Marina watched her son trying on a new suit. Tall, well-built, dark-haired—tomorrow her boy was getting married, and it was hard to believe. Ilya carefully studied his reflection in the mirror. He turned around, nodded in satisfaction, noting that the suit fit perfectly. “Fashionable outfit,” the young man turned to his mother. “And the color is good, it looks expensive.”

“It is expensive,” thought Marina, but aloud she said: “I’m glad you like it. I’ll definitely shed a tear at the wedding as soon as I see you in full dress.”

Ilya finally turned away from the mirror: “Mom, are you going to the wedding or what? We agreed that you wouldn’t be there.”

“We agreed, son? I thought you were joking.”

“What jokes?” The son nervously paced the room. “Did you forget what Vika’s parents are like? The wedding will be full of elites. You’ll feel like a poor relative there. I’ll start worrying about you. Mom, do you want to ruin such an important day for me?”

The son sat down next to Marina on the couch, took her hand, and gently squeezed it: “Mommy, just imagine how out of place you’ll look among those dolled-up ladies. My heart would break from such humiliation. And think about how you’ll feel. We’ll come the day after, okay? Have some tea or champagne. You can congratulate us, give us your gift.”

Marina’s heart clenched with hurt. Her own son was ashamed of her to such an extent that he was prepared to appear at his own wedding like an orphan without kin. “Why would I look out of place?” the mother retorted. “I have an appointment with a good hairdresser, I’ll get my nails done. I’ll wear a decent dress.”

“What decent dress? That blue old thing!” Ilya snapped and paced the room again.

“So that’s it.” He stood in front of his mother. “If you don’t understand the nice way, I’ll tell you straight. I don’t want to see you at the wedding. I may be… but I’m ashamed that my mother is a cleaner. I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of Vika’s relatives. Is that clear?”

Marina was shocked by her son’s confession and could not utter a word. Ilya silently took his backpack, proudly flaunted his suit, and headed for the exit. At the threshold, he stopped: “I’ll say it again, don’t come to the ceremony. No one there will be glad to see you.”

Ilya had left a few hours ago. Twilight had set in, and Marina just sat on the couch in complete stupor. She was so shocked that she couldn’t even cry. Tears came a bit later when the woman turned on the light and pulled an old album with family photos from the dresser. This album contained her entire unembellished life. Memories crashed down on Marina with such force that it was hard to breathe. An old worn photo. There she was, a two-year-old girl with blue eyes, gazing intently into the lens. Her colorful dress clearly second-hand. Beside her, a thin, strange woman with a vacant look and a foolish smile. Even in the poor photo, it was evident that the woman was in high spirits.
Marina was two and a half when her mother lost parental rights and disappeared from her daughter’s life forever. As she grew older, the girl never tried to find her wayward mother. Why bother?

A group photo. Ten-year-old Marina with rebellious golden curls stands in the second row, third from the left. Life in the orphanage was no picnic.

The institution where Marina was raised resembled the troubled shelters from documentary films about the nineties. Cooks were caught stealing food, educators didn’t mince words, and the director turned a blind eye to bullying, uninterested in the methods older children used to maintain discipline.

Three attractive girls in waitress uniforms flirtatiously posed for a photographer on the porch of a building with a crooked sign. After school, Marina didn’t think too much about choosing a profession and quickly got a job as a waitress at a roadside café called “By the Road.” The salary was small, but the tips generously left by customers compensated for this.

Twelve-hour shifts were exhausting, but Marina did not despair. She liked her independent life. Her room in a shared apartment was spacious and bright, and the neighbors, an elderly couple, turned out to be friendly. She had enough money, although not much, and unexpectedly discovered a talent in herself. It turned out that she knew how to dress stylishly on a dime. By buying clothes from second-hands, she remade and altered them into fashionable items. In a summer meadow in the forest, a happy and laughing Marina sat on the grass with a crown of flowers, embraced by a handsome dark-haired guy wearing a similar crown. Many years have passed, but Marina’s heart still skips a beat at the sight of this photo.

She had been working at the café for about a year when she met Maxim. That summer morning, the café was unexpectedly crowded. Marina rushed around the room with a tray, serving impatient customers, and suddenly tripped, spilling tomato juice on a guy by the window. A bright red stain spread across his light shirt. Marina was lost for words, realizing that the shirt was expensive. Before she could recover, Stas, the café administrator, rushed to the table and began fussing, threatening her with dismissal.

