“Was I supposed to pinch pennies on my own mother for her юбилей?!” the husband shouted when his wife found out whose money had paid for the banquet.
Ekaterina opened the banking app on her phone and scrolled through the transaction history on their joint card. Her eyes caught yet another transfer. Forty thousand rubles. Recipient: Marina Viktorovna Sokolova. Her mother-in-law. The woman frowned and scrolled further. A week ago—thirty-five thousand. Two weeks ago—fifty. A month ago—forty-two.
“Sasha,” Ekaterina called to her husband, who was sitting in the living room with his laptop. “Can you come here?”
Alexander appeared in the kitchen doorway, sipping coffee from a mug.
“What happened?”
“This,” the woman said, handing him the phone with the bank statement open. “Please explain.”
Alexander glanced at the screen and shrugged.
“I’m helping Mom. What is there to explain?”
“Forty thousand. That’s already the fourth transfer this month,” Ekaterina said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Our budget isn’t bottomless, and you…”
“Katya, Mom’s all alone after the divorce,” her husband said, setting the mug on the table and sitting down across from her. “It’s hard for her. I can’t just abandon her.”
“I’m not suggesting that you abandon her. But maybe we should discuss how much and when we help her?” the woman tried to speak calmly. “We’ve got rent, utilities, and the car sitting in the repair shop. We need to be saving too.”
“Mom needs help right now. We’ll help ourselves later,” Alexander said, taking the phone and handing it back to his wife. “Don’t worry so much.”
Ekaterina said nothing, but inside she was boiling. Don’t worry so much. Easy to say when you’re not the one keeping track of the family budget. She worked as a financial analyst and was used to planning expenses in advance. But her husband threw money around left and right without thinking about the consequences.
That same evening, Ekaterina sat down at the computer and opened the spreadsheet with their expenses. She listed all the transfers to Marina Viktorovna for the past three months. The total came to one hundred and eighty-seven thousand rubles. The woman leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples. It was too much.
“Sasha, let’s talk seriously,” Ekaterina began the next morning over breakfast.
“About what?” her husband asked, spreading butter on bread without looking up.
“About money. I did the math—for three months, you transferred one hundred and eighty-seven thousand to your mother. That’s an enormous amount for our family.”
Alexander looked up and frowned.
“You’re counting how much I help my mother?”
“I manage the family budget. That’s my job,” his wife replied calmly. “And these expenses are ruining us. We need to save for a vacation, for repairs, for the future.”
“My mother is more important than a vacation!” his voice rose. “She gave birth to me, she raised me! I’m obligated to help her!”
“No one is arguing with that. But let’s set a reasonable amount per month. Say, twenty thousand. That would be enough for—”
“Twenty?!” Alexander slammed the knife onto the plate. “You want my mother to starve?!”
“Sasha, your mother gets a decent pension. She’s not in such desperate need that we have to sacrifice our own budget!”
“That’s enough!” her husband said, getting up from the table. “I’m not going to discuss how much I should help my own mother. It’s my duty!”
The door slammed. Ekaterina remained sitting in the kitchen, staring at the unfinished breakfast. The conversation had gone nowhere. Then again, she had not really expected understanding.
Days passed, and the tension kept growing. Ekaterina tried to make a budget without factoring in the transfers to her mother-in-law, but every time she ran into yet another expense. Alexander kept helping his mother in secret, without warning his wife.
One morning, the woman woke up to a phone call in the other room. Her husband’s voice, muffled by the wall:
“Yes, Mom, of course. Don’t worry. I’ll transfer it now. How much do you need? Thirty? All right.”
Ekaterina clenched her fists under the blanket. Again. Every week—again.
At breakfast, the woman silently set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her husband. Alexander stared at his phone, chewing without appetite.
“Did you transfer thirty thousand to your mother this morning?” Ekaterina asked, pouring herself coffee.
Her husband looked up. Guilt flickered in his eyes, but it was immediately replaced by stubbornness.
“Yes. Her refrigerator broke.”
“Last month her TV broke. The month before that, it was the washing machine. Alexander, this is becoming absurd!”
