Polina was scrolling through her mother-in-law’s Instagram and frowning more and more. First there was a new Louis Vuitton bag, then a photo from a restaurant with the caption “Enjoying life,” and the following week, a selfie in a new mink coat. Polina closed the app and started thinking. Anna Mikhailovna received a pension of twenty thousand rubles. Where was the money for such a lifestyle coming from?
Timofey was sitting beside her on the couch, watching football. Polina showed her husband the photos of his mother on her phone.
“Tim, where does your mother get the money for all this?” Polina asked. “Her pension is tiny.”
“Well, maybe she has some savings,” Timofey said without taking his eyes off the screen. “Or maybe she’s doing some side work somewhere.”
“Side work,” Polina repeated skeptically. “At sixty-five.”
“Polya, I don’t know,” Timofey shrugged.
Polina did not continue the conversation, but the uneasy feeling remained. Something was wrong here. Savings could not last forever, and Anna Mikhailovna’s lifestyle clearly did not match her pension.
The answer came a month later. Anna Mikhailovna showed up at their place on Sunday morning. Her face was tear-streaked, her mascara had run, and she was clutching a handkerchief. Timofey opened the door and got frightened.
“Mom, what happened?”
“Timosha, my son,” Anna Mikhailovna pressed the handkerchief to her eyes. “I’m in such trouble. I don’t know what to do.”
They went into the kitchen. Polina made tea while listening to her mother-in-law’s lamentations.
“I took out a bank loan,” Anna Mikhailovna sobbed. “A very small one. But now they’re demanding payments I can’t cover with my pension. They’re threatening court and saying they’ll send debt collectors.”
“Mom, why did you take out a loan?” Timofey sat beside his mother and put an arm around her shoulders.
“I had to,” his mother looked away. “One thing after another. The refrigerator broke, and the bathroom urgently needed repairs.”
Polina remembered the mink coat and the Louis Vuitton bag. The refrigerator. Of course.
“How much do you need?” Timofey took out his phone.
“Timosha, I don’t want to burden you,” Anna Mikhailovna started crying again. “But I need forty thousand by the end of the month.”
“No problem, Mom,” Timofey transferred the money right in front of Polina. “Don’t worry.”
When his mother left, Polina tried to talk to her husband.
“Tim, are you sure your mother is telling the truth about the refrigerator?”
“Polya, why are you making things up?” Timofey poured himself coffee. “Mom wouldn’t lie.”
“It’s just that she has so many expensive things on Instagram,” Polina began carefully. “Maybe you should figure out where she’s spending money?”
“Polina, she is my mother,” Timofey raised his voice. “I’m not going to interrogate her. If she needs help, I’ll help.”
Polina fell silent. Arguing with Timofey about his mother was pointless. Her husband worshiped Anna Mikhailovna and considered her the most caring and kind woman in the world.
Two months passed. Anna Mikhailovna came again with more problems. This time she needed eighty thousand. Then, a month later, another sixty. Polina kept watching her mother-in-law’s Instagram and saw new purchases appear: gold earrings, designer shoes, a trip to Turkey.
“Tim, your mother bought something expensive again,” Polina showed her husband another photo. “Where is the money coming from?”
“Maybe someone gave it to her,” Timofey brushed it off. “Or they’re old things. You don’t know for sure.”
“I know for sure that under the photo it says ‘new collection’ and gives the purchase date,” Polina persisted.
“Polina, stop spying on my mother,” Timofey snapped. “It looks unhealthy.”
After that conversation, Polina decided to conduct her own investigation. She asked an acquaintance who worked at a bank to check Anna Mikhailovna’s credit history. What she learned shocked her. Seven loans in different banks.
“Tim, we need to have a serious talk,” Polina waited until Friday evening, when her husband was in a good mood.
“About what?” Timofey was sitting on the couch with a bottle of beer.
“About your mother. I checked her credit history.”
“You did what?!” Timofey jumped up from the couch. “What right did you have?”
“Timofey, listen,” Polina tried to take her husband’s hand, but he pulled it away. “Your mother has seven loans. She can’t pay them. That’s why she keeps asking you for money.”
