“Syoma, are you sitting down?” Lida began, stepping over the kitchen threshold and pulling off her scarf. Having just returned from the notary’s office, she was still in a slight daze — her face showing a mixture of surprise and childlike joy, as if she had found an unexpected gift where she least expected one. “I think this news will shake you up a bit.”
“I’m just lying here as usual,” Semyon replied, stretched out on the couch with his phone in hand. Muffled bass beats of some loud but bland music leaked from his headphones. He didn’t even lift his eyes from the screen.
“Remember my cousin Aunt Masha? From Voronezh? We saw her a couple of times when I was very little.”
Semyon finally looked up slightly.
“Well, I think so… That old lady, always wearing a headscarf. What about her?”
“She died a few months ago. And…,” Lida paused to gather her thoughts, “she left me an inheritance. Not millions, of course, but a serious amount. Enough to pay off the car loan completely, and still have some left for repairs.”
“For repairs?” Semyon perked up, putting down his phone. His sleepy eyes suddenly lit up with interest. “So the money is actually there?”
Lida gave him a number. The man whistled through his teeth, imagining how much that was for their budget.
“Lidka, you’re a treasure! And I know exactly what to spend it on! Let’s buy a boat! A proper one, with a motor! Something respectable!”
He was already picturing himself on the water: fishing, a campfire, friends hanging out.
“Do you even realize how much such a toy costs? That’s almost everything we got. The roof at the dacha is leaking, the loan must be paid off first. This isn’t a toy, Syoma, it’s a luxury.”
But her husband was already lost in his own world.
“And the roof won’t go anywhere! But we could really relax! Like all men do. I’m not asking for much. Just want to feel a bit of life.”
Lida tried to keep calm, but inside irritation was starting to boil.
“This isn’t your or my opportunity. It’s our money. We need to allocate it wisely. A boat is not a priority. It’s a whim.”
“A whim?!” Semyon took offense. “For you, my rest is a whim? And you forgot that I work every day? I want something too. Maybe for once you’ll do something for me?”
“I want to do something sensible for the whole family,” Lida answered, trying not to raise her voice. “Not for anyone’s ego, but for real needs.”
“There you go again!” he flared up. “As soon as money appears, there are ‘more important’ things. And my desires are just dust underfoot. You thought I’d be happy, that you’d support me. But you’re back with your practicality.”
Semyon theatrically turned to the window, showing by his whole appearance how hurt he was. But Lida no longer felt joy or generosity. Only cold resentment and irritation.
“Didn’t expect that, huh?” she asked, crossing her arms. “What did you expect? That I’d immediately run to buy you a toy? That I’d forget about the leaking roof, about the loan weighing on us with monthly interest? You think I don’t want you to be well? But not at this cost.”
Semyon snapped around, ready for a verbal counterattack.
“What does the roof and loan have to do with this? I’m not talking about them! I want you to understand me. To put yourself in my place. All normal men have their hobbies, their escape. Petka, for example, is at the river every weekend, and his wife even gives him a thermos with tea and sandwiches. And you? Immediately: ‘toy,’ ‘luxury,’ ‘unnecessary expense’! You want to control everything, schedule everything as convenient for you!”
Lida slowly raised her eyes. The calmness was gone — now her gaze burned with irritation, ready to burst out.
“First of all, don’t compare me to Petka’s wife. You have different circumstances. Your salary isn’t like his, and our house leaks like a sieve. And this money is not a stroke of luck, it’s a chance. A chance to improve our life a bit. And I won’t allow it to be wasted on some random fantasy. Especially when you yourself haven’t addressed our pressing problems for years.”
Semyon started to blush. Every word rang like a blow to a sore spot.
“Now you’re going to accuse me? I work, by the way! Not some layabout! It’s just that you always find a reason to spend on the wrong things!”
“What do you mean ‘wrong’?” Lida smirked. “On food? Clothes for the kids? Utilities? Or on the car you bought, but somehow I’m the one paying for it?”
“Stop lumping everything together!” Semyon waved his hand, trying to throw her off balance. “We’re talking about a boat. About how a man should have something of his own — for rest, for image, for that matter. It’s not just a piece of metal with a motor — it’s a status, you know? Respect among people. When you have something like that, people treat you differently.”
