Rain drummed against the café windows where Kira was waiting for Pavel. A year of dating is no small thing, and at last the guy had decided to introduce his girlfriend to his mother. Kira was nervous, adjusting the dark blue dress she’d bought especially for the occasion. She wanted to make a good impression.
Pavel appeared in the doorway at exactly three, as agreed. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the gentle smile that had won Kira over last September at a mutual friend’s birthday.
“Ready to meet the most important woman in my life?” Pavel kissed her on the cheek.
“After me, I hope?” Kira tried to joke, but her voice betrayed her with a tremor.
“Of course. Mom’s waiting for us at home—she made your favorite shrimp salad.”
“How does she know what I like?”
“I told her. I told her a lot.”
Valentina Nikolaevna’s apartment was in an old brick building in the city center. Three rooms, high ceilings, creaking parquet. The door was opened by a well-groomed woman of about fifty-five, with a neat hairstyle and attentive brown eyes.
“You must be Kira,” Valentina Nikolaevna gave the girl an appraising look, lingering on the dress, shoes, and handbag. “Come in.”
Kira handed over a bouquet of white chrysanthemums she’d spent a full half hour choosing at the florist’s.
“Thank you,” the future mother-in-law accepted the flowers with a cool smirk. “Chrysanthemums… an interesting choice.”
Over dinner, Valentina Nikolaevna asked Kira about her work. The girl talked about her position as a manager at a large logistics company, a recent promotion, and her plans for career growth.
“A career is all well and good,” Valentina Nikolaevna took a sip of wine. “But a woman should remember what’s most important: supporting not only her husband, but his parents, too. That’s how it’s done in our family.”
Kira felt her shoulders tense, but the smile didn’t leave her face.
“I believe that in a modern family everyone supports each other—mutually.”
“Modern…” Valentina Nikolaevna snorted. “Pavlik, pour me more wine.”
Her son jumped up at once and filled his mother’s glass. Kira noticed how Valentina Nikolaevna nodded with satisfaction, as if a test had been passed.
After dinner, when Pavel drove Kira home, the girl couldn’t hold back.
“Is your mother… is she always like that?”
“Like what?”
“Well… judgmental.”
Pavel laughed and hugged Kira.
“Mom just worries about me. I’m an only son. Dad died ten years ago, and she’s been alone ever since. Give her time—she’ll get used to you.”
A week after the introduction, Kira got a call from an unfamiliar number. Valentina Nikolaevna’s voice sounded friendlier than in person.
“Kirochka, hello, dear. I have a small favor to ask. You see, I need to buy a new face cream and my pension is delayed. Could you lend me fifteen thousand? I’ll pay you back as soon as I get it.”
Kira was silent for a second, gathering her thoughts.
“Valentina Nikolaevna, I’m sorry, but I don’t lend money. It’s a principle.”
“Not even to your future mother-in-law?” Steel crept into her voice.
“I’m sorry, but Pavel and I aren’t engaged yet. And even if we were… I really don’t lend money, not even to my own parents.”
The call ended without a goodbye.
That evening Pavel phoned, upset.
“Kira, Mom said you refused to help her?”
“Pavel, your mother asked me for a loan. We’ve known each other a week.”
“But she’s alone, it’s hard for her. Her pension is small, and she has to live on something.”
“Wait, you said your father left a good inheritance. The apartment, the dacha, savings.”
“Well, yes, but that’s an untouchable reserve. Mom’s saving it for a rainy day.”
Kira bit her tongue. She didn’t want to argue, but the bad taste lingered.
In October it was Pavel’s birthday. Kira spent a long time choosing a gift and settled on a Swiss watch—Pavel had been dreaming about one for ages. They celebrated at a restaurant, with Valentina Nikolaevna at the head of the table.
“Wow, what a present!” the future mother-in-law exclaimed, examining the box. “I wouldn’t mind that kind of luck myself. I am the mother of your future husband, Kira. My birthday’s in November—keep that in mind.”
Kira forced a smile, but inside she was boiling. Pavel just shrugged awkwardly, as if to say, don’t pay attention.
From that evening on, Valentina Nikolaevna’s calls became more frequent. She needed someone to take her grocery shopping—going alone was hard; could Kira help? A holiday was coming up—would the future daughter-in-law buy something for the table? The washing machine had suddenly broken—could she lend money for the repair?
Kira politely refused, citing busyness and financial difficulties that weren’t real. She just clearly saw where this was headed.
“Listen, I think your future mother-in-law sees you as a cash cow,” her friend Lena said over coffee.
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Kira, she’s asked you for money about ten times in two months. Is that normal?”
“Pavel says things really are tough for her.”
“She has a three-room apartment in the center and a dacha. What’s so tough? Be careful not to get bogged down in this. First you’ll be supporting the mother-in-law, then it’ll turn out Pavel has a bunch of relatives who all need help.”
