Oleg came into the apartment and slammed the door so hard the walls seemed to answer back. His tie was loosened, his suit jacket tossed over his arm without a care. His face was glowing with excitement — that very day, the company had officially appointed him head of the sales department. And in a week, he’d be turning forty. A milestone birthday, a respectable title — everything was falling into place exactly the way he wanted.
— Svetlana! — he shouted, throwing the jacket onto the sofa. — Where are you? Come here, I’ve got news!
Svetlana walked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. At thirty-seven she looked younger than her age — slim, chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail, a light smile on her face.
— What’s going on? — she asked, perching on the armrest of the chair.
— What’s going on is your husband is a DEPARTMENT HEAD now! — Oleg flung his arms wide like he was on stage. — My pay is up by fifty percent, I get a company car, and an office with a river view. Can you imagine?
— Congratulations, — Svetlana said, truly pleased for him. — That’s amazing. You’ve worked so hard for this.
— Exactly! And you know what? I’m going to celebrate properly. Promotion and birthday in one — one party for two big events. Efficient, but big and impressive!
He pulled a notebook from his briefcase and started leafing through it.
— Look, I’ve planned everything already. The “Golden Lion” — the most prestigious restaurant in the city. A hundred guests: all our relatives, my coworkers, business partners. A seven-course dinner, live music, a host. It’s going to be a REAL EVENT!
Svetlana’s expression tightened; she was already doing the math in her head.
— Oleg, that’s insanely expensive. Just renting a hall at the Golden Lion costs a fortune, and a banquet for a hundred people on top of that…
— So what? — he dismissed her with a flick. — I’m head of department now, I have to look the part. People need to see I’m successful — not some ordinary office worker.
— But we don’t have that kind of money, — she said carefully. — Even with your new salary—
— WE don’t, but YOU do, — Oleg cut in, and something cold edged into his voice. — Your mother gave you money for a car. Three hundred thousand, if I’m remembering correctly.
Svetlana went pale.
— That’s my money. Mom saved it for years — she even sold her summer cottage. She wants me to buy a car so I can drive the kids to school and run errands. You know how hard it is without one.
— The kids can take the bus like everyone else, — Oleg snapped. — And I’ll bring groceries in the company car. So your little car can wait.
— No, Oleg. Mom made it very clear — that money is only for a car. I can’t spend it on your banquet.
Oleg sprang up from the chair, his face turning red with anger.
— My banquet? It’s OUR family celebration! Or do you not consider my promotion an achievement for the whole family?
— Of course I do, but—
— No “but”! — he barked. — I’m the head of this family, I make the decisions! And I’ve decided we’re celebrating at the Golden Lion. End of story!
Svetlana stood as well, crossing her arms.
— And I’ve decided I’m not giving my mother’s money away for your flashy show. We can celebrate modestly — at home, or at a small café. Why throw that kind of money into one evening?
— Because I’m not going to look POOR in front of my colleagues and partners! — Oleg moved in close. — Do you have any idea what my reputation depends on? My career? Future contracts?
— I do. And I also know I NEED a car. I work on the other side of town, the kids go to different schools. I get up at six every morning just to make everything work!
— Oh, come on, — Oleg scoffed. — You’re a freelance copywriter, you can work from home. And your fifteen thousand a month isn’t a job — it’s a hobby. I earn ten times that!
It hurt. She did earn less than he did — but her income was steady, and she valued the independence it gave her.
— My income is MY money. And my mother’s money is MY money too. I’m not spending it on your ego trip.
— Ego trip? — Oleg’s fists clenched. — Do you even understand who you’re talking to? I’m a department head in a major company! And who are you? A housewife typing cheap little articles for penny websites!
— I’m your WIFE! — Svetlana shouted. — And I have a right to my opinion!
— Your opinion doesn’t matter to me! — Oleg roared. — Tomorrow you transfer the money to my account. I already reserved the restaurant and paid the deposit by credit card. All that’s left is the balance.
— By credit card? You borrowed money?
— That’s none of your business! Your mommy’s money will cover the costs. And stop arguing — discussion over!
