On Saturday, Asya was planning to sleep in until at least nine, but at 8:23 her phone started buzzing insistently on the nightstand. Still barely awake, she fumbled for it, saw an unfamiliar number, and hung up. Half a minute later, they called again.
“Anastasia Sergeyevna? Good morning. I’m calling regarding the delivery of a massage chair. I wanted to check if you could receive it on Wednesday after 4 p.m.?”
Asya sat up in bed.
“Receive what?”
The man patiently repeated himself:
“A massage chair. The order is for Leonid Pavlovich, but your number was also listed as a contact. It’s a large model, weighs over a hundred kilos, so we’re coordinating the delivery time and carrying it up in advance.”
She was fully awake now.
“You must have the wrong person.”
“Let me check.”
She could hear keys clicking on the other end for a few seconds.
“No, the number is correct. The order is for Leonid Vorontsov. Delivery address: Sadovaya Street. The total cost is 187,000; 10,000 has been paid, the rest is due upon delivery.”
Her first thought was: scammers.
Any moment now, they’d tell her she needed to urgently cancel the order, for which she’d need to provide a code from a message, then her card number, her grandmother’s maiden name, and ideally, where the family jewels are stored.
“Who’s the customer?” Asya asked.
“Leonid Vorontsov.”
Now the scam version seemed less likely.
For the past seven years, Leonid Vorontsov had been sleeping next to her, occupying half the closet, forgetting spoons in sour cream jars, and making a habit of starting home repairs on Sunday evenings. There was only one such person in the family.
“Don’t deliver anything on Wednesday for now,” Asya said. “The customer will contact you.”
She put down the phone and stared at the closed bedroom door for a few seconds.
The sound of running water came from the kitchen. Then a cup clinked.
Leonid was already up.
Asya pulled on her robe and went to find out how a chair worth almost two hundred thousand rubles had suddenly appeared in their lives—something she learned about even before brushing her teeth.
She found her husband by the coffee machine. Eggs sizzled in a frying pan, a loaf of bread lay open nearby, and Leonid himself didn’t look at all like a man who had to explain a purchase the size of half their living room.
“I just got a call about a massage chair,” Asya said.
Leonid froze for just a second, then calmly continued pouring coffee.
“Oh, they’re scheduling the delivery already?”
His calmness was astounding.
“That’s what you want to comment on?”
“What else?”
Asya leaned against the doorframe.
“Lenya, let’s try this again. A stranger called me and said a massage chair worth 187,000 rubles will be delivered to us on Wednesday. The order was placed by my husband. I want to know why.”
“It’s not coming here.”
“That’s a relief, at least.”
“It’s for Mom.”
Now everything made more sense—and became much stranger at the same time.
For months, Rimma Nikolaevna had been talking about her neighbor Zoya Viktorovna, who bought a massage chair and practically stopped complaining about her back. According to Leonid’s mother-in-law, Zoya would sit in it for twenty minutes in the evening and then ‘come out a different person.’
Asya didn’t get too worked up over stories like this. According to Rimma Nikolaevna, Zoya Viktorovna was simply lucky in every possible way. She was the first in their building to get a robot vacuum, then a steam mop, after that a dryer, and now, it seemed, a chair that could apparently replace a physiotherapist, a spa retreat, and a good vacation all rolled into one.
In two weeks, Rimma Nikolaevna would be turning sixty-five.
A big birthday present for her anniversary seemed perfectly logical.
There was just one unclear little detail—the money.
“Okay,” Asya said. “So you bought your mom a chair. But how are you going to pay for it?”
Leonid finally set his cup down.
“Your bonus is coming next week, isn’t it?”
At first, Asya figured that was the end of his sentence.
It turned out—it wasn’t.
“So?”
“So that’s it. The amount is almost exactly enough.”
Asya slowly sat down at the table.
“Lenya, what does my bonus have to do with a chair for your mom?”
Her husband sighed, as if explaining obvious things on a Saturday morning was just too much to handle.
“Asenka, it’s not our last money. The bonus is extra, not part of our salary. We weren’t counting on it; it’s not in the family budget. Our salaries stay the same. The mortgage is paid, utilities are covered. The family won’t be worse off.”
“Wait. Am I part of the family?”
“Here we go.”
“No, I really want to know. If the family won’t be worse off when my bonus disappears, then who am I in all of this? The invited accountant?”
Leonid grimaced.
