“Are you seriously asking me to give my bonus to your mother?”
Veronica stood beside the kitchen table, staring at Igor as though she wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. He had only just come home and hadn’t even taken off his jacket. He tossed his keys beside his phone, walked into the kitchen, and almost immediately announced that he had visited his mother and that they had “an important conversation.”
“Not the entire bonus,” Igor replied irritably. “Don’t twist my words. Mom needs help. Things are difficult for her right now, and she can’t manage everything on her own.”
“You already help her every month.”
“So what? Do you think her pension is huge? You know perfectly well how little she gets. Then there’s her health—medicine, groceries, utility bills. And now the summer house needs repairs.”
“There it is. We’ve finally reached the summer house.”
“Why are you so surprised? She spends half the year there.”
 
“What surprises me is how her summer house became my financial responsibility.”
Igor tugged irritably at his jacket zipper but made no attempt to remove it. He had clearly arrived home prepared for an argument. Judging by his expression, he wasn’t planning to discuss anything with his wife. He intended to present her with a decision that had already been made.
“No one said it was your responsibility. You could simply help someone for once.”
“For once? Igor, your mother has been asking for help ‘just this once’ for years. First she needs a new refrigerator, then help with the utility bills, then money for a trip, and then something else. If you want to give her your money, go ahead. But what does my bonus have to do with it?”
“It has everything to do with it because we’re a family.”
“You and I are a family. Your mother lives separately, and you already send her money every month.”
“That’s exactly why she thinks you could contribute something too. You aren’t a stranger.”
Veronica remained silent for several seconds before slowly asking:
“She thinks that?”
“Yes.”
“So this wasn’t your idea? She actually told you I should give her money?”
Igor looked away.
“She didn’t say you ‘should.’ She said it would be normal for you to help too—especially now that you’ve received a bonus.”
“How does she even know about my bonus?”
“I told her.”
“Why?”
“For God’s sake, Veronica, why should it be a secret? I told my mother that things were going well for you at work. She was happy for you.”
“And immediately started counting my money.”
“She didn’t count anything!”
“Really? Then how did you end up discussing how much of it I could contribute toward repairing her summer house?”
“Because she needs help!” Igor raised his voice. “Why is that so difficult for you to understand? She’s an elderly woman. Life is hard for her, and you happen to have some extra money right now.”
“Extra for whom?”
“For the family.”
“The family again. Why is it that whenever my money is involved, your definition of family always seems to mean your mother?”
Igor finally removed his jacket, tossed it over the back of a chair, and sat down as though preparing for a lengthy negotiation.
“You’ve disliked her from the beginning. You treat every request she makes as an attempt to seize your property.”
“Every request? Don’t start, Igor.”
“Why shouldn’t I? Mom was right when she said you were greedy. You never hesitate to spend money on yourself.”
Veronica let out a brief laugh, but there was no amusement in it.
 
“So now we’ve reached that point.”
“What point?”
“The point where she says unpleasant things about me, and you come home and repeat them word for word. Just like always.”
“Stop blaming her for everything.”
“I’m not blaming her for everything. I’m simply not paying for her summer house. That’s final.”
Igor sprang to his feet.
“This is exactly why she says you don’t respect anyone but yourself! An older person asks for help, and it means nothing to you. All you care about is keeping every penny for yourself!”
Veronica stood as well.
She was thirty-two, and Igor was thirty-five. His mother lived in her own home, but over the course of their marriage, Veronica had learned to recognize the moment when Igor stopped speaking for himself and began repeating the words he had heard from his mother an hour or two earlier.
At first, she had tried explaining everything calmly. Later, she argued. Eventually, she learned to walk into another room and refuse to engage. But this time, it wasn’t about a spiteful comment at a family dinner or advice about how Veronica should dress, cook, or speak to her husband.
Now her mother-in-law was reaching for her salary.
“Your mother can starve for all I care, Igor! I’m not giving her a single penny! Throughout our entire marriage, she has been trying to get her hands on my money. Now she’s even demanding it through you! She isn’t getting anything from me. Remember that—not one penny!”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Igor stared at his wife. “You’re talking about my mother!”
“And do you hear what you’re saying to me? You came home demanding that I hand over my money to a woman who has despised me for years.”
“She doesn’t despise you.”
“Of course not. She merely uses every opportunity to remind me that I’m not good enough for you.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“I am? Fine, let’s remember a few examples. Do you recall the time she counted how much food I put on my plate at her dinner table?”
“She was joking.”
“Three times in a row? What a hilarious joke. First it was, ‘Veronica, are you having a second piece?’ Then, ‘Veronica, are you taking more salad?’ And afterward, she said to you in the kitchen, ‘Igor, your wife has quite an appetite. Does your salary cover it?’ That’s her idea of humor?”
“You always make everything sound as bad as possible.”
 
