Alina moved her phone away from her ear and slammed it down onto the café table. Her cheeks were burning, and her fingers tightened around her coffee cup.
“Was that your mother-in-law again?” Darya asked, pushing her salad aside. “You look like you’ve just been hit over the head.”
“Again. That’s the fifth thousand this month. Tomorrow it’ll probably be the sixth,” Alina grimaced. “Lyubov Petrovna doesn’t even ask anymore. She just informs me.”
“Why do you put up with it?” Darya snorted. “In our house, we keep it simple: my husband takes care of his mom, and I handle my parents. We only team up if there’s a fire, surgery, you know, the big stuff. The little things—we each manage our own families.”
“It’s more complicated for me,” Alina shook her head. “Marat got me this job through his friend. My salary is almost twice his. And my mother-in-law knows it. She thinks I owe her more than my own husband now. So she keeps asking—sometimes a thousand, sometimes two.”
“Well, there’s some logic to that,” Darya shrugged. “They opened the door for you.”
“The door was opened, but I walked through it myself!” Alina tapped her spoon on the saucer. “I’m a food product certification specialist—they moved me to another department in six months because of my brains, not Marat’s connections! And I have plans. I’m saving up. I’ll sell my two-room, add some, and buy a three-room place closer to the park. We’ll have kids, sooner or later. Or am I supposed to turn the kids’ room into a bank transfer station for my mother-in-law?”
“Then just tell her ‘no,'” Darya spread her hands.
“I will. I definitely will.”
That evening, Alina went straight to her husband, no beating around the bush. Marat, an engineering tester, was hunched over his blueprints and looked up with annoyance.
“I’m grateful you helped me get the job,” she began. “But that doesn’t mean your mother gets to call every other day and demand money like it’s on autopilot.”
“Look, I agree, what she’s doing isn’t right,” Marat put his pencil down. “I helped you out of kindness. I never thought it would lead to this. But on the other hand… It’s pocket change compared to your salary. Why not help out?”
“Pocket change?” Alina flared up. “That’s twelve thousand in ‘pocket change’ this month alone. You transfer her the money yourself if you’re so generous!”
“My salary is less than yours, you know that.”
“Exactly. And she knows it too. That’s why she calls me and not you!”
The next day, Alina’s phone rang at lunch. She glanced at the screen and grimaced.
“Alinochka, can you send over three thousand?” Lyubov Petrovna’s voice was sweet as syrup. “The utilities just went up.”
Alina silently opened her banking app and transferred the money. She didn’t say a word. She put the phone down with such frustration that her coworker turned around to look.
At that very moment, Lyubov Petrovna was sitting in a café with her longtime friend Galina. When she saw the payment notification, she nodded contentedly.
“See? Works like clockwork,” she said, twirling her phone. “My daughter-in-law got the job thanks to my son, so she should pay up. And if she stops—well, she’ll get fired. My son’s got friends in management.”
“What’s wrong with you, Lyuba?” Galina nearly choked on her tea. “Fired? Why get revenge? The main thing is for your boy to be okay.”
“I’m not against it if everything is alright,” Lyubov Petrovna waved her hand dismissively. “But she should help me out. I raised my son—I deserve this.”
“So you raised him, but some other girl is paying. That’s some strange math,” came the reply.
“There’s nothing strange about it,” the mother-in-law shot back. “My grown daughter is married and takes care of her husband. Here, it’s time for the daughter-in-law to pay her owed dues.”
A few days later, Lyubov Petrovna’s phone rang—her daughter Polina announced she would be visiting for the weekend with her grandson. The news made Lyubov Petrovna happy and she immediately called Alina.
“Polina is coming, join us for some shopping,” her tone left no room for refusal.
Alina shrugged. She was planning to visit the mall herself anyway.
At the supermarket, Lyubov Petrovna went all out—filling up her cart with cheeses, crab sticks, cakes, fancy creams. Then she started giving her daughter shopping advice:
“Polina, get anything you want for yourself, and take things for the little one too. Clothes, toys—don’t be shy.”
“Mom, are you serious?” Polina raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve never even bought me socks before.”
“Just pick whatever you like, your mother is telling you!”
Polina, thinking her mother just wanted to treat her, added a child’s jacket, a dress for herself, shoes, and a set of cosmetics to the cart. The cart was overflowing before their eyes.
Alina reached the checkout first, paid for her modest purchases, and stepped aside. That’s when Lyubov Petrovna turned to her:
“So, will you transfer the money? Or should I call your husband?” The mother-in-law smirked.
“Transfer what?” Alina was confused.
“Pay for our carts. Both of them. You have a good salary, you won’t even miss the money.”