Lida stood in front of him at full height. Her voice was calm but full of inner strength:
“Respect? From whom? From your buddies bragging about their pike catches? Is that more important than the fact that our roof leaks, we have no reserves, and we live paycheck to paycheck? This money could have been a support. But you want to turn it into a toy for the sake of someone’s opinion?”
“Why do you keep fixating on these problems?!” Semyon raised his voice. “I want to allow myself something once in my life — and immediately I get: control, savings, restrictions! I guess you like it when I’m dependent on you. That’s why you pressure me now, because you can. Just out of your greed and stinginess!”
That word — “greed” — hit harder than any shout. Lida froze. All those years of work, sacrifice, constant calculation — and this was the reply. From the person she shared many years with.
“I really don’t care,” she said coldly, “about your boat. No one needs it. Neither me, nor the kids, nor our family. I see no rest in it. Only another foolishness for which you’re ready to throw away the last free money.”
“But it’s for the family!” he insisted.
“For what family?” Lida stepped forward. “The one where the roof leaks, where every month you wonder if there’s enough money for utilities? Where I have to count every kopek, and you buy the next ‘joy’ at my expense?”
“Enough about the dacha already!” Semyon was nearly shouting. “A boat is something else entirely! It’s for the soul!”
“My soul asks for a dry roof over my head, not your rides on the river with friends!” she snapped. “If for you ‘soulful’ means throwing money away on something that solves nothing but your ego, then yes — I don’t care about that at all.”
“So, that means I’m not allowed anything?” he gasped indignantly.
“No, Semyon, not everything. Especially if you don’t understand the difference between whim and real needs. You’ve gotten used to me doing everything, solving everything. But with this money — no. This is not your money. It’s not a bonus from your employer. It’s my inheritance. And I decide how to spend it.”
Semyon’s face turned almost purple, his teeth clenched, fists tightened. He clearly searched for words to hit back. But Lida wasn’t going to continue this conversation.
“My money?!” Semyon shouted as if those words burned him from inside. His face twisted in rage, he practically loomed over Lida, breathing heavily in her face. “So that’s how you are now? As soon as you get some money — it’s ‘mine’! But when I brought the salary home for years and you managed it as the housewife — that was ‘ours’? When I racked my brains how to make ends meet — was that also ‘shared’? And now here you are — your greed exposed!”
Lida stood her ground. Not a step back. She felt his aggression physically — a dense, hot wall. But instead of fear, another wave rose inside — cold, collected rage.
“Did you work?” Her voice was calm but steel-cold. “Semyon, let’s remember who really worked in this family while you played at finding yourself. Who worked nights for two years to pay the apartment when you quit your job and declared yourself a ‘free artist’? Who collected the leftover money so the kids could go to camp when you lost our savings in some shady investments?”
Every word hit its mark. He flinched like he was struck. Tried to say something, but Lida didn’t give him a chance.
“Or do you remember that time when we were already at the sea, and you forgot to buy tickets because you spent everything on an expensive new fishing rod? I had to humiliate myself in front of friends, borrow money so the kids could see the sea at least once. Is that your idea of caring for the family?”
Her voice didn’t tremble. Inside, pain boiled — long years of patience, silent resentment, unspoken claims. The boat was the last straw. Now she spoke out loud what she’d held inside too long.
“You’ve always been like this, Semyon. Self-absorbed, irresponsible child. For you, the main thing is your own desires. The rest doesn’t matter. I don’t need your male ego if it costs more than our comfort. I’m tired of being your financial lifeline. I have my own opinion, my own choice. And yes — this is my money. Because it was left to me, not earned by your ‘efforts.’”
“You’re just a jealous bitch!” he yelled. “You don’t care about me! You always wanted to control me, to show you’re the boss! Well, know this: I won’t let you command me!”
He clenched his fists. Lida saw he was on the edge, his anger becoming dangerous. But no fear came.
“What will you do, Semyon?” she calmly asked. “Hit me? Go ahead, show everyone how you ‘manly’ solve problems. Surely you can brag about that to Petka.”
