“Alright then, Olga Sergeevna, let’s sign this…” Irina Borisovna from HR said cheerfully, handing her the promotion order. “Deputy department head starting tomorrow. Salary increase by forty percent. And, as you understand, more responsibilities too.”
Olga took the pen and signed, exhaling deeply. It wasn’t something she had dreamt about—no, she didn’t imagine drawing Excel spreadsheets on walls as a child. However, after eight years of hard work, overtime, nerve-wracking breakdowns, and endless meetings, it felt good. Really good to realize that people valued you not just for tolerating your boss’s ridiculous requests.
On her way back, she stopped at the local grocery store — routine: milk, cheese, vegetables. Without thinking, she grabbed a pack of shrimp too — Sergey liked them. And a bottle of wine, to celebrate. She even thought maybe tonight things would be different. They could finally talk like humans. Celebrate together.
At home, silence greeted her. Well, the TV was buzzing — some gangster series where everyone yells and shoots. Sergey sat sunk into his phone.
“Hi…” Olga took off her shoes, set the bags on the kitchen counter. “Why are you like this?”
Sergey didn’t look up.
“Mom came by. She’s waiting for you,” he muttered with a twisted expression.
“Waiting where?” Olga frowned. “I just got back from work.”
No sooner had she put the milk in the fridge than the doorbell rang. Of course. Lidiya Petrovna. How could it be otherwise?
At the doorway stood her mother-in-law — lively, well-groomed, wearing her signature beige coat, with the air of someone owed lifelong favor.
“Finally!” she exclaimed, brushing past Olga. “I wondered how long you’d make me wait! I was coming and coming, and look — here you are!”
Behind her waddled Valeriy Ivanovich — the father-in-law, a man whose face showed he’d spent life annoyed by others.
“Sit down,” Olga said dryly, realizing the evening was not about wine and shrimp anymore.
“Listen, Olechka…” Lidiya Petrovna began, batting her eyelashes. “Valerichka and I thought… You’re a serious person now, with a good position. You know our apartment needs renovation for ages! The ceiling leaks, wiring is old… That’s a safety issue! And then…” She paused, “a spark — and a fire, God forbid! You understand, right?”
Olga looked at her, slowly realizing the discussion was far from what she’d hoped.
“So?” she asked shortly.
“Well…” the mother-in-law sighed coquettishly. “We figured… if you take a small loan — what’s that for you? Your salary allows it! For the renovation! For the family!”
Sergey, still not lifting his eyes, grunted, “Yeah, good idea. My mom and I calculated, it’s just pennies.”
Olga blinked.
“We?”
“Of course, we!” Lidiya Petrovna brightened. “Who else will think about family? Not some strangers! You get it, Olechka… We do it for all of us! For your husband, for future kids…” She gave Olga a pointed look, implying that at thirty-five, it was time.
“Wait,” Olga’s voice was low with surprise. “You… you decided I should take a loan… to renovate your apartment?”
“Well, who else, Olechka?” – the mother-in-law raised her eyebrows. “Valerichka is retired. Sergey’s salary… You’re now the family support! You understand, right?”
Sergey finally looked up with a strange expression — maybe guilty, maybe bored.
“Mom, it’s not that hard. Think about it. The payment is twenty-five thousand per month. You’ll barely notice.”
Olga stood up, her hands trembling slightly.
“So you discussed everything without me?”
“What’s there to discuss?” the mother-in-law spread her arms widely. “It’s logical! You’re in a position now. You must help your relatives. We’re one family! Or what?”
“One family?” Olga repeated, feeling her anger rising. “So when I work late until ten in the evening, it’s ‘my choice,’ but when money’s involved — suddenly it’s ‘family’?”
Lidiya Petrovna tilted her head, feigning confusion, “Olechka, why are you acting like this? I get it — work, stress… But think about the future. Besides, why are you so nervous? Maybe you should see a doctor? Hormones, probably…”
Olga felt heat rising to her cheeks.
