Finally, Nastya got lucky with a man!” Varvara Andreevna, Nastya’s mother, gushed as she looked at her daughter’s wedding photo. “She always ended up with some poor suitors before! Now that’s a businessman for you!”
Varvara’s husband, Ilya Petrovich, silently finished his modest breakfast, nodding his head as Varvara continued to muse:
“Finally, we can start living like humans. Relatives are supposed to help each other. And now Vitalik is a relative—our son-in-law, no less! We need to renovate; those wallpapers glued during Tsar Gorokh’s time are hideous to look at!”
“I’d love a new fishing rod,” her husband dreamily closed his eyes.
“Tch! To each their own, and the lousy one thinks of the bathhouse!” his wife spat and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Think bigger, globally! Why do you need a fishing rod when you can go to the sea at their expense, where fishing is a whole different game!”
“Speaking of which, updating the car wouldn’t hurt,” Ilya Petrovich pondered aloud, “the old girl is aging, groaning but still running. Vitalik has such a fine Mercedes! Surely he won’t skimp on a decent domestic car for his beloved father-in-law?!”
“See, now you’re thinking in the right direction!” Varvara Andreevna praised him as she got ready for work, while Ilya Petrovich rolled his eyes:
“I was just joking! What simpleton would throw away such money? And I don’t even need a new car; I can assemble and disassemble my old one with my eyes closed.”
Nastya really did get lucky. And it wasn’t just because Vitalik was a wealthy businessman. Her ex, Lyokha, liked to drink and was quick with his fists. Nastya ran away from him after their first joint bar visit, where he got drunk and broke the bartender’s nose.
Another ex, Vadik, was a womanizer. He managed to date several girls at once. Little did he expect that Nastya and another of his girlfriends were friends and sometimes shared stories about their boyfriends.
Imagine their surprise when showing each other photos of their boyfriend, they saw the same pleased face staring back from the phone screens. Nastya simply dumped him, while her friend scratched up his interface so he couldn’t smile in photos with other girls for a long time.
Vitalik, however, was decent, caring, sweet. They met in a business center where Nastya went to apply for a new job and got lost in its endless corridors. She was panicking when the doors to one of the offices opened, and a young man stepped out.
Vitalik was there on business. Leaving the office, he literally bumped into her. She looked either scared or anxious.
“Miss, are you alright?” the businessman took Nastya by the shoulders and looked into her eyes.
“I’m lost,” she admitted without making up any nonsense and almost cried, “It’s like some Minotaur’s labyrinth! How do people even find the exit here? Probably, in the dark corners, there sit skeletons of the likes of me, the miserable ones.”
Vitalik laughed at the girl’s childlike directness. He hadn’t met such simple girls in a long time. Nine out of ten would have started making up some nonsense.
“And I don’t find it funny. I’ve been wandering here for half an hour,” Nastya looked at the young man with resentment.
“Why didn’t you enter any office and ask for directions?” Vitalik already knew he didn’t want to part with this girl. And whether she had someone or not—he didn’t even think about it.
“I didn’t want to distract people from work over nonsense,” said Nastya, then paused for about five seconds and added, “Honestly, I was embarrassed.”
Laughing, Vitalik led Nastya into the light.
“Well, I’ve saved you, now you simply have to marry me!” Vitalik said seriously, looking at Nastya.
Now it was her turn to laugh.
“Why would you want a wife who can get lost in three pine trees?”
“So I can save her and always look like a hero!” Vitalik puffed out his chest proudly, and they both laughed again.
Later, Nastya found out that her fiancé was a wealthy businessman. At 35, he had built his own house, owned a profitable business, and was respected among his peers and even competitors.
“Sweetheart! Don’t even think about it, marry Vitalik!” her mother advised. “What luck—a prominent, rich, generous man! Lines form for such suitors, and he chose you.”
After the wedding, Nastya moved in with her husband. And then it began.
“Nastenka, darling, the doctor prescribed me a medicine, for the brain. Very effective. But very expensive. Could you ask Vitalik to help out with the money?” was Varvara Andreevna’s first request.
“Of course, mom, what’s there to talk about!” Nastya relayed the request to her husband, and he forked over the necessary sum.
Then the requests became more frequent and the sums larger. First, it was a toilet to replace, then a shower cabin.
“Oh, Nastyusha,” Varvara Andreevna came to visit her daughter and son-in-law one day, “they’re offering a spa package. To get some treatment.”
“Then go, of course!” Nastya was happy for her mother.
“How to go? The price for two bites. I can’t leave father home alone. When the cat’s away, the mice will play!”
“Alright, mom, I’ll talk to Vitalik,” sighed Nastya. She was already embarrassed to ask her husband for money for her parents.
“Nast, of course, I don’t mind,” Vitalik frowned after listening to his wife in the evening over dinner, “but I don’t understand—both your parents work, as far as I know, in decent positions and aren’t destitute. They’ve already saved up enough for not just one, but even two spa trips with our help.”
“I understand, but how can I refuse mom?” Nastya sighed.
“Alright,” Vitalik hugged her, “we’ll send your dad and mom to rest and get treated!”
Nastya and her husband lived in peace for nearly a month. No one bothered them with requests and demands. Nastya’s parents called her a couple of times from the spa. The first time when they arrived there, the second time when they were leaving.
“Nastyusha, daughter, we’re coming back. Let Vitalik meet us at the airport,” Varvara Andreevna called Nastya in a tone that brooked no argument. “And you go to our house, stock the fridge. Buy some groceries, prepare something. We’ll be tired and hungry when we arrive.”
