Ekaterina stepped out of the shower and wrapped her hair in a towel. The apartment was quiet—Maxim was probably in the bedroom at his computer. She went into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and only then noticed that her bag on the chair was slightly unzipped.
Strange. She was certain she’d closed every zipper before getting into the shower.
She looked inside. Her wallet was still there, her documents too. She ran her hand through the pockets—makeup pouch, keys, phone. Everything seemed to be in its place. Relieved, she set the bag aside and went to get dressed.
Maxim was sitting in the room, eyes locked on his laptop. When she walked in, he startled and quickly switched to another tab.
“Why are you so tense?” Ekaterina frowned.
“Me? No, I’m fine. Just finishing up some work.”
She shrugged and turned to the wardrobe. Lately, Maxim had been acting off. Some nights he’d slip into the hallway to make secret calls. Other times he’d jump at every notification. Ekaterina kept telling herself it was just work stress.
The next day—Saturday—Maxim’s phone was ringing nonstop. Ekaterina saw “Mom” pop up on the screen at least five times, but he declined every call.
“Maybe you should pick up?” she nodded toward the phone.
“I’ll call her back later.”
“Maxim, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he muttered, turning to the window.
That evening, while Ekaterina was making dinner, his phone rang again. This time he grabbed it and rushed out into the stairwell. Through the wall she could hear him explaining something in a panicked voice.
Ekaterina wiped her hands and listened.
“Mom, I didn’t know! You never told me how much you were going to spend! I thought there was more on it…”
Silence.
“Eighty-five thousand?! Are you out of your mind?”
Another pause.
“I don’t have another card! I don’t even know if Katya has any other accounts!”
Ekaterina froze with the ladle in her hand. A card? What card?
She darted to her bag and dumped everything onto the table. Wallet, documents, makeup pouch… the small zippered pocket.
Empty.
Her salary card was gone.
Ekaterina yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway. Maxim was on the landing with his phone pressed to his ear.
“Mom, wait—”
“Give me the phone,” Ekaterina held out her hand.
Maxim went pale.
“Katya, not right now—”
“Now. The phone.”
Reluctantly, he handed it over.
“Lyudmila Stepanovna? This is Ekaterina.”
“Oh, so you finally showed up!” her mother-in-law’s voice trembled with outrage. “Do you even know your husband gave me a card with absolutely no money on it?!”
Ekaterina leaned against the wall.
“Maxim gave you my card?”
“Yes! I invited my friends out to a restaurant—I wanted to treat them properly. And then the card got declined! The bill was eighty-five thousand! I had to humiliate myself and ask them to chip in. Do you understand how I looked?!”
“Lyudmila Stepanovna,” Ekaterina spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a child. “Maxim took my card without permission. That’s called theft.”
“Theft?! What theft? He’s my son! And you’re his wife! You’re supposed to help me!”
“I don’t owe you anything. Especially not someone who takes what doesn’t belong to them.”
“How dare you—”
“If this happens again, I’ll file a police report. Against both of you.”
Her mother-in-law choked on indignation, but Ekaterina had already ended the call.
Maxim stood there with his shoulders hunched.
“Katya, I was trying to do the right thing…”
“You took my card without asking and handed it to your mother?”
“She asked for it! She said it was just for a little while—just to go to a restaurant…”
“And you thought that was normal? To dig through my bag, pull out my card, and give it to someone else?”
“She’s not someone else! She’s my mother!”
Ekaterina laughed—short, sharp, joyless.
“Maxim, there were fifteen thousand on that card. That was all we had until payday. Your mom planned to spend eighty-five. Do you even understand what could’ve happened?”
“I thought there was more…”
“You thought? Or you didn’t think at all?”
She turned and walked back into the apartment. Maxim trailed after her.
“Katya, please forgive me. I really didn’t want trouble. Mom said she was just having dinner with her friends. I figured maybe ten thousand at most…”
Ekaterina sat on the couch and looked at him.
“You know what the worst part is? Not even that you took it. It’s that you didn’t even try to ask me first.”
“I knew you’d say no.”
“Exactly. You knew. And you did it anyway.”
Maxim lowered himself onto the couch beside her.
“Mom’s always complaining that her friends judge her. They say her son is doing well, but he’s forgotten about his mother. She wanted to prove that isn’t true.”
“Using my money.”
“…Yeah.”
Ekaterina stood and walked into the kitchen. The soup on the stove had long gone cold. She turned the burner off and leaned on the countertop.
Maxim appeared in the doorway.
“So what happens now?”
“I don’t know,” Ekaterina answered honestly. “I need time to think.”
“You’re not going to divorce me over this, are you?”
She turned to him.