He turned and disappeared into the bedroom.
The next two days passed under a suffocating silence. Oleg made a point of not speaking to her, answering only with single words when he had to. Svetlana tried to reach him, offered compromises — a simpler restaurant, fewer guests, a smaller menu. But he refused to bend.
— Either the Golden Lion for a hundred people, or nothing, — he said over breakfast on Wednesday. — And stop trying to talk me out of it. I’ve decided.
— Oleg, please, this is madness — spending three hundred thousand on one night! With that money we could take a family vacation, renovate, save for the kids’ education—
— ENOUGH! — he slammed his fist on the table. — I’m sick of your whining! Is it really that hard to understand? I NEED this celebration! I need everyone to see what I’ve achieved!
— Who is “everyone”? And why? — she pushed back. — Your real friends already know you’ve succeeded. And the people you’re trying to impress will forget your party in a week.
— You don’t know anything about business! — Oleg got up. — You sit at home writing your “Ten ways to lose weight by summer” and think you understand life. In my world, it’s connections, status, image — that’s what decides everything!
— Maybe in your world. But family is OUR world. And I’m not letting you bankrupt it for your vanity!
Oleg stepped close, looming over her. Svetlana instinctively leaned back — she had never seen him like this.
— Listen carefully, — he said through clenched teeth. — Tomorrow is Thursday. By evening, the money will be in my account. Otherwise…
— Otherwise what? — Svetlana lifted her chin and met his stare.
— Otherwise I’ll call your mother myself and explain what an ungrateful daughter she raised. I’ll tell her how you refused to support your husband at the most important moment of his career. I’m sure she’ll be disappointed.
— Don’t you dare pull my mom into this!
— Why not? — Oleg sneered. — And I can tell her other things too. Like how you lost a big client six months ago because you were irresponsible. Or how you damaged the neighbor’s car last summer and never admitted it.
— That’s not true! — Svetlana snapped. — I lost that client because I refused to write fake reviews. And I didn’t scratch the neighbor’s car — your friend Kostya did when he was parking. You told me yourself to keep quiet!
— Your mother doesn’t know the details. But she does know I’m the “perfect son-in-law” who takes care of her daughter and grandchildren. Who do you think she’ll believe?
A lump rose in Svetlana’s throat. Was the man she’d lived with for fifteen years really capable of something this low?
— Are you blackmailing me?
— I’m simply explaining reality, — Oleg replied coldly. — I need the money by tomorrow evening. And don’t make a scene — I have an important presentation, I need to concentrate.
He grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door.
— Oleg! — Svetlana called after him. — And what if I still refuse?
He turned, and something ugly flashed in his eyes.
— Then you’ll learn what it means to go against me. I can make your life very uncomfortable. Think about the kids — they still have school ahead of them. They need a father. A normal father, not one who’s furious and resentful because his wife won’t obey.
— Are you threatening the children?
— I’m WARNING you about the consequences of your stubbornness. It’s your choice.
The door slammed behind him, leaving Svetlana alone in the apartment. She slowly sank onto a chair. What was she supposed to do? Give in and hand over the money, betraying her mother’s trust? Or stand her ground — and let him turn their lives into a nightmare?
All day she paced, unable to focus on work. Several times she picked up her phone to call her mother, but put it down again — what could she even say? How could she explain it?
By evening, the decision seemed to make itself. Svetlana pulled the guest list from the drawer — the one Oleg had left on the table. A hundred names: relatives, coworkers, partners, friends. Each name had a phone number beside it.
She took her phone and dialed the first number.
— Good evening, Viktor Pavlovich? This is Svetlana, Oleg Rybakov’s wife. I’m calling about Saturday’s celebration…
The first calls were the hardest. She weighed every word, trying to sound calm and in control. But with each conversation it got easier.
— Hello, Marina. Yes, it’s Svetlana Rybakova. Unfortunately, I have to let you know Oleg’s birthday celebration has been canceled… No, no health issues — circumstances changed…
— Igor? Hi, it’s Sveta, Oleg’s wife. Just a heads-up — there won’t be a banquet at the Golden Lion. Yes, it’s canceled… Why? Family matters…
Some guests sounded confused, others sympathized, a few tried to dig for details. Svetlana stayed polite but firm and cut off any probing.