“Mom, Vitalik can’t meet you himself, he’s away on business for two days,” Nastya defended her husband. “Maybe you’ll take a taxi?”
“There! I knew it! Hear that, father?! Our relatives have become too high and mighty! Can’t even meet us personally, sending some taxi driver instead!”
“Mom, what are you saying?” Nastya flared up at the unfair accusations. “If Vitalik’s not in town, how can he meet you?”
“And what kind of husband is that, who, having just married, leaves his wife alone for a whole two days?” the mother continued to rant.
“Mom, it’s his job! And you know that! I’ll call you a taxi. I’ll send the car number. I’ll bring the groceries,” the daughter said angrily.
“Then make it business class. With Vitalik’s car being what it is, we won’t be riding in a bucket of bolts!”
Nastya didn’t respond, silently ending the conversation.
“No, did you see that?” Varvara Andreevna stared at the black phone screen, addressing her husband. “She hung up! Vitalik’s a bad influence on her, oh, he really is!”
“Come on, they’ve done so much for us already,” Ilya Petrovich shrugged off. “You couldn’t even dream of that before.”
“What do you know?!” Varvara attacked her husband. “For Vitalik, all this—spit and polish! And the trips, and your lilac toilet, God forgive me, and everything else. He should be praying that he got such a wife! We raised such a berry for him, nurtured it!”
“And what’s so special about this berry?” Ilya Petrovich smirked. “A girl like any other. Two arms, two legs. Well, she’s pretty—like you, smart—like me. But there are plenty like her for free behind the barn! It’s our luck that she snagged such a man. And she was sitting around as a maiden for too long.”
“I don’t know,” Varvara Andreevna waved her hand, “a son-in-law should help his wife’s parents!”
“To help, not to keep!” Ilya Petrovich tapped his wife on the forehead. To which she snorted and turned away with an offended look.
After talking with her mother, Nastya sighed and went to the store herself for groceries for her parents. She didn’t ask Vitalik for money—she had already received her first salary and bought everything necessary with it. So, the parents arrived to find everything ready.
“There you go,” Varvara Andreevna said satisfied to her husband, “it only took an appeal to your conscience—and you have a full fridge, and your first and second courses ready. The taxi driver, of course, was a jerk: he couldn’t pull up to the entrance.”
“Well, there was a furniture van unloading there! Where was he supposed to pull up? It’s not a helicopter!” Ilya Petrovich defended the taxi driver.
“And Vitalik would have managed! He would have dealt with that van and brought us right to the entrance!”
“Listen, Varvara, you act like you’re the oligarch’s wife, not our daughter!” Ilya Petrovich got angry. “You have delusions of grandeur like the old woman in the ‘Golden Fish’ tale. Watch out, you’ll end up by a broken trough soon.”
“Don’t talk nonsense! They wouldn’t dare treat us like that,” the wife dismissed.
Ignoring her husband’s warnings, Varvara Andreevna didn’t stop milking her daughter’s family. However, now Nastya didn’t ask for money from Vitalik but gave her own. But she wasn’t a businesswoman, so her money quickly ran out.
One day, Nastya and her husband stopped at a supermarket for groceries.
“Damn!” Vitalik realized while at the checkout. “It seems I left my money, cards, and phone in the car.”
“No big deal, I have everything with me,” Nastya pulled out her wallet and a card from it.
“Insufficient funds on the card,” the cashier glanced at the girl. Nastya blushed. She had completely forgotten that she recently paid for her mother’s hairdressing services and manicure. And there were still several days until payday.
Vitalik thoughtfully looked at his wife.
“Miss, please wait a minute, I’ll run to the car,” he asked the cashier.
Sitting in the car, the husband waited for explanations from Nastya.
“I’m not going to control your expenses, but only if they’re justified. You have a decent salary, and you know where the home money lies. Why is there not enough funds on your card?”
Then Nastya confessed that she stopped asking him for money for parental needs and was paying for them with her salary.
“Nastya, these aren’t parental needs but whims! Ones that they can afford themselves. Needs are health, unexpected repairs, job loss. I never mind money for those. But I married you, not your kin! And I’m not intending to keep them! I see you still can’t refuse them. I’ll talk to them myself,” Vitalik sighed, looking at his crestfallen wife.
He kept his word:
“Vitalik?” Varvara Andreevna was surprised, opening the door. Her son-in-law stood on the threshold.
“May I come in?” the son-in-law was serious, which alarmed the mother-in-law.
“Of course, come in,” she let him into the hallway and led him to the kitchen. “Tea? Coffee?”
“I won’t be long,” Vitalik sat at the table. “Varvara Andreevna, Ilya Petrovich, I need to talk to you. I respect you very much. You gave me a wonderful wife. But she now has her own family. Maybe it’s time to stop pulling money from her?”
“Hello!” the mother-in-law bristled. “We kept her—fed her, educated her, didn’t sleep at night. Now it’s her turn.”
“You were obligated to do that until she was eighteen. As far as I know, while she lived with you, which was until she was 25, she gave you her entire salary. She will be obligated to support you when you are frail, unable to work old people. But you are not even retired yet. Both of you. I will always help you financially if you have problems, but I won’t allow you to nearly drain my wife’s salary, so know that! And if this continues, I will be giving Nastya money on account. I think you don’t want that for your daughter…” Vitalik finished and stood up from the table. The father-in-law, standing behind his wife, discreetly showed the son-in-law a thumbs-up and nodded.
“Got it?” Ilya Petrovich smirked at his quiet wife after the son-in-law left. “I warned you! Now sit by a broken trough!