“I haven’t even finished. What about the time she said, in front of me, that men usually grow after marriage but you had remained stagnant because your wife didn’t inspire you? Do you remember how you spent the following week explaining that I should be gentler and more supportive because your mother supposedly saw our relationship more clearly from the outside?”
“What’s wrong with supporting your husband?”
“You’re doing it again. She insults me, but when we get home, we don’t discuss her behavior. We discuss my flaws.”
Igor turned away, picked up his phone, and looked at the screen even though there were no new messages.
“Those are old stories. Mom has a real problem now.”
“And I have given you a clear answer. No.”
“You didn’t even ask how much she needed.”
“I don’t care how much it is.”
“There!” He pointed accusingly at his wife. “That’s exactly what I mean. You don’t care. You don’t know how much she needs or what she’s dealing with, but you’ve already said no.”
“Because it isn’t my summer house, my renovation, or my request. If you want to help her, then help her.”
“I am helping her!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“She needs more than I can afford to give her right now.”
“Then she’ll have to postpone the renovation.”
“She doesn’t want to postpone it.”
“Then she’ll have to find another solution.”
“What other solution does a pensioner have?”
“I don’t know, Igor. But I won’t allow you to turn my bonus into the solution to her problems.”
For another ten minutes, Igor paced around the kitchen, insisting that Veronica was heartless, that any decent daughter-in-law would have offered to help without being asked, and that no one was demanding the impossible from her.
 
Veronica responded less and less.
She had already understood the most important thing: Igor hadn’t come home to discuss the matter. He believed that if he spoke long enough about his mother’s age, health, and the importance of respecting one’s elders, his wife would eventually give in.
She didn’t.
They went to bed that evening without speaking more than a few words. The next morning, Igor raised the subject again over breakfast.
“Have you at least thought about it?”
“About what?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand.”
“I gave you my answer yesterday.”
“Yesterday, you shouted at me.”
“Because you came home demanding my money.”
“I wasn’t demanding anything.”
Veronica looked at him over the rim of her mug.
“Then why are we discussing it again?”
Igor didn’t answer. He finished his coffee, put his mug in the sink, and left for work.
That evening, the conversation began again. Two days later, it happened once more. Sometimes he started with the summer house. Other times, he talked about how difficult it was for his mother to survive on her pension.
Once, he said she was feeling unwell because the renovation was making her anxious. Veronica asked whether she had seen a doctor. Igor immediately became angry.
“What does a doctor have to do with this? She’s having a difficult time. She’s worried.”
“You said her health was poor.”
“Do you think it’s good?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m asking what exactly is wrong.”
“Does something have to be seriously wrong before you agree to help her?”
“No. But poor health is one thing. Renovating a summer house is another.”
“You have everything separated into neat little categories. How convenient.”
“How else should I approach it? You’re deliberately mixing the two together so I’ll feel ashamed to refuse.”
After that, Igor went into the living room and spent most of the evening talking to his mother on the phone. Veronica didn’t deliberately listen, but she heard her own name several times.
When he returned to the kitchen, his expression was the same as it had been on the first evening.
“Mom says she would never refuse to help you if you asked.”
“I don’t ask her for anything.”
“Because you don’t need anything.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s a very convenient position.”
“It’s the position of a responsible adult. I don’t count other people’s money or make plans for how they should spend it.”
“She isn’t counting your money!”
“She learned about my bonus and, within a few days, decided that part of it should go to her. What would you call that?”
Igor couldn’t find an answer, but he also couldn’t admit that his wife was right. He left the kitchen, turned up the television, and didn’t say another word to her that night.
What bothered Veronica most was that there was nothing truly new about the situation. Only the price had changed.
During the first few years of their marriage, Igor’s mother interfered in smaller matters. She asked why Veronica had bought new boots when her old ones were still “perfectly presentable.” She called her son to complain that Veronica had been too quiet during a visit, which supposedly meant she was deliberately showing disrespect.
After family dinners, she would tell Igor that Veronica put too much food on her plate and ought to “show a little more restraint.” Then she acted genuinely surprised when her daughter-in-law stopped attending those dinners.
Every time, Igor asked Veronica to ignore it.
“You know what Mom is like. She speaks her mind.”
“She says hurtful things.”
“She’s like that with everyone.”
“And that means I have to tolerate it?”
“Not tolerate it. Just stop making such a big deal out of everything.”
Eventually, the discussions grew more serious.
 
