“…I can’t take it anymore, Sveta! My wife is already living on nothing but pasta, and you’re demanding even more money!” Maxim muttered to his sister.
Maxim slammed the fridge door and turned to his wife with a displeased look.
“Elena, what are these sausages costing three hundred rubles per kilogram? Have you lost your mind?”
Elena froze by the stove, continuing to stir the contents of the pan. Her fingers gripped the wooden spatula tighter.
“Maxim, there were no others. Only these, and the cheaper ones at one hundred fifty, but those were some strange color—greyish-green, honestly.”
“Did it never occur to you to go to another store?” her husband’s voice grew sharper. “I give you money not for you to throw it away! You need to think with your head, not with the part you sit on!”
Elena turned slightly, her gaze sliding over her husband’s plate, which held veal cutlets costing eight hundred rubles per kilogram, fresh vegetables, and a slice of expensive Swiss cheese for one thousand two hundred.
“I understand, dear. And your veal probably flew into the fridge by itself? On the wings of the angels of frugality?”
“Don’t get smart!” Maxim slammed his fist on the table, making the salt shaker jump. “I have a responsible job, my brain needs to be in order, I need to eat well! And what’s it cost you to eat a cheaper sausage? You sit at home, clean your nails, and spit at the ceiling!”
Elena turned back to the stove, feeling something dark and hot boiling inside her. A year ago, she had quit her job at his insistence—“a wife should take care of the house and her husband, not wander around offices like a stray cat.” Now every penny passed through his control as if through an airport metal detector.
“Maxim, maybe we should reconsider our budget?” she suggested cautiously, without turning around. “I could find a job…”
“So that the house becomes like a pigsty?” he snorted. “No, your task is to save. Tomorrow, go to ‘Ashan,’ they have sales. And in general, learn to save at last! Other wives feed a family on ten thousand!”
“Other wives aren’t married to other husbands,” Elena murmured quietly.
“What was that?” Maxim asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. Just pondering the twists of fate and how hard it is to be the wife of a frugality genius.”
Maxim looked at her suspiciously but decided not to press further. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
“I’m going to Sergey’s to discuss work matters. Don’t wait for me. And make a proper dinner tomorrow, not this nonsense!”
“Of course. Made from air and moonlight. Or did we suddenly get a magical bank account?” Elena muttered into the emptiness.
The door slammed. Elena turned off the gas and sank into a chair. On the pan, the overcooked sausages were cooling—the very same “insanely expensive” ones. She picked one up with her fork and looked at it thoughtfully.
“Three hundred rubles per kilogram…” she murmured. “And his veal—eight hundred. Interesting math we have for our family budget.”
Outside, the rain fell, and Elena suddenly thought it resembled her life—gray, monotonous, and endless.
“Tell me honestly,” Marina leaned across the café table, carefully studying her sister’s face, “how much does he give you per month?”
Elena hesitated, stirring her coffee with a spoon. Tiny bubbles on the surface popped like her illusions about married life.
“Twenty thousand. Well, sometimes a little more—if he’s in a good mood or guests are expected.”
“For the whole household?” her sister widened her eyes as if she’d seen an alien in slippers. “Lena, that’s pennies! I spend that on myself! And how much does he earn?”
“He says eighty. But after utilities, gas, his personal expenses…” Elena shrugged.
“His personal expenses?” Marina snorted, almost choking on her coffee. “And yours? In a parallel universe?”
Elena shrugged. She had no personal expenses. She bought new clothes once a year, and even then from a thrift store; cosmetics—the cheapest from mass-market brands; haircuts every six months, and even then done by a student at half price.
“Lena, my dear,” Marina leaned closer, lowering her voice, “have you considered that he might have… other expenses? Of a more… intimate nature?”
“What kind?” Elena really didn’t understand.
Marina was silent for a moment, then said cautiously:
“Well, men sometimes… have someone on the side. And that’s expensive. Gifts, restaurants, hotels… A whole enterprise for extracting money.”
“Maxim?” Elena shook her head, as if swatting away a pesky fly. “No, he’s a homebody. Work-home, work-home. Where would he find someone else? His imagination is only enough to criticize my cooking skills.”
“Then where is the money going?” Marina frowned. “Eighty thousand is a good salary. Even after utilities and gas, there’s a decent amount left. The math doesn’t add up.”
