“So, how much did you get today?” That was my mother-in-law’s greeting as soon as she crossed the threshold of our apartment.
Viktoria Leonidovna hadn’t even managed to take her scarf off, but her sharp eyes were already scanning me suspiciously, as if I’d just robbed a bank and was hiding stacks of cash in my cheeks. It’s Friday evening—my payday and the long-awaited quarterly bonus.
“Good evening to you too, Viktoria Leonidovna,” I replied calmly, taking her wet umbrella from her hands. “I got just enough to cover my own plans. If I were you, though, I’d start looking after my own finances. It’s pouring outside—and you’re saving on a taxi, walking all the way from the bus stop.”
She scoffed with indignation, kicking off her boots right onto my brand new beige mat, even though a special shoe rack sat nearby. She always did things like this: staking her claim with little acts of disorder, showing that in her son’s home, she was no guest but a rightful mistress.
“Oh, Natasha, don’t start with your… intellectual nonsense!” she waved me off as she fixed her hair in the mirror, flicking raindrops onto the wallpaper. “It’s not about the taxi—with everything that’s going on? I’m the mother, I need to keep a finger on the pulse and know what’s going on financially with the family. Especially now—there’s an emergency. A real crisis!”
I sighed inwardly and hung her coat on a hanger. In Viktoria Leonidovna’s dictionary, a “family crisis” always meant one thing: her younger daughter Lidochka was once again struggling to afford her lavish lifestyle, and Mom had come to “redistribute” the wealth from the “rich relatives.”
“Come into the kitchen and wash your hands first,” I said, turning down the hallway. “I’ve just finished making dinner.”
The meat pie was finishing up in the oven. The pastry was thin and crisp along the edges, filled generously with juicy beef and potatoes, and that incredible, cozy aroma of fresh rosemary and garlic had already filled the apartment. I loved cooking on Fridays. It was my ritual, my way of decompressing after a tough week as deputy chief accountant at a large company.
My mother-in-law settled herself at the table as if she owned the place, pushing the napkin holder away as if it bothered her, sliding the fruit bowl aside, and folding her hands together. She looked determined and stern.
“Here’s the deal,” she declared, in a tone like the chairwoman of a union committee handing out resort vouchers. “Lidochka’s washing machine broke down. And the fridge—it’s humming like a tractor, any minute now it’ll short out the wiring. And they have kids! Can you imagine—two kids and no washing machine? They desperately need new appliances.”
“Fascinating,” I said, taking out two cups and saucers from the cabinet. “Would you like some tea? Black, green? I also have thyme—it’s very soothing.”
“Natasha, are you even listening to me?” Victoria Leonidovna raised her voice, completely ignoring my question about tea. “The kids have nothing to wash their clothes in! They’re going through a really tough time right now. I already checked online. Everything has become more expensive these days. A decent washing machine with a dryer costs around eighty thousand. And they need a proper fridge, one that’s big enough to store some supplies—that’s another eighty-five thousand. So, we’re talking a total of one hundred sixty-five thousand!”
I silently placed the mug in front of her and poured the tea leaves.
“I’ve decided we all need to chip in,” my mother-in-law said firmly, scooting closer to the table. “Family should help each other in hard times. I’ll give fifteen thousand from my pension. I can’t do more, you know that. The rest you and Roma can cover. You have money—it won’t make a dent for you.”
She paused, clearly expecting me to rush off for my wallet, but I just calmly stirred my tea with a small spoon.
“You did get your bonus today, didn’t you?” Victoria Leonidovna narrowed her eyes, pulling out her trump card. “I know for sure. Lida and I have a friend in your accounting department—Svetochka. She tipped us off that you got your quarterly bonus today. And it was a hefty amount. So, it’s absolutely no burden for you. You won’t even notice the money’s gone! You and Roma live for yourselves—never denying yourselves anything.”
I slowly placed the teapot on its wooden stand. That unpleasant feeling crawled up inside me, the kind you get when someone goes through your bag without asking, counting your money and already deciding how you’ll spend it. So, they’d already added everything up—and even recruited ‘Svetochka from accounting’ as a spy. How lovely.
“As the writer once said, Victoria Leonidovna, another person’s soul is unfathomable,” I said, taking a seat across from her and meeting her gaze with an icy calm. “And someone else’s wallet is even more off-limits—like a high-voltage area surrounded by barbed wire. I am not contributing to anything.”
