The weak winter sunlight barely reached the small kitchen of Tanya’s modest two-room apartment, purchased three years ago with a mortgage. Cold air pressed insistently against the windows, yet radiators diligently maintained a cozy warmth inside. Sitting before a cup of coffee, Tanya sifted through bills strewn across the table. Her evening ritual of examining the family budget every Saturday morning was unwavering. At thirty-eight, a bookkeeper with a decade and a half of experience, she approached finances with meticulous care and seriousness.
A phone on the table vibrated. It was only eight in the morning, yet her sister’s name illuminated the screen. Tanya inhaled deeply, bracing herself. Vika rarely called without reason, especially at this early hour.
“Hey Tanya,” her sister’s voice was falsely sweet. “Did I wake you?”
“No, I’ve been up for a while,” Tanya replied, sipping her coffee while anticipating the inevitable request.
“Listen, there’s a situation… Katya’s school told us to pay for an upcoming trip. I totally forgot, and they leave tomorrow. Four thousand rubles… You understand, salary isn’t due for another week.”
There it was again—another plea. Tanya glanced down at the neat columns of figures in her ledger. That month’s budget was planned to the last kopeck: mortgage payments, household bills, groceries, transportation. A small sum was reserved for her first vacation in three years, scheduled for summer.
“Alright, I’ll transfer it,” Tanya responded curtly, jotting a note in her book. “When does Katya return?”
“Monday evening,” Vika breathed with relief. “Thanks, Tanya! You know I just want the best for my daughter. I don’t want her to feel left out.”
After hanging up, Tanya opened her banking app and sent the money. This was already the third help she’d given in a month. First for Katya’s antibiotics, then an unexpected washing machine repair. Vika’s way of asking was always subtle—“you’re the elder,” “you understand,” “just this once.”
- Five years ago, Vika divorced her husband and raised her daughter alone.
- Initial requests were truly necessary—food, medicine, clothes.
- Tanya’s empathy and financial independence made it hard to decline.
Tanya remembered exactly how it all began. Though she earned well and lived alone, helping her family felt natural. She could not turn away from her sister’s tears or her niece’s sad eyes.
Yet a week later, visiting their mother’s house, Tanya spotted Vika flaunting a brand-new handbag.
“That’s beautiful!” Tanya commented.
“Really?” Vika beamed. “Got it on sale for just six thousand rubles at the store. Sometimes I deserve to treat myself too.”
Something inside Tanya tightened. Six thousand for a purse, when just days earlier, Vika claimed lack of funds for the school trip? She stayed silent to avoid spoiling the mood.
The door opened, and their mother, Irina Pavlovna, entered—an energetic woman of sixty-three with neatly styled gray hair.
“Tanya’s here!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “I’ve just baked your favorite pastries.”
During tea, conversation inevitably turned to money.
“Vika told me you’ve been helping her,” their mother said, resting a hand on Tanya’s shoulder. “Good job. That’s what family is about. Now you’re like the man of the house—earning well and responsible.”
“Mom, Vika has a stable job too,” Tanya remarked, surprised at the comparison.
“Yes, but she has a child!” Irina Pavlovna shook her head. “It’s harder for a woman. And what does she make? What’s your salary, Vika?”
“Twenty-five thousand,” Vika shrugged.
“See? And you? Sixty thousand, right?”
Tanya felt uneasy as her pay became family talk.
“Exactly!” their mother declared triumphantly. “You should help. Family means responsibility.”
Tanya sat stunned by her mother’s frankness. Since when was helping expected without question? When did support transform into obligation?
Spring brought new demands. Vika called, asking Tanya to cover twelve thousand for Katya’s English courses for six months. Then came a request for a new smartphone “to stay connected for work.” By June, their mother added bills to fix the fridge and replace a kitchen window.
Each time, Tanya reached for her wallet or phone app. Each time, she felt the weight of expectant eyes and the familiar “you understand” echoing in her ears.
When the office announced bonus cuts due to company financial hardship, Tanya’s anxiety peaked. Her income dropped by a third, yet fixed expenses remained. Hard choices loomed: ruthless saving or even canceling the long-awaited vacation.
That evening, Vika sent a message: “Hey! Need help. Katya wants to go to a seaside camp with her class. The trip costs 35,000 rubles. I can raise half, but the rest… You know how important this is for her.”
Tanya stared at the screen. Seventeen and a half thousand rubles—the very amount she had been saving for her own holiday for months.
“Have you taken a vacation recently?” her coworker Svetlana asked, noticing the dark circles under Tanya’s eyes.
“Three years ago,” Tanya rubbed her temples. “Can’t seem to get away.”
