With Zakhar, our meeting took place at a book presentation by an author.
We started talking then and soon delved into a discussion about literary works.

Zakhar left his phone number, and I shared mine. We continued communicating after that. Our interaction didn’t develop too fast, but that pace suited me.

A year after we met, Zakhar proposed that we enter into marriage. I agreed to become his wife and accepted the ring he gifted me.

When we submitted our marriage application at the registry office, Zakhar mentioned that he wished to introduce me to his relatives.

“On the weekend we can go to the dacha,” the fiancé proposed. “My parents will be there, as well as my two brothers with their families.” “Alright, let’s go,” I replied. “My vacation is just about to start.” I was nervous about meeting Zakhar’s family. On the way to the country settlement, the fiancé reassured me that everything would go well.

“Veronika, how glad I am to see you,” shouted Natalia Petrovna, Zakhar’s mother, as she ran to meet me. “Come inside the house. Boris and Petya, Zakhar’s brothers, have already gathered there. And Tamara and Zhanna, their wives, are busy in the kitchen.” I entered the house and greeted everyone, trying to remember who was who. We chatted for a bit, and then Natalia Petrovna told her sons that they needed to help their father. So Zakhar, along with his brothers, went out to the garden where Anatoly Vadimovich was working.

“Veronika, come to the kitchen,” the future mother-in-law said. “We’re preparing lunch for everyone there.” I didn’t object and went into the kitchen. I was assigned the task of slicing vegetables. Zhanna and Tamara were handling the meat, while Natalia Petrovna was cooking the soup.

Before I knew it, several hours had passed amid conversation. Then we began setting the table and called the men over.

As soon as Anatoly Vadimovich sat down at the table, he immediately started pointing out shortcomings.

“Why didn’t you bring any napkins?” he addressed his wife. “And there’s too little salad for such a large gathering.” Natalia Petrovna promptly rushed back to the kitchen and brought everything her husband had mentioned. After that, we sat down for lunch.

At the table, they questioned me about my job, my family. I calmly answered all their questions. Then I asked my own questions about what interested me. Everything sounded smooth at first, yet something was unsettling me.

When lunch was over, the future father-in-law, Zakhar, and his brothers left the table and went to watch football. I was surprised that no one helped clear the table. I voiced my concerns out loud.

Here’s a more unique version of the text using a synonymizer:

“In our family, traditional values exist,” explained Natalia Petrovna. “Men provide financial security, and women take care of household chores.” I did not like this at all. And before going to sleep, I told Zakhar what exactly about his parents’ home did not suit me. He did not find my arguments significant. And so we went to sleep without reaching any agreement.

At six in the morning, Zhanna woke me up. She announced that it was time to start preparing breakfast for everyone.

“Anatoly Vadimovich prefers to have breakfast early,” the young woman stated. I got up from the bed and began to help in the kitchen. And again, none of the men participated in preparing the food. And after breakfast, no one bothered to clear their own plate—not to mention washing it.

“And in the afternoon, the men will be sweating it out in the bathhouse,” said Natalia Petrovna. “And we need to heat it up while they’re out fishing.” I went to the bathhouse along with Tamara and Zhanna to prepare everything there. And during the process, I began to express my outrage. The girls supported me, but noted that nothing could be changed.

“This is how things have always been here,” Zhanna explained. “I would file for divorce,” said Tamara, “but we have a child and a mortgage. I couldn’t handle it myself.” When the men returned from fishing, I spoke with Zakhar once more. He declared that there was nothing wrong with traditions and that they should always be upheld. After that, my decision crystallized instantly.

When Zakhar went to the bathhouse with his brothers and father, I packed my things and left. I ran all the way to the bus stop, fearing that one of the husband’s relatives might chase after me.

Once I sat on the bus, I sent Zakhar a message saying that the wedding was cancelled. I explained that in his family it was customary to exploit women.

Zakhar read the message and began calling me. I didn’t answer immediately, but later decided to take the call. And I made it clear that my decision was final, that I was not going to change it.

It’s a good thing I realized it all before the wedding. Otherwise, I might have ended up like Zhanna and Tamara.