Elena stayed silent, slowly stirring her coffee. Marina was right, but the idea that her husband could be deceiving her seemed impossible. Maxim was as predictable as Swiss clockwork—off to work in the morning, home in the evening with a sour face and complaints about dinner, weekends at his friend Sergey’s or with his sister Svetlana.
“Maybe he’s saving for something grand?” Marina suggested. “A new car, a dacha with a pool? A trip to space?…”
“…I can’t take it anymore, Sveta! My wife is already living on nothing but pasta, and you’re demanding even more money!” Maxim muttered to his sister.
“Elena, what are these sausages costing three hundred rubles per kilogram? Have you lost your mind?”
Elena froze by the stove, continuing to stir the contents of the pan. Her fingers gripped the wooden spatula tighter.
“Maxim, there were no others. Only these, and the cheaper ones at one hundred fifty, but those were some strange color—greyish-green, honestly.”
“Did it never occur to you to go to another store?” her husband’s voice grew sharper. “I give you money not for you to throw it away! You need to think with your head, not with the part you sit on!”
Elena turned slightly, her gaze sliding over her husband’s plate, which held veal cutlets costing eight hundred rubles per kilogram, fresh vegetables, and a slice of expensive Swiss cheese for one thousand two hundred.
“I understand, dear. And your veal probably flew into the fridge by itself? On the wings of the angels of frugality?”
“Don’t get smart!” Maxim slammed his fist on the table, making the salt shaker jump. “I have a responsible job, my brain needs to be in order, I need to eat well! And what’s it cost you to eat a cheaper sausage? You sit at home, clean your nails, and spit at the ceiling!”
Elena turned back to the stove, feeling something dark and hot boiling inside her. A year ago, she had quit her job at his insistence—“a wife should take care of the house and her husband, not wander around offices like a stray cat.” Now every penny passed through his control as if through an airport metal detector.
“Maxim, maybe we should reconsider our budget?” she suggested cautiously, without turning around. “I could find a job…”
“So that the house becomes like a pigsty?” he snorted. “No, your task is to save. Tomorrow, go to ‘Ashan,’ they have sales. And in general, learn to save at last! Other wives feed a family on ten thousand!”
“Other wives aren’t married to other husbands,” Elena murmured quietly.
“What was that?” Maxim asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. Just pondering the twists of fate and how hard it is to be the wife of a frugality genius.”
Maxim looked at her suspiciously but decided not to press further. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
“I’m going to Sergey’s to discuss work matters. Don’t wait for me. And make a proper dinner tomorrow, not this nonsense!”
“Of course. Made from air and moonlight. Or did we suddenly get a magical bank account?” Elena muttered into the emptiness.
The door slammed. Elena turned off the gas and sank into a chair. On the pan, the overcooked sausages were cooling—the very same “insanely expensive” ones. She picked one up with her fork and looked at it thoughtfully.
“Three hundred rubles per kilogram…” she murmured. “And his veal—eight hundred. Interesting math we have for our family budget.”
Outside, the rain fell, and Elena suddenly thought it resembled her life—gray, monotonous, and endless.
“Tell me honestly,” Marina leaned across the café table, carefully studying her sister’s face, “how much does he give you per month?”
Elena hesitated, stirring her coffee with a spoon. Tiny bubbles on the surface popped like her illusions about married life.
“Twenty thousand. Well, sometimes a little more—if he’s in a good mood or guests are expected.”
“For the whole household?” her sister widened her eyes as if she’d seen an alien in slippers. “Lena, that’s pennies! I spend that on myself! And how much does he earn?”
“He says eighty. But after utilities, gas, his personal expenses…” Elena shrugged.
“His personal expenses?” Marina snorted, almost choking on her coffee. “And yours? In a parallel universe?”
Elena shrugged. She had no personal expenses. She bought new clothes once a year, and even then from a thrift store; cosmetics—the cheapest from mass-market brands; haircuts every six months, and even then done by a student at half price.
“Lena, my dear,” Marina leaned closer, lowering her voice, “have you considered that he might have… other expenses? Of a more… intimate nature?”
“What kind?” Elena genuinely didn’t understand.
Marina was silent for a moment, then said cautiously:
“Well, men sometimes… have someone on the side. And that’s expensive. Gifts, restaurants, hotels… A whole enterprise for extracting money.”
“Maxim?” Elena shook her head, as if swatting away a pesky fly. “No, he’s a homebody. Work-home, work-home. Where would he find someone else? His imagination is only enough to criticize my cooking skills.”