By ten that night she’d called everyone. Only the hardest call remained — the restaurant.
— Golden Lion, administrator Elena speaking, good evening!
— Hello. My name is Svetlana Rybakova. My husband booked a hall with you for Saturday—
— Yes, of course! A banquet for a hundred guests, the “Imperial” hall. Everything is prepared — we’re just waiting for the final payment.
— That’s why I’m calling. We need to cancel the reservation.
A pause.
— Cancel? But… you do understand it’s only three days away. Under the contract, the deposit is nonrefundable in that case.
— I understand. That’s fine.
— Are you certain? We could move it to another date.
— No, thank you. Cancel it completely.
She hung up and turned off her phone. The first part of her plan was done. Now she had to brace herself for the storm that was coming tomorrow.
She slept in her daughter’s room — her daughter was away at a friend’s dacha, and her son was at a sports camp. At least the children wouldn’t witness what was about to happen.
In the morning, Svetlana woke to a crash. Oleg burst into the room, waving his phone.
— WHAT IS THIS?! — he screamed. — Viktor just called me and said you canceled the banquet last night!
Svetlana sat up in bed and smoothed her hair.
— It means exactly what you think. I canceled your restaurant party.
— You… WHAT?! — Oleg was crimson with rage. — How DARE you?! It’s MY birthday! MY promotion!
— And it was MY money you demanded, — Svetlana said calmly, getting out of bed. — No money, no party.
— I told you to transfer it!
— And I told you I wouldn’t. You just didn’t listen.
Oleg stepped toward her, but Svetlana didn’t retreat.
— Do you even understand what you’ve done?! I’ll be a laughingstock! Everyone will think I’m a loser who can’t even throw his own birthday celebration!
— No. They’ll think you have a wife who refuses to let you burn through family resources for bragging rights.
— “Family” resources?! That’s your mommy’s money!
— Money she gave to ME. Not to you — and not to “us.” To me. For a specific purpose.
Oleg grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.
— Call everyone back right now and tell them it was a mistake! Tell them the party is still happening!
— NO! — Svetlana tore herself free. — I won’t call. And don’t touch me!
— Oh yeah?! — Oleg pulled out his phone. — Then I’m calling your mother. Let her see what kind of daughter she raised!
— Call her! — Svetlana suddenly shouted. — CALL HER! Tell her how you tried to blackmail me! How you threatened me! How you humiliated me! Go on — dial!
Oleg froze with the phone in his hand. He hadn’t expected that.
— You’re bluffing.
— Try me! — Svetlana snatched the phone from him and dialed her mother herself. — On speaker, so you can hear it too!
— Hello, sweetheart? — her mother’s voice answered.
— Hi, Mom. Oleg wants to tell you something about me. I’m putting you on speaker.
— Oleg? What’s happened?
Oleg stayed silent, staring at his wife. Svetlana gave him a sharp, bitter smile.
— Well? Why are you quiet now? Tell her! About the ungrateful daughter, the irresponsible wife — go on!
— I… um… hello, Galina Petrovna, — Oleg muttered. — It’s just a small misunderstanding…
— What misunderstanding? — her mother asked, alarmed.
— Mom, Oleg wanted me to give him your car money — to pay for his banquet for his birthday. I said no, and now he’s trying to complain to you about me.
— What?! — Galina Petrovna snapped. — Oleg, is that true?
— I… you see… it’s an important event… my promotion…
— Young man, — her mother’s tone turned icy, — I gave that money to my DAUGHTER for a CAR. If you think you can decide what happens to it, you are very mistaken.
— But—
— No “buts”! Svetochka, if he dares demand that money again, call me immediately. I’ll come over and explain it to him in person!
— Thank you, Mom.
— And you know what? Come stay with me this weekend. You need a break from that… gentleman.
Svetlana ended the call and looked at her husband. Oleg stood pale, fists clenched.
— You did it on purpose, — he hissed. — You set me up!
