Lena rushed out of the building, throwing an anxious glance at her watch.
— God, I’m late!
She hurried toward the metro.
— The last thing I need is to be late for dinner with Pasha’s parents!
Recently, she and Pavel had made an important decision—to get married.
But they hadn’t reached the wedding yet.
Lena was ready to simply live together, but Pasha wanted an official union.
He didn’t want to hide his feelings and believed he had every right to choose his partner himself.
— Maybe I shouldn’t meet them? What if your parents don’t accept me?
— You think they’d approve of anyone I choose?
— Most likely, only someone who fits their taste. But that’s their problem, not mine.
— Dad understands me anyway.
— If a conflict arises, I’ll just leave.
— I don’t need their money—I can earn my own.
— I don’t want to be the cause of a family rift.
Pavel hugged her.
— You won’t be. The main issue is their pride.
— Sometimes it feels like they’re stuck in the past century.
— And not just them—the more money someone has, the stranger the people around them.
— They think I belong to them like an object.
They had met by chance—at a school sports competition, just there to support their respective schools.
Lena was cheering for her school’s team, Pasha—for the prep school.
At first, they had even argued out of excitement, but quickly became friends.
Lena grew up in a humble family, where buying a cake was a big event.
For Pavel, things were different: a private chef, expensive gifts, constant social events.
Her childhood wasn’t easy—she’d learned to stand up for herself among a rough neighborhood crowd.
She dreamed of Paris, while Pasha was already sick of it—his parents took him there constantly on vacation.
But from the first days of their acquaintance, they felt a strong attraction.
They carefully got to know each other, not revealing everything at once, but the pull between them was undeniable.
After six months, Pasha proposed:
— I can’t wake up without you anymore. I want you by my side always.
— What about your parents?
— They’ll get used to it. They won’t kick you out for sure.
— I’m not so sure…
— You’ll be my wife. I’m proud of you, and I’m not going to hide that.
Until today, Lena believed that as long as Pasha was with her, his parents wouldn’t be a threat.
But the closer the meeting came, the more anxious she felt.
They were supposed to meet at a restaurant, and Pasha said it was just an introduction.
But Lena knew: they would judge her, scrutinize her every word and gesture.
After dashing home, she glanced at the clock—an hour and a half left, but she had to cross the whole city.
With one hand she applied mascara, with the other she tried to zip her dress.
Everything was going wrong: mascara got in her eye, tears flowed, and the zipper ripped loudly.
Lena stopped and took a deep breath.
— Whatever happens, happens.
She washed up, took off the dress, and put on a light-colored sweater.
After all, no one demanded an evening gown from her, and she still looked presentable.
Just as the train doors were about to close, Lena managed to slip inside and sighed in relief.
— Let the race begin!
She glanced at her reflection in the window—everything seemed okay.
About twenty minutes remained, enough to relax a bit.
She settled in and began thinking about what lay ahead.
Her mood was uncertain.
Maybe Pavel had exaggerated about his parents.
Maybe his mom was just strict, not the monster he’d described.
Lena smiled. It would be great if everything went smoothly.
After all, starting family life with conflict is far from ideal.
Just then, loud voices caught her attention.
Three guys had entered the car and surrounded an elderly man.
— Hey old man, hand over your money!
— Come on, hurry up, gramps!
The man shook his head.
— All I’ve got is fare money. I don’t carry much—too many like you around.
Lena raised an eyebrow. The old man clearly wasn’t afraid.
Brave, though silence might’ve been wiser—it could’ve ended without incident.
One of the guys shoved the old man, and he began to fall.
Lena rushed forward and caught him.
Then she turned to the punks:
— Aren’t you ashamed? He’s elderly!
The guys hesitated, then burst out laughing.
Lena knew one rule: “If there’s no peaceful way out—strike first.”
There was no trace of reason in these boys’ eyes—only raw instinct.
The first one, a redhead, stepped toward her, but Lena struck him in the nose with the edge of her palm.
He howled and collapsed.
The second one took a bit longer, but within a minute, he was down too.
The third hesitated, and Lena snapped:
— Come on, I’m getting off soon anyway!
The guy bolted into the next car.
Lena turned to the old man, who looked at her in awe.
— If I were fifty years younger, I’d propose to you right now!
Lena laughed. There it is again! Why do men think a compliment must hint at marriage?
“Thanks” would’ve been enough.
— I really have to go now.
They got off at the same station, and the old man watched her walk away.
Pavel checked his watch and glanced at his mother.
— Yeah, I agree, she could’ve arrived a little earlier.
— It’s not just a dinner—it’s meeting the parents.
He looked at his father, who merely smirked and averted his gaze so his wife wouldn’t see.
When Lena finally entered the room, Pavel instinctively moved toward her, but his parents beat him to it.
His mother hissed quietly but harshly:
— Didn’t even bother to wear an evening dress. Not even a rented one.
