Ekaterina Borisovna, despite being 65 years old, looked as if time simply passed her by. It seemed the years held no power over her — not a single wrinkle, not a hint of fading. Her skin glowed with health, her hair was styled with impeccable precision, and her eyes still sparkled with youthful energy and ambition. She could easily be mistaken for about forty-five years old, no more. And the scent that enveloped the space around her was also from the elite world — subtle, deep, a masterpiece of perfumery art that seemed to speak of status on its own. In her hands, as a constant attribute of her image, always gleamed a new designer handbag — emphasizing that she was not just a woman, but a woman with class, taste, and standing.
Today it was a refined clutch in a rich, striking fuchsia color — bright, daring, just like Ekaterina Borisovna herself. She was sitting in the kitchen of her son and his wife, comfortably leaning back in a chair with a delicate cup filled with aromatic coffee in her hands. Everything about her appearance breathed sophistication, even the way she held the cup — fingers gracefully curved, gaze slightly detached, as if looking down on the everyday scene from the heights of her life experience.
«Alenushka,» she said with a slight tone of condescension, barely touching the edge of the cup with her lips, «your coffee… well, of course, it’s drinkable. More than that — it’s acceptable. But that new barista downtown, you know, in that boutique café overlooking the fountain… mm, that’s not just coffee, that’s aesthetics. That’s art. You must try it. Believe me, it’s worth the money spent.»
At that moment, Alena was standing by the sink, slowly sorting through plates, rinsing them with the tired skill that comes after an endless cycle of household chores. Her gaze was fixed on the window, beyond which stretched a gray, gloomy yard, like a reflection of her mood. Outside, water dripped from the roof, trees were bare, and the sky was tightly covered with clouds.
«Thank you, Ekaterina Borisovna,» she replied calmly, though inside she felt her heart tighten, «but coffee for five hundred rubles is not my level of luxury. My jeans are already three years old, and they’re not new, and my sneakers long forgot what color they actually are. No, I can’t afford such luxuries.»
At that moment, her husband, Damir, burst into the kitchen. He had just come out of the bathroom, his hair still a bit damp, skin fresh, and his body carried a light scent of an expensive cologne he had bought literally yesterday with change after sending money to his father. His entrance was always dramatic, as if he were stepping onto a stage.
«Mom, hi!» he kissed his mother-in-law on the cheek, demonstrating his love and attention. «Alena, darling!» His kiss on her head was quick, almost formal, but done with a smile. «How was your day?»
«As usual,» she sighed, wiping her hands on a towel. «Got Alina ready for kindergarten, then worked remotely, then went shopping… And you?»
«Great!» he blossomed as if he’d just won a prize. «Got paid today,» he pulled out a new shiny gadget from his pocket as if it were a symbol of his success. «Already transferred everything to Dad, as agreed. Good thing he’s accumulating interest there. Soon another trip to the sea!»
«Oh, the sea!» Ekaterina Borisovna exclaimed, enlivening. «Last time in Turkey was just wonderful! Damirchik, you haven’t forgotten that I need a new pareo? The one I wore last year is out of fashion. Totally not trendy.»
«Of course, Mom, don’t worry, I promised,» he waved his hand as if it were about a couple of socks. «I’ll tell Dad to set aside from my salary. We’ll sort it out.»
Alena felt something tighten inside her. Again. His salary, four times higher than hers, was once more sinking into a bottomless well where lived Mom’s Botox, Dad’s investments, and dreams of the sea that never came true for her and their daughter.
Two years ago, at a family dinner, her father-in-law boasted that interest was being credited daily to his account from invested funds.
«You can make good money,» he said, sipping beer with a businesslike look.
«Son, you have a child,» Ekaterina Borisovna began, sitting on the edge of a chair. «You’ll need money. Transfer your salary to Dad, and then he’ll give you more.»
«Why not?» Damir agreed without bothering to discuss it with his wife.
Thus, cleverly, the husband’s money began flowing into Timofey Gavrilovich’s bank card.
Alena saw her husband rarely — only once a year when they flew to the sea. But even then, she felt his salary was much higher than what returned to their family.
«Honey…» she finally dared, when her mother-in-law went to the living room to call her beautician. «Can we talk? About money… about this… about the distribution. Alina is about to start school, we need uniforms, textbooks… And we… we’re barely getting by.»
«Alen, what are you again?» he frowned, opening a bottle of expensive craft beer. «We agreed! Dad knows finances better, he invests my money with interest. These are investments in our vacation! And the rest… we manage. You’re great!»