For a split second my mother-in-law was stunned, then her face turned blotchy and red with anger.
“What do you mean, you won’t?!” she exhaled loudly, clutching her hand to her chest. “You’re family! Roma makes good money, and with your bonuses you’re practically swimming in gold! Your apartment is paid off, your kids are grown and living on their own. What do you need all that money for? Planning on salting it away? Lida’s just barely scraping by! Her back hurts, and she has to wash everything by hand!”
“If Lida’s barely scraping by, she should get a job,” I remarked reasonably. “Her kids are ten and twelve now—old enough to manage on their own, they don’t need a nanny.”
“How dare you!” my mother-in-law exploded. “Lida is a mother! She creates comfort! She’s such a good housewife, she tries so hard, brings every last penny into the home, and carries all the weight herself! And Arkady? He’s basically a businessman! He’s just in a… preparatory phase right now. He’s working on an amazing project and he’s about to get a fantastic offer! But you, the well-off ones, you can’t even spare a measly hundred and fifty thousand for your own sister?!”
My husband quietly appeared in the kitchen doorway. Roma always moved silently, and judging by his amused face and his arms crossed over his chest, he had clearly heard every word of his mother’s latest speech from start to finish.
“Mom, let’s clarify something,” Roma said, leaning against the doorway. “Which one of Arkady’s grand projects are we supposed to pitch in for this time? Is it a new virtual tank in his computer game? Or maybe he wants to upgrade his level-80 elf’s armor?”
“Roma!” my mother-in-law gasped, throwing her hands up so dramatically you’d think she was performing in a theater. “How can you talk like that about your sister’s husband?! He’s searching for himself! He has a sensitive soul, he’s creative—he can’t just go to work for peanuts and humiliate himself! He needs something big!”
“He’s forty-six years old, Mom,” my husband replied in a completely calm, emotionless tone. “His ‘sensitive soul’ hasn’t lifted itself off the couch since May. And the only thing impressive about his personality is the size of the dent in the mattress beneath him.”
I watched the scene with a slight smile. Roma was perfect in his unshakeable calmness. After twenty-five years of marriage, we’ve learned to act as a united front.
“You just don’t understand! You’re mean, materialistic people!” Victoria Leonidovna counterattacked, realizing that playing for pity hadn’t worked. “You only care about yourselves! But Lida—she’s frugal, she’s hardworking! Not like some people—” she looked me up and down, taking in my new cozy cashmere cardigan, “she doesn’t run around boutiques wasting money on clothes! She has to save every penny for her family!”
“Is that so?” I took a sip of my tea, enjoying the thyme aroma. “How very thrifty. And who was it getting a seaweed wrap and hot stone massage at the luxury spa salon on Lenin Street yesterday for eight thousand rubles? Was that Lida’s hologram, perhaps?”
My mother-in-law froze, her mouth slightly open.
“Imagine, Victoria Leonidovna, I actually ran into your daughter at the receptionist’s desk yesterday,” I continued politely. “I was there to buy a gift certificate for a colleague, and Lida was just paying. I guess she was in too much of a hurry saving the family budget to even say hello—she just averted her eyes and made a quick escape.”
My mother-in-law nervously swallowed, but to her credit, she recovered instantly:
“A girl needs to relax! She’s under constant stress! You have no idea how hard it is to keep up with all the household chores and support her husband through a crisis! That was just a one-time thing, for her health!”
“Mom, let’s play a game,” Roma suddenly suggested, walking to the table and sitting next to me. “The rules are super simple. If you can name just three real, actual achievements your daughter or her husband accomplished this past year—not made up, not your fantasies, but real things—I swear, I’ll personally order them both a new washing machine and a fridge tonight, from my own card.”
Victoria Leonidovna instantly straightened up. A predatory gleam flashed in her eyes. She was confident she could beat us at our own game in no time.
— Of course! — she lifted her chin proudly and smoothed an imaginary crease on the tablecloth. — As much as you want! First of all, Lidочка did the whole hallway renovation by herself! She poured her heart into it! Chose all the materials herself, came up with this amazing design, even found Italian wallpaper on sale! Now the whole family can’t stop admiring it!