Why hadn’t Veronica given Igor money for a purchase when she had earned more than he had that month? Why hadn’t they gone to help at the summer house on the exact weekend his mother had chosen? Why hadn’t Veronica canceled her own plans when her mother-in-law wanted her son nearby?
Almost every incident ended in the same way. His mother told Igor that his wife was pulling him away from his family. Igor returned home and demanded to know why Veronica “always reacted so defensively.”
Yet Veronica had never forbidden him from helping his mother. He transferred money to her, and Veronica knew about it. Sometimes he delivered groceries. Whenever something needed to be transported or repaired, he went.
Veronica never objected. She merely asked him not to turn his support for his mother into an obligation for her.
For a long time, that boundary had been enough.
Veronica remembered the family dinner particularly well. She had arrived at her mother-in-law’s home hungry after work because she had barely eaten all day. She sat at the table with everyone else, served herself a normal portion, and within a minute Igor’s mother looked at her plate.
“Are you taking a second piece?”
At first, Veronica didn’t realize the question was directed at her.
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason. I was only asking.”
A few minutes later came another remark, this time about the salad. Then there was one about the bread. Igor sat beside her, pretending that nothing unusual was happening.
Veronica ate only a little more, pushed her plate away, and didn’t touch the food again.
On their way home, she told her husband:
“It makes me extremely uncomfortable when your mother monitors how much I eat.”
“She wasn’t monitoring you.”
“She commented on my plate three times.”
“She merely noticed what you were eating.”
“Igor, if my mother stared at your plate every time we visited and asked whether you had taken too much, would you enjoy it?”
“You’re comparing completely different things again.”
“How are they different? It’s exactly the same situation.”
“Because Mom wasn’t trying to offend you.”
“I’m not saying she sat there planning how to hurt me. I’m saying her behavior made me uncomfortable.”
 
