Little Igor, sweetheart, darling!” a young woman exclaimed as she embraced him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Mom’s in trouble.”
“Again,” Igor thought to himself, “I’m so sick of this,” he muttered. But, turning to his wife with merely a smile, he asked:
“What is it this time?”
“Mom needs to undergo rehabilitation. She recently had a major operation and is barely able to walk. There’s the injections, massage, and, in general—the medications…”
“Geez…” the head of the household said coldly, feeling the familiar surge of anxiety.
When he married his beloved Svetlana, his mother-in-law, Olga Stepanovna, appeared perfectly healthy—or so it had seemed back then. She could have run a marathon! But a year later her health suddenly began to decline. Operation after operation… how many had there been? Igor lost count.
The first time Svetlana asked for help, he immediately responded. At that time, he and his wife were choosing a plot of land. There was a distribution of new land underway, nearby an old river and a pine forest. He managed to buy an excellent plot— a full twenty hundred square meters.
Svetlana was happy; he said it was his gift to her, and it was true. He was already looking into home designs, but then problems with Olga Stepanovna began. The first bill was small—only fifty thousand, for some injections and procedures. But a month later his wife asked him again, and once more Igor agreed. After all, a mother-in-law is like a second mother; one must love and care for her.
Then came the third, fourth, and fifth payments, and as Igor now thought, this financial support seemed endless. Everything he had earned to build his own house evaporated within a year.
“Honey,” he addressed the lady of the house, “I’m broke.”
“How can that be?” Svetlana gasped and kissed her husband’s cheek once more.
“Everything I had, I gave it to you,” he said, speaking nothing but the truth.
“Maybe we can borrow money?” the woman suggested, sadly lowering her head and sighing heavily.
“I’ll think about it,” Igor replied, understanding what illness does. He had seen it happen with his own mother, although she managed to cope.
In the evening, Igor went to his sister’s place; she was three years older and had always been his adviser. After listening to her brother’s story, Nadya immediately asked:
“Don’t you have a sister-in-law?”
“Yeah,” Igor replied.
“She’s married, right?”
“Yeah,” came the short answer.
“Interesting, does her husband help out with his mother-in-law?”
“Probably,” Igor mused. He had seen Oleg only a couple of times, and that too at a wedding. Oleg was always working just like Igor himself, at least that was what his wife said.
“Strange,” said Nadya. “Almost all surgeries here are free, there are quotas and schedules. I don’t believe that Olga Stepanovna’s problems are so serious that a paid operation is necessary. Rehabilitation here is free too, and almost all medications are free as well. Although…” She raised her eyebrow briefly. “A couple of months ago I got sick and almost all my salary went to medications. Well, I don’t know—you should talk to your wife. You can’t always be the one paying for your mother-in-law.”
Later that evening, when Igor got home, he asked his wife for Oleg’s phone number.
“What do you need it for?” Svetlana asked warily.
“Well, how else—” Igor didn’t want to directly ask about the amounts Oleg spends on Olga Stepanovna. He just wanted to talk to him personally. “After all, he’s family, and we rarely get to speak with him.”
“I don’t have his number. I’ll ask my sister; maybe she’ll give it to you if you really want it. But he’s always working.”
“Well, I’ll invite him for a birthday. If he comes, he comes, if not…”
“Okay, I’ll pass your request to Vera. And what about helping your mom?” Svetlana then asked.
“I haven’t gone to the bank yet.”
“Don’t delay; mom needs almost four hundred thousand.”
At the mention of that sum, Igor felt a shiver of fear. Yes, he earned reasonably well, but he also helped his own parents and covered all household expenses. Therefore, he had little free money. And if he took a loan, it would be a year-long yoke at the very least.
Igor pondered his sister’s words—that surgeries are free, not to mention rehabilitation—and a couple of days later, he called her.
“Listen,” he said conspiratorially, “about your Nikolai—her husband—your sister Nina, right?”
“Yes,” Nadya immediately replied.
“You said she works at the regional hospital?”
“Yeah.”
“Could she find out something about Olga Stepanovna? Three weeks ago, my mother-in-law was in post-operative rehabilitation there.”
“You think…”
“I’m not guessing, I just want to know, if possible, which procedures she paid for, how much the hospital bed costs, and in general, what it all amounted to.”
