My husband brought a young woman into our home and said, “She’s the mistress here now.” I nodded and handed her a black envelope.

The door slammed with indifferent loudness, cutting off the sounds from the stairwell. Vadim stepped aside to let her go first. The girl. I knew they would come. He had called in the afternoon, his voice soaked with that brisk businesslike cheerfulness I’d learned to hate, and said that in the evening there would be … Read more

Parents transferred their one-bedroom apartment to my brother, so I didn’t bother telling them that I have my own business and an apartment in a skyscraper.

Lisa had always been quieter than her brother. A year younger than Maksim, she seemed to balance out his loudness with her invisibility. While he tore around the yard shouting, she sat in a corner with a book. While he told jokes to their parents at dinner, she silently finished her soup. “Our little Maksim … Read more

—And is your mother ready to pay for it if she wants to invite that many guests? Or is it all on us again?!

Alexey was checking on his phone where so much money had gone on the credit card while Marina washed the dinner dishes. His mother’s call caught him off guard—she usually phoned on Sundays, and today was Wednesday. “Lyoshenka,” Valentina Petrovna’s voice sounded especially sweet, which always put him on alert, “I’ve been thinking about my … Read more

— What did you say? — Tatyana couldn’t believe her mother-in-law would come up with something like that.

— What did you say? — Tatyana couldn’t believe her mother-in-law would come up with something like that. — You heard me! I don’t understand, what kind of reaction is that? I’m his mother, and Anton can fulfill my wishes sometimes too, not just yours. Isn’t that right? Or are you against it? — I … Read more

It was late. After tucking the children in, Liza drifted to the kitchen, set the kettle on, and waited for the thin whistle that meant she could pour.

It was late. After tucking the children in and smoothing the blankets one last time, Liza drifted to the kitchen. She set the kettle on, watched the tiny lights flicker under the metal, poured tea, and sat at the table with both hands around the cup. Roma still wasn’t home. Lately he’d been drowning in … Read more

“Get to the kitchen. Now!” the husband barked. He had no idea what would follow.

“Katya, where’s my blue tie?” Dmitry shouted from the bedroom. Ekaterina stood over the stove, stirring oatmeal that had already turned thick and listless. Seven years of marriage, and every morning played like a looped reel: he sprinted toward money and importance; she hovered between the kettle and the washing machine. “In the closet, second … Read more

I could line my parents’ walls with gold if I want—it’s my money! Let your mother deal with her own debts; you help her yourself.

Marina stood outside the wallpaper store, carefully examining the samples. Her parents’ apartment had long needed repairs, and their daughter had decided to take the initiative into her own hands. In two years of marriage, she had learned how to plan a budget so there was enough not only for her own needs but also … Read more

“You won’t get a single ruble from me! You got yourselves into debt — you can pay it off yourselves!” the daughter shouted, slamming the door of her parents’ apartment.

The commuter train was slowly approaching the familiar platform, and Anna pressed her forehead to the carriage’s cold windowpane. She hadn’t been to this town in five years. Five years of building a career in the capital, working twelve-hour days, saving on everything—even the coffee from the vending machine. Every kopek went into her dream … Read more

— Listen, Liz, I talked it over with Kostik, — Dima twirled his phone in his hands without looking at his wife.

“Listen, Liza, I talked it over with Kostik,” Dima was turning his phone in his hands without looking at his wife. “He says it’s stupid to keep the apartment only in your name. If something happens, I’ll have to prove my rights later.” “What rights?” Liza froze with a towel in her hands. “It’s my … Read more

— Another glass of your best prosecco, please. And would you be so kind as to bring me the menu again?

The champagne was icy and prickly, burning her throat with a thousand tiny needles. Olga drank it slowly—not like a festive drink, but like medicine. They brought her a huge platter on ice, strewn with oysters, shrimp, and halved crab claws. She ate methodically, without visible pleasure, as if performing an important but unpleasant task. … Read more