Connect with us

З життя

What Do You Mean We’re Getting a Divorce? The Husband Asked in Shock. Over the Money You Gave to Your Mother?

Published

on

“What do you mean, were finished?” the man asked his wife, bewildered. “Because I gave money to my mother?”

“Nineteen thousand pounds!” Inessa flung the bank statement onto the table, watching the white sheets scatter across the surface. “Rodney, wheres the money?!”

Her husband didnt even bother to look up from the television, still flipping through channels.

“What money?” he muttered indifferently.

“The money we spent three years saving for the deposit! Yesterday there were twenty-five thousand, today theres thirty-five hundred!”

Rodney finally glanced up, shrugging as if it were nothing.

“Oh, that Mum and Joanna needed help. Was I supposed to say no?”

“Did you even ask me?! That was our shared savings!”

“Stop making a fuss. Ill pay it back.”

“When? In how many years?” Inessa braced her hands on the table, leaning toward him. “Rodney, we agreedno spending from that account without discussing it first. None!”

“We agreed, we agreed But when your own mother asks, what am I supposed to do, refuse her?”

“And when your wife works twelve hours a day for three years, thats nothing? Thats MY money!”

Rodney scowled and turned back to the screen.

“Stop exaggerating. Its just a job.”

Six months earlier, Inessa had been at her desk in the travel agency, meticulously calculating commission from her latest holiday package sale. The numbers pleased herthe group had been large and well-paying.

Her colleague, Tamara, peered over the monitor.

“Still tapping away at that calculator? Still saving for your dream flat?”

“Another year, maybe eighteen months, and well have our own place,” Inessa smiled, setting her pen down. “Rodneys doing his part too, taking extra shifts at the garage on weekends.”

“Youre lucky with him. Mine just makes promises that never happen.”

“I suppose I am,” Inessa agreed, though something uneasy nagged at her.

Tamara pulled her chair closer.

“How much have you saved, if its not a secret?”

“Twenty-one thousand. Not far from the twenty-five thousand we need.”

“Brilliant! Where are you keeping it?”

“In a savings account, of course. The interest isnt much, but its something.”

“Smart. Just dont go spending it on nonsense.”

Inessa nodded but didnt mention how Rodney had lately been complaining of exhaustion and taking fewer extra jobs.

That same evening, she found him sprawled on the sofa in front of the telly, some action film flashing across the screen.

“Rod, werent you supposed to go to the garage today?” she asked, slipping off her shoes in the hallway.

“Ill go tomorrow. My backs playing up.”

“Maybe see a doctor?”

“Stop fussing. Itll pass.” Rodney changed the channel. “Mum called, by the way. Joanna needs money for her makeup course.”

Inessa froze, her bag still in hand.

“How much?”

“Fifteen hundred, tops. Barely anything.”

“Barely anything?! Rodney, thats my monthly bonus!”

“Dont shout. Im not taking it from the savings. Ill cover it from next months wages.”

“And if your wages arent enough?”

“They will be. Stop worrying.”

Inessa went to heat dinner, but her appetite was gone. Her mind churned with the times Rodneys family had made similar requests.

Two weeks later, it happened again with crushing predictability. Claudia Petrovna, Rodneys mother, called during supper.

“Hello, Mum?” Rodney put the phone on speaker, still eating. “Yeah, go on Leaking? Badly? Seven-fifty? Fine, Ill drop it off tomorrow.”

Inessa slowly set down her fork and stared at him.

“Rodney, we agreedmortgage first, everything else after.”

“What, youd rather let the neighbours complain about Mums leaky radiator? Heartless!”

“Im not heartless,” Inessa said, forcing calm. “But your brother Paul lives next door. Why cant he help?”

“Pauls unemployed, you know that.”

“How? Everywheres hiring!”

Rodney finally looked up from his plate.

“Dont start. Shes my mother. Ill help her, full stop.”

“And Im your wife,” Inessa said quietly. “Does that mean anything?”

“Of course it does. But Mums radiator”

“What about our future?”

“The futurell still happen. We wont starve over seven hundred quid.”

A month later, Inessas boss, Leonard Markovich, called her into his office. He sat behind his heavy desk, sorting through papers.

“Inessa, take a seat. You handled that Chinese tour group brilliantly. The bonus will be substantialtwenty-five hundred.”

