things.”

I looked at her closely. Something like gloating flashed in her eyes.

On Thursday morning a courier brought a package from a lingerie store. Expensive, beautiful, but clearly not my size. It came with a note: “For a special occasion. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Then I pretended to be genuinely frightened.

“Andrey,” I said in a trembling voice, “this is crossing all boundaries. Someone’s following me, they know our address. I’m scared. Let’s go to the police—let them find out whose names these numbers are registered under, who ordered the delivery.”

Andrey frowned.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go to the police right away? Let’s try to figure it out ourselves…”

“No,” I insisted, carefully feigning panic. “I’m scared. What if this person is dangerous? What if he…”

I didn’t finish, because my mother-in-law and Nastya burst into the room.

“No police!” shouted Valentina Ivanovna. “We… we confess…”

“To what?” I asked coolly, though I’d long since figured it out.

“It was us,” Nastya muttered, lowering her eyes. “We just wanted to… joke around.”

I slowly shed the mask of a frightened victim and laughed.

“Joke around?” I repeated. “That’s quite a joke. Sending lingerie, writing love messages, stalking someone…”

“Katya…” Andrey began, stunned.

“Wait, dear. I’m not finished.” I turned to Nastya. “Do you think I’m a fool? On Monday I noticed someone was following me. On Tuesday I went to the flower shop and found out who ordered the bouquet. You changed the number, of course, but it’s still registered to you. On Wednesday I checked the second number—also yours, the old one. And the lingerie was ordered by Mom; I saw the store page open on her laptop.”

Silence fell. Nastya stood as red as a beet, my mother-in-law kept clenching and unclenching her hands.

“But why?” Andrey asked quietly.

“Because I stick in your sister’s and mother’s craw,” I said calmly. “They think you chose the wrong wife. They decided to break us up. Classic plan: sow doubts, make you believe I have a lover.”

“That’s not true!” Nastya squealed. “We just…”

“Just what?” I cut her off. “Just wanted what’s best for me? Your family tried to wreck my marriage, but I put them in their place. That’s all.”

Andrey slowly turned to his mother and sister. In his eyes I saw a fury I’d never seen before.

“Get out,” he said quietly but distinctly. “Pack your things and get out of my house.”

“Andryusha, we…” began Valentina Ivanovna.

“Right now!” he shouted so loudly they flinched. “And I don’t want to see you here again!”

An hour later they left. Nastya was sobbing aloud, my mother-in-law muttered something about ungrateful children. Andrey silently helped carry their bags to the taxi.

When we were alone, he sat on the couch for a long time with his face in his hands.

“Forgive me,” he said at last. “I should have realized right away. I should have protected you.”

“You did protect me,” I said, sitting beside him. “When it mattered.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“I suspected from the start. Everything began a little too conveniently—right when they arrived. And those looks they exchanged whenever a text came. Nastya could barely keep from laughing.”

“But why didn’t you tell me right away?”

I paused, choosing my words.

“Because I wanted you to expose them yourself. Or for them to confess. Then I realized it could drag on, and decided to provoke them. The police—that was what they feared most.”

Andrey hugged me.

“You’re too smart for me,” he said. “And too good. Anyone else would have left me long ago because of relatives like that.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “I love you, not your relatives. Though of course it wasn’t pleasant.”

“They won’t come here again. I promise.”

“Don’t say ‘never,’” I said gently. “They’re your family, after all. But next time—if there is a next time—let them stay at a hotel.”

He nodded and held me tighter. And I thought that sometimes family wars end in unexpected victories. The main thing is not to give up and to play smarter than your opponent.

A week later Andrey received a text from his mother: “Forgive us. We realize we were wrong. Katya is a good wife, and we won’t interfere with your happiness anymore.”

“Do you think it’s sincere?” he asked, showing me the message.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But I’d like to believe it. In any case, now they know it’s better not to mess with me.”

And that was true. No one tried to destroy our marriage again. And I earned a reputation as a woman who can stand up for herself. Which, frankly, isn’t far from the truth.