Semyon froze. Something like doubt flashed in his eyes. He wasn’t used to such resistance. Before, she was silent, yielded, tried to soften the situation. Today — no.
“You never appreciated me,” he rasped. “Always unhappy. I’m human, I want to be understood, loved…”
“Love isn’t bought with money, Semyon,” Lida replied, bitterness creeping into her voice. “Love is built on respect. And you don’t even know what I want. Never asked. For you, I was just background, the service staff of your wellbeing. But enough. This phase is over.”
She headed for the door. The air in the room thickened with hatred, pain, and finality. Semyon watched her go and realized for the first time — this is not just a quarrel. This is the end. And this thought sparked a new wave of rage in him.
“Where do you think you’re going? Planning to leave and disgrace me to the whole house?” Semyon shouted. “Decided to solve everything for both of us? Do you even know what you’re doing? This money could have been the foundation for something bigger! Not your personal stash, but our common wellbeing!”
Lida turned slowly. Her face was pale but calm — the kind of calmness someone has when they’ve made a decision and no longer doubt.
“Did you contribute to that ‘common wellbeing,’ Semyon?” she asked softly, but there was no warmth in her voice. “Do you remember when you last brought something besides problems? When you solved a problem yourself instead of passing it on to me? This money is mine. And I decide how to spend it. Not for your ambitions. Not for your status among idlers like yourself.”
The words “your ambitions” hit his pride painfully. He flinched as if struck.
“You don’t like my ambitions?” he hissed through his teeth. “Well, dear, the desire to have something of my own, normal, masculine — that’s not ambition, that’s a normal need. And you apparently can’t understand that. For you, the only things that matter are the roof, loans, and some meters. There’s nothing alive in you. Only numbers and calculations. So grounded it’s impossible. Living with you is like being in accounting.”
“Maybe it is,” she shrugged. “Maybe I’m too down-to-earth, too practical. But I’m not ashamed of it. I’m ashamed that for years I allowed you to live at my expense, thinking it was your right. A boat is not a goal, Semyon. It’s a symbol. A symbol that you never saw me as an equal partner. Only as an income source, a mommy, and a doormat.”
He hesitated. For the first time, Lida spoke so directly, without looking back, without softening her words.
“You don’t care anymore, do you?” he spat, feeling the ground vanish beneath him. “About the family, about us… Because of some boat?”
“No, Semyon,” she answered firmly. “Not because of the boat. Because of you. Because of your attitude to me, our kids, our life. The boat is just an excuse. The last straw. You think I destroyed everything? Who has been corroding our marriage from inside every day? Who turned me into a financial safety net that must solve everything, forgive everything, and endure everything?”
Her voice was steady, but every word cut like a knife.
“You think this is love?” she continued. “It’s not love. It’s dependence. I was your ATM, your support, your conscience. And you never cared what I want. What I need. I had dreams too. But they were always second to your whims.”
Semyon opened his mouth but found no words. For the first time in many years, he felt he lost control. Not over the situation — over life.
“Do you really want to destroy everything?” he asked hoarsely. “For this?”
“I don’t want to destroy,” Lida replied. “I want to start living. For real. Without constant fear of tomorrow, without having to justify every penny spent. I want to feel like the mistress of my life. Not your financial insurance.”
She paused, then added:
“I’m not your ATM, Semyon. I’m a person. And now I will live for myself. Like you once said. Only for you it was called ‘living for yourself,’ and for me — ‘providing for myself.’”
Semyon was silent. He realized this was the end. Not just a quarrel, not just a misunderstanding — everything. And this thought filled him with a panic he could not control.
“We’re a family…” he whispered.
“We were,” she answered. “And now — the past. You stopped being a husband long ago. Now I stop being a wife.”
She turned and left, leaving him alone in the thick silence of the kitchen, where the smells of yesterday’s dinner and the bitterness of final farewell still lingered.
Semyon stood in the middle of the room. His gaze blurred, thoughts fluttering like frightened birds. He felt something inside break. Whether it was his heart, his confidence, or the connection to the life he was so used to.
And at that moment, he understood: he was truly alone.
Just like he always lived — at someone else’s expense, by someone else’s effort, living someone else’s life.
Only now — that other life was gone.