“Four hundred thousand is only the deposit!” my mother-in-law declared. In response, I gave my husband an ultimatum and took the rest of our savings.
“I’m transferring two hundred and fifty thousand to my personal account. And as for the one hundred and fifty thousand you’ve already taken, you two can deal with that yourselves,” I said, looking straight into my husband’s guilty eyes.
My mother-in-law gasped and dramatically clutched her chest, but it no longer affected me. After seven years of marriage, I had learned to recognize her performances from the very first second.
It had all started an hour earlier at a home improvement hypermarket. I was standing at the checkout, arranging delivery for ceramic tiles for our bathroom, when my phone rang. My husband’s name appeared on the screen.
I pressed the phone between my shoulder and ear while entering my PIN into the payment terminal.
“Natasha, where are you right now?” Volodya’s voice sounded nervous, with that same ingratiating tone he usually used after doing something wrong.
“At Stroymarket, paying for the tiles. Remember the color we chose over the weekend? What happened?”
“Well, there’s something we need to talk about… Mom came over. Come home as soon as you can. We need to discuss something.”
I froze with my bank card still between my fingers.
My mother-in-law. Nadezhda Sergeyevna. She had traveled two hundred kilometers from Tver without giving us a single warning. In our family, that always meant one thing: she had already made some decision behind our backs and had now arrived to present it as a done deal.
I collected the receipts, loaded the boxes into the trunk, and drove home. The entire way, unpleasant thoughts kept circling in my head. Had she decided to start another argument about our vacation plans? Or had she brought yet another set of “important” instructions about how I should properly run my household?
After parking in the courtyard, I went up to our fourth-floor apartment. The front door was unlocked. The hallway smelled of fried onions and heavy perfume—the trademark combination that always announced Nadezhda Sergeyevna’s presence.
A carefully staged little scene was unfolding in the kitchen.
My mother-in-law sat at the table like a queen on her throne—a large woman with a hard stare and the same short perm she had worn for years. A mug of tea sat in front of her. Volodya sat opposite her with his head lowered, studying the tablecloth with remarkable concentration.
“Natashenka!” Nadezhda Sergeyevna greeted me with exaggerated warmth and a broad smile. “Come in, sit down. We have something to discuss.”
I sat on the edge of a chair. My instincts told me immediately that this conversation was not going to end well.
“Vova, explain it to your wife,” my mother-in-law ordered, nodding toward me.
My husband cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck, and only then forced himself to look up.
“Natasha, well… Mom is having a hard time living alone in Tver. Something is constantly breaking in the house, the heating barely works in winter, and the pipes are old. She decided to move here to our city and found a decent one-bedroom apartment nearby. But she doesn’t have enough money for the mortgage down payment. We thought we could add some money from our savings.”
“We thought?” I repeated.
“Well, I decided that we’re obligated to help her. She needs four hundred thousand.”
At that moment, something inside me seemed to drop.
Four hundred thousand rubles.
That was exactly how much we had managed to save over a year and a half of exhausting work. We had been putting that money aside for a major renovation of the apartment we lived in. The old plumbing in our bathroom desperately needed replacing, cold air came through every crack in the kitchen during winter, and the back room—the one we planned to turn into a nursery—still had wallpaper left by the previous owners.
“Four hundred thousand,” I said slowly. “So basically all our savings.”
“Why all of it?” Volodya cut in, suddenly gesturing actively. “There was still some money left on the card…”
“Twelve thousand, Volodya. We have twelve thousand for current expenses and four hundred and eight thousand in the savings account. You’re suggesting we give your mother practically everything we have, down to the last ruble?”
“Natasha, dear,” Nadezhda Sergeyevna interrupted in an overly sweet voice. “I’m not taking it as a gift. I’ll pay it back! I’ll sell my plot and little house in Tver and get some money from that. My pension isn’t bad either. I’ll cut back on expenses. I’ll repay everything completely within a couple of years.”
“A couple of years,” I repeated. “And our renovation gets postponed again? We were planning to hire a crew next month.”
“Oh, what is it with this renovation of yours?” my mother-in-law said dismissively, waving her hand. “You’re not living in a barn. You have walls, the roof doesn’t leak, and water comes out of the tap. When I was young, five people lived together in one dorm room and nobody fell apart because of it.”
I looked at my husband.
He stayed silent, avoiding my eyes.
He knew perfectly well why that renovation mattered so much to me. I worked as a senior administrator at a private clinic and often took weekend shifts.
Volodya worked as a senior mechanic at an auto repair shop. We had both worked ourselves to exhaustion, saving every spare ruble because we were planning to have a child.
I was thirty-two, and the doctors had told me directly that I shouldn’t postpone pregnancy much longer. But first, we wanted to put the apartment in order and create a proper separate room for the baby.
“Volodya,” I said quietly. “We planned everything. First the renovation, then maternity leave. You were the one who drew the layout showing where the crib would go.”
“I remember, Natasha,” he muttered. “But she’s my mother. How can I refuse when she’s struggling?”
“And I’m not struggling?” My breath caught. “For the past year and a half, I’ve been taking holiday shifts at work. We didn’t even go anywhere this summer because we were saving!”
“All you think about is money!” my mother-in-law snapped, pursing her lips. “What about family feelings? Volodya is my only son. Who else is supposed to help me in my old age?”
“Nadezhda Sergeyevna, we already help you all the time,” I replied, trying not to raise my voice. “We transfer fifteen thousand to you every month. Last autumn, we paid for your entire roof repair, and Volodya personally went there for three weeks. But four hundred thousand represents our life plans.”
