Andrei poked at his cold steak with his fork, not even looking up at his wife. His voice carried that same sharp, sticky envy he had stopped bothering to hide over the past few months.
Irina gently dabbed her lips with a napkin, trying to remain calm. She had come home from work an hour earlier, exhausted after difficult negotiations with suppliers, but satisfied with what she had accomplished. She had managed to secure exclusive terms for the company. But instead of rest, what awaited her at home was another serving of belittlement.
“Andrei, we’ve already talked about this,” she replied in the steady, composed voice of an executive. “Ksenia only told me there was an opening for a department head. She passed my résumé to her husband. That’s all. After that, there were three interview stages, a test assignment, and a probation period during which I pulled the entire department out of a deep crisis.”
“Oh, come on, don’t feed me that nonsense!” Andrei finally looked up, twisting his mouth into a crooked smirk. “Three stages… They only did that for show. Corporate ethics, the appearance of fair selection. If you weren’t friends with the director’s wife, nobody would have even looked at your résumé. You’d still be sitting there on your old peanuts and acting smart.”
Irina said nothing. There was no point in defending herself. She had spent ten years in management. She knew the value of her own professionalism. She knew how to lead large teams, how to take responsibility for multimillion-ruble contracts, and how to make decisions under pressure. Yes, the connection had helped her get an interview at a prestigious company. But the position and the salary, which was three times higher than her husband’s income, she had earned through hard work and sleepless nights.
Andrei, on the other hand, worked as an ordinary design engineer. He did not love his job, showed no initiative, and explained his lack of career growth by saying that “management only promotes their own people.” His wife’s success had become a personal insult to him.
“As you wish,” Irina said, rising from the table and gathering the plates. “If it makes you feel better to think I’m just some lucky fool, then think that. The important thing is that my ‘luck’ now allows us to plan on buying a bigger apartment.”
Andrei’s cheek twitched strangely, but he said nothing.
The storm broke on Saturday.
That morning, Tamara Vasilyevna, Andrei’s mother, arrived for a visit. She brought homemade pastries, complaints about her unstable blood pressure, and an atmosphere of veiled threat.
After tea, just as Irina was about to sit down with her laptop and finish her weekly report, her mother-in-law gave a theatrical sigh and pressed her hands to her chest.
“Oh, it’s so hard for me to sit trapped within four walls, children. The doctor said I need fresh air. Nature. But where am I supposed to find nature? On the balcony, breathing exhaust fumes?”
Andrei gave his mother a meaningful look, then turned his gaze to Irina.
“Mom, Ira and I were just about to discuss something. Right, Ira?”
Irina looked up from her laptop, feeling a bad premonition begin to form inside her.
“What exactly?” she asked cautiously.
“The country house,” her husband announced cheerfully. “Mom and I went to look at one the other day. A wonderful plot! A wooden house, a bathhouse, fruit trees. A river nearby. Perfect for Mom’s health. And we can go there on weekends too, grill kebabs, relax.”
Irina slowly closed her laptop.
“A country house? Andrei, we’re saving for the down payment on a four-room apartment. We planned to expand next year. What country house?”
“The apartment can wait!” he declared with complete authority. “Our three-room place is fine. But Mom needs to improve her health. This offer is urgent, they’re practically giving it away. Only two and a half million.”
Tamara Vasilyevna dabbed her dry eyes with a handkerchief.
“Irochka, surely you understand… Years go by. I’d like to have my own little piece of land, some greenery. You can buy apartments later. You’re young.”
“Two and a half million,” Irina repeated like an echo. “We have one and a half million saved. And that is our joint money for a bigger apartment.”
“We won’t touch it!” Andrei exclaimed happily, as if presenting a brilliant idea. “We’ll take out a loan. A consumer loan.”
“Who is ‘we’?” Irina’s voice turned icy.
“Well, I’ll take it out in my name. My salary bank has already given preliminary approval,” Andrei said, crossing one leg over the other. “And you’ll make the payments.”
Irina looked at her husband, genuinely believing for a moment that he had made a tasteless joke. But Andrei’s face was completely serious. In his eyes, she saw a twisted sense of triumph.
“Did I hear you correctly?” Irina asked quietly. “You want to take out a loan for a country house for your mother, and I’m supposed to pay it off?”
“What’s the big deal?” Andrei spread his hands as if they were discussing buying bread. “Ira, let’s be honest. Your new salary is pure luck. That money comes easily to you. You don’t have to strain yourself. You just sit in a pretty office and shuffle papers around because your friend got you in. I’m the one who works hard. So it’s only fair that you share your luck with the family.”
“Fair?!” Irina felt a dull rage begin to boil inside her. “My salary is the result of my experience and education. And why should I pay for property I absolutely do not need?”
At that point Tamara Vasilyevna joined the conversation, her suffering tone instantly replaced by her usual commanding hardness.
