The sudden ring of the phone shattered the morning calm, resembling someone hurling a stone into the still waters of a lake. Masha jolted awake. It was three in the morning — nothing good could come from such a late hour.
“Hello?” came her groggy, sleepy voice.
“Masha, why aren’t you picking up? I’ve been calling you all evening!” her mother’s voice resonated through the receiver, loud as ever.
Masha rubbed her eyes, attempting to shake off the remnants of sleep. In the adjacent room, Viktor stirred.
“Mom, it’s three in the morning…”
“Oh, I’m sorry, darling!” Ludmila’s tone lacked even a hint of remorse. “I’m just so excited to share this… We bought a house with Gennady! Can you believe it? A two-story place with a yard! You’ll be amazed when you come!”
Masha struggled to comprehend the meaning of her mother’s words. A house? What house? How did they afford it?
“Mom, wait… What house? How do you have money for…”
“Oh, stop acting like a child!” Ludmila interrupted. “We took a loan, of course. Everyone’s doing it now.”
A knot tightened in Masha’s chest. How could her mother and stepfather, who barely got by on their salaries, manage to buy a house?
“How much?” Masha barely managed to ask.
“Six million!” her mother announced proudly, as if informing her about a lottery win rather than a debt. “Alright, it’s time for you to sleep. Come visit over the weekend, we’ll show you everything!”
Then the line went dead. Masha remained seated with the phone in hand, a bad feeling growing within her.
“Who called?” Viktor mumbled sleepily, appearing in the doorway.
“Mom…” Masha was still grappling with what had just happened. “She says she and Gennady bought a house. On a loan. For six million.”
Viktor immediately woke up, his expression shifted to one of disbelief.
“What do you mean, ‘bought a house’? Your mother has a credit score lower than the floor. Who would give her six million?”
Masha shrugged, confused herself. Ludmila always had monetary troubles, usually borrowing from friends before payday. How could a bank not check her credit history?
A week later, the truth started to reveal itself.
As Masha checked the mail, she found a letter from the bank. Odd, she hadn’t taken out any loans with Viktor. Biting her lip, she opened the envelope and felt her world shift beneath her feet.
“Dear Maria Alekseyevna! This is to remind you that you are acting as a co-borrower on the hypotheek loan…”
Following that were figures with six zeros and a payment schedule.
“She made me a co-borrower,” Masha managed to say when Viktor returned home from work. “Without my knowledge. How is that even possible?”
Viktor snatched the letter from her hands, skimming through it. His face turned red with anger.
“She had that power of attorney left from when you were in the hospital three years ago, remember?” he gritted his teeth. “You never revoked it.”
Masha closed her eyes, realizing how she had overlooked such a crucial detail. At that time, her mother had insisted the power of attorney was only for retrieving her labor book. And Masha had believed her. As usual.
“Call her. Right now,” Viktor was already powering up his laptop. “I’ll look up what we can do legally.”
Ludmila didn’t answer. Not that evening or the following day. Her texts went unanswered.
“We’ll need to go over there,” Masha concluded, packing her bag.
“I’m coming with you,” Viktor declared firmly.
They barely spoke on the way. Masha gazed out the window at the passing houses and trees, while a storm brewed inside her. How could her mother act like this? Wrapping a multimillion debt on her daughter without any consultation?
When they arrived, Ludmila’s new house wasn’t as glamorous as she had painted it. It was a standard two-story box in a cottage community on the outskirts. The only luxury was a new jeep parked in the driveway, clearly beyond her stepfather’s earnings as a mechanic.
Ludmila opened the door, looking as if she had been eagerly awaiting their arrival.
“Finally! I was wondering when you would drop by,” she tried to hug her daughter, but Masha stepped back.
“You took out a mortgage in my name,” it wasn’t a question, but a declaration.
Her mother rolled her eyes, exasperated.
“Oh, Masha, don’t overreact! It’s not your name, just as a co-borrower. It’s a different thing.”
