Maya leaned back in her office chair and stretched, trying to loosen the stiffness in her neck. The clock on her monitor read 8:30 p.m. Her coworkers had long since gone home, and the open-plan office was wrapped in silence. She saved her report, shut down her programs, and gathered her things. Her job as a senior analyst at a large IT company demanded everything from her, but it paid accordingly—280,000 rubles a month, plus quarterly bonuses.
Alexey was waiting for her outside the building, holding a bag of hot food from a café.
“Working late again,” he said, kissing her lightly on the temple. “I bought your favorite pasta.”
“Thanks,” Maya said with a tired smile. “How was your day?”
“The usual.” Alexey shrugged. “Meetings, negotiations, reports. My boss is unhappy with the numbers again.”
Alexey worked as a sales manager for a small trading company. His salary barely reached 100,000 rubles, with no bonuses or extra pay. Maya earned nearly three times as much, but she always tried not to make an issue of it. He never seemed offended or embarrassed by the difference. On the contrary, he had always supported her.
The first months after their wedding were calm and happy. They furnished their rented apartment, made plans for the future, and dreamed about buying a place of their own. Every month Maya set money aside for a mortgage down payment.
Everything changed when the calls from her mother-in-law began.
Regina Nikolaevna always called late in the evening, just when Maya came home exhausted from work.
“Alyosha, dear, we’re in a bit of trouble,” her mother-in-law would say in a pitiful voice. “The utility bills have gone up, and we just don’t have enough. Can you help?”
Alexey would listen, nod, frown.
“Of course, Mom. Don’t worry. We’ll send something.”
Maya sat beside him, catching only half the conversation. When he hung up, she asked,
“What happened?”
“My parents need help,” Alexey said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dad lost part of his side income, and now they’re barely getting by. Could we send them twenty thousand?”
Maya nodded, though something tightened inside her. His parents lived in their own two-bedroom apartment. Both of them received pensions, small but steady. Konstantin Vladimirovich sometimes earned extra money doing minor repairs for acquaintances. Twenty thousand rubles was not a disaster, but it still stung.
A week later, Regina Nikolaevna called again.
“Alyosha, we need a little more help. Medication has gotten so expensive, and the doctor prescribed something new.”
“How much do you need, Mom?”
“Thirty thousand should do.”
Alexey looked at Maya. Without a word, she took out her phone, opened her banking app, and transferred the money to her mother-in-law’s card. He kissed her gratefully on the cheek.
“You’re the best. Mom will get back on her feet soon. Things will settle down.”
Maya wanted to believe him.
She understood that Alexey’s salary was too small for him to support his parents on his own. The financial burden fell almost entirely on her.
Regina Nikolaevna’s calls became routine. Every two weeks there was some new crisis—a broken refrigerator, overdue bills, new shoes, doctor visits. Each time, Alexey asked Maya to help, explaining that it was only temporary.
Every month she sent twenty to thirty thousand rubles. Their savings for a future apartment slowly but steadily shrank. After six months of marriage, Maya did the math and realized she had already handed over 180,000 rubles to Alexey’s parents.
It was a serious amount.
Still, the requests never stopped.
Regina Nikolaevna and Konstantin Vladimirovich quickly got used to regular financial support. Her mother-in-law began planning purchases in advance, already assuming her daughter-in-law would cover them. Maya increasingly felt as though she was expected to support not only her own household, but Alexey’s parents as well.
“One thing I don’t understand,” Maya said carefully one evening, “why don’t your parents look for some kind of extra income? Your father could probably find work as a watchman or security guard.”
“My father isn’t young anymore,” Alexey replied at once. “He’s sixty-two. What kind of job do you expect him to take at that age?”
“Something light. Or your mother could do a little part-time work.”
“My mother is sick,” he said sharply. “You know that.”
Maya fell silent.
That conversation went nowhere, and Alexey immediately became defensive. She decided not to raise the subject again.
Three years passed.