“Work or money?” Svetlana inquired sympathetically.
“Both… and family issues…” Tanya evaded.
“I understand,” Svetlana nodded. “My brother’s the same. As soon as he gets paid, he calls for a ‘loan.’ But I’ve drawn the line. Love is love, but money is labor and time. No one has the right to spend my resources without my consent.”
Her words lingered in Tanya’s mind. “No one has the right.” Memories flashed of all the times she reached for her wallet without hesitation, setting aside her own desires and sacrifices.
Vika phoned three times, but Tanya ignored the calls. That night, a text appeared: “What’s wrong? Why won’t you answer? So, are you helping with the camp or not? Katya already told everyone she’s going.”
Tanya inhaled deeply and typed back: “Not this month.”
The phone erupted with messages: “Seriously?” “What am I supposed to tell Katya?” “I thought I could count on you.” “You’ve gotten selfish. You used to be different.”
The final message landed hard, no thanks for past support, no empathy—only blame.
The next morning, Irina Pavlovna called.
“Tanya, what do you think you’re doing?” Her voice trembled with indignation. “Vika cried all evening! Katya dreamed so much about the camp!”
“Mom, my bonuses were cut,” Tanya answered calmly. “I can’t help like before.”
“But this is for the child!” Her mother dismissed her explanation. “Can’t you just bear it a little? You’ve always been so selfish!”
Something inside Tanya broke. “Selfish? After all these years of constant help?”
“Can we talk later?” Tanya ended the call without waiting for an answer.
Two days later, the family gathered for cousin Klavdia Mikhailovna’s birthday. Tanya wanted to skip it, yet declining might fuel gossip.
The aunt’s living room brimmed with relatives. The festive table groaned beneath dishes. Tanya settled quietly in a corner, hoping to avoid attention. When gift time arrived, all eyes turned to her.
“Where’s your gift, Tanya? You usually give such wonderful things!” Klavdia Mikhailovna inquired.
Tanya offered a small box containing silver earrings—a modest yet elegant present.
“That’s all?” Aunt sighed. “Last time you gave me a tea set.”
Uncomfortable silence filled the room. Vika sat opposite, deliberately avoiding Tanya’s gaze. When tea was served, Irina Pavlovna suggested:
“Tanya, can you buy a cake? We’re light on dessert.”
All eyes fixed expectantly on Tanya, waiting for her usual compliance and willingness to pay.
Tanya caught Katya’s look—a strange mixture of anticipation and… hope? No, calculation. The girl knew her aunt hardly ever refused.
The silence grew heavy as everyone awaited her response.
“I won’t go,” Tanya said calmly, sipping tea. “If we want cake, we can chip in.”
The family exchanged surprised glances. Vika snorted disdainfully, as if Tanya spoke indecently. Aunt Klavdia blinked uncertainly, unsure how to react.
“Fine,” sighed Irina Pavlovna. “No cake then.”
The evening dragged on under a tense atmosphere. Tanya left early, citing a headache. In truth, her pain wasn’t physical, but mental. She had refused her family for the first time. The feeling was both frightening and liberating.
Two weeks later came another important day—Irina Pavlovna’s birthday. Over recent years, the occasion had become Tanya’s unspoken duty: a restaurant reservation, a gift (usually household appliances or jewelry), a cake, and champagne. All these costs and efforts fell on her shoulders without explicit demand but inevitably.
That morning, Tanya called her mother.
“Happy birthday, Mom,” Tanya greeted warmly.
“Thank you, dear,” came a restrained reply. “When will you arrive? Everyone’s gathering by four.”
“I’ll be there by four,” Tanya confirmed and hung up.
At the scheduled time, Tanya climbed the stairs of the panel apartment where her mother lived, carrying only a small purse and a modest bouquet of chrysanthemums—her mother’s favorites. No food packages, no heavy gift boxes.
Vika opened the door, glancing at Tanya with thinly veiled surprise.
“Where’s everything?” the younger sister blurted.
“What do you mean, everything?” Tanya asked evenly, offering the flowers.
“Well… the food, the cake…” Vika hesitated, unwilling to voice the unspoken.
“I brought flowers,” Tanya replied, stepping inside and removing her shoes in the hallway.
The living room held other family members already. Uncle Kostya, Irina Pavlovna’s brother—a hefty man with thinning hair—sat by the window. Vika’s husband Viktor shifted awkwardly near the balcony, fidgeting with his shirt button. Katya, Vika’s thirteen-year-old daughter, was engrossed in her phone. Their mother bustled in the kitchen.