“And what’s the difference, exactly?” Viktor barely restrained himself.
“I’ll pay, of course!” Ludmila gestured grandiosely. “The bank just wouldn’t have approved the amount for me alone. Now we’re all happy — I have my house, and the bank has a reliable co-borrower with good credit.”
“What made you think you could afford such payments?” Masha tried to remain calm, but her voice trembled.
“Gennady got a new job,” Ludmila waved her hand dismissively, as if that explained everything. “Come on, why are you getting so worked up? It doesn’t concern you. I told you — I’ll be the one paying.”
At that moment, her stepfather emerged from deep within the house, a can of beer in hand, acknowledging them with a nod.
“And what if you stop paying?” Viktor’s voice was taut with tension. “What happens then? The bank will come for us!”
“We won’t stop!” Ludmila was beginning to get irritated. “Goodness, what children we have…”
Masha glanced around. A new television, modern furniture, kitchen appliances still in their boxes…
“You have already missed your first payment,” she said quietly.
Silence fell in the room. Ludmila and Gennady exchanged uneasy looks.
“How do you know…” her mother started.
“It was stated in the letter from the bank. You are already two weeks overdue.”
Her stepfather nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“There was an… error with the paycheck. We’ll cover it tomorrow,” he stammered.
“With what funds?” Viktor exploded. “The ones you blew on the jeep?”
Ludmila pursed her lips.
“It’s none of your business what we spend our money on! Masha is my daughter, and if I need help…”
“You take the power of attorney from three years ago meant for entirely different purposes and use it to sign a credit agreement in her name?” Viktor interrupted.
“Who do you think you are?” Gennady suddenly shouted, bristling as he moved toward Viktor. “Coming into someone else’s home like you own the place?”
“In the home you bought with our money? Specifically, our loan,” Viktor shot back.
Gennady advanced toward Viktor, towering over him — easily a head taller and broader by a significant margin.
“What did you say to me, punk? I’ll…”
“Stop!” Masha stepped between them. “We’re leaving. But first, we are going to the bank to annul this contract.”
Ludmila paled.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “The house is already formalized. No turning back.”
“Then we’ll go to the police,” Masha declared firmly. “I never authorized you to manage any documents.”
“Are you threatening me?” Ludmila’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Your own mother?”
“I just want to resolve this situation.”
“Resolve?” Ludmila burst into maniacal laughter. “Too late, daughter! The documents are signed, the money is spent. And if you try anything…” — she paused, “your lovely little business might suddenly encounter tax issues. I have connections, in case you forgot.”
Masha felt chills sweep over her. Her small atelier was just barely staying afloat — any inspection could bring it crashing down.
“You’re threatening me?” Masha echoed her mother’s question.
“I’m warning you,” Ludmila replied. “Be a good daughter, and everything will be alright.”
On the drive home, they fell into a deep silence. Viktor gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned pale. Masha stared out at the scenery with vacant eyes.
“We can file a lawsuit,” Viktor finally broke the silence. “Prove that you didn’t sign the documents.”
“And what will that achieve?” Masha wearily asked. “While the trial goes on, the bank will still demand payments. If we stop paying, we ruin our credit history.”
“And what, are we going to pay for her house for the rest of our lives?”
Masha shut her eyes. Six million… Even with their combined salaries, that was an impossible weight to carry.
“I’ll contact Stepan Arkadyevich,” she decided. “He’s a good lawyer. There must be a way out.”
Stepan Arkadyevich, an elderly lawyer with forty years of experience, listened intently to their story, examined the documents, and sat quietly for what felt like an eternity, tapping his fingers on the table.
“There are two paths,” he finally said. “The first — prove that the power of attorney was misused, and that the signature on the contract is forged. The second — declare your mother bankrupt.”
“Which one is better?” Viktor asked tensely.
