“I gave our savings to my mother so she could pay off her debts,” my husband told me.
When Alexey spoke these words, my world collapsed instantly. All my dreams, plans, and hopes—everything shattered into fragments, like the glass I dropped in shock. The red stain on the floor looked like the blood of my broken heart. How could someone betray me so cruelly? How could he give away to a stranger what we had been saving for an entire year, bit by bit?
Our married life began modestly two years ago. We didn’t have a wedding celebration—money was catastrophically scarce. Alexey worked as a mechanic at a factory, and I cooked in a small roadside café.
Our earnings were small since we had both just completed our professional training. After registering our marriage, we rented a small apartment. I transformed the one-room flat in a quiet neighborhood with my own hands into a cozy family haven.
On the windowsills bloomed miniature pots of colorful violets, and near the sofa, a lush ficus with variegated leaves thrived in a large planter. I had sewn sunny curtains for the kitchen window and delicate cream ones for the living room. My husband greatly appreciated my talent for creating home comfort and cooking delicious meals.
Serious conflicts between us hardly ever occurred, except for arguments about his mother’s influence on Alexey.
My mother-in-law, Valentina Petrovna, had a difficult temperament. Authoritarian and capricious, she regularly visited us and constantly found fault with my behavior. Sometimes she criticized my culinary skills, sometimes the cleanliness of the house seemed insufficient, and sometimes she deemed the profession of a cook unworthy of the wife of her precious son. She never specified what kind of work would suit my “status.”
Pursing her lips in disdain, she would only say: “You need something more prestigious.” Yet I genuinely loved my work, and the pay gradually increased with each month of experience. My managers valued me, and the café’s patrons were always satisfied.
Valentina Petrovna was convinced that I had taken away her only treasure—her son. She adored Alexey and had raised him alone. Her husband had disappeared from their lives when the boy was still very small. My husband barely remembered his father, and his mother avoided any mention of him. Of course, life had not been easy for her. She worked tirelessly to clothe, feed, and educate him. As a result, Alexey became a successful man. Then she began to demand constant attention and care.
Alexey tried to visit his mother as often as possible, helping with household “men’s work”—repairing a cabinet, hanging a picture, changing a light bulb.
He loved and respected his mother, and I understood the important place she held in his heart. In many matters, he sought her advice and constantly listened to her guidance. This often upset me, and I expressed my dissatisfaction. My husband explained that he could not upset his mother—it was easier to agree with her demands.
Moreover, my mother-in-law had a summer cottage, and instead of spending warm days together with Alexey in nature, I was forced to stay in the stifling city apartment. My husband spent time working in the garden. He invited me to join, but after a few trips to Valentina Petrovna’s dacha, I categorically refused to go again. She turned into a true domestic tyrant, commanding, grumbling, and nitpicking every detail. Deciding it would be calmer at home, I stopped visiting. I also rarely invited her over.
Lately, I increasingly felt that I occupied a secondary place in Alexey’s life. His attachment to his mother had not weakened in the slightest, even after our wedding. And his mother, as if testing the limits of my patience, deliberately summoned her son every weekend with trivial errands.
“I need Alexey to come and bring a melon, tomatoes, and sweet peppers. I’m going to make lecho,” she would declare.
“Lecho with melon? Interesting recipe,” I couldn’t resist sarcastically commenting.
“Don’t be smart. Lecho is made from tomatoes and peppers, and I want to eat the melon before the season ends. Are you suggesting I carry such a heavy thing myself? They’re enormous right now.”
Naturally, Alexey was also expected to pay for these purchases. There was no talk of reimbursing him. And all this while his mother knew perfectly well that we were saving money for a car.
The car was our shared dream. We had even decided to postpone buying our own apartment on credit. A car would not only reduce commuting time to work but also allow us to spend warm days in forests, by lakes, and enjoy nature.
Without personal transportation, getting to remote places by taxi or public transport was expensive and extremely inconvenient. With our own car, we would be independent. We could go, relax, cook barbecue, and return home whenever we wanted.
Moreover, Alexey had to commute two hours to work on public transport and wake up at four in the morning, since buses ran strictly on schedule. With a personal car, he could sleep two hours longer. So the car wasn’t a luxury—it was a necessity. For twelve months, we had been setting aside money every month for this long-awaited purchase.
“You should have hurried with your own place! You’re living in a rental, paying strangers!” my mother-in-law would complain, and I repeatedly explained to her why buying a car made more sense.
“Valentina Petrovna, Alexey and I have already planned everything. First the car, then the apartment, and after that we can think about having children. By the way, a car will be necessary even with little ones.”
“With children? Why don’t you have even one first? Two years married, and you haven’t even got a pet,” she replied, displeased.
My vacation was approaching, and along with the vacation pay, I was promised a generous bonus for my conscientious work throughout the year. Of course, I wanted to go to the sea, but buying a car would bring even more joy—we could go mushroom picking in September. Walking through the golden autumn forest with a woven basket, quietly hunting for large white mushrooms, brown boletus, and clusters of honey mushrooms on old stumps. I dreamed and made plans, eagerly sharing them with my husband.
“And we’ll definitely stay overnight while the weather is still warm, right?” I asked Alexey. “We have a tent that’s been lying unused for years. It will come in handy. We’ll roast marshmallows over the fire, brew tea with pine twigs, lie down and admire the stars. During the day we’ll grill kebabs!”
“Yes, wonderful!” my husband replied, yawning. “But you’ve already planned so much, don’t rush things. Remember the saying about ‘hop’?”
“Yes, yes, you don’t jump over the obstacle until it’s right. But we’ll buy it very soon, Alexey!”