The table appeared unusually sparse: Olivier salad, sliced sausage, bread, a few pickles on a plate. No festive cake, no signature French chicken dish Tanya usually ordered from a restaurant, not even a bottle of champagne.
“Tanya’s here!” Vika announced as she followed her sister inside.
“Just you?” Irina Pavlovna peeked from the kitchen, surveying Tanya from head to toe.
“Yes, who else did you expect?” Tanya kissed her mother’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Mom. Chrysanthemums—your favorite.”
“Thanks,” Irina Pavlovna accepted the bouquet, but disappointment shimmered in her eyes. “Nothing else?”
Tanya pretended not to grasp the hint.
“Sit; everything is ready,” her mother sighed, placing the flowers in a vase.
The family gathered around the table. Vika opened her purse and counted cash, whispering to her husband. Viktor shrugged as if to say, “What can I do?”
“Never thought we’d be ordering our own food,” Irina Pavlovna dramatized while serving salad. “Usually, Tanya organizes it all.”
Tanya calmly spread butter on bread, unbothered by the subtle jab.
“Shall we order pizza?” Vika suggested, glancing at her sister. “Tanya, what do you think?”
“Good idea,” Tanya nodded. “Who’s ordering?”
“You usually do,” Vika nudged her phone toward Tanya.
“This time you do,” Tanya smiled, sipping water.
An awkward silence settled. All eyes locked on Tanya, waiting for her to jump up, apologize, and fork out cash. But she kept eating calmly, making small talk about the weather.
“Maybe split the bill?” Uncle Kostya finally broke the tension. “A thousand each?”
“Only five hundred on me,” Viktor muttered.
“I have no money,” shrugged Katya without looking up.
“My pension’s in three days,” sighed Uncle Kostya.
Vika silently placed a thousand rubles on the table, staring pointedly at Tanya.
“Here,” Tanya added her thousand calmly. “That’ll cover a couple of pizzas.”
“But you usually pay for everything,” Vika said, unable to hold back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Tanya shrugged. “We all pay for ourselves. Isn’t that normal?”
“But it’s Mom’s birthday!” Vika objected.
“Exactly,” Tanya agreed. “That’s why we’re all here—to celebrate her. Together.”
Viktor seemed relieved by this change. He quickly pulled out his phone and started choosing pizzas, defusing the rising conflict.
Time passed slowly. Conversation stalled. Irina Pavlovna occasionally cast hurt looks at Tanya; Vika nervously bounced her leg under the table.
“Will there be gifts?” Katya asked once pizza was finished.
“Of course,” Vika pulled a small box from her purse. “From us—me, Katya, and Viktor.”
Inside was an inexpensive perfume bottle. Irina Pavlovna expressed thanks, but it was clear the gift failed expectations.
“Tanya, what about your gift?” Katya asked, curious as she glanced at her aunt.
“Flowers,” Tanya replied simply. “Mom’s favorite chrysanthemums.”
The room sank into heavy silence. Tanya finished her tea calmly and glanced at the clock.
“I must go,” she said, standing. “Early morning tomorrow. Happy birthday again, Mom.”
After the door closed behind Tanya, absolute quiet filled the room. Irina Pavlovna stared at the flowers in the vase, Vika tapped her fingers nervously on the table, Viktor sighed quietly in relief, and Katya looked up from her phone, puzzled.
“What happened to Aunt Tanya?” the girl asked. “Why is everyone acting so strange?”
“Aunt Tanya has changed,” Vika murmured. “She used to be normal, but now… selfish.”
“I think she just stopped financing everyone,” Viktor unexpectedly said. “Which was the right thing.”
“What?!” Vika turned indignantly to her husband.
“What?” Viktor shrugged. “How long can she keep supporting everyone? She has her own life and expenses.”
“Whose side are you on?” Vika raised her voice.
“Common sense’s side,” Viktor replied, looking her in the eyes for the first time in a while. “We’re all adults. Stop waiting for someone else to solve our problems.”
It felt like the electricity had gone out in the apartment. Silence was so dense the ticking of the old wall clock was audible. But it wasn’t the power that had failed—it was the collapse of unspoken expectations and invisible family dynamics that had held them together for years.
Tanya walked the evening streets, breathing in the cool spring air. A strange sense of freedom filled her chest. It wasn’t that she’d stopped loving her family—her love remained—but the chains of silent obligations, unseen threads of guilt and duty woven over years, had vanished.
Key Insight: Loving someone doesn’t mean bearing all financial burdens. True relationships flourish when based on equality and mutual respect, not on monetary dependence.
For now, she resolved to live her own life—for the first time in many years.