“So what?” Timofey looked at his wife with fury. “She’s my mother. I’m obligated to help her.”
“But she spends the money on nonsense!” Polina raised her voice. “Coats, bags, trips! This isn’t a refrigerator or repairs!”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that,” Timofey turned around and went into the bedroom, slamming the door.
The conversation failed. Polina slept on the couch that night, thinking about what to do next. The family budget really was cracking. Every month, around thirty thousand went to “helping Mom.” Timofey’s own loans took another twenty. Out of her husband’s salary of seventy thousand, only twenty remained for living expenses. Polina earned fifty thousand, but she did not want to carry the whole family alone.
Six months passed. Anna Mikhailovna came regularly — once a month, sometimes more often. Every time, Timofey gave her money. Polina stopped objecting. It was useless.
But then her husband got a raise, and they had a goal. Timofey had long wanted to buy a car. He worked far away, and commuting by metro was inconvenient. They decided to save. In two years, they saved five hundred thousand. Polina had already chosen a suitable model and arranged a meeting with the seller.
On Saturday, the day before the meeting at the car dealership, Anna Mikhailovna arrived. Polina opened the door, saw her mother-in-law’s familiar tearful face, and tensed inside.
“Is Timosha home?” Anna Mikhailovna asked in a trembling voice.
“He is,” Polina let her mother-in-law into the apartment.
Timofey came out of the room and hugged his mother.
“Mom, what happened?”
“My son, I’m in trouble,” Anna Mikhailovna took some papers out of her bag. “The bank is demanding two hundred thousand immediately. Otherwise there’ll be court and seizure of property.”
Polina felt cold inside. Two hundred thousand. Almost half of their car savings.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Timofey hugged his mother tighter. “Everything will be all right. We’ll help.”
“Tim, wait,” Polina intervened. “Let’s discuss this separately.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Timofey looked at his wife coldly. “She’s my mother. She needs help.”
“What about the car?” Polina could not hold back. “We saved for two years!”
“The car can wait,” Timofey snapped. “Mom is more important.”
That same day, Timofey transferred two hundred thousand to Anna Mikhailovna. Polina cried in the bathroom, covering her mouth with her hand so no one would hear. Two years of saving. Two years of giving everything up — vacations, a new phone, restaurants. All for the car. And in five minutes, half the savings disappeared.
“Polya, don’t be so upset,” Timofey came into the bathroom and tried to hug his wife. “We’ll save it back quickly.”
“Quickly,” Polina repeated through tears. “Another year of saving, until your mother comes for the rest.”
“Don’t say that,” Timofey frowned. “Mom is in a difficult situation. I couldn’t abandon her.”
Polina wiped her tears and looked her husband in the eyes.
“And you can abandon me? My dreams, my plans — don’t they matter?”
“Polya, you’re young and healthy,” Timofey spread his hands. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Mom is old. She needs support.”
Polina left the bathroom and lay down on the bed. Timofey remained standing in the hallway. The conversation was over.
Two months passed. Polina stopped dreaming about the car. Why bother? Anna Mikhailovna would take the rest of the money anyway. And that was exactly what happened. Her mother-in-law came on Sunday, crying, asking for three hundred thousand. The bank was threatening court. Debt collectors were calling. Life was impossible.
Timofey gave away the remaining savings without hesitation. Polina stayed silent. She simply sat in the kitchen with an empty stare and drank cold tea. Five hundred thousand vanished. There would be no car.
“Polina, I understand you’re hurt,” Timofey sat across from his wife. “But she’s my mother. I can’t abandon her.”
“I see,” Polina answered shortly.
“Why are you sulking?” Timofey tried to take his wife’s hand, but Polina pulled away. “We’ll save again. I promise.”
Polina stood up and went to the room. She closed the door, lay down on the bed, stared at the ceiling, and thought about how long this could continue. A year? Two? Her whole life? Anna Mikhailovna clearly had no intention of changing her lifestyle. Why would she, if she had Timofey, who would always help?
