“Sorry, but this money is going into our family account,” the mother-in-law’s voice sounded like a verdict when Marina showed her husband the envelope with her first paycheck after maternity leave. “In this house, everything is shared. It’s always been that way.”
Marina froze in the living-room doorway. Her fingers went white around the precious envelope she’d received only an hour earlier. For eight months she had waited for this moment—going back to work, her first paycheck, the chance to feel like a person again instead of an accessory to a stroller. And now Valentina Ivanovna was calmly taking that joy from her, the way she had taken everything in this house for the past three years.
Sergey sat on the couch between them—between his wife and his mother. His gaze flickered from one to the other, but Marina already knew how it would end. He would stay silent again. Pretend nothing was happening again. Leave her alone in this war, where she never had a chance.
“Valentina Ivanovna, this is my salary. I worked for it—I earned this money,” Marina tried to speak calmly, though everything inside her was boiling.
Her mother-in-law smirked with that special, condescending smile she wore whenever her daughter-in-law tried to show even a hint of independence.
“My dear, you live in my house. You eat my food. You use my things. Do you really think you can just hide money? That’s disrespectful to the family. To tradition. Right, Seryozha?”
All eyes turned to Sergey. He sat hunched over, staring at his hands. Marina saw his shoulders tense, saw him gather courage to say something. But when he finally lifted his head, she found the familiar emptiness in his eyes.
“Mom’s right. It’ll be better for everyone,” he muttered, not looking at his wife.
At that moment something snapped inside Marina. Not broke—snapped, like a string pulled too tight for too long. She looked at her husband, then at her mother-in-law, who was already holding out her hand for the envelope, certain of her victory.
“Fine,” Marina said in a perfectly calm voice. “Take it.”
She held the envelope out to Valentina Ivanovna. The older woman took it with a satisfied winner’s smile, not even noticing the strange gleam in Marina’s eyes.
“Good girl. I always knew you were sensible. I’ll go put it in our family safe. It’s safer there.”
The mother-in-law swept out grandly, carrying away the fruit of someone else’s labor. Sergey exhaled with relief, deciding the conflict was over. He even tried to hug his wife, but Marina pulled away.
“Don’t touch me,” she said quietly, and went into their room.
From that day on, something in the house changed. On the surface everything stayed the same. Marina got up at six, made breakfast for everyone, took her daughter to kindergarten, went to work, came back, cooked dinner, put the child to bed. But now there was a mechanical precision in her movements, like a robot running a program.
Valentina Ivanovna was triumphant. She believed she had finally broken her stubborn daughter-in-law, taught her to respect “family values.” Every morning at breakfast she happily reported how their family capital was growing.
“You see how good it is when everyone is together!” she proclaimed, spreading butter on bread. “Marina contributes, I contribute my pension, Seryozha contributes his salary—and I, as the most experienced, manage it. Next year we’ll be able to replace the car.”
“For whom—‘we’?” Marina asked once, without lifting her eyes from her plate.
“What do you mean, for whom? For the family! Seryozha needs a more reliable car—he’s the head of the family.”
“But he already has a car,” Marina said. “And I don’t.”
Her mother-in-law frowned.
“Why would you need a car? Seryozha gives you a ride when you need one.”
“When it’s convenient for him,” Marina corrected.
“Don’t start,” Valentina Ivanovna warned. “We already discussed everything. The money goes to shared needs.”
Marina nodded and said nothing more. In fact, she barely spoke at all after that. At first Sergey tried to find out what was going on, but she answered in short phrases: everything’s fine, I’m just tired, lots of work. He calmed down. After all, there were no more scandals, his mother was happy, his wife didn’t argue—what more could a man want?
A month passed. Marina brought home her second paycheck and silently handed it to her mother-in-law. Valentina Ivanovna accepted the money as her due; she didn’t even say thank you. Just nodded and carried it into her room, where the family savings were kept in an old Soviet safe.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said that evening when the whole family was at dinner. “We should give Marina some pocket money. A woman needs little things. Tights, lipstick…”
She said it as if she were doing her daughter-in-law a great favor.
“How much?” Marina asked.