“Because you are a wife! Family is supposed to help each other. Andryusha raised me, now it’s my turn to rest. And you, Ira, instead of being grateful that your husband doesn’t drink, doesn’t chase women, and stays at home, you’re still throwing tantrums! That new position has spoiled you. You’ve learned to count other people’s money, but forgotten your duty to your elders!”
“Duty?” Irina stood up. She was done playing the good daughter-in-law. “My duty is to provide for myself and protect my own future. I did not sign up to sponsor your whims.”
“So you refuse?” Andrei narrowed his eyes.
“Categorically. If you need a country house, take it and pay for it yourselves. Not a single kopek from my pocket will go toward this adventure.”
She turned and went into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. Through the wall, she heard her mother-in-law’s outraged hiss:
“You warmed a snake in your own house! I told you, you should never let a woman earn more than a man. She’ll climb right onto your neck!”
For the entire next week, Andrei gave her the silent treatment. He demonstratively refused to eat anything Irina cooked, slept on the very edge of the bed with his back turned, and answered every question in monosyllables.
Irina did not insist. At work, the quarter was closing. She disappeared into meetings, consolidated budgets, and monitored the completion of performance targets. She had no time for her husband’s childish sulking. She hoped common sense would eventually prevail.
On Friday evening, she came home in a good mood. The director had personally thanked her for excellent results and awarded her a large bonus. She wanted to share the joy, order good food, and open a bottle of wine.
Andrei was sitting at the kitchen table. In front of him lay a thick folder of documents. A smug, victorious smile played across his face.
“Well then, business lady, you’re home?” he said, patting the folder with his palm. “I have news for you.”
Irina dropped her bag onto the ottoman in the hallway and walked into the kitchen.
“What news?”
“I took out the loan. And today we finalized the purchase agreement. The country house is ours. More precisely, Mom’s. I immediately registered it as a gift to her, to avoid any bureaucracy later.”
Irina felt the floor disappear beneath her feet.
“You took out a loan for two and a half million? Without my consent?”
“The bank needed my consent more than yours,” he smirked. “The monthly payment is fifty-five thousand. That’s a bit much on my salary, as you understand. So from now on, all utilities, groceries, car maintenance, and household expenses are entirely on you. And you’ll add about fifteen thousand a month to my card too, so I’m not left completely without pocket money.”
He said it so casually, as if he were dividing up chores around the house.
“Are you out of your mind?” Irina breathed.
“Completely sane,” Andrei replied, leaning back in his chair. “You refused to pay the bank directly. Fine. I’m a man, so I solved the problem myself. But we’ll live on your salary. You’re our ‘successful manager,’ after all. Think of it as a tax on your undeserved luck. You’re not going to divorce me over this, are you? Who needs you at thirty-eight besides me?”
Irina looked at her husband and no longer recognized the man she had lived with for ten years. Sitting in front of her was a calculating, petty blackmailer, utterly convinced of his own impunity. He thought he had cornered her. He thought she would swallow this arrogance obediently just to preserve the sacred “status of a married woman.”
“True,” she said slowly, a barely noticeable smile touching her lips. “Why divorce? A country house it is.”
Andrei relaxed. Triumph flashed in his eyes. He had won. He had put his arrogant wife back in her place.
“That’s better. I knew you’d come to your senses. Tomorrow, transfer those fifteen thousand I mentioned to my card. Mom needs to buy seedlings.”
Irina said nothing. She silently turned and walked into the bathroom. She needed to wash this day off herself and prepare.
She had a plan.
Over the next few days, Irina behaved like the perfect wife. She transferred fifteen thousand to Andrei. She filled the refrigerator with delicacies. She even sent Tamara Vasilyevna an expensive box of chocolates as a “housewarming” gift.
Andrei strutted around like a rooster. On the phone, he told his friends how skillfully he had “trained” his wife and how important it was for a man to remain the head of the family.
On Thursday morning, just as Andrei was about to leave for work, Irina stepped into the hallway. She was dressed in a strict business suit, her hair perfectly styled, her makeup light and flawless.
“Andrei, wait five minutes. We need to sign something.”
“Sign?” He frowned, glancing at his watch. “Ira, I’m late. Let’s do it tonight.”
“It won’t take long. Come into the living room.”
On the coffee table lay two stacks of documents. Beside them sat an unfamiliar man in a gray suit.
“This is Viktor Pavlovich,” Irina said, taking a seat in an armchair. “My lawyer.”
“What lawyer?” Andrei tensed, looking from his wife to the man. “Ira, what kind of circus is this?”
“Please sit down, Andrei Nikolaevich,” the lawyer said politely but firmly. “Review the documents.”
Andrei reluctantly picked up the top sheet. His eyes began running over the lines.
“Petition for dissolution of marriage and division of jointly acquired property…”
“Have you lost your mind?!” he shouted, flinging the papers onto the table. “You’re divorcing me over a country house?! I told you, you’ll buy the groceries. I’m not asking for much!”
“Read the second page, Andrei,” Irina advised calmly. “That’s where it gets interesting.”
Andrei grabbed the papers again with shaking hands.