Maya kept sending money to his parents in silence. Alexey began taking her help for granted. He rarely thanked her and never suggested looking for another solution. Regina Nikolaevna called every week now, always with a fresh need.
One morning, while sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, Maya opened her banking app and started adding everything up. She scrolled through the transfers she had made over the last three years, summing them one by one.
The final number made her go cold.
1,120,000 rubles.
She placed her phone on the table and closed her eyes.
More than a million rubles.
Enough for a used car. Enough for the down payment on an apartment. Enough for several trips abroad.
“What are you thinking about?” Alexey asked as he walked into the kitchen and poured himself some coffee.
“I counted how much money I’ve given your parents over the last three years,” Maya said quietly. “It’s over a million.”
“So?” he said with a shrug. “We’re helping family. That’s normal.”
“Normal?” Maya looked up at him. “I work from morning to night, I save for a home, and half of it disappears into your parents’ pocket.”
“Half is an exaggeration,” he said, sitting down. “You earn good money. We’re not struggling.”
“We’re not struggling because I earn good money,” Maya replied. “What if I earned what you do?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he said, frowning. “Maya, don’t start.”
She said nothing more and finished her now-cold coffee.
Another dead end.
A week later, Alexey came home with what he called a practical solution.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began carefully. “Maybe you could get Mom an extra bank card?”
“What?” Maya looked up from her laptop. “Why?”
“So she doesn’t have to keep asking every time,” he explained. “It humiliates her to call and beg for money all the time. If you give her a card linked to your account and just set a limit, she’ll only use what she needs.”
“Alyosha, that’s a bad idea,” Maya said, shaking her head. “A very bad idea.”
“Why?” he asked, surprised. “It would make things easier for everyone. She won’t need to call, and you won’t need to keep transferring money.”
“Because your mother will spend more,” Maya said patiently. “When someone has to ask, they think about the amount. When they have direct access, they feel freer.”
“My mother isn’t like that,” Alexey said, offended. “She’s responsible.”
“No, Alyosha.”
“Maya, please.” He sat beside her and took her hand. “Do it for me. For Mom. It really is hard for her to keep asking.”
Maya resisted for a long time.
Alexey kept persuading her for days, coming up with arguments, promising he would monitor his mother’s spending. Maya knew this was a mistake, but he pushed so persistently that eventually she gave in.
She ordered an additional card tied to her main account and set a monthly limit of 30,000 rubles. Alexey handed it to Regina Nikolaevna himself and explained the conditions.
The first month, her mother-in-law spent 22,000—groceries, medicine, utilities.
Maya checked the statement and relaxed a little.
Maybe Alexey was right.
The second month, the spending came to 28,000. The third, exactly 30,000. Regina Nikolaevna used the full limit down to the last ruble. Maya became wary, but at least it stayed within the agreed boundaries.
Six months later, the spending changed.
There were charges from clothing stores, beauty salons, and restaurants.
Maya confronted Alexey after checking the statement.
“Your mother is spending money in restaurants,” she said, holding out her phone. “Look. Four thousand for dinner.”
“So what?” Alexey shrugged. “Maybe she was celebrating a birthday.”
“Every week?” Maya tapped the screen. “And here—an eight-thousand-ruble dress.”
“Maya, is she supposed to spend money only on food?” he shot back. “Maybe she wants to look decent.”
“On my money,” Maya said.
“On our money,” Alexey corrected her. “We’re a family.”
Maya pressed her lips together and turned away.
There was no point arguing.
Regina Nikolaevna grew bolder the longer she had access to the card. She bought expensive groceries, visited salons, updated her wardrobe. Every month she spent the full 30,000.
Then, on a Thursday evening, while Maya was checking emails, a bank notification flashed across her screen.
A charge for 100,000 rubles.
Maya froze.
She read it again.
100,000.
She opened the app, scrolled through the recent transactions, and found it: a payment to a travel agency called Southern Coast.
The charge had been made using Regina Nikolaevna’s card.