— I defended myself, — Svetlana replied. — From your rudeness. From your threats.
— I was trying to explain—
— Explain?! You ORDERED me around! You DEMANDED! You HUMILIATED me!
For years she’d swallowed his contempt, his condescending tone, his “I’m the man of the house.” But something snapped.
— You know what? — she stepped closer. — I’m DONE. Done with your arrogance. Done proving I’m a human being too. That my work is work. That my money is my money.
— What money? — Oleg spat. — Pennies.
— Pennies that fed this family when you got laid off three years ago! Forgot? When you spent six months job hunting, who paid the bills? Who bought groceries? Who dressed the kids?
— That was temporary—
— Yes! And I never once rubbed it in your face. Never mocked you. Never belittled you. But you? Every chance you get, you remind me you earn more!
Oleg took a step back. He didn’t recognize her — the quiet, accommodating Svetlana he was used to.
— Calm down…
— Don’t you DARE tell me to calm down! — she was shaking. — For fifteen years I’ve “calmed down.” Fifteen years I listened to how useless I supposedly am. How lucky I am to have a husband like you. How I should be grateful!
— I never—
— Always! You ALWAYS did it — in little jabs and hints and “jokes.” “Sveta’s glued to her computer again,” “So what, your fifteen thousand,” “Good thing you’ve got me”!
She started snatching things off the table and hurling them at the wall — pens, a notebook, the TV remote.
— Stop this hysterics!
— This isn’t hysteria — it’s the TRUTH! The truth you refuse to hear!
Oleg tried to grab her wrists, but she twisted away.
— Don’t touch me! You thought I’d put up with it forever? Stay quiet? Keep agreeing? Go to hell!
— Sveta!
— “Sveta” what? Surprised? Didn’t expect your obedient little wife to bite back? To say NO?
Oleg’s phone rang. The screen showed: “Director.”
— Pick up! — Svetlana shouted. — Let your precious boss hear what you’re really like!
Oleg declined the call, but it rang again.
— Hello… yes, Pyotr Sergeyevich… What? But how… I don’t understand…
Oleg’s face drained of color. He listened, then slowly lowered the phone.
— What happened? — Svetlana asked, a little calmer now.
— I… I’ve been removed from the position.
— What? How?
— Viktor Pavlovich… he’s on the board. When you called him and canceled the banquet, he got suspicious. Started asking questions. Turns out I paid the restaurant deposit with the corporate credit card. Misuse of company funds…
Oleg sank heavily onto the sofa.
— But you told me it was your card! You idiot!
— I… I thought I’d replace the money in time. Your three hundred thousand would’ve covered everything. Nobody would’ve known.
Svetlana stared at him, stunned.
— You stole from the company?!
— I didn’t steal! I borrowed! I was going to pay it back!
— My God, Oleg. What is wrong with you?! For bragging rights you were ready to commit a crime?!
— It’s not bragging rights! — he exploded. — It’s image! Status! You don’t understand!
— I understand you’re an idiot, — Svetlana snapped, grabbing her bag. — And for the sake of a performance you were ready to wreck this family.
— Where are you going?!
— To my mother’s. I need to think.
— Sveta, wait! We have to talk! I can fix this!
— Fix it? — she turned at the door. — You can’t fix anything, because you don’t even see the problem. You think you’re always right. That everyone owes you. That the world revolves around you.
— I can change!
— No, you can’t. Because you don’t want to. This works perfectly for you.
Svetlana walked out, slamming the door behind her. Oleg stayed on the sofa, head in his hands.
Svetlana spent a week at her mother’s, turning everything over in her mind. When she returned home, she calmly but firmly asked Oleg to move out — the apartment was hers; her father had given it to her after their daughter was born. Oleg had no choice but to move in with his own mother, who greeted him with chilly silence. His mother had always loved her grandchildren more than her son, and she couldn’t forgive him for his selfishness.
Svetlana still hadn’t decided on divorce, but she found herself thinking about it more and more. The main thing was this: she survived her husband’s obsession with “looking rich,” discovered her own strength, and felt happier with her children — who, for the first time in a long while, saw their mother calm and smiling.