“Well… three thousand a month should be enough. You don’t need more. There’s nowhere special for you to dress up anyway—work and home.”
Marina did the math. Three thousand out of her sixty. Five percent of her own salary.
“Generous,” she said without expression.
Her mother-in-law nodded in satisfaction, missing the irony.
“That’s what I think too. I also give Seryozha pocket money. Though he needs more—he’s a man. He has meetings, representational expenses.”
“Mom, come on…” Sergey mumbled, embarrassed.
“It’s fine, son. I understand. You’re our provider.”
Marina looked at her husband. A “provider” who handed his entire salary to his mother and received pocket money from her at thirty-five. She lowered her eyes and kept eating.
Another month later something unexpected happened. At work Marina was offered a promotion—new position, new responsibilities, and nearly double the pay. Her boss, a smart woman in her fifties, pulled her aside after a meeting.
“Marina, you’re an excellent specialist. But I want to warn you—this isn’t just a raise. It’s responsibility. Business trips. An irregular schedule. Can you handle it?”
“I can,” Marina answered firmly.
“And your family? Your husband won’t be against it?”
Marina smiled oddly.
“My family will be glad.”
At home she announced the promotion at dinner. Valentina Ivanovna beamed.
“What news! Well done, Marinochka! That means our family budget will get a serious boost!”
“Yes,” Marina agreed. “A serious boost.”
“How much will you be making now?”
“One hundred and twenty thousand.”
Her mother-in-law nearly choked on her tea.
“How much?!”
“One hundred and twenty. That’s with bonuses and per diem from trips.”
Valentina Ivanovna’s eyes lit with greedy excitement. She was already calculating what they could buy: a living-room renovation, new furniture, maybe even a resort trip.
“Wonderful! Just wonderful! Seryozha, did you hear? Your wife is a star!”
Sergey nodded, looking at his wife with surprise—and a trace of unease. He hadn’t expected such career growth. In his worldview, a wife was supposed to work quietly in a modest position; advancement was a man’s business.
“Congratulations,” he forced out.
“Thanks,” Marina said. “By the way, I’ll have business trips. The first one is in two weeks—to Saint Petersburg for five days.”
“Business trips?” her mother-in-law frowned. “And what about the house? The child?”
“Liza can stay for aftercare,” Marina said. “Or you and Sergey can manage. You’re family—everything is shared, mutual support and all that.”
Valentina Ivanovna pressed her lips together but said nothing. One hundred and twenty thousand a month was worth some inconvenience.
Marina brought home her first increased paycheck a month later and handed it over as usual. Her mother-in-law counted the bills with pure happiness on her face.
“Marina, where’s the rest?”
“The rest of what?”
“You said one hundred and twenty. This is eighty.”
“Oh, that. Forty thousand is per diem. It goes to a separate card—it’s earmarked money. I have to report it.”
Valentina Ivanovna frowned.
“But you won’t spend all of it on the trip. You can save some.”
“You can,” Marina agreed. “But the reports are checked strictly. Every receipt.”
That was only partly true. Yes, the per diem went separately, but the control wasn’t quite that strict. Valentina Ivanovna didn’t need to know that.
Business trips became more frequent—Saint Petersburg, Moscow, Yekaterinburg, Novosibirsk. Marina left for three to five days at a time, leaving her daughter with her husband and mother-in-law. Valentina Ivanovna grumbled but tolerated it—the money was worth it.
Sergey started noticing changes in his wife. She became more confident, calmer. She no longer reacted to his mother’s jabs—didn’t argue, didn’t sulk, didn’t get offended. She simply did her job and lived her life. Or rather, the part of her life that existed outside the home.
“Marish, maybe that’s enough with these trips?” he asked one evening as she packed a suitcase. “Liza misses you. And I do too.”
Marina lifted a calm gaze to him.
“And your mother? Does she miss me too?”
“What does Mom have to do with this?”
“Everything,” Marina said evenly. “In this house, her opinion is the deciding one. Ask her if she wants me to give up business trips and bonuses. If she says yes, I’ll write my resignation tomorrow.”
Sergey fell silent. He knew his mother would never agree to lose that income.