“You’re nitpicking the wording.”
“I haven’t even started nitpicking yet. I just woke up.”
He turned off the stove and put the eggs onto two plates. Clearly, he was hoping this conversation would be shorter.
It wasn’t.
Asya really was expecting a hefty bonus this year. For the past four months her department had been wrapping up a project that involved upgrading several distribution warehouses. Asya was in charge of coordinating contractors and managing paperwork. She’d worked a couple of Saturdays, stayed late until nine a few times, and in October, for three days in a row, had dinner with whatever she could grab near the office.
At the start of the month, her boss had already told her the preliminary bonus amount—about two hundred thousand in hand.
Asya had started planning how to spend it long before it ever hit her account.
And Leonid knew all about those plans.
Her old laptop at home was eight years old and had a mind of its own. To get it to turn on the first time took either a stroke of cosmic luck or a gentle tap near the case. The battery lasted about twenty-five minutes, and the fan sounded like a tiny helicopter was about to take off inside.
Asya wanted to buy a new one for around seventy-five thousand, put a hundred and twenty into savings, and keep the small leftover balance on her card.
She and her husband had discussed this plan about three weeks ago.
Back then, Leonid had even given his approval:
“You’ve needed a new laptop for ages. This one’s going to start smoking one day.”
And now, it turned out that instead of a new laptop, Asya had almost bought her mother-in-law a piece of furniture with massage rollers for her calves.
“Did you forget about my plans?” she asked.
“I didn’t forget.”
“Then what happened?”
Leonid clearly didn’t think he had done anything especially terrible, so he just told the whole story as it happened.
Last Sunday, he visited his mother. She started talking again about Zoya Viktorovna and her amazing armchair. Then she showed him similar models she found online. Leonid sat down with her, searched a bit, found an even better option, and suggested they go to the showroom together.
They picked out a few choices, and the next day after work, they went to the showroom.
Rimma Nikolaevna tried sitting in one chair, then another, settled on a model with heated footrests, and decided she preferred the upholstery where dust would be less noticeable.
Leonid put down a ten thousand deposit and arranged for delivery.
So, it wasn’t even just a spur-of-the-moment online click.
He actually went there.
Checked everything out.
Made his selection.
Paid for it.
And during all this time, it never once crossed his mind to call his wife, even though he planned to use her bonus.
“Does your mom know this is a gift from you?” Asya asked.
“Of course.”
“And does she know that I’m the one paying for it?”
At that moment, Leonid suddenly got busy with the bread.
“Does it really matter where the money comes from within the family?”
Asya looked at him with new interest.
“Wonderful thought. Please remember it. We’ll come back to it later.”
She barely touched her breakfast.
Asya wasn’t even mad about the chair specifically. If Leonid had come to her beforehand and said, “It’s mom’s birthday, I want to get her an expensive gift, let’s think about it together,” they really could have figured something out.
They could have gotten her a nice chair that was a bit simpler. They could have pooled money with Leonid’s sister. They could have saved up part of the amount in advance. And, at the very least, they could have asked Rimma Nikolaevna what she actually needed.
But Leonid went with the most convenient option.
He would get to be the generous son.
Asya would be the one paying.
At the same time, Leonid earned a decent income. Not enough to easily drop two hundred thousand without planning, but also not so little that he should be dependent on his wife.
They had a simple budget system. After their wedding, they put all their money together for almost a year, but quickly realized it only made them annoyed at each other. So, they agreed that every month they’d both transfer a set amount into a joint account. That’s where the mortgage on their two-bedroom apartment, groceries, utility bills, the family car, household purchases, and other shared expenses came out of.
Whatever was left from their salaries was theirs to keep.
And bonuses, too.
Leonid especially liked this rule. Thanks to it, he could freely buy equipment for his hobby, change gadgets, and avoid explaining to Asya why another bike accessory cost as much as a good vacuum cleaner.
Asya never kept tabs on his spending.
Which is exactly why her husband’s new financial philosophy sounded especially surprising now.
“I’ll cancel the order,” she said. “Actually, you’ll cancel it.”
Leonid frowned.
“Mom already knows.”
“Perfect. You can call her and explain that you acted too quickly.”
“She’ll be upset.”
“Maybe.”
“Asyun, she’s sixty-five. She’s worked her whole life for us. I just wanted to give her a nice gift.”
“Go ahead.”
“With what money?”
“With your own.”