“Plans, she says!” my mother-in-law scoffed. “You’ve been married seven years and still don’t have children. Maybe you never will, and all that money will just disappear into your tiles and expensive wallpaper!”
That was a low blow.
My mother-in-law knew perfectly well how painful the subject of pregnancy was for me, and she deliberately pressed exactly where it hurt most.
Then I noticed Volodya flinch and draw his shoulders in even more tightly.
There was something unnatural about how nervous he was. He wasn’t simply defending his mother.
He was obviously afraid of something.
“Volodya,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. “Look at me.”
He reluctantly raised his gaze.
“Have you already transferred the money?”
A ringing silence fell over the kitchen.
My mother-in-law suddenly became very interested in her teacup. My husband sighed heavily and swallowed.
“I… I paid the deposit on that apartment. One hundred and fifty thousand. This morning.”
I slowly leaned back against the chair.
The pieces finally fell into place.
They hadn’t gathered here to ask my opinion at all.
Everything had already been decided without me.
They were simply presenting me with a finished decision, expecting me to protest for a while and then eventually give in.
Four hundred thousand rubles—one hundred and fifty thousand of which had already been handed to a stranger as a non-refundable deposit.
“You withdrew money from our joint account without my consent,” I stated.
“Natasha, it was a really good deal! Someone else could have taken the apartment at any moment. The owner demanded an immediate advance payment…”
“What advance payment, Vova? There are dozens of one-bedroom apartments listed for sale in our area! Your mother worked you up, and you immediately ran off to do what she wanted without even thinking of asking me.”
“How dare you speak to his mother like that?” Nadezhda Sergeyevna straightened in her chair. “Volodya is a grown man. He has every right to decide how the family’s money should be spent!”
“The family’s money?” I gave a bitter laugh. “Then let’s calculate honestly. During the past year and a half, out of those four hundred thousand, I contributed three hundred and twenty thousand because I earn more and took extra shifts. Volodya saved eighty thousand. And he takes one hundred and fifty thousand without asking me because of something you want?”
Volodya’s face turned crimson.
Money had always been a sensitive subject for him, but I had never once reproached him for earning less.
However, I wasn’t the one who had crossed the line first.
I took my phone out of my bag, opened the banking app, and within a few taps transferred the remaining two hundred and fifty-eight thousand rubles to my personal savings account, which my husband couldn’t access.
“What are you doing?” Volodya stared at me after a notification appeared on his phone. “That’s our money!”
“It was our money until you decided that you had the right to control it by yourself,” I snapped. “You’ve already taken your share and given it to your mother. Everything that remains is money I honestly earned.”
“But what about the rest of the amount?” my mother-in-law suddenly asked, panic creeping into her voice. “I need four hundred thousand for the down payment! One hundred and fifty thousand is only the deposit! If we don’t pay the rest, the sellers will cancel the deal and we’ll lose the deposit!”
“That is entirely your and Volodya’s problem,” I said, rising from my chair. “The two of you started this adventure, so the two of you can figure it out. Take out a loan, sell the house in Tver, borrow from friends. You’re not getting another ruble from me.”
“How dare you!” Nadezhda Sergeyevna shrieked. “Volodya, do you see what kind of woman you married? Money is more important to her than family!”
“Volodya,” I said, turning toward my husband and ignoring her attacks. “You have exactly one week. During that time, you need to decide what matters more to you: our family, or fulfilling your mother’s demands at my expense. If you choose us, we’re going to a marriage counselor and learning how to establish boundaries. If you don’t, we file for divorce and divide the apartment.”
“What counselor?” my mother-in-law scoffed. “You’ve completely lost your mind!”
“Nadezhda Sergeyevna, deal with your debts first,” I replied calmly.
I walked into the hallway, put on my jacket, took my car keys and handbag.
“I’m staying at Katya’s tonight,” I told Volodya from the doorway. “Think about it. The clock is ticking.”
I went downstairs, walked into the courtyard, and got into my car.
There were no hysterics inside me.
No tears.
Only a cold, ringing clarity.
It was time to stop playing the obedient daughter-in-law and the convenient wife.
Half an hour later, a message from my husband appeared on my phone.
“Mom left for the train station. I’m alone. Please come home.”
I didn’t reply.
He needed to sit in that empty apartment and understand the full scale of what had happened. If I returned immediately, he would think that the situation had blown over, and in a couple of months the same thing would happen again.
Three days passed.
We didn’t speak.
I stayed with my friend and went to work as usual.
On Thursday evening, Volodya finally called me himself. His voice sounded tired, but his tone had changed. The familiar childish note had disappeared.
“Natasha… I talked to Mom. I told her there wouldn’t be any more money and that she had to find another solution. She caused a huge scene, called me a traitor, and went back to Tver. She isn’t speaking to me now.”
He paused, then added:
“I made an appointment with the specialist you mentioned. It’s on Saturday. Will you come with me?”
I stayed silent for several seconds, looking out the window.
“I’ll come,” I answered. “But remember this, Volodya: this is your last chance. If you ever make a decision like that behind my back again, there won’t be a second conversation.”
“I understand,” he said quietly.
On Saturday, we went to the appointment together.
A long and difficult process of sorting through everything still lay ahead of us, but the most important step had already been taken.
I had finally learned to say “no” in situations where I used to exhaust myself trying to be good for everyone.