A month passed. Polina opened her mother-in-law’s Instagram. A new photo — Anna Mikhailovna in an expensive restaurant, a bottle of champagne on the table. The caption read: “Celebrating the solution to my problems with friends.” Polina felt everything inside her boil. So five hundred thousand had gone to closing her loans, and now her mother-in-law was celebrating in a restaurant. With what money? A new loan?
The answer came a week later. Anna Mikhailovna was on their doorstep again. This time she needed three hundred and fifty thousand. Urgently. The bank was not joking.
Timofey looked helplessly at his mother, then at his wife.
“Mom, but we don’t have that kind of money,” he said carefully.
“Timosha, I don’t know what to do,” Anna Mikhailovna burst into tears. “They’ll put me in prison for debts. You don’t want your mother to end up in prison, do you?”
“Mom, people don’t go to prison for debts,” Timofey tried to calm her.
“They do!” his mother-in-law screamed. “A lawyer told me! If I don’t pay, there’ll be a criminal case!”
Polina listened to this nonsense and shook her head. A lawyer told her. Of course.
“Mom, I’ll think of something,” Timofey hugged his mother. “Don’t worry.”
When Anna Mikhailovna left, Polina asked:
“And what exactly will you think of?”
“I’ll take out a loan,” Timofey answered simply.
“A loan,” Polina repeated. “To pay off her loans. Logical.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Timofey raised his voice. “She’s my mother! I’m obligated to help!”
“You’re obligated to help me!” Polina shouted. “I’m your wife! We are family! Your mother is an adult woman who should answer for her own actions!”
“Don’t you dare talk like that,” Timofey turned crimson. “She’s my mother. She raised me, gave me an education. I owe her everything.”
“And now you’ll pay for it your whole life?” Polina stood and came right up to her husband. “Tim, open your eyes. Your mother is manipulating you. She takes out loans on purpose because she knows you’ll pay.”
“You hate my mother,” Timofey turned away. “You always have.”
“I don’t hate her,” Polina sank tiredly into a chair. “I don’t care about her. But I don’t want to live in debt because of her irresponsibility.”
“Then don’t,” Timofey threw back and left the kitchen.
The next day, Timofey took out a loan for three hundred and fifty thousand. Polina found out by accident. She found the agreement in her husband’s jacket when she was about to do laundry. She read it and slowly sank to the floor right there in the hallway. Three hundred and fifty thousand. For three years.
Polina waited for Timofey to come home from work. She placed the agreement on the table.
“What is this?” she asked coldly.
Timofey looked at the paper and turned pale.
“Polina, I wanted to tell you…”
“When?” Polina interrupted. “When were you planning to tell me? When the debt collectors come to us?”
“They won’t come,” Timofey tried to take his wife’s hands, but Polina moved away. “I’ll pay. You won’t even notice.”
“I won’t notice thirteen thousand a month?” Polina laughed, but the laugh came out hysterical. “Tim, we already have enough loans of our own. We’re barely making ends meet. And now there’s another one.”
“I couldn’t abandon my mother,” Timofey repeated the familiar phrase.
“Fine,” Polina took the agreement and folded it. “Then listen carefully. I’m tired. Tired of cleaning up your mother’s debts. Tired of living on crumbs because all the money goes to her coats and vacation packages.”
“Polina, don’t exaggerate…”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Polina’s voice was cold and firm. “You made your choice. Again. In favor of your mother. Fine. But here is my choice.”
Polina came right up to her husband and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Listen, credit hero,” his wife said clearly. “One more ‘help Mom’ situation, and you’ll be living on her balcony.”
Timofey was stunned. He blinked, opened his mouth, closed it again. He did not believe her.
“Are you joking?” he finally managed to say.
“No,” Polina turned and went to the kitchen. “This is your final warning. Choose — me, or your mother and her debts.”
“But Polina, she’s my mother!” Timofey followed his wife. “I can’t just abandon her!”
“You can,” Polina poured herself water and drank it. “You just don’t want to. Because it’s convenient for you to be a good son. And what I feel doesn’t matter to you.”
