Saturday had started perfectly.
Marina switched off her work phone, stretched lazily, and smiled at the ceiling. A whole weekend lay ahead of her, along with dinner at a restaurant and a housewarming party for Svetlana, her husband’s sister. It was a pleasant occasion, and Marina’s mood felt as light as the air in May.
Then the landline rang anyway.
Her mother.
Marina picked it up with a smile.
“Marinochka, why don’t you and Denis come out to the country house? We’ll heat up the sauna and make shashlik.”
“Mom, we can’t tonight. Svetlana invited us to a restaurant. She’s celebrating her new apartment. She finally paid off the mortgage, can you believe it?”
“Well, good for her. Come over after the restaurant, then. I’ll be waiting anyway. Love you!”
 
The line went dead.
Marina put the receiver down and found herself remembering the long saga of Svetlana’s mortgage. Denis had told the story so many times that it had begun to sound like some family epic, complete with sequels and sacrifices.
Svetlana had only just married Artyom when it all began. They sold practically everything that could be sold. Denis’s mother, Tamara Ivanovna, emptied her savings completely and gave every last ruble to her daughter.
And that still wasn’t enough.
Denis had even been persuaded to give up his share in their grandfather’s house.
Their grandfather had died a year earlier. The house was sold, and Denis’s part of the inheritance disappeared into Svetlana’s mortgage.
He agreed without causing a scene.
Family was family, after all.
Three more years of payments followed, and now Svetlana finally owned a two-bedroom apartment free and clear.
No mortgage.
No debt.
A reason to celebrate.
Marina had never envied her for a second.
She had her own three-bedroom apartment. Her grandmother had moved in with Marina’s mother and ceremoniously handed the apartment keys to her granddaughter.
“Live well, Marishka,” her grandmother had told her. “And only invite good people into your home.”
Marina had always tried to follow that advice.
That evening, she told her husband:
“Your sister called. She invited us to the restaurant. I’m already trying to decide what to wear. The blue dress or the green one?”
“I know,” Denis said with a dry laugh. “Svetka called me too. She hinted that the best present would be an envelope.”
Marina whistled.
“So that’s how people ask for gifts nowadays. In the old days they at least made a wish list. Now they just strap a cash register to their chest. Progress, Denis. You can’t stop it.”
He laughed, although not particularly cheerfully.
Later that evening, Tamara Ivanovna called.
The first strange thing was that she spent several minutes speaking sweetly and affectionately to Marina, something that had hardly ever happened during five years of marriage.
Then Marina handed the phone to Denis.
Tamara Ivanovna did not waste time with small talk.
“Denis, listen carefully. Sveta has drained herself completely. The mortgage is paid off, the renovation is more or less finished, but she barely has any furniture. So here’s what you’re going to do. At the restaurant, you pay for yourself and your wife. Understood? That’s all.”
Then she hung up.
Denis remained standing there with the phone in his hand, wearing the expression of a man who had just been informed that the Earth was square.
Marina had not heard everything, but one look at his face told her enough.
“Why are you standing there like that? Who died?”
“Common sense, apparently. Hold on. I’m calling my sister. Maybe Mom invented this herself.”
 
He called Svetlana.
She listened to his question and answered brightly, without the slightest trace of embarrassment.
“Yes, that’s right. Everyone pays for themselves. Everyone can order whatever they want. It’s fair that way. Nobody owes anybody anything.”
Denis lowered the phone and repeated the conversation to Marina.
At first, she laughed.
“You’re joking. Tell me this is a joke. They invite people to a restaurant, and then the guests pay their own bill?”
“It’s not a joke. Her exact words were: everyone orders for themselves and pays for themselves.”
“Wait.” Marina raised one finger. “We need to clarify the wording. This is important. Everyone orders their own food and eats what they personally ordered? Exactly like that?”
“Exactly. Word for word.”
“Wonderful.”
Marina smiled in a way that made Denis feel slightly uneasy.
“The hostess has announced the rules of the game. So we’ll play by those rules. Fairly. Right to the very end.”
Denis wanted to skip the celebration completely, but Marina talked him out of it.
The following day, Tamara Ivanovna called again and managed to make the situation even more ridiculous.
“And don’t forget about the furniture! You and Marina should put together fifty thousand rubles and give Svetochka an envelope. She needs the money.”
That evening, Denis paced around the room like a tiger trapped in a cage.
“Do you understand how insane this is? They invite us to a restaurant. We pay for our own dinner. And then we’re supposed to hand over another fifty thousand in an envelope! I already gave them my share of Grandfather’s house. Apparently that wasn’t enough! I’m calling her right now and telling her exactly what I think!”
“Easy, easy.”
Marina sat him down on the sofa.
“Shouting into the phone is for amateurs. We’re creative people. We’ll give them an envelope. Just not fifty thousand. Fifteen thousand. From the heart and within our means.”
“Fifteen? After this whole circus?”
“Denis, we’re not greedy. We’re fair. And fairness is fashionable now, remember? Your sister said so herself. Trust me.”
He looked at his wife and saw that familiar playful spark in her eyes.
He surrendered.
Whenever Marina smiled like that, arguing with her was pointless.
More importantly, it was never interesting.
Friday evening arrived.
 
The restaurant was elegant and lively.
Marina and Denis took seats slightly away from the main group, almost at their own private table in a comfortable corner beside the window.
They ordered good wine, appetizers, hot dishes, dessert.
Before long, their table looked fit for royalty.
At Svetlana’s main table, things were far more modest.
A few salads.
Inexpensive wine.
Nothing extravagant.
Every time a waiter brought another beautiful dish to Denis and Marina’s table, Svetlana glanced in their direction.
And each time, her expression grew darker.
Eventually Artyom could no longer resist.
He walked over, grinning broadly, and reached for the bottle of wine on their table.
“Oh, nice. A little brotherly assistance! You two have a much better selection over here.”
“Put it back,” Denis said calmly without even stopping as he cut his steak.
Artyom froze.
Denis continued:
“Your wife explained the rules very clearly. Everyone pays for themselves and eats what they ordered. We respect the rules. I recommend you do the same.”
“Oh, come on. We’re family.”
 