“Appliances break. What’s strange about that?”
“What’s strange is that it’s constant!” Ekaterina raised her voice. “Every month it’s something new! Maybe she’s just wasting the money on nonsense and then calling you?”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!” her husband jumped up, knocking over the chair. “You have no idea how hard things are for her!”
“And things are easy for me?!” the woman stood too. “I work just as much as you do! I earn just as much! But somehow my money is going to your mother too!”
“Because we’re family! Family helps each other!”
“So your mother is family, and what am I then?!” Ekaterina felt tears rising, but held them back. “I’m not family, apparently? Just a walking wallet?”
Alexander did not answer. He grabbed his jacket and left for work earlier than usual. Ekaterina sank into the chair and covered her face with her hands. This was unbearable. Every day—the same thing. Money, his mother, scandals.
That evening her husband came home late. He ate dinner in silence and went to the bedroom. Ekaterina stayed in the kitchen, finishing a report for work. Her phone vibrated—a notification from the bank. A transfer of fifty thousand rubles. To Marina Viktorovna.
The woman jumped up and stormed into the bedroom. Alexander was lying in bed with his phone.
“Did you just transfer fifty thousand to your mother?!”
“Yes. She needed it urgently,” her husband did not even look up from the screen.
“For what?!” Ekaterina walked up to the bed and snatched the phone from her husband. “What did she urgently need fifty thousand for?!”
“Give me the phone back!”
“Answer the question!”
Alexander jumped up, took the phone back, and threw it onto the nightstand.
“That’s none of your business!”
“How is it none of my business?!” the woman felt the blood pounding in her temples. “That’s our shared money! I have every right to know where it’s going! … Continued a little lower in the first comment.”
The opening line can also be rendered more naturally as:
“Was I supposed to skimp on my mother on her anniversary?!” the husband yelled when his wife found out whose money had paid for the banquet.
Ekaterina opened the banking app on her phone and scrolled through the transaction history on their joint card. Her eyes caught on yet another transfer. Forty thousand rubles. Recipient: Marina Viktorovna Sokolova. Her mother-in-law. The woman frowned and kept scrolling. A week ago—thirty-five thousand. Two weeks ago—fifty. A month ago—forty-two.
“Sasha,” Ekaterina called to her husband, who was sitting in the living room with his laptop. “Can you come here?”
Alexander appeared in the kitchen doorway, sipping coffee from a mug.
“What’s wrong?”
“This,” the woman said, holding out the phone with the bank statement open. “Please explain.”
Alexander glanced at the screen, shrugged.
“I’m helping Mom. What is there to explain?”
“Forty thousand. That’s already the fourth transfer this month,” Ekaterina leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. “Our budget isn’t endless, and you…”
“Katya, Mom’s all alone after the divorce,” her husband said, setting the mug on the table and sitting down across from her. “She’s having a hard time. I can’t just abandon her.”
“I’m not suggesting that you abandon her. But maybe we should discuss how much and when we help her?” the woman tried to speak calmly. “We’ve got rent, utilities, and the car is in the shop. We need to be saving money ourselves.”
“Mom needs help right now. We’ll help ourselves later,” Alexander took the phone and handed it back to his wife. “Don’t worry so much.”
Ekaterina fell silent, but inside she was boiling. Don’t worry so much. Easy to say when you’re not the one managing the family budget. The woman worked as a financial analyst and was used to planning expenses in advance. But her husband threw money around left and right without thinking about the consequences.
That same evening, Ekaterina sat down at the computer and opened the spreadsheet with their expenses. She wrote out all the transfers to Marina Viktorovna over the past three months. The total came to one hundred eighty-seven thousand rubles. The woman leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples. It was far too much.
“Sasha, we need to have a serious talk,” Ekaterina began the next morning over breakfast.
“About what?” her husband asked, spreading butter on bread without looking up.
“About money. I did the math—you transferred one hundred eighty-seven thousand to your mother in three months. That’s an enormous amount for our family.”
Alexander raised his head and frowned.
“You’re keeping track of how much I help my mother?”