“Hmm…” said his sister, pausing for a moment before answering, “Alright, I’ll ask Nina.”
“Thanks!” Igor responded gratefully.
A couple of days later, Svetlana brought up the matter of financial help for her mother once again.
“You can’t mess around with health!” the woman said irritably. “Mom can barely walk now; she’s run out of medicines! Look at this list of medications that need to be purchased! It’s a fortune, yet without them, she won’t recover.”
Taking the sheet with the list of medicines, Igor scanned through it. He had no idea what they were for, but the figures next to each item were substantial. And the total at the bottom read three hundred and eighty.
“A nightmare!” he could only murmur to himself.
“When are you going to the bank?” his wife demanded sharply.
“I’ll go on Friday,” he answered, even though he really didn’t want to go. He already had a car loan, and the thought of taking on another burden was unbearable.
“You must go!” Svetlana grumbled discontentedly.
“I will.”
“You promised last week. Be a man!”
“Oh, oh…” Igor groaned inwardly. He despised being compared to some mythical creature called a “man.”
On Thursday, while Igor was returning from work, he coincidentally ran into Oleg, his brother-in-law. Oleg was just coming out of a hypermarket carrying some box.
“What a coincidence!” Oleg exclaimed and shook Igor’s hand.
“Yeah, indeed—we live in the same city, married to sisters, and yet we haven’t seen each other for years,” Igor replied with a smile.
“Work,” Oleg said defensively, as if justifying why he never visited.
They talked for about ten minutes, and then Igor inquired about the financial help for Olga Stepanovna.
“Better get divorced!” Oleg snapped bitterly. “Vera is always siphoning money every month, oh dear…”
“And a lot?” Igor asked, intrigued.
“Something like twenty, thirty thousand… But it’s every month! And as for me,”—he pointed to his car—“the windshield’s cracked, the engine needs a rebuild, and the washing machine is already acting up. I wanted to change my batteries this year, but it didn’t work out—everything went to my mother-in-law!” he finished, his words laced with anger.
“So, I’m not the only sucker?” Igor thought. He considered himself a sucker for always helping Olga Stepanovna. If his mother-in-law were nagging or always berating him, he would have refused long ago—but she was calm, always praising her son-in-law and saying her daughter was very lucky to have him.
They talked a bit longer, and Oleg, apologizing, excused himself. Shortly after, Oleg received a phone call from Nina.
“You’re Igor, right?” a female voice asked.
“Yeah,” he replied immediately.
“We’re not personally acquainted, but Nikolai asked me to find out something for you.”
With mounting anticipation, Igor clutched the phone tightly to his ear.
“Well, Olga Stepanovna stayed in the regional clinic for a whole week.”
“A week?” Igor was surprised. “Only a week?”
“Yes, a week.”
He was taken aback because his wife had claimed that his mother-in-law had spent two weeks in rehabilitation.
“And she didn’t undergo post-operative rehabilitation, but just stayed in the preventive ward.”
“What does that mean?” Igor wasn’t familiar with the terms.
“In the preventive ward, they give injections, schedule appointments with doctors, offer consultations, you swim in a pool, do exercises, get IV drips, have breakfast, and sleep. In short, it’s like a pioneer camp for the elderly!”
“Hold on! What about the post-operative one? Because Olga Stepanovna has a bone sarcoma!”
“That’s serious,” Nina said. “A very serious illness. But—” she paused for a moment. “Olga Stepanovna was, as I mentioned, in the preventive ward. And when it comes to illnesses, especially ones like bone sarcoma, that’s in a separate building. It’s all very serious.”
“Wait, wait!” Igor tensed up. “Are you telling me that my mother-in-law didn’t have an operation?”
“Well, I can’t really say anything on that. Nikolai asked me to find out: was Olga Stepanovna admitted? I say yes, she was. Did she undergo post-operative rehabilitation? I say no—she only participated in physical activities and swam in the pool.”
“Damn!” Igor felt his face go pale and a chill settle in his chest.
“Do you have anyone you know in the city clinic? I need some information—specifically, where Olga Stepanovna sees her doctors.”
“Yes,” Nina replied truthfully. “Would you like to take a look at her chart?”
“Yes, if possible.”
