After Boarding the Subway, Galya Unexpectedly Saw Her Former Mother-in-Law, Who Had Borrowed Money for Real Estate and Disappeared
Galya settled into an empty seat in the subway car and reached into her bag for her phone. She wanted to check the news while the train carried her through the underground tunnels of Yekaterinburg.
The morning had turned out chilly, and the subway felt especially warm and cozy after the strong wind outside.
She turned her head and, to her surprise, saw a very familiar woman.
It was Galya’s former mother-in-law, Tamara Ivanovna. She was sitting by the window, slowly leafing through some kind of brochure and occasionally adjusting her glasses.
The very same woman who had borrowed a large sum of money from Galya several years earlier and then vanished into the bustle of the city as though she had never existed.
Galya remembered perfectly how she had been unable to reach her after the divorce. She also remembered the conversations with her former husband, who had done nothing but defend his mother and had eventually blocked Galya’s number.
She switched on her camera and discreetly took several photographs.
Then she opened a messaging app and sent the pictures to her husband along with a brief message.
His reply arrived almost instantly, and Galya smiled involuntarily. Maxim had always been a decisive man, not the kind of person who spent too much time thinking over a situation.
The dark sunglasses in her coat pocket suddenly came in very handy.
Galya had changed considerably over the years. She now wore her hair short and dyed it a different color. Her figure had also become fuller after the birth of her son.
She was certain none of her old acquaintances would recognize her.
A voice over the loudspeaker announced the Uralmash station, and Tamara Ivanovna began gathering her belongings. The woman stood up and headed toward the doors.
Galya rose as well, trying to blend in with the other passengers while keeping a safe distance behind her.
Galya remembered that Saturday six years earlier very clearly. The sun had been shining outside, and even the clouds seemed to have disappeared somewhere.
Tamara Ivanovna had arrived early in the morning carrying a large bag of green apples she had bought at the market on the way.
“Galochka, how about we make a charlotte apple cake?” Her mother-in-law immediately walked into the kitchen and began sorting through her purchases. “Just look how juicy these apples are!”
At the time, Galya worked for a large company, and her salary allowed her to live more than comfortably. She had recently sold her grandmother’s plot of land in a village near Kamensk-Uralsky, and the proceeds had significantly increased the family budget. Life was moving along steadily and predictably, and it seemed that she had resolved all her major financial concerns for many years to come.
“Listen, I have a favor to ask you,” Tamara Ivanovna said, setting aside the last apple and turning toward her daughter-in-law with a serious expression. “I need some money—seven hundred thousand rubles. I want to buy a small room in a dormitory and rent it out. Our pension is next to nothing, but at least this would provide a little extra income every month.”
Galya made her decision quickly, without hesitation or prolonged thought. Her mother-in-law had always treated her well. She regularly called Galya for cooking advice or asked her to help find something online.
Refusing someone so close to her in such a situation seemed simply impossible.
“Of course I’ll help you, Tamara Ivanovna!”
There had been no discussion of receipts or official documents. Galya had been certain that the trust between them was as unshakable as the Ural Mountains.
“Watch where you’re going, you cow!” shouted a heavyset middle-aged man when Galya accidentally brushed against his leg while climbing the steps out of the underground passage.
“I’m very sorry. I didn’t notice,” she muttered before hurrying onward, trying not to lose sight of the familiar figure ahead.
Tamara Ivanovna strolled slowly along Mashinostroiteley Street, occasionally stopping to look through the windows of small shops.
At a grocery store, she bought a loaf of white bread and a carton of milk. Then she headed into a courtyard surrounded by typical nine-story apartment buildings from the Soviet era.
A distinctive feature of those buildings was their tiny, box-like concrete balconies. During the winter, residents used them as natural refrigerators, storing perishable food outside.
Galya quickened her pace and slipped into the building entrance behind her former mother-in-law. On the second floor, Tamara Ivanovna stopped and turned around, as though she had sensed something.
Galya had to pretend she was continuing farther down the corridor. Tamara Ivanovna did not recognize her former daughter-in-law and began taking a ring of keys out of her bag.
Galya hid around the bend in the staircase and took out her phone to send the address to Maxim.
