“Your mother called again. She’s asking for more money. Maybe it’s time to tell her we simply can’t support her anymore?”
Anna had never said anything like this before. There was no anger in her voice—only a weary worry, as if she had carried a heavy load for too long and finally felt her strength slipping.
Sergey really did help his mother financially, but lately their own family budget was stretched thin. Every ruble mattered; every kopeck was accounted for.
“You know she’s lonely,” Sergey muttered, frowning as he set his phone aside. His eyes showed the battle raging inside him: duty to his mother versus responsibility to his wife and child.
“Is it easy for us?”
Anna’s voice cracked with the desperation she’d been hiding. “The baby is constantly sick. You know how much his treatment costs. We’re barely scraping by! Every trip to the pharmacy feels like an attack on our wallet.”
“I understand. But she’s used to relying on me… I can’t just refuse her. She’s completely alone in this world.”
They had met at a friend’s party on one of those warm summer evenings when life seems full of beginnings. Sergey was just building his career; Anna had just graduated. Their meeting was like a flash of light—unexpected, bright, blinding.
Anna was an orphan who had made her way through intelligence and grit. That’s exactly what won Sergey over. A sincere, courageous girl with a backbone. Her eyes lit up when she spoke about dreams, about helping children, about her belief in kindness.
Before the wedding, Sergey introduced her to his mother. The moment Veronica Petrovna realized she was facing a girl with no dowry, she frowned. Her gaze ran critically over Anna’s simple dress.
“What do you do, Anna?” she asked with a chilly tone.
“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” Anna answered quietly, her hands trembling under the scrutiny.
“A kindergarten teacher?” Veronica repeated with disdain. “They don’t earn much. Does that… suit you?”
“As long as I love what I do. I adore working with children. Their smiles, their discoveries—nothing compares.”
Veronica didn’t like the answer, but she held her tongue for her son’s sake. She nodded stiffly, her face still full of disapproval.
She had retired early from her harmful workplace and enjoyed her rest too much to look for another job. She liked comfort, but her pension was small, so she regularly asked Sergey for money. She wanted her son to marry into wealth, not to a girl whose only riches were kindness and soul.
After the wedding, Veronica did not stop asking for help. Sergey, raised to obey his mother, never refused. Anna knew her husband sent part of his salary to his mother, but stayed silent, hoping things would change on their own.
A year and a half later their son was born—premature and frail. From that moment, Anna worried constantly. The child needed expensive treatment, and she was on maternity leave with no income. Every day was filled with caring for the baby, sleepless nights, and quiet prayers.
“Honey, we need to tighten our belts… and maybe your mother should, too,” she had said gently once. After a long talk, Sergey agreed to reduce the monthly amount he sent his mother. He saw how Anna sacrificed everything for their child.
But this change angered Veronica. Her calls became more frequent—and full of reproach.
“Maybe you should go back to work?” she would snap at Anna. “Sitting at home won’t bring money.”
“I’m on maternity leave. And your grandson is very ill. How can I leave him? Will you babysit?”
“Oh, no. I’ve worked enough in my life. And he’s too small. You find yourself a part-time job.”
Veronica refused to hear any logic.
“Fine,” Anna would say, “but only if you watch the baby.”
“No! I raised Sergey alone. Other mothers manage—why can’t you?”
The poison in her voice shook Anna, but she refused to work just so Veronica could continue receiving Sergey’s full support.
“You know what, Sergey? If your mother needs money, she can work. She won’t babysit, but she wants me to work for her sake? Absolutely not.”
Their relationship worsened. Veronica criticized everything—even Anna’s postpartum appearance.
“Why did you stop taking care of yourself? Those extra kilos cling to you when you sit at home all day. Sergey won’t stay long with a woman who lets herself go.”
The words stung deeply.
Yet Anna kept silent.
Until her 28th birthday.
She prepared a modest celebration at home. Laughter, baking, warmth filled the air—until Veronica’s turn to give a gift.
“I thought for a long time about what to get you… something useful.”
She placed a wrapped basket on the table. Inside was a weight-loss kit—teas, creams, pills. A blow meant to humiliate her. Anna’s cheeks burned.
She said nothing then. But that night she broke down in front of Sergey.
“Look at what your mother gave me! How could she be so cruel?”
“I know,” he muttered. “Ignore her. I love you just the way you are.”
After that, Anna cut off contact with her mother-in-law.
Half a year passed. Then came Veronica’s birthday.
After much discussion, Anna agreed to go. Sergey promised things would be different.
When it was her turn to give a toast, Anna stood with a glass in one hand and a small wrapped package in the other.
“Happy birthday, Veronica Petrovna. We wish you health and happiness. And happiness is not only financial stability, but also independence. We thought a lot about what to give you—and decided on something truly useful.”
She handed over the package.
Veronica eagerly unwrapped it—first the pretty paper, then the newspaper inside, expecting jewelry or money.
But inside was nothing.
Just the newspaper.
“Where’s the gift?” she asked, confused.
“It’s right in your hands,” Anna replied calmly.
“This is just a newspaper…”
“It’s not just a newspaper. It’s the job listings. We hope you’ll use it. Because we cannot help you financially anymore. I’m pregnant with our second child, and now we will need support… not money, but love and understanding.”
Silence fell over the room.
Veronica flushed. She looked at her son, hoping for sympathy, but Sergey simply shrugged.
Eventually she whispered, “You decided to multiply poverty?!”
“No, Mama,” Sergey answered softly but firmly. “We decided to have another child. And if your pension isn’t enough, maybe you should try working. It might even make you happier.”
A week later she answered his call at last.
“I found a job,” she declared proudly. “Administrator at the beauty salon next door. Started last week.”
“Really?” Sergey was stunned.
“Yes. Your wife and you forced your poor mother to work again,” she said, but there was a hint of pride in her voice.
And strangely—she enjoyed it. New friends, new hobbies, free beauty treatments. And no more waiting for her son’s paycheck. She felt useful again.
Months passed.
One evening, the doorbell rang. Veronica stood on the threshold holding a bouquet of wildflowers and a small package.
“These are for you,” she told Anna softly. “And this is for the baby.”
Inside was a tiny knitted outfit.
“I made it myself.”
Her eyes held no hostility—only a shy hope.
Anna stepped aside to let her in.
It wasn’t a dramatic reconciliation. Just a beginning—fragile as a spring bud, but just as precious.
The start of something new, where the true wealth wasn’t money, but the soul’s ability to forgive and begin again.”Why create poverty?” the mother-in-law was indignant when she discovered her daughter-in-law was pregnant.”Why create poverty?” the mother-in-law was indignant when she discovered her daughter-in-law was pregnant.