“Then where is the money going?” Marina frowned. “Eighty thousand is a good salary. Even after utilities and gas, there’s a decent amount left. The math doesn’t add up.”
Elena stayed silent, slowly stirring her coffee. Marina was right, but the idea that her husband could be deceiving her seemed impossible. Maxim was as predictable as Swiss clockwork—off to work in the morning, home in the evening with a sour face and complaints about dinner, weekends at his friend Sergey’s or with his sister Svetlana.
“Maybe he’s saving for something grand?” Marina suggested. “A new car, a dacha with a pool? A trip to space?”
“I don’t know,” Elena replied softly.
“He says nothing. We’ve barely talked this past year. Only ‘pass the salt’ and ‘why pasta again.’”
Marina covered her hand with hers—warm, soft, familiar.
“Lena, my sunshine, you have to find out the truth. You can’t live in darkness like a mole in a burrow. You have the right to know what your family’s money is being spent on.”
“And if I find out… something bad?” Elena lifted her eyes, full of worry.
“Then you make a decision. But living in ignorance isn’t life, it’s just existing.”
At home, Elena wandered through the rooms, the conversation with her sister replaying in her mind like a scratched record. Where did the money really go? Maxim had never shown her pay stubs or bank statements, only giving general numbers, and even then reluctantly, as if revealing a state secret.
“I don’t know,” Elena replied quietly. “He doesn’t say anything. We’ve barely spoken this past year. Only ‘pass the salt’ and ‘why pasta again.’”
Marina covered her hand with her own—warm, soft, and familiar.
“Lena, my sunshine, you must find out the truth. You can’t live in darkness like a mole in a burrow. You have the right to know where your family’s money is going.”
“And if I find out something… bad?” Elena lifted her eyes, full of anxiety.
“Then you’ll make a decision. But living in ignorance isn’t life—it’s mere existence.”
At home, Elena wandered through the rooms, the conversation with her sister playing over and over in her mind like a scratched record. Where was the money really going? Maxim had never shown her pay slips or bank statements, only vague figures, and even then reluctantly, as if divulging state secrets.
She began cleaning her husband’s study, carefully avoiding his sanctum—the desk. Maxim had forbidden her from touching anything there; only dusting was allowed.
While vacuuming under the desk, she bent down to pick up a fallen pencil and noticed a white sheet tucked far under the desk leg. She pulled it out—it was last month’s bank statement.
Elena sat on the floor right there and began examining the document with trembling hands. Salary received—seventy-eight thousand. So he hadn’t lied. Utilities—eight thousand. Gas—five thousand. Groceries—three thousand. And then…
Regular transfers of twenty thousand rubles. Twice a month. Recipient—someone named A.S. A total of forty thousand for the month.
Her hands shook so much that the paper rustled like autumn leaves. Could it be that Marina was right? Maxim really did have secret expenses. But who was this mysterious A.S.?
Elena reread the statement, trying to understand. A mistress? But why then official bank transfers instead of cash? Wouldn’t it be safer to hide such expenses?
“Or maybe it’s extortion?” she whispered into the empty room. “Or gambling? Debts?”
She hid the document in her handbag. Maxim must not find out about it, at least not yet. Everything needed careful thought.
The rest of the cleaning Elena did mechanically; her mind was elsewhere. Could she really have lived a year in deception? Scrimping on everything, counting every penny, while her husband transferred twice as much to someone unknown as he gave his own wife?
“Forty thousand a month,” she whispered, folding bed linens. “Forty! With that kind of money, one could live like a human, not like a church mouse.”
“Forty thousand a month?!” Marina whistled, setting down her cup. “Lena, that’s more than he gives you! Twice as much!”
“So I’ve been living on leftovers,” Elena said bitterly. “And the main part of the money goes to this mysterious A.S.”
“We need to find out who that is,” Marina frowned, her eyes sparking with determination. “Do you have access to his phone?”
“He set a password three months ago. Said it’s work information, confidential.”
“I see,” Marina nodded. “Classic sign. Then watch him more closely. Maybe he’ll slip up or you’ll find some clues.”
Elena nodded, but inside her chest tightened with a painful knot. Could it be that all this time her husband had been deceiving her? Making her economize on food, go without necessities, wear second-hand clothes, while he transferred money to some unknown person?
“Maybe it’s not a woman,” Marina tried to reassure her, seeing her sister’s state. “Maybe debts, or investments, or something innocent.”
