Yana heard the familiar notification sound on her phone and glanced at the screen. A transfer from her parents had arrived at exactly nine in the morning, as usual. Thirty thousand rubles—the familiar amount her mother and father sent every month.
“Your parents sent money? Great, then we’ll buy my sister a phone,” her husband Viktor said, peering over her shoulder.
Yana slowly подняла her eyes from the screen. The September morning was chilly; outside the window the leaves were turning yellow, and the apartment held its usual coolness—the heating still hadn’t been switched on.
Yana’s parents really were well-off. Her father owned a small construction company, and her mother worked as chief accountant at a large firm. They regularly supported the young couple, believing it was right to help their daughter and son-in-law during the first years of married life.
“Viktor, maybe we should deal with our problems first?” Yana suggested carefully. “We still haven’t paid the electricity bill, or the internet. And we need groceries.”
“It’s fine, we’ll hang on a little longer. But Kristina really needs a phone. Hers is old, it lags all the time.”
Yana sighed. Conversations like this happened regularly, and every time the money her parents sent went not to the household, but to gifts for Viktor’s relatives. New boots for his mother, a jacket for his sister, car repairs for a cousin…
“Viktor, but we agreed these funds would go toward our household,” Yana tried to remind him.
“They’re my close family—they need it more,” her husband waved it off, as always. “Your parents don’t mind. They’ve got plenty of money.”
Yana fell silent. Explaining that her parents worked from morning till night for that money—and didn’t print it at home—was pointless. Viktor sincerely believed rich people parted with money easily and that supporting a young family cost them nothing.
In half a year of marriage the same pattern repeated again and again. A transfer arrived—Viktor immediately planned to spend it on his relatives. Yana objected—Viktor acted shocked that his wife was being so “greedy” toward “family.”
“I’m not asking for myself,” he said every time. “I’m asking for my mom and my sister. They need it more than we do.”
“And we don’t?” Yana would ask.
“What are we, dirt poor? We have a roof over our heads, food in the fridge.”
“My parents are the ones paying for the roof—and the food too!”
“Great. Then we can help my loved ones.”
Ironclad logic. Pointless to argue.
More and more often, Yana caught herself getting irritated even by her husband’s usual excuses. Before, she tried to argue, prove her point, explain. Now she just simmered in silence.
Last month, her parents sent money specifically for a washing machine. Yana was tired of hauling laundry to a laundromat and washing by hand in the bathtub. She asked her parents for a specific amount for a specific purchase.
“Mom’s sending money for a washing machine,” Yana happily told her husband.
“Perfect! We can buy Mom a new coat. Winter’s coming, and she’s been wearing the old one for three years.”
“But the money is for the washing machine!”
“The washing machine can wait. Mom matters more.”
No washing machine ever appeared in the apartment. But her mother-in-law strutted around in a new burgundy coat.
This morning, Yana firmly decided to put an end to it. The night before, she made a list of essentials: pay utilities, buy winter boots for herself, buy groceries for the week, set money aside for the washing machine.
“Viktor, let’s talk seriously,” Yana began. “My parents helped again. Can we finally spend this money on our family?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting—on family. Kristina is family too.”
“Kristina is your sister. Our family is you and me.”
“Wow, you’ve gotten kind of stingy. You didn’t object to gifts for my relatives before.”
Yana remembered the first months of marriage. It was true—she didn’t object. She wanted to make a good impression on her new in-laws, to show she was kind and generous. But gradually it became clear: kindness was taken for weakness, and generosity for something owed.
“I’m not stingy. I just want the money my parents send to be spent on our family.”
“Here we go again. Kristina really needs a phone. Yesterday it froze completely—barely turned on.”
“And I need boots. October’s almost here, and I’m still wearing summer shoes.”
“Boots can wait until next month.”
“But Kristina’s phone can’t wait?”
“Those are different things! A phone is a necessity nowadays. Boots… you’ll manage a bit longer in the old ones.”
Yana felt a wave of outrage rising in her chest. So a phone for her husband’s sister was a necessity, but warm shoes for his wife were a whim.
“Fine,” Yana said slowly. “Then explain to me why your sister matters more than your wife.”
“She doesn’t matter more! She just has a tough situation right now—earns pennies, rents a place. And we’re fine.”
“We’re fine only thanks to my parents!”
“So what? They don’t mind!”
He said it so naturally, as if he truly believed it was right to spend someone else’s money on his own relatives.
Yana stood up from the table and walked to the window. Outside, an ordinary workday was beginning—people hurrying to buses, rushing to offices. Everyone earning money through honest work, not counting on the generosity of someone else’s parents.
“Viktor, if your parents were the ones sending us money, would you agree to spend it on my relatives?”
“That would be different.”
“Why?”
“Well… my parents aren’t that rich. It’s hard for them.”
“So their money should be spared, but my parents’ money doesn’t matter?”
“That’s not it! It’s just that your parents can afford to help. So they help.”
