— Yanochka, dear, why didn’t you tell me right away that you now have money?
— Hello, Yulia Konstantinovna. I don’t understand what you mean?
— How so? Kirill said that your mother transferred a nice sum of money to your account.
Yana was a terrible careerist. Work consumed her completely: early mornings, night reports, endless meetings. Friends joked that her middle name was “Overwork,” and her personal life had long been replaced by a schedule full of deadlines.
Kirill, her boyfriend, was her mirror image — just as much a workaholic, falling asleep with his laptop on his lap. Their relationship resembled a business partnership: rare meetings, short calls between meetings, discussing not romantic plans but quarterly reports.
And one morning Yana felt something was wrong — a delay. The test confirmed her worst — or best? — fears: two lines. Pregnancy.
— This is impossible, — she whispered, looking in the mirror. — I didn’t plan to have a child so soon… What about becoming a department head? That was her dream…
But life, as always, made its adjustments.
The first person Yana decided to tell was her mother. Aleksandra Dmitrievna listened silently to her daughter, then said:
— This is not what you dreamed of, is it?
— Yes, — Yana sighed heavily.
— I’ll help you. You must keep the baby. You’re twenty-five — the perfect age to have a child.
— Thank you, Mom. You know I can’t be without work.
Kirill found out about his beloved’s pregnancy neither in the kitchen, nor in a café, nor in bed. He was standing in a conference room, just finishing a tough Zoom call with clients when a short message from Yana popped up on his phone screen:
“We are going to be parents soon.”
At first, he didn’t understand and read it again. Then he left the conference room and called.
— Is it true? — he whispered.
— Absolutely, — Yana answered calmly. — I took tests. Everything is confirmed. What will we do?
Silence. Then suddenly:
— Yana, let’s get married. Today. Well, okay—not today, but soon. We don’t need a big celebration. Just us, the registry office, and dinner with family.
— Are you sure? Not just because…
— I’ve wanted to propose to you for a long time, but work completely consumed me… We are adults and must take responsibility for our actions. And yes, I love you very much, in case you forgot.
A week later Yana and Kirill stood in the registry office. No white extravagant dress and no banquet for two hundred people. Just the registry and a couple of photos against a dusty floral arch. They exchanged rings, smiled, and went to a restaurant where their parents were already waiting.
At the table were only the closest: Yana’s parents — Aleksandra Dmitrievna and Viktor Nikolaevich, Kirill’s parents — Yulia Konstantinovna and Vasily Petrovich, and Kirill’s older sister Natasha. The atmosphere was cozy — salads, snacks, champagne, and conversations about everything.
Yulia Konstantinovna, a woman with a straight back and a slightly haughty look, poured herself a glass and suddenly said:
— Newlyweds, a wedding, a baby — that’s all wonderful. But now it’s time to think about housing. Where will you live? Renting an apartment with a child is not an option.
Yana tensed slightly. She feared the talk about living together and the “help” of a mother-in-law would start, but Kirill was calm.
— Yana and I have already decided. We’re taking out a mortgage.
Yana looked at her husband in surprise and raised her eyebrows:
— When did we manage that?
— Wow, — exclaimed Yulia Konstantinovna, not noticing her daughter-in-law’s reaction, — Are you sure? The interest rates are so high now…
— We’ll manage. I have a stable job. I calculated everything, — Kirill answered confidently and looked at Yana. — And we want to start fresh, by ourselves.
For the first time that evening, Yana relaxed. He said exactly what she wanted to hear.
— Well then… here’s to you, — Yulia Konstantinovna nodded and raised her glass.
— To us, — Yana quietly added, smiling from the bottom of her heart.
The apartment was in a new residential complex, with finished light-colored interiors and a view of a small park. When Yana first stepped inside, she knew: the apartment was perfect.
She and Kirill furnished the apartment gradually: first buying a comfortable bed, a sofa for the living room, and a dining table — where soon they would feed their little daughter.
Then they added details: a throw, soft colorful pillows, plant pots with green plants, a floor lamp, Yana’s favorite bergamot-scented candles. Yana happily shopped for curtains, pillows, rugs — all things she never had time for before.
Kirill immersed himself more and more in work — sometimes until late at night. He worked hard to pay off the loan as quickly as possible. Besides, he wanted Yana to worry about nothing and for their daughter to be born in a home ready for her arrival.
Yana was not upset — she understood. Despite nausea, sleepiness, and heightened smell sensitivity, she continued working from home. Her boss was understanding: some tasks could be done remotely, which was a lifesaver.
In the last months of pregnancy, Yana hardly went to the office. And she didn’t want to: the apartment already carried the atmosphere of waiting for the daughter. Booties, tiny bodysuits, a crib in the corner of the bedroom, and an album with the name “Anechka” on the cover. Yana already knew what she would name her daughter. After her grandmother Anna — a woman with a kind heart and incredible strength, who had passed away only three years ago. When Yana said the name, Kirill just nodded:
— Perfect. She’ll be Anechka.