“I manage the family budget. That’s my job,” his wife replied calmly. “And these expenses are ruining us. We need to save for a vacation, for repairs, for the future.”
“My mother is more important than a vacation!” her husband’s voice rose. “She gave birth to me, she raised me! I’m obligated to help her!”
“No one is arguing with that. But let’s set a reasonable amount each month. Say, twenty thousand. That would be enough for…”
“Twenty?!” Alexander threw the knife onto the plate. “You want my mother to starve?!”
“Sasha, your mother gets a decent pension. She is not in such desperate need that we have to sacrifice our own budget!”
“That’s enough!” her husband stood up from the table. “I’m not going to discuss how much I help my mother. It’s my duty!”
The door slammed. Ekaterina remained sitting in the kitchen, staring at the half-eaten breakfast. The conversation had failed. Then again, she had not really expected understanding.
The days passed, and the tension kept building. Ekaterina tried to make a budget that did not account for transfers to her mother-in-law, but every time she ran into yet another expense. Alexander kept helping his mother in secret, without warning his wife.
One morning, the woman woke up to the sound of a phone call in the other room. Her husband’s voice, muffled through the wall:
“Yes, Mom, of course. Don’t worry. I’ll transfer it right now. How much do you need? Thirty? Okay.”
Ekaterina clenched her fists under the blanket. Again. Every week—again.
At breakfast, the woman silently placed a plate of fried eggs in front of her husband. Alexander stared into his phone, chewing without appetite.
“Did you transfer thirty thousand to your mother this morning?” Ekaterina asked, pouring herself some coffee.
Her husband looked up, guilt flickering in his eyes for a moment before stubbornness took its place.
“Yes. Her refrigerator broke.”
“Last month it was her TV. The month before that it was the washing machine. Alexander, this is absurd!”
“Appliances break. What’s so strange about that?”
“What’s strange is that it happens constantly!” Ekaterina raised her voice. “Every single month it’s something new! Maybe she’s just wasting money on nonsense and then calling you?”
“Don’t you dare speak about my mother like that!” her husband jumped up, knocking over the chair. “You have no idea how hard things are for her!”
“And things are easy for me?!” the woman stood up too. “I work just as much as you do! I earn the same amount! But somehow my money goes to your mother too!”
“Because we’re a family! In a family, people help each other!”
“So your mother is family, and what am I?!” Ekaterina felt tears rising, but held them back. “I’m not family, apparently? Just a wallet on legs?”
Alexander did not answer. He grabbed his jacket and left for work earlier than usual. Ekaterina sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands. It was unbearable. Every day the same thing. Money, his mother, arguments.
That evening, her husband came home late. He ate dinner in silence and went to the bedroom. Ekaterina stayed in the kitchen, finishing a report for work. Her phone vibrated—a bank notification. A transfer of fifty thousand rubles. To Marina Viktorovna.
The woman jumped up and stormed into the bedroom. Alexander was lying in bed with his phone.
“Did you just transfer fifty thousand to your mother?!”
“Yes. She needed it urgently,” her husband did not even look up from the screen.
“For what?!” Ekaterina walked up to the bed and snatched the phone from his hands. “What did she urgently need fifty thousand for?!”
“Give me the phone back!”
“Answer the question!”
Alexander sprang up, took the phone back, and threw it onto the nightstand.
“That’s none of your business!”
“How is it none of my business?!” the woman felt blood pounding in her temples. “It’s our joint money! I have a right to know where it’s going!”
“My mother is my business!” her husband was shouting now at the top of his lungs. “You’re greedy! You count every last penny! It drives you crazy when I help someone close to me!”
“I’m not greedy! I just want us to think about our family! About us!”
“Mom is our family too!”
“No!” Ekaterina shouted. “Our family is you and me! Marina Viktorovna is a separate person! An adult, independent woman who should live within her own means!”
Alexander turned away and switched off the light.
“I’m tired. Sleep on the couch if you want to keep fighting.”
Ekaterina remained standing in the darkness of the bedroom. Her hands were trembling. Inside her, fury churned together with helplessness. Her husband simply did not hear her. Did not want to hear her.
