“You’re sending money to your son? We divorced six months ago,” the daughter-in-law said. An hour later, the mother-in-law discovered where her savings had really gone.
“What forty thousand rubles, Galina Sergeyevna? Anton and I have been divorced for six months.”
Marina said it loudly enough that a woman at the next supermarket checkout stopped packing her groceries.
Galina Sergeyevna froze with a package of cottage cheese pressed against her chest.
That very morning, Anton had told her that he still transferred money to Marina every month. He had even explained it with a serious expression.
“After a divorce, you can’t just leave a woman without any support.”
Galina had praised him for being responsible.
Now Marina stood in front of her, thinner than Galina remembered, her hair cut short, wearing a simple blue coat.
She looked completely confused.
“Wait,” Galina said quietly. “Six months? Anton told me you were only living separately for a while.”
Marina gave a bitter smile.
“Of course he did. What else did he tell you?”
“That you rented a place closer to work. That things were difficult between you. That he was helping you financially.”
“Helping me?”
Marina almost laughed.
“Galina Sergeyevna, I haven’t received a single ruble from Anton since April. Actually, during the last three months of our marriage, I was the one supporting him.”
The cottage cheese slipped from Galina’s hands and landed in her basket.
“That can’t be true.”
“I used to tell myself the same thing.”
They left the supermarket and went to a café across the street.
Outside, cold autumn rain tapped against the windows.
Galina sat in front of an untouched cup of tea, listening as the image she had built of her son slowly began to collapse.
Anton was her only child.
Her husband had died twelve years earlier, and after that, Anton became the center of her life.
She was proud of him. He had graduated from university, married a decent woman, and worked as a manager for a construction company.
Yes, he changed jobs often, but there was always an explanation. The boss was unreasonable. The salary was too low. There was no future there.
Galina had always believed him.
“When did he lose his job?” she asked.
“In February.”
Galina frowned.
“But he goes to work every Monday.”
“Where?”
“To the office.”
Marina slowly shook her head.
“He stopped working in February. At first he looked for something new. Then he gave up. He stayed home, played games, met friends. Whenever I said anything, he told me not to pressure him because he was ‘trying to find himself.’”
Galina’s face went pale.
“But he told me he was going on business trips.”
“What business trips?”
Marina fell silent after seeing Galina’s expression.
“Go on,” Galina said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Marina took a breath.
“In March I found out about the loans. First it was one hundred and twenty thousand rubles. Then I discovered more. He kept borrowing from one place to pay another. I sold my car and cleared part of the debt. Two weeks later, he borrowed again.”
“For what?”
“Games. Bars. Betting. Courses promising fast money. He was always convinced he was one opportunity away from becoming rich.”
Galina covered her face.
Then suddenly, she remembered June.
Anton had come to her apartment late one evening.
“Mom, Marina needs surgery.”
Galina slowly lowered her hands.
“I gave him money.”
Marina stared at her.
“How much?”
“Two hundred and eighty thousand.”
“For what?”
“For your operation.”
Marina leaned back.
“I never had an operation.”
Galina stared at her for several seconds.
Then she laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
The sound was quiet, empty and frightening.
“So that was a lie too.”
On the way home, Galina replayed everything in her mind.
Two hundred and eighty thousand for Marina’s supposed surgery.
Seventy thousand for a broken car.
One hundred thousand for an urgent work project.
More money for debts.
And only a week earlier, Anton had asked for another two hundred thousand.
He told her he wanted to put a deposit on an apartment.
“Marina and I are going to get back together, Mom. I want to start over.”
She had agreed.
Because she was his mother.
Because she felt sorry for him.
Because every time Anton asked for money, he said the same thing.
“You’re not giving it to a stranger.”
At home, Galina pulled out an old notebook where she recorded her expenses.
She added the amounts.
Six hundred and fifty thousand rubles.
Then she checked her savings account.
A year earlier, she had almost nine hundred thousand rubles.
Now she had one hundred and eighty-seven thousand.
She and her late husband had spent years saving that money.
Anton knew exactly what it meant to her.
At around nine that evening, he called.
“Mom, are you home?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come tomorrow. Remember the money we talked about? I need it before noon.”
Galina looked at her late husband’s photograph on the shelf.
“Come tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Now.”
Anton arrived an hour later.
But he was not alone.
A stylish young woman followed him inside.
“Mom, this is Lera.”
Galina looked at her son.
“What about Marina?”
Anton froze.
Only for a second, but it was enough.
“What about her?”
“Aren’t you getting back together?”
Lera turned toward him.
“Getting back together with whom?”
“His ex-wife,” Galina said.
Lera’s expression changed.
“You told me you divorced her almost a year ago.”
“Almost.”
“Six months,” Galina corrected.
Anton pulled off his jacket sharply.
“Can we not turn this into a circus?”
“Fine,” his mother said. “Sit down.”
“I’ll stand.”
Galina opened her notebook.
