The phone rang at half-past two in the night. Matvey, having just dozed off after an exhausting shift at the clinic, mechanically reached for the nightstand. The screen displayed “Mom.” — Matvey… son…— Aglaya Dmitrievna’s voice sounded unusually bewildered. — Sorry for the late call. I just… can’t sleep. You remember the day after tomorrow, don’t you?
Matvey glanced at his wife sleeping next to him. Lena had been working double shifts in preparation for maternity leave, and every minute of sleep was precious to her. — Mom, it’s three in the morning. Of course, I remember. I promised—I’ll return all three million in two days.
— And if… if you don’t make it?- panic crept into her mother’s voice. — The bank… they said they would start the foreclosure process. — Wait, what bank? You said the money was needed for Kostya’s surgery.
A heavy silence fell on the line.
— I need to talk to you. Urgently. But not over the phone.
— Mom, what’s happening?
— Come in the morning. Please. And… forgive me.
The dial tone. Matvey stared at the darkened screen. Over the past week, this was already the twelfth call from his mother reminding him of the debt. But something was different this time.
He quietly got out of bed and went to the kitchen. He clicked the kettle on, pulled out an old pack of cigarettes—a habit he had quit a year ago when he learned of his wife’s pregnancy.
Drawing from a cigarette at the open window, Matvey tried to gather his thoughts. Three million was a huge amount for their family. They and Lena had been saving for a down payment on a mortgage when his mother asked for help.
— Kostya needs urgent surgery,— she had said then. Of course, they couldn’t refuse…
Suddenly, the phone vibrated. A message from his brother:
— Can’t sleep? We need to talk. Urgently. It’s about mom.
Matvey felt a chill inside. Something was definitely wrong.
— Honey? What happened?— Lena’s sleepy voice made him jump. His wife stood in the kitchen doorway, wrapped in a warm robe.
— Mom called,— Matvey stubbed out the cigarette. — It seems we have serious problems…
The morning turned out to be cloudy. Matvey parked the car near his mother’s house and saw that his brother’s car was already there. Kostya was smoking, nervously tapping his foot on the asphalt.
— Been waiting long? — Matvey approached his brother.
— Half an hour. Mom isn’t answering, her phone’s off,— Kostya extinguished his cigarette. — I’m worried.
They went up to the third floor. The door opened after the first ring—Aunt Galya, their mother’s younger sister, stood in the doorway.
— Finally,— she ushered her nephews into the apartment. — Come to the kitchen. We all need to have a serious talk.
In the kitchen, they saw their mother—pale, emaciated, with trembling hands. A stack of some papers lay in front of her.
— Mom, what’s happening? — Matvey sat opposite. — What’s the urgency?
— I must confess to you,— Aglaya Dmitrievna’s voice sounded broken. — I… I lied to you. There was no surgery, Kostya.
— What? — the brothers exchanged glances.
— Remember when dad died? — Aunt Galya placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder. — Tell them, Aglaya. They need to know.
Their mother pulled bank statements from the folder.
— After father’s death, I discovered we were in huge debt. Loans, borrowings… He couldn’t manage the bank branch, tried to cover losses with new loans. I didn’t tell anyone—I was afraid to disgrace his memory.
She took a breath.
— And then my boss, Viktor Stepanovich, offered help. Talked about some investments, cryptocurrency… Promised that he would triple the invested amount in a month. I believed him. Took out new loans, mortgaged the apartment…
— And lost everything,— Aunt Galya finished. — Like dozens of other bank employees. Viktor turned out to be a common fraud.
— Wait,— Kostya frowned. — What does my surgery have to do with this?
— I was desperate,— tears rolled down their mother’s cheeks. — The bank threatened to take away the apartment. I asked for money from Matvey, making up the story about your illness. Thought I could return it in time…
— Mom! — Matvey jumped from his chair. — Lena and I gave our last savings!
— I know,— she covered her face with her hands. — Forgive me… I got all confused.
— That’s why I’m here,— Aunt Galya intervened. — I work in financial consulting. Learned about the situation accidentally, through old colleagues. Viktor has already been arrested.
