“Pack your things and vacate his apartment,” declared my mother-in-law when I refused to take out a loan in my name…
Nastya pulled the sleeves of her sweater down, trying to get warm. The apartment was chilly—the radiators were barely lukewarm. A dim autumn light seeped through the window, raindrops slowly sliding down the glass.
“You haven’t washed the windows again,” came the familiar voice behind her.
Nastya flinched—she hadn’t heard her mother-in-law come in. Lidiya Mikhailovna was already standing in the middle of the living room, giving the space a critical once-over.
“Hello,” Nastya tried to smile. “Borya isn’t home yet…”
“My son is at work, where he belongs,” snapped Lidiya Mikhailovna, running a finger along the shelf. “And why are you sitting at home? Didn’t you go to work?”
“I have the day off today.” Nastya’s shoulders tensed.
“A day off? And you’re spending it sitting by the window?” The mother-in-law shook her head. “Back in my day, women used every free minute usefully. Cooking, cleaning, making a cozy home for their husband.”
Nastya kept quiet. In three years of marriage she had learned to let remarks like that go in one ear and out the other—though sometimes it was hard.
“I was just about to start cleaning,” Nastya lied, turning back to the window.
“Good. Because look—dust everywhere, the floors aren’t washed…” Lidiya Mikhailovna walked through the room. “Boryusha deserves better. He’s such a neat freak, raised to be tidy from childhood.”
“If Borya’s such a neat freak, maybe he can handle the cleaning himself?” Nastya couldn’t hold back.
Lidiya Mikhailovna froze.
“What did you say?” her voice turned icy. “My son works all day to support you, and you want him to clean too?”
Nastya bit her lip. She worked as well—at a good position in a bank. Her salary was even higher than her husband’s. But somehow, to her mother-in-law, that meant nothing.
“Lidiya Mikhailovna, let’s not…”
“No, let’s talk!” The older woman decisively sat down in an armchair. “I’ve been wanting to have a serious conversation with you. You don’t appreciate what you have at all. You’ve got a wonderful husband, your own apartment…”
“Borya’s apartment,” Nastya corrected softly.
“What difference does it make? You’re a family!” Lidiya Mikhailovna threw up her hands. “Although sometimes I doubt you understand that. Instead of creating a family home, all you think about is your career. Have you thought about children?”
Nastya clenched her fists. This conversation had happened a hundred times.
“Borya and I decided to wait with kids.”
“Wait?” Her mother-in-law pursed her lips. “Wait for what? Until you’re old? I, for one, would like to dote on grandchildren while I still have the strength.”
At that moment the front door opened. Nastya exhaled in relief—Boris was finally home.
“Mom?” he asked, surprised as he walked into the living room. “What are you doing here?”
“I just dropped by to check on you two,” Lidiya Mikhailovna instantly switched to a gentle tone. “To see how you’re living.”
Boris nodded and sank wearily onto the sofa. Nastya noticed how his mother immediately leaned toward her son.
“Boryusha, you’re so pale! Are they feeding you properly?”
“Everything’s fine, Mom,” Boris waved it off. “I’m just tired.”
“There! ” Lidiya Mikhailovna exclaimed triumphantly, turning to Nastya. “A man comes home tired from work, and there isn’t even a hot dinner!”
“Mom, stop,” Boris grimaced. “We’ll handle it ourselves.”
But she was already on a roll.
“No, I won’t stop! I can’t stand by and watch my son be unappreciated!”
Then her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and frowned.
“It’s Vitalik,” she announced. “Boryusha, you know your brother wants to open his own business?”
“I’ve heard something,” Boris replied vaguely.
“Exactly…” She answered the call. “Yes, Vitalenka? What? I’ll come right now!”
When she hung up, she turned to her son.
“Vitalik needs help with paperwork. He’s found a great space for a store, but there are some complications with the documents. Could you…”
“Mom, I’m tired,” Boris cut in. “How about tomorrow?”
“But tomorrow might be too late!” she protested. “Someone else could snap up the space! Vitalik will miss his chance!”
Boris sighed. “All right, let’s go.”
Nastya watched them leave. As always—if his mother called, Boris jumped up to go, no matter how tired he was. And a week later it became clear why, in fact, Lidiya Mikhailovna had come that day.
“Nastenka, we need to talk,” her mother-in-law called early in the morning. “It’s about Vitalik.”
“What happened?” Nastya asked warily.
“Come over to my place, I’ll explain everything.”
Nastya went. At her mother-in-law’s apartment she found not just a conversation but a surprise—Boris and his brother Vitaly were already there.
“Sit down,” Lidiya Mikhailovna pointed to a chair. “This is serious.”
It turned out Vitaly needed a loan to open the store. A big one.
“But I can’t take it,” Vitaly explained. “I already have one that isn’t paid off. And Mom’s on a pension. Borya has a car loan…”
“And what are you proposing?” Nastya sensed trouble.
“You work at a bank,” Lidiya Mikhailovna began cautiously. “You have a good credit history…”
Nastya went cold. “You want me to take out the loan in my name?”
“It’s just for a short time!” Vitaly jumped in. “A year at most! As soon as the store starts making a profit, I’ll pay everything back!”
“I’m not an ATM,” Nastya stood up. “Seriously, let’s look for other options.”
Her mother-in-law put on an understanding smile. “Nastenka, dear, no one said anything about an ATM. We’re family! Vitalik’s thought it all through, he’s a smart boy. The store will bring in good profits, and the debt will be repaid quickly—even with interest!”
“Yeah, Nastya,” Vitaly chimed in, “I’ve got all the calculations. In a year, year and a half I’ll definitely pay it off!”
Nastya shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s too big a risk.”
