“Dema, did you use my card?” Lida was studying her bank statement with a tight, focused expression. “There’s a four-thousand charge from some cosmetics store.”
“No, of course not,” her husband replied.
“And here’s another three thousand at ‘Golden Thread,’” Lida went on. “All these purchases were made during the day—while we were at work. And the strangest part? They were made from your phone.”
Demid shrugged, but then his face tensed.
Inside Lida’s head, the puzzle pieces began to click together. For the past month, Alina Valentinovna—Demid’s mother—had been showing up several times a week, letting herself in with her spare key.
That evening, while they were visiting friends, Lida’s fears were confirmed: a new message popped up—3,000 rubles spent at a perfume shop.
“Dema, we need to go home. Now,” she said.
When they got back, they found Alina Valentinovna in the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re back!” she chirped. “Perfect timing—I just cooked dinner.”
“Mom…” Demid looked unsettled. “Did you use my phone today?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I wanted to call a friend.”
“And maybe you also used our bank cards?” Lida couldn’t hold back anymore. “Three thousand just got charged for perfume.”
“My dear, are you accusing me of stealing?” Alina Valentinovna turned to her son. “Dema, do you hear this?”
“Mom… is it true?” Demid asked quietly.
“I’m not a thief!” Alina Valentinovna practically shouted. “I have every right! I’m your mother, Dema! I raised you! Am I really not allowed a few little things?”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
“So you’re admitting you took the money?” Lida pressed.
“I didn’t do anything like that. I simply used your card a few times,” Alina Valentinovna said with icy calm. “That’s normal in a family—people help each other.”
“Help?” Lida scoffed. “You call it helping to take someone’s money without asking?”
“What do you mean ‘someone’s’?” Alina snapped. “Dema is my son! And you’re his wife! That means everything is shared!”
“Mom,” Demid finally intervened, “you can’t do that. You should’ve at least asked.”
“Asked?” Alina shot back. “She wouldn’t have given it to me! She’s stingy!”
The next day, Lida realized Demid wasn’t going to solve anything—he was too afraid of upsetting his mother. So she decided to handle it herself.
But someone beat her to it: Demid’s father, Sergey Petrovich—Alina Valentinovna’s ex-husband. A message flashed on Demid’s phone:
“Son, we need to meet.”
When they saw each other, Sergey Petrovich didn’t waste time.
“Your mother called,” he said flatly. “Complaining about your wife. She took money from your wife’s card without permission. That’s not a ‘family conflict.’ That’s theft.”
“Dad, don’t start…”
“She’s always been like this. Have you forgotten why we divorced? She believed she could spend my money however she wanted. And now she’s doing the same thing to your wife. I’m telling you—be a man and protect your family. Otherwise you’re going to lose it.”
That conversation wouldn’t leave Demid alone.
When he opened the apartment door later, he heard raised voices. Lida and his mother were arguing again.
“I just wanted to look up a recipe online!” Alina Valentinovna protested. “Why can’t I use Dema’s phone?”
“Because the last time you used his phone, three thousand rubles disappeared from my card!” Lida fired back.
Demid walked into the kitchen.
“Mom,” he said, shaking his head, “why are you lying? I talked to Dad today.”
Alina Valentinovna’s face changed instantly.
“With him… with your father?” she hissed. “And what exactly did he tell you?”
“The truth,” Demid answered. “Why you two divorced. How you treated what belonged to him.”
“Enough, Mom,” he said, voice firm now. “Dad was right. You’re taking money from my wife’s card without permission. That’s wrong.”
“Oh, so you’re against me too?” Alina snapped. “She turned you against your own mother!”
“No one turned me against anyone,” Demid said. “I’m just seeing what’s happening.”
“So you choose her over me?”
“I’m not choosing between you,” he replied. “I’m saying taking someone else’s money without asking is not okay.”
“Someone else’s?” Alina’s eyes widened. “You’re calling your wife’s money ‘someone else’s’—for me?”
“Yes, Mom. It’s Lida’s money. She earned it.”
“I’m leaving!” Alina Valentinovna jumped up from her chair. “And don’t you dare call me again!”
She stormed out and slammed the door so hard the walls seemed to shake.
“I’m sorry,” Demid said quietly to Lida. “I should’ve understood sooner.”
“It’s not your fault,” Lida replied. “Your mother knows how to manipulate people.”
“I’m deleting your card from my phone,” Demid said. “And I’m taking our apartment keys back from Mom.”
Lida smiled and wrapped her arms around him.