“Of course it’s possible, but you understand…” she hesitated, waiting for him to make a suggestion.
“Anything—any wine you have at your disposal,” Igor replied with a chuckle.
“Deal! A couple of bottles on your account,” Nina giggled.
“Thank you so much!” Igor said, and after parting with Nina, he ended the call.
That evening, Svetlana again initiated a conversation about financial help for her mother.
“You can’t joke about health!” she said irritably. “Mom can barely walk; she’s out of medicines! Look, here’s the list of medications that need to be bought! It’s a fortune, but without them, she won’t recover.”
Grabbing the list of medicines, Igor scanned it quickly. He had no idea what each was for, but the figures beside them were not trivial. And the required quantities were significant. At the bottom, the total was listed as 380.
“Nightmare!” he muttered to himself.
“When are you going to the bank?” his wife demanded sharply.
“I’ll try to go on Friday,” Igor replied, even though he really didn’t want to. He already had a car loan and wasn’t keen on taking on another yoke.
“You have to go!” Svetlana insisted, discontent evident in her tone.
“I will.”
“You promised last week. Be a man!”
“Ugh, oh…” Igor groaned inwardly. He hated being compared to some mythical creature called ‘a man.’
The following Thursday, Igor left work and, while walking back home, unexpectedly encountered Oleg—the same brother-in-law. Oleg had just come out of a hypermarket carrying a box.
“What a meeting!” Oleg exclaimed, shaking Igor’s hand.
“Indeed, we live in the same city, married to sisters, and yet we haven’t seen each other in years,” Igor said with a smile.
“Work,” Oleg said, as if justifying why he never visited.
They talked for about ten minutes, and then Igor broached the subject of the financial help for Olga Stepanovna.
“Better get divorced!” Oleg snapped bitterly. “Vera is constantly taking money, month after month…”
“And a lot?” Igor inquired, interested.
“Something like twenty, thirty thousand… But every month! And as for me,” he added, pointing to his car, “the windshield’s cracked, the engine needs a rebuild, and my washing machine’s acting up. I wanted to change the batteries this year, but nothing worked out—all the money went to my mother-in-law!” he finished, with clear anger in his tone.
“Does that mean I’m not the only fool?” Igor thought. He considered himself such a fool for always helping Olga Stepanovna. If his mother-in-law were harsh or berated him, he would have refused long ago—but she was always calm, always praising her son-in-law, and saying her daughter was very lucky to have him.
They talked a little longer, and then Oleg, after apologizing, took his leave. Not long after, a call came into Oleg’s phone from Nina.
“You’re Igor, right?” a female voice asked.
“Yeah,” he answered immediately.
“We’re not personally acquainted, but Nikolai asked me to find out something for you.”
With mounting anticipation, Igor held the phone tightly to his ear.
“Well, Olga Stepanovna was registered as having been in the city polyclinic for a whole week.”
“A week?” Igor was surprised. “Only a week?”
“Yes, just a week.”
He was immediately taken aback because his wife had claimed his mother-in-law spent two weeks in rehabilitation.
“And she wasn’t in post-operative rehabilitation, but only in the prophylactic ward.”
“What does that even mean?” Igor wasn’t well-versed in these medical terms.
“In the prophylactic ward they give you injections, schedule appointments, consult with doctors, you swim in the pool, exercise, get IV drips, have breakfast, and sleep. In short, it’s like a pioneer camp for the elderly!”
“Wait—what about post-operative rehabilitation? Because Olga Stepanovna has bone sarcoma!”
“That’s serious,” Nina said. “A very serious illness. But—” she paused momentarily. “Olga Stepanovna was, as I mentioned, in the prophylactic ward. And when it comes to illnesses—especially something like bone sarcoma—that’s handled in a completely separate building. Everything is very serious.”
“Hold on, hold on!” Igor tensed up. “Are you saying that my mother-in-law didn’t have an operation?”
“Well, I really can’t say. Nikolai asked me: was she admitted? I say yes, she was. Did she undergo post-operative rehabilitation? I say no—she was merely engaged in physical exercises and swimming.”
“Damn it!” Igor felt his face drain of color and a chill fill his chest.
“Do you have anyone you know at the city polyclinic? I need information regarding where exactly Olga Stepanovna sees her doctors.”
