Vitalya stared at the carpet in silence. Ice solidified inside Ksenia. The marriage was over—not because of his mother or the loan, but because of his cowardice.
Back home
Taxi silence. City lights streaked by; Ksenia’s decision crystallized.
Next morning, after Vitalya left, she phoned a lawyer. In under an hour she learned everything about divorce and asset division.
“The loan’s solely in his name?”
“Yes—he signed alone.”
“Good. If you prove the money was a gift to a third party without your consent, the debt stays his.”
She moved her savings, copied documents, photographed valuables. Vitalya, drowning in loan payments, noticed nothing.
Three weeks later she served dinner, wine—then:
“I’m filing for divorce.”
He leapt up. “You’re serious?”
“Very. For three years your mother belittled me and you never once defended me. You chose her whims over my dignity. You took a loan knowing I refused. Enough.”
“You can’t just leave! What about the apartment? The loan?”
“The apartment’s mine—my aunt left it to me before we married. The loan is yours; you took it for your mother.”
He paled. “You planned all this?”
“Yes. The papers are ready. You have a week to move out.”
“A week? Where will I live? How will I pay?”
“Ask your mother. She’s got a luxurious new sofa—you can sleep on it.”
A month later
The divorce was final. The court pinned the entire loan on Vitalya. Ksenia kept the apartment and her savings.
Vitalya moved in with his mother. Her delight faded once she realized her son was strapped for cash. And the glamorous sofa—a designer nightmare—was torture to sleep on. Each restless night he pondered the high price of pleasing Mom.
Ksenia, free of toxic ties, felt peace for the first time in years. She could run her life and finances without guilt.
“If you want gifts for your mother, buy them yourself—she’s never said a kind word to me.” That sentence became the motto of her new life—one with no forced compromises and no silent tolerance of other people’s insults.