A month passed. The fights became daily. Alexander kept transferring money to his mother, and Ekaterina kept protesting. The circle was closed. There was no way out in sight.
At the beginning of October, Marina Viktorovna called her son. Ekaterina was sitting nearby and heard the conversation on speakerphone.
“Sashenka, in a month it’s my юбилей. Sixty-five years old, can you imagine?”
“Yes, Mom, I remember,” her husband was smiling at the phone. “Of course we’ll celebrate.”
“I want it at a restaurant. Not just some ordinary one, but a nice one. You know, something beautiful, with music, with elegance,” her mother-in-law’s voice sounded dreamy.
“Absolutely, Mom. I’ll organize an unforgettable celebration for you. Don’t worry,” Alexander assured her confidently.
“Thank you, son. I knew I could rely on you.”
Ekaterina looked at her husband, feeling her anxiety grow. A restaurant. Elegant. That would cost a huge amount of money. And where was he going to get it?
“Sasha, can we afford this?” the woman asked cautiously when her husband ended the call.
“Of course,” Alexander replied carelessly. “It’s Mom’s юбилей. That only happens once in a lifetime.”
“But how much will it cost? At a nice restaurant it’s at least five thousand per person. If there are twenty guests, that’s already a hundred thousand. Plus music, decorations…”
“We’ll figure it out, Katya. Don’t worry so much,” her husband waved his hand and walked into the other room.
Ekaterina remained sitting there, staring at one point. Don’t worry. How could she not worry when the budget was already falling apart?
The celebration took place on November fifth. Ekaterina was driving to the restaurant with a heavy sense of dread. Alexander was in a great mood, whistling at the wheel, talking about how long he had spent choosing the place.
“I picked Imperial. They’ve got amazing cuisine, a panoramic hall, live music. Mom will be thrilled.”
“Imperial?!” Ekaterina turned to her husband. “Sasha, that’s one of the most expensive restaurants in the city!”
“So what? Mom deserves the best,” her husband smiled as he parked by the entrance.
The restaurant really was luxurious. High ceilings, crystal chandeliers, snow-white tablecloths. Marina Viktorovna was glowing in the center of the hall, accepting congratulations from the guests. On the tables were expensive appetizers, bottles of elite champagne, and floral arrangements.
Ekaterina sat there, mechanically smiling at the guests, but inside she was calculating the approximate cost. The menu was at least seven thousand per person. Twenty-five guests. Alcohol. Musicians playing real instruments—a violin, a saxophone. Decor made from fresh flowers—not cheap daisies, but orchids and roses.
“Sashenka, thank you so much!” Marina Viktorovna walked up to her son and hugged him. “You gave me such a gift! All my friends are jealous!”
Alexander practically bloomed under his mother’s praise.
“Anything for you, Mom.”
Ekaterina turned to the window. The lights of the night city flashed beyond the glass. And here, money they did not have was flowing like water.
The party ended well after midnight. Marina Viktorovna left happy, hugging her son and thanking him again and again. Alexander helped his mother into a taxi and waved goodbye.
On the way home, Ekaterina said nothing. Her husband turned on music, sang along to it, and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“So, it went great, didn’t it?” Alexander asked as he parked near the house.
“How much did it cost?” the woman asked quietly.
“Katya, not now. Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” her husband got out of the car and slammed the door.
Ekaterina followed him in silence. They went up to the apartment and changed clothes. Alexander immediately collapsed into bed. The woman lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would find out what that юбилей had cost.
The next day passed in tense silence. Alexander walked around gloomy, avoiding conversation. Ekaterina watched her husband, bracing herself for the worst. Something was definitely wrong.
That evening at dinner, her husband opened his mouth several times, then fell silent again. He poked at his potatoes with a fork and pushed the plate away. Ekaterina waited.
“Katya, I need to tell you something,” Alexander finally forced out.
“I’m listening,” the woman set down her fork and looked at him.
“It’s… well…” her husband rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “The юбилей cost more than I expected.”
“How much more?”