“Yes,” Nina replied honestly. “Would you like to have a look at her chart?”
“Yes, if that’s possible.”
“Of course it’s possible, but you understand…” she trailed off, waiting for his suggestion.
“Anything—any wine you have will do,” Igor joked.
“Alright then, deal! A couple of bottles on your account,” Nina giggled.
“Thank you so much!” Igor said, and after bidding farewell, he ended the call.
Now Igor understood that he’d been duped like a sucker. There was no illness with his mother-in-law, no post-operative rehabilitation, and most likely, no bone sarcoma either. There had been no knee replacement surgery either. He grew furious and was ready right then to confront his wife with all his anger. After all, Svetlana must have known everything and was drawing money from him every month. But Igor needed proof. So the next day he asked for time off at work, drove to his mother-in-law’s house, parked his car discreetly, and began waiting.
After four long hours, when he started to doubt his plan, the entrance door opened, and Olga Stepanovna, without even needing her cane, stepped outside. Igor grabbed his phone and began recording. The mother-in-law, as if nothing were wrong, strolled lightly down the street. She met another woman, spoke briefly, and then continued on her way.
“Liar!” Igor shouted in anger. “Cobra, hydra!” his final words were directed at his wife, his sister-in-law Vera, and, naturally, his mother-in-law.
He recalled that just a couple of months ago he had bought his beloved mother-in-law a state-of-the-art wheelchair that had cost him as much as a spaceship. Svetlana had said that her mother even used the wheelchair to get to the toilet.
“What a sucker I am!” Igor berated himself as he reviewed the photos and video he had taken.
For the rest of the day, Igor wandered around the city. He couldn’t just go home—he feared that if he went in, he might lash out at his wife and do something terribly wrong. Though he admitted to himself that he almost wanted to do just that. He very much did, even if only to punch her in the face. Now, Igor no longer loved his wife and even wondered how he had ever kissed, embraced, and enjoyed her body. Now she was to him a disgusting, repulsive, loathsome woman.
Later, he managed to pull himself together. As soon as he arrived at his apartment, Svetlana rushed to him.
“So, did you get the money?” Her tone was irritable.
“Everything’s fine!” he said with a smile.
“Hooray!” Svetlana exclaimed joyfully, running up to him and kissing him.
“Wait!” Igor pushed Svetlana away, removed his jacket, set his sneakers aside, and, entering the living room, added:
“I have wonderful news, but…” He raised his finger and smiled again. “You’re going to be pleased.”
This time he kissed his wife, and she returned the kiss with equal sweetness.
“And my dear mother-in-law is going to be delighted!”
“Really?” Svetlana asked. “Did they give you a million?”
“Ohhh,” Igor replied suggestively, “much more, much more.”
“That’s amazing!” Svetlana couldn’t decide what to do. She approached her husband, grabbed his phone as if to call her mother, and then stepped back again.
“Ask Vera if she and her husband will come to your mother’s place tomorrow.”
“Oleg?” Svetlana asked in surprise.
“Yes—yes, so that everyone can be together. It’s a surprise for everyone.”
“Alright then,” her voice thoughtful, and she immediately called her sister. Within a minute, her nod conveyed that Vera and Oleg would come.
“Are you going to tell me what the surprise is?”
“No,” Igor replied, “otherwise it wouldn’t be a surprise—but you’re really going to love it!” And he kissed his wife again so sweetly that for about ten minutes afterwards, she stood there licking her lips.
A couple of days later, everyone gathered at Olga Stepanovna’s apartment. The mother-in-law, creaking and groaning, barely managed to get out of bed. Svetlana helped her sit in the wheelchair, and Vera, after adjusting the blanket around her legs, returned to the table.
“Well,” Svetlana said with a raised eyebrow, addressing her husband.
“I adore my wife,” Igor said.
Igor looked at Svetlana with admiration; she smiled back at him and blew him a kiss.
“Well, I love my wife too,” said Oleg, turning to Vera.
“I adore my mother-in-law!” Igor continued, looking at his brother-in-law.
“Me too,” Oleg immediately replied before turning to Olga Stepanovna.
“But here is where the secret lies,” Igor said cryptically as he produced his phone. He turned it on, and as soon as the screen lit up, he showed it to Oleg. For several seconds, the man stared at the image, and then his face began to redden.