Kira waved it off, but her friend’s words lodged like a splinter.
In November, Pavel proposed. A romantic dinner, a diamond ring, tears of joy—everything by the book. The next day, wedding planning began.
“We absolutely need a good restaurant,” declared Valentina Nikolaevna, who of course was brought into the planning. “I’ve found a wonderful hall at the Metropol.”
“Mom, that’s very expensive,” Pavel said cautiously.
“Well, Kira has a good job. And her parents will surely help. Right, dear?”
Kira clenched her fists under the table.
“My parents live in another city; they have their own expenses. We were planning a modest wedding.”
“Modest?” Valentina Nikolaevna raised her eyebrows. “Pavlik, you only get married once. Can’t your bride make an effort for such an occasion?”
“Mom, let’s discuss this later,” Pavel was clearly uncomfortable.
“What’s to discuss? Kira needs to understand what kind of family she’s entering. We’re used to doing everything at the highest level.”
“On whose money are you used to doing that?” Kira couldn’t help herself.
Valentina Nikolaevna pressed her lips together and stood up from the table.
“Pavel, talk to your fiancée about manners.”
When the future mother-in-law went to the kitchen, Pavel gave Kira a reproachful look.
“Why are you provoking her?”
“Me? Provoking? Pavel, your mother is demanding that I pay for a banquet at the Metropol!”
“She just wants what’s best for us.”
“For us, or for herself? So she can brag to her girlfriends?”
“Kira, don’t start. Mom has done a lot for me.”
The conversation hit a dead end. Kira understood that Pavel would never go against his mother.
In December, the wedding preparations kicked into high gear. Valentina Nikolaevna took personal control of the process. The guest list ballooned to two hundred people—three quarters of them were the future mother-in-law’s friends and acquaintances.
“This is our wedding, not your mother’s,” Kira tried to object.
“Mom knows better how things should be,” Pavel would answer. “She has experience.”
One evening Kira came to Pavel’s earlier than usual. She had a key to her fiancé’s apartment, so she let herself in quietly, not wanting to make noise. Voices drifted from the living room—Pavel was talking to his mother.
“Don’t worry, son,” Valentina Nikolaevna was saying. “Everything will sort itself out after the wedding. Kira will get used to helping us.”
“Mom, she already does a lot.”
“A lot? Pavlik, she refused to buy me a face cream! A face cream! It’s pennies to her.”
“Well, Mom…”
“Listen to me carefully. After the wedding, you’re the head of the family. If you want, she’ll sell her apartment, buy a car, and support me. The main thing is to set the tone properly.”
Kira froze in the hallway. Her heart was pounding so hard it seemed it must be audible in the living room.
“Mom, I love Kira. I don’t want to use her.”
“Who said anything about using her? There should just be order in a family. A wife helps her husband and his relatives. That’s normal.”
“But she works too; she gets tired.”
“So what? I worked all my life, supported your father, and raised you. And this Kira of yours only thinks about her career.”
Kira took a step back, but a floorboard betrayed her with a creak. The voices in the living room fell silent.
“Who’s there?” Pavel asked.
She had to go in. Kira tried to keep her face neutral, as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
“Hi, I got off early. Am I interrupting?”
Valentina Nikolaevna gave the future bride a measuring look.
“We were just discussing wedding expenses. Pavlik, I’ll go—I have errands.”
The future mother-in-law headed for the door but turned back to her son at the threshold:
“Remember what I told you.”
When the door closed behind her, Pavel hugged Kira.
“Shall we have dinner? I made pasta.”
“Pavel, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“About your mother. About her constant hints about money. About how she thinks I’m obligated to support her.”
Pavel pulled back and frowned.
“Kira, you’re exaggerating. Mom is just… eccentric.”
“Eccentric? Pavel, I heard your conversation.”
Her fiancé paled.
“What exactly did you hear?”
“Enough. Your mother is planning to live at my expense after the wedding.”
“She didn’t mean it like that…”
“Didn’t mean what, exactly? Pavel, from the very first day your mother has seen me as a wallet!”
Pavel sat down on the couch and rubbed his face with his hands.
“What do you want from me? To cut my mother off?”
“I want you to take my side for once!”
“Kira, she’s my mother. The only close person I had before I met you.”
“And what am I?”
“You’re the woman I love. But Mom…”
“I see,” Kira picked up her bag. “I need to think.”
At home, Kira couldn’t calm down. She paced the apartment, trying to sort things out. Does Pavel love her? Apparently, yes. Is he ready to defend her interests? Obviously not.
The next day, Valentina Nikolaevna called.
“Kira, we need to meet. Without Pavel.”
“Why?”
“To have a heart-to-heart, like future relatives.”
They met at the same café where, a year before, Kira had waited for Pavel before first meeting his mother. Full circle.