— Not even close, — Rома cut her off sharply. — Maybe she did come up with the design. Maybe she pointed her finger at those wallpapers online. But the one who took a loan for that renovation — three hundred thousand rubles — was you, in your own name. And to this day, you give half your pension every month to the bank, paying crazy interest. I’ve seen the receipts when I helped you pay utilities in your app. This isn’t her achievement, Mom. This is your financial trap for the sake of her Italian wallpaper. What’s the next achievement?
Mother-in-law turned pale. She clearly hadn’t expected Roma to know this secret.
— Well… Arkady! — she blurted out, grabbing at a lifeline. — Arkady has straightened out! He gave up his bad habits! For the family! He hasn’t touched a drink in six months!
— He stopped buying his favorite craft beer at three hundred rubles a bottle only because Lida maxed out her second credit card, — my husband clarified mercilessly, looking his mother straight in the eye. — And you refused to give them any more money for their Friday “relaxation.” That’s not an achievement, Mom. That’s a forced financial diet. The second they get some extra cash, Arkasha will be first in line at the liquor store to celebrate his ‘success.’ Got a third achievement?
I stood up in silence, took a golden pie out of the oven, sliced it into neat portions, and set them on plates. The conversation stopped abruptly. Only the ticking of the wall clock could be heard.
Victoria Leonidovna was thinking feverishly. Her eyes darted around the kitchen, as if searching for a hint on the walls.
— Lida… Lida started studying! — she finally managed to say. — She enrolled in a course to become a marketplace manager! To work remotely and help her husband!
— And she quit after two weeks, — I reminded her, setting a plate with pie in front of my mother-in-law. — Because, quoting her: “They make you do boring spreadsheets, and numbers give me migraines.” And by the way, you paid the fifty thousand rubles for that course too, Victoria Leonidovna, withdrawing the money from your own savings.
Mother-in-law realized she was losing badly. Logic wasn’t working and facts were turning against her. So she played her strongest and most proven card — motherly tears.
— You’re cruel, heartless people! — she let a tear fall on purpose and spoke in a whiny tone, her eyes instantly welling up and her lips twisting into a hurt grimace. — I open my heart to them, and you… You just hate us all! You’re burning with money while your own flesh and blood suffers! How hard would it be for you, Natasha?! If you’d just given one hundred and fifty thousand, with your salary, you wouldn’t even have noticed the hole! You have to help your own, otherwise what’s the point of living?!
She paused, then added:
— I already promised Lida that we’d sort everything out! She ordered the appliances with cash on delivery. They’re bringing it tomorrow morning, and you and Roma will pay for it!
I froze with my fork in hand. So that’s what this is.
She didn’t just come to ask for help. She hadn’t just divvied up my bonus behind my back. She had already placed an order with my money. The confidence that I, as the dutiful daughter-in-law, would silently hand over my wallet for the sake of ‘family harmony,’ was so unshakeable in her that she couldn’t even imagine being refused.
— You know, Viktoria Leonidovna, — I dabbed my mouth with a paper napkin and looked at her with as much genuine sympathy as I could muster. — You’re absolutely right. Family should definitely help one another. And I think I’ve figured out how to solve this problem, since you’ve already promised and the delivery is set for tomorrow.
My mother-in-law instantly stopped sniffling. The tears vanished as if by magic. She straightened up and stared at me with greedy hope.
— I’ll call Lida right now, — I pulled my smartphone from my cardigan pocket and unlocked the screen. — I’ll be honest with her, tell her that Roma and I, unfortunately, are heartless misers and egotists. But you, as a truly loving, selfless mother, can’t leave your daughter in trouble. You’ve decided to take drastic measures. You’ll withdraw your last savings, the money you’ve been putting aside for a rainy day, and pay for the washing machine and fridge. All of it. Yourself. From your own savings.
My mother-in-law’s face stretched as if I’d suggested she eat a live frog. Her eyes went wide with horror.
— Wha… what savings? Natasha, are you out of your mind?! — her voice broke into a rasp. — That’s my funeral money! That’s for my dental work! I’ve been scraping those pennies together for three years! Why should she get my money? You have it! You got a bonus!
— Well, you said yourself it’s a real emergency for the kids, — I shrugged carelessly, searching my contacts for my sister-in-law’s number. — The washing machine’s broken, the fridge is making noise. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge some cash to your own beloved daughter? Especially since she’s so frugal, always trying so hard. Your saved money can wait, but the kids need clean clothes right now. You’re her mother!
— Don’t you dare call her! — Viktoria Leonidovna lunged across the table to grab my phone, almost knocking over the teapot.