“Seriously? Doctor? Maybe YOU, Lidiya Petrovna, need a doctor or a therapist? Because this ‘we’ve already decided’ business is at least strange.”
Suddenly Sergey slammed his palm on the table:
“Olya, stop! Don’t start hysterics! What kind of person are you? Talking to you is impossible! Mom’s right — you’ve become nervous. This is just a request. Help the family.”
“A request?” Olga asked, laughing bitterly. “You decided everything without me already. Taking a loan at my expense — that’s a request now?”
“Why are you making a fuss?” Sergey growled. “Calm down.”
“Ah…” Olga nodded slowly. “I’ll calm down. Very soon.”
She went to the closet silently, pulled out a travel bag from the shelf, went back to the bedroom, and began stuffing clothes inside.
“Olechka, what are you doing?!” her mother-in-law jumped up. “Don’t be dramatic! We’re trying to be nice!”
Olga silently tossed chargers, laptop, and a couple of books into the bag.
“Are you serious?” Sergey demanded. “Where are you going?”
“To breathe, Sergey. To think. About what’s really going on. Because this — definitely isn’t working.”
She zipped the bag quickly, approached the front door, looked back:
“You know what? Now everyone can think only about themselves. You — about your ceiling, Sergey — about your mother, and I… I’ll think about myself.”
The lock clicked. Behind her, voices echoed:
“That’s it, Valera, raised her well — but she turned into a selfish girl.”
“Right, and proud too. Who needs someone like that with such an attitude?”
Olga went down the stairs, sensing the tension fading with every step. Yet emptiness came along, accompanied by an unpleasant fear: what next?
Olga woke up at her friend’s place — on a creaky fold-out sofa, under a synthetic blanket embroidered with “Love.” Morning sunlight streamed in, a coffee machine whirred somewhere in the kitchen, and her mind was swarming with thoughts.
“Well, soldier friend,” Natasha’s voice called from the kitchen, “congratulations on your new start. Freedom, independence, a couch, and a miracle blanket as a gift.”
Olga sat up and rubbed her face.
“Funny, thanks. But I don’t need a divorce… or maybe I do.” She paused. “Actually, it looks like exactly that.”
Natasha came out with two cups of coffee, plopped down beside her.
- “Olga, don’t get so worked up,” she advised. “Sleep on it. Although…” she smirked, “I would’ve already put Sergey’s suitcase in the stairwell yesterday. With a big note.”
- “It’s not just about the loan,” Olga replied, gazing into her cup. “It’s everything. Their constant ‘you must’. That I’m a resource — money, time, nerves. And if I say ‘no,’ I’m bad, scandalous, hysterical, nervous. But if I say ‘yes,’ I’m the ‘good girl’ — as long as there’s anything left to squeeze out of me.”
“Sounds just like my situation with my ex,” Natasha chuckled. “As long as I paid the mortgage, I was sweet. Once I said ‘enough,’ he screamed I was a heartless witch. Classic, Olga. Life lessons.”
The phone beeped. Sergey’s message:
“When you return, let’s talk. Mom’s worried. Don’t be selfish.”
Olga stared at the screen, cheeks flushing.
“Listen, Natash, can I stay a few more days here? Until… until I figure out what’s next.”
“What? Are you kidding? Of course, stay! At least a month. You’re like family to me. Or a mother-in-law. But a normal one, not like your Lidiya Petrovna, God forbid.”
Olga smiled genuinely for the first time in a day.
“Thank you.”
That evening, Lidiya Petrovna called. No, called several times. And as Olga was about to ignore, came a message:
“OLYA, WE NEED TO TALK SERIOUSLY. COME.”
A pang stirred in her soul. But, damn it, she must put an end to this. She went.
Sergey met her at the door. His cheeks were pale, dark circles under his eyes. Probably didn’t sleep or pretended so.
“Come in. Mom is waiting.”
“Yeah, I got it,” Olga said coldly.
Lidiya Petrovna sat in the kitchen, rigid like a monument to a collective farm founder. Valeriy Ivanovich fiddled with a newspaper, pretending not to be there.
