— If I owe you for the groceries, then you should also pay for living in my apartment, — the wife replied to her enterprising husband.
Lena sat at the kitchen table, turning a pen in her hands. In front of her lay a blank sheet of paper on which she couldn’t manage to write even the first word of her résumé. For the third month in a row, her job search had brought no results — either her qualifications weren’t right, or the salary was miserably low, or the interview ended before it even began.
— Sitting idle again? — Andrei walked into the kitchen, stretching after his daytime nap. He worked night shifts and was used to catching up on sleep during the day.
— I’m writing a résumé, — Lena answered tiredly, without raising her head.
— For what position this time? — her husband’s voice carried a faint note of irony.
— Sales manager in a construction company.
Andrei poured himself tea from the kettle Lena had brewed in the morning. The tea was strong, almost black.
— Do you even understand anything about construction?
Lena lifted her weary eyes to him:
— But I understand sales. I worked at “Eldorado” for three years, remember?
— That was five years ago, — Andrei sat down opposite his wife. — Maybe it’s time to look for something real? Not everyone can be a manager.
Lena gripped the pen tighter. These conversations happened almost every day. Andrei never said it outright, but she felt how much it weighed on him to carry the financial burden of the family alone. Utility bills, groceries, her public transport pass for interviews — all of it fell on his shoulders.
— I’m trying, — she said quietly.
— I know. It’s just… — Andrei rubbed his forehead. — It’s just hard, you know?
Lena nodded. Of course, she understood. The apartment was hers — a two-room flat in a Khrushchyovka, inherited from her parents. But keeping it on one system administrator’s salary wasn’t easy, even though Andrei worked for a good company.
A week later, the call came unexpectedly. Lena was washing the dishes when the phone rang.
— Elena Viktorovna? This is from “StroyInvest.” You submitted a résumé for the sales manager position?
Her heart skipped a beat.
— Yes, I did.
— Could you come in for an interview tomorrow? Let’s say at two in the afternoon?
— Of course! — Lena could hardly contain her excitement. — May I have the address?
After writing down the address, she hung up and leaned against the refrigerator. Maybe this time she would get lucky?
The interview passed in a blur. First with the HR manager, then with the head of sales, then with the deputy director. Lena answered questions, spoke about her experience, tried to present herself in the best light. Finally, the sales director — a solid man of about fifty — looked at her attentively:
— Elena Viktorovna, you’re a good fit for us. Are you ready to start on Monday?
— I am! — Lena barely restrained herself from jumping with joy.
— The salary is seventy thousand a month plus sales commissions. On average, that’s around a hundred thousand. Is that acceptable?
Lena caught her breath. That was more than Andrei earned.
She almost flew home. Andrei was still asleep — he had two hours before his shift. Lena carefully sat down on the edge of the bed:
— Andryusha, wake up. I’ve got news.
He opened his eyes, instantly alert:
— What happened?
— I got the job! — Lena couldn’t hold back her smile. — Seventy thousand plus commissions!
Andrei sat up in bed, now fully awake:
— Seriously? Congratulations! — He hugged his wife. — Finally! Now we’ll start living properly.
The first months at work flew by quickly. Lena immersed herself in her new responsibilities, studied the company’s products, and built relationships with clients. It turned out she truly had a talent for sales — by her second month she earned a bonus as best employee, and by the end of the third her income really did reach nearly a hundred thousand.
At home, things improved as well. Lena now bought groceries, took on part of the utility bills. Andrei brightened noticeably — the tension that had been building for months finally eased.
But after six months came that conversation.
Lena came home exhausted — it had been a tough day, with picky clients and impossible demands from management. She kicked off her heels and walked into the living room, where Andrei was watching the news.
— Hi, — she said, sinking into the armchair.
— Hi. How’s work?
— Fine. Just tired.
Andrei turned off the TV and faced her.
— Lena, I need to talk to you.
Something in his tone made her wary:
— About what?
— About money. About our budget.
Lena frowned:
— What about it?
Andrei hesitated, choosing his words:
— You see, I calculated… During the time you weren’t working, I spent about four hundred thousand on the two of us. Maybe a little more. Groceries, utilities, your expenses…
— So what?
— I mean that now, since you’re earning more than me, it would only be fair if you contributed more to the family budget. So that we’d be even.
Lena slowly straightened in her chair:
— What do you mean — even?
— Well, you understand, — Andrei avoided her eyes. — I carried the family on my own for a long time. Now it’s your turn. I think it would be fair if you gave about seventy percent of your salary toward our shared expenses, and I’d give fifty percent of mine. That way we’d gradually make up for what I spent.
Lena stared at her husband, unable to believe her ears:
— Andrei, we’re a family. We’re supposed to help each other. I wasn’t unemployed because I was lazy, but because I couldn’t find the right job.
— I understand. But fair is fair.
