— “Tatyana, this is outrageous!” her mother-in-law, Galina Ivanovna, kept ranting. “Just look at this bathroom! How can you live in such a mess?”
Tanya flinched, turning away from the stove where she was making breakfast. At seven o’clock on a Saturday morning, the last thing she expected was a visit from her mother-in-law.
“Galina Ivanovna,” she said tensely, “the bathroom is clean. I scrubbed it yesterday.”
“Clean?” her mother-in-law marched into the bathroom, clicking her tongue loudly. “There’s enough dirt here for a week! And the water from the tap is yellow, and there’s limescale… Don’t you ever get around to cleaning properly?”
“It’s a rental,” Tanya explained patiently, following her. “We’re living here temporarily. The plumbing is old—no matter how much you clean, it still won’t shine.”
“Exactly! Temporarily!” Galina Ivanovna turned to her. “And why temporarily? Because you’re always studying, studying! You’re almost thirty and still a student!”
Sergey came out of the bedroom, rumpled and annoyed at being dragged out of bed so early.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that your wife has let the place go!” his mother pointed toward the bathroom. “You live any old way, you have no money, and she keeps running off to institutes!”
Tanya clenched her fists. The last year of her part-time program was hard—between classes she worked as an assistant accountant at a small company, but the pay was symbolic. Her tuition ate up half of their modest budget.
“Galina Ivanovna, I’ll get my diploma in six months,” Tanya said, holding herself in check. “Then I’ll find a good job, and we’ll be able to—”
“Six months!” her mother-in-law cut in. “And what are you supposed to live on until then? Sergey works himself to death, and what do you do? You bring in pennies and still spend money on school!”
“Mom, don’t,” Sergey tried to intervene, but Galina Ivanovna was on a roll.
“No, let her listen! Normal women provide for the family, keep the house in order, not study at that age! Look at your neighbor Klavdiya—she raised three kids, bought a house, and yours is still dreaming about something!”
Tanya went back to the stove, trying to hold back the irritation that was rising in her chest. Every weekend it was the same—nitpicking about cleanliness, reproaches about her studies, hints that she was an unworthy wife.
“Education is an investment in the future,” she said quietly without turning around.
“An investment!” her mother-in-law echoed sarcastically. “Are you going to invest at forty? You’re wasting time, girl!”
Tatyana silently stirred the eggs in the pan, counting down the days to her thesis defense. Only four months left.
Three years later, Galina Ivanovna stood in the spacious living room of a three-bedroom apartment, examining the new furniture with a look of extreme displeasure.
“You bought something again,” she grumbled, running a finger along the polished surface of a dresser. “And I bet it was expensive.”
“Good-quality things can’t be cheap,” Tanya replied calmly as she hung new curtains.
Outside the window, neat rows of new buildings could be seen. They had taken out a mortgage a year earlier, when Tanya was promoted for the third time in two years. Now she headed the finance department of a large company, and her salary was three times Sergey’s income.
“You know,” Galina Ivanovna said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa, “I don’t like how this is all turning out.”
“What exactly?” Tanya asked, turning with curtain hooks in her hands.
“That you’re the one in charge of the house now,” her mother-in-law said bluntly. “My son earns less than his wife. That’s wrong.”
Sergey, who was assembling a new shelving unit, froze with a screwdriver in his hand.
“Mom, what does ‘wrong’ have to do with it? Tanya did great—she got her education and found a good job.”
“Did great!” Galina Ivanovna snorted. “And what about you—are you worse than her? Why don’t you get bonuses, why don’t you get promoted?”
Tanya sighed. Here we go again.
“Sergey has a stable job, a good team,” Tanya said diplomatically.
“Stable!” her mother-in-law sprang up, pacing the room. “And yours isn’t stable? Then why do you get bonuses and pay raises every month? What’s so special about what you do?”
There were unkind notes in Galina Ivanovna’s voice. Tanya understood: her mother-in-law wasn’t angry about success itself—she was angry that success had changed the balance in the family. Now Tanya made most of the financial decisions; now her income allowed them to live comfortably.
“I just do my job,” Tanya answered quietly.
“Just your job!” Galina Ivanovna stopped at the window. “And my son—what, is he playing around? He’s at the factory from morning till night, his hands covered in calluses, and he earns peanuts!”
Two more years passed. The renovation was finally finished—walls covered in expensive wallpaper, floors gleaming with parquet, and a new kitchen set shining in place. Tanya looked over the result with satisfaction. No more big expenses were coming.
“All right,” she told Sergey, flipping through a bank statement, “now we can start saving. I opened a deposit with a good interest rate.”
Sergey nodded, eyes still on the TV. Lately he had grown quieter, especially when money came up.
Galina Ivanovna began visiting them more and more often. Tanya noticed her mother-in-law spending a long time talking to her son in the kitchen, lowering her voice. One day, passing by, Tanya caught fragments of a phrase:
“Lena urgently needs it again…”
Later it turned out Sergey was regularly transferring money either to his mother or to his sister, Elena. Tanya didn’t say anything—it was his money, his relatives. But irritation kept building.