“Thank you,” she said, genuinely pleased.

“But Ive noticed a patternyoure taking every overtime shift, working weekends. Are you burning out?”

“No, Im fine. Rodney and I are saving for a flat. Every penny counts.”

“Admirable, but healths worth more than any property.”

Inessa nodded but privately thought that without her extra shifts, theyd never save enoughRodney kept “lending” money to his family.

“Leonard, any extra tasks going? Maybe someone wants holiday cover?”

He studied her.

“There is, but youre stretched thin already.”

“Ill manage.”

At home, she found Rodney with his mate Victor. They were at the kitchen table with beers, laughing loudly at some joke.

“Oh, Inessas back!” Victor raised his bottle in greeting. “Join us!”

“Thanks, Im tired,” she said, heading to the fridge for water.

“Rodney was just telling me about your flat savings. Proper dedicated, you two! I never get round to it.”

“Thats because you keep dumping cash into crypto,” Rodney chuckled. “Hoping to strike it rich overnight.”

“Long-term investment! In a year or two, Ill be loaded!”

“Yeah, right. How many times have you struck it rich already?”

Inessa left for the bedroom, unable to stomach their talk of easy money. An hour later, Victor finally left, and Rodney came in.

“Whats the face for?”

“I worked twelve hours today, Rodney. Youre drinking with a mate.”

“Sorry my friend dropped by. Not allowed to relax now?”

“You can. Id just prefer if you relaxed after work, not instead of it.”

“Here we go again.”

“When was the last time you went to the garage?”

Rodney turned to the window.

“Last week.”

“Last week you were hungover after Pauls birthday.”

“Listen, stop monitoring me! Dont like it? Get divorced!”

A week later, Joanna, Rodneys sister, turned up unannounced. Inessa was cooking when she barged in.

“Hi, sis-in-law! Rod home?”

“On the sofa,” Inessa said flatly, not turning from the stove.

“Rod!” Joanna flopped beside him. “I need money, urgent!”

“Again? Jo, I gave you cash for those courses last week.”

“Different thing! Theres a massive discount on pro makeup kits! Cant miss this chance!”

“How much?” Rodney sighed.

“Just twenty-five hundred! Its an investment!”

“Twenty-five hundred?!” Inessa burst out. “Joanna, thats insane!”

“Nobody asked you!” Joanna snapped. “Rod, please! Ill get clients and pay you back with interest!”

“Jo, were strapped right now”

“Youre always strapped! Saving like misers while family suffers!”

“Were not misers,” Inessa tried. “Weve scrimped for three years.”

“Spare me! You both earn well but wont share!”

After she left, silence settled heavily. Rodney went to smoke on the balcony while Inessa returned to dinner.

An hour later, Claudia Petrovna called.

“Rodney, how could you refuse your own sister? Shes trying to better herself!”

“Mum, were really tight right now.”

“Tight? For family? Inessas turning you against us!”

“Mum, its not”

“Married that girl and now she bosses you! Forgotten who raised you?”

From the kitchen, Inessa listened. Shed poured her soul into those savings, worked herself raggedonly to be painted as a greedy villain.

The next morning, she ran into Edward, their neighbour, in the stairwell. Fresh from a jog, his athletic frame evident even in middle age.

“Morning, Inessa! Hows things?” he greeted warmly, checking his post.

“Fine, thanks,” she said, adjusting her bag.

“Heard youre saving for a flat. Smartprices keep climbing. Took me ages to upsize.”

“Yes, were trying. Three years of every

Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Ваша e-mail адреса не оприлюднюватиметься. Обов’язкові поля позначені *

два + 12 =

Також цікаво:

З життя6 години ago

A Parent’s Love: Family Gatherings, Christmas Surprises, and a Lesson in Protectiveness on a Winter’s Day

Parental Love Mum always said, Children are the flowers of life, shed laugh, and Dad would grin and add, Flowers...

З життя6 години ago

Igor Never Returned From His Holiday: When Your Husband Disappears by the Seaside, a Wife’s Search, Tense Family Reunion, and the Painful Truth That Comes Home

Since his holiday, Stanley never came back Hasnt your husband written or called yet? Not a word, Vera, not after...

