“— You decided to buy Mom an apartment?” Alisa looked at her husband in disbelief. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a guilty expression.
Kolya nodded, avoiding her eyes.
“Yes. She’s just a million short, and we’ve nearly saved that much.”
“What do you mean, decided?” Alisa’s voice rose. “We’ve been saving for our own place for four years! We’ve already been looking at options, choosing neighborhoods!”
“Alisa, think about it. Mom has lived her whole life in a communal apartment. The neighbors drink, scream at night. She deserves better.”
Alisa sat across from him, her hands trembling with indignation.
“And what about us? Don’t we deserve better? We’re young, we want children, and we’re still stuck in this tiny one-room flat! I already told my friends we’d be moving soon.”
“Mom is alone. She’ll retire soon, her income is nothing. We’re young; we can save again later.”
“Save again?” Alisa jumped up. “Do you know how long that will take? We put away forty thousand every month, denying ourselves everything!”
Kolya finally met her gaze. His eyes showed determination.
“Tomorrow I’m transferring the money to Mom. The decision is made.”
Silence fell over their home. Alisa refused to speak to him, and though Kolya acted like everything was fine, she saw how tense he was.
That Friday, she broke down and called her sister Svetlana.
“Sveta, can I come over? Things are really bad here.”
Of course, Svetlana agreed. An hour later, Alisa was at her sister’s kitchen table, pouring her heart out.
“He didn’t even ask me. Just decided everything for both of us!”
“And what does Alexandra Mikhailovna say?” Svetlana asked.
“She’s thrilled, naturally. Pretends she didn’t expect such care from her son. But she won’t admit that it’s ruined everything for us.”
Svetlana poured tea and sat across from her.
“Maybe he’s right? After all, it’s his mother…”
“Are you taking his side too?”
“No, no. I just want to understand his reasoning. But I agree—he should have discussed it with you.”
At that moment, Igor, Svetlana’s husband, walked in. Hearing the end of their conversation, he joined in.
“You know, if I were Kolya, I’d do the same. Parents are sacred. They raised us; now it’s our turn to care for them.”
“But we had plans!” Alisa cried. “Dreams we worked for!”
“Plans can change. Parents don’t.”
Alisa felt despair. Even her relatives didn’t understand.
Back home, Kolya was waiting.
“Where were you?”
“At Sveta’s. Telling her what a wonderful husband I have.”
“Alisa, enough. We’re not destitute. We’ll save again.”
“When? Five years? Ten? And if we have children? Then saving will be impossible.”
“If we have children, we’ll deal with it then. Ask our parents for help.”
“Which parents? Yours, who already got an apartment with our money? Or mine, who lives on a tiny pension?”
Kolya turned to the window.
“You’re selfish, Alisa. You think only of yourself.”
“And you think only of your mother! You’ve forgotten you have a wife!”
“A wife should understand and support her husband.”
“Support what? The collapse of our plans?”
Kolya turned back, his eyes cold.
“Mom raised me alone after Dad left. Worked two jobs so I could study. Now it’s my turn.”
“And what about me? Am I a stranger? We’ve been together for five years!”
“Mom is Mom. And wives…” He stopped, but Alisa understood.
“Wives what? Finish it!”
He didn’t. Instead, he said flatly:
“I’ll transfer the money tomorrow. That’s final.”
The next morning, Kolya left without a word. Alisa sat at the computer, staring at their account—1.8 million rubles, four years of sacrifice. Now about to vanish.
Later, on the phone with her mother, Alisa pretended nothing was wrong. She couldn’t bear to admit the truth.
That evening, Kolya sat at the computer arranging the transfer.
“Are you serious about this?”
“Serious.”
“Kolya, please—at least give her half. Meet halfway.”
“No. She needs the full million. She has eight hundred thousand already.”
“And us? Don’t we need a decent place too?”
“Not urgently.”
“Kolya, this is our dream. Our future.”
“My decision is final.”
“Then so is mine.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m leaving.”
He looked up, stunned.
“Leaving where?”
“Away from you. I can’t live with someone who doesn’t respect me.”
“Come on! You’ll leave over money?”
“Not over money. Over the fact that you erased me from the decision.”
Kolya turned back to the screen.
“As you wish. I’ll transfer the money anyway.”
She packed. He didn’t try to stop her. When she left, he called after her:
“Fine! I don’t need a wife like you!”
The door slammed.
Alisa stayed with Svetlana, then rented a room of her own. Kolya went ahead, gave his mother the money, and helped her move into a new apartment.
Months later, he came crawling back. His mother had found a new partner and told him to live on his own. Suddenly abandoned, he wanted Alisa again.
But Alisa had changed. She had built a life where she made her own choices. When Kolya begged for another chance, she told him calmly:
“I don’t give traitors a second chance.”
He protested, but she stood firm.
Time passed. Alisa finalized the divorce, even managed to secure some compensation in court. She built a quiet, independent life. Her colleague Sergey became a friend, someone who listened and respected her.
One day, she ran into Kolya again. He looked worn out, defeated.
“Aren’t you angry with me anymore?” he asked.
“No. The anger is gone. Now I see it was for the best. We were simply incompatible. It just took me a while to realize it.”
She walked away without regret.
That night, she smiled as she spoke to Sergey on the phone. Life was beginning anew—this time on her own terms.
She was right. Traitors didn’t deserve a second chance.