Meanwhile Marina lived a double life. At home she was a quiet, obedient daughter-in-law, handing all her money into the family budget. But on business trips… on business trips she was someone else—free, independent, successful.
She had a separate bank account that no one knew about. Not only saved per diem went there, but also bonuses for successful projects—paid to her corporate card. And she began taking freelance work too; her experience and contacts made it easy.
In a year, a solid sum accumulated in that secret account. Marina looked at it and thought about the future—her future, and her daughter’s. Without Valentina Ivanovna. And, most likely, without Sergey.
The breaking point came unexpectedly. Marina returned from another trip one day early. She wanted to surprise her daughter—she missed her. She opened the door quietly with her key and heard voices from the living room.
“Mom, maybe we should give Marina at least some of her money back?” Sergey was saying. “She really does work a lot.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Valentina Ivanovna snapped. “Why would she need money? There’s nothing for her to spend it on. I feed her, I dress her. And you and I need it more. You know I’m saving for an apartment for you.”
“But we already have this apartment…”
“This one stays to me. You need your own. When Marina gets on your nerves and you find yourself a normal wife, where will you live?”
Marina froze in the entryway. Her heart thudded so loudly she thought they must hear it. But they kept going.
“Mom, what are you talking about? Marina is my wife. We have a child…”
“So what? Things happen. You’ll divorce her, find another— younger, prettier. One who will truly respect me instead of pretending like this one. You think I don’t see the way she looks at me? But fine—let her work for now, bring in money. And then we’ll see.”
“Mom…”
“Enough, Seryozha. I know what’s best for you. Always have. And we’ll buy you an apartment with that money. Let the donkey work, and you and I will live.”
Marina silently closed the door and went downstairs. She sat on a bench in the courtyard and pulled out her phone. Her fingers weren’t shaking. Inside there was a strange, icy emptiness. She opened her banking app and looked at her savings. Enough. More than enough to start.
She called her friend who worked in real estate.
“Hello, Sveta? It’s Marina. Remember you mentioned that two-room in the new building? Is it still for rent? Great. Can we see it tomorrow? Yes, I’ll come alone. Thanks.”
Then she went back upstairs. She entered noisily and called from the doorway:
“I’m home! I got back early!”
Valentina Ivanovna came out into the hall with an impassive face.
“Oh, Marina. Why so early?”
“The meeting got moved. Where’s Liza?”
“Still at kindergarten. Sergey will pick her up.”
“Okay. I’ll unpack.”
That evening at dinner everything was as usual. Valentina Ivanovna talked about her plans for the family budget, Sergey was silent, Liza chattered about kindergarten. Marina smiled and nodded in all the right places.
The next day she took time off work and went to see the apartment. A bright, spacious two-room place with a view of the park. A playground in the courtyard. A good neighborhood, near a school.
“You taking it?” Sveta asked.
“I am. When can we move in?”
“Tomorrow, if you want. Two months up front.”
“Deal.”
Over the next two weeks Marina prepared. She bought what they needed and brought it to the new apartment. Business trips made it easy to be away without raising questions. She opened a bank account in her daughter’s name and transferred part of her savings there. She consulted a lawyer about divorce and child support.
And then the day came. Friday, end of the month. Marina received her salary and, as usual, brought it home. Valentina Ivanovna was waiting in the living room, ready to collect the tribute.
“Ah, Marinochka! Bring it here!”
Marina handed her the envelope. Her mother-in-law counted the bills out of habit.
“So—where’s the bonus? Seryozha said you were supposed to get quarterly bonuses.”
“There wasn’t a bonus,” Marina said calmly.
“What do you mean, there wasn’t? Don’t lie to me!”
“There wasn’t,” Marina repeated. “Because I quit two weeks ago.”
Silence hung in the room like fog. Valentina Ivanovna stared at her daughter-in-law, not believing her ears.
“What? Quit? Seryozha!!!” she screamed. “Come here—now!”
Sergey ran in, looking at his mother in alarm.
“What happened?”
“Your wife says she quit!”
Sergey turned to Marina.
“Is it true?”
“It is.”
“But… why? For what?”
Marina looked at him calmly, almost with pity.
“Because I found a better job. With twice the salary. In another city.”