“What debts are twenty thousand every two weeks?” Elena shook her head. “And if it’s something innocent, why hide it?”
Her sister shrugged. There really was no logical explanation.
“You know what irritates me most?” Elena continued. “Not even that he spends money. But that he makes me feel guilty for every penny. Lectures about three-hundred-ruble sausages, while he…”
“Lena, dear,” Marina took her hand, “the main thing now is to find out the truth. Then we’ll decide what to do.”
“And if I don’t want to know the truth?”
“You will. Because you’re not the type to live with your eyes closed.”
Elena returned from the store carrying heavy bags. Once again, she had to buy the cheapest options—pasta, grains, sausages. There wasn’t enough money for decent meat, as usual in recent months.
Approaching the house, she saw a familiar red car in the yard. Svetlana, her husband’s sister. Elena frowned—this woman irritated her with constant complaints and demands.
Upstairs, opening the door, Elena heard voices. Maxim was talking with his sister, and the tone was far from friendly.
“…I can’t take it anymore, Sveta! My wife is already living on nothing but pasta, and you’re demanding even more!”
“And what, am I supposed to live on the street?” Svetlana’s voice was sharp and angry. “You promised to help until the house is finished! Or is your word worthless?”
Elena froze at the door, keys in hand. What were they talking about?
“I understand your problems, but forty thousand a month is too much! I have a family to feed!”
“What family?” Svetlana snorted with contempt. “This wife of yours only spends money on her whims! And here I am, stuck with a loan, like a fool! You yourself said the house needs to be finished and sold, or I’ll never pay off my debts!”
“I said that, but I didn’t think it would drag on for a year…”
“No excuses!” Svetlana’s voice sharpened. “You promised our parents you’d take care of me! They left you a big share of the inheritance, and what about me? Crumbs!”
“Sveta, I’m not refusing to help. Just let’s do fifteen, okay? At least we’ll save a little.”
“Fifteen?” she squealed. “Are you completely crazy? My payment is thirty a month! Where am I supposed to get the other fifteen? Shake it out of the ceiling?”
Elena slowly set the bags down on the floor. A.S.—Alexandra Svetlana. Her husband’s sister. So no mistress. But that realization didn’t make things easier—it only made it more bitter.
“Maxim, if you start pinching pennies on me now, I won’t pay the bank! And then they’ll take the house along with the lot! Do you want that? For everything to be lost?”
“No, of course not…”
“Then stop whining like an old woman! Your wife will manage these difficulties somehow. Let her find a job if there’s not enough money! After all, she’s not disabled!”
“I forbid her to work, you know that…”
“Then shut up and pay without complaints! I’m not asking for this money forever. I’ll sell the house—I’ll pay back every penny, with interest.”
“And if you don’t sell it?” Maxim asked timidly.
“I will, definitely!” Svetlana shouted. “Just don’t get in the way of me building a proper house, not some shack!”
Elena quietly placed her keys on the side table. Maxim and Svetlana stood in the living room with their backs to her, continuing their argument.
“Sveta, understand, she’s already asking where the money goes. She’ll figure it out soon…”
“Then tell her the truth if you’re so honest!” Svetlana turned and saw Elena. “Oh, there you are. Just in time.”
Maxim spun around sharply. His face turned bright red.
“Lena… when did you get here? We didn’t hear you…”
“Quite a while ago,” Elena said coldly, removing her coat. “Long enough to hear everything in detail. And very enlightening, I must say.”
“Lena, dear, I can explain everything…”
“Of course you can. I’m very eager to hear your explanations. Especially about how I supposedly spend money on whims.”
Elena walked into the living room, and Maxim’s eyes darted frantically between his wife and sister.
“You see, Sveta really has a difficult situation. The house isn’t finished, the loan is huge. Our parents asked me to look after her…”
“Look after her?” Elena scoffed bitterly. “You call this looking after her? Forty thousand a month—that’s already full-board maintenance.”
“How do you know the exact amount?” Maxim asked suspiciously.
Elena pulled the bank statement from her bag and waved it in front of him.
“Here’s how, darling. Bank statements are amazing things; they show everything without secrets. Now tell me honestly, how many months have you been ‘looking after’ your sister like this?”
Maxim lowered his head like a guilty schoolboy.
