— I’m just waiting for everyone to come back. I want to raise a toast to Dad.
— What a considerate daughter you are! — mockery was audible in her mother-in-law’s voice. She was clearly enjoying the moment.
Oleg sat nearby, buried in his phone. Pretending it had nothing to do with him.
— Oleg, dear, — Tamara Nikolaevna called out. — Son, come here. Help your mother up, my legs have gone stiff.
Oleg reluctantly got up and went to his mother. She leaned on his arm and began to stand up. Slowly, with exaggerated groans. Marina seized the moment. One swift movement—and the glasses were swapped. Her glass was now in front of Oleg. His was in front of her. The glasses were absolutely identical. No one would notice.
— Oh, thank you, son. — Tamara Nikolaevna sat back down. — I feel like I’m falling apart today.
She glanced at the table. The glasses were in their places—from her point of view. Marina took her new glass and took a sip. Delicious juice, pure, without any additives.
— Mmm, so delicious! — she said, looking her mother-in-law in the eye. — Mom’s juice is the best.
Tamara Nikolaevna beamed.
— Drink up, drink up, dear, it’s good for you.
The guests started to return. They settled back into their seats, picked up their glasses. Oleg mechanically took his—the one now in front of him—and took a large gulp.
— Excellent juice, Mother-in-law, — he said. — You’re a magician.
— Thank you, Oleg. — Mom blushed with pleasure.
Tamara Nikolaevna watched Marina and waited. Waited for the action to begin.
Five minutes. Marina counted in her head. If it was a strong substance, the effect would be quick. In about five to ten minutes.
Her father raised his glass.
— Friends, thank you for coming. It means a lot to me. To you, to my loved ones, to my family.
— To you, Stepan! — the guests echoed.
Clinking glasses, laughter, congratulations. Marina smiled and nodded. But out of the corner of her eye, she watched her husband.
Three minutes passed. Oleg seemed fine. He was eating salad, talking to the neighbor, laughing at some joke. Five minutes passed. Marina noticed he had turned pale. He put down his fork, ran a hand over his forehead.
— It’s a bit hot, — he mumbled.
— Open another window, — Mom suggested.
— No, thank you, I… I’ll be right back.
He got up from the table and walked quickly towards the bathroom. Tamara Nikolaevna frowned. She looked at Marina—who was calmly eating her salad. Then at Oleg’s empty seat. Then back at Marina.
— What’s wrong with Oleg? — she asked.
— I don’t know, maybe the heat?
The sound of a slamming door came from the hallway. Then silence. A minute, two, three passed. Oleg didn’t come back. Tamara Nikolaevna shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
— I’ll go check, — she said and stood up.
Marina watched her go. The mother-in-law quickly walked into the hallway and disappeared around the corner. A moment later, her shriek was heard.
— Oleg! My son, what’s wrong with you?
The guests fell silent, exchanging glances.
— What happened? — her father asked.
Marina shrugged.
— I don’t know, maybe he’s not feeling well?
She stood up and went into the hallway. The others followed. Tamara Nikolaevna was standing by the bathroom door, knocking.
— Oleg, open up, what’s going on?
Distinctive sounds could be heard from behind the door.
— Mom, go away, — Oleg groaned. — I feel sick.
— What’s sick? Where is it sick? Open the door.
— I can’t. My stomach.
Tamara Nikolaevna turned white. She looked at Marina with wide eyes.
— You? — she whispered.
— Me what? — Marina asked calmly.
The mother-in-law opened her mouth but couldn’t utter a word. She understood. She understood what had happened.
— Should we call a doctor? — Mom suggested, coming up from behind. — Maybe it’s food poisoning?
— No! — Tamara Nikolaevna shouted. — No need for a doctor, it’s just… just an upset stomach. It happens.
— But if he’s that sick?
— It will pass. It will all pass. — She rushed to the bathroom door. — Oleg, my son, hang in there. It will be over soon.
— Mom… — Oleg’s voice was pitiful, almost childlike. — I feel really sick.
— I know, I know. Just hang in there.
Marina stood and watched the scene. She felt empty inside. No joy, no gloating. Just exhaustion. This was the moment of truth. This was the truth about the man she had married. Oleg knew. He knew about his mother’s plan and did nothing. He didn’t warn her, didn’t stop her. He let her slip a laxative into his wife’s juice. Eight years. For eight years she had tried to save this marriage. Endured humiliation, sought compromises, hoped for the best. And all this time, he had been on his mother’s side.
— Maybe the guests should have some tea for now? — her father suggested, appearing in the hallway. — It’s a bit awkward.
— Yes, yes, — Mom bustled. — Let’s go, I’ll cut the cake.
The guests returned to the room with relief. No one understood what was happening, but everyone felt uncomfortable. Marina stayed in the hallway. Tamara Nikolaevna did too. Guarding her son at the door.
— You did this? — the mother-in-law hissed when they were alone. — You switched the glasses.
— What glasses? — Marina asked innocently.
— Don’t pretend, I saw you.
— What did you see?
Tamara Nikolaevna choked with rage.
— You… You did it on purpose…
— On purpose what? Slipped a laxative to my own husband? Why would I do that?
The mother-in-law opened her mouth and closed it. She was caught in her own trap. If she told the truth, she would admit to trying to poison her daughter-in-law. If she stayed silent, it would look like Oleg just got sick on his own.
— Exactly, — Marina smiled. — I have no idea what happened to Oleg. He probably ate something that wasn’t fresh.
— You’ll pay for this, — Tamara Nikolaevna seethed. — I won’t forgive you for this.
— Are you threatening me?
— I’m warning you.
Marina walked right up to her mother-in-law. So close she could see every wrinkle on her well-kept face.
— Tamara Nikolaevna, — she said quietly but firmly. — For eight years, I’ve put up with your antics. For eight years, I’ve tried to find common ground with you. But everything has a limit.
— What are you talking about?
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