Marina stood by the kitchen window, turning an empty envelope over in her hands. The same envelope that had held thirty-seven thousand rubles just the day before—six months’ worth of careful saving.
She’d put aside a little from every paycheck: no new clothes, no cosmetics, the cheapest yogurts, coffee brewed at home instead of stopping at a café on the way to work. Thirty-seven thousand. Enough for a week in the south—in a decent hotel, not some hostel with a shared shower. Sea, sun, and the luxury of not thinking about bills or the exhaustion that had been piling up for years.
And now the envelope was empty.
“Andryusha,” she called softly, keeping her voice steady, “can you come here a minute?”
From the other room came a snort and the squeak of the couch springs. Her husband appeared in the doorway, half-asleep in a stretched-out T-shirt. It was 9:30 on a Saturday—his sacred sleeping time after a hard week. Marina usually tried not to disturb him.
“What?” he yawned.
She held up the envelope.
“Where’s the money?”
Andrey paused. He rubbed his face with his palms—the way he always did when he needed a few seconds to stall. Marina had watched that gesture hundreds of times over their eleven years of marriage.
“Listen, Marish…” he began in a calming voice. “You have to understand, it’s a situation—”
“Where’s the money, Andrey?”
“I gave it to Lenka,” he blurted quickly, as if speed could soften the impact. “Her landlady went completely nuts—threatened to throw her out onto the street. She’s two months behind on rent. I couldn’t abandon my sister, you get it? She’s alone with Misha, he’s four…”
Marina slowly set the envelope on the table. Her fingers were trembling, so she clenched her hands into fists to hide it.
“So you took my money,” she said, very quietly, “the money I saved for six months for a vacation… and you gave it to your sister. Without asking me.”
“I thought you’d understand!” Andrey snapped, irritated that he even had to explain. “What vacation when a kid might get tossed out on the street? Are you serious? Family is family!”
“Your family,” Marina corrected. “Your sister. Your nephew.”
“Oh God, here we go again!” Andrey dragged a hand through his hair. “What are we now—strangers? Lenka is my sister, and Misha is our nephew. OURS, you hear me?”
“No, Andryusha, I don’t.” Marina sat down because her legs suddenly felt weak. “I don’t understand why your sister’s problems keep getting solved at my expense. And it’s not the first time, by the way.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Remember three years ago when I was saving for courses? Twenty thousand. You gave that to Lenka too—she ‘urgently’ needed money for rent. You promised you’d return it in a month. Where is it, Andrey?”
“I forgot,” he muttered. “She probably forgot too.”
“Of course she forgot.” Marina smiled without any joy. “Because for her it’s normal. She calls her brother, complains a bit—and it’s done. And I never got to take those courses.”
“Well, sorry!” Andrey raised his voice. “What now, should we travel back in time? Lenka’s alone, it’s hard for her! Her ex doesn’t pay support, she works two jobs—”
“And I don’t work, right?” Marina’s voice rose too, even though she’d wanted to stay calm. “Am I sitting at home living off you? I’m on my feet from seven in the morning till eight at night in that damn clinic! Rude patients, endless lines, a boss who’s a tyrant. And I have the right to go to the sea at least once a year—just to lie on a beach and breathe like a human being!”
“You’ll go next year,” Andrey said in a placating tone. “I swear, I’ll give you the money back before next season. They promised a good bonus…”
Marina laughed—dry and bitter.
“Andrey, I’m forty-one. Forty-one. The last real vacation I had was five years ago. Remember? When we went to your mom’s village—where I weeded the garden and cooked for your entire family because your mother decided to host a big celebration during our visit.”
“That was a good vacation,” he protested. “Village air, peace and quiet—”
“A good vacation for you,” Marina cut him off. “You went fishing with Uncle Kolya, drank beer on the porch, slept till noon. I worked. Like always.”
“Oh God, not this again!” Andrey turned toward the door. “I’m not listening to this. Your complaints—again.”
“Stop.”
Something in Marina’s voice made him freeze. She stood up, straightened her back. A lump rose in her throat, but she swallowed it and lifted her chin.
“You left me without a vacation. Now, my dear, I set the terms.”
Andrey turned back, frowning in confusion.
“What?”
“You heard me.” Marina surprised herself with how calm she sounded—as if a switch flipped inside her, and fear disappeared, replaced by cold clarity. “You want me to forgive this? Fine. There will be conditions.”
“What conditions?” Andrey tried to smirk, but it came out uncertain. “What is this, negotiations?”
“Exactly.” Marina walked to the table, pulled a notepad and pen from the drawer. “Sit down.”
“Marish, this is ridiculous…”
“Sit down, Andrey.”