“Both options are poor,” the lawyer replied candidly. “In the first instance, you face prolonged litigation, forensics, court appearances… with no guarantee of success. The power of attorney is valid after all.”
“And bankruptcy?”
“Then all of your mother’s property, including this new house, will be put up for auction. However, a portion of the debt may still remain with you.”
“What if we simply pay?” Masha asked quietly.
Stepan Arkadyevich removed his glasses and rubbed his nose wearily.
“That is the simplest yet hardest option. Six million at twelve percent interest over twenty years translates to about sixty thousand monthly.”
Masha recoiled. Almost their entire combined salary.
“But there’s another issue,” the lawyer continued. “If your mother or you decide to sell the property you currently own, the bank may impose restrictions. Essentially, you are trapped.”
Viktor suddenly turned pale.
“Hold on…” he turned to Masha. “We were planning to sell the apartment, remember? To move to the suburbs.”
At home, another unwelcome surprise awaited them. A message blinked on the answering machine. Viktor pressed play.
“Viktor Andreevich, this is Samoylov from the real estate agency. I have bad news. There’s a burden on your apartment — you won’t be able to sell it until you close the mortgage loan of six million rubles. Call me back.”
Masha sank into a chair. Their entire future, all their plans were crumbling before her eyes.
“I’ll talk to her again,” she said resolutely. “Maybe I can reach her…”
“No,” Viktor threw his keys onto the table. “I’ll talk to her. Like a man.”
“Vitya, no scandals,” Masha tried to stop him.
But it was too late. Viktor was already dialing Ludmila’s number. Masha could hear him demanding an immediate rewiring of the contract, his voice growing louder until finally, he exploded into a shout.
“Do you even realize what you’ve done?! We can’t even sell our own apartment now! That’s it, tomorrow we’re going to the bank. And you better show up!”
He tossed the phone onto the couch and turned to Masha, shaking with anger.
“You know what she said? That it’s not her problem! That she’s starting a new life, and she isn’t going to look back! As if we’re some sort of relics, not real people!”
Masha remained silent. Something within her broke — the last glimmer of hope that her mother might have a shred of decency left.
“Masha, are you even listening?” Viktor paced around the room. “We’re doomed! We’ll be paying off this debt until retirement! And your mother will live in her new house, laughing at us! Don’t you get it? We have to do something!”
Masha stared at one point. Her life with her mother flashed before her eyes. The eternal manipulations, constant pleas for money, promises never fulfilled… And now, just when she and Viktor finally had a chance for a better life, her mother had ruined everything again.
“I’ll sue her,” Masha said quietly.
“What?” Viktor stopped mid-step.
“I’m suing my own mother,” her voice regained strength. “Even if it drags me through forensics. Even if it takes years. I won’t allow her to keep destroying my life.”
The next day, they went to Stepan Arkadyevich to begin preparing documents for court. The lawyer warned them that the process would be long and painful. Masha would have to prove that she hadn’t given consent to be a co-borrower.
“Are you ready for it to ruin your relationship with your mother forever?” Stepan Arkadyevich asked seriously.
“What relationship?” Masha scoffed bitterly. “She ruined it herself.”
That evening, the doorbell rang. Gennady was standing on their porch — hefty, disheveled, a faint scent of cheap cologne lingered around him.
“We need to talk,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact.
Viktor blocked his way.
“We have nothing to discuss.”
“That’s not for you to decide, punk,” Gennady roughly shoved Viktor aside and squeezed himself into the hallway. “Masha! Come here! We have a situation!”
Masha emerged from the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest.
“What do you want?”
“Your mother…” Gennady hesitated, rubbing his neck. “Well, she instructed me to say this. You have two options: either you pay the loan and don’t act up, or…” he paused.
“Or what?” Viktor straightened, ready for a fight.
“Or your apartment will go to pay off the debt,” Gennady concluded. “All according to the law. You’re co-borrowers, so the property is also at risk.”