“A lot more,” Alexander stood up and paced across the kitchen. “I didn’t have enough cash. So I had to…”
“Had to what?” Ekaterina’s voice became firmer.
“I had to take out a loan,” he blurted out, not looking at his wife.
Ekaterina froze. A loan. He had taken out a loan. For his mother’s юбилей.
“How much?” the woman barely managed to force the question out.
“Six hundred thousand rubles,” Alexander whispered, staring at the floor.
Silence. Ekaterina sat there, staring at her husband. Six hundred thousand. Six. Hundred. Thousand.
“You… you took out a loan for six hundred thousand?!” the woman’s voice broke into a scream. “Without telling me?!”
“Katya, please understand, I needed it urgently! There was no time to ask you!”
“No time?!” Ekaterina jumped up, knocking over the chair. “There was a whole month to prepare for the юбилей! But no time to ask your wife?”
“You would have said no anyway!” her husband shouted too. “You would have started calculating, economizing, cutting corners!”
“Of course I would have said no! Because this is insanity! Six hundred thousand for one evening! Are you out of your mind?!”
“Mom deserves a beautiful celebration!”
“For six hundred thousand?!” Ekaterina stepped right up to him. “Alexander, do you realize that’s a year and a half of my salary? That now we’re going to be paying off this loan for years?!”
“But Mom was happy!” her husband planted his hands on his hips. “Did you see her face?!”
“I did! I saw how happy she was at our expense! At the expense of our future, which you just flushed down the toilet!”
“Don’t talk about my mother like that!”
“I’m talking about you!” Ekaterina jabbed a finger into her husband’s chest. “About you and your irresponsibility! How could you do this? How could you take out a loan without my consent?”
“I signed it alone! The bank approved it!” Alexander stepped back. “It’s my loan, my choice!”
“Your loan? And who is going to pay it off? Me, right?! Because all your money goes to your mother anyway!”
“Don’t start again!”
“I will start! Because this is the limit!” Ekaterina felt the world going dark from rage. “I put up with your transfers! I put up with you draining our budget! But this… this is beyond all limits!”
“I organized my mother’s юбилей!” Alexander yelled. “The celebration of her dreams! Do you understand? Once in a lifetime!”
“And for that one time you went into debt for six hundred thousand?!”
“Yes! Because I couldn’t do otherwise!” her husband flailed his arms. “Mom dreamed of a beautiful celebration! I couldn’t let her down!”
“But you can let me down?! Our family?! Our future?!”
“Mom is more important!”
Ekaterina stopped dead and stared at her husband. Mom is more important. That said everything. It was perfectly clear.
“Say that again,” the woman asked quietly.
“What?” Alexander frowned.
“Say again that your mother is more important than me. More important than our family.”
Her husband opened his mouth, then closed it. He realized he had said too much.
“Katya, that’s not what I meant…”
“It is. That’s exactly what you meant,” the woman turned and walked into the bedroom.
“Katya, where are you going?!”
Ekaterina began taking clothes out of the closet and packing them into a suitcase. Her hands were trembling, but her movements were precise and decisive.
“What are you doing?!” Alexander froze in the bedroom doorway.
“I’m leaving,” the woman replied shortly, stuffing her cosmetics into the bag.
“Where? Why?”
“Because of what you just said,” Ekaterina turned to face him. “Your mother is more important. Then go live with her. Pay off the loan together. There is nothing for me here.”
“Katya, don’t be ridiculous! I misspoke!”
“No, Sasha. You told the truth,” the woman zipped up the suitcase and picked it up. “All these years you put your mother above me. Above us. I endured it, hoping something would change. But you took out a loan for six hundred thousand. For one evening. For your mother.”
“But…”
“No!” Ekaterina raised a hand to stop him. “Enough. I’m tired. Tired of coming second. Tired of sponsoring your mother. Tired of cleaning up the consequences of your decisions.”
“You can’t just leave!”
“I can. And I am,” the woman walked past her husband toward the exit.
“Katya!” Alexander caught up with her in the hallway. “Let’s talk! We’ll figure something out!”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Ekaterina put on her coat and picked up her bag. “You made your choice. Six hundred thousand for your mother’s юбилей—that was your choice. Living with the consequences is yours too.”