— So, what now? — Kostya asked quietly.
— Now we’ll find a way out,— Aunt Galya spread documents on the table. — There are a few options: debt restructuring, personal bankruptcy…
Someone rang the doorbell. Matvey opened it—Lena was there.
— Sorry to come without warning,— she smiled guiltily. — I was worried…
— Come in,— he hugged his wife. — You’re just in time. We’re having a family council here.
Lena entered the kitchen, and Aglaya Dmitrievna started crying again:
— Lena, dear, forgive me… I didn’t want to let you down with the baby…
— Shh, shh,— Lena sat down next to her mother-in-law. — The main thing is that the truth is finally out. Now we’ll handle it together.
The apartment became remarkably quiet. Only the ticking of the wall clock and the rustling of papers being sorted by Aunt Galya could be heard. The family immersed themselves in studying documents—bank statements, loan agreements, receipts.
— Alright, let’s take this step-by-step,— Aunt Galya took out a calculator. — The total debt amount is seven million. Three to Matvey, two—bank loan, another two—microloans.
— Seven million?— Kostya froze. — Mom, how could you…
— I kept digging myself deeper and deeper,— Aglaya Dmitrievna fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth. — Every time I thought—now the investments will bring profit, I’ll return everything…
— Wait,— suddenly said Lena. — What about dad’s apartment in the suburbs? It’s still not sold, right?
Everyone turned to her.
— Exactly!— Aunt Galya perked up. — Aglaya, didn’t you say it’s worth about four million?
— Yes, but… that’s a memory of dad…— Aglaya Dmitrievna began.
— Mom,— Matvey gently interrupted her. — Dad would have wanted us to use the apartment to save the family. He always said—the most important thing is that loved ones are happy.
At that moment, Lena suddenly turned pale and clutched her stomach.
— Lena!— Matvey rushed to his wife. — What happened?
— Seems like… the baby decided to remind us of himself,— she smiled weakly. — Don’t worry, just kicking strongly.
Aglaya Dmitrievna looked at her daughter-in-law with tears in her eyes:
— God, you wanted to use that money for an apartment for the child…
— Then, it’s decided,— Aunt Galya spoke firmly. — We’ll sell dad’s apartment. That will cover most of the debts. The rest can be restructured.
— I also have an idea,— suddenly said Kostya. — Remember dad’s garage with the workshop? I could deconservate it, start repairing cars. Dad taught me everything…
— Really?— Aglaya Dmitrievna looked at her son with hope. — Would you like to continue his work?
— Why not? I’ve wanted to leave the office for a long time. And it will be a steady income—dad’s clients still ask when the workshop will open.
— And Matvey and I can live at his parents’ for a while,— added Lena. — They’ve been inviting us, want to help with the baby. We’ll save on rent.
Aunt Galya quickly calculated something:
— If all goes well, we can be fully debt-free in a year and a half. And then…
— And then we’ll live honestly,— Aglaya Dmitrievna smiled genuinely for the first time that morning. — Without this endless lie. Without the fear of opening the mailbox or answering a call.
— Mom,— Matvey hugged his mother’s shoulders. — The main thing is you’re not alone anymore. We’ll handle this.
— Family business, family home…— Aunt Galya mused. — Maybe that’s the real wealth?
Sunshine peeked through the window, and its rays played on a glass of water, creating a small rainbow on the wall. As if nature itself was signaling—after any storm comes clarity.
— You know what?— suddenly said Lena. — Let’s all have dinner together today? Like we used to on Sundays?
— And I’ll make your favorite cabbage pie,— picked up Aglaya Dmitrievna. — Remember, Matvey?
— Of course, I remember. Dad always said—your pies could reconcile anyone…
They talked until evening—reminiscing about the past, making plans for the future. And gradually the weight of lies and distrust gave way to something new—hope and faith that together they could overcome any difficulties.
Three months passed. The autumn sun peeked into the windows of the old workshop, where Kostya was tinkering with another car. A photo of their father hung on the wall—he seemed to be watching his son, smiling approvingly.
