“You’re making that worried face again. Maybe you should see a gastroenterologist?” Maria smirked without turning around. She was chopping onions for the salad, but her hand trembled, and the knife tapped the cutting board softly.
“Did you even hear me?” Alexey stepped closer and put his hands on the table, looking uncertain.
“What now?” Maria wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face him. “Don’t tell me you need to borrow money for your mom again.”
“Well, yes. It’s just a small amount. Fifteen thousand. She…” Alexey hesitated.
“Does she need money for something important, or is it another trip to Sochi to ‘recover from stress’?” Maria crossed her arms, tired.
“She has a loan. She can’t pay it!” Alexey’s voice rose.
“She took the loan herself. Let her take responsibility. I’m not an ATM, and you’re not her caretaker. If you keep trying to balance between two women, you’ll end up overwhelmed.”
“She’s my mom, Maria. You don’t understand.”
“And what about me? Am I just someone who always has to say yes? I’ve been working two jobs since January, saving for my own goals—not so your mom can go shopping with a new purse.”
Alexey sank into his chair, covering his face with his hands.
“You’re being harsh. She’s sixty years old.”
“Sixty or sixteen doesn’t justify taking on debts and then expecting others to cover them,” Maria said quietly.
“Well, she’s had a tough life…” he started.
“Alexey, you’re an adult now. You’re married. You live in an apartment you don’t pay for. And you expect me to support her financially? That’s not fair.”
He stood suddenly. “So this is how it is? Everything’s planned, even our time together? Even our intimacy?”
“Yes. And only if your mom isn’t calling with some ‘urgent’ request. Last time she sent you a link for a vacuum cleaner.”
“Because hers broke down!” he snapped.
Maria laughed bitterly. “Tell me honestly. Did you marry me or her?”
He said nothing.
Silence filled the room like a wall between them.
The kettle steamed quietly on the stove, the air thick and tense.
“I won’t give her money. Not fifteen thousand, not five. I’m saving for my car. I’m tired of relying on the bus after night shifts and feeling invisible.”
“That’s selfish,” Alexey said softly.
“No, it’s setting boundaries. It’s maturity. True selfishness is when a grown woman takes out loans, knowing her son’s wife will cover them.”
He looked defeated. The weight of the situation was clear.
“What if I still give her the money?” His voice was low, uncertain.
“Then maybe you should go live with her. I won’t ask you to stay.”
He didn’t reply, pressed his lips, then quietly left to sleep on the couch.
For the first time in six years, Maria didn’t set an alarm. Tomorrow could start without plans.
