Olga sank onto the sofa, massaging her temples after a long workday. First eight hours at the office, then another four—moonlighting as an accountant for an acquaintance’s small business. It had been like this for three years straight. The apartment was quiet; only the refrigerator hummed monotonously in the kitchen.
The front door slammed—Sergey was back. Olga didn’t even raise her head, continuing to rub her temples. Her husband walked into the kitchen and clattered the dishes.
“Ol, are you going to have dinner?” Sergey called from the kitchen.
“No appetite,” Olga answered without opening her eyes.
They had been married for seven years. Seven years that had begun with hopes and promises and turned into an endless string of arguments and unspoken grievances. Olga remembered their wedding—how happy they had been then. Sergey had sworn he would be her rock and protector. Where were those vows now?
The apartment had come to Olga from her grandmother even before the wedding. Two rooms, a good neighborhood, a view of the park. Olga guarded this home like the apple of her eye—the one real anchor in her life. At the insurance company the pay was steady but not generous. That was why she had to work evenings as well.
Sergey came into the room with a plate of pasta.
“Worked late again?” he asked, settling into the armchair opposite her.
“What else can I do? You know we’re saving for renovations, and I’d like a proper vacation—not at your mother’s dacha.”
Sergey winced at the mention of his mother. Nina Ivanovna—another story entirely. Her mother-in-law showed up at their place with enviable regularity, always with complaints about her health and poverty. And those visits always ended the same way—Sergey gave his mother money.
“By the way, Mom’s coming tomorrow,” Sergey tossed out, as if in passing.
Olga’s eyes flew open.
“Again? She was here two weeks ago!”
“What can I do? Her blood pressure’s acting up; she wants to see a doctor.”
“She can see a doctor in her own town,” Olga muttered.
Sergey set his plate aside in irritation.
“Olya, that’s my mother! Is it really so hard to show a little understanding?”
Understanding. Olga gave a bitter smile. In seven years of marriage, Sergey had changed jobs five times. Either the boss was an idiot, or the team wasn’t right, or the salary was too small. Now he worked as a manager at a car dealership, but even there he had already started complaining.
Sergey’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and stepped into the hallway. Olga listened—it was Irina, her husband’s sister. That was another story, too. Thirty-two, two children by different fathers, constant debts and loans. And always one solution—a call to her brother.
Sergey came back into the room looking guilty. Olga understood at once.
“How much?” she asked wearily.
“Olga, why do you— Irina’s in a tough spot. The kids are getting ready for school, and her ex is late with alimony.”
“How much, Sergey?”
“Twenty thousand. But Irina promised to return it in a month!”
Olga sprang up from the sofa. Her hands trembled with anger.
“In a month? Like last time? And the time before that? Sergey, how much longer!”
“Olya, calm down. It’s family!”
“Family?” Olga’s voice broke. “And what am I? I work two jobs, pinch every penny, and your sister gets to sit around and live at our expense?”
“Irina works!” Sergey tried to defend his sister.
“Where? Doing what? Half-time as a sales clerk—is that work? Sergey, Irina has two healthy hands and feet. Let her go earn a living!”
Sergey scowled.
“You don’t understand. Irina has children…”
“Half the country has children! Should everyone live at someone else’s expense?”
Just then Olga remembered last month. That time Sergey had also “lent” fifteen thousand to his sister. And before that—ten to his mother. Olga started doing the math in her head—over the past year his relatives had “borrowed” more than two hundred thousand. Not a kopeck had been returned.
The next day, just as Sergey had promised, Nina Ivanovna arrived. For someone with high blood pressure, she looked rather spry—rosy-cheeked, in a new dress, with a professional blowout.
“Olechka, you’ve lost so much weight!” were her first words. “You don’t take care of yourself at all!”
Olga kept silent as she set the table. Her mother-in-law settled in comfortably and began her usual litany:
“Oh, life’s so hard now! Prices keep rising, my pension is tiny. I’m even thinking of finding a little side job…”
Sergey jumped right in.
“Mom, what side job at your age! We’ll help!”
Olga banged the kettle down on the table. Nina Ivanovna and Sergey looked at her in surprise.
“With what will we help, Sergey?” Olga asked coldly. “We barely have enough ourselves.”
“Olya!” her husband protested.
“What ‘Olya’? Nina Ivanovna, I’m sorry, but we can barely make ends meet. I work two jobs just to put a little aside.”
Her mother-in-law pursed her lips.
“In our day, women respected their husbands and put family first!”
“In your day, men supported their families,” Olga shot back. “They didn’t live off their wives!”
Sergey flushed crimson.
“Olya, watch your tone!”
“I’m telling the truth! Sergey, you changed jobs three times this past year! And each time by your own choice!”
“That’s not true!” he began to justify himself.
“Oh right, sorry. The last time you were fired for skipping work!”
Nina Ivanovna threw up her hands.
“Seryozhenka, what is she saying?”
“Mom, Olga is exaggerating…”
“Exaggerating?” Olga took a folder of receipts from the cabinet. “Here are the bills for the last six months. All paid from my card. Here’s the statement from our joint account—over the past year, Sergey deposited forty thousand. Forty! In a year!”
Her mother-in-law was silent, staring at the paperwork. Then she looked up at her daughter-in-law.
“But Sergey helps around the house…”
Olga laughed—sharp and bitter.
“Helps? Nina Ivanovna, when was the last time your son cooked dinner? Did the laundry? Cleaned?”
That evening, after her mother-in-law left, a heavy silence fell over the apartment. Sergey sat in an armchair, staring at the TV. Olga cleared the table, trying not to look at her husband.