Her hands started trembling.
Without thinking about the time or her tone, Maya called her mother-in-law.
“Hello, Maya?” Regina Nikolaevna sounded calm, almost cheerful.
“What is this one-hundred-thousand-ruble charge?” Maya burst out. “A travel agency? What is that?”
“Oh, that,” her mother-in-law said with a laugh. “Kolya and I bought a vacation package. We’re going to Sochi for two weeks. We’ve been dreaming about it for ages.”
“You what?” Maya could barely believe what she was hearing. “You spent one hundred thousand of my money on a vacation?”
“Maya, don’t shout,” Regina Nikolaevna said coolly. “Why are you making such a fuss? It’s not for fun—it’s for health. The doctor recommended sea air for Kostya.”
“That is my money!” Maya’s voice cracked into a shout. “You had no right!”
“Oh, but I did,” Regina Nikolaevna replied smoothly. “I have the card, don’t I? Alyosha gave it to me and said to use it. So I did.”
“I set a thirty-thousand limit! Where did you get one hundred?”
“The thirty-thousand limit must only apply to regular store purchases,” she explained. “Apparently it doesn’t affect major transactions. I checked. It went through just fine.”
“How could you do this?” Maya pressed a hand to her head. “That’s a huge amount of money!”
“Oh, Maya, don’t be so stingy,” her mother-in-law sighed. “You earn very well. Surely you don’t begrudge family this much. It’s not as if we go to the sea every day.”
“I’m not being stingy, I—”
“All right, I’m busy,” Regina Nikolaevna interrupted. “I need to pack. Don’t work yourself up over nothing.”
And she hung up.
Maya stood in the middle of the living room, phone in hand, unable to process what had just happened.
One hundred thousand rubles.
On a holiday.
Without even asking.
Alexey came out of the bedroom, having heard her shouting.
“What happened?”
Maya turned to him, her face burning with fury.
“Your mother spent one hundred thousand rubles on a trip to Sochi! One hundred thousand! Without asking! And then told me I was being greedy!”
“Wait, wait,” Alexey said, raising both hands. “One hundred thousand? How?”
“It turns out the limit doesn’t apply to large payments!” Maya threw her phone onto the sofa. “Your precious mother figured it out and took advantage of it!”
“Well… maybe they really do need the отдых,” he said uncertainly. “Dad’s tired, and if the doctor recommended—”
“Are you serious?” Maya stared at him. “You’re defending her?”
“I’m not defending her,” he said, stepping back. “I’m just saying—”
“Saying what? That she has the right to spend my money however she likes?”
“Maya, it’s our money,” he tried again. “We’re a family.”
“Our money?” She let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “It is my money. I earn it. You make three times less than I do!”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Alexey’s face turned pale.
“It has everything to do with it! I have been feeding your family for three years!” she shouted. “I gave them over a million rubles! And apparently that still isn’t enough!”
“Mom can’t help having a tiny pension,” Alexey said stubbornly. “You make good money. You shouldn’t mind.”
Maya looked at him with a cold, steady expression.
“Then let your mommy try living without my money for a change,” she said in an icy voice.
She grabbed her phone, opened the banking app, found Regina Nikolaevna’s additional card, and hit the button.
Block card.
She confirmed the action.
Done.
“What did you do?” Alexey yelled. “Unblock it right now!”
“No,” Maya said calmly. “Not another ruble.”
“You can’t do that!” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “My mother was counting on that money!”
“Yes, I can,” Maya replied, pulling away. “It’s my card, my account, and my money.”
“You’re selfish!” Alexey kicked a chair. “Cheap! You don’t want to help family!”
“Family?” Maya repeated. “You mean your parents. My family is me. And from now on, I’ll be spending my money on myself.”
“My mother will never forgive this insult,” he warned.
“That’s fine with me,” Maya said with a shrug.
The next three days passed in silence.
Alexey stopped speaking to her, slept on the sofa, and left for work early every morning. Maya made no effort to reconcile.
