“Igor, your father and I bought Marina an apartment,” his mother said calmly over the phone. “You’ll start paying her mortgage. She’s alone with a child, you understand.”
Maxim froze. Across the table, Lana slowly lifted her head from the travel brochures for their long-awaited trip.
“Mom… repeat that?”
“There’s nothing to repeat. Her alimony got reduced, your father’s retired, and Marina’s payments are huge. You earn well, you rent out your own apartment — you’ll take over her mortgage. Simple.”
“That’s half my salary!”
“Not forever. She’s your sister. Or did you forget?”
Lana set the papers aside sharply.
“Mom, I have my own family,” Maxim said. “Our own bills. We just paid off our debts.”
“So you’ll abandon your sister.” His mother sighed dramatically. “We thought you had a conscience.”
He looked at his wife. She slid her hand across her throat: no.
“Mom, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
She hung up without a word.
Three days later, she appeared at their door.
Walking past Lana without greeting her, she sat in the kitchen like an interrogator.
“Either you pay for Marina, or you give her the apartment you rent out. She’ll move in, rent out her own place, and cover the mortgage.”
Lana rose from her chair.
“Do you even hear yourself? She rents her own apartment for profit and moves into ours for free? Why would we even rent it then?”
“You two are greedy,” the mother snapped. “You have everything. She has nothing.”
“She has two hands, two legs, and a working age,” Lana replied calmly. “The boy goes to daycare, she gets a job. Even as a cashier.”
“A cashier?” The mother wrinkled her face. “That’s humiliating. And leaving a two-year-old in daycare? He’ll be sick every week!”
“Millions of women do it. Work, raise kids, survive without whining.”
The mother stood sharply.
“Fine. Another way. Maxim, do you remember how much your father and I gave you when you bought your apartment?”
He stiffened.
“That was my share from the sale of your place.”
“Wrong,” she said. “It was a loan. You promised to return it. If you won’t help your sister — repay it. With interest.”
“Mom, that’s not true and you know it!”
“Prove it,” she shrugged. “No papers, no receipts. I can tell everyone what kind of debtor you are. Even at your job.”
Lana moved forward, but Maxim lifted a hand to stop her.
“Twenty thousand a month. For the child’s groceries. That’s the maximum.”
“That’s too little.”
“That’s all, Mom. Take it or leave it.”
She stormed out. Lana hugged her husband.
“That’s our vacation.”
“I know,” he sighed. “But only for six months. If she doesn’t get a job — I cut it off.”
“Deal.”
Four months passed. Marina never called. His mother wrote only two words: “Transferred?”
Maxim replied: “Yes.”
Lana didn’t complain, but he saw her pushing their travel brochures deeper into a drawer.
Then his father called — something he never did.
“Son… do you know what Marina is spending your money on?”
“Groceries for the kid. Why?”
“I saw her last week at the mall. New expensive handbag. Your mother slipped — Marina goes to beauty salons every month. Says a woman has to take care of herself.”
Maxim’s knuckles went white around the phone.
“Dad… are you sure?”
“I’m sure. What you do next is your choice.”
He showed up at his parents’ apartment unannounced. Marina sat in a new sweater, fresh manicure, styled hair, scrolling her phone.
“Oh, the benefactor,” she muttered.
Maxim pointed at her hands.
“Show me the receipts.”
“What?”
“Receipts for the groceries. The things I’m sending money for. Show them.”
She laughed.
“You serious? I don’t owe you reports.”
“You do. Because I gave up a vacation with my family so your child could eat. And you spent it on a salon.”
“Don’t start,” his mother snapped. “A woman must take care of herself. She can’t just fall apart.”
“She can,” Maxim said coldly. “When there’s no money, people cut expenses. They work. They save. They go to salons when they earn it.”
Marina jumped up.
“Easy for you! Your wife is rich, she inherited her apartment!”
“Lana works from eight every morning,” Maxim said quietly. “She earns every cent. You’ve lived off everyone since you were twenty.”
“Maxim!” his mother shouted. “How dare you!”
“Easily,” he said. “From today — not a single ruble. You want money? Get a job. Any job. I’m done.”
He walked out.
On the stairwell he texted Lana: “Coming home. It’s over.”
A week later his mother came again. Lana opened the door but didn’t step aside.
“I need Maxim.”
“He’s not home.”
“Tell him I’ll take this to court. I’ll prove that money for his apartment was a loan. I have witnesses.”
Lana leaned on the doorframe.
“We have all his old bank statements. Documents for the apartment. Your ten-year-old messages congratulating him on the new home — not one word about a loan. And we’ll bring proof of every payment he sent Marina.”
She paused.
“Let the court see who the real parasite is.”
His mother paled.
“How… how dare you talk to elders like that?”
“As they deserve,” Lana said. “You sold your apartment to help a daughter who refuses to work. Your choice. But Maxim doesn’t have to pay for it. If Marina wants money — she can get a job.”
“She has a child!”
“So do we. And we support ours without blackmail.”
The mother turned and left.
That evening Lana told Maxim everything. He only squeezed her hand.
“Thank you.”
His mother called twice more. He didn’t answer.
Then his father wrote:
“Marina got a job at a cosmetics store. Your mother’s angry but quiet. You did the right thing.”
A month later, Marina texted him:
“Sorry. I didn’t think it would turn into this. Everyone told me you owed us, and I believed it. I’m working. Hard, but managing. Thank you for not letting me sit on your neck forever.”
Maxim didn’t answer right away.
He put on his jacket and stepped outside. March air was still cold, but sunlight finally broke through the clouds.
Maybe he would forgive one day.
But not now.
Right now, he just needed to live his own life — with his wife, his daughter, and the home they built themselves.
That evening Lana pulled the forgotten vacation brochures from the drawer.
“So… shall we go to the sea?”
Maxim looked at her — really looked — and smiled for the first time in months.
“Yes. Let’s go.”
His mother never apologized.
Marina worked, paid her mortgage, and stopped complaining.
His father called sometimes, and Maxim answered — briefly.
He finally understood something:
Family isn’t the people who demand sacrifices.
Family is the people who stand by you without asking for payment.
One morning, as Lana watched the sunrise, Maxim hugged her from behind.
“What are you thinking about?” he whispered.
“That we made it.”
“We did,” he said.
Their daughter ran into the kitchen, messy-haired and laughing. Maxim lifted her into his arms.
Lana watched them and knew they made the right choice.
Sometimes the most important word you can say is:
“No.”
Not out of cruelty —
but to protect your life from being consumed by someone else’s expectations.
The End.