“What is that?” Svetlana asked, not knowing what her husband had shown her. But Igor quickly turned off the phone.
The smile vanished from Oleg’s face; he cast a sidelong glance first at his mother-in-law, then at his wife.
“Please,” Igor said as politely as possible to Olga Stepanovna, “join us.”
A female hand rested on the control panel of the wheelchair—it jerked a couple of times and then stopped.
“I’ll help you,” said Igor, stepping toward the chair and pushing it forward. But after taking a few steps, he abruptly yanked the chair toward himself, and the woman’s body, jolted, landed hard on the floor.
“Ahhhh!” a scream rang out from his sister-in-law.
“What are you doing?!” Svetlana shrieked, rushing towards her husband.
Igor’s long arm immediately grabbed her by the neck. She flailed her arms, trying to reach his face.
“Shut up!” he shouted loudly and authoritatively.
At the sound of his voice, Svetlana froze for a second and then continued to flail, desperate to reach his face, as if to scratch and hurt him as much as possible.
“That’s enough! It’s all a fraud!” Igor finally cried. “This is all theater!” he glared bitterly into his wife’s eyes. Finally, she stopped reaching for his face and stepped back, and he instantly let go of her.
“There’s no sarcoma, no bone issue! And mother-in-law didn’t have any knee surgery! It’s all lies, and there was no post-operative rehabilitation,” Igor declared disdainfully as he walked around the three people sprawled on the floor. The sisters tried to help their mother, who was writhing and contorting as if she were truly in pain.
“Stop this circus!” he shouted. “Are you all healthy? Look!” Igor extended his phone toward Oleg. “These are the screenshots from the hospital; there’s no mention of any illness. Except maybe a prolapsed uterus!”
Svetlana hissed in anger.
“And I was wondering, how did my dear mother-in-law manage to get a washing machine with a dryer, and even a vacuum cleaner that washes… All on her money! Ha!” he laughed theatrically.
Throughout this time, Oleg had been reviewing the screenshots.
“And you…” he turned to Svetlana. “You’re always complaining that your mother doesn’t have enough money, yet here…”
He stepped away from the group. Finally, Olga Stepanovna, still writhing in pain, sat on a chair.
“Then I noticed,” Igor continued, “that my beloved wife suddenly had a business suit. Why on earth did you get that? You’re always whining that you don’t have enough salary! And yet that suit cost over forty thousand!” he gestured toward her. “You used to badger me for money,” he meant his wife, “and then hand it over to your mother, and she would take a commission as a reward. That’s why you ended up with a suit you didn’t really need.”
“You’re lying!” Svetlana finally shouted.
“Lying?” her husband retorted. “And you say that, you who for two years lied and drew money from me!” He pointed a finger at his mother-in-law. “For a healthy old lady!”
Olga Stepanovna blushed.
“She’s healthier than any of you! And the wheelchair—it’s just a theatrical front for me and Oleg.”
“Liar!” Svetlana shrieked.
Igor approached Oleg, took his phone, and played a video in which Olga Stepanovna was casually walking along the street.
Vera paled with anger, Svetlana, on the contrary, flushed red, and Olga Stepanovna lowered her head, murmuring something.
“Look,” Igor produced a bundle of papers from his bag, “these are the screenshots of the illnesses.” At that point, he smirked as he added, “No illness at all! You deceitful, repulsive women!”
All the while, Oleg sat silently. Perhaps he suspected that his mother-in-law was making up her ailments, but now he had proof. He stood up, went over to a small cabinet, took his wife’s purse out of it, and retrieved the keys to the apartment.
“You came to me with a bag of your things,” he said, looking at his Vera. “You tossed them out a few months later, and now everything in this house is mine!” His words came out with difficulty. “And don’t you dare come back to me!” With those words, Oleg went toward the door.
“I’m filing for divorce,” Igor declared. He went over to the wheelchair, grabbed it, and pushed it out the door. Within a minute, he left and slammed the door shut in a fit of anger.
Once only the women remained in the house, Olga Stepanovna abruptly rose from the wheelchair, glared at her daughters in anger, and retreated to her bedroom.
That evening, Oleg arrived at Igor’s place.
