Ludmila gave a dismissive snort and let out a dry, ugly laugh. She glanced at her son, looking for backup, and when he offered nothing but his usual blank compliance, she turned back to Alina.
Her face had settled into the expression of someone absolutely certain she was morally superior. She took one more heavy step toward the desk. “Oh, you need to finish, do you? Well, maybe Max and I can help you finish all this nonsense once and for all.”
“Help?” Alina said. “Are you planning to help me finish the backend for this app? Or start covering the mortgage and groceries starting tomorrow? Which did you mean?”
“Listen to me,” Ludmila said sharply. “Money is not the most important thing in life. Family is. A real woman puts her husband first. And naturally, she respects his mother.”
“You and your son have both been living off my income for over a year, Ludmila. So let’s skip the lecture and get to the point.”
But Ludmila had no intention of backing down. If anything, she seemed energized by the pushback. Her confidence fed on her son’s silence. His refusal to step in gave her all the permission she needed.
Alina sat very still, watching her. In her mind, everything unnecessary had already fallen away. Politeness. Family obligation. Social niceties. All of it had been shut down like background apps draining battery life. What remained was one simple instinct: defend her space, her work, and her peace of mind.
Right now, all of that lived inside the machine humming quietly on her desk.
“It’s time you remembered what women are actually meant for,” Ludmila said. “Or has this ridiculous office job become more important to you than your family? Than your husband?”
She stopped at the edge of the desk, looming over the keyboard. Her heavy floral perfume mixed with stale coffee and warm electronics.
“A real man should come home to a clean house, a hot meal, and a wife who looks like she’s glad to see him. Not this.”
She swept her arm dramatically around the room.
Alina ignored the performance and looked again at Max.