— How’s it going, bro?— Matvey entered the workshop, carrying a thermos of coffee.
— Great! Imagine, dad’s old clients found out we reopened—there’s a queue for the next two weeks ahead,— Kostya wiped his hands with a rag. — How about you?
— We finally sold dad’s apartment. Four and a half million—more than we expected.
They sat down on the old sofa in the corner of the workshop. The same one they often fell asleep on as children, waiting for their father to come home from work.
— How’s mom?— asked Kostya, pouring coffee.
— Better. Aunt Galya got her into financial planning courses. Imagine, she now keeps spreadsheets in Excel, accounts for every penny.
— And she visits Lena every evening,— Kostya smiled. — Cooks, cleans… Atone for her guilt?
— Rather, she finally became herself—caring, loving. Without the constant anxiety about debts.
Aunt Galya peeked into the workshop:
— Boys, are you here? Oh, having coffee… And I’ve got news!
She sat down next to them, pulled out a tablet:
— Look—we’ve completely paid off the microloans. Negotiated debt restructuring with the bank. And most importantly—I found entrepreneurship courses. Kostya, you need to take them if you decided to develop the workshop.
— You think?— Kostya scratched his head. — Will there be time? I have clients…
— There will be,— a voice came from the door. There stood Aglaya Dmitrievna. — I can help with the paperwork and client scheduling. I’m retiring soon anyway.
— Mom? Are you serious?— Kostya was surprised.
— Absolutely. I worked at the bank for so many years—I can definitely handle the documents. And most importantly—I want to be useful. Truly, without deception.
Matvey hugged his mother’s shoulders:
— You know, mom… I’m proud of you. Really.
— Thank you, son,— she hugged him back. — And how’s Lena? It’s almost time, isn’t it?
— In a month. Doctors say everything’s excellent. And you know… we decided to name the baby after dad.
Aglaya Dmitrievna covered her eyes with her hand, trying to hold back tears:
— He would have been very happy. Very…
— So, now the main question,— Aunt Galya interjected business-like. — Who will be the godparent?
— Me!— Kostya immediately jumped up. — Not even up for debate!
Everyone laughed, and that laughter—sincere, light—echoed through the workshop. It seemed even the father in the photograph smiled wider.
In the evening, when Matvey returned home, Lena greeted him with news:
— Imagine, mom helped me prepare the nursery all day today. Even pulled out the old cradle from the attic, cleaned it up. Says you once slept in it…
— And?— Matvey embraced his wife.
— And she cried. Said that only now she realized—no money is worth family happiness. And you know… I believe her.
— Congratulations! You have a boy, 3700, healthy and strong!— the midwife’s voice sounded like music. Matvey sat in the corridor of the maternity hospital, unable to hold back tears of happiness. Mom, Aunt Galya, and Kostya bustled around, all excited and joyful.
— He looks just like you as a child,— smiled Aglaya Dmitrievna, looking at her grandson through the glass of the ward. — Same little nose, same chubby chin…
— And the same character—loud, demanding,— joked Kostya. — A true Volkov!
Aunt Galya pulled an envelope out of her bag:
— Here’s my gift to the godson. Opened a savings account in his name. May he grow up in financial stability.
— Thank you,— Matvey hugged his aunt. — For everything. If it weren’t for you then…
— If it weren’t for all of us,— she corrected him. — Family is the greatest wealth.
A week later, they brought Lena and the baby home. The apartment smelled of pies—Aglaya Dmitrievna had been busy in the kitchen since morning. In the nursery, a new photo appeared in a frame—four generations of the Volkov family: grandfather in his workshop, young parents with a newborn son, a beaming grandmother, and a proud uncle Kostya.
— You know what I’ve been thinking about?— said Lena that evening, rocking her son. — How everything has changed over this year. Remember how it started?
— With mom’s call in the middle of the night,— nodded Matvey. — Who would have thought that it would become the beginning… of our family’s rebirth?
The doorbell rang—Kostya came with news:
— Guess what, the workshop has already paid off! I hired a second mechanic, we’re booking clients a month in advance. And mom has put such order in the paperwork—the tax inspection passed without a single remark!