— Fair? — Lena’s voice turned cold. — And is it fair that I cook, clean, and do the laundry? Did you count that in the expenses too?…
— Lena, don’t be like that. I just want everything to be fair between us.
His wife stood up and walked to the window. The silence stretched.
— Fine, — she said at last. — I’ll think about it.
For the next few days, Lena was thoughtful and quiet. Andrei tried several times to bring up the topic again, but she always gave short answers: “I’m still thinking.” He knew his wife was hurt, but he believed his position was fair. After all, he really had supported both of them for a long time.
On Saturday morning Lena came back from some trip with a folder in her hands. Andrei was having breakfast in the kitchen.
— Where were you? — he asked.
— On business, — Lena sat down across from him and placed the folder on the table. — I have documents for you.
— What documents?
Lena opened the folder and pulled out several sheets:
— A rental agreement.
Andrei nearly choked on his coffee:
— What?
— A rental agreement for one room in my apartment, — Lena explained calmly. — Since we’re now calculating everything fairly, let’s make it truly fair.
— Are you out of your mind?
— Not at all. — Lena flipped through the contract. — Look, I’ve calculated everything. The market rent for a one-bedroom in our area is thirty thousand a month. But since you’re my husband, I’ll give you a discount. Twenty-five thousand. Not expensive, don’t you think?
Andrei stared at his wife, not sure if she was joking or serious:
— Lena, this is our apartment…
— My apartment, — she corrected him. — Inherited by me. And if we’re splitting expenses, and you think I still owe you for the time I wasn’t working, then it’s only logical that you should pay for living here.
— But we’re husband and wife!
— Husband and wife is supposed to mean “for better or for worse, for richer or poorer.” But in our case, it turns out everyone’s counting only for themselves.
Andrei put down his cup and looked closely at the contract:
— And you seriously want me to sign this?
— If I owe you for groceries, then you should also pay for living in my apartment, — his resourceful wife replied. — It will give me peace of mind. Everything fair and transparent.
Andrei sat silently, leafing through the contract. Every clause was written properly, legally airtight.
— So this is revenge? — he asked finally.
— No, this is fairness. According to your logic.
They sat in silence for several minutes. Then Lena got up and began clearing the dishes from the table.
— By the way, — she said casually, — I have another proposal.
— What proposal? — Andrei asked warily.
— Cleaning services and meal preparation. I calculated — professional cleaning once a week costs three thousand, and a personal cook is at least a thousand a day. That makes forty-three thousand a month. But for you, as family, I’ll give a discount — thirty thousand.
Andrei opened his mouth, but no words came.
— Lena…
— What “Lena”? I’m not a professional housewife. I have a full-time job I get paid for. Household chores are extra work. If we’re counting everything, then let’s count everything fairly.
She put the cups in the sink and turned to him:
— So, that’s fifty-five thousand a month from you. Plus your share of groceries and utilities. Fair, don’t you think?
Andrei sat staring at the rental contract. The numbers blurred before his eyes. Fifty-five thousand — almost his entire salary.
— You’re punishing me, — he said quietly.
— No, — Lena sat down beside him. — I’m just showing you where your logic leads. You want to treat our relationship like a business partnership? Fine. Then let’s calculate everything.
— But that’s not what I meant…
— And what did you mean? That I should compensate you for the expenses from when I wasn’t working, while still cooking and cleaning for free, getting nothing in return?
Andrei was silent. When Lena laid it out like that, his proposal really did sound unfair.
— I didn’t think it through, — he admitted.
— Didn’t think, or decided you could exploit me a little?
The word “exploit” cut painfully into his ears.
— I didn’t want to exploit you, — Andrei took his wife’s hand. — It’s just… it was hard to carry everything alone. And when you started earning well, it seemed to me you should make up for my expenses.
— Andrei, what if tomorrow I lost my job again? Or got sick? Would you also keep tally of how much you spent on me?
He thought about it. Really, what would he do in that situation?
— Probably not, — he admitted honestly.
— Then what’s the difference?
Andrei set the contract aside and rubbed his face with his hands:
— Lena, forgive me. I acted like a fool.
— You did, — she agreed, but her voice softened.
— Can we go back to how things were? One budget, shared expenses?
— We can. But on one condition.
— What condition?
— That we never again keep score of who owes what in this family. We’re one team. It doesn’t matter who earns more.
Andrei nodded:
— Agreed.
Lena put the rental contract back into the folder:
— And one more thing. When we have children and I go on maternity leave, you won’t be counting how much you spend on me.
— I won’t, — he promised. — I give you my word.
They embraced. Outside, a light spring rain was falling, and inside the apartment it suddenly felt quieter and more peaceful.
— Still, I’ll keep the contract, — said Lena, leaning against her husband.
— Why?
— Just in case. In case you ever decide again that fairness is more important than family.
Andrei laughed:
— I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson.
And Lena thought that sometimes the most important lessons in family life have to be taught in unusual ways. And it’s good when there is someone to teach them — and someone to learn them.