Leonid fell silent.
And that’s when they realized the real problem: Leonid didn’t actually have the one hundred eighty-seven thousand of his own.
In fact, he barely had any extra money at all.
He’d already mentally allocated his salary for the month: some would go to necessary expenses, a smaller gift for his mother, new winter boots, credit card payments, and he was hoping to upgrade his bike by spring.
“So you picked out the chair already knowing you wouldn’t pay for it yourself?” Asya clarified.
“I knew you were getting a bonus.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“What’s the big deal? We’re husband and wife.”
“Wonderful. Then next time, I’ll pick out a bike for myself and pay with your money. I’m a husband and wife too, apparently.”
Leonid snorted but stuck to his point.
They didn’t bring it up again for the rest of the day. Asya took care of chores, went grocery shopping, and called her sister. Leonid tinkered with the car in the courtyard and only came back in the evening.
Around seven, Rimma Nikolaevna called.
Her mother-in-law opened cheerfully:
“Asenka, Lyonya said they’ve already called about the delivery.”
“They have.”
“I’m thinking, maybe not Wednesday after all? Lidochka’s supposed to visit me on Wednesday, and by the time they bring it up and put it together… How about Thursday instead?”
Asya sat on the armrest of the sofa.
“Rimma Nikolaevna, you’d better coordinate the delivery with Leonid. It’s his gift.”
“But you’re a family.”
Family again.
By the end of the day, that word was starting to gain remarkable financial flexibility.
“Family,” Asya agreed.
“Then why is Leonid gloomy all day? He already called and told me something’s wrong with the chair.”
Asya decided not to get her mother-in-law involved in the details.
“He just rushed the order a bit.”
But Rimma Nikolaevna had a way of unwrapping details even from a sealed package.
Five minutes later, she understood enough to get offended.
“I never asked anyone for anything,” she said. “Lyonya offered this himself.”
“I know.”
“But if it’s only about the money, you didn’t have to make such a fuss. Money’s here today, gone tomorrow. People used to live much more simply.”
Asya smiled.
“Probably.”
“These days, young people count every penny. Honestly, it’s unpleasant. Once in a while, you could do something nice for an older person.”
At this, Asya couldn’t help but laugh.
Not out of malice. More at the absurdity of the whole situation.
“Fine, call me stingy! But I’m not giving up my bonus for that chair.”
The other end of the line suddenly went quiet.
Asya continued, more calmly now:
“Especially for a gift I didn’t choose, didn’t promise, and only found out about from the courier. If Leonid wants to gift you a chair, I’m all for it. But buying it with my money, without my consent—that’s a completely different matter.”
Rimma Nikolaevna clearly hadn’t expected this response.
“I didn’t know it was exactly your money.”
“Now you do.”
“Lyonya told me he had it all handled.”
“Well, discuss with him exactly what he handled.”
After the call, Leonid walked into the room.
He’d heard all of it.
“You could’ve been gentler.”
“You could’ve asked me before placing the order.”
“Now Mom thinks you begrudged her the money.”
“Lyonya, I never promised her anything in the first place.”
He sat down across from her.
“Just so you know, I bought you a phone last year.”
Asya even tilted her head.
“And?”
“Nothing.”
“No, go on. I’m really curious how the phone is connected to my annual bonus.”
“It’s just, you’re making it sound like I’ve never done anything for you.”
“The phone was a birthday present. You picked it out, bought it, and gave it to me. But that doesn’t mean I’ve signed over all my future earnings to you afterward.”
Leonid buried his face in his hands.
“Sometimes it’s impossible to talk to you.”
“But it makes buying chairs really convenient.”
He was about to leave when Asya suddenly remembered something.
“Wait. The courier said ten thousand was paid.”
“Yeah.”
“From where?”
“Does it matter?”
“Now it does.”
Leonid didn’t answer right away.
Asya picked up her phone.
“Open our joint account.”
“Why?”
“Lyona.”
She could tell what happened just by looking at his face before he even opened the banking app.
Ten thousand had been taken from the savings in their joint account. The same one where they’d been slowly saving up for the annual car insurance over the past few months.
There were still three weeks left to pay. There was enough money before, but now they were exactly ten thousand short.
Asya looked at her husband.
“So the first part of the gift wasn’t even yours either.”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“When?”
“With my salary.”
“Which one?”
“The next one.”
“And the chair?”
“With the bonus.”
“My bonus.”