З життя7 години ago

“Oh, You Drive Me Mad!… I Eat Wrong, I Dress Wrong, I Do Everything Wrong!”—Pavel’s Voice Broke Into a Shout. “You Can’t Do Anything Right!… Can’t Even Earn a Decent Living… And You’re No Help Around the House, Ever!”—Marina Sobbed, “…And There Are No Children…” She Whispered. Belka, the Ten-Year-Old Ginger-and-White Cat, Watched Silently from Atop the Cupboard as Another Family “Tragedy” Unfolded. She Knew, Even Felt, That Mum and Dad Loved Each Other Dearly—So Why Say Such Hurtful Things? Mum Ran Off Crying, Dad Chain-Smoked by the Window, and Belka Thought to Herself: “What This Home Needs Is Happiness, And Happiness Means Kids… Somehow, We Need to Find Children…” Belka Herself Couldn’t Have Kittens—She’d Been Neutered Long Ago. As for Mum, The Doctors Said It Was Possible, But Something Never Quite Worked Out… The Next Morning, After Mum and Dad Left for Work, Belka Squeezed Out the Window and Went to See Her Neighbour, Whiskers, for Advice. “Why On Earth Would You Want Kids?” Sniffed Whiskers. “Ours Always Come Over—Hide From Them If You Can! They Smear My Muzzle With Lipstick Or Squeeze Me ‘Til I Can’t Breathe!” Belka Sighed, “We Need Proper Children… But Where On Earth Do We Get Them?” “Well… That Stray Molly on the Street Just Had Five… Take Your Pick…” Whiskers Shrugged. On Her Own Daring, Belka Tiptoed Balcony to Balcony Down to the Street, Squeezed Through The Bars of a Basement Window, and Called Out, “Molly, Could You Come Here for Just a Moment?” From Deep Within the Cellar Came the Desperate Squeaking of Kittens. Belka Cautiously Approached. Underneath the Heater, Five Blind, Mismatched Kittens Searched The Air, Wailing Hungrily. Molly Hadn’t Been There for At Least Three Days. The Babies Were Starving… Feeling She Might Cry, Belka Carefully Carried Each Kitten to the Entrance of Her Building. Lying Beside the Screeching, Hungry Bunch, She Waited Anxiously for Mum and Dad to Come Home. When Pavel and Marina Returned from Work, They Were Astonished—There Was Belka, Never Before Out Alone, Being Nursed by Five Noisy Kittens. “How on Earth Did This Happen?” Pavel Stammered. “It’s a Miracle…” Whispered Marina. They Scooped Up Belka and the Kittens and Rushed Inside. As Pavel Watched Their Purring Cat in a Box Full of Babies, He Asked, “So… What Are We Going To Do With Them?” “I’ll Hand-Feed Them… When They’re Grown, We’ll Find Them Homes… I’ll Call My Friends,” Whispered Marina. Three Months Later, Still Stunned By The Miracle, Marina Sat Stroking Her Feline Clan, Repeating to Herself, “This Can’t Be Real… This Can’t Happen…” And Soon After, She and Pavel Wept for Joy, Laughing and Embracing, “I’m So Glad We Finished Building This House!” “Yes! Perfect for a Child to Play Outside!” “And the Kittens Can All Run Around!” “There’s Room for Everyone!” “I Love You!” “Oh, I Love You Even More!” Wise Old Belka Wiped Away a Tear—Life Was Finally Coming Together…

Im so fed up with you! Nothing I do is right for you! The way I eat, what I wearits...

З життя7 години ago

Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans

– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...