He sat. Marina could see him trying to figure out if she was serious, searching for the old, familiar ground between them. But that ground was gone. She felt it too—like the reliable floor under her feet had vanished, and she’d discovered she could still stand.
“All right,” she began, opening the notepad. “First. Within one month you return the thirty-seven thousand. Not in a year. Not someday. In exactly a month—by the tenth—the last ruble goes back into this envelope.”
“Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” Andrey protested. “I’ve got a loan, the car needs work—”
“Your problem.” Marina kept writing. “Ask your mother. Ask Lenka, since you’re so selfless with her. Get a side job. But the money will be there.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Then option two,” Marina said, lifting her eyes to his. “We sell your precious console.”
“What console?”
“The console you bought last year for fifty thousand. Remember how I asked you to put money into fixing the bathroom and you said we didn’t have any? And a week later you dragged that big box home.”
Andrey went pale.
“Marina, what are you talking about? That’s… mine!”
“Then you’ll find the money,” Marina said flatly. “Moving on. Second condition: your sister never—do you hear me, never—takes our money without my approval again. If you want to help her, do it from your salary. But my savings are off limits.”
“That’s selfish!” Andrey snapped. “So we can’t help family now?”
“We can help,” Marina replied evenly. “Just not at my expense. And not at the cost of our life. Do you know how many times Lenka has borrowed from us over the years? Seven. Seven times, Andrey. And she hasn’t paid back once. I counted.”
“She promised—”
“Promises don’t count. Money does.” Marina wrote another line. “Third condition: we split housework equally. Cooking—every other day. Cleaning—weekends together. Laundry and ironing—each of us handles our own.”
“Hold on, I work!” Andrey jumped up. “My schedule is crazy!”
“I work too,” Marina reminded him. “Or do you think my job doesn’t count? I’m on my feet eight hours a day. Then I come home and start a second shift—cooking, cleaning, washing. And you lie on the couch playing your games.”
“I’m tired!”
“So am I, Andrey!” Marina raised her voice. “But somehow nobody excuses me from housework because I’m tired. You’re tired—so everyone is supposed to tiptoe around you like you’re sacred.”
Andrey stared at her with his mouth open. He was searching for the usual argument, the explanation that always used to work. But Marina didn’t look away.
“Fourth,” she continued. “Next year I go on vacation. Alone. Where I want and when I want. And no trips to your mother’s village instead of real rest.”
“So you’re just abandoning me?” Andrey tried to act wounded. “A family—and she’s going off alone?”
“You went to Karelia with your friends last year,” Marina reminded him. “Fishing trip. Two weeks. I said nothing. Now it’s my turn.”
He fell silent. Marina watched thoughts race across his face—him hunting for some lever to drag everything back to the old routine. But she wasn’t going back.
“And finally—fifth.” Marina put down the pen. “If you don’t accept these conditions, or you break even one, I move out. I rent a room and live separately. I won’t rush into divorce, but I’ll live apart. We’ll see how you handle the household on your own.”
“You won’t do that,” Andrey said, but his voice wobbled.
Marina stepped closer until she was right in front of him.
“Want to test it?” she asked softly. “You know what I realized while you were sleeping? Why have I spent my whole life afraid of upsetting you—angering you, disturbing you? Why do I tiptoe around my own apartment, apologize for every request, tolerate your sister and her endless problems? This is my life too, Andrey. Mine. And it’s passing me by while I serve everyone else.”
“Marina… I didn’t think…” he started, lost.
“Exactly—you didn’t.” She closed the notepad. “Now you will. You have one month to replace the money and one week to start sharing chores. Agreed?”
Andrey stayed silent. Then he nodded—uncertain, but he nodded.
“Agreed,” he muttered.
Marina exhaled. Her hands were still shaking, her heart hammering, but inside she felt a strange relief—as if a weight she hadn’t even known existed had finally been lifted.
“Go back to sleep,” she said. “But first take out the trash and wash last night’s dishes. That’s your job now too.”
He wanted to argue, but he met her gaze and changed his mind. Without a word he left the kitchen. Marina heard him wrestle with the trash bag, then the sound of running water.
She sat by the window with a cup of coffee. Outside, a gray November morning—first snow melting on the asphalt. A typical Moscow autumn: damp, bleak, miserable.
But Marina caught herself smiling.
The envelope was empty. The vacation would have to wait. But something had shifted—something important. And maybe it was worth even more than those thirty-seven thousand.
That evening, when Marina returned from the store, Andrey was sitting at the table with a calculator and a sheet of paper, doing the math and weighing options. When he saw her, he gave a guilty smile.
“I’m figuring out how to get the money,” he explained. “Maybe I’ll actually take a side job. Or ask Mom.”