Instead, she felt an unfamiliar sense of relief.
For the first time in years, she did not have to wonder how much money would disappear into her mother-in-law’s account.
On Sunday, the doorbell rang.
Maya opened the door and found Regina Nikolaevna standing there, furious. Her mother-in-law stormed into the apartment without taking off her shoes.
“You!” she shouted, jabbing a finger at Maya. “How dare you block that card?”
“Very easily,” Maya replied, crossing her arms. “I pressed a button.”
“Unblock it immediately!” Regina Nikolaevna demanded. “I’m out of money! I can’t even buy groceries!”
“You have a pension,” Maya said coldly. “Live on that.”
“What pension?” Regina Nikolaevna shrieked. “It’s nothing! I need money! Give the card back!”
“No.”
“Alyosha!” Regina Nikolaevna turned to her son. “Tell her! She is obligated to help the family!”
“Mom’s right,” Alexey said, stepping toward Maya. “Stop being ridiculous and unblock the card.”
“I said no,” Maya replied, without flinching. “You’re not getting another cent from me.”
“You ungrateful woman!” Regina Nikolaevna screamed. “We accepted you into this family! We treated you like a daughter!”
“A daughter?” Maya laughed. “No. You treated me like a cash machine. I supported you for three years. I gave you over a million rubles. That ends now.”
“A million!” Regina Nikolaevna mocked. “So what? You earn so much! You shouldn’t care!”
“I do care,” Maya said firmly. “Very much. Because it’s my money, and I earned it.”
“Alyosha, do you hear how she’s talking to me?” Regina Nikolaevna grabbed her son’s arm. “Are you going to let her do this?”
Alexey stood there in silence, fists clenched.
Then he turned and walked into the bedroom.
A moment later he came back with a bag, stuffing his clothes into it in a rush.
“What are you doing?” Maya asked.
“I’m leaving,” he said without looking at her. “I can’t live with someone this selfish. Someone who doesn’t value family.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t value family,” Maya replied. “Your wife has never mattered to you. Only your mommy.”
“Shut up!” Alexey snapped. “My mother gave her whole life to me! And what about you? All you do is work! You’re not a woman—you’re a machine!”
“I work,” Maya said evenly, “so your parents can eat.”
Alexey threw the bag over his shoulder and walked out. Regina Nikolaevna shot Maya a look full of hatred and followed him. The door slammed behind them.
Maya sank onto the sofa and let out a long breath.
The apartment fell silent.
She picked up her phone and opened the banking app again.
The money was there—her money, earned through hard work.
No one would spend it without her permission ever again.
A month later, she received notice that Alexey had filed for divorce. He demanded a division of property, though there was almost nothing to divide. The apartment was rented. Her savings remained hers. There had been no prenup, but the account had been opened before the marriage.
Regina Nikolaevna called several times, trying to persuade Maya to come to her senses and forgive her son. Maya got tired of the whining and blocked her number too.
The divorce went through quickly. There were no children, and very little shared property. Alexey picked up the rest of his belongings while Maya was at work and left the keys on the hallway table.
Maya stayed alone in the rented apartment.
One evening she settled onto the sofa, opened her laptop, and stared at a listing for a one-room apartment in a new building.
Price: four million rubles.
She calculated her savings.
Now that she no longer had to support her ex-husband’s parents, she would have enough for a down payment in six months.
Maya added the listing to her favorites and smiled.
For the first time in three years, she felt free.
Free from other people’s demands. Free from obligations she had never agreed to. Free from the constant pressure of supporting people who treated her help as something they were entitled to.
She did not feel lonely.
Being alone did not mean being unhappy.
Being alone meant being free to decide what to do with her own life and her own money.
She closed the laptop.
Her heart felt light.
A new life was waiting for her—one without a manipulative mother-in-law, without endless demands, without a husband who always chose his mother over his wife.
And that life already seemed far better than the one she had left behind.