З життя8 години ago

Mother-in-Law Anna Peters was sitting in her kitchen, watching the milk quietly simmering on the stove. She had forgotten to stir it three times already, each time remembering too late: the milk would froth, spill over, and she would clean the stove irritably with a cloth. In those moments she felt it keenly: it wasn’t really about the milk. Ever since her second grandchild was born, everything in the family seemed to derail. Her daughter grew tired, thinner, and quieter. Her son-in-law came home late, ate in silence, sometimes heading straight to the bedroom. Anna saw this and thought: how can you just leave a woman to cope alone? She spoke up. At first gently, then more sharply. First to her daughter, then to her son-in-law. And then she noticed something strange: after she spoke, the house didn’t feel lighter, but heavier. Her daughter defended her husband, he grew gloomier, and Anna returned home with a sinking feeling that once again, she hadn’t done things right. That day she went to see their vicar, not for advice, but because there was nowhere else to go with this feeling. “I suppose I’m just not a good person,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I always do things wrong.” The vicar was sitting at his desk, writing. He set his pen aside. “Why do you think that?” Anna shrugged. “I tried to help. Instead, I only seem to make everyone angry.” He looked at her attentively, but without judgment. “You’re not a bad person. You’re just exhausted. And very anxious.” She sighed. That rang true. “I’m so worried for my daughter,” she said. “She’s so different since the baby. And him…” She waved a hand. “It’s like he doesn’t even notice.” “Do you notice what he does?” the vicar asked. Anna thought for a moment. She remembered how, last week, he washed the dishes late at night when he thought no one saw. How on Sunday he took the pram out for a walk, even though he looked as if he’d rather collapse into bed. “He does help… I suppose,” she replied doubtfully. “But not the way he should.” “And what way is that?” the vicar asked gently. Anna wanted to reply at once, but realised she didn’t know. She could only think: more, better, more attentively. But what, exactly, was hard to explain. “I just want things to be easier for her,” she said. “Then say that,” the vicar replied quietly. “Not to him, but to yourself.” She looked at him. “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re not fighting for your daughter — you’re fighting her husband. And fighting means being tense. That exhausts everyone: you, and them.” Anna was silent for a long while. Then she asked, “So what should I do? Pretend everything’s fine?” “No,” he replied. “Just do what helps. Not words, but actions. And not against someone, but for someone.” On her way home, she thought over his words. Remembered how, when her daughter was a little girl, she would just sit beside her quietly if she cried — never lecturing. Why was it different now? The next day, she arrived unannounced. She brought soup. Her daughter was surprised; her son-in-law embarrassed. “I won’t stay long,” Anna said. “Just wanted to help.” She watched the children while her daughter slept. Left quietly, without a word about how hard things were, or what they ought to do. The next week, she came again. And again, the week after. She still noticed that her son-in-law was far from perfect. But she began to see other things: the way he gently picked up the baby, how at night he tucked a blanket around her daughter when he thought no one was looking. One day, in the kitchen, she couldn’t help herself and asked him, “Is it hard for you right now?” He looked startled, as if no one had ever asked before. “It’s hard,” he answered, after a pause. “Very.” And nothing more. But something sharp in the air between them was gone. Anna realised she’d been waiting for him to change. But it needed to start with her. She stopped discussing him with her daughter. When her daughter complained, she didn’t say “I told you so.” She just listened. Sometimes she took the children to give her daughter a break. Sometimes she called her son-in-law to ask how things were. It wasn’t easy. It was much easier to stay angry. But gradually, the house grew quieter. Not better, not perfect — just quieter. Free of endless tension. One day her daughter said, “Mum, thank you for being with us now, not against us.” Anna thought about those words for a long time. She understood something simple: reconciliation doesn’t come from someone admitting they’re wrong. It comes when someone is willing to stop fighting first. She still wanted her son-in-law to be more attentive. That wish hadn’t gone away. But alongside it lived something more important: for her family to have peace. And every time the old feeling — frustration, resentment, the urge to criticise — rose up, she asked herself: Do I want to be right, or do I want to make things easier for them? Almost always, the answer showed her what to do next.

Mother-in-Law Margaret Williams sat in the kitchen, her eyes resting on the saucepan of milk gently simmering on the hob....

З життя8 години ago

Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans

– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...

З життя9 години ago

“My Grandchildren Only See Fresh Fruit Once a Month, But She Buys Expensive Food for Her Cats!”: My Daughter-in-Law Accuses Me of Being Cold-Hearted for Putting My Pets First, but I Won’t Let Her Guilt Me into Supporting Their Growing Family

My grandchildren only see fresh fruit once a month, yet she spends a fortune on fancy cat food, my daughter-in-law...

З життя9 години ago

Oxana, Are You Busy? – A Festive New Year’s Eve Tale of Family, Holiday Hustle, a Mishap in the Snow, and an Unexpected Encounter with a Doctor That Changed Everything

Annie, are you busy? her mum calls, poking her head through the door to her daughters room. Just a second,...