“Why worry so much?” the guy smiled, handing Marina the keys to his car. “Don’t worry, I’m going to my parents’ country house. There’s a clean shirt in the car. Could you bring the backpack from the back seat?”

“I’ll bring it, Maxim Nikolaevich,” Stas offered helpfully, snatching the keys. “Otherwise, this chicken might break something in your car too.”

Left alone with the client, Marina finally managed to apologize: “Please forgive me, this is the first time this has happened. I swear, I will compensate you for the damage.”

Maxim replied. “It’s nothing serious.”

Maxim extended his hand. She responded with a handshake and then dared to look at him for the first time.

Stas brought him the backpack and escorted him in order to a back room to change. When he passed by Marina, Stas remarked sarcastically:

“What are you waiting for? Has your shift ended?”

While she was just taking payment from a loving couple, she heard a cheerful voice behind her: “Marina, could you spare me a minute of your attention?”

Maxim, in a fresh blue shirt, was sitting at the same table. “Will you take my order?”

“Of course.”

Serving the attractive visitor, the girl felt awkward. Stas personally escorted the guy to the door, then winked at Marina, “Don’t be upset, I purposely snapped at you, otherwise he might have made you pay for the shirt. It costs more than your salary.”

“How do you know this guy?”

“That’s Max Skvortsov, the mayor’s son. Everyone in town knows him.”

By that evening, Marina was so exhausted from the day’s hustle that she had forgotten about the morning incident. She only desired to get home and collapse into bed.

It was already dark outside. Suddenly, a light foreign car pulled up to the café. On closer inspection, Marina recognized the car. What was the mayor’s son doing here?

Maxim jumped out of the car and headed straight for Marina. He approached and handed her the flowers: “Have you finished work? Sorry, I didn’t know what kind you like, so I chose white roses. But I promise that from now on, I’ll only give you your favorites.”

Marina was completely bewildered.

“I’m actually courting you. Besides, the evening is so lovely, maybe we could go somewhere?”, Max said, laughing.

Everything that was happening seemed like a magical dream. Marina realized that she was ready to go anywhere with him. Yet she quickly came back to reality. She remembered she was dressed in old jeans and a simple t-shirt.

“Thank you, but I’m tired, I can’t today”, Marina said regretfully.

“Then tomorrow?” Max was persistent.

The next day they met, never to part again. It was love at first sight. Maxim was an economics student. He had successfully passed his summer exams, and they started seeing each other every day.

Max introduced Marina to his university friends. Together, they often went swimming and barbecued in the wilderness. It was the brightest, most carefree, and unforgettable time of Marina’s life. She never experienced such happiness again.

Marina and Maxim had already started planning their wedding, but all their dreams about the future collapsed. Maxim’s cousin saw him on the street with some ragamuffin and reported it to daddy-the-mayor. Marina’s life turned into a nightmare.

The Skvortsov family disapproved of their relationship. It was understandable. The only son and a girl from an orphanage. Maxim’s mother called hundreds of times a day, demanding that Marina leave him. Maxim’s cousin came to the cafe and caused a terrible scandal.

Then, neighbors also reported that some people had been asking about Marina for an hour.

“Recently one lady”, confirmed Yakov Ivanovich, a neighbor in the apartment, “offered us good money if we confirmed that you were a drug addict and a prostitute. I threw her out.”

Marina told nothing to her fiancé. She knew that his opportunity for an overseas student exchange was being decided at that moment. Apparently, he was also under pressure, because a worry settled in his eyes. Sometimes he would look tensely at his beloved’s face, but, seeing her gentle smile, he would sigh with relief.

Two weeks before Maxim’s departure, Marina received a phone call.

“This is Nikolai Borisovich, Maxim’s father. You must break up with my son before he leaves. Tell him you have another man. If you ignore my words, you will bitterly regret it.”

The mayor hung up. Marina was ready to give her life for Maxim, how could she possibly give up the man she loved so deeply?

When her beloved flew to London, events began to unfold around Marina that she still remembers as a bad dream. Stas, bribed by the city’s mayor, suddenly accused the waitress of a major shortage, and the girl was arrested.

Marina was in sh0ck by her boss’s vile act. As the case quickly went to court, she had no doubt that the truth would soon come out and these horrible charges would be dismissed.

The trial was like a farce. The lawyer provided by the state barely stayed awake during the proceedings. In contrast, the prosecutor tried his hardest. Every day, Marina hoped that Maxim would appear and save her, but a friend informed her that, according to rumors, the boy was planning to continue his studies in England.