“Olga,” the mother-in-law folded her hands on the table, “we need a serious conversation.”
“Oh, I’m all ears,” Olga smirked.
“I’ll be direct. Your behavior is inappropriate. You ran away. Left your husband. Don’t want to help family. Do you realize you’re ruining your life?”
“Yeah. But you know what? It’s my life. I decide whether to ruin it or not.”
Sergey shifted uncomfortably.
“Olya, why are you starting again?”
“Starting what? Telling the truth? Or defending my right to live outside your scripts?”
Lidiya Petrovna clutched her fingers.
“Such a shame. So… If you’re not willing to take a loan and help the family, then… please return everything you got from our family. Return the ring. The gifts. By the way, Valera and I bought the TV together. The car you bought with Sergey — it’s shared. Half is ours.”
“What half?” Olga asked slowly, feeling a hot wave rising at the nape of her neck.
“Ours, Olechka,” Lidiya Petrovna said seriously. “Because you don’t live alone here. You’re family. So everything is shared.”
Sergey mumbled:
“Mom, come on… you’re overdoing it…”
“Not overdoing. It’s time for the girl to understand responsibility isn’t just earning. It’s sharing.”
Olga stood up.
“Got it. Okay.” She went to the side table, took off the wedding ring, and placed it carefully on the table. “The TV? Take it. The car? We’ll split it. Gifts? God, take even the sofa.”
Lidiya Petrovna squinted.
“Great. When you’re left with nothing, maybe you’ll understand family is sacred.”
Olga inhaled deeply, looked at Sergey, and he lowered his eyes. No words. Not one.
At that moment, Olga understood everything. That was it. The end.
“Sergey,” her voice trembled but was icy, “tomorrow I’m filing for divorce. I can’t do this anymore. And I don’t want to. Live as you can.”
She turned, grabbed her jacket.
“And the loan…” — she added as she left — “you can handle it yourselves. You’re family after all.”
At the entrance, Sergey caught up.
“Olya, wait. Please.”
She turned.
“What?”
“Are you really going through with this… to the end?”
“What did you expect? That I’d stay at a friend’s, cool off, forgive everything, and go back as if nothing happened?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Sorry. But I no longer want to sponsor this circus. Frankly, I don’t want to.”
Sergey hesitated, kicked a pebble.
“You know… you can’t manage alone.”
“Wrong. I will manage alone. But never beside you.”
She turned and walked away, never looking back.
The phone kept vibrating all evening. Messages from Lidiya Petrovna:
- “Don’t you dare file for divorce, you’ll regret it!”
- “We’ll make sure you won’t get a penny!”
- “You’ll be begging soon!”
- “By the way, where will you live?”
Natasha, observing this, just chuckled:
“Olga, dear, this is just the beginning. The real fun starts now.”
Indeed, the next morning came a call from the bank. A young woman politely said:
“Olga Sergeevna, a loan application was submitted in your name. Do you confirm this?”
Olga sat down.
“Excuse me, WHAT?!”
“Yes, it was submitted remotely. We need to confirm if it was you.”
Olga felt the hairs rise on her neck.
“No. It wasn’t me.”
The world was collapsing. Fear, anger, despair — all mixed into a knot. But one thing was clear — there was no turning back.
The morning started with hysteria. Olga sat in the kitchen with the phone, calling the bank for the fifth time.
“Yes, let me repeat,” her voice trembled but stayed steady, “I did NOT apply for this loan! Please check who and how submitted it.”
“We understand, Olga Sergeevna,” the operator replied in a monotone. “We will send a request to security. The response will take up to ten business days.”
“Ten?!” Olga jumped. “Are you serious? In ten days someone can buy a house in my name and mortgage it!”
“We understand your concern,” the voice remained politely deadpan. “A specialist will contact you.”
She threw the phone on the table.
“Well,” Natasha sighed, handing her coffee. “It’s a full-scale war now. You know that, right?”
“Oh yes,” Olga covered her face with her hands. “And I think I even know who submitted the application. And from which computer.”
