Family treats her like she's beneath us – what do I do?

My girl, Masha, moved here from a tiny village near Perm. City folk here act like they’re better, and my mother? She makes no effort to hide it. Sanya, my brother, calls her "country mouse" to her face, laughs like it’s funny. At dinner last week, Masha brings this pie her babushka taught her – real labor, you know? – and Mom says, "We don’t need homemade, we have money for bakery." Just drops it like stone in water. Masha smiles, nods, but I see her eyes. She excuses herself. I go after, she says she’s fine, but her voice… weak, like when you know someone’s breaking but won’t admit it. I told Mom to cut it out. She says, "This is how we protect our bloodline." Bloodline? We’re not royalty, we’re just people. My father sits quiet, always does. But I feel it – the coldness when she visits. Is normal to expect my girl to just take it because she’s not from here? I love her. But I’m starting to wonder if love’s enough when your own family acts like she’s dirt. I don’t want to choose, but it’s tearing me apart.