“They help us—not your sister!”
The conversation went in circles. Yana understood: she would never convince him. He genuinely believed he was right.
That evening, her parents called to ask how things were going.
“Did you get the money?” her mother asked. “Everything okay?”
“We got it, thank you,” Yana answered.
“What will you spend it on?”
Yana hesitated. Tell the truth—upset her parents. Lie—betray herself.
“Viktor wants to buy his sister a phone,” Yana admitted honestly.
“His sister?” her mother said, surprised. “And what about your own needs? We send it to you, not to strangers.”
“Mom, to Viktor Kristina isn’t a stranger.”
“To Viktor, maybe not. But to your father and me she is. We’re helping our daughter, not someone else’s girl.”
“I understand, Mom.”
“Yana, if you can’t influence your husband, maybe you should rethink the relationship. We don’t work day and night to support his relatives.”
After the call, Yana sat down at the table and pulled out a notebook. She decided to calculate how much her parents had transferred over six months—and what it was spent on.
August—30,000. Twenty went to a fur coat for her mother-in-law, ten to groceries.
July—30,000. Fifteen to Kristina’s vacation, fifteen to utilities.
June—40,000. Thirty to a cousin’s car repair, ten for household needs.
May—30,000. Twenty-five for her mother-in-law’s birthday, five to groceries.
April—35,000. Thirty for a new suit for her father-in-law, five left for small expenses.
March—30,000. Twenty-five for Kristina’s dental treatment, five for Yana’s own medicine.
Total for half a year: 225,000 rubles. Of that, no more than 50,000 went to their own household.
Yana stared at the numbers and felt blood rush to her face. Her hands clenched into fists. It turned out her parents weren’t supporting a young couple—they were supporting an entire clan of her husband’s relatives.
“Viktor, come here,” Yana called.
Her husband came out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sit down. I’ll show you some interesting numbers.”
She handed him the notebook.
“Look how much my parents sent over six months—and what we spent it on.”
Viktor skimmed the notes and shrugged.
“So what?”
“What do you mean, ‘so what’? Out of 225,000 rubles, only 50,000 went to us!”
“The rest went to family too. To the bigger family.”
“To your family! My parents thought they were helping us!”
“We’re not beggars. We can share with loved ones.”
“With my parents’ money!”
Yana finally understood: her husband had no intention of growing up and taking responsibility for his own family. Viktor was used to spending other people’s help left and right, thinking it was normal.
That same evening Yana pulled out all the receipts and transfer confirmations she’d kept. She spread the documents on the table, proving every expense. She wanted to show him in black and white how her parents’ money was actually being used.
“Viktor, look closely,” she said, pointing at the papers. “Here’s the August transfer—30,000. And here’s the receipt for your mother’s fur coat—20,000. Here’s July’s transfer, and here are the tickets for Kristina’s vacation.”
Viktor glanced over the documents and waved them off.
“So what? We helped people close to us.”
“Helped?” Yana laughed bitterly. “My parents send money to us—not to your relatives!”
“Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill. Your parents are rich, they won’t miss it.”
“Rich doesn’t mean stupid. Tomorrow I’m calling them and explaining everything.”
Viktor frowned.
“Why create problems? Everything was fine.”
“It was fine for you and your family. For me and my parents—it was not.”
The next morning, Yana waited until her husband left for work and dialed her mother.
“Mom, we need to talk seriously,” Yana began.
“What happened, sweetheart?”
“No more transfers. Everything gets diverted away from our family.”
Her mother was silent, then asked quietly:
“So Viktor spends our money on his relatives?”
“Exactly. In six months, out of 225,000, at most 50,000 went to us.”
“Understood. Not a kopeck more.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“Yana, and you—are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“I do. But I’d rather need things myself than watch my money get spent on strangers.”
That evening Viktor came home in high spirits. He brought a phone catalog.
“Look at this beautiful smartphone! Perfect for Kristina. Tomorrow I’ll transfer her the money.”
“You won’t,” Yana said calmly.
“Why not?”
“Because there won’t be any money anymore. I asked my parents to stop sending transfers.”
Viktor went pale.
“What have you done?! Why are you meddling? That’s our money!”
“Not ours. My parents’. And it will only be spent the way it was intended.”
“What ‘intended’? They sent it to us!”
“To us—not to your sister and mother!”
Viktor erupted.
“What are you even talking about? They’re my family! How can you be so selfish?”
Yana pulled out a folder of documents and tossed it onto the table.
“Here are the statements for every expense. Count for yourself how much went to us and how much went to your relatives.”
Viktor flipped through the papers and set them aside.
“Well, we helped people. What’s so bad about that?”
“What’s bad is you weren’t helping with your own money!”
“And whose money was it? We’re married!”
“Married doesn’t mean you can распоряжаться my parents’ money however you want!”
The argument dragged on until late at night. Viktor couldn’t understand his wife’s complaints, sincerely believing he was in the right.
