May leaned back in her office chair and stretched, easing the stiffness from her neck. The screen in front of her showed 8:30 p.m. Her colleagues had long since gone home, and the open-plan office had fallen silent. She saved the report, closed her programs, gathered her things, and headed out. Working as a senior analyst at a large IT company demanded complete focus, but it paid accordingly: 280,000 rubles a month, plus quarterly bonuses.
Aleksey met his wife by the apartment entrance with a bag of hot takeout from a café.
“You’re late again,” he said, kissing May on the temple. “I bought your favorite pasta.”
“Thank you,” May said with a grateful smile. “How was your day?”
“Usual,” Aleksey replied with a shrug. “Meetings, calls, reports. My manager isn’t happy with the numbers again.”
Aleksey worked as a sales manager for a small trading company. His salary barely reached 100,000 rubles, with no bonuses or extras. Their incomes differed by nearly three times, but May tried not to make a point of it. Her husband didn’t resent her success, didn’t feel awkward, and supported her in everything.
The first months after the wedding were calm and steady. The newlyweds settled into a rented apartment, planned their future together, and dreamed of buying a place of their own. May put money aside every month, saving for a mortgage down payment.
Everything changed when the calls from her mother-in-law began.
Regina Nikolaevna called late in the evening, when May had already come home tired from work. Her voice sounded worried and plaintive.
“Alyoshenka, son, we’ve run into some trouble. Utilities went up, and we’re short on money. Can you help?”
Aleksey listened, frowned, and nodded.
“Of course, Mom. Don’t worry. We’ll send something.”
May sat nearby and heard half the conversation. When her husband hung up, she asked, “What happened?”
“My parents need help,” Aleksey said, scratching the back of his head. “Konstantin Vladimirovich lost part of his side job, so things are tight. Can we send twenty thousand?”
May agreed, though something inside her tightened. Her in-laws lived in their own two-bedroom apartment and both received pensions, small as they were. Konstantin occasionally took minor repair jobs for acquaintances. Twenty thousand wasn’t a catastrophic amount, but it felt uncomfortable.
A week later, Regina Nikolaevna called again. Then again. And again. Every two weeks there was a new problem: a broken refrigerator, rent due, shoes needed, medicine more expensive than expected. Each time Aleksey asked May to help, calling it temporary difficulty.
May sent twenty to thirty thousand rubles a month. Her savings for housing slowly thinned out. After six months of marriage, she realized she had given Aleksey’s parents 180,000 rubles. And the complaints still didn’t stop.
Regina Nikolaevna and Konstantin Vladimirovich grew used to regular support. The mother-in-law even began planning purchases in advance, knowing the money would arrive. May felt as though she was supporting not just her own household, but her husband’s parents too.
One evening, she finally said carefully:
“Aleksey, maybe your parents should find some extra income? Konstantin Vladimirovich could work as a porter or security guard.”
“He’s not young anymore,” Aleksey objected. “He’s sixty-two. What kind of job is that?”
“Something light, then. Or your mom could take on a little work.”
“Mom is sick,” he said, frowning. “You know that.”
May fell silent. The conversation went nowhere, and she decided not to raise the subject again.
Three years passed. May kept sending money to her husband’s parents without protest. Aleksey treated her help as something natural, thanking her rarely and never looking for another solution. Then one morning, sitting at the kitchen table with her coffee, May opened her banking app and started adding up the transfers from the last three years.
The final number shocked her: 1,120,000 rubles.
That was more than a million. Enough for a used car. Enough for a mortgage down payment. Enough for several vacations abroad.
Aleksey walked into the kitchen while she stared at the screen.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I calculated how much I gave your parents in three years,” May said quietly. “Over a million.”
“So what?” he answered with a shrug. “We help family. That’s normal.”
“Normal?” May looked at him. “I work from morning till night, save for a home, and half of it goes to your parents.”
“Half is an exaggeration,” Aleksey said. “You earn well. We have enough.”
“We have enough because I earn,” she replied. “What if I earned what you do?”
He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything? May, don’t start.”
She said nothing more. But the silence between them had already begun to change everything.
Summary: May wanted to help family, but over time the requests became a burden she could no longer ignore. When trust is stretched too far, even the closest relationships can begin to crack.