“Almost a year…”
“Almost a year,” Elena repeated slowly, as if tasting the words. “So for almost a year, you made me eat cheap sausages, buy second-hand clothes, economize every penny. And meanwhile, you were transferring half your salary to this…” — she turned to Svetlana with a scornful look — “…this person.”
“Hey, hey, take it easy, darling!” Svetlana squeaked aggressively. “I’m not a ‘person,’ I’m his real sister! And I have legal rights to my brother’s support!”
“Legal rights?” Elena laughed mockingly. “Interesting legal argument. Using someone else’s money, apparently?”
“Using my brother’s money!” Svetlana shrieked. “And what do you have to do with it? You don’t work, you’re living off him like a parasite!”
“At his own request, by the way!” Elena shouted. “And I’m living on pasta and sausages while you build yourself a palace!”
“Girls, let’s calm down…” Maxim tried to intervene in a pathetic voice.
“Shut up!” both women shouted at him simultaneously.
Svetlana stepped aggressively toward Elena.
“Listen to me carefully, my dear. Maxim is my only relative after our parents died. And if they asked him to take care of me, then so be it, to the end!”
“At the expense of someone else’s family?” Elena didn’t back down. “At the expense of me wearing worn-out shoes and patched clothes?”
“No one forced you to marry him!” Svetlana spat venomously, smirking. “Don’t like this life—divorce and don’t suffer! The road to freedom is wide open!”
Silence fell over the room. Maxim looked at the women with mounting horror.
“You know what, Svetlana?” Elena said quietly, with dangerous calm. “Great idea. Absolutely wonderful. Get out of my house. Right now.”
“What?” Svetlana was taken aback.
“Get out! Immediately. And don’t let your feet touch this place again.”
“Lena, don’t be so harsh…” Maxim began in a pleading tone.
“And you get out too,” Elena turned to him, her voice ironclad. “Out of my apartment. Go live with your beloved sister, since she means more to you than your own wife.”
“Have you completely lost your mind?” Svetlana screamed, her voice no longer her own.
“What right do you have to kick us out? This isn’t your apartment!”
“The most direct right, sweetheart.” Elena smiled coldly. “The apartment is registered to my mother. Which means it’s mine too. Maxim only has the right to a place to sleep. Nothing more.”
Maxim went even paler. He knew perfectly well that the apartment was a gift from his mother-in-law, but he had never considered the legal nuances.
“Lena, dear, I’m explaining everything…”
“No, now you listen to me, dear husband,” Elena walked into the living room and picked up Maxim’s jacket from the chair. “A year. A whole year you starved me for her whims.”
“What are you saying!” Maxim tried to grab the jacket. “Starved? You didn’t die of hunger!”
“And what else would you call living on twenty thousand a month, while half your salary faithfully goes to your precious sister for her construction games?”
Elena decisively stormed to the wardrobe and began throwing his clothes into the center of the room.
“Lena, stop immediately!” Maxim rushed toward her in panic. “We can discuss everything calmly, find a compromise!”
“There’s nothing left to discuss. Get out of here and don’t come back.”
“Lena, you don’t understand the whole situation!” Maxim grabbed her hands. “Sveta will sell the house and return everything down to the last penny! I’m not spending that money forever!”
“Keep lying,” Elena said coldly, jerking free. “If you deceived me for a whole year, now you lie shamelessly.”
“I’m not lying! She honestly promised to pay everything back!”
“Your sister?” Elena laughed bitterly. “The same one who just suggested I get a divorce and leave? Maxim, you’ve completely lost your mind.”
She continued methodically tossing his belongings into a bag. Maxim flailed nearby.
“Lena, I beg you! This is my only family!”
“And who am I then?” Elena slowly turned to him. “A temporary tenant? A random companion?”
“You’re my beloved wife…”
“Was a wife. Now get out of my house and take your ‘family’ with you.”
“Out of yours?” Maxim tried to laugh mockingly. “We’ve been living here together for three years!”
“You only sleep and eat here. The apartment belongs to my mother. And, accordingly, to me too. Legally, everything is clean.”
Maxim turned pale, almost blue. He understood perfectly that legally, Elena was absolutely right.
“Lena, I’ll make it right, I swear…”
“Too late for pretty promises.”
Elena heaved the heavy bag to the hallway and flung open the front door wide.
“Out. Both of you. And make it quick.”
“How dare you…” Svetlana squealed. “You have the nerve!”
“Exactly, I do. And it’s surprisingly easy,” Elena replied calmly. “Now get out before I call the police for trespassing on private property.”