“That’s not true,” Timofey tried to hug his wife, but Polina moved away.
“It is exactly true. Three years, Tim. For three years I’ve watched you throw money at your mother’s whims. She isn’t some poor little old lady. She’s a spoiled woman used to living beyond her means. And you support her in it.”
“But…”
“No,” Polina raised her hand. “That’s it. I’ve said what I had to say. One more loan for Mom — and you move out. I’m serious.”
Timofey went into the room and slammed the door. Polina remained in the kitchen. Her hands were shaking. For the first time in three years, she had said what she really thought. For the first time, she had given an ultimatum. It was frightening. What if Timofey really chose his mother? What if Polina ended up alone?
But it was impossible to keep living like this. It was a slow descent into a debt pit they would never climb out of. Polina understood that if she did not stop it now, in a year they would owe every bank in the city. And Anna Mikhailovna would keep buying bags and going to resorts.
Two months passed. Timofey walked around gloomy and barely spoke to his wife. Anna Mikhailovna did not appear. Polina hoped Timofey had spoken to his mother and explained the situation. Or maybe her mother-in-law herself had understood that she had gone too far.
Polina began breathing more freely. Money stayed in the family. The payments on Timofey’s loans were heavy, but at least no new ones appeared. Maybe everything would get better. Maybe Timofey had finally seen what was happening.
But on Saturday morning, while sorting the mail, Polina found a letter from a bank. It was addressed to Timofey. Polina had not intended to open it, but the bank’s name was unfamiliar. That made her anxious. She opened the envelope and pulled out the document.
A loan repayment schedule. Two hundred thousand rubles. Taken out three weeks earlier. Monthly payment: ten thousand. Polina read the numbers, unable to believe her eyes. Again. He had taken out another loan.
Her hands were trembling so badly that she could barely hold the paper. Polina stared at the agreement. Three weeks ago. That meant Anna Mikhailovna had come over, and Timofey had hidden it. He had taken out a loan in secret. He thought Polina would not find out.
Polina went into the bedroom. Timofey was still asleep. She shook him by the shoulder.
“Wake up.”
“Mmm, what time is it?” Timofey opened his eyes and stretched.
“What difference does it make?” Polina threw the agreement onto the bed. “Explain this.”
Timofey took the paper and scanned it. His face turned white.
“Polina, I can explain everything…”
“Explain,” Polina crossed her arms over her chest.
“Mom came three weeks ago,” Timofey sat up in bed, avoiding his wife’s eyes. “She urgently needed money. The bank was threatening…”
“Stop,” Polina interrupted. “She came three weeks ago? When I was at work?”
“Well, yes,” Timofey nodded. “I didn’t want to upset you. You were already nervous because of the last loan. I decided to take this one myself and not tell you.”
“Not tell me,” Polina repeated slowly. “You decided to deceive me.”
“Not deceive you,” Timofey got out of bed. “Just not upset you. I’m paying it myself, from my salary.”
“From our family salary,” Polina corrected him. “Tim, do you understand what you’ve done?”
“I helped my mother,” Timofey answered stubbornly.
“You broke your promise,” Polina felt an icy rage rising inside her. “I said one more loan and you move out. You took out a loan. You hid the truth from me.”
“Polina, I didn’t want to hurt you,” Timofey tried to take his wife’s hands, but Polina stepped back.
“What you wanted doesn’t matter,” Polina turned and left the bedroom. “What matters is what you did.”
Polina went into the living room and took a large travel bag from the closet. She began packing Timofey’s things. Shirts, jeans, socks, underwear. She worked silently, methodically.
“Polina, what are you doing?” Timofey appeared in the doorway and stared at his wife in horror.
“Packing your things,” Polina answered without looking up.
“Wait, let’s talk,” Timofey came closer and tried to stop her. “I’ll change. I won’t do it again.”
“You’ve already said that,” Polina zipped the bag and handed it to him. “Go to your mother. Live with her. Help her as much as you want.”
“Polina, don’t do this,” Timofey’s voice trembled. “I love you.”