Marina was sentenced to three years. It was only in prison that she learned she was expecting a child.

Marina tried not to think about the time she spent in women’s prison—it was too painful. Overwhelmed by emotions, she quickly turned the page of the family album. The photo showed her dark-haired, gray-eyed little boy. Marina tenderly ran her finger over the image. Her son was so affectionate and clever. Only God knows what it cost her to raise him alone.

After serving a year and a half, Marina was released. Her child had not been taken away. Outside, a myriad of problems awaited her. No one wanted to hire a young woman with a small child, especially one with a criminal record.

Her neighbor Yakov Ivanovich helped get little Ilyushka into daycare, Marina was able to work tirelessly. She worked as a cleaner in a restaurant, cleaned offices in the evenings, worked at a car wash on weekends, and sewed pillowcases and duvet covers at night.

She didn’t look back at the past—why suffer unnecessarily? Once she accidentally met a former friend who told her that the roadside café owner, Stas, had gone bankrupt, Mayor Skvortsov had moved to Moscow with his family after receiving a promotion, and his son had married a beauty from the capital a year ago.

Marina wiped away her tears and went to clean floors at the restaurant. She needed to raise her son.

She always tried to please him with tasty food, expensive toys, fashionable clothes. She was ready to do anything to fulfill all his wishes, as much as possible. If Ilya needed a new gadget, he calmly talked to his mother about it, knowing she would find the necessary amount, or at worst, take on extra work.

Certainly, in that Ilya had grown into such an insensitive egoist, she was to blame too. She never complained to him about being tired, never took sick leave, always gave him the tastiest pieces at dinner. No wonder her son never once considered the price his mother paid for the money. And now he was ashamed of her and didn’t want her, a cleaner, to attend his wedding.

«I understand,» Marina sighed bitterly, then turned to Ilya’s portrait on the wall. «Son, I’ve indulged you for 25 years, but this time I’ll do as I see fit. Forgive me.»

She got out of bed and pulled out a box from the nightstand, where she traditionally kept her savings. Plus, her monthly salary was on the card—enough for an outfit, hairstyle, and a visit to the beautician.

Marina’s appearance at the registry office caused a real stir.

She always looked younger than her years, but after visiting the beauty salon, she seemed to have shed a decade. The guests, especially the men, sneakily glanced at the blonde woman in an exquisite blue dress. During the ceremony, the mother, wiping away tears, admired her serious, slightly bewildered son and his charming bride. It was good that she had come here. After the ceremony, all the guests congratulated the newlyweds. Ilya stealthily made his way through the crowd to his mother and whispered:

«So my request means nothing to you? I hope you’re not going to the restaurant?»

«I won’t,» Marina nodded. «I’ve already seen everything I wanted.»

«Hello!» a flushed Vika rushed up to them. «Marina Anatolyevna, you look stunning! The parents invite you to go to the restaurant with them.»

«Thank you, but it’s time for me to leave.»

«What do you mean, time?» Vika was indignant. «Ilya, what’s happening?»

«Really, Mom, where are you rushing to? It’s your only son’s wedding,» Ilya invited his mother to the restaurant with a forced smile.

When it was time for parents to congratulate the young couple, Marina took the microphone:

«Children, be happy, love each other for a lifetime…»

As she descended from the small stage, the woman nearly bumped into a tall man in an expensive suit.

«It can’t be,» said Maxim, blocking her path. «Marishka, is it really you? What are you doing here?»

«Maxim?» Marina couldn’t believe her eyes.

«The bride’s father is my business partner, he invited me to the wedding. What a handsome son you have.» Maxim, nervously, took Marina’s hand. «Maybe we could step aside, talk by the window? Are you here alone, without a husband? I’ve been divorced for 10 years now, and I don’t have any children.»

They talked for an hour. Maxim told how his father, having flown to him abroad, informed him that Marina had met another guy and moved to Moscow with him. Shocked, Max didn’t believe his father but, fearing to humiliate his beloved with suspicions, decided to first find out the truth from his best friend. The friend went to the roadside café but didn’t find the girl there. The owner and waitresses unanimously confirmed the information received from the father.

«I nearly went mad with grief then, stayed in England for another six months, then returned to Moscow. My dad got promoted, then I got married. Was I happy all these years? Not a minute. Only in my youth with you. But how have you been living all this time?»

«Let’s not talk about sad things,» Marina suggested. «It’s a wedding, after all. I’ll tell you everything later, but now invite me to dance.»