But I’d already hit call, put it on speaker, and set the phone in the middle of the table.
The phone rang just a few times. Apparently, Lida was waiting for her mother’s report on the financial maneuvering.
— Yeah, Natasha, what do you want? — my sister-in-law’s whiny, drawn-out voice answered. She sounded like I’d interrupted her while she was running a major corporation. — If it’s about tomorrow’s delivery, make it after lunch—I don’t get up before one, I need my sleep. And tell the movers to put on shoe covers, I just washed the floors!
Roma quietly chuckled, watching his mother turn as white as chalk. Viktoria Leonidovna sat there, looking like she might faint, frantically gesturing at me: ‘Hang up! Turn it off!’.
“Hi, Lida,” I said as sweetly as possible into the phone. “Here’s the thing… Your mom is here with us right now. She’s sitting here in tears, really distressed about your broken appliances. But the truth is, Roma and I won’t be able to chip in. We have other plans for that money.”
“What do you mean you can’t?!” my sister-in-law shrieked so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear, losing all hint of gentle calm. “Are you kidding me?! You got a bonus of almost three hundred grand! Sveta from your accounting swore to me she saw your payroll! Mom said you’d pay for everything! We already dragged our old fridge out to the trash!”
Viktoria Leonidovna started waving her hands even more frantically, giving me a terrifying look and shaking her head, but I just smiled at her kindly.
“Sorry, Lida. Plans have changed. But don’t worry! Your mom would do absolutely anything for you. She’s decided she’ll go to the bank tomorrow, take out her last savings—you know, the fund for emergencies and her dental work—and give you all the money for your new appliances. Isn’t that an extraordinary sacrifice? So cancel that delivery for us, your mom will buy everything for you with her savings.”
There was a long, heavy pause on the other end. I could hear Lida breathing hard into the phone. Then, suddenly, came a furious, contemptuous scream:
“What the hell do you mean teeth?! Have you all lost your minds?! Why would I want her measly savings from some stinky passbook when you have real, actual cash?! Mom!” Lida yelled, knowing her mother was nearby. “Couldn’t you push them harder?! I already told Arkasha we’d have a two-door Bosch with a smart screen tomorrow! And a washing machine with steam! What am I supposed to buy with mom’s pennies? Some cheap Chinese junk that’ll break in a year?! You ruin my whole life with your so-called principles!”
“Good night, Lida. Happy shopping,” I said calmly, and pressed the end call button.
The mood in the kitchen grew so thick it was hard to breathe. Viktoria Leonidovna sat staring down at the tablecloth, shoulders slumped. The legend of the loving, modest, grateful hard-working daughter was just shattered loudly and completely—right here, above cooling tea. And it wasn’t me who did it, it was Lida herself.
It’s one thing to confidently divvy up someone else’s bonus under the pretense of duty. It’s something else entirely to hear your own beloved daughter dismiss your hard-earned savings as “pennies from a stinking account” and demand you squeeze your relatives for a smart-screen fridge.
My mother-in-law silently got up from the table and went into the living room. I guess she needed some time alone after that conversation with her daughter. I barely had time to grab a plate of pie when the doorbell rang suddenly and insistently from the hallway.
Roma and I exchanged glances. He got up and went to answer. From the corridor came some shuffling and the creak of door hinges, followed by a loud, self-assured male voice:
“Hey, Roma! Didn’t expect me? I decided to drop by—man to man. We have something to talk about. No women’s drama this time.”
Arkady burst into the kitchen, reeking of cheap cologne and an unmistakable smell of alcohol—the kind that just doesn’t fit the story of a man who supposedly quit drinking half a year ago. He wore a rumpled windbreaker and spun his car keys in his hand.
Victoria Leonidovna wasn’t in the kitchen, and Arkady didn’t even bother to ask where she was.
“Oh, Natasha! Hi there! I smell pies, awesome!” Arkady pulled up a chair like he owned the place and plopped himself down at the table. “Hey, Romych, listen. There’s something I need to talk to you about. My mother-in-law came to you today, begging for money for that washing machine. Well, here’s the thing—don’t give her anything. She’s old, clueless, always mixes everything up or just hands it over to Lida for some nonsense.”