The half hour Galya spent waiting on the landing seemed especially long. Every few moments, she felt the urge to check her phone or go downstairs to stretch her legs.
At last, the long-awaited message appeared in the chat. A few minutes later, Maxim appeared at the far end of the corridor.
Tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in jeans and a dark jacket, he looked imposing.
During his years working as a foreman at a large construction site, he had learned how to communicate with all kinds of people and how to find the right approach to each of them.
“Well, show me where your debtor lives,” he said, glancing along the row of identical doors.
Galya pointed toward the correct apartment, and her husband knocked firmly on the metal door.
A minute later, footsteps could be heard, and the door opened as far as the security chain allowed. Tamara Ivanovna’s anxious face appeared in the narrow gap.
“Who are you looking for?” she asked cautiously.
Galya stepped out from behind her husband and removed her dark glasses, revealing her face.
“Do you remember me, Tamara Ivanovna?”
Tamara Ivanovna reacted instantly. She recoiled and stumbled backward into the apartment. Her face became noticeably pale.
“My God, where did you come from?” she managed to say, making no attempt to hide her shock.
“We need to talk. May we come in?” Galya tried to speak calmly and without aggression.
“Yes, of course. Come in, come in…” Tamara Ivanovna hurriedly removed the security chain and stepped aside.
Calling the place an apartment would have been a considerable exaggeration. It was more like a room in a communal dormitory, with one bathroom shared by two families.
In the common hallway, numerous pairs of shoes in different sizes crowded together on a rubber mat: children’s sneakers, women’s shoes, and men’s boots.
Galya immediately realized that a large family lived there. The air was filled with the smells of homemade food—fried potatoes, stewed cabbage, and fresh bread.
“Where is my money?” Galya decided not to delay the main question.
Her former mother-in-law lowered her head and gestured for the visitors to come farther inside.
“Come into the room. We’ll talk there.”
She opened the door to a tiny room that could barely accommodate the most essential belongings.
A folding sofa occupied most of the space. A small television stood on a low cabinet, and an improvised kitchenette had been arranged in the corner, with an electric hot plate and a couple of pots on a shelf.
“Please, sit down,” Tamara Ivanovna said, pointing toward the sofa. “Would you like some tea?”
“We don’t need anything,” Maxim said. “Let’s get straight to the point.”
Tamara Ivanovna lowered herself onto the only chair and folded her hands in her lap.
“Do you know what happened after you left my Seryozha?” she asked quietly, almost in a whisper.
“We separated because he couldn’t have children,” Galya said with a nod.
“Exactly. After that, my son completely lost his way. At first, he simply walked around gloomy and wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. Then he started drinking. Within two years, his life had turned into a complete nightmare. He lost his job, took out a pile of loans, and then the debts began accumulating.”
Galya listened silently, trying to process what she was hearing.
“I had to sell my apartment to settle his debts. Fortunately, I had already bought this little room with your money. I thought the two of us would somehow scrape by here together,” Tamara Ivanovna said, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing her eyes. “But a year ago, Seryozha disappeared. I don’t know where he went, and he hasn’t returned.”
“And what happens now?” Maxim asked.
“What happens now? I live alone on a pension of eighteen thousand rubles a month. There are utility bills, food, and medicine. How can I repay anything when I don’t even have enough to live on?”
Galya carefully looked around the miserable little room.
“So you have no money at all?” she clarified.
“Not a single ruble, I swear,” Tamara Ivanovna sobbed. “Had I possessed the means, I would have repaid you before attending to anything else. I give you my word!”
Maxim rose from the sofa and headed toward the door.
“All right, Galya, let’s leave. There’s nothing more for us to do here.”
Galya stood up as well, but she paused in the doorway and turned back toward the woman.
“Tamara Ivanovna, if you suddenly came into some money, would you repay the debt?”
“Of course, Galochka! Naturally! I’m not some kind of thief,” the woman said, nodding vigorously. “At the first opportunity, I would return every last kopeck.”
On the landing, Maxim looked at his wife in confusion.
“What was that all about?”
Galya put on her sunglasses and shrugged.
“You saw the conditions she lives in. I think fate has already punished her enough. As for the money… you and I can always earn more.”