Guests couldn’t take their eyes off the beautiful couple. Ilya watched his mother and didn’t recognize her. He suddenly thought that his mom was a very attractive woman who had given up her personal life for him. For the first time in his life, Ilya felt truly ashamed. Then he noticed that his mother, arm-in-arm with some wealthy man, was heading towards the exit, and caught up with her on the porch.

«Mom, where are you going?»

«I’m leaving. That’s what you wanted,» the mother reminded.

«Mom, I’m sorry, but where are you going with this man?»

«I’m ready to go with him to the ends of the earth,» Marina sincerely confessed. «By the way, meet your father, Maxim.»

Ilya looked bewildered at Marina. She paused and added with a smile:

«Yes, it looks like we have a very long conversation ahead. But not today. Today is a wedding!»

My MIL Gave Me Shoes for My Birthday – I Was Shocked When I Lifted the Insole

Jess is suspicious when her icy MIL gifts her expensive shoes for her birthday. Her worst fears come true when she wears them on a business trip, and the TSA discovers something suspicious hidden inside. Now, she must unravel if this gift was an attempt at sabotage or something even darker.

I should have known better than to trust a gift from Debbie. On looking back now, the warning signs were all there — the too-sweet smile when she handed me the box, the way her eyes glinted with something that wasn’t quite kindness.

A woman with a surprised look on her face | Source: Midjourney

But what was I supposed to do? They were just shoes, right? Beautiful patent leather yellow shoes with a wide heel, exactly my style. And for once, my mother-in-law seemed to be making an effort.

“Oh, they’re lovely,” I’d said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice while Arthur beamed beside me. “Thank you, Debbie.”

She’d waved her hand dismissively. “Well, I noticed you always wear such… practical shoes. I thought you might want something nice for once.”

A woman speaking | Source: Midjourney

The barb was there, wrapped in silk, just like always. But I’d smiled and nodded, just like always. That’s what you do when you’re trying to keep the peace, right? When your husband loves his mother, and you’re trying to be the bigger person?

Besides, it wasn’t the first time she’d taken little jabs at me.

There was the Christmas dinner where she’d pointedly asked Arthur if he remembered how his ex-girlfriend Sarah made “the most divine turkey.”

A roast turkey | Source: Midjourney

Or when she’d shown up unannounced on our anniversary with old photo albums full of Arthur’s childhood pictures and stayed for three hours.

Every visit was an exercise in diplomatic relations, with me playing the role of ambassador to a hostile nation.

“She’s just set in her ways,” Arthur would say after particularly tense encounters. “Give her time.” But we’d been married for over a year now, and if anything, her behavior had gotten worse, not better.

A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t wear the shoes for a week. They sat in their box, pristine and accusing, until my business trip to Chicago came up. Arthur lounged on our bed, scrolling through his phone as I packed my suitcase.

“You should wear Mom’s shoes,” he suggested. “Show her you appreciate them.”

I ran my finger along the smooth leather. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

“I think she’s trying, you know,” he added, looking up from his screen. “That this is her way of extending an olive branch.”

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

If only I’d listened to my gut instead of his optimism.

The first hint of trouble came at the airport. Something felt off. Like there was something in my left shoe, but when I took it off to check, there was nothing there. Just pristine leather and that new-shoe smell.

“Everything okay?” The businessman behind me in the security line looked impatient, checking his watch for the third time in a minute.

A business man in an airport | Source: Midjourney

“Fine,” I muttered, slipping the shoe back on. “Just breaking in new shoes.”

But it wasn’t fine. With each step toward security, the sensation grew worse — a persistent pressure against the ball of my foot, as if something was trying to push its way out.

By the time I reached the conveyor belt, I was practically limping. It was a relief when the TSA officer asked me to remove my shoes and put them on the belt.

An airport security officer | Source: Midjourney

The TSA officer’s face told me everything before he even opened his mouth.

He’d been scanning items with the practiced boredom of someone who’d seen it all, but something made him sit up straight, eyes narrowing at his screen.

“Ma’am, step aside, please.”

My stomach dropped. “Is there a problem?”

A worried woman in an airport | Source: Midjourney

He pointed to the X-ray screen, where something dark and dense lurked in the outline of my left shoe. “We need to examine this more closely. Please remove the insole.”

The businessman who’d been behind me in line shot me a suspicious look as he retrieved his laptop. A mother pulled her young daughter closer as they passed.

My cheeks burned as I sat down and worked at the insole with trembling fingers.