I fell asleep happy, dreaming of a forest rustling with centuries-old pines. I walked through it with a basket full of milk caps and boletus mushrooms. The milk caps grew in white clusters everywhere, and I carefully cut them one by one, placing them stem-up in the large woven basket…
“Well, Petrova, here’s your pay slip,” my boss winked, handing me the document.
I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the bonus amount.
“Oh, thank you, Konstantin Mikhailovich! I will never forget your generosity and kindness!” I even jumped on the spot from joy.
“Going to get your car now?” the manager smiled.
“Yes, home first, and then Alexey and I will choose it right away.”
I could barely wait for the end of my shift. Every free minute, I studied the car models I had been eyeing for the final choice. Tomorrow was Saturday, so we could go to the dealership without rush. I ran home, having read a message from my husband that he was stuck in traffic and running late. I quickly marinated fish and began chopping vegetables. I wanted to prepare a celebratory dinner for this joyful occasion. I bought magnificent salmon steaks, rubbed them with spices and ginger, and drizzled them with lemon juice.
For the side dish, I made stewed green peas and “homestyle potatoes.” Alexey adored them, and I didn’t hesitate to make them today. I even prepared a sauce with garlic, herbs, and sour cream. When my husband returned, I was already setting the table and pouring cherry drink into beautiful glasses.
“Hi. Why are you glowing?” my husband asked, sitting down at the table.
“Because…” I paused dramatically, “I got a bonus so big that it’s definitely enough for the car, and tomorrow we’re going to the dealership for our dream. By the way, did you wash your hands?”
“I did. Oh, you even made the fish? And the ‘homestyle potatoes’? You’re an amazing wife!” My husband stood up and kissed my forehead, and I smiled at him joyfully.
“That’s just me. Take my phone while I finish the last touches, and check the models and colors in the bookmarks. I’ve been choosing a car for us for two months. Let’s discuss everything today, and tomorrow we just go and buy it.”
“Olya, I… I asked you not to rush with plans,” Alexey said sadly.
“What do you mean? Why delay? I got so much money for vacation that we can buy it without any difficulty…”
“I gave our savings to my mother so she could pay off her debts,” my husband declared.
Startled, I knocked the glass of cherry drink off the table. It shattered loudly, scattering shards everywhere. The drink spread across the kitchen tiles in a messy red puddle. I stood there, staring at Alexey in disbelief.
“What do you mean, ‘gave’? Most of that was from my salary! We were planning to buy a car, we discussed it countless times—you wanted it yourself. How could you, Alexey?” I asked hoarsely.
“I couldn’t say no. She was doing renovations, and it ended up costing more than planned. She got into debt, and it’s hard for her to pay it off. You know my mother doesn’t earn much,” he explained.
“I don’t care how much she earns. Her debts are her problem. I worked like a demon for a year, saving every ruble, denying myself everything. All for the car, which I thought we’d buy tomorrow. And now you tell me you gave everything we’d saved to your mother, who can’t stand me and constantly humiliates me.”
“Olya, don’t get so upset, please,” my husband pleaded.
“Upset? I’m as calm as Arctic ice. Pack your things and go to your mother. I don’t want to see your face here. And don’t forget—I paid for the apartment this month too, so leave immediately!”
He didn’t argue. He gathered his things and left. I called my parents, crying on the phone for a long time as I told them what Alexey had done. My mother put my father on speaker so he could hear everything too.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry,” my father said seriously. “Your mom and I are alive and well, we both work, and we have savings. We’ve been careful with money for years. Apparently, it’s time to use it. Your mother and I will buy you the car, and you can use your bonus to go on vacation, okay?”
“Dad, but how can I take such a sum from you…” I began.
“You’ll manage. Your birthday is in winter, of course, but consider it a present. Done, decided.”
I ended the call, unable to believe my ears. My parents were golden. That meant the car would be mine. On Saturday, my father and I were at the dealership, paying for a brand-new domestically manufactured car. I already had a driver’s license, so I could drive it myself. On Monday, I submitted my divorce papers. I had no intention of forgiving Alexey’s betrayal—and I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. He had hurt me too deeply by giving my savings to his mother.
Since we had no shared property or children, the divorce went quickly and smoothly. Free as a bird, I went on a river rafting trip. The group consisted of cheerful city youths dreaming of adventure on the fast-flowing mountain river, surrounded by picturesque forests and hills. I spent two weeks resting both body and soul. My body was so exhausted that at night I would just wrap myself in a sleeping bag and fall asleep instantly. But in the morning, the fatigue vanished, and I woke refreshed, ready to conquer the world.
Back in the city, I got into the car and went mushroom picking. Just like in the dream the night before buying the car, I wandered through an old, creaking pine forest. Towering trees brushed against the dark, fragrant needles of the autumn-blue sky. My basket felt heavy, more than half full with firm white milk caps and boletus mushrooms with dark, damp caps. I wandered, forgetting everything else, all day—from early morning until sunset.
The red sun sank behind the distant mountains. I sat on a blanket next to my car, the basket of mushrooms beside me. I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to become part of this majestic ancient forest. But it had grown cold, and I hadn’t brought warm clothes, so I had to drive back.
The half-empty night road stretched ahead under the wheels. In the headlights, moths and nocturnal butterflies fluttered aside, scattering from the speeding car. I turned on the music, and to the songs of my favorite band, I reflected on how the separation from Alexey had been for the best. We were simply too different. He was far too dependent on his mother, far too unwilling to consider my opinions and desires. Sooner or later, we would have parted anyway. Better now, when he had given our savings to his parent. I knew I wouldn’t regret my decision—and life would repeatedly confirm that I had been right.
