Seventy isn’t just a date,” she said the moment Alexey and Irina took off their shoes in the entryway. “It’s a major event. And we’ll celebrate accordingly. No pathetic crafts from the kids and no homemade cards with little flowers. I want gifts I can be proud of in front of people.”
Alexey adjusted his shirt collar—a habitual gesture that appeared every time his mother’s demands took on especially sharp outlines.
“Mom, what exactly do you mean?”
“Write this down: jewelry, expensive electronics, and best of all—a resort trip. For the whole family, of course. Me, you and Irina, the girls. A hotel no lower than four stars—those budget options of yours don’t suit me.”
Irina slowly untied her scarf, watching her mother-in-law. Over the years of living with Alexey she had learned to recognize a certain system in his mother’s demands: every wish inevitably turned into an obligation for everyone around her.
“A family vacation sounds tempting,” Irina said, neatly folding the scarf. “Except we’ll be the ones paying for your idea of luxury. We don’t have an unlimited budget, and spending our savings on someone else’s ambitions is a questionable pastime.”
Maria Sergeyevna laughed—that special laugh she used to meet any attempt to curb her appetites.
“Here comes your nagging, Ira. Always with your calculations and counting. You should be happy—not every day you get to be near someone with real style. Style, by the way, is a rare thing.”
“Style is when you don’t peer into other people’s wallets and plan generosity at the expense of the children’s savings,” Irina replied evenly. “And when you don’t declare ‘charity’ mandatory for relatives.”
“Children’s savings?” Maria Sergeyevna arched an eyebrow. “You mean my granddaughters? They’ll be repaid a hundredfold once they learn to live large instead of by your stingy principles.”
She turned to her son, and that spark flared in her eyes—the one that always came before the main blow.
“Lyosha, the trip is already booked. I paid a deposit. Tomorrow you need to pay the main amount.”
“Mom, wait,” Alexey mumbled. “Let’s discuss the details first.”
“Discuss all you want in the kitchen. And I’ll mark in my calendar that I’m finally giving myself a real celebration, not your modest little get-togethers.”
Irina remained by the mirror, fixing her hair and thinking that today’s visit was only a warm-up before the real battle.
A week later a glossy folder appeared on the coffee table, with a reproduction splashed in bright colors and geometric shapes.
“What’s this flashy masterpiece?” Irina asked, flipping through the catalog.
“Contemporary school painting,” Maria Sergeyevna announced in the tone of an art critic. “A new movement. The energy of color, the expression of lines. A serious investment—not for primitive perception.”
“For primitive perception we have a wedding photo hanging there,” Irina nodded toward the wall. “And it does its job perfectly.”
“It hangs there and collects dust. Time to set new accents,” her mother-in-law snapped. “Everyone has wedding pictures. Real art is the privilege of the chosen. Lyosha, help me take down this sentimental photo and hang something worthy.”
“Mom, maybe we should leave it?” Alexey tried to compromise. “Irina likes that picture.”
“Are you a man, or the executor of her petty whims?”
“Interesting,” Irina said. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’re giving orders in someone else’s apartment?”
“Someone else’s?” Maria Sergeyevna scoffed. “Didn’t my grandson eat breakfast here yesterday? Didn’t my money go into this renovation? Don’t act like you’re mistress of a royal palace. If beauty annoys you, just say so—we’ll put the little frame back and keep existing among laminated memories.”
“Beauty without respect turns into plain tastelessness,” Irina said, lifting the photo from the table. “Alexey, choose.”
“All right,” Alexey sighed. “I’ll move the photo into my office. It’ll be calmer that way.”
“Good boy,” Maria Sergeyevna said triumphantly. “And the painting will take its rightful place. The interior will come alive with new colors.”
“The interior might come alive,” Irina said quietly, “but the people living in it risk suffocating.”
“I picked an excellent restaurant,” Maria Sergeyevna announced on speakerphone. “Lyosha, look at the menu—the gourmet section, everything natural, no cheap substitutes. The manager praised their signature dishes. Of course, there’s a substantial surcharge. But my pension isn’t made of rubber. You’re not exactly needy, are you?”
“Mom, we’ll find the money,” Alexey replied. “I’ll give you a decent sum.”
“Decent is a vague word. I need specifics.”
“How much exactly?” Irina cut in. “If we’re talking ‘decent’ rather than reasonable, then let’s do without the theatrical effects.”
“Ira, don’t start,” Alexey lowered his voice. “We can take it from what we set aside. We’ll make it back later.”
“From what we set aside for Liza?” Irina уточила, perfectly calm. “From her university fund—for someone’s delicacies and champagne? Are you serious?”
“Don’t exaggerate. Problems should be handled as they come. Right now it’s an anniversary—then we’ll deal with it.”