Instead of simply acknowledging his wife’s feelings, Igor spent almost twenty minutes explaining that his mother had a particular way of communicating, that she had grown up in a different era, and that it would be easier for Veronica to ignore such comments.
The following day, after speaking to his mother, he added that Veronica needed to be less sensitive because “not every question is an attack.”
That was the first time Veronica realized that she had tried to discuss his mother’s unpleasant behavior, yet somehow the conversation ended with the conclusion that she was the one who needed to change.
The same thing happened repeatedly.
Once, her mother-in-law asked how much Veronica’s new handbag had cost. Veronica declined to tell her. That evening, Igor said his mother was offended by her “pointless secrecy.”
On another occasion, his mother remarked that Veronica worked too much while “the money still disappeared somewhere,” even though she had no idea how much Veronica earned or how she spent it. A few days later, Igor cautiously suggested that married couples ought to report their personal purchases to one another in greater detail.
“Did you come up with that yourself, or did your mother suggest it?” Veronica asked him.
“What difference does it make if it’s a reasonable idea?”
“A significant difference. I don’t want to live with three people in this marriage when the third person resides in another apartment.”
Igor was offended by that remark and spent the next two days repeating that his wife was unfair to his mother.
There had been direct insults too. They weren’t loud or dramatic enough to cause an immediate break in contact. They were smaller and stickier—the kind of remarks that clung to a person afterward.
His mother could say that Veronica had become “too clever since her promotion.” In front of her son, she once commented that he had married a woman who “knew her own worth better than she knew her husband’s.”
Another time, Veronica refused to spend her only free day at the summer house. Igor returned from his mother’s home with a ready-made conclusion.
“She thinks you’re deliberately pulling me away from my family.”
 
“Do you think that too?”
“I don’t know. But sometimes it does look that way from the outside.”
Veronica hadn’t answered him.
She simply realized that her mother-in-law didn’t even need to insult her directly. All she had to do was wait until she was alone with her son and give him her version of events. Igor would bring it home himself.
That was why the current dispute over the bonus hurt more than everything that had happened before. In the past, his mother had judged Veronica’s clothes, eating habits, personality, and treatment of her husband.
Now she had decided she could also judge how much control Veronica deserved over the money she earned. Worse still, she had discussed it with her son rather than with Veronica, and Igor came home already convinced that his wife needed to be persuaded.
Veronica had finally had enough.
A week after their first argument, Igor placed his phone in front of her. The screen showed an estimate for the renovation.
“Look at this.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Just look! Mom has already found out approximately how much everything will cost. If we give her part of the money, she can begin.”
“Who exactly do you mean by ‘we’?”
“You and me.”
“No. You can contribute your share. There won’t be one from me.”
“Are you deliberately humiliating me?”
“How?”
“You’re making it sound as though I’m begging you for charity!”
“You’re asking for money. I’m refusing. Where is the humiliation?”
“I’m not asking for myself!”
 
“That changes nothing.”
“Of course it does! If I wanted money for some useless toy, I would understand your reaction. But this is about my mother.”
“Igor, you’ve said the word ‘mother’ so many times that you apparently expect it to open my banking app automatically.”
“You really are…”
He stopped himself.
“I’m what?”
“Greedy.”
Veronica pushed his phone back toward him.
“Then live with your greedy wife and leave her money alone.”
“What if I don’t want to live like this?”
“That’s your decision to make.”
Igor glared at her.
“Mom was right. You have no respect for me.”
“And your mother works very hard to make sure you reach that conclusion as often as possible.”
“There you go blaming her again!”
“Igor, you have approached me with the same demand five times in one week, always after speaking to her. How else am I supposed to interpret that?”
He snatched up his phone and walked away.
After that, the conflict stopped being a single argument and seemed to take up permanent residence in their home. It was present at breakfast, in their messages, and in the evenings while they watched television.
Igor could behave normally for half a day and then suddenly ask:
“Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind?”
“I’m sure.”
And the entire argument would begin again.
By the end of the second week, he no longer concealed the fact that his mother was waiting for him to deliver a result.
“She keeps asking when we’re going to decide.”
“We have already decided.”
“You decided for both of us.”
“I decided what to do with my money.”
“That isn’t how marriage works.”
 