Two days later, the phone rang. It was Kristina.
“Yana, is it true you forbade your parents to send money?” Viktor’s sister demanded without even saying hello.
“I didn’t forbid them. I asked them to stop.”
“How could you? I was counting on a new phone! Mine barely works!”
“Kristina, buy a phone with your own money.”
“I don’t have that kind of money!”
“Then work more.”
“You’re so stingy! Viktor said your parents have tons of money!”
“My parents have money they were sending to us, not to you.”
“But we’re relatives!”
“You’re Viktor’s relative, not mine.”
“What a bitch you are!” Kristina snapped and hung up.
That same evening Yana went to the bank and blocked shared access to her accounts. She opened a separate card her husband didn’t know about.
At home, Viktor was waiting—furious.
“What are you doing? Kristina called crying! She says you were rude to her!”
“I told her the truth. Let her earn her own phone.”
“She has a small salary!”
“And we have no money at all because of your generosity!”
“Yana, you’re betraying my family!”
“And you betrayed our family the moment you started spending my parents’ money on other people!”
The fight became serious. Viktor shouted that his wife had turned greedy and cold. Yana silently went into the bedroom, pulled out a suitcase, and began packing his things.
“What are you doing?” Viktor said, stunned.
“Packing your things. Go live with the people you call family.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“I am. I’m the one renting this apartment, I’m the one paying. You only spend.”
“But we’re husband and wife!”
“We were. Now you’re as much a stranger to me as your sister is to my parents.”
Yana rolled the suitcase into the hallway. Viktor stood there, unable to believe what was happening.
“Hand over the keys,” Yana demanded.
“What keys?”
“To the apartment. All the duplicates you made.”
“I won’t!”
“Then tomorrow I’ll change the locks and call the police if you try to come in without permission.”
Viktor understood—she was serious. Reluctantly, he pulled out a key ring.
“You think this is better?” he asked.
“Much better. At least my parents’ money won’t keep going to your relatives.”
“What about love? Family?”
“Love is respect. And you didn’t respect me—or my parents.”
“I love you!”
“You love me so much you’re ready to spend my parents’ money on anyone except me.”
Viktor picked up the suitcase and headed for the door.
“Maybe you’ll think about it?” he asked from the threshold.
“I already have. Tomorrow we’re going to the registry office to file for divorce.”
“What if I don’t go?”
“Then I’ll file through the court. But it’ll be faster together.”
The next day the soon-to-be ex-spouses stood silently in line at the registry office. They filled out the divorce application quickly—no shared property, no children. In a month, the divorce would take effect.
“Well, that’s it,” Viktor said outside.
“Yes. That’s it.”
“Maybe you’ll change your mind?”
“No.”
“And if I change?”
“Too late to think about it now.”
Viktor stood for a moment, then walked toward the bus stop. Yana watched him go and felt relief.
At home she cleared the table of documents and put them back in the folder. There would be no need to count expenses anymore—there was no one left to spend money on besides herself.
That evening her parents called.
“How are you, sweetheart?” her mother asked.
“We filed for divorce today.”
“You did the right thing. No need to feed other people.”
“Now I’ll earn for myself and spend for myself.”
“And until you find a better job, we’ll help a little. But only you лично.”
“Thank you. Now I know the help will be used properly.”
A month later the divorce was finalized. Yana met Viktor in the registry office corridor one last time.
“No regrets?” her ex-husband asked.
“Not a single one.”
“I regret it.”
“Too bad you didn’t think of that earlier.”
Closing the apartment door behind her ex-husband for good, Yana exhaled in relief. Now her parents’ money—and her own efforts—went only to her, not to someone else’s whims.
That same week she bought the long-awaited washing machine. No more hauling laundry to a laundromat or scrubbing by hand. The machine stood in the bathroom and pleased her eye—the first big purchase made with money spent as intended.
Her parents started helping again, but now Yana reported every ruble she spent. She bought only essentials—food, clothes, household items. No one could lay claim to that money except Yana herself.
Kristina tried calling a few more times, asking for help with purchases. Yana politely refused and suggested she ask her brother. Eventually the calls stopped.
Viktor found a job in another city and moved in with his mother. They never crossed paths again. Through mutual acquaintances, Yana heard her ex-husband remarried. “I wonder,” she thought, “does the new wife spend her own money on his relatives too?”
A year passed. Yana landed a good job and stopped depending on her parents’ support. The money they sent now—not every month, only for holidays—she spent on travel and hobbies.
The apartment transformed. New furniture appeared, modern appliances, beautiful décor. Everything was bought gradually, with her own money or her parents’ gifts. But the most important part was that every item was bought for herself, not for other people.
Sometimes Yana remembered those six months of marriage and marveled at her own naivety. How had she put up with such blatant entitlement for so long? But that experience taught her to value her boundaries and not let anyone cross them.
There were no new relationships yet. Yana wasn’t in a hurry—better to live alone than with someone who thinks other people’s money is his.
