– What did you say? – Lena asked, freezing in the doorway.
Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly – just enough for András to notice.
The man stood in the middle of the kitchen, his shirt half unbuttoned, the kind he usually shrugged off the moment he stepped through the door, and he looked at her as if she had said something indecent.
– What’s so hard to understand? – he spread his arms. – Mom thinks it’s the right thing. We’re family. Her pension is small, and you have a decent salary. She says, why save for some nonsense when a mother needs help?
Lena slowly took off her coat. The hallway was cool – the radiators had barely given off heat all winter. She hung the coat on the hook and felt her fingers grow stiff from the cold.
For a moment she closed her eyes, as if that would make it easier to digest what she had heard.
– András – she tried to keep her voice steady – three years ago we agreed. My money is mine. Yours is yours. Shared expenses are only groceries, utilities, and the mortgage. That was clear. That was our rule.
The man sighed – a heavy, tired sigh, as if explaining something obvious to a child.
– Lena, you understand too. Mom is alone. It’s hard for her. There are two of us, we both work. She says it’s natural for children to help their parents.
– Children, yes – Lena turned to him slowly. – But not daughters-in-law. And not to this extent. For a year and a half I’ve been giving her ten thousand every month. Ten thousand, András.
That’s almost a third of my salary. On top of that I pay half the mortgage, I shop, I cook, I wash, I clean. When am I supposed to save for my own things? For shoes? For the dentist? Or just so I don’t have to count every penny?
András stepped closer and tried to take her hand. Lena didn’t pull away, but she didn’t squeeze back either.
– Mom says you spend too much on yourself – he said quietly. – That you don’t need three-thousand creams and forty-thousand coats. That it’s just showing off.
Something tightened in Lena’s chest – not pain, more like an invisible band pulling tighter and tighter.
– And according to Mom I should look like the women in her neighborhood? – she asked calmly. – In a fifteen-year-old puffer jacket, with henna-dyed hair? This is my face, András.
My teeth. My hair. My money. I work from eight in the morning until seven in the evening, sometimes until nine. I don’t sit at home waiting for an envelope.
The man looked away.
– You know what she’s been like since Dad died. She feels like everyone is trying to cheat her. If she doesn’t get something now, she’ll get nothing later.
– I understand it’s hard for her – Lena said, unpacking the grocery bags to keep her hands busy. – But that doesn’t mean I have to support her. This isn’t help. It’s… maintenance.
The word hung heavily in the air.
András was silent for a long time. Then he spoke quietly:
– She called today. She said if you send only ten again, she’ll come over and talk to you.
Lena froze with the package of cottage cheese in her hand.
– She’ll come here?
– Yes. She thinks you’re avoiding her. That I’m protecting you from her.
– Are you?
András shrugged, guiltily, but without much conviction.
– I’m trying to make everyone feel okay. So Mom doesn’t get offended. So you’re not angry.
Lena closed the refrigerator.
– You know what’s the scariest part? – she asked. – That you really don’t see anything wrong with this.
The man opened his mouth, then closed it. There was nothing he could say.
At dinner they barely spoke. Lena ate quickly, eyes lowered. András poked at the potatoes on his plate. After dinner he went to the living room to watch a match.
Lena washed the dishes, wiped the table, folded the kitchen towel – as if performing a ritual.
Then she took out her phone, opened the banking app, and stared at the numbers for a long time.
Seven thousand four hundred remained until the next paycheck.
She transferred two thousand to her phone. Another thousand to a different card – the one András never used. That was her “cushion.” For the day when it would become unbearable.
She didn’t know when that day would come. But she felt it approaching.
At night she lay on her side, listening to András’s steady breathing. She stared at the ceiling and thought about how strangely everything had turned out. Three years ago he had said: “You’re the strongest.
The smartest. I’m proud of you.” Back then it warmed her heart. Now it felt like a memory from someone else’s life.
She cried quietly – not from hurt, but from exhaustion. From the realization that it couldn’t go on like this.
In the morning she got up earlier. She made coffee, prepared a sandwich, sat down at the laptop.
She wasn’t looking for a new job. Not a new apartment.
She was looking for a lawyer.
Someone who understood family law, property division, and how to protect personal income from those who considered it “shared.”
Because she knew one thing for certain: if she didn’t draw the line now, later she wouldn’t have the strength.
Three weeks passed.
András spoke to his mother twice. The first conversation ended in shouting. The second time he took a day off, brought a cake, and sat with her for four hours.
When he came home, his face was gray, his eyes red.
– She agreed – he finally said. – She won’t ask for money anymore. She said she’s ashamed. She didn’t think it would go this far.
– And do you believe her? – Lena asked quietly.
– I believe she’s afraid. Afraid of being left alone. And that she thought if she held on tightly, she wouldn’t lose her son.
Lena nodded slowly.
– I told her – András continued – that if she demands money from you again, I’ll cut contact for a while. She replied that she would die then. And I said: if she continues like this, we’ll all die, just little by little.
Silence fell.
– I’m opening the new account – Lena said the next day. – My salary will go there.
– Me too – András replied. – Let it be clear.
A month later Galina Petrovna – that was the mother-in-law’s name – called Lena herself.
– Forgive me – she said quietly. – I was scared, and I behaved badly.
Lena accepted the apology.
– I’ll help when I can – she said. – But only when asked. Not demanded.
– I understand – the older woman replied.
Time slowly smoothed out the tension. Lena bought herself a pair of white sneakers she had wanted for a long time. For her birthday András gave her a dental voucher – without mockery, with love.
Galina Petrovna visited every two weeks. She brought pie, talked about the neighbors, and never again asked about money. Sometimes Lena slipped a few thousand into her bag – just like that, without words.
The mother-in-law would then hug her a little tighter.
One evening András spoke up:
– Mom, let’s renovate your bathroom. We’ll all chip in.
– The three of us – Lena smiled.
Galina Petrovna looked at them, and there was no reproach in her eyes anymore. Only tired, genuine warmth.
– All right – she said. – But I’ll choose the paint color.
They laughed.
Lena looked out the window. The first snow was falling. Slowly, softly, peacefully.
And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel fear.
She felt calm.
Because life hadn’t become perfect.
But it had become honest.
And at last she knew: her life was hers. Not someone else’s property.