“‘Then we’ll deal with it’ is a convenient formula for people who avoid dealing with it now. We saved for Liza for three years—she dreams of higher education. You’re proposing a trade: our daughter’s future for a festive menu. Flawless logic.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m some irresponsible schoolboy,” Alexey flared. “I want Mom not to feel forgotten.”
“Mom feels like the manager of other people’s money,” Irina said softly, with steel in her voice. “And managers sometimes need to step down from the pedestal.”
“Irina,” her mother-in-law cut in venomously, “you call my taste a pedestal because you don’t have any yourself. Everything you own comes from sales racks. And your husband is intimidated by your penny-pinching.”
“My husband is kind, not intimidated,” Irina smirked. “He’s just been taught for a long time that affection is measured in banknotes. Taught persistently—and without grounds.”
“Son,” Maria Sergeyevna raised her voice, “I hope you won’t let someone who doesn’t understand basic dignity give you family lessons.”
“Mom, enough,” he said.
“Exactly: enough,” Irina concluded. “Liza isn’t a safety deposit box. Money for the children, attention for the celebrant. That’s how decent families work—if we’re talking about dignity.”
“Mom, Grandma promised we’re going to see a puppy!” Vera burst into the entryway, glowing with excitement. “Her friends have the cutest fluffy one! Grandma said it’ll be her anniversary gift—from our family!”
“A puppy is a wonderful idea,” Irina hugged Vera. “If the dog is for the soul, not for prestige.”
“For prestige?” Vera didn’t understand.
“For that medal people wear instead of a heart,” Irina smiled. “Give me Grandma’s number. I’ll call myself—find out the cost and the conditions.”
“Mom,” Liza peeked out from the room, “if it’s a dog, I’ll walk it. But university isn’t a dog. You won’t touch the savings, right?”
“We won’t,” Irina assured her.
“Ira,” Maria Sergeyevna called, “Verochka and I picked a little one. But he turned out so-so. I found another: pedigree, awards in the parents, temperament! He was bred along a special line. This is a dog with a history, not some mutt for splashing through puddles.”
“‘A mutt for puddles’—nice imagery,” Irina noted to herself. “I like dogs that give love, not show documents. Want me to send links to listings? There are lots of wonderful puppies for honest prices. And I’ve got theater tickets ready—that’s my personal gift. I wanted to show I’m participating too, even without the golden shine.”
“Theater? You decided to teach me culture there too?” Maria Sergeyevna cackled. “Funny. A dog should match the level—just like people should match the level. My son will give me a truly purebred puppy. Not your discount coupons for joy.”
“Puppies aren’t to blame for people competing over who’s more noble,” Irina said calmly. “Let’s agree like human beings.”
“I’ll agree with my son. You’re not the boss here,” her mother-in-law snapped and hung up.
Irina soon found listings with photos of kind snouts and reasonable price tags. She addressed an envelope: “To the theater. For Maria Sergeyevna. From Irina.” Her intentions seemed clear and honest.
The morning of Maria Sergeyevna’s anniversary began with a strange carrier bag appearing in the entryway, from which a faint whimpering could be heard.
“Mom, happy early birthday,” Alexey’s voice on the phone sounded strained. “We’ll be an hour late. Some… circumstances came up.”
“What circumstances?” his mother bristled. “You just come and make your mother happy. No inventions.”
On the threshold stood a woman in her forties, with attentive eyes and a professional smile.
“Svetlana,” she introduced herself. “The breeder. The puppy is ready for his new home. All documents are in order: vet passport, microchip.”
Liza peered into the carrier and gasped.
“Dad—Mom said he costs like half a car. Is that true?”
“Don’t start now,” her father waved her off. “We’ll sort it out somehow.”
“‘Somehow’ is when plans collapse in one stroke,” Irina said, holding a folder with the family budget statements. “Svetlana, tell me honestly—does it not alarm you that we’re arguing right in front of a puppy?”
The breeder paused for a moment.
“It’s not dogs that alarm me,” she said. “It’s people who aren’t sure whether they truly need a four-legged friend. I can suspend the handover. The pup needs calm hands.”
“Suspend it,” Irina said, already understanding where this was going.
“We’re suspending nothing!” Alexey raised his voice. “The money’s paid. The puppy is Mom’s gift. Period.”
“What money?” Liza narrowed her eyes. “Dad—be specific.”
“From the family savings,” he admitted. “We’ll restore it later. I asked you not to put on a show.”
“A show?” Irina smiled the way surgeons do when someone tries to cover a serious wound with a band-aid. “You just gave the children a master class: how to break agreements under the cover of a holiday. Thank you. We’ll have plenty to discuss at a family meeting.”