The girl was born exactly on time, early in the morning, with light fluffy hair and a serious look, as if she already understood a lot. Kirill held her for the first time in the maternity hospital and couldn’t hold back tears — he hugged the tiny body tightly to his chest, repeating:
— Hello, daughter… I’ve been waiting for you.
Life changed. Fatigue became constant, the rhythm intermittent, but every evening, when Anechka fell asleep and Yana leaned on Kirill’s shoulder, they both understood: everything was right, everything for the best.
Yulia Konstantinovna appeared in their lives quietly: without fuss, without remarks, without reproaches. She simply called one morning and said:
— Yana, I’ll be nearby today. I’ll stop by and take a walk with Anechka. You need to rest.
Yana was surprised and couldn’t refuse. She really wanted to sleep for at least a couple of hours in a row or, simply, to drink coffee slowly from a clean cup. From that day on, Yulia Konstantinovna’s visits became regular. She came several mornings a week, when Yana was still in her robe feeding the baby, smiling at the door:
— Don’t rush, I’ll wait, — and really didn’t hurry her daughter-in-law.
Her mother-in-law took the stroller, put on comfortable ballet flats, and went out with Anechka to the park. She walked for a long time until the granddaughter woke up so Yana could manage more. In that time, Yana managed to do laundry, cook something, work on her laptop, and even lie down a bit.
— Yulia Konstantinovna, what would I do without you? — Yana said when her mother-in-law returned, carefully taking Anya out of the stroller.
— I’m just a grandmother who loves her granddaughter, — the mother-in-law smiled modestly.
— Just a grandmother who knows a young mother needs fresh air too. Not only the baby.
And most importantly — Yulia Konstantinovna didn’t interfere with advice. She didn’t teach Yana how to hold the baby, what to feed her, how much she should sleep. She drank tea, discussed the news and the granddaughter, and whenever she felt Yana was tired, she would say:
— That’s it, I’m going. You rest. And don’t you dare wash the floors, hear me? Rest.
— I promise, — Yana smiled and really sat on the couch with a throw and a cup of coffee.
Kirill was initially wary of this new “regimen.”
— She doesn’t annoy you? — he definitely knew his mother’s character.
— On the contrary. I only now realized I have a great mother-in-law. Not intrusive or rude. She just helps.
— You became friends with her? — Kirill smirked.
— You could say that…
And everything would have been fine, until one day Kirill let slip to his mother that Yana’s mother had sold an inherited apartment and gave the proceeds to Yana. Aleksandra Dmitrievna had long wanted to do this but was waiting for the three-year period to pass.
— Yanochka, dear, why didn’t you tell me right away that you now have money?
— Hello, Yulia Konstantinovna. I don’t understand what you mean?
— How so? Kirill said your mother transferred a nice sum to your account.
— Ah… now I understand. I already registered a one-room apartment on the outskirts. And I left the rest of the money in an interest-bearing account. After all, three years in maternity leave… You never know what might happen.
— You bought an apartment? How wonderful. Natasha just needs an apartment. You and Kirill have housing, and she doesn’t. She can live in your apartment, okay? You already have it too good, — Yulia Konstantinovna said kindly.
— Yes, of course, no problem, — Yana answered calmly, pressing the phone to her shoulder to pick up the daughter. — I was just going to rent out the apartment. But for Natasha it will be a family-friendly fifteen thousand rubles.
— What fifteen thousand? I thought it would be free, — the mother-in-law replied shocked.
— I was thinking of renting it for twenty thousand. That will be my contribution for the mortgage apartment where Kirill and I live now. It’s hard for him alone.
— Then why don’t you pay off the mortgage fully? Are you tight with money? — Yulia Konstantinovna hissed.
— I don’t recognize you, — Yana said surprised. — No, not tight. But in my calculation, we will have two apartments. And if something happens, where will Anechka and I go? To my parents?
— Oh, so that’s it! You’re already thinking about divorcing my son?
— Not at all. I’m thinking about the future so that my daughter has her own place too. Why not, if there’s an opportunity? — the daughter-in-law replied sharply.
— I hear you! — Yulia Konstantinovna said on leaving and hung up.
Yana, not understanding what was going on, told Kirill everything.
— I didn’t want to upset you when you said my mother was helping you. I thought the arrival of the granddaughter had changed her… but it turned out it hadn’t.
— Really? — Yana was surprised by her husband’s admission.
— My mother never helped me, so I found her behavior strange. Besides, Aleksandra Dmitrievna said at the wedding that you inherited an apartment from your grandmother, so she remembered that. And you overturned that. Of course, my mother wants to arrange life for her daughter, but you did the right thing. I don’t blame you.
— Okay… I didn’t expect such a confession from you, — Yana said with effort.
From that day, Yulia Konstantinovna no longer came to see the granddaughter except for rare and big holidays like birthdays and New Year. Yana worked part-time for a year and a half, and when Anya went to kindergarten, she returned to her old job.
Together, Yana and Kirill quickly paid off the mortgage, and Yulia Konstantinovna tried more than once to ask for money and buy expensive equipment for herself or Natasha, but nothing worked out. Kirill immediately explained that they would not lend money and bought them what he thought necessary.