“No,” Polina shook her head. “You love your mother. And to you, I’m just someone who’s supposed to endure everything.”
“That’s not true,” Timofey put the bag down on the floor and tried to hug his wife. “Polina, give me a chance. One last chance.”
“I gave you a chance two months ago,” Polina moved away. “You used it to deceive me. That’s it. Leave.”
“But this is my apartment too,” Timofey suddenly straightened up. “You can’t throw me out.”
“Your apartment?” Polina smirked. “Tim, the apartment is registered in my name. I bought it before we got married. You’re only registered here. So yes, I can. And I’m throwing you out.”
“Polina, come to your senses,” Timofey grabbed his wife by the shoulders. “You can’t do this. Destroying a family over some loan?”
“Over your inability to say no to your mother,” Polina corrected him. “Over your lies. Over the fact that for you, your mother is more important than your wife. Get out, Timofey. Right now.”
Timofey looked at his wife for a long time. Then he slowly picked up the bag and walked toward the exit.
Timofey left. Polina closed the door and turned the key in the lock. She leaned her back against the door and slowly slid down to the floor. She sat there for a long time, staring into emptiness. She had done it. She had thrown her husband out. Destroyed her family. Or had she not destroyed it, but saved herself?
The phone rang an hour later. Timofey. Polina declined the call. Then another one. And another. Polina turned off the phone and went to the shower. She stood under the hot water and cried. Not out of self-pity. Out of relief. It was finally over. She no longer had to endure. She no longer had to watch money flow away to Anna Mikhailovna.
The following days passed in a fog. Polina went to work and returned to an empty apartment. Timofey called, wrote, and asked to meet. Polina ignored him. Anna Mikhailovna appeared too — she came to the door and rang the intercom. Polina did not open.
“Polina, open the door, we need to talk!” her mother-in-law shouted through the door. “You’re destroying the family! Timofey will be lost without you!”
Polina sat in the kitchen wearing headphones, listening to music. Let her shout. Sooner or later, she would get tired.
A week later, a message came from Timofey: “I’ll file for divorce. This is what you wanted.” Polina replied briefly: “Fine.” No emotion. Just a statement of fact.
The divorce was finalized three months later. Timofey tried to push part of the loans onto Polina. Anna Mikhailovna helped with that. It didn’t work.
Polina continued living her life. Work, home, occasional meetings with friends. One day she went into a supermarket and saw a familiar figure at the checkout. Timofey. Older-looking, tired. He was buying cheap things — pasta, bread, a carton of milk. Polina walked past without stopping.
Later, she accidentally learned from a mutual acquaintance that Timofey was living with his mother. He did not have enough money to rent an apartment — everything went to loans. Anna Mikhailovna, by the way, continued living extravagantly. Only now Timofey lived with her, worked on two fronts, and paid her debts directly.
Polina listened and shook her head. He had gotten what he wanted. He lived with his mother and helped her, just as he had always dreamed. Only for some reason, he looked unhappy.
A year passed. Polina got used to living alone. She even liked it. Money stayed in the family — meaning with her. She could afford vacations, new clothes, and trips to cafés. She was saving for a car. This time, no one would take her savings away.
She met someone new — Andrei, a doctor. Kind, attentive, with no toxic relatives. Their relationship developed slowly, without rushing. Polina was learning to trust again.
One day Andrei asked:
“What happened with your ex-husband?”
Polina thought for a moment.
“He chose his mother over me,” she answered simply. “He couldn’t say no to her. Even when it destroyed our family.”
“I see,” Andrei nodded. “What an idiot. He lost a woman like you.”
Polina looked out the window. Snow was falling behind the glass.
“You know, divorce was the best decision of my life,” Polina said quietly. “My only regret is that I didn’t leave sooner. That I endured it for so long.”
Andrei put his arm around Polina’s shoulders. They sat in silence, watching the falling snow. Ahead was a new life. Without loans for someone else’s whims. Without manipulation. Without the need to fight for the right to be heard. Just a life where Polina could be herself and not fear being betrayed for someone else.