— And also,— he added, lowering his voice, — — I think I’ve met a girl. She brought her car in for repair…
— Let’s keep no secrets,— laughed Matvey. — We’ve had enough of secrets.
— What secrets?— Aglaya Dmitrievna peeked out of the kitchen. — What are you whispering about?
— About happiness, mom,— Matvey smiled. — About simple human happiness.
— And that for it, you don’t need millions,— added Lena. — Just love and honesty.
The baby in the crib stirred and opened his eyes—just as clear and kind as the grandfather in the photograph. New life, new hope, new beginning…
In the evening, when everyone had left, Aglaya Dmitrievna took out her diary. The same one where she used to record amounts of debt and interest on loans. Now there were completely different entries:
— Today the grandson smiled for the first time. Kostya met a nice girl. Lena is returning to work, and I’ll be sitting with the baby. Matvey got a promotion at the clinic.
I no longer count money every evening. Now I count smiles, hugs, kind words. And you know what? This count is much more important…
Sunday lunch at the Volkovs became a tradition. In the spacious kitchen of the workshop, where the father once worked, the whole family gathered every week.
— Careful, the soup is hot!— Aglaya Dmitrievna was serving aromatic borscht. In the corner, the one-year-old grandson played, watched by Marina—the same girl from the auto service, who was now Kostya’s fiancée.
— Mom, tell our guest how we first came here a year ago,— smiled Matvey, helping Lena set the table.
— Oh, that’s a whole story,— Aglaya Dmitrievna sat down next to Marina. — A story about how sometimes you need to lose everything to find the most important thing…
— And the most important thing is to be honest with each other,— added Aunt Galya, taking a pie out of the oven. — Speaking of which. I have news—my project on financial literacy for families was approved. We’ll help people learn to manage their budgets, avoid debt traps.
— And we have news too,— Lena exchanged a glance with her husband. — We’ve saved up for the down payment on a mortgage. Found a wonderful three-bedroom apartment nearby.
— How?— Aglaya Dmitrievna was surprised. — We’ve only paid off half the debt…
— Mom,— Matvey hugged his mother’s shoulders. — Lena and I decided long ago—that debt can be considered paid off. You help every day with the baby, keep the documentation in the workshop… It’s worth more than any money.
— But I owe…— she began.
— You only owe one thing,— Kostya interrupted. — To be happy. And to make us happy. Like now.
Little Alexander, named after the grandfather, tried to take his first steps, holding onto a chair. Marina filmed him on her phone.
— Look,— suddenly said Aunt Galya. — He’s walking straight to dad’s photo.
Everyone fell silent. On the wall hung a large portrait of Alexander Volkov—the one who built this workshop, who taught his son to fix cars, and most importantly—to believe in the family.
— You know,— quietly said Aglaya Dmitrievna, watching her grandson. — I used to think that wealth was measured by numbers in a bank account. Now I understand—it’s in this. In Sunday lunches. In children’s laughter. In being able to look each other in the eye and tell the truth.
— And in dad’s pies!— laughed Kostya, biting into a huge piece.
— Hey, those are my pies!— his mother jokingly protested.
— Dad’s recipe,— winked Matvey.
Outside the workshop, the sun was setting, painting the sky in warm tones. Cars lined up—Kostya’s clients were increasing. On the windowsill lay a ledger, neatly filled out by Aglaya Dmitrievna. And on the table, next to the family photo, stood a piggy bank with the inscription — For the future—Aunt Galya was teaching little Sasha the basics of financial literacy from the cradle.
A year ago, they couldn’t have imagined that debts and deception would become the beginning of a new, happy chapter in their lives. A chapter about the importance of trusting each other, telling the truth, and remembering—there are no problems that a family can’t solve together.
— To us!— Aunt Galya raised a cup of tea. — To family!— the others picked up. — Agoo!— added little Sasha, and everyone laughed.
This was a typical Sunday evening in the Volkov family. One of many. But it’s precisely such evenings that make up real happiness. The kind that can’t be measured in money. The kind that stays with us forever.
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