“Up to you,” Marina said, putting groceries away. “Just remember—by the tenth.”
He nodded.
“Marish,” he called when she turned toward the kitchen, “I really didn’t want you to be upset. I thought you’d understand.”
She turned back.
“Andryusha, the problem isn’t that you helped your sister,” Marina said. “The problem is you didn’t ask me. You decided for me. And I don’t want anyone deciding for me anymore. I don’t want to be convenient. I want to be equal.”
He thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Got it,” he said. And after a pause, added, awkwardly, “I’m sorry.”
It was clumsy, uncertain—barely an apology. But it was a beginning.
Marina went to the kitchen to make dinner. Tomorrow, she remembered, would be his turn. For the first time in eleven years, he would be the one standing at the stove, figuring out what to cook, fussing with ingredients.
She smiled again.
Two days later, Lenka called. Marina was mopping the hallway floor when she heard Andrey’s anxious voice from the living room:
“No, Len, I can’t. Seriously, I can’t… I get it, but I’m completely broke right now… No, I won’t be able to next month either…”
Marina wiped her hands and walked in. Andrey sat on the couch with his phone, looking miserable.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Lenka,” he said guiltily, glancing at Marina. “Her car got towed—some unpaid fines. She’s asking for ten thousand…”
Marina took the phone from him.
“Lena? Hi, it’s Marina,” she said. “Listen, we really don’t have money right now. Andrey put his funds into one obligation, I used mine up. So it won’t work this time.”
A furious voice erupted from the speaker.
“What do you mean it won’t work? I have to pick it up tomorrow—every day it sits there costs money!”
“Then you’ll have to find another solution,” Marina replied calmly. “You have friends, coworkers. Or take a small bank loan.”
“What loan? My credit history is ruined!” Lena whined. “Marina, you know I wouldn’t ask unless it was an emergency…”
“I understand,” Marina said. “But no means no, Lena. Sorry.”
And she hung up.
Andrey stared at her, stunned.
“You… you just said no to her,” he whispered.
“And?” Marina shrugged. “Am I not allowed?”
“I mean… you can, of course, but…” He trailed off, then gave a crooked smile. “She’ll run to Mom and complain.”
“Let her,” Marina said. “We’re adults, Andrey. We have our own family and our own problems. Lena is thirty-eight—she needs to learn how to handle her own life.”
That evening, Andrey’s mother did call. Marina was reading in the bedroom when she heard Andrey arguing in a raised voice.
“Mom, I’m telling you—I can’t right now!.. Yes, I get that Lena’s alone… No, Marina has nothing to do with it… Mom, don’t talk like that!.. Fine, fine, I’ll think about it…”
He came into the bedroom looking grim.
“Mom says you’re a bad influence on me,” he announced.
“Seriously?” Marina closed her book. “And what did you tell her?”
Andrey hesitated, then sighed.
“That she’s wrong,” he said. “And that we’ll handle it ourselves.”
Marina smiled, stood, and hugged him.
“Good,” she said.
That night they were close for the first time in months. And Marina suddenly realized she’d missed not only intimacy, but the person beside her—her husband, not just a roommate living his separate life nearby.
In the morning Andrey got up early and made breakfast himself. Clumsy, uneven—eggs slightly burned, coffee far too strong. But he tried. And Marina noticed.
“Delicious,” she lied, chewing the charred edge of the eggs.
“You’re lying,” he grinned. “But thanks. I’ll learn.”
By the end of the month Andrey brought her twenty-two thousand—money he’d earned from extra work.
“The rest a little later,” he promised.
Marina counted it and carefully slipped it into the envelope.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m waiting.”
Life at home really did get lighter. Andrey didn’t turn into a perfect husband overnight—sometimes he forgot the dishes, mixed up laundry settings, once even burned a pot. But he was trying. Marina saw the effort and appreciated it.
Lenka stopped calling with requests. His mother sulked for two weeks, then cooled off. In the end, Andrey was still her son, and she couldn’t stay angry forever.
And Marina opened a new bank account—specifically for vacation savings.
At the end of the month Andrey brought the remaining money.
“Here,” he said, handing it over. “All of it. Like I promised.”
Marina took the bills and stared at them for a long moment.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“No—thank you,” Andrey answered, unexpectedly. “If you’d swallowed it and stayed quiet like you always do, everything would’ve kept going the same. But you didn’t stay quiet. And you know what? It’s easier for me too. Honestly.”
Marina hugged him.
“Where are we going this summer?” he asked. “Sochi?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Marina replied. “I’ll think. Maybe Crimea. Or Abkhazia. We’ll see.”
“I’m with you,” Andrey said. “If you’ll take me, of course.”
She smiled.
“I will.”