Maria wearily sank into the kitchen chair. The coffee had long since gone cold, but she didn’t even touch the cup — she was lost again in thoughts about yesterday’s conversation with her mother-in-law.
“You have no idea how tired I am of all those hints!” Maria sighed, looking at her husband. “Your mother starts every meeting by talking about the apartment issue.”
Sergey just waved his hand and began spreading butter on his bread.
“Oh, come on, Mom just dreams of having her own place. As far back as I remember, we’ve always been moving from one rented apartment to another.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Maria sharply pushed the cup aside. “The apartment I have was inherited from my parents. Am I supposed to feel guilty about that now?”
Sergey looked away. A deep wrinkle appeared on his forehead.
“No one says you’re guilty. But admit it, you have your own place, and Mom has nothing.”
“We have our own place,” Maria corrected him. “By the way, we’ve been married for five years already. And your mother knew perfectly well about that when we met.”
There was a knock on the door, and Maria rolled her eyes. Irina Nikolaevna, as always, had come without warning.
“Sonny!” Irina Nikolaevna hugged Sergey impulsively, not even looking at her daughter-in-law. “How I’ve missed you!”
Maria pressed her lips together. They had seen each other just two days ago.
“Hello, Irina Nikolaevna,” she said with a forced smile.
“Oh, and you too,” the mother-in-law said as she sat down at the table. “What’s for lunch?”
“Borscht and cutlets,” Maria replied.
“Borscht again?” Irina Nikolaevna grimaced. “It was borscht last time too.”
Maria clenched her teeth painfully.
“This isn’t the same borscht. We already ate that one.”
Her mother-in-law snorted mockingly and turned to her son.
“Sergey, I spoke with the landlord yesterday. They’re raising the rent again! I don’t know how I’ll manage. The pension is tiny, and prices keep going up.”
“Mom, stop it,” Sergey said quietly. “We talked about this…”
“What did we talk about?” Irina Nikolaevna pressed on. “That your wife lives in a three-room apartment, and your mother is stuck in a rented one-room? If only I had my own house…”
“What does my apartment have to do with it?” Maria stood up sharply. “It was left to me by my parents!”
Irina Nikolaevna theatrically threw up her hands.
“Oh, from your parents! How lucky you are! No one left me anything!”
Maria grabbed the dishes and slammed them into the sink.
“I’m going to work,” Sergey said and quickly rushed out of the kitchen.
Cowardly ran away, as always.
Two weeks later, Maria received a call from Aunt Vera. Her voice sounded strange, and Maria immediately tensed.
“Marinochka, I have news. Your grandfather has passed away.”
“Aunt Vera, but how…”
“And he left you an inheritance. Eight million, Marisha. Everything he saved. You’re the only one who was always there.”
Maria caught her breath.
“Aunt Vera…”
Maria hadn’t planned to tell anyone, but Sergey accidentally saw a notification on her phone.
The news spread instantly. And soon, Irina Nikolaevna was standing at their door again, but somehow transformed — with a cake and a box of chocolates.
“Dear Marinka!” the mother-in-law hugged her for the first time in her life. “What a joy!”
Maria stood frozen by such a change.
“How are you, Irina Nikolaevna?”
“All is well, sunshine!” chirped the mother-in-law.
Sergey looked embarrassed but pleased.
“Mom, why are you like this…”
“What?” Irina Nikolaevna laughed. “Just thought I’d drop by my beloved children! Marisha, I baked some pies, your favorite — with cabbage.”
Maria had never mentioned liking cabbage pies.
“How kind of you.”
They went to the kitchen, and the mother-in-law fussed about setting the table.
“I found out there’s a little house for sale in our neighborhood. Wonderful, with a garden! They’re asking only six million.”
So that’s what it was about. Maria exchanged a glance with her husband.
“I have completely different plans for that money,” she said firmly.
“What plans?” Irina Nikolaevna smiled sweetly. “We could have solved everything as a family. You could keep your apartment, and I’d get the little house. And everyone would be happy!”
“Mom!” Sergey interrupted her. “Enough!”
“What’s wrong with that?” Irina Nikolaevna blinked in puzzlement. “I’m just suggesting a reasonable solution. Why let money sit idle? Marisha, darling, you’re so smart…”
“No,” Maria cut her off. “I’m not going to buy a house for you.”
After that, relations with her mother-in-law completely deteriorated. Irina Nikolaevna kept reproaching Maria for the apartment and the money she had not yet received. To everyone.
Six months passed. Maria finally inherited and received all the money. The sum was impressive — seven million eight hundred thousand rubles. She decided to save it for the future, possibly for a new apartment or a car.
Sergey had been acting strangely lately. Maria often caught his thoughtful gaze. He had started conversations several times, then abruptly stopped and changed the subject.