“Two hundred and eighty thousand for Marina’s surgery. Seventy thousand for the car. One hundred thousand for work. More for an urgent debt. And now two hundred thousand for an apartment so you can get your wife back.”
Lera stared at him.
“What surgery?”
Anton looked furious.
“Mom, why are you involving her?”
“Because Marina told me today that there was no surgery.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Then Galina said, “Show me the transfers.”
“What transfers?”
“The forty thousand you supposedly send Marina every month.”
“I gave her cash.”
“You’re lying.”
“Mom.”
“You’re lying!”
Galina slammed her palm onto the table.
“I spent half my life working as an accountant. Your father and I saved every kopek. We wanted to give you an education and make sure I wouldn’t have to depend on anyone after he died. And you turned my savings into your personal wallet.”
Anton said nothing.
Then Lera asked quietly, “Where did the money for our apartment come from?”
Galina looked at her.
“Our apartment?”
“Anton said he had saved enough for the deposit.”
That was the moment everything became clear.
Lera left soon afterward.
Anton did not stop her.
When the door closed, he dropped into a chair.
“Happy now?”
Galina stared at him.
“You think I did this?”
“You ruined everything.”
“And you lied to me for six months.”
“I had to. Otherwise you wouldn’t have given me the money.”
The words came out before he could stop them.
Galina slowly nodded.
“There it is.”
Anton looked away.
“I had debts.”
“How much?”
He hesitated.
“About a million.”
“From what?”
“Betting.”
He admitted that he had won at first, then lost. He borrowed money to win it back, lost again, and borrowed more to pay the interest.
“And the money for Marina’s surgery?”
“I used it for the debt.”
“My pension?”
He remained silent.
“The car?”
“It never broke down.”
Galina walked toward the window.
Then she turned around.
“Leave.”
“Mom.”
“Leave.”
“I have nowhere to go.”
“Where have you been living?”
Anton hesitated.
“Here.”
Galina stared at him.
“For the last two months.”
Suddenly, everything made sense.
The missing food.
The messy bedspread in the spare room.
The dirty cups she did not remember using.
He had been secretly staying in her apartment while pretending to have a job and his own place.
The next morning, Galina called Marina.
An hour later, Marina sat in the kitchen while Anton stood near the door.
Galina placed a sheet of paper in front of him.
“This is what you owe me.”
Anton smirked.
“And how am I supposed to pay it?”
“You’ll work.”
“I don’t have a job.”
“You’ll find one.”
Then Galina pulled out a sports bag.
“Your things are inside. Leave your keys on the table.”
Anton turned pale.
“You’re throwing out your own son?”
“My adult son.”
“And where am I supposed to go?”
Galina looked at him for a long moment.
“I don’t know. When you took the money meant for my old age, you didn’t ask what would happen to me.”
At the door, Anton tried one last thing.
“Dad would never have done this.”
Galina’s expression hardened.
“Don’t hide behind your father. He worked after a heart attack because he wanted to finish paying the mortgage and give you a proper start in life. You wasted in months what he saved for years.”
Anton picked up the bag.
He waited at the door as though expecting her to change her mind.
She didn’t.
He placed the keys on the table and left.
Four months later, Marina met Galina for coffee.
Galina looked different. She had cut her hair, bought herself a new coat and even started swimming.
“Does Anton call?” Marina asked.
“Yes.”
“Is he working?”
“At a warehouse.”
“Is he paying you back?”
“He sent fifteen thousand.”
Marina smiled.
“That’s something.”
“The money isn’t the most important part,” Galina said.
“What is?”
“For the first time in years, he called me and didn’t ask for anything.”
Anton had spent weeks staying with friends. Lera never returned. Eventually, he rented a room and accepted an ordinary warehouse job.
Galina stopped paying his debts.
She stopped rescuing him.
She stopped believing every story about a “last chance.”
But she did not stop being his mother.
When he called, she answered.
When he complained, she listened.
And when he asked for money, she simply said:
“No.”
It was one short word.
But after a lifetime of saying yes, it was the hardest word she had ever learned to say.
Months later, Anton came to her apartment carrying groceries.
“Mom,” he said quietly, “I won’t repay everything quickly.”
“I know.”
“But I will repay it.”
Then he admitted that he owed Marina money too.
“I wrote to her.”
“What did she say?”
Anton smiled weakly.
“She said I should become a decent human being first.”
Galina almost smiled.
“She’s a sensible woman.”
Anton looked at her.
“Are you always going to take her side now?”
Galina shook her head.
“I’m not on her side, Anton. I’m not on yours either. I’m on the side of the truth. I just used to believe the truth would always be on my child’s side.”
The kitchen fell silent.
Galina looked at her son and understood their relationship would never be the same.
Perhaps that was exactly what they both needed.
Because loving an adult child does not always mean saving them.
Sometimes love begins when you finally stop protecting them from the consequences of their own choices.