“Exactly,” Marina said sweetly. “That’s why we’re so careful about preserving family traditions. Especially the new ones. They’re only two days old, so they’re still fragile.”
Artyom slowly returned the bottle.
Then he walked away looking like someone had slammed a door on his pride.
Svetlana began whispering furiously into his ear.
From a distance, however, it almost looked affectionate.
Then came the moment for presents.
Guests approached one after another, handing over envelopes.
Denis and Marina did not stay on the sidelines.
Their envelope was the thickest of all.
Heavy.
Impressive.
Promising.
Svetlana opened it slightly and gasped.
Inside was an entire stack of five-thousand-ruble notes.
Her mood changed instantly.
She blossomed.
She kissed her brother enthusiastically and even gave Marina an almost sincere smile.
“Now that’s what I call family! That’s how relatives behave!”
Denis did not explain anything.
They were adults, after all.
Fair-minded adults.
They would figure it out themselves.
 
Eventually the evening came to an end.
Denis waved over the waiter.
“Could you please pack everything we didn’t finish? Put it all into takeaway containers. And we’ll take the unfinished bottle of wine as well. We paid for it.”
“Absolutely right,” Marina added loudly enough for the others to hear. “Everyone eats what they ordered. And finishes it later. Rules are rules.”
They congratulated Svetlana once more and left the restaurant happy, full, and carrying several bags of leftovers.
Meanwhile, Svetlana could barely control her excitement.
That whole stack of five-thousand-ruble notes!
How much money was in there?
The moment she and Artyom stepped outside the restaurant, they opened the envelope beneath a streetlight.
Artyom stared closely at one of the notes.
Then he went pale.
“Sveta… it says ‘not legal tender.’ These are souvenir notes. They’re fake. Just play money!”
Svetlana let out such a howl that pigeons flew off the roof.
“That bastard! That disgusting bastard! It wasn’t enough that he sat there eating delicacies right in front of me, now he humiliates me too! This was her idea! His snake of a wife planned this!”
She swung her arm and threw the entire stack into the trash bin by the entrance.
Once they got home and she had calmed down slightly, Svetlana called her brother.
At that very moment, Denis was standing outside his mother-in-law’s country house with a towel over one shoulder.
The sauna was already blazing hot.
“You bastard!” Svetlana screamed through the phone. “You tricked me! You gave me fake money!”
“Sveta, there’s no need to be so rude,” Denis replied with a yawn. “First of all, it wasn’t all fake. I put fifteen thousand in real money between the souvenir notes. It was meant to be a surprise. A little mystery. Sorry if you didn’t appreciate the joke. Anyway, my wife is calling me to the sauna and the steam is escaping. Kisses!”
He hung up.
Svetlana froze with the phone still pressed against her ear.
Real money.
 
There had been real money inside that stack.
Fifteen thousand rubles.
The same stack she had thrown away.
“ARTYOM!”
He flinched.
“Run! The trash bin outside the restaurant! There was fifteen thousand in there!”
Artyom got dressed in thirty seconds and raced halfway across the city.
But when he arrived, the trash bin outside the restaurant was empty.
The garbage had already been collected.
He ran around the area checking nearby containers.
He even reached elbow-deep into one filthy bin.
He stained his clothes and tore his sleeve.
The money was gone.
When he returned home, he was sweaty, dirty, exhausted, and empty-handed.
Svetlana took one look at him and understood everything.
Furious, she called her mother.
“Mom! Do you know what your son did?! He gave me fake money! It wasn’t a present, it was humiliation!”
At that exact moment, Artyom absent-mindedly patted the pocket of his jacket.
Svetlana noticed the movement immediately.
Her eyes narrowed.
She dropped the phone, grabbed his jacket, and shook it.
A thick bundle of notes fell onto the floor.
 
The same kind.
Souvenir money.
Svetlana stared at it.
“So-o-o…”
Her voice was terrifyingly quiet.
“So you did find it after all. And you told me you didn’t?”
With shaking hands, she went through the notes.
Every single one said “not legal tender.”
Not one real banknote.
“You stole them!” Svetlana screamed. “You took the real fifteen thousand and hid it! Thief!”
“Sveta, listen to me! That bundle was a joke gift from people at work last week! Everyone was laughing about it. It’s been sitting in my jacket ever since. This is a completely different bundle!”
“A different one?! Really? What a coincidence! Liar! You’re all the same! My brother is a bastard, his wife is a snake, she came up with the separate table, she came up with the fake money, and you’re a thief!”
Artyom stood in the middle of the room, dirty, exhausted, and crushed.
 
He realized that nothing he said would convince her.
Svetlana stormed through the newly purchased two-bedroom apartment, cursing everyone she could think of: her husband, her brother, her sister-in-law, fate itself.
Her voice echoed through the mostly empty rooms.
There was hardly any furniture, after all.
They had nothing to fill the apartment with.
And no money left to buy it.
At that very same hour, Denis stepped out of the sauna, red-faced, relaxed, and completely happy.
He sat down on the porch and breathed in the warm country air.
 
Marina came outside, draped a towel over his shoulders, and sat beside him.
Her mother brought them another plate of hot shashlik.
Somewhere beyond the fence, a nightingale was singing.
Marina laughed.
Denis put an arm around her shoulders.
And they both knew one thing for certain.
The evening had turned out perfectly.
And really, what more did anyone need to be happy?