“Why did you have to talk like that in front of my mother?” Sergey asked at last.
“And why does your mother meddle in our life?” Olga answered with a question.
“Olya, I get that you’re tired. But you can’t—”
“Can’t what? Tell the truth? Sergey, I can’t take it anymore! Every month it’s the same—either your mother needs something, or your sister!”
Sergey stood and came over to his wife.
“Olya, this is temporary. I’ll find a proper job…”
“When? When will you find this proper job? And how long will you keep it? A month? Two?”
Hurt flickered in his eyes.
“You don’t believe in me at all?”
Olga sank into a chair.
“I’m tired of believing, Sergey. Tired of hoping. Tired of carrying everything on my back.”
That night Olga couldn’t sleep. She lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking about her life. Thirty-two years old. Seven of them married. What next? Another seven years working for two? For three, counting the constant ‘loans’ to her husband’s relatives?
In the morning Olga woke up with a firm decision. Over breakfast she said to her husband:
“Sergey, we need to have a serious talk.”
He looked at her warily.
“About what?”
“About money. About your family. About us.”
Olga pulled out a sheet of paper where she had written down all the “debts” owed by his relatives the night before.
“Look. Over the last two years your mother has ‘borrowed’ a hundred and twenty thousand. Irina—one hundred and eighty. Total—three hundred thousand. Three hundred thousand, Sergey! That’s a huge amount!”
Sergey studied the list, frowning deeper and deeper.
“Where did you get these numbers?”
“I keep records. I write down every penny. Do you know how much has been returned? Zero!”
“Olga, relatives have tough situations sometimes…”
“Everyone does! But why should I be the one paying for them? Why is it that my parents feel embarrassed to call for help, while yours demand money as if it’s their right?”
Sergey was silent. Olga went on:
“I’ve made a decision. No more—not a single kopeck for your family. If you take money from our budget again without my consent, I’m filing for divorce.”
He went pale.
“You… you’re joking?”
“I’ve never been more serious. Sergey, I love you. But I refuse to live as a cash cow for your family any longer.”
Sergey jumped up from the table.
“So it’s an ultimatum?”
“Call it what you want. But I won’t tolerate this anymore.”
He left the kitchen, slamming the front door. Olga remained sitting, gazing out the window. It had started to rain.
An hour later Irina called. Olga didn’t pick up. Then Nina Ivanovna called. Ignore. In the evening Sergey returned—angry and drunk.
“Happy now?” he threw from the doorway. “Mom’s in the hospital, my sister’s hysterical!”
“That’s their problem,” Olga replied calmly.
“You… you’re just selfish!”
“Maybe. But I’m a selfish person with my own money.”
Sergey stepped right up to her.
“You think I can’t manage without you? Think you’re irreplaceable?”
Olga met his gaze.
“Try. The apartment is mine, in case you forgot.”
The following days passed in a “cold war.” Sergey ostentatiously refused to speak to his wife and slept on the sofa. His relatives called several times a day, but Olga didn’t answer.
On Friday evening, Olga came home to find Nina Ivanovna and Irina in the apartment. The women were sitting in the kitchen; Sergey stood by the window.
“What an interesting gathering,” Olga noted. “Do you often get together in my apartment without an invitation?”
“Olga, we came to talk,” Nina Ivanovna began.
“I’m listening.”
“You’re destroying the family!” Irina blurted out. “Over some money!”
Olga laughed.
“Over ‘some’? Irina, in two years you’ve pulled almost two hundred thousand out of our budget! Those are my ‘some’ money!”
“But I’ll pay it back!”
“When? Name a date!”
Irina hesitated.
“Well… when I can…”
“Which means never. Irina, you’re thirty-two! Go get a job!”
“I have kids!”
“So what? Millions of women raise children and work! You’re the one sitting on your brother’s neck. Or rather, on mine!”
Nina Ivanovna stood up.
“How dare you talk like that! We are Sergey’s family!”
“And I’m Sergey’s wife!” Olga stood up as well. “And I will no longer support healthy, able-bodied adults!”
“Seryozha, say something!” his mother appealed to him.
Sergey was silent, looking out the window. Finally he turned around.
“Mom, Irina, go home. Olga and I need to talk.”
When the relatives left, Sergey sat down across from his wife.
“Olga, maybe you’re right. But they’re my family. I can’t abandon them.”
“I’m not asking you to abandon them. I’m asking you not to spend MY money on THEIR whims.”
“But I don’t have any money of my own!”
“Exactly. Sergey, find a proper job, hold onto it, earn your own money—and help them as much as you like!”
He lowered his head.
“You’re making me choose—between you and my family.”
“No. I’m giving you a choice—either you become a real man and the head of this family, or we part ways.”
That night Olga sat by the window, looking at the sleeping city. There was a strange emptiness inside her. No pain, no resentment—just emptiness. As if something important had ended.
In the morning Sergey packed his things.
“I’ll stay with my mother for now,” he said. “I need to think.”
Olga nodded. She no longer had the strength to argue, to persuade, to explain.
When the door closed behind her husband, Olga felt… relief. For the first time in many months. As if a heavy stone had fallen from her shoulders.
That evening Olga sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea. Silence. No one was calling, asking for money, throwing tantrums. Only silence and peace.
Olga understood there was a difficult conversation ahead, possibly a divorce. But right now, in this moment, she felt free. Free from other people’s debts, problems, and manipulations.
One thing she knew for sure—whatever Sergey decided, Olga would never again allow her life to be turned into a wallet for other people’s needs. Enough. It was time to live for herself.