“So, what will you do?”
“Go to the police. I’m filing a fraud report.”
Natasha nodded:
“Right. And get a lawyer. Not just any, but a fierce one. Preferably one the devil himself would fear.”
A couple hours later, they sat in a stifling police captain’s office with peeling walls and a worn green couch.
“Alright,” the captain began, scratching his bald head. “So, the loan application without your knowledge… Who could it be?”
Olga crooked a smile.
“Mother-in-law. Almost ex.”
“Uh-huh…” the captain lazily noted. “And how? Passwords, access?”
“Oh, easy. Sergey and I… well, not divorced yet… used the same laptop. It was always at home. Email, bank account saved. Everything.”
“I see…” The captain clicked a pen. “We’ll take your statement and send inquiries. But this case may take time, and no guarantees. Family matters complicate things… They might claim you agreed and now are changing your mind.”
“No,” Olga’s voice chilled. “This time I won’t let it go. I’ll shout on national TV if needed. I’ll march with a banner in Red Square.”
The captain smiled.
“You’re a fighter, citizen.”
“Already learned,” Olga replied.
But as it turned out, Lidiya Petrovna did not intend to give up either. That evening, she called again.
On autopilot, Olga picked up without thinking why.
“Listen, Olga!” The voice was sharp, metallic, with victorious sarcasm. “You went to war for nothing. Think we don’t know? That while you were with Sergey, you transferred money to your mother? Think he didn’t tell us?”
“So what?” Olga rolled her eyes. “My mother’s a pensioner, whom you didn’t even let into your home. Yes, I helped her. And?”
“That’s joint property! You spent family money without your husband’s consent! Now return it!”
“God…” Olga pressed her palm to her forehead. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely!” Lidiya Petrovna screamed. “And we’ll demand half your savings! And the car! Then we’ll see how you sing when you end up on the street!”
Olga hung up. Her hands trembled. But somewhere deep inside, she suddenly found it genuinely funny.
“You’re insane,” she said aloud. “Absolutely insane and collectible crazy.”
The next day Sergey called. His voice was unfamiliar: sharp, nervous.
“Listen, Olya… Why did you go to the police? What are you doing?”
“Applying for a loan without my permission is a crime. Not the time for sentiment.”
“You realize you’re ruining our lives? Parents and me are ashamed! Did you think about neighbors? Colleagues?”
“They will know the truth,” Olga answered calmly. “That a woman refused to be a cash cow.”
“God, Olya, no one squeezed you! You were always ungrateful, never satisfied!”
“Oh, that stung,” she said lightly. “Goodbye, Sergey. Good luck. Especially your mother in finding a new sponsor.”
And she hung up.
A week later, the divorce proceeded quickly, monotonously, without extra feelings. Olga signed the papers, putting a heavy full stop.
They sold the car, split the money. Sergey kept the TV. She didn’t even try to take back the ring.
That same evening she went to a notary office and opened a deposit in her name. For the future.
“Now,” Natasha said as they drank wine that night, “you’re officially a free woman. How does it feel?”
Olga looked out the window. Outside — a city with evening lights, cars, people. Life.
“You know,” she slowly smiled, “calm. And light. As if I can finally breathe.”
“See,” Natasha toasted her, “I told you, you’d manage.”
A month later, Olga received a letter. The envelope and handwriting were heartbreakingly familiar — neat, swirly—a note from Lidiya Petrovna:
“Olga! We’ve thought it through. We realize we went too far. But family is sacred. You’ll always be family to us. And Sergey… he misses you. Let’s start over. We forgive you.”
Olga stared at it for a long while. Then calmly tore it into pieces and tossed it into the trash.
“No, Lidiya Petrovna,” she said aloud, “never again.”
And she put the kettle on.
In summary, Olga’s ordeal highlights the struggle of balancing personal boundaries and familial obligations. She faced manipulation and control masked as family support but ultimately chose self-respect and independence. This story serves as a powerful reminder that true family support respects individual autonomy and that financial or emotional coercion has no place in genuine relationships.