“Where will you go?!”
“To my parents’. Then I’ll find a rental apartment. That’s my problem,” the woman opened the door.
“Was I supposed to skimp on my own mother for her юбилей?!” Alexander shouted desperately. “Is that what you wanted? For me to refuse my own mother?”
Ekaterina paused in the doorway and turned back.
“Sasha, being careful with money is not the same as refusing. We could have arranged a good celebration for one hundred thousand. For two hundred. But you chose the most expensive option. Because you wanted to show what a wonderful son you are. At my expense.”
“Not yours! Ours!”
“No. Mine. Because I’d be the one paying off the loan. You’d still keep giving money to your mother,” the woman stepped out onto the landing. “Goodbye, Alexander.”
The door closed. Ekaterina went down the stairs and out into the street. The November wind burned her face, but she did not feel the cold. Inside her there was a strange emptiness mixed with relief.
Her parents welcomed their daughter without questions. Her mother led her to the old room where Ekaterina had lived before the wedding. She helped her unpack and made tea. Only when the woman sat down at the table with a cup in her hands did her mother ask:
“What happened, sweetheart?”
Ekaterina told her everything. About the constant transfers to her mother-in-law, the fights, the юбилей, the loan. Her mother listened in silence, shaking her head.
“Six hundred thousand for one evening,” she finally said. “Good Lord, Katya, how could this happen…”
“I can’t do it anymore, Mom. I can’t live with a man for whom I come second.”
“You’re doing the right thing, sweetheart. You’re doing the right thing,” her mother hugged her by the shoulders. “Stay here as long as you need. Everything will be all right.”
The next day, Ekaterina took a day off and went to a lawyer. She filed for divorce. The lawyer explained that the loan, taken out by Alexander without his wife’s consent, would remain his responsibility alone. They had almost no joint property—an apartment they rented, his car, old furniture.
“It’s all simple,” the lawyer assured her. “One month for reconciliation, then court. If your husband doesn’t object, you’ll be free in three months.”
Alexander called every day. During the first week, he begged her to come back, promised to change, swore he would never again help his mother without discussing it first. Ekaterina listened in silence, then hung up.
During the second week, her husband turned angry, accused his wife of being cold-hearted, insisted she was destroying the family over money. Ekaterina stopped answering the phone.
In the third week, Alexander tried using Marina Viktorovna. His mother called, cried, begged Ekaterina to give her son one more chance. Ekaterina politely but firmly refused.
A month later, the court proceedings began. Alexander came to the hearing alone and looked exhausted. He did not object to the divorce and silently signed the papers.
In the courthouse hallway after the hearing, her husband tried to approach his former wife.
“Katya, maybe we still…”
“No, Sasha. It’s over,” the woman walked past him without stopping.
Three months later, Ekaterina received the divorce certificate. A small piece of paper marking the end of a five-year marriage. The woman placed the document in a folder and put it away in the closet.
By then, she had found a one-room apartment not far from work. Small, but cozy. Her own space, where no one shouted, accused, or spent money on other people.
At work, she got a promotion—senior financial analyst. Her salary went up by twenty thousand. Ekaterina started saving for the down payment on her own apartment. Slowly, without strain. Thirty thousand a month. In three years, she would have enough for a mortgage.
One day Katya saw Alexander on the street near a bank. Her ex-husband was walking with Marina Viktorovna, explaining something to her and gesturing. The woman looked displeased, her lips pressed tight.
Ekaterina turned away and walked past. She did not want conversations or explanations. That life was behind her now.
That evening, the woman sat on the couch in front of the television, eating ice cream. Quiet. Peaceful. No one demanding money, no one accusing her, no one forcing her to choose.
Her phone vibrated—a message from her mother: “Sweetheart, come over for lunch on Sunday. I’ll bake your favorite pie.”
Ekaterina smiled and typed back: “I’ll definitely come, Mom.”
Life went on. Without loans, without a mother-in-law, without a husband who put his mother above his wife. Just life. Calm, steady, her own.
And that was enough.
