Here is the English version, keeping the story around **800–900 words** and making the dialogue more natural and dramatic.
— You’re wasting my son’s money on nonsense! It’s time you explained yourself!
The words landed over the festive dinner table like a slap.
Everyone fell silent.
A huge seventy-five-inch television covered most of the living-room wall. A football match was playing with the sound turned down, its green field casting a strange glow over the faces of the guests.
Uncle Fedya was still eating his salad, although his fork had slowed considerably. Aunt Alla carefully dabbed her lips with a napkin and suddenly became very interested in her plate.
The room smelled of roasted meat, spices, and the expensive perfume of Elvira Leonidovna, Rita’s mother-in-law.
— Now that is a television! — Maxim said proudly, patting the table. — Seventy-five inches. Latest-generation picture quality. I spent a whole month choosing it. Finally, the family can watch movies properly.
He proudly adjusted the brand-new smartwatch on his wrist.
— That’s my boy! — Elvira Leonidovna beamed. — Always thinking about his family. Everything for the home, everything for his loved ones. A real man.
Then she deliberately glanced toward the kitchen, where Rita was bringing out another tray of food.
— Unlike some people.
Rita pretended not to hear.
She placed the hot potatoes on the table and sat down.
— Here you go, Uncle Fedya. Still warm.
— Thank you, sweetheart. — He smiled. — And the television really is impressive. Must have cost a fortune.
Maxim waved dismissively.
— You have to spend money on yourself sometimes. I bought it for us, after all.
Elvira Leonidovna immediately seized the opportunity.
— Exactly! That’s what I’m talking about. My son works from morning until night, destroys his health, and you’re busy spending his money!
Rita slowly put down her fork.
— Elvira Leonidovna, please. Not in front of the guests.
— Why not? Let everyone hear! My Maxim works like a machine. He’s exhausted, he has dark circles under his eyes from all those overtime hours, and you’re living comfortably!
Maxim kept scrolling through his phone.
— Mom, enough. You two can discuss it later.
He didn’t even look up.
Rita noticed.
He wasn’t going to defend her.
— No! — his mother snapped. — I’m not staying quiet!
She pointed her fork toward Rita.
— I saw those new boots of yours in the hallway. Genuine leather, expensive soles. Do you have any idea what those cost? Almost half an ordinary person’s salary!
— I bought them with my own money, — Rita replied calmly.
— Your own money? — Elvira Leonidovna scoffed. — What money? You sit at home in pajamas in front of a laptop and press buttons all day. You barely make anything. Who pays the mortgage? My son! Who pays the utilities? My son!
Aunt Alla shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
— Elvira, leave the young people alone. They’ll sort out their finances themselves.
— Don’t interfere, Alla! I’m his mother! I have every right to know where my son’s money is going!
Rita remained silent.
Then Elvira Leonidovna leaned forward.
— You spend my son’s money on nonsense. So explain yourself! Every single penny! Where does his salary go?
Rita slowly turned toward her husband.
— Maxim, don’t you want to tell your mother something?
He shifted in his chair.
— Rita, don’t start. Mom’s had some wine. Why make this worse? Sit down and eat.
Something changed in Rita’s expression.
— Fine.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
Maxim immediately looked up.
— What are you doing?
— Giving her the report she asked for.
She tapped the screen several times.
The television suddenly went black.
The football match disappeared.
A moment later, Rita’s phone screen appeared on the enormous seventy-five-inch television.
— What kind of trick is this? — Elvira Leonidovna asked suspiciously.
— You wanted to see where the money goes. So let’s look.
Rita opened her banking application and pulled up the transaction history.
The numbers were enormous on the television.
— Let’s start with the mortgage.
She pointed at the screen.
— Payment on the twenty-fifth of every month. Almost fifty thousand.
— And? — her mother-in-law demanded.
— It comes from my account.
Elvira Leonidovna blinked.
— But Maxim transfers the money to you!
— Does he?
Rita typed her husband’s name into the search bar.
Three transfers appeared from the previous month.
One said: “For bread.”
Another: “Internet.”
The third: “Add money for the cat food.”
Silence filled the room.
Elvira Leonidovna stared at the screen.
Then she slowly turned toward her son.
— Maxim?
He suddenly became very interested in his plate.
— Mom, it’s complicated.
— Then explain it!
— Things have been difficult at work. My bonuses were reduced…
— Two years ago, — Rita interrupted.
Maxim looked up.
— What?
— Two years ago. That’s how long you haven’t contributed a single penny toward the mortgage.
She continued scrolling.
— Mortgage: my money. Utilities: my money. Groceries: my money. Household expenses: my money.
Aunt Alla stared at the television in disbelief.
— Then what does Maxim spend his salary on?
Rita looked at her husband.
— Maybe he should tell you.
Maxim said nothing.
— I can help, — Rita continued. — New rims for his car. The smartwatch. An expensive fish finder for his fishing trips. Friday nights drinking with his friends. And this television.
Uncle Fedya slowly put down his fork.
— But Maxim told us he bought the television himself.
— On installments, — Rita said. — The payments come from my account.
Maxim’s face turned red.
Elvira Leonidovna stared at him as if she were seeing her son for the first time.
— Maxim… are you really living off your wife?
— No!
He jumped to his feet.
— We’re a family! We have a shared budget!
Rita looked at him quietly.
— A shared budget means both people contribute.
Maxim opened his mouth but couldn’t find an answer.
— When one person pays for the home, food, bills, and even the other person’s hobbies while the other spends his salary on himself, that isn’t a shared budget.
She paused.
— That’s being supported.
Elvira Leonidovna slowly stood up.
For the first time that evening, she didn’t look at Rita.
She didn’t look at her son either.
She simply picked up her handbag.
— I’m going home.
A few minutes later, the other guests began leaving too.
Two weeks later, Maxim moved in with his mother.
He took his clothes, his smartwatch, his fishing equipment, and everything else he believed belonged to him.
Rita didn’t scream.
She didn’t beg.
She didn’t demand an apology.
She simply changed the locks.
That evening, she sat alone in the living room and turned on the enormous television.
A movie began playing.
The apartment was quiet.
For the first time in years, Rita realized that the silence didn’t feel empty.
It felt like freedom.
The television really was wonderful.
Especially when you could finally sit in front of it peacefully — without anyone telling you how to spend your own money.