“What?!” Masha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “My mother wants to take our apartment?”
“Not take, but use to pay off the loan,” Gennady corrected. “There’s a big difference.”
“Get out of my house,” Viktor snapped.
But Gennady just smirked:
“Don’t like it? What can you do… Your credit history is ruined, the first payment is overdue. The bank can demand early repayment. And you don’t have that kind of money. So you’ll have to sell the apartment.”
“This is blackmail,” Masha felt her stomach twist.
“This is reality,” Gennady shrugged. “Ludmila said you could move in with us if needed. We’ll be one big happy family.”
He laughed, clearly enjoying his effect on them.
Viktor stepped forward:
“I’m asking you one last time to leave peacefully.”
“Alright, alright,” Gennady held his hands up. “Don’t get all worked up. I was just relaying information. Think it over until tomorrow. Ludmila awaits your response.”
When the door closed behind him, Masha sank to the floor in the hallway.
“They planned this from the start,” she whispered. “To take out a loan in my name and then seize our apartment.”
Viktor sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders:
“We won’t allow it. We’ll go to the police tomorrow. This is grand-scale fraud.”
“And what if we can’t prove it?” Masha stared into the void. “If the forensics confirm that the signature is mine?”
“Then I’ll talk to your mother myself,” Viktor’s voice bore a resolve that scared Masha.
The following evening, Viktor didn’t return from work on time. Masha called him, but his phone was off. She paced the apartment, anxiety clawing at her insides.
At nine, the doorbell rang. Masha opened the door to find a pale Viktor with a swollen lip and a bruise under his eye.
“What happened?” Masha rushed to him.
“Your stepfather happened,” Viktor grimaced as he entered. “He met me outside the office with a couple of friends. Told me not to think about going anywhere.”
“Did they beat you?” Masha touched his face with trembling hands. “We need to go to the police!”
“And what am I supposed to say?” Viktor sighed bitterly. “That I was beaten up by my wife’s stepfather over a loan? They’ll all say I started it.”
“No,” Masha shook her head firmly. “No more letting them walk all over us.”
She grabbed her phone and dialed her mother.
“Masha!” Ludmila’s voice was sickly sweet. “Have you decided when you’ll sell the apartment?”
“Mom, I want to meet. Tomorrow. Just the two of us.”
“Why just the two of us?” Her mother’s voice turned cautious. “Come with Vitya, we can discuss everything…”
“No. Just you and me. At the “Swallow” café at noon.”
There was a pause.
“Fine,” Ludmila finally agreed. “But keep in mind, my decision is final. Either you pay, or you sell the apartment.”
“See you tomorrow, mom,” Masha hung up.
Viktor was upset all night. He didn’t want to let Masha go alone, fearing that Ludmila would lie, confuse her, convince her.
“I have to do this myself,” Masha insisted. “Trust me, I know how to talk to her.”
In the morning, she spent a long time picking out her outfit. Settling on a tailored business suit — wanting to feel protected.
Ludmila was already waiting for her at the café — dressed up, with a new hairstyle and freshly manicured nails. When she saw her daughter, a smile spread across her lips.
“My dear! You look so tired. You really should take better care of yourself!”
Masha quietly sat down opposite her, placing a folder of documents on the table.
“What’s this?” Ludmila nodded towards the folder.
“Our conversation,” Masha replied simply.
“Mom, I know what you did,” Masha began calmly. “You used the old power of attorney to take out a loan in my name. That’s fraud. It carries a penalty of up to ten years.”
Ludmila scoffed:
“Stop saying nonsense! What fraud? I’m your mother.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to control my life,” Masha opened the folder and pulled out the first document. “Here’s the power of attorney. It was issued for retrieving documents from human resources. It expired two years ago.”
Ludmila paled slightly but quickly regained her composure.
“Nonsense! Any court will rule in my favor. A mother helps her daughter, a daughter helps her mother. It’s normal familial relations.”
