Polina was scrolling on her phone, looking at her mother-in-law’s Instagram, and her frown deepened with every post. First, a new Louis Vuitton bag. Then a restaurant photo with the caption: “Enjoying life.”
The following week, a selfie in a brand-new mink coat. Polina closed the app and thought. Anna Mikhailovna’s pension was twenty thousand rubles. Where did she get the money for such a life?
Timofei was sitting next to her on the couch, watching football. Polina handed him the phone with his mother’s photos.
— Tim, where does your mother get the money for all this? — she asked. — Her pension barely covers anything.
— Well… maybe she had some savings — Timofei replied without taking his eyes off the screen. — Or maybe she does some side work.
— Works — Polina repeated skeptically. — At sixty-five.
— Polya, I don’t know — Timofei shrugged.
Polina didn’t push it further, but a bad feeling lingered. Something wasn’t right. Savings aren’t endless, and Anna Mikhailovna’s lifestyle didn’t match her pension at all.
The answer came a month later. Anna Mikhailovna showed up at their place on a Sunday morning. She was crying, her mascara smeared, clutching a tissue. Timofei opened the door and was startled.
— Mom, what happened?
— Timosha, my son — Anna Mikhailovna sobbed. — I’m in serious trouble. I don’t know what to do.
They went into the kitchen. Polina made tea and listened to her mother-in-law’s complaints.
— I took out a loan from the bank — Anna Mikhailovna whimpered. — Not a big one. But now they’re demanding payments I can’t afford on my pension. They’re threatening court, saying they’ll send collectors.
— Mom, why did you take out a loan? — Timofei sat down beside her and hugged her.
— I had to — his mother lowered her eyes. — One thing after another… the refrigerator broke, and the bathroom urgently needed renovation.
Polina pictured the mink coat and the Louis Vuitton bag. The refrigerator. Of course.
— How much do you need? — Timofei asked, already taking out his phone.
— I don’t want to be a burden to you, my son — Anna Mikhailovna kept crying. — But I need forty thousand rubles by the end of the month.
— No problem, Mom — Timofei said, transferring the money right in front of Polina. — Don’t worry.
After her mother-in-law left, Polina tried to talk to her husband.
— Tim, are you sure she was telling the truth about the refrigerator?
— Polya, what are you imagining? — Timofei poured himself some coffee. — My mother wouldn’t lie.
— It’s just that her Instagram is full of expensive things — Polina said cautiously. — Shouldn’t we check what she’s spending the money on?
— She’s my mother — Timofei raised his voice. — I’m not going to interrogate her. If she needs help, I’ll help her.
Polina fell silent. She knew arguing with Timofei about his mother was pointless. Her husband adored her, saw her as a saint.
Two months later, Anna Mikhailovna came again. This time she needed eighty thousand. A month later, another sixty thousand. Meanwhile, Polina kept watching Instagram: gold earrings, designer shoes, a trip to Turkey.
— Tim, your mom bought something expensive again — Polina showed him the photo. — Where does she get the money?
— Maybe it was a gift — Timofei waved it off. — Or she sold some old things.
— The caption says “new collection,” with a date — Polina didn’t let it go.
— Stop spying on my mother — Timofei snapped. — This is already unhealthy.
After that, Polina started her own investigation. She asked an acquaintance who worked at a bank to look into Anna Mikhailovna’s credit history. What she saw shocked her. Seven loans, at different banks.
— Tim, we need to talk seriously — Polina said on Friday evening.
— About what? — Timofei was sitting on the couch with a beer.
— About your mother. I checked her credit history.
— What did you do?! — Timofei jumped up. — How dare you?
— Listen to me — Polina tried to take his hand. — She has seven loans. She can’t pay them. That’s why she keeps asking you for money.
— So what? — Timofei looked at her angrily. — She’s my mother. It’s my duty to help.
— But she spends it on nonsense! — Polina shouted. — Fur coats, bags, trips!
— Don’t you dare talk about her like that! — Timofei slammed the bedroom door.
The budget was falling apart. Every month, thirty thousand went to “help Mom,” plus Timofei’s own loans. Polina’s salary kept the family afloat.
When they finally saved up money for a car, Anna Mikhailovna appeared and took two hundred thousand. Then another three hundred thousand. Polina cried, but Timofei only said:
— Mom is more important.
When Timofei secretly took out another loan, Polina finally said what she had been holding inside.
— One more “help for Mom,” and you’ll be living with her on the balcony.
Timofei didn’t believe her. He was wrong.
Polina packed up his things and sent him away. She closed the door and, for the first time, felt relief. It hurt, but it was liberating.
Later she learned that Timofei was living with his mother, working two jobs, and paying off her debts. Anna Mikhailovna continued to live well.
A year later, Polina was already living a new life. She saved money, traveled, laughed. She met Andrei, a calm, kind man.
— What happened to your ex-husband? — he asked once.
— He chose his mother — Polina replied. — He couldn’t say no.
Outside the window, snow was falling. Polina smiled.
— The divorce was the best decision of my life — she said quietly. — I only regret not doing it sooner.
A new life lay ahead of her. Without debts. Without fear. A life where she could finally be herself.