“Yeah, I got it already.”
Now Asya really took out her calculator.
Leonid got suspicious.
“What are you calculating?”
“Our new financial model.”
“What model?”
“A very convenient one. You showed it to me today, and I just want to understand it better.”
She opened her notes app.
“So, for your birthday I’ll buy myself a coffee machine. A good one. You’ll be happy your wife finally has decent coffee, right?”
“What does my birthday have to do with it?”
“Don’t interrupt. For your mom’s birthday, I’ll buy a new laptop. But I’ll make sure to say it’s from her. She’ll appreciate that.”
Leonid was starting to see where this was all going.
“That’s not even comparable.”
“Why not? We’re family. It’s all family money, what’s the difference?”
“Asya…”
“And for New Year’s, with your annual bonus, I’ll treat myself to three days at a nice hotel with a spa. I’ll send you a picture of the pool so you can feel included.”
Leonid tried to keep a straight face, but his lips began to twitch.
Asya went on:
“I also suggest that for your boss’s birthday, you buy me earrings. After all, he’s the one paying your salary, and I’m grateful to him for that.”
“Enough.”
“Why? The system is just starting to show its potential.”
He was laughing now.
“You’re crazy.”
“And one last thing. What color laptop would your mom like to give me?”
That’s when Leonid totally gave up.
He leaned back on the couch and laughed so hard he had to take off his glasses.
“Alright. I get it. Enough.”
“No, you’ve only just started laughing.”
“I’ll cancel the chair.”
“Now you get it.”
But it turned out that cancelling wasn’t as pleasant as placing the order.
The next day, Leonid called the manager. The chair had already been moved from the central warehouse to their city for their specific order, and the ten thousand they’d paid was now a transportation fee that was non-refundable after the move.
Leonid argued for about fifteen minutes.
Then he read the documents again—the same ones he’d agreed to when placing the order.
That evening, he shared the news:
“The ten thousand’s gone.”
Asya just shrugged.
“Yours.”
“It was from the joint account, actually.”
“Then pay it back.”
He didn’t argue.
After his next paycheck, Leonid really did transfer ten thousand to the family savings account. Asya saw the transfer but didn’t say anything. What mattered to her most wasn’t that he had lost money, but that for the first time in this whole situation, he took responsibility for fixing the consequences of his own decision.
Things were tougher with his mother.
Rimma Nikolaevna didn’t call her son for two days. Then she started calling everyone else.
Asya found out about it from her sister-in-law Katya.
“Hang in there,” Katya said, barely holding back laughter. “Mom has already told Aunt Alla that you didn’t want to spend money on an elderly person’s health.”
“I’m already mentally preparing to go down in family history as Anastasia the Stingy.”
“Did the chair really cost one hundred eighty-seven?”
“It did.”
“And how much did Lyonya have?”
“Ten thousand. And that was our joint money.”
Katya fell silent.
“Wait. I thought he bought it himself.”
“That’s what everyone thought.”
At that point, Asya asked to drop the subject. She didn’t want to set up a family court against her husband.
But the family court seemed to convene just fine without her.
Rimma Nikolaevna complained to her sister Alla Sergeyevna. At first, Alla enthusiastically agreed that women these days are too independent and “that’s not how it should be in a family.”
Then, for some reason, she called Leonid.
The conversation was brief.
“Is it true you canceled the chair?”
“I did.”
“Not enough money?”
“Not enough.”
“And Asya didn’t give it?”
“Aunt Alla, let’s not do this.”
Unlike her sister, Alla Sergeyevna could put two and two together.
“Wait. How much were you yourself planning to pay?”
Leonid, for some reason, answered honestly.
After that, the vibe among the relatives changed dramatically.
That evening, Rimma Nikolaevna called her son again, irritated but for a different reason this time.
“You could’ve just told me you didn’t have the money.”
“I thought I’d figure something out.”
“How exactly?”
“Mom, let’s drop it now.”
“No, I’m really curious. You took me to the store, told me to pick something out, I bragged to Zoya. Meanwhile, you were hoping Asya would pay?”
After this conversation, Leonid paced the apartment for about twenty minutes.
“Now I’m the bad guy for everyone.”
Asya looked up from her old laptop, which had just decided to freeze during an update.
“Not for everyone. Zoya Viktorovna still doesn’t know anything yet.”
“Very funny.”
“Thank you, I tried.”