“And is it normal in a marriage to decide how your wife’s bonus will be spent without her consent?”
“I haven’t decided anything!”
“You already told your mother she would receive the money. Now you’re trying to pressure me into paying so you won’t have to admit that you promised something you had no right to promise.”
Igor fell silent.
Veronica immediately knew she had uncovered the truth.
“You already promised her, didn’t you?”
“I told her I would speak to you.”
“No. If that were all you said, she wouldn’t be asking when ‘we’ were going to decide.”
“I told her I didn’t think you would refuse.”
“So you effectively promised her my money.”
“Why do you keep calling it only your money? We’re husband and wife!”
“Fine. Tomorrow I’ll call my mother and tell her that your salary will pay for her renovation. Would that be acceptable?”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“Why not?”
“Because your mother isn’t in the same situation.”
“And if she were?”
“Then we would discuss it.”
“Exactly. We would discuss it. You wouldn’t promise her my money behind my back.”
Igor slammed his palm against the table and stormed out of the kitchen.
For the first time, Veronica seriously considered that the dispute had stopped being about the summer house long ago. It wasn’t even about the bonus anymore.
Igor cared more about avoiding the admission that his wife had the right to say no to his mother than he cared about preserving peace in his marriage.
During the third week, he began visiting his mother more frequently. He came home late and nearly always in a bad mood. Sometimes he demonstratively refused to eat the meals Veronica had prepared. One evening, he spent the entire time in another room, responding to her with single words.
She didn’t follow him or try to make peace. She was tired.
The situation was perfectly simple: his money was his decision, and her bonus was hers. Yet Igor seemed incapable of accepting that his wife would not obey simply because his mother wanted something.
On Saturday, he returned from another visit and announced as soon as he entered:
“Mom has had to postpone the renovation because of us.”
“Because of us?”
“Yes. She doesn’t know how much money she can count on.”
“She can count on your help. I told you that three weeks ago.”
“That isn’t enough for her.”
“Then she doesn’t have enough money for the renovation.”
“Are you deliberately speaking so calmly to provoke me?”
“No. I’m simply tired of repeating myself.”
“And I’m tired of living with someone who doesn’t care about my mother!”
“Don’t change the subject. I care about her as a human being, but I’m not obligated to finance everything she wants.”
“Everything she wants? She’s trying to make the summer house livable!”
 
“Yes. That is what she wants. It isn’t what I want.”
“Her health isn’t what it used to be!”
“Then she definitely shouldn’t start a renovation she can’t afford.”
Igor stared at her for several seconds.
“You’re impossible.”
“The only thing that’s impossible with me is taking my money without my permission.”
This time, he left the apartment and didn’t return until late at night. Veronica didn’t ask where he had been. She already knew.
By the fourth week, they spoke almost exclusively about practical matters: what groceries to buy, who would collect an order, and who would pay the regular household bills. Even then, Igor found ways to drag his resentment into their exchanges.
“Since you’re so strict about separating our money now, you can pay for that yourself,” he said when Veronica reminded him about something they needed for the apartment.
“All right.”
He had clearly expected an argument, but she gave him none.
“That’s it?”
“What else is there?”
“Nothing.”
It irritated him that his pressure wasn’t working. Veronica could see that.
In the past, she had usually been the first to start a conversation after an argument because she hated living in a tense atmosphere. Igor had grown accustomed to that. Now she stopped doing it.
She was no longer frightened by the prospect of spending several hours—or even an entire evening—in silence. What frightened her far more was the thought of surrendering and allowing demands like this to become a normal part of their marriage.
Exactly one month after their first conversation, Igor came home earlier than usual. Once again, he didn’t remove his jacket. He stood in the kitchen doorway and said:
“I’m going to ask you one last time.”
Veronica put her phone aside.
“Don’t bother asking. My answer hasn’t changed.”
“Then listen carefully. Either you transfer the money to Mom and we put an end to this, or I’m leaving.”
For a moment, Veronica simply stared at him. Then she couldn’t help laughing.
 