“You’ve been acting strange lately,” Maria noticed during breakfast. “Did something happen?”
Sergey shrugged vaguely.
“Everything’s fine. Just overwhelmed at work.”
Maria nodded understandingly. She didn’t press him — maybe he really had problems at work. Though her intuition suggested it was something else.
To Maria’s surprise, Irina Nikolaevna stopped coming to their home. No calls, no sudden visits. At first, it seemed suspicious, but soon Maria simply sighed with relief.
“Strange that your mother hasn’t dropped by,” she remarked once.
“She’s… busy,” Sergey replied, avoiding her gaze.
“Busy? With what?” Maria raised an eyebrow.
“Renovations,” her husband said shortly and quickly changed the subject.
Three months later, Maria prepared a special dinner — roast duck with apples, Sergey’s favorite dish. She lit candles, covered the table with a beautiful cloth. Their relationship had become tense lately, and Maria hoped to smooth things over.
Sergey came home late from work. His eyes gleamed feverishly.
“Mash, we need to talk,” he said, not even looking at the festively set table.
Maria tensed.
“What happened?”
Sergey took a folder of documents from his briefcase and laid it in front of her.
“I took out a mortgage. For a house for Mom.”
Maria slowly sank into the chair.
“A mortgage? When?”
“Two months ago,” Sergey nervously fiddled with the edge of the paper. “The house is small but cozy. With a garden, just like she dreamed.”
“And you decided to tell me only now?” Maria’s voice was quiet and calm, but inside everything boiled.
“I didn’t know how to start this conversation,” Sergey admitted. “I knew you’d be against it.”
Maria slowly took the documents and scanned the lines.
“Ten years of payments?” she looked up at her husband. “And with what money were you going to pay this? Where did you even get the down payment?”
Sergey was silent, eyes lowered.
“You…” Maria began to realize, “You were counting on my money? On the inheritance?”
“What else?” There was resentment in his voice. “Mom never had her own home. Always rented. And you got a huge amount.”
“Which I’m not obligated to spend on your mother!” Maria jumped up. “This is my money, Sergey!”
“So what now?” He stood up too. “I already signed the contract. Mom has already moved in!”
“So that’s what she was ‘busy’ with!” Maria bitterly smiled. “And I wondered where she disappeared to. She was preparing the new home.”
“Mash, understand,” Sergey reached out to her. “It’s a good thing. A person dreamed of her own house all her life.”
“What do I have to do with it?” Maria stepped back. “Why should I pay for your mother’s housing?”
“Because you’re my wife!” Sergey raised his voice. “Because we’re family!”
“Family?” Maria shook her head. “Family doesn’t do things behind your back. Doesn’t put you before a fact.”
Sergey turned red.
“What’s it to you?! You have almost eight million!”
“You thought I’d agree to pay for your mother’s house?” Maria crossed her arms. “You were wrong!”
For three weeks they hardly spoke. Maria left for work early and came home late. Sergey slept in the living room.
When the first mortgage payment was due, Sergey’s account had no money.
The next day, Irina Nikolaevna appeared at the door. Her face twisted with anger.
“Because of you, the bank sent a notice of late payment!” she accused Maria right from the doorstep. “Are you happy now?”
“Hello, Irina Nikolaevna,” Maria straightened up. “And why do you think it’s because of me?”
“Sergey said you refused to help!” the mother-in-law pushed her way into the apartment. “After everything I’ve done for you!”
“And what have you done for me?” Maria crossed her arms. “Try to remember anything.”
Irina Nikolaevna opened her mouth, then closed it.
“I accepted you into the family!”
“And constantly reminded me I wasn’t good enough for your son,” Maria retorted. “Wonderful ‘acceptance.’”
Sergey came out of the bedroom, awakened by their voices.
“What’s going on?”
“Your wife refuses to help!” Irina Nikolaevna waved at Maria. “She wants me out on the street!”
“No one will end up on the street,” Maria said tiredly. “Just sell the house you can’t afford.”
“Sell?!” the mother-in-law exclaimed. “I’d rather stop breathing than part with it! Sergey, tell her!”
“Mash,” Sergey stepped forward. “Please. At least help a little.”
Maria looked at them both and suddenly understood: she was the outsider. Always had been. For them, she was just a wallet on legs.
“Get out,” Maria said quietly. “Both of you.”
“What?” Sergey couldn’t believe his ears.
“Get out of my apartment,” Maria repeated louder. “I’m filing for divorce.”
Sergey and Irina Nikolaevna left, loudly slamming the door behind them. Maria finalized the divorce a month later; fortunately, they had no children and almost no shared property.
Maria bought a bright red car she had long dreamed of. With part of the remaining money, she bought a small cozy one-room apartment in a new neighborhood.
“For the child of the future,” Maria whispered, stepping over the threshold of her new home. “Who I will have someday.”