His father gave Lena a good look.
— Quite a lovely girl. And the best part—she’s not pretending to be someone special, like most girls hanging around our son. Outfit’s fine, to be honest.
To his wife, he calmly said:
— Maybe she just didn’t want to outshine you.
Formalities were dealt with quickly, and everyone sat at the table.
Inna Igorevna watched the waiter set the table with a strained smile.
In front of Lena—just one fork and spoon. In front of everyone else—a full array of cutlery.
Lena felt her cheeks burn.
Pavel finally noticed and snapped at his mother:
— Mom, why just one set?
He had expected anything but this blatant humiliation.
— Just wanted to make it easier for her. In her circles, they probably eat everything with one fork—let her feel comfortable.
Lena had never experienced anything like this.
She wanted to get up and leave, but didn’t know how it would affect her relationship with Pavel.
She didn’t want to lose him.
She sat silently, looking at him: Would the man who called her “his love” defend her?
— Is something wrong? Pavel pretended nothing had happened.
Got it.
Lena looked around the table again, forced a smile, and began to stand up.
Inna Igorevna immediately spoke up:
— Leaving already, dear? Not even trying the tea?
Lena shook her head no—and then heard a familiar voice that made her turn in surprise:
— Too bad you can’t respond now like you did on the train.
— My dear, if my grandson lacks the courage, know this: I’m ready to offer you my hand and heart—become my wife, and you’ll be Pasha’s grandmother right away.
Lena raised her eyebrows. It was the old man from the train, walking up to their table.
— You?!
— Yes, yes. Don’t mind my daughter-in-law. Not long ago, she ate with the same spoon she carried in her purse.
The old man laughed. Inna Igorevna glared daggers at her husband, while Pavel’s father stood and hugged the old man.
— Hey, Dad. Another adventure on the way?
The man sat next to Lena and gently took her hand, inviting her to stay.
— Darling, sit. I promise, no one will hurt you—at least while my grandson figures out how to speak without offending anyone.
— I’ll be your protector.
Inna Igorevna scoffed. She had hoped her father-in-law wouldn’t show up tonight.
Despite being a millionaire, he preferred the subway, buses, or simply walking.
He still controlled the business himself, saying he’d have handed it over long ago if he didn’t fear his daughter-in-law would take over everything.
The old man told everyone how Lena stood up for him, took down three guys.
Now that’s a woman! A real goddess!
Inna Igorevna pursed her lips.
In her view, that kind of behavior was totally inappropriate for a lady—especially a future daughter-in-law.
Pavel’s father sincerely thanked Lena, while Pasha whispered:
— What else don’t I know about you?
Lena looked at him calmly:
— What don’t I know about you? — she nodded toward the utensils — Did you know about this?
— Of course not! You think I’d allow it?
She looked away. It didn’t matter anymore—whether he knew or not.
He had already let his mother insult her without consequences.
Why was she even here? Maybe she was just waiting for a reason to break up.
What else would Pasha fail at?
The first course was served. Inna Igorevna looked at her plate and the waiter in irritation.
— This is definitely not what I ordered.
She discreetly watched Lena handle the utensils with ease—and began choosing her own fork.
— God, I always get confused with seafood forks.
Grandpa laughed again:
— See, Inna? Don’t judge others if you’re not confident yourself.
With a loud clang, her knife dropped onto the table. Inna Igorevna abruptly stood up and left.
Her husband didn’t move—that was just how things worked in their family.
Well, almost. Pasha got up to follow his mother, but Grandpa stopped him:
— Leave her. She needs to cool off or it’ll get worse.
Fifteen minutes later, Inna returned and sat down, her husband subtly pulling out her chair.
She raised a glass of champagne and downed it in one gulp under surprised looks.
And then she smiled.
— I couldn’t just hand over my only son to some airhead, she said.
Now Lena understood: to them, Pavel was an object to be passed from hand to hand.
His words about love and free choice—just a pretty fairy tale.
Pasha said nothing.
Not one word from his mother fazed him.
Grandpa laughed:
— So where are we celebrating the wedding? I’m almost a hundred—every day might be my last. We need to hurry!
Lena watched as the family discussed wedding plans.
Pavel leaned toward her:
— They’ve accepted you. Want to run away?
Now it was clear: her Pasha was just a mama’s boy, used to obeying.
Maybe he even considered himself his mother’s property—now “transferred” to her.
But maybe that was better? A passive husband under her control was more useful than a dominant one.
Why have a middleman between her and the family business?
Grandpa clearly wanted to teach her everything she’d need.
He didn’t love Inna, and his son even less—a man easily led.
Things weren’t turning out so bad.
And if not—she could always walk away.
Lena smiled and nodded:
— Let’s run away.
The parents didn’t even notice them leaving.
Only Grandpa, pleased, followed them with his eyes.