“Tanya?” Galina Ivanovna appeared in the living room, looking pleased. “Did you get a bonus yesterday? A big one, they say.”
“Annual,” Tanya answered shortly, folding freshly washed laundry.
“And what are you going to spend it on? Something useful for once?”
“Nothing yet. I’m saving.” Tanya didn’t look up. “I’m thinking about buying a car or taking a vacation. Drive around Europe somewhere.”
“A car! A vacation!” Galina Ivanovna’s voice rang with outrage. “And do you know my Lena hasn’t been able to pay off her loan for three months? They shut off her hot water because of her debts!”
“Galina Ivanovna,” Tanya began carefully, “those are Elena’s family problems. If Sergey wants to help his sister—”
“Sergey!” her mother-in-law waved a hand. “Can Sergey’s income be compared to yours? You’re always getting bonuses, and my daughter is drowning in debt!” she blurted, as if it were an accusation.
Tanya straightened, looking her mother-in-law in the eye. Silence hung in the room, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock.
“So what are you suggesting?” Tanya asked slowly.
“Share!” Galina Ivanovna stepped closer. “You’re family! Lena is your sister-in-law, and you act like a stranger!”
“A stranger?” Tanya neatly folded the last shirt. “Interesting. And when was the last time Lena even said hello to me? At Sergey’s birthday she didn’t even look in my direction.”
“So what?” her mother-in-law brushed it off. “She’s a shy girl. And you’re an adult—you should understand.”
“Understand what?” Tanya’s voice hardened. “That I’m obligated to support your daughter? For what, exactly?”
“Because you’re my daughter-in-law!” Galina Ivanovna raised her voice. “Because you live in comfort while she suffers!”
“And why is she suffering?” Tanya stood up, folding her arms. “Maybe because she lives beyond her means? What did she take those loans for? New clothes? Expensive cosmetics?”
“None of your business!” her mother-in-law shrieked. “You need to help, not judge!”
“Galina Ivanovna,” Tanya said slowly, “for eight years I’ve listened to your reproaches. When we were poor, I was guilty because I studied. When I started earning well, I was guilty because I earned more than your son. Now I’m guilty because I won’t give money to your daughter, who can’t stand the sight of me.”
“You’re greedy!” Galina Ivanovna shouted. “You sit on money like—”
“Mom!” Sergey walked into the living room, his face dark. “What’s going on here?”
“Your wife refuses to help your sister!” Galina Ivanovna complained. “She got a huge bonus and won’t share!”
Sergey looked at his mother, then at his wife. Tanya saw something changing in his eyes.
“Mom,” he said quietly, “you tortured my wife when we were poor. You blamed her for not earning enough. Now that we’ve made it, you demand money from her.”
“I’m not demanding! I’m asking you to help the family!”
“This isn’t normal!” Sergey’s voice grew louder. “I won’t let you treat Tanya like this! She’s my wife, not a cash cow for your whims!”
Galina Ivanovna’s mouth fell open in shock.
“Sergey! How dare you—”
“Mom,” her son cut her off, “get out of our house. And if you’re going to keep begging us for money, don’t come here again.”
Galina Ivanovna clutched her chest, putting on a show of deep distress.
“Seryozha! How can you! I’m your mother!”
“Exactly why it hurts me to see what you’ve turned into,” he replied firmly. “Get your things.”
His mother yanked on her coat, shooting Tanya furious looks.
“Don’t think this is the end,” she hissed through her teeth. “I’ll talk to you again.”
The door slammed. Sergey sank onto the sofa, covering his face with his hands.
In the following weeks the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Aunt Klara called, cousins, even distant relatives from another city. Everyone tried to “talk sense” into Sergey.
“Seryozha,” his aunt wailed into the phone, “how could you offend your mother? The woman asked you to help her daughter, and you threw her out!”
“Seryozha,” his cousin Anatoly lectured, “what’s the big deal? Your wife has money coming out of her ears—share some with Lena!”
Even Galina Ivanovna’s neighbor managed to get through:
“Young man, your mother has been crying for three days! Aren’t you ashamed? You abandoned your own mother because of some wife!”
Sergey endured the first week, answered calmly, explained. In the second week he started cutting conversations off sharply. By the third week he simply hung up as soon as he heard familiar voices.
“Enough,” he told Tanya one evening. “I’m blocking all their numbers.”
He took out his phone and methodically started adding contacts to the blacklist. He tapped the screen with a kind of ferocity, as if tearing invisible bonds apart.
“Mom, Aunt Klara, Anatoly,” he muttered, “blocked. All blocked.”
When the list was done, Sergey set the phone aside and turned to his wife.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “that you had to endure so much because of me—because of my family. I should have protected you earlier.”
Tatyana came over and sat next to him. She rested her hand on his head, her fingers tangling in his hair.
“It’s nothing,” she whispered, pulling him close. “You don’t get to choose your relatives. The main thing is you love me, and I love you.”
Sergey hugged his wife tighter. Outside the window, the evening city lights glowed; in their apartment it was warm and quiet. Finally—truly quiet.