Not a sound came from the living room, but Arkady, completely unaware, kept going with his impassioned speech, lounging in the chair as if nothing could stop him:
“Here’s a real business offer for you. I mean it—a legit project. I know Natasha got a nice bonus today. Lida’s been nagging non-stop about that new appliance. So here’s my idea: you transfer me a hundred and fifty grand. I’ll buy Lida the cheapest fridge used for about twenty, just so she stops yelling, then we’ll duct tape the old washing machine—she can make do with it a little longer. I’ll invest the remaining hundred and thirty in this money-making scheme I’ve got. It’s solid—some serious guys are involved. We’ll double it within a month. I’ll send you back fifty grand extra, promise! Lida spent my last stash yesterday on some silly spa day, didn’t even leave me gas money! Can you believe it—eight grand just to get a stone massage!”
Roma crossed his arms and studied his brother-in-law with interest.
“So, Arkasha, you’re suggesting I hand over my wife’s bonus so you can buy a used fridge, and then gamble the rest on one of your shady business schemes? Did I get your grand idea right?”
“What do you mean, shady, Romych? Come on!” Arkady exclaimed, pounding his chest indignantly. “This is the real deal! I talked it all over with the guys in the garage. We’re even celebrating the kickoff tomorrow. You know me—I don’t talk nonsense! And we’ll just tell my mother-in-law you guys refused her the money. She’ll give Lida her funeral stash anyway; Lida just plays the pity card and gets whatever she wants.”
“What did you just say, Arkasha?” came Victoria Leonidovna’s quiet, wavering voice from the living room doorway.
Arkady flinched, slowly turning his head, finally seeing his beloved mother-in-law. His bravado instantly disappeared. He blinked rapidly and his knuckles turned white from clenching the back of the chair so hard.
“Oh… Victoria Leonidovna… You’re already here?” he stammered, trying to force an awkward smile. “We’re just joking with Romych. Talking business. Men’s talk, you know.”
“Joking, are you?” his mother-in-law slowly entered the kitchen, looking very old and tired. “A cheap fridge, is it? The old, clueless one. Lida will squeeze out my funeral money. I see how it is.”
She didn’t say another word. She didn’t yell, didn’t try to blame anyone. Silently, leaning heavily against the edge of the table, she walked into the hallway. Quietly put on her boots—this time carefully stepping around my beige rug—then grabbed her wet umbrella.
Arkady jumped up nervously and hurried after her.
“Victoria Leonidovna, come on, you misunderstood! It was just a figure of speech! Listen, since you’re here… could you lend me five hundred rubles for a taxi? I’m completely broke, and it’s pouring outside…”
Roma silently grabbed Arkady by the collar of his rumpled windbreaker, led him out to the landing after his mother, and calmly, without any fuss, closed the door. The lock clicked shut.
My husband looked at me. He took his piece of pie, took a big bite, and nodded his approval:
“This is delicious. The meat just melts in your mouth. Maybe just a little less rosemary next time. With the delivery, the phone call, and this visit, everything finally makes sense.”
“You think I overdid it?” I raised an eyebrow as I poured myself a fresh cup of tea.
“I think it was long overdue to put your foot down,” he grinned wide. “I can just imagine how upset Arkasha must be right now. His business venture collapsed before it even got off the ground.”
The next day, as expected, Lida cancelled her order at the store. Of course, she didn’t touch the money from my mother’s savings—maybe she realized just how bad that would look, or maybe she just didn’t want the cheap appliances.
And then a week later, something happened that shook the very foundations of our family universe. My coworker saw Arkady. He was wearing a bright yellow delivery jacket, hauling a huge bag of groceries up to someone’s fifth-floor apartment—no elevator—breathing heavily and grumbling under his breath. Looks like his great money-making schemes had to be put on hold for the time being. After all, that secondhand fridge won’t buy itself.
Victoria Leonidovna didn’t visit us for almost two months. But when she finally did, for Roma’s birthday, she was quieter than ever. She never once mentioned the broken appliances, my accounting skills, or her son-in-law’s business sense. She just sat there, complimented my salads, and chatted about the weather in September.
And you know what’s most interesting about all of this? Ever since that evening, Lida hasn’t spoken to me. She blocked me everywhere. She genuinely believes I acted cruelly, ruined her dream of a beautiful life, humiliated her mother, and forced her husband to actually work.
Now here I am, sitting in the evening with a cup of herbal tea, wondering: since when is protecting your own wallet and nerves from pushy relatives considered cruelty?