“Really?” Masha pulled out another document. “How about this? A signature verification report. My actual signature and the one on the contract. They don’t match.”
Ludmila choked on her coffee.
“You’re bluffing,” she rasped. “There was no signature verification.”
“There was,” Masha placed the official report with a stamp in front of her mother. “Stepan Arkadyevich organized it. And that’s not the only proof.”
She pulled out several more papers from the folder:
“Here’s a record of my whereabouts on the day of the contract signing. I was at an exhibition in another city. Here are witness statements from colleagues, and here are my tickets and hotel receipts. Not only did you misuse an expired power of attorney — you forged my signature on an official document.”
Ludmila stared at the papers before shifting her gaze back to her daughter:
“You… you’re conducting an investigation against your own mother?”
“I’m protecting myself and my family,” Masha replied firmly. “And I have a proposal.”
Ludmila tapped nervously on the table with her nails:
“What kind of proposal?”
“Tomorrow we go together to the bank. You admit that you took out the loan without my knowledge using a forged signature. We’ll cancel the contract. You sell the house and return the money to the bank.”
Ludmila burst out laughing:
“Are you out of your mind? Do you think I’d confess to fraud? I’d end up in prison!”
“Possibly,” Masha nodded. “But that’s better than ten years in prison. And I promise not to file charges if you fix everything.”
“What if I refuse?” Ludmila crossed her arms over her chest.
Masha produced a tape recorder from her bag and placed it on the table.
“Then this, along with all the documents, goes to the police. And believe me, Gennady will not be able to save you. An assault report against Viktor is already waiting.”
Ludmila clutched her purse as if it might be snatched away.
“You’re threatening me,” she hissed.
“No, mom. I’m giving you a chance to make things right.”
Ludmila stared at her daughter, and something new flickered in her eyes — not anger or resentment, but surprise bordering on respect.
“You’ve changed,” she finally said. “I used to be able to twist you around my finger.”
“I’ve grown up, mom,” Masha replied quietly. “And I have my own family, my own plans.”
Ludmila sniffled:
“I know… I’m a selfish old woman. I only thought of myself. And now…” — she gestured at the hospital room. “I’m paying the price.”
Masha remained silent, then asked:
“Where’s Gennady? Why isn’t he here with you?”
Ludmila laughed bitterly:
“He ran off. As soon as the heat was on. He took the remaining money and was gone. Called me yesterday from Krasnodar — already got a job. Says it’s all my fault. That it was my plan.”
Masha sat in silence, observing her mother — aged, noticeably wearied in this single week. Was this yet another manipulation, or was she truly broken this time?
“The house is already up for sale,” Ludmila suddenly stated. “I put out an announcement before… — she pointed to her heart. — The realtor called today. There’s a buyer willing to pay five million. Not six, of course, but still…”
“And what about the remaining million?”
“I’ll borrow it from somewhere,” Ludmila waved her hand. “I’ll sell my rings, my fur coat, everything I have. I just don’t want to go to prison.”
“And where will you live?”
“Back in my Khrushchyovka. I’ve already notified the tenants I’m terminating the lease. They were sad but… what can I do…”
A month passed. Masha and Viktor received an official notice from the bank — the loan contract was terminated, the lien on their apartment was lifted. Ludmila sold the house, returning the funds to the bank. Gennady remained missing.
Stepan Arkadyevich informed them that the police were still investigating, but it was likely that Ludmila would receive conditional sentencing. Especially if Masha did not push for maximum prosecution.
“I won’t,” Masha said. “She’s already punished enough.”
One evening, while having dinner, the doorbell rang. Ludmila stood at the threshold, holding a small box.
“May I?” she asked uncertainly.
Viktor started to say something, but Masha stopped him with her gaze:
“Come in, mom.”
Ludmila entered the kitchen, placing the box on the table:
“I baked a pie. Your favorite, with apples.”