“Are you serious?”
“I don’t find this funny.”
“I do, at this point. You’ve spent a month following me around over someone else’s summer house as though it were a matter of life and death. Now you’re giving me an ultimatum over my own bonus.”
“This ultimatum is about your attitude toward my family.”
“Toward your mother.”
“She is my family!”
“Then what am I?”
“If you truly considered yourself part of my family, you wouldn’t force me to choose between you and my mother!”
Veronica stopped laughing.
“I have never asked you to choose. You decided that my refusal to give her money meant I was choosing against her.”
“Stop explaining everything again. It’s very simple: either you give her the money, or I leave.”
“Then leave.”
Igor clearly hadn’t expected such a quick answer.
“What?”
“The door is over there. You set the condition. I’ve made my choice.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“Maybe I will. But I still won’t give your mother my money.”
“So your bonus is more important to you than your husband?”
“No. My right to decide what happens to the money I earn is more important to me. And you’ve just shown me exactly how little our marriage is worth to you.”
“Stop twisting my words!”
“I’m not twisting anything. You said that either I pay for your mother’s wishes or you leave. So go.”
Igor spun around and marched into the bedroom. A minute later, Veronica heard the wardrobe doors opening.
She remained in the kitchen. She didn’t follow him, ask him to calm down, or remind him how many years they had spent together. He knew all of that as well as she did.
Ten minutes later, Igor returned carrying a large travel bag.
“You aren’t even going to try to stop me?”
“You’re an adult.”
“Excellent. Absolutely wonderful. Don’t call me later and complain that you’re miserable on your own.”
“I won’t.”
 
“Do you think I’ll have nowhere to go? I’ll move in with my mother. At least I won’t have to explain to her what a normal family means.”
Veronica said nothing.
Igor placed his bag beside the front door and unexpectedly walked toward the refrigerator.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? We bought the groceries together.”
He opened the refrigerator, removed several packages, and began placing them in a shopping bag.
Veronica watched him in silence. After a month of speeches about duty, respect, and family, the sight was so petty that she no longer had the energy to argue.
“Take them,” she said. “If you can’t leave without them.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t take anything else from you. From now on, all my money will go to my mother. Every penny. You wanted us to divide everything, so that’s exactly what you’re getting.”
“That was your decision, not mine.”
“Yes, it was my decision! And you’ll soon realize exactly what you’ve lost.”
“Igor, you’ve said enough. Go.”
He picked up his luggage and the bag of groceries. He began saying something else about her greed, but Veronica opened the front door and stepped aside.
“I said go.”
Igor walked out onto the landing. This time, he didn’t continue the argument. He merely announced that he would stay with his mother and had no intention of returning until Veronica “learned to respect his family.”
Veronica closed the door.
His coffee mug from that morning remained in the kitchen. His jacket was gone, while her phone and bank card lay on the table. The bonus was still in her account, but she felt no satisfaction at all.
The following day, Igor sent a short message confirming that he had moved in with his mother. He also reminded Veronica that, from now on, he would spend all his money exclusively on her.
Veronica read the message twice and put down her phone.
She didn’t reply. Instead, she gathered the toiletries Igor had left in the bathroom, placed them in a bag, and left it in the entryway. Then she opened the refrigerator and looked at the half-empty shelf left after his departure.
For the first time in a month, she thought neither about her mother-in-law nor about the bonus. She thought about the fact that their life together had truly ended.
 
It hadn’t ended because of an amount of money that no one had ever even specified. Nor had it ended because of repairs to a summer house.
For an entire month, Igor had demanded that she surrender. When he failed, he chose to return to the very person from whom the demand had originated.
Veronica kept the money she had earned, but she was also left with an empty half of the wardrobe and the need to grow accustomed to living alone in an apartment they had once shared.
Igor stayed with his mother and did exactly what he had promised: he began giving her all his available money.
But that was no longer Veronica’s concern.
She no longer had to participate in their conversations about the summer house, listen to their calculations, or endure endless lectures about who owed what to whom.
Several days later, Igor wrote again. He said she still had an opportunity to fix everything if she would only “stop being so stubborn.”
Veronica didn’t argue.
She replied with a single sentence: she would not give her bonus to his mother.
Igor sent no more messages that evening.