«Manage?» Alena’s voice trembled. «Damir, I buy groceries on sale, sew dresses for Alina myself because new ones are unaffordable. I haven’t been to the hairdresser for six months! And your mother bragged about new Botox and massage courses! And that’s with our vacation money?»
«That’s her money!» he snapped. «Dad allocates it from mine. She’s a mother! And she’s right to take care of herself. Are you jealous?»
«Jealous?!» Alena almost choked with indignation. «I’m not jealous, I’m outraged! It’s unfair! Your parents live lavishly at the expense of our future vacation! And we go hungry ten months a year!»
«Don’t dramatize,» he took a sip of beer. «Everything’s fine. We’ll go to Sochi for New Year — you’ll forget everything. Dad said this year the interest would be special.»
Alena turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears of helplessness and anger. The «special interest» that would again dissolve into Ekaterina Borisovna’s branded rags.
A week later, Alena stopped by her in-laws to leave Alina with them for the weekend — a request they regularly made, especially when some «important» purchase or family event was planned.
Timofey Gavrilovich opened the door himself, his face tightening slightly when he saw his daughter-in-law instead of his son.
«Alena, come in!» he tried to be welcoming, but awkwardness slipped into his voice.
From the living room came excited voices of Ekaterina Borisovna and her daughter — sister-in-law Katya.
«No, thank you, Timofey Gavrilovich, I’m in a hurry,» Alena started, but suddenly heard her mother-in-law’s voice:
«Mom, can you imagine, I saw that handbag at Lena’s! It’s so juicy! The color — just wow!»
«Dear, didn’t I tell you about the fur coat?» came the velvet, confident voice of Ekaterina Borisovna. «The fur — mink, but the best, unlike Marya Ivanovna’s. Boris, how much has my son accumulated on his card?» she shouted loudly from the room.
«There’s no money now,» Timofey Gavrilovich quietly replied, heading to his wife. «Damir will transfer the next salary, then…»
«Damir?» disdain rang in Ekaterina Borisovna’s voice. «Yes, his money is always on time. Tell him we urgently need it. This fur coat is the last one, it might be sold! And for Katya, a bag — she has to look decent at university!»
Alena stood by the door as if nailed to the floor. At that moment she realized — this was not just injustice. This was a system. And she had no place in it.
Timofey Gavrilovich, not hiding embarrassment, muttered, rubbing his hands together:
«Alright, alright…» he squeezed out, as if every word was hard to say. «As soon as Damir’s money comes…»
Alena stood by the door, her body stiffened, her hands clenched into fists by themselves. Inside, everything boiled like a volcano ready to erupt. The words echoed in her ears, words she had heard many times, but today, for the first time, they took on a new, terrible meaning.
Her husband’s salary — money that was supposed to be the foundation of their stability, their daughter’s future, apartment repairs, new tires for the car, and a normal dinner — had already been allocated even before it arrived. For a fur coat, a bag, the next «urgent» whims of her mother-in-law and sister-in-law. And her? She had been counting pennies for kindergarten, utilities, and medicine when Alina caught a cold.
«Alena? Are you still here?» Timofey Gavrilovich peeked into the hallway, as if not understanding why she hadn’t left yet.
But Alena no longer heard. She didn’t remember how she got outside, how the door slammed shut, how the stairs changed to asphalt. In her head, a storm rumbled: «We urgently need… as soon as Damir’s money comes…»
And only now, for the first time in all these years, it dawned on her — no interest, no investments, no future. This was not help, not budget planning, not family care. This was robbery. Cold, cynical, planned for years ahead. Her husband, her father-in-law and mother-in-law, his sister — they spent their common future as if it belonged to them.
The in-laws and sister-in-law lived at their expense as if it were their own, getting everything they wanted, once a year «gifting» them a trip to Turkey as if it were a merciful pardon for their debts.
All day, Alena paced the apartment, unable to find peace. Every step was heavy, every thought piercing like a needle. She thought about all those years, how she economized, how she mended things, how she denied herself and her daughter so that «everything would be fine.» And they? They bought fur coats, bags, massages, and Botox, laughed, boasted, and lived like in a fairy tale.
When Damir came home, she met him in the hallway — without a smile, without a greeting, with emptiness in her eyes and fire inside.
«Hi, darling!» he was, as always, in a great mood, undressing. «You look… pale…»
«Damir,» her voice was metallic, cold as steel. «Your parents are waiting for your next salary. Urgently.»
«Well, yeah,» he raised his eyebrows in surprise. «Dad called. Mom has some plans. You know, women…»
«Plans for a fur coat. Mink. And a new bag for Katya. Very ‘juicy’ and ‘in trend,'» Alena blurted out, looking him straight in the eyes as if trying to find remnants of conscience there.