Masha quietly took out plates. Viktor demonstratively left the kitchen.
“Don’t be mad at him,” Ludmila said. “He’s right to be angry.”
They sat down at the table. Masha sliced the pie and poured tea.
“How’s your health?” she asked.
“Better,” Ludmila smile faintly. “The doctor said I need to take care of myself. And worry less.”
They fell into silence.
“Masha,” Ludmila finally spoke up. “I came to say… I’m sorry. I realize everything now. Truly.”
Masha looked up at her mother:
“Are you saying this because you’re afraid of the trial?”
Ludmila sighed:
“And because of that too… But not only. I’ve really understood what I’ve done. I almost deprived my only daughter of her home. For what? For showing off to the neighbors? For a house I couldn’t afford?”
She shook her head:
“You know, lying in bed at night in the hospital, thinking that my heart could stop at any moment… You reevaluate a lot.”
Masha was silent. Her mother had apologized so many times in the past, always returning to the same manipulations.
“I brought something else,” Ludmila retrieved an envelope from her bag. “It’s a gift deed for my apartment. To you.”
Masha was taken aback:
“What? Why?”
“So you know: I won’t threaten you again. And so you can be at ease about your future.”
Masha took the envelope but didn’t open it:
“Mom, you don’t have to… Where will you live?”
“I’ve got my current place,” Ludmila shrugged. “The apartment will be yours. Consider it… insurance. So you know that if I do something again, you can evict me.”
She smiled sadly:
“I know you don’t trust my remorse. And rightfully so. I’ve promised to change so many times… Then Gennady came along, filling my head with dreams of a beautiful life…”
Masha put the envelope aside:
“Mom, I cannot accept the apartment. It’s not right.”
“And deceiving your own daughter is right?” Ludmila shook her head. “Just take it. So I can sleep soundly, knowing that I’ve done something good for you.”
In the doorway, Viktor appeared. He had overheard their conversation.
“Ludmila Sergeyevna,” he said after a pause. “Don’t give away the apartment. Masha is right — it’s wrong. But there’s something you can truly do.”
“What?” Ludmila looked up at him.
“Leave us alone,” Viktor simply stated. “Learn to live your life without interfering in ours. Stop manipulating your daughter. That’s the best gift you can give her.”
Ludmila flinched as if slapped. But a moment later, she nodded:
“You’re right. That’s harder than giving away an apartment. But I’ll try.”
She turned to Masha:
“I truly will try, darling. Just don’t cut me out of your life completely. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, but…”
“Mom,” Masha gently interrupted. “Let’s not rush things, okay? You’re saying the right words, but… I need time. We all need time.”
Ludmila nodded, swallowing her tears:
“Of course. I understand. Just know: I’m always close if you need me.”
When her mother left, Masha sat quietly, gazing out the window. Viktor didn’t intrude — he knew his wife needed solitude for her thoughts.
Finally, she turned to him:
“Do you think she will really change this time?”
Viktor sat next to her, wrapping her in an embrace:
“I don’t know. People tend to change when they are at the edge of the abyss. The question is how long that revelation will last.”
“I so want to believe she’s understood…”
“Even if she hasn’t,” Viktor said, “now you know you can stand up for yourself. That you won’t allow yourself to be manipulated anymore.”
Masha nodded. It was true. Something had shifted within her over these weeks. The fear of disappointing her mother had vanished; the eternal guilt, too. She finally understood: the responsibility for others’ actions was not her burden to bear.
“You know,” she said, “I’m not afraid anymore.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of disappointing her. Of doing something wrong. My whole life I’ve tried to be the ‘good daughter’ — and what for? She still tried to use me.”
Viktor pulled her closer:
“You are good. The best. Only now, you’re doing it for yourself, not for her.”
Six months passed. Ludmila truly changed — she became more reserved, stopped asking for money, didn’t push her unsolicited advice. Masha and her mother called once a week, sometimes meeting briefly in a café. Life was gradually stabilizing.