By the anniversary, the whole chair story had finally quieted down a bit.
Leonid bought his mother great wireless headphones for TV, a warm bathrobe, and paid for a family dinner at a restaurant with his sister. All of it came out to a sum he could actually afford from his own savings.
Asya picked out her own gift separately.
She absolutely didn’t want to come to Rimma Nikolaevna empty-handed or, worse, buy something pointless for five hundred just for show. That would come off not as protecting her boundaries but as petty revenge.
So when her bonus arrived a week later, Asya did exactly what she’d planned from the beginning.
First, she transferred one hundred twenty thousand into her savings account.
Then, in the evening, she ordered a laptop. Not the most expensive one, but a good one: fast, lightweight, with a decent battery, and no need to tap it to turn it on.
When Leonid saw the box, he turned it over in his hands.
— So this is why Mom ended up without a chair.
— No, Mom lost her chair because her son ordered something for one hundred eighty-seven thousand when he only had ten. The laptop has nothing to do with it.
— I see you’ve got your explanation ready.
— I had a four-month-long project. I know how to prepare.
Asya left the remainder of her bonus on her card, and on her way home Friday, she stopped by a medical equipment store.
There, she bought Rimma Nikolaevna a simple back massager for about three thousand rubles. No space-age design, no foot warmer, and no delivery from movers.
She gave it to her in person at the birthday party.
— This is from me. I thought, since your back really bothers you, it might come in handy.
At first, Rimma Nikolaevna seemed a bit confused.
In recent days, she had clearly expected that they would enter a long period of cold war between them.
Then she opened the box and looked at the attachments.
— Oh, Sveta has one like this. She says it’s great.
Asya resisted asking who Sveta was and what else she had.
— If you don’t like it, I have the receipt. We can exchange it.
— Thank you.
And that was it.
There was no dramatic reconciliation. Rimma Nikolaevna didn’t publicly admit to the relatives that she’d been wrong. Asya didn’t make a speech about financial boundaries.
They ate salads, wished happy birthday to the guest of honor, took pictures together, and then Leonid helped his mother carry the gifts to the car.
And a week later, Rimma Nikolaevna called Asya herself.
— Your massager is actually quite nice. Yesterday, I used it for ten minutes and then fell asleep.
— Just don’t fall asleep with it still on.
— I know, it says so in the instructions.
After a brief pause, she added:
— That chair was really beautiful, though.
— I believe you.
— But one hundred eighty-seven is a lot of money, of course.
For Rimma Nikolaevna, this was almost an official peace agreement.
With Leonid, the story took longer to resolve.
For a couple more weeks, he would occasionally call his wife stingy.
But now, there was no hint of resentment.
When Asya refused to order takeout and made pasta from whatever was at home, Leonid peeked into the pot:
— I see. The stinginess is getting worse.
— Take care of yourself. Soon, I’ll start turning off the water while you’re lathering up.
When she bought a pack of coffee on sale, he nodded:
— It all started with the chair. Now there’s no turning back.
Asya didn’t mind.
She actually liked that word.
Especially after a small scene happened in December that Leonid probably didn’t even notice.
Rimma Nikolaevna sent him a link to an expensive foot massager. No request, just a message: “Look at this cool thing I found.”
Asya was sitting next to him on the couch and saw the message.
Before, Leonid would have immediately checked the family account, figured out their upcoming income, and only then thought about how to surprise his mother.
This time, he looked at the price, opened his own bank card, and did some calculations.
— No, I can’t afford that right now, — he said. — I’ll pick something else for New Year’s.
Asya didn’t say anything.
Leonid looked up.
— Not even a word of praise?
— For what?
— I just managed not to spend your bonus.
— Such incredible willpower.
— Exactly.
He put away his phone, then remembered:
“By the way, you’re so stingy. What should I get you for New Year’s?”
“Money.”
“Of course you’d say that.”
“Preferably your own.”
Leonid burst out laughing.
Alya joined in too.
Her new laptop sat on the table, turning on with just one press of a button. The first bit of interest had already appeared in her savings account. The ten thousand she’d put down as a deposit was long back in the family fund.
Meanwhile, the massage chair had probably been snapped up by someone else.
Maybe by someone who actually had the money to begin with.
And Alya honestly wasn’t bothered that she’d been called “stingy” in this story.
If being stingy meant not letting a grown man play the generous son with his wife’s bonus, then she was perfectly fine living with that label.