Damir was embarrassed. He looked away, shivered as if from cold, and muttered barely audibly:
«Alen… well… they’re family. Mom needs a fur coat, winter will be cold. And Katya… she’s a girl, wants to look nice. Dad said it’s important.»
«More important than winter boots for Alina?» Alena’s voice trembled, but steel rang in it. «More important than the new refrigerator that’s been creaking for three years? More important than my salary, which barely covers noodles and potatoes? Your salary is four times mine, Damir! Four times! And it all goes to keep your mother young and your sister showing off! And we? We wait for some fairy-tale interest and fly to Turkey once a year?»
«This is not charity!» he flared up, feeling his confidence collapse. «My family helps us save!»
«They’re saving for fur coats for themselves!» Alena shouted, and her voice echoed through the apartment. «This is not investment, Damir! This is deceit! You’re deceiving me! You’re feeding your family at my expense! At our daughter’s expense!»
«You don’t understand finances!» he yelled, trying to avoid the answer. «Dad knows better! And enough with the hysteria! They are my parents, I owe them! If they need something — I will help! That’s normal!»
«Normal?» Alena laughed, and her laughter sounded creepy — bitter, angry, almost insane. «Is it normal that your mother at 65 spends our money on Botox and brands? Is it normal that your student sister flaunts bags more expensive than my monthly salary? Is it normal that I have to deny myself and my child to pay for their glamorous life?»
«They don’t spend it all!» Damir weakly defended himself. «Interest… vacation…»
«What vacation, Damir?! The one they mercifully allow us once a year? Take a calculator and count how much we spend on it, and how much you send to your father thinking about the fairy-tale interest!» Her voice broke. «I’m tired, Damir… I can’t anymore.»
«What do you want?» he grumbled, feeling the situation getting out of control.
«I think…» her voice trembled, and she took a deep breath as if before jumping into icy water. «I’m thinking about divorce, Damir.»
His eyes widened in shock. For the first time in a long while, he looked at his wife not with irritation but with real, animal fear. As if he finally understood he might lose her.
«Because of some nonsense?»
«Yes? I earn fifty thousand, you four times more — two hundred! A month! We spend four hundred thousand once a year on Turkey from your money! That’s two months of your work! Have you ever thought where the rest goes?»
Damir frowned, pressed his lips. No, he never thought about it. He just transferred, trusted, thought everything went to «the common good.» And now, for the first time, all this took form, weight, price.
«Well, I don’t transfer two hundred but one hundred seventy. I leave some for gas, cigarettes…»
«Fine! Multiply one hundred seventy by ten! One million seven hundred thousand! What does it go to?» Alena crossed her arms. «I can’t do this anymore. You have to do something or it will be divorce!»
Damir sighed heavily, realizing he would have to talk to his father and somehow explain his decision. But he didn’t just hesitate — he realized: his wife was right.
When the salary arrived, Damir didn’t send a single ruble to his parents.
«Son, did the salary come? We’re waiting,» came the tense voice of his mother on the phone.
«Mom, I decided not to send you any more salary…»
There was a deadly silence on the line. Then a loud, almost theatrical cough.
«How come? Why? There’s interest… It’s profitable for you…»
«I changed my mind,» he replied shortly, trying not to argue. «We don’t need interest.»
Ekaterina Borisovna was not going to give up. The fur coat was already chosen, tried on, and even tailored. And suddenly — such a turn.
«We wanted to help you… son, this is just a slap in the face… distrust…»
«Mom, I decided to open a savings account myself,» he lied on the fly, but it didn’t help.
«No, you can’t do this… we have plans… we sometimes borrowed from you…»
«Well, now you’ll have to ask personally.»
«I don’t want to ask — it’s humiliating!» Ekaterina Borisovna screamed and hung up.
But half an hour later, she called back — with tears that eventually turned into a hysteria.
«You owe us!» she shouted. «I have plans… you can’t…»
«With my money, Mom?» Damir asked with a smirk, realizing his wife was right.
«You’re our son, so this money is ours too!» the woman kept nagging. «Do you hear?»
«I spoiled you… yeah…» he grumbled and hung up.
Then his father called, then his sister. All demanded, begged, persuaded. He listened but didn’t say a word. Just hung up.
For about six more months, relatives hounded him with calls but then relented. They left him alone. True, the relationship with the family practically broke after that.
However, for Damir and Alena, a new life began — a life where money became theirs, where every purchase had meaning, and their daughter’s future became the main priority.
And for the first time in many years, they felt — they were truly a family.