“Don’t go preaching to my mother!” he exploded. “I know what to give her.”
“You decided at Liza’s expense. At the expense of her education,” Irina said. “Svetlana, we’re not taking the puppy. Sorry for wasting your time.”
“But I like him!” Vera clutched the carrier handle. “He’s so warm! He’ll be mine!”
“Verochka, listen,” Irina hugged her younger daughter. “He needs a home where people don’t argue about who he belongs to. We’ll see him again. I promise.”
“I won’t give him up!” the girl burst into tears.
“I suggest a compromise,” Svetlana stepped in. “I won’t finalize the deal today. The puppy stays with me. Come meet him, walk him. Final decision—in a week. Otherwise he won’t be a gift, he’ll be the reason for a family fight.”
The phone on the table rang.
“Son?” Maria Sergeyevna’s voice was sharp. “Where are you? What’s the reason for the delay?”
Alexey decisively picked up the carrier with the puppy.
“Svetlana, we’re taking him. Mom is waiting for her gift.”
“Dad,” Liza turned to the window, “then I’m not going with you.”
“And I’m staying too,” Irina said, taking off her coat. “Wish Maria Sergeyevna happy birthday from me.”
“And I’ll go!” Vera cried, pressing herself against the carrier. “Grandma will be so happy with such a beautiful puppy!”
Alexey left with the younger daughter and the puppy, leaving his wife and older daughter at home.
That evening Alexey returned in high spirits.
“Mom was thrilled! The puppy settled right in—so smart…”
Irina silently let Vera into the apartment, and blocked her husband at the door.
“Stay there!” Irina said coldly—and after stepping inside, she shut the door.
“What?” Alexey didn’t understand and started pounding on it.
A minute later three suitcases appeared on the landing.
“Ira—what are you doing?”
“What I should have done a long time ago,” she said calmly. “I’m tired of being your mother’s ATM. I’ll file for divorce in the next few days.”
“You’ve lost your mind!” Alexey screamed. “You’re destroying the family over some money?”
“Not over money. Over the fact that you choose her whims over our children’s future.”
“So you don’t know how to love at all!” he shouted, trying to push into the hallway, but Irina shoved him back sharply. “Heartless selfish woman!”
Behind the door Liza and Vera listened to the fight. Vera grabbed the phone and dialed her grandmother.
“Grandma… Mom kicked Dad out…”
The next day Maria Sergeyevna rang the doorbell. In her hands she held an envelope of cash.
“Here are your savings for Liza’s education,” she said demonstratively, holding it out. “Problem solved?”
“Yes,” Irina nodded, taking the money. “But the divorce will still happen.”
“Forgive me,” Alexey tried to hug his wife. “I understand I was wrong…”
“Too late,” Irina stepped back. “The decision is made.”
Maria Sergeyevna glared at her daughter-in-law.
“Are you really that vindictive?”
“I’m that tired of you making joint decisions at my expense.”
Three months later the divorce was finalized. The apartment and the car stayed with Irina and the girls.
“Lyosha, you ruined everything yourself!” Maria Sergeyevna fumed. “You should’ve shown backbone, not let that bitch order you around!”
“Mom, enough,” her son replied wearily. “It’s my fault.”
“How can you say that? After all my sacrifices!”
“What sacrifices?” Alexey exploded. “All you did was demand and spend our money!”
“Me? Demand? I spent my whole life so that…”
“So that what?” Alexey snapped. “So you could turn my family into a funding source for your ambitions?”
Alexey went into the room he’d grown up in, packed his things, and rented a one-room apartment as far from his mother as possible.
Maria Sergeyevna was left alone in her spacious apartment with an elite puppy. The purebred baby demanded constant attention, expensive food, and veterinary care. Neighbors complained about the barking, and walks in any weather turned into daily drudgery.
Meanwhile Irina and the girls went to a familiar veterinarian who rehomed stray animals.
“This guy,” the doctor pointed to a shaggy mixed-breed. “A soul of pure kindness—adores kids.”
Liza and Vera took turns walking their new friend, and Irina watched their happy faces with pleasure.
“Mom, do you regret it?” Liza asked once.
“Regret what?”
“That Dad isn’t with us anymore.”
Irina looked at her daughters playing with the dog in the yard, at her tidy apartment where no one rearranged furniture without asking, at the bank statement with the education savings untouched.
“You know, Liza—I’m calm. No one meddles in our budget, no one forces their tastes on us, no one turns holidays into a parade of showy wealth.”
“And if Dad wants to come back?”
“Then he’ll have to prove he’s learned to say ‘no’ to his mother. So far there’s no proof of that.”
The dog ran up to them, wagging his tail, and Irina stroked his head. Sometimes the right decisions turn out to be the simplest