The court sentenced Ludmila to three years probation. They took into account her age, health, sincere remorse, and full restitution of damages. Gennady was declared wanted — it turned out he had pulled similar schemes with three other women.
One evening, Viktor returned home with a bottle of sparkling wine:
“I have news! Remember that house in the suburbs we looked at last year?”
Masha nodded. How could she forget — a small cozy house with a garden, their dream.
“It’s back on the market,” Viktor beamed. “And, importantly, we’ve been approved for a mortgage!”
Masha laughed:
“You’re kidding! After everything that happened?”
“No! — Viktor twirled her around the room. — I couldn’t believe it when the bank called. But we have an excellent credit history, stable incomes… So we can move in a month!”
Suddenly, Masha froze:
“Wait. What about our apartment? We wanted to sell it for the down payment.”
“It’s fine,” Viktor reassured her. “I’ve already talked to the realtor. There are buyers willing to wait while we move in. Everything is falling into place perfectly!”
Masha hugged her husband, burying her face in his shoulder:
“I can’t believe it… after everything we went through…”
“Hey,” Viktor lifted her face by her chin. “We deserve this. By our own efforts, without deception.”
On the day they signed the papers for the house, Masha received a strange message from her mother: “Congratulations on your new home! The keys will be under the doormat.”
She showed the phone to Viktor, puzzled:
“What does this mean? I didn’t mention anything to her about the house.”
Viktor shrugged:
“Maybe she got it mixed up?”
That evening, as they approached their new house with the first boxes, an envelope awaited them on the porch. Inside were a congratulatory card and a note from Ludmila: “My dear, this is not bribery or manipulation. Just a small gift from your mother. I won’t intrude, I promise. Live happily!”
On the kitchen table sat a basket of fruits, a bottle of sparkling wine, and a new set of dishes.
“How did she find out?” Masha wondered.
“I told her,” Viktor replied calmly. “I called her a couple of days ago.”
“You?!” Masha couldn’t believe her ears. “But why?”
Viktor embraced her:
“Because she has changed. Truly changed. And you know what she said when I called? That if we let her visit sometimes, it’d be more than she deserves.”
Masha smiled:
“Maybe… maybe now everything will indeed be different.”
And in her pocket, her phone vibrated — a message from her mother: “I won’t ask if you liked the gift. Just know: I’m here if you need me. And I love you very, very much.”
Masha looked at the screen, then at Viktor, and replied with a single word: “Thank you.”
Five years have passed. Masha and Viktor’s little country house underwent a complete transformation. An addition with a children’s room was built, a bright playground adorned the yard, and neatly arranged beds with strawberries and herbs lined the fence.
Masha sat on the porch, watching four-year-old Sonya and two-year-old Misha play in the sandbox. Viktor was tending to the barbecue — today was their family celebration, marking five years since they moved into this house.
“Be careful with the shovel, Sonya!” Masha shouted as she noticed her daughter raise the toy over her little brother.
“I’m just showing Misha how to dig properly!” the girl pouted but lowered the shovel.
Masha smiled. Her daughter was growing to be as stubborn and determined as she had been. The only difference was that Masha hadn’t had anyone to stop her in her childhood — her mother was usually caught up in her own affairs.
The sound of a car approaching caught their attention at the gate.
“Grandma’s here!” Sonya exclaimed joyfully and dashed to open the door.
Ludmila Sergeyevna, noticeably aged but still well-groomed and neatly dressed, entered the yard with a big bag of treats. The children immediately surrounded her, pleading for gifts.
“First, hug grandma properly,” she smiled, kneeling down.
Masha observed this scene with warmth, which once seemed impossible. Over the years, her relationship with her mother had truly changed. Ludmila learned to keep her distance — she called, but not every day; she visited but always with prior notice, offered help with the kids without imposing her parenting methods.
“Hi, mom,” Masha embraced her mother. “How are you?”