“I didn’t quite understand everything… can you explain?”
“Come in,” Igor said, letting his brother-in-law pass.
It took about half an hour of thorough explanation accompanied by showing documents that revealed how the wives had deceived him—all because Olga Stepanovna had devised a cunning plan to make money.
For a minute, Oleg sat in silence. He regretted having split with his wife. Then he opened his bag, took out a bottle of vodka.
“We should at least mark the occasion,” Oleg said sadly.
Igor said nothing; he simply took out two empty glasses and set them on the table.
After the revelations, Svetlana never called her husband again—she didn’t even retrieve her belongings from his apartment. What she had hoped for, Igor didn’t know. Yet, at the court, Svetlana failed to show up for the first, second, or third hearing. Perhaps she was convinced that Igor would not relent, and so she decided to spite him one last time. But that was for the best because the judge, not wanting to dig into the property dispute further, simply ruled for a divorce.
Not even a month passed. Igor clearly remembered the plot of land he had chosen with his wife. Closer to noon, he drove up to it. Now there stood a beautiful two-story cottage, not built by Igor, but most likely by Olga Stepanovna. Only one little complication remained: his ex-wife, not very adept at legal matters, had forgotten to transfer the deed to her name. And so, everything on that plot—which belonged to Igor—was his.
He opened the gate and walked calmly toward the house. The door opened, and there greeted him his ex-wife, and moments later a stranger appeared.
“What are you doing here?” his ex-wife asked coldly.
At that moment, a perfectly healthy Olga Stepanovna emerged from the house behind the stranger.
“Hello,” Igor greeted his former mother-in-law.
“Get out!” Svetlana shouted at him.
“And why should I?— Igor spread his arms. “Why would I leave my land?”
Olga Stepanovna first looked at her daughter, and then at her former son-in-law.
“This is my land!” Igor declared.
Not knowing what to say, Svetlana glanced at her mother.
“This is my land—you didn’t transfer it; it’s in my name! Everything here is mine!”
“No!” immediately came the outburst from his ex-mother-in-law. “Bastard, scoundrel, cur, rascal…”
“Whoa!” Igor took a couple of steps back, fearing that this shrew might pounce on him.
Svetlana, it seemed, understood what was at stake. She clenched her fists and glared angrily at her ex-husband. At that moment, a man who had been standing quietly by Svetlana rushed out of the house.
“Gather your stuff and get out the gate!” Igor said as he opened that very gate.
“Hey, man!” the stranger addressed Igor.
“Shut up!” Igor snapped at him.
At that moment, three cars pulled up to the house. Out of them stepped Nadya, her husband Nikolai, his sister Nina, then Zhanna, and eight more friends. All of them laughing, bustling about, pulling out bags—and then, like a wave, disregarding Svetlana’s and Vera’s protests, they barreled through the gate and into the house.
“Out! Out! Out!” Svetlana screamed at the uninvited guests.
“Get off! Don’t touch! Leave!” Vera shrieked.
“I’ll sue you!” Olga Stepanovna screamed as she grabbed a shovel, about to charge at Igor, but she was stopped by the very man who, most likely, had become the boyfriend of her ex-wife.
“If she ever comes to you for money, run,” Igor advised that man. Taking the shovel from Olga Stepanovna, he flung her into the bushes.
Svetlana cursed Igor, and Vera scolded her sister for not transferring the land into her name. And Olga Stepanovna cursed everyone, for she understood that she had lost everything—truly everything. Only half an hour later, she emerged onto the road, angrily kicked someone’s car, and, cursing everyone, quickly drove off. Vera ran after her, while Svetlana, looking like a battered dog, kept glancing back at the house she considered hers.
Nadya ran out onto the porch, followed by her husband. They took some party poppers from a box and started lighting them up like fireworks.
Others streamed out of the house, shouting:
“Victory!”
“Hooray!”
“We won!”
Soon champagne appeared, and corks flew through the air.
“Well, are you satisfied now?” Igor’s sister approached him.
“I don’t even know,” he answered sadly.
“But it’s still better than your old broad,” she quipped, referring not to his ex-wife but, of course, to his mother-in-law.
Igor embraced his sister, kissed her on the cheek, and taking a champagne glass from Nikolai’s hand, downed its contents in one gulp.