Valentina Nikolaevna ordered coffee; Kira, tea. They were silent for a few minutes.
“Kira, let’s be frank,” the future mother-in-law began. “You’re not a bad girl, but you’re too independent. In our family, it’s not customary for a wife to set conditions.”
“What is customary? For a wife to quietly pay for all her husband’s relatives’ whims?”
“Not whims—needs. I raised Pavel alone and spent my life on him. Don’t I deserve support in my old age?”
“Valentina Nikolaevna, you’re fifty-six. You have an apartment, a dacha, savings. What support?”
“Money runs out, dear. And one has to live on something.”
“Have you tried working?”
Valentina Nikolaevna pressed her lips together.
“I worked all my life. Now I want to rest. And my son and his wife should provide me a decent old age.”
“Should? By what right?”
“By a mother’s right!”
Kira stood up.
“Thank you for your honesty, Valentina Nikolaevna. Now I know exactly what to do.”
That evening Kira met Pavel in the park.
“Pavel, I’ve been thinking all day. And I’ve made a decision.”
“What decision?” her fiancé was clearly nervous.
“Either you set boundaries with your mother, or we break up.”
“Kira, is that an ultimatum?”
“It’s a request. I don’t want to marry someone who will let his mother climb on my shoulders.”
“Kira, but she’s my mother…”
“And I’m your future wife. Or not anymore?”
Pavel was silent, staring at the ground. Kira waited for an answer, counting seconds in her head.
“I need time to think,” he finally forced out.
“Take it. You have a week.”
Kira turned and walked toward the park exit. Behind her, Pavel called:
“Kira, wait!”
But she didn’t look back. Enough waiting.
At home, Kira showered, made tea, and sat by the window. The phone was silent—no calls, no messages. Her mind kept replaying the words Valentina Nikolaevna had said to her son behind closed doors: “Thanks to this little fool, we’ll live in luxury.”
Kira froze with the cup in her hands. Blood rushed to her face—the words sounded in her memory like a slap. “Little fool.” That’s what the future mother-in-law called her behind her back. And Pavel had stayed silent—no objections, no defense.
In the morning, Kira decided to give her fiancé one last chance. They met at Pavel’s place; Valentina Nikolaevna wasn’t there—she’d gone to a friend’s.
“Pavel, it hurts when your mother sees me as a sponsor. Yesterday I heard Valentina Nikolaevna call me a little fool and say that thanks to me you’ll live in luxury.”
Pavel laughed and hugged Kira.
“You’re taking everything too much to heart. Mom is just emotional—don’t pay attention to every word.”
“Pavel, your mother said outright that after the wedding I’d be supporting her!”
“Kira, why are you being childish? Mom was joking. That’s her sense of humor.”
“Humor? Calling me a little fool is humor?”
Pavel let go of her and sat on the couch.
“Listen, I’ll talk to Mom. I’ll ask her to be more restrained. But you should also try not to wind yourself up.”
“I’m winding myself up? Pavel, your mother has been begging me for money for two months!”
“She’s not begging—she’s asking for help. That’s different.”
Kira realized it was useless. Pavel would never see the truth, because he didn’t want to.
That night, Kira didn’t sleep. She lay in the dark, sifting through the past months. The first meeting—the appraising look from Valentina Nikolaevna. The hints over dinner. The calls asking for money. The demand for an expensive wedding at the bride’s expense. And the crowning piece—the overheard conversation.
In every act of the future mother-in-law she now saw calculation. And in Pavel—indifference to Kira’s feelings. Not once had he taken her side; he always found excuses for his mother.
By morning, her decision had fully formed.
Kira called Pavel and asked to meet at the café—the same one where, a year ago, she’d waited for him before meeting his mother.
Pavel arrived with a bouquet of roses, smiling, sure everything had blown over.
“Kira, I talked to Mom. She promised to be more delicate.”
Kira nodded, slipped the diamond ring off her finger, and set it on the table between them.
“I’m not willing to be your source of income.”
Pavel froze, unable to believe she was serious. The bouquet slipped from his hands, roses scattering across the floor.
“Kira, what are you doing? Because of yesterday’s conversation?”
“Because of everything, Pavel. Because your mother sees me as a wallet. Because you allow it.”
“But… but Mom was joking! She blurted out something stupid in the heat of the moment!”
“Joking? Pavel, for two months Valentina Nikolaevna has been steadily preparing the ground to climb onto my back. And you pretend nothing is happening.”
“Kira, let’s not make any rash decisions. We love each other!”
“Love isn’t just words, Pavel. It’s actions. Protection. Support. Where is your support when your mother humiliates me?”
“She’s not humiliating you!”
“Calling me a little fool isn’t humiliating?”
Pavel blushed and began to make excuses, but looked pathetic.
“She just phrased it badly… She didn’t mean—”
“Keep your jokes to yourselves. I’m not taking part in this circus.”