“Mom, I can’t do it, I’ll just put everything back,” Polina went pale and started unloading the items.
“Don’t move!” the mother-in-law grabbed her daughter’s hand. “Don’t put anything back. Alina, give us the money. Or I’ll call Marat right now,” she threatened, dramatically pulling out her phone.
But Alina beat her to it. Her own phone was already at her ear.
“Marat? Listen closely. From now on, your mother gets nothing. Not a single cent. She just tried to make me pay seventy-five thousand at the checkout. That’s it, end of discussion.”
On the other end, Marat could only sense a scandal was brewing—he didn’t even get a word out before the call ended.
Lyubov Petrovna stood there, as red as a boiled lobster, clutching her phone with her arm outstretched. Alina turned and headed for the exit, leaving her mother-in-law with two overfilled shopping carts.
That evening, Marat burst through the door, slamming it loudly.
“What happened? My mother gave me her side of the story—I want to hear yours now!”
“Mine?” Alina snapped. “Your mother invited me shopping because Polina was visiting. Then at the checkout, she demanded I pay for everything. That’s the whole story!”
“So you could have just paid—what’s the big deal?” Marat shrugged. “It would have made Polina happy, it would have made Mom happy…”
“Seventy-five thousand, Marat! Seventy-five!” Alina jabbed a finger at him. “Are you ready to reimburse me that amount? Right now?”
Marat froze. Not a thousand, not two. His entire monthly salary—gone with one shopping trip.
“I…I didn’t know it was that much…” he muttered.
“Well, now you do. And remember: I’m not giving your mother anything else. If you want, use your own money to support her. But don’t forget—you have responsibilities to our family. If you can’t handle that, then what’s the point of any of this?”
Marat raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
“Alright, alright. I don’t even know why Mom insisted so much. But you could’ve met her halfway… I would’ve gradually closed up this whole mess.”
“A mess?” Alina smirked. “The mess your mom keeps digging herself?”
Suddenly, Marat’s phone blared. “Mom.” He stepped out into the hallway.
“Maratik! I was humiliated in front of everyone!” his mother shrieked over the phone. “Call your friend and tell him to fire that insolent woman! Today!”
“Mom, are you out of your mind, seventy-five thousand…”
“Fire her, I told you!”
Back in the kitchen, Alina couldn’t make out the words—just her husband’s tense voice. The call ended. Marat stood there clutching his phone, a burning thought in his mind: after all, his wife really did behave badly. He was the one who got her that job. He called his friend.
“Hey, can you lay off my wife? A debt repaid in kind.”
“What?” his friend was surprised. “Alina hasn’t worked in my department for a while, she’s been transferred to another department with a promotion. I have no power there, she’s got a different boss now.”
Marat turned around—and froze. Alina was standing in the doorway. She had heard everything.
“You… asked him to fire me,” her voice trembled with anger. “You bastard!”
The slap echoed like a gunshot.
“Instead of protecting me from your pushy, greedy mother, you decided to destroy me! Fire me! That’s your gratitude!”
“Alina, I was emotional, what I did was low, I’m sorry…” Marat grabbed his cheek.
“You know what I’ll do? I’m firing you. Not myself—you. I’m firing my husband who crossed over to the enemy’s side. Yes, the enemy! What else should I call your mother’s actions? She’s milking money from her daughter-in-law, not from her own son!”
“Don’t say that, our marriage will fall apart…”
“Then listen to my terms.” Alina folded her arms. “I’ve counted everything I sent your mother. Thirty-eight thousand. Until that money is transferred to my account, you’re not coming back in the house. Hand over your key, pack your essentials and move in with your mom. Think about your actions.”
“Are you serious?! I’m not going to apologize under those conditions!”
“I won’t accept any apologies anyway. Only the money. You’ve already done your dirty deed, and I won’t forget it. And by the way: I got promoted not thanks to your friend, but because of my own skills. I’m grateful to both of you for the start, but from now on, it’s my brains that move me forward, not your connections.”
Marat stayed silent. He had no idea how much his wife was earning now. But one thing was clear: she’d do just fine without him. As for him—he’d be stuck in the swamp with his mother.
“Give me until morning. I’ll transfer it then.”
During the night, the phone rang again. Marat answered, his voice rough.
“Son, remind your wife to send me fifty thousand,” came Lyubov Petrovna’s demanding voice. “She owes me for humiliating me.”
“From this moment on, you’re not getting a cent from my wife! Not a single cent, you hear me?!” Marat exploded and hung up. He was disgusted at how far things had gone. He could’ve stopped his mother long ago. He could have. But he didn’t.