Maxim spent three nights at his friend Sergey’s place, calling Elena every day. She didn’t pick up. On the fourth day, he decided to go home.
The door was opened by the neighbor, Aunt Galya.
“Maxim, what are you doing here? Elena went to the registry office; she filed for divorce.”
“What?” Maxim leaned against the wall. “When?”
“Yesterday morning. She said she was tired of living married to a liar. Probably fed up with your tricks.”
“Come on, Aunt Galya, it’s not that simple…”
“Simplicity was exactly the problem,” the woman shook her head. “Your Lena is smart. Sooner or later, she had to wake up.”
Maxim turned and trudged to the elevator. So it was serious. Elena was determined.
The phone rang—Svetlana.
“Maxim, where’s my money? Payment’s tomorrow!” Her voice was already demanding from the first second.
“Sveta, I have problems…”
“I don’t care about your problems!” she shrieked. “I have to pay the bank! Did you forget your obligations?”
“I can’t right now… understand, it’s complicated…”
“How can you not? Are you completely insane? I’m not a charity!”
“Lena filed for divorce, I’m left without an apartment…”
“So what?” Svetlana screamed into the phone. “Rent another one and pay me! I went into debt because of you! Or do you think the bank will wipe my tears?”
“Because of me?” Maxim snapped. “You were the one building the house! That was your decision!”
“On your advice!” his sister wailed. “You said, build, and I’ll help! And now what, have you lost your memory?”
“I didn’t think you’d spend most of the inheritance on nonsense! You should’ve counted! I thought you…”
“You should’ve thought earlier!” Svetlana interrupted. “Now give me the money! And don’t start with excuses!”
“Sveta, listen, give me time…”
“You’ve had plenty of time!” she shouted. “Stop spinning your tales!”
Maxim ended the call, realizing—there was no turning back.
Six months passed. Maxim rented a shabby apartment, giving half his salary to cover it. There wasn’t enough left for Svetlana. She called every day, demanding, threatening, creating a scandal.
“Sveta, I can’t give you forty thousand anymore!” Maxim said wearily in yet another conversation.
“And how much can you give, dear brother?” she asked venomously, stretching the words. “Ten? Fifteen? Maybe five for tea?”
“Maximum ten.”
“Ten?” Svetlana laughed nastily. “Are you joking? My payment is thirty! Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Then sell the house! I see no other option.”
“Unfinished?” she screamed. “They’ll give me pennies! Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“But it’s better this way, otherwise the bank will take it! Sveta, be reasonable…”
“Don’t lecture me!” her sister shouted. “It’s your advice that got me stuck in this mess!”
“No one forced you to spend money left and right,” Maxim said calmly.
“Shut up!” Svetlana roared. “I don’t need your smart talks right now! I need money!”
Svetlana swore into the phone for another minute, then hung up. A month later, the bank filed a lawsuit—she hadn’t paid for the third month in a row.
Svetlana sold the house for half its value. She paid off the loan, and when Maxim timidly reminded her about returning the money, she laughed in his face.
“Return? What return?” she snorted. “Are you crazy?”
“Sveta, I gave you almost five hundred thousand!” Maxim tried to explain reasonably.
“So what?” she looked at him like he was an idiot. “Because of you, I sold the house for half the price! Consider us even!”
“How is that because of me?” Maxim couldn’t believe it.
“Exactly!” his sister shouted, getting worked up. “If you hadn’t divorced your wife, you’d be living with her, not renting an apartment, and I could have paid the loan normally! But instead, I had to sell in a hurry! The whole chain fell apart thanks to you!”
“Sveta, are you serious?” Maxim asked quietly.
“Absolutely serious!” she yelled. “And don’t come to me anymore! I have enough of my own problems! Stop parasitizing me!”
“Parasitizing? I gave you half a million!”
“You gave it—so you wanted to!” Svetlana snapped. “No one forced you! And now the results are obvious!”
She turned and left, leaving her brother standing with his mouth open.
“Well, Sveta, you outdid yourself…” he could only manage to say after her.
“Ms. Elena Andreyevna, the documents are ready,” said the realtor, handing over a folder. “The house is yours.”
Elena signed the papers, took the keys, and left the office. Her cousin Nikolai was waiting nearby—she had bought the house through him so Svetlana wouldn’t find out.
“So, new homeowner?” he smiled.