“All good, darling. Retirement is calmer than I expected,” Ludmila sat on the porch. “And where is my favorite son-in-law?”
“Viktor is working his magic on the meat,” Masha smiled. “He’s been looking forward to this day. He even took a day off.”
That evening, when the kids were already asleep and Ludmila had retired to the guest room, Masha and Viktor were left alone on the veranda. The quiet crackle of candles filled the air, and the chirping of crickets resonated from the garden.
“It’s hard to believe it’s been five years,” Masha pondered aloud, gazing at the stars. “Remember how scared we were we wouldn’t manage to cover the mortgage?”
Viktor wrapped his arms around her:
“Of course! After that ordeal with your mother, I was terrified of any loans.”
Masha nodded. The saga involving the forged signature and six million in debt felt far off now, almost unreal.
“You know what’s most surprising?” she faced her husband. “Mom truly changed. Not immediately, of course. But when Sonya was born…”
“Yes,” Viktor agreed. “Motherhood changed you, and grandmotherhood changed her. Although I doubted until the end that she could do it.”
“By the way, have you heard about Gennady?” Viktor asked, pouring tea.
Masha frowned:
“No. What about him?”
“Stepan Arkadyevich told me. He was finally caught in Kazakhstan. It turns out he ran a similar scheme with three other women. Consistently the same thing — got close to lonely women with adult children, convinced them to take loans for the kids, and then disappeared with the money.”
Masha shook her head:
“Poor women… Thank goodness we managed to put a stop to that madness back then.”
“Yes,” Viktor nodded. “Sometimes I think: what would have happened if you hadn’t stood your ground? If we had simply agreed to pay or surrendered the apartment?”
“We wouldn’t be sitting here on this veranda,” Masha replied simply. “And maybe there wouldn’t be children. Where would we have found the strength for a family when feelings of injustice consumed us?”
In the morning, Masha was woken by her phone ringing. It was Varvara, her old friend:
“Masha, turn on the TV! They’re showing your ex-stepfather!”
Masha descended to the kitchen and switched on the small television. Indeed, there was Gennady — gaunt, in handcuffs, being led away by the police.
“What’s happening?” Ludmila entered the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Gennady got arrested,” Masha nodded at the screen. “It looks like he’s really facing jail time.”
Ludmila sank into a chair:
“Wow… And I almost went to prison because of him.”
“Not just because of him,” Masha gently corrected her. “You chose to forge my signature.”
Ludmila sighed:
“I know, darling. Every day I’m thankful to fate for you stopping me. Or else I’d be sitting in prison like Gennady.”
Masha squeezed her mother’s hand:
“Everything turned out alright. We all learned our lessons.”
That evening, after Ludmila had gone home, and the kids were asleep, Masha found an old photograph. It showed them together before all this trouble with the loan. Both smiling at the camera, but now Masha could see something she didn’t notice before: the tension behind those smiles, the strain between them.
She pulled out her phone and found a recent photo from a picnic — them, with her mother and the kids in a meadow. Their smiles were genuine, and their embraces felt real.
“What are you looking at?” Viktor sat down beside her.
“Thinking about how sometimes you have to reach the edge of the abyss to start over,” Masha replied, showing him the pictures. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but… I’m glad mom took that loan.”
“Seriously?” Viktor was surprised.
“Yeah,” Masha nodded. “Because otherwise, we would still be living in that toxic codependency. And now… now we have a real family. With boundaries and genuine, healthy love.”
That night was bittersweet. Ludmila had indeed changed — she became less invasive, ceased asking for financial aid, left her unsolicited advice aside. Their relationship steadily improved.
By the time their children were nearing school age, Masha and Victor had built a nurturing environment where laughter echoed, and love thrived, all while learning to navigate their new reality with hope and determination. For Ludmila, her newfound respect for distance allowed her to not only stay connected but also gain the trust she desperately sought but had for so long jeopardized.