“Kira, wait! Let’s talk it through! I’ll have a serious talk with Mom!”
“Too late, Pavel. If you couldn’t learn to stand up for me in a year, you won’t learn after we’re married.”
Kira stood, leaving the ring on the table.
“Wait! You can’t just walk away like this! The wedding’s in two months! Guests are invited!”
“Cancel it. Tell them the bride turned out to be too independent. Your mother will understand.”
Kira walked out of the café without looking back. Pavel stayed seated among the fallen roses.
An hour later the phone rang. Valentina Nikolaevna was shouting so loudly that Kira had to hold the phone away from her ear.
“Are you out of your mind? How dare you dump my son! You’re stealing our happy future!”
“Please calm down, Valentina Nikolaevna.”
“Don’t you tell me what to do! Because of your whims Pavlik is suffering! Go back this instant and apologize!”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? You think you’ll find better? Who needs you with your principles!”
“That’s my problem. Goodbye, Valentina Nikolaevna.”
Kira hung up. There would be no more calls from that number—she blocked both Pavel and his mother.
That evening her friend Lena came over with a bottle of wine and some chocolate.
“Tell me everything.”
Kira told her—from the first meeting to today’s breakup. Lena listened, nodded, and sometimes shook her head.
“You know, I’m proud of you. Not everyone would dare walk away two months before the wedding.”
“It was hard. I loved Pavel.”
“Loved. Past tense. That’s right. Better now than spending decades paying for other people’s desires.”
“Maybe I overreacted? Maybe I should have tried to mend things with Valentina Nikolaevna?”
“Kira, she called you a little fool and planned to live off you. What exactly is there to mend?”
The next day at work, colleagues noticed that Kira no longer wore a ring.
“Did you two fight?” Svetlana from the neighboring department asked sympathetically.
“We split up. For good.”
“But you looked so good together!”
“Appearances are deceiving.”
Her boss, Elena Viktorovna, called Kira into her office.
“I heard there’ve been some changes in your personal life?”
“Yes, I broke off the engagement.”
“Is it hard?”
“Not anymore. I made the right decision.”
“You know, we’re opening a branch in St. Petersburg. We’re looking for a director. Interested?”
Kira thought about it. New city, new position, new life.
“Very interested.”
“Then get your documents ready. If everything’s in order, you’ll move in a month.”
At home Kira started sorting through her things. In the closet hung the dress she’d bought for the engagement. In a drawer lay brochures from bridal salons. On the shelf were photos of her and Pavel together.
All of it went into a garbage bag. Except for one thing—a note Kira found in her coat pocket. In her own handwriting she’d written a month earlier: “Remember—you deserve love and respect.”
Back then, those words were an attempt to prop herself up. Now they had become a motto.
Two weeks later, Pavel tried to see her. He ambushed her near work.
“Kira, let’s talk!”
“About what?”
“I spoke with Mom. She’s ready to apologize.”
“No need, Pavel. I’m moving to St. Petersburg.”
“What? When?”
“In two weeks. A promotion.”
“But… what about us?”
“There is no ‘us,’ Pavel. You chose your mother. Live with that choice.”
“Kira, I love you!”
“Love without respect is an empty sound. Goodbye, Pavel.”
A month later, Kira stood on Palace Square in St. Petersburg. A fine drizzle was falling, but her mood was wonderful. Her new apartment was furnished, things were going great at work, and best of all—no one thought of her as a little fool or a source of income.
Her phone chimed—a message from Lena: “How are you?”
“Great! Making vacation plans. Thinking of dashing off to Italy.”
“Alone?”
“Why not? I decide how to spend my money now.”
“Right! By the way, heard the news? Pavel and his mom moved into a studio on the outskirts. Valentina Nikolaevna sold the apartment in the center—says she burned through all the savings.”
Kira smirked. So there had been savings after all; the future mother-in-law had simply hoped to live at someone else’s expense.
“Not my problem,” Kira replied, and put her phone away.
Ahead lay a new day, new opportunities, new meetings. And most importantly—freedom from other people’s greed and manipulation.
That evening, settled in a cozy café with a view of the Neva, Kira raised a glass of wine. The toast was simple—to having heard those words in time. Words that became her salvation.
“Thanks to this little fool, we’ll live in luxury”—the phrase that shattered her illusions and opened her eyes. The phrase that helped her avoid an unhappy marriage.
Kira smiled at her reflection in the window. A fool? No. A smart woman who realized in time that it’s better to be alone than with those who see you only as a source of money.
And somewhere in a one-room Moscow apartment, Valentina Nikolaevna was scolding her son for the missed windfall. Pavel sat silent, understanding that he hadn’t just lost a fiancée. He’d lost a woman who could have been a true support—if only he had managed to be a support for her.
But that was no longer Kira’s story. Hers was only just beginning.