“I still can’t believe it,” Elena admitted. “I thought Mom’s money from selling the apartment would last for years, and then luck like this.”
“Sveta was in a hurry to sell, that’s why she gave it away for half price,” Nikolai smirked. “Greed ruined the fool, as they say.”
“Not greed, but stupidity,” Elena corrected. “God didn’t bless her with brains, apparently.”
They drove up to the house. Small, sturdy, with a beautiful veranda. Only the interior finishing work remained.
“We’ll finish it in a year to a year and a half,” Nikolai estimated. “I have hands growing from the right place.”
“Kolia, you’re just a savior,” Elena hugged her brother. “Without you, I wouldn’t have dared this adventure.”
“It’s not an adventure,” Nikolai shook his head. “It’s justice. Let at least something good come out of this story.”
A year later, the house gleamed with fresh paint and a new roof. Elena was standing on the porch, watering the flowers in the planters, when she heard a familiar voice.
“Elena!”
She turned—Maxim was walking through the gate. Older, in a crumpled shirt, with a pleading expression on his face.
“What do you want?” she asked coldly, not stopping her watering.
“Elena, forgive me!” he stepped closer. “I was a fool! I understand everything now, I’ve realized it all!”
“Realized?” Elena smirked. “In just over a year? That’s quick for you, isn’t it?”
“I still love you! Let’s try again!”
“And where was your love this past year?” Elena asked calmly, setting down the watering can. “Not one call, not even a flower on my birthday.”
“I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me…”
“Correct thought,” Elena nodded. “And I don’t want to now.”
“Elena, understand, I’ve changed! Sveta also ditched me, I get it all now!”
“You got it? That you’re out of money?” Elena laughed. “And now you remember your ex-wife? How touching.”
Maxim tried to step closer, but Elena grabbed the rake standing on the porch.
“One more step and you’ll get it on the head,” she warned.
“Elena, I’m different now! I have a job…”
“Wonderful,” Elena nodded. “Work away. Just stay away from me.”
“But we were happy!”
“You were happy,” Elena corrected. “And I was a fool. But that’s fixable.”
“Elena, please! Give me a chance!”
“A chance?” Elena swung the rake. “Your chance ended when you chose your sister. Leave, Maxim. Immediately.”
Maxim jumped back and ran toward the gate.
“Elena, think!” he shouted as he ran. “We can fix everything!”
“I already fixed it,” Elena called after him. “I divorced you!”
The gate slammed. Elena watched him go and laughed.
“What a circus,” Nikolai said, coming out of the house. “Did he stand under the windows long?”
“About ten minutes,” Elena replied. “He was probably deciding how best to phrase his words.”
“No words needed,” Nikolai smirked. “The rake was more eloquent.”
From around the corner of the house, Marina appeared, barely holding back laughter.
“I couldn’t stand it!” she snickered. “How he ran from those rakes! Just like in the movies!”
“He brought it on himself,” Elena shrugged. “A year of silence, and now he comes with his repentance. Life clearly gave him a good beating.”
“And what about Svetlana?” Marina asked. “Did she find out about the house?”
“Through mutual acquaintances,” Nikolai nodded. “They say she caused such a scandal for Maxim—the whole yard could hear. She was screaming that he betrayed her by selling the information.”
“Information?” Elena was surprised. “What information?”
“Well, she thinks he told you about the house sale,” her brother explained. “She can’t believe that she blabbed it herself at the hairdresser’s.”
Marina burst out laughing.
“I can imagine her face! She thought the poor ex-fiancée was hiding in the corners, and she’s living in her house!”
“Not her house,” Elena corrected. “Mine. Bought honestly.”
“And she has no idea?” Marina asked.
“Not yet,” Nikolai smiled. “But it won’t last long. Sooner or later, she’ll figure it out.”
“Let her figure it out,” Elena said indifferently. “I have nothing to hide.”
“The sauna’s ready!” Nikolai called out.
“Let’s go,” Elena said, putting her arm around Marina’s shoulders. “Let’s celebrate getting rid of the parasites.”
Elena stood on the terrace of her house, watching Maxim glance back at the gate one last time, and realized that the circle had closed: the very man who a year ago had been teaching her to economize on sausages was now begging for mercy from the woman he had considered a spendthrift. And she—having bought his sister’s house for half the price thanks to her mother’s inheritance and her own hard work—felt neither anger nor regret anymore, only a slight wonder at how quickly life had put everyone in their rightful place.