“In another city?!” Valentina Ivanovna shrieked. “Have you lost your mind? What about the family? The house?”
“What family, Valentina Ivanovna?” Marina turned to her. “The one where you’re saving my husband money for an apartment for his new wife? The one where I’m a donkey who has to work for you? I heard everything. Two weeks ago.”
Her mother-in-law’s face turned crimson.
“You were eavesdropping?!”
“I came home. To my home. Though no—excuse me, to your home. There’s nothing of mine here. Not even my husband—he’s yours.”
She turned to Sergey, who stood pale, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.
“I’m filing for divorce. The papers are already with my lawyer. I rented an apartment; tomorrow Liza and I are moving. You can visit your daughter whenever you want—I won’t interfere. Child support is twenty-five percent of your salary. And yes, I know your real salary—not the one you show your mother.”
“You have no right!” Valentina Ivanovna screamed. “You can’t take the child! That’s my grandchild!”
“Granddaughter,” Marina corrected. “And I can. I’m the mother. And you… you’re just the grandmother. A grandmother who, by the way, hasn’t taken the child for a walk once in three years, hasn’t taken her to kindergarten, hasn’t read her a bedtime story. All you know how to do is count money—other people’s money.”
She stood and headed for the door.
“Marish, wait!” Sergey finally found his voice. “Let’s talk! Don’t do this so suddenly!”
Marina paused in the doorway.
“Three years, Seryozha. You had three years to talk. To stand up for me even once. To be a husband, not Mommy’s little boy. Time’s up.”
“Where will you go? How will you live?” her mother-in-law shouted after her venomously.
Marina turned and smiled—for the first time in a long time, sincerely.
“On my salary. The one that’s twice as much. Two hundred and fifty thousand a month. I told you—new job. I just didn’t mention I’ve already been working there for a month. Remotely. And you were so busy counting my money that you didn’t notice.”
She walked out, leaving them standing in the middle of the living room—mother and son, mother-in-law and mommy’s boy—with their “shared budget,” which now had a hole of one hundred and twenty thousand a month.
The next morning Marina and Liza left. Her mother-in-law tried to start a scandal, tried to stop them, threatened to call the police. But Marina simply got into the taxi she’d ordered with two suitcases and drove away.
The new apartment was bright and spacious. Liza ran from room to room, squealing with delight:
“Mom, it’s so pretty here! Is this our home now?”
“Yes, sunshine. Ours.”
“And where will Daddy live?”
“Daddy will live with Grandma. But he’ll come visit us.”
“And Grandma?”
Marina fell silent, looking out the window at the park.
“And Grandma… Grandma will live her life. And we’ll live ours.”
The phone was exploding with calls—Sergey, Valentina Ivanovna, Sergey again. Marina turned the sound off and started building a new life. A free life.
A week later Sergey finally found their address and came. He stood in the doorway with a bouquet of flowers and a guilty look.
“Marina, let’s go back. I’ll talk to Mom. She agrees to give you half your salary back.”
Marina looked at him and didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. Half of her own salary—how generous.
“Seryozha, go home. To your mom. She made you dinner.”
“But…”
“No. Just no. You can come see Liza on weekends. I’ll email you a list of what she needs. And yes—I expect the child support on the fifteenth.”
She closed the door without waiting for an answer. The apartment smelled of fresh baking—she and Liza were making cookies. The first cookies in their new home. Where everything was theirs. Truly theirs.
And in the old apartment, Valentina Ivanovna sat over her calculations. The numbers didn’t add up. Without Marina’s salary, their praised “family budget” was bursting at the seams. It turned out the pension and Sergey’s salary barely covered utilities and food. They could forget about saving for an apartment.
“Nothing,” she muttered, furiously erasing and rewriting figures. “She’ll come back. She’ll realize she can’t survive alone and crawl back. They all come back.”
But Marina didn’t come back. Not after a month, not after two, not after half a year. She lived, worked, raised her daughter. And most importantly—she was free. Free from a toxic mother-in-law, from a weak husband, from humiliation and control.
And every morning, waking up in her own apartment, watching the sun outside the window, she smiled—because it was her sun, over her life