“Need some help?” A female officer had appeared, snapping on blue latex gloves.

A woman putting on blue latex gloves | Source: Pexels

“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered. “These were a gift from my mother-in-law. I just wore them for the first time today.”

The insole finally peeled back with a soft ripping sound. There, nestled in a cavity that had been carefully carved into the sole, was a small package wrapped in plastic. Green-brown contents showed through the clear wrapping.

The original officer’s expression hardened. “Can you explain this?”

A stern airport security officer | Source: Midjourney

“Those aren’t my shoes. I mean, they are, but they were a gift. I didn’t know—” My voice cracked. “Please, I have no idea what that is. I’m supposed to be giving a presentation in Chicago tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll need to test the contents,” he cut me off. “Please wait here.”

Twenty minutes felt like 20 years. I sat on a hard plastic chair, watching other travelers stream past, imagining headlines: “Marketing Executive Caught Smuggling Drugs.”

AN anxious woman | Source: Midjourney

I thought about calling Arthur but couldn’t bear explaining this over the phone. What would he think? What would he say to Debbie?

The senior officer who finally arrived to speak to me had kind eyes above his stern mouth. “The preliminary tests show no controlled substances in this package,” he said. “But we can’t allow you to take it on your flight, just in case. You understand this could have been a serious situation?”

“Yes, sir.” I fought back tears of relief. “I’m so sorry for the trouble.”

A relieved woman speaking to an airport security officer | Source: Midjourney

“Be more careful about what you carry through security,” he warned as he released me.

I stared at the package the TSA officer placed into my palm. Part of me wanted to throw it away, but I hurriedly tossed it into one of the airport lockers before jogging to catch my flight.

I barely made it and spent the entire trip to Chicago with my mind racing. Why would Debbie do this? What was she trying to accomplish?

Each possibility I considered seemed more outlandish than the last, but they all pointed to one unavoidable conclusion: my mother-in-law had deliberately set me up.

A woman staring thoughtfully out a plane window | Source: Midjourney

I took the bag to a lab for testing immediately after I returned home. When the results came back, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I stared at the report, my coffee growing cold beside me. Mugwort. Yarrow. St. John’s Wort. According to my frantic Google searches, these herbs were used in folk magic. They were used for spells meant to drive people away, sever connections, or “protect” someone from unwanted influences.

Debbie had tried to use magic to get rid of me.

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

That evening, I waited until Arthur and I had finished dinner. He was loading the dishwasher, humming under his breath, when I finally worked up the courage.

“We need to talk about your mother,” I said.

He turned, dish soap bubbles clinging to his hands. “What’s wrong?”

I told him everything about the airport, the herbs, and what I’d discovered about their supposed magical properties.

A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

His face grew darker with each word, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenched it.

“She’s never wanted me in your life. This proves it. I was almost arrested because of this stunt, Arthur. All because she can’t accept that you chose me.”

Arthur dried his hands slowly, methodically, like he needed the simple task to ground himself.

“I knew she was having trouble accepting you, but this…” He shook his head. “This is something else entirely. It’s on a whole other level, and it’s unforgivable.”

A man staring at his wife | Source: Midjourney

“What are we going to do?”

He looked at me, and I saw the pain in his eyes. But there was also determination. “I’m going to call her right now. And then I’m going to tell her that until she can admit what she did and genuinely apologize to you, she’s not welcome in our home.”

“Arthur, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.” He took my hand, his grip firm and sure.

A man reassuring his wife | Source: Midjourney

“She crossed a line, Jess. She tried to hurt you and made you look like a criminal. I love my mother, but I won’t let her destroy my marriage. You’re my family too, and it’s time she understood that.”

I leaned into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. The shoes sat in our closet, a reminder that sometimes the most dangerous gifts come wrapped in the prettiest packages.

As Arthur reached for his phone, I knew we’d weather this storm together and be stronger for facing it head-on.

A resolute woman | Source: Midjourney

Maybe that’s what really drives Debbie crazy: knowing that every attempt to separate us only brings us closer together.

Maybe someday she’ll realize there’s enough room in Arthur’s heart for both of us. Until then, we’ll keep our distance, and I’ll be more careful about accepting gifts.

Here’s another story: At Amanda’s wedding, simmering tensions with her disapproving mother reach a breaking point when a cruel “gift” pushes Amanda to her limit. Faced with an unforgivable moment of betrayal, she must decide whether to stand up for her fiancé or risk losing everything.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.