“Maxim, in two years of marriage your mother has never called me by my name. It’s always ‘the daughter-in-law’ or ‘Maxim’s wife.’ She shows up without warning, criticizes my cooking, my housekeeping, even the way I dress—and you stay silent.”
“She’s just like that. Difficult personality.”
“Everyone can be difficult. Not everyone is rude. And not everyone helps themselves to someone else’s wallet.”
Maxim clenched his fists.
“She’s my mother. I can’t abandon her.”
“I’m not asking you to abandon her. I’m asking you to set boundaries. To explain that my bag isn’t a shared cash register for her entertainment.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“How many times have you promised that?” Ekaterina rubbed her forehead, exhausted. “When she called me a barren chicken? When she said I’m a terrible housewife? When she told you you could’ve found a better wife?”
Maxim said nothing.
“Right,” Ekaterina murmured and walked past him into the bedroom.
She pulled a blanket and pillow from the closet and dropped them on the couch.
“You’re sleeping here tonight.”
“Katya…”
“I need to be alone. Please.”
She closed the bedroom door and sat on the bed. Her hands were shaking—not from anger, from fatigue. From realizing this is how people live: one pretends the problem doesn’t exist, the other swallows it until they finally break.
The next morning Ekaterina woke early. Maxim was still asleep on the couch, sprawled awkwardly. She passed by without waking him and stepped out onto the balcony.
Her phone vibrated. A message from Lyudmila Stepanovna.
“Ekaterina, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I got worked up. Let’s forget this whole situation and never bring it up again.”
Ekaterina snorted. Forget it. Of course. As if nothing happened.
She typed back:
“Lyudmila Stepanovna, let’s agree on something right away. My personal belongings are my property. If you need anything, you ask me directly—not through Maxim, not secretly. And I decide whether to give it or not. This is your final warning.”
She sent it—and blocked her mother-in-law. If communication was truly necessary, it could go through her son.
Maxim woke up about half an hour later. He came onto the balcony rubbing his neck.
“Sleep okay?”
“The couch is brutal.”
“That’s temporary,” Ekaterina kept her eyes on the street.
“How temporary?”
“Until we decide how we’re going to live from now on.”
Maxim leaned on the railing beside her.
“I talked to Mom. She promised she won’t ask for money again.”
“Maxim, it’s not about money. It’s about you not seeing boundaries. For you it’s normal that she insults me. Normal that she tells her friends about my salary. Normal to go into my bag and take my card.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“How am I supposed to know?” she turned to him. “You promise, and then you do whatever you want anyway.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then stopped.
“I really won’t.”
“Fine. Then tell your mother she only comes over when invited. Not ‘warns us’—she waits until we ask her ourselves.”
“She’ll be offended.”
“Let her be. This is my home, and I decide who walks in.”
Maxim nodded, though doubt flickered in his eyes.
The next few days passed in strained silence. Maxim tried to act as if nothing had changed, but Ekaterina felt a wall rising between them.
She caught herself thinking she didn’t trust her husband anymore. She took her bag with her even into the bathroom. She locked her cards in a safe and didn’t tell Maxim the code.
And she started thinking about what comes next. Can you build a family with someone who can’t say “no” to his mother? Someone willing to sacrifice his wife’s trust for a few minutes of peace?
The answer came on its own—and she hated it.
A week later, Lyudmila Stepanovna called Maxim and demanded he come over immediately. Something had happened with the pipes—apparently the neighbors were getting flooded.
Maxim rushed to get ready.
“I need to go to Mom’s. She says she flooded the neighbors.”
Ekaterina nodded without looking up from her laptop.
“Okay.”
“You’re not coming?”
“No.”
“But she asked—”
“Maxim,” Ekaterina closed the laptop and looked straight at him. “Your mother, your problem. I’m done participating in this circus.”
He wanted to say something, changed his mind, and left.
Ekaterina stayed alone. She sank onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees.
She used to think love meant being ready to forgive anything. Now she understood: love is when someone respects you enough not to put you in a position where forgiveness is constantly required.
And Maxim still hadn’t learned respect. Not for her, and not for her boundaries.
Her phone vibrated again—this time a message from her father:
“Katya, how are you? You haven’t called in a while.”
Ekaterina smiled. Her parents always sensed when something was wrong.
She replied:
“Dad, can I come over for the weekend? Alone. I need to talk.”
The answer came instantly:
“Of course, sunshine. We’re waiting.”
Ekaterina leaned back and exhaled. The decision had formed on its own.
Some marriages can be saved—but only if both people want to save them. When one pulls one way and the other pulls the opposite, the rope eventually snaps.
And it’s better to let go before it breaks you for good.