“‘To recover from the defendant monetary compensation in the amount of 750,000 rubles…’” he read aloud, then stopped. “What compensation?”
“Do you remember our joint account?” Irina smiled gently. “The one with one and a half million on it. For the apartment.”
“So? I didn’t touch it! I took out a loan!”
“Correct. You didn’t touch it. But while you were secretly taking out a loan for two and a half million and gifting newly purchased property to your mother so it would be excluded from division, I didn’t waste my time either. I transferred the entire one and a half million to another account, one that is fully mine. But by law, half of that money belongs to you. Seven hundred and fifty thousand. And I’m prepared to return it to you.”
Andrei burst into triumphant laughter.
“You’re an idiot, Irka! You hired a lawyer just to give me my own money? Excellent! Transfer it. I’ll use it to pay off part of the loan early.”
“Don’t rush,” Irina said, interlacing her fingers. “Viktor Pavlovich, please explain the details to my still-husband.”
The lawyer adjusted his glasses and began speaking in a dry, even voice.
“You see, Andrei Nikolaevich, you took out a consumer loan for two and a half million rubles while legally married. According to the Family Code, if a loan is taken for the needs of the family, the debt is divided equally.”
“Exactly!” Andrei barked. “She has to pay too! It’s a family debt!”
“However,” the lawyer raised one finger, “you registered the purchased real estate as a gift to a third party, your mother. Therefore, the acquired property never became part of the spouses’ joint property. Moreover, my client can prove that she did not consent to this loan and that the funds were not used for family needs. We have records of your messages in which you personally acknowledge that the country house was purchased specifically for your mother and that you took out the loan on your own.”
Andrei turned pale.
“What… what does that mean?”
“It means,” Irina said, leaning forward and looking straight into his eyes, “that the two-and-a-half-million loan is exclusively your personal problem. The court will not recognize it as a shared debt. You will pay it alone. In full. Fifty-five thousand a month.”
“But my salary is only seventy!” Andrei cried out in panic. “What am I supposed to live on?”
“That is no longer my concern,” Irina said, leaning back in her chair. “Now, about my money. Seven hundred and fifty thousand, your share of our savings. I will not be transferring it to your card. Under the property division agreement, I am buying out your share of this apartment. The apartment was purchased with a mortgage that we have already paid off, but the down payment was made by my parents. Your share here is insignificant and is valued at approximately that amount. I keep the apartment. You receive freedom from property claims.”
“You have no right!” Andrei jumped to his feet, shaking. “You’re leaving me on the street with a giant debt! This is illegal!”
“Everything is legal. The documents have been prepared flawlessly. If you refuse to sign the agreement voluntarily, we will go to court. And believe me, the court will side with me. You trapped yourself with your greed and arrogance.”
Andrei began pacing around the room, clutching his head. Genuine terror filled his eyes. The illusion of control had collapsed, burying his enormous ego underneath it.
“Ira, Irochka…” His tone suddenly changed. He tried to approach her, but stopped when he met her icy stare. “Why be so radical? We’re family! I lost my temper. I’ll sell the country house! We’ll return everything!”
“You can’t sell it,” Irina reminded him. “You gifted it to your mother. And Tamara Vasilyevna is unlikely to give up her fresh air. Health is the most important thing, isn’t it?”
“You bitch!” he spat, realizing there was no way back. “You’re just a vindictive bitch! That job of yours has eaten your brain!”
“No, Andrei,” Irina said, standing up to make it clear that the conversation was over. “My job taught me how to calculate risks and get rid of unprofitable assets. And you turned out to be the most loss-making project of my life.”
She pointed to the stack of documents.
“Pack your things. I’m giving you two days to move out. You can stay with your mother, in the fresh air. And you can pass the documents through Viktor Pavlovich.”
The divorce went surprisingly quickly. Realizing that he had neither the money nor the legal arguments to fight Irina and her lawyer, Andrei signed the agreement.
He moved in with his mother in her old two-room apartment. Country-house life turned out to be far less idyllic than Tamara Vasilyevna had dreamed. The old wooden house constantly demanded investment: first the roof leaked, then the floor began rotting, then the well pump broke. Money was catastrophically short. Andrei had to give almost his entire salary to the bank, while trying to feed himself and his mother on the crumbs that remained.
They fought often. Neighbors said their shouting could be heard even from the street. Tamara Vasilyevna blamed her son for losing such a “profitable” wife, while Andrei took his anger out on his mother, cursing the day she had first mentioned the country house.
And Irina?
Irina continued building her career. A year later, she sold that very apartment, added her savings, and bought luxurious apartments in an elite residential complex, with panoramic windows and security.
She no longer justified her success to anyone. She knew she had earned every kopek.
Sometimes, sitting on her new balcony in the evening with a glass of good wine, she remembered her ex-husband’s words about her unbelievable “luck.”
And she smiled.
Because in one thing, Andrei had been right: she really had been incredibly lucky.
Lucky enough to get rid of the dead weight in time.