My husband decided to spend New Year’s Eve with his mistress, so I spent all his money and celebrated too

My husband decided to spend New Year’s Eve with his mistress, so I spent all his money and celebrated too

The message came on Thursday evening while I was chopping salad for dinner. My husband’s phone was lying on the table face-up — he had, as usual, forgotten it in the kitchen when he went to take a shower. I wasn’t even planning to look at it. But the notification practically pulled my eyes toward it.

“Igoryok, I’m so looking forward to our celebration! I’ve already bought a dress, you promised it would be an unforgettable evening.”

My hand with the knife froze over the cutting board. Igoryok. My husband’s name is Igor, and only I used to call him Igoryok in the first years of our marriage, about twenty-five years ago. And now someone else was calling him that.

I slowly set the knife down and wiped my hands on my apron. Water was running in the bathroom. I had about two minutes. My fingers trembled as I picked up the phone. I knew the password — the date of our wedding. The irony.

The chat with Kristina opened easily. I scrolled up, and each message stung more than a slap.

“My love, I want you so much today.”

“Thank you for the flowers, you’re the most thoughtful man.”

“I can’t wait for the 31st. Did you book a table at Panorama?”

“Panorama.” The most expensive restaurant in the city — the same one he had promised to take me to for our twenty-fifth anniversary, but never did. Yet for Kristina — of course.

The water in the bathroom stopped. I quickly put the phone back and returned to the salad. My hands moved automatically — chop, mix, salt. Inside, everything went cold and tightened into a hard knot.

“Marina, why are you so pale?” Igor asked as he came out of the bathroom in his robe, his hair still damp. “Do you feel sick?”

“I’m fine,” I answered without looking up. “Just tired.”

He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, kissed my neck. I caught the scent of his shower gel — the expensive one he’d recently bought. For her, probably.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you,” he began, and I instantly knew a lie was coming. “I got a call from work. I have to go on a business trip for a few days. Right over the New Year holidays, can you imagine?”

I turned to him. Looked into his eyes — brown, familiar, the same ones I fell in love with thirty years ago.

“On New Year’s Eve?” I feigned surprise. “But we always celebrate together…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he spread his arms in a guilty gesture. “But it’s an important project. They promised a good bonus. You understand, right?”

I understand. I understand that you’re lying to my face. That thirty years of life together, a daughter, grandchildren — all of that means nothing compared to your Kristina and her new dress.

“Of course,” I nodded. “Work is work. When are you leaving?”

“On the morning of the thirty-first. I’ll be back on the third.”

“All right. So I’ll celebrate alone.”

He hugged me again, pulling me close.

“Forgive me, Marishka. I promise I’ll make it up to you. We’ll travel somewhere, celebrate just the two of us later.”

Later. Someday. Like he once promised before, but we never went anywhere.

I didn’t sleep that night. I lay beside him, listening to his steady breathing, thinking. I could have made a scene. Told him everything I knew. But what would that change? He would deny it, accuse me of jealousy, of spying. Or maybe he’d even confess. And then what? A divorce at fifty-seven? Splitting the apartment, enduring the shame in front of our daughter and grandchildren?

No. I chose a different path.

In the morning, I called Nastya, our daughter.

“Hi, Mom! How are you?” Her voice was sleepy.

“Nastya, sweetheart, would you mind if I came to spend New Year’s with you?”

“With us? Mom, seriously?” Surprise and joy instantly woke in her voice. “Of course I don’t mind! We’d be so happy! Did something happen?”

“Well, your dad is going on a business trip. I don’t want to sit alone. I thought I’d see the grandkids and spend time with you.”

“Mom, that’s wonderful! You absolutely must come! Do you need a ticket? I’ll buy it!”

“No need, darling, I’ll manage. I’ll leave on the morning of the thirty-first.”

“Perfect! I’ll meet you!”

When I hung up, a little weight lifted from my soul. Igor had already left for work — lately he’d been leaving earlier and coming home later. Preparing for his celebration with his mistress, no doubt.

I opened my laptop and bought a ticket for the high-speed train to St. Petersburg. Then I logged into our online bank and checked our joint account. There were just over two hundred thousand rubles — his last bonus plus several months of savings. A nice amount. Especially for someone who was about to impress his mistress in an expensive restaurant.

The next few days passed in a fog. Igor bustled around, packed his suitcase, went out a couple of times supposedly to buy gifts for clients. He returned satisfied, with a mysterious smile. I watched him and felt not even anger, but a kind of cold calm. As if I were no longer here, in this apartment with my cheating husband, but somewhere far away.

“You’re sure you won’t be upset?” he asked two days before he “left.” “That I’m leaving you alone?”

“Igor,” I smiled gently at him, “we’re adults. You work — I understand. It’s not a big deal. Besides, I decided to visit Nastya.”

He froze.

“Visit Nastya? For New Year’s?”

“Yes. Why? She’s invited me many times. Since you’ll be busy, why not spend time with our daughter and grandkids?”

I saw relief flash in his eyes. Now he wouldn’t have to feel guilty — his wife wouldn’t be alone, she’d be with family, everything perfect.

“That’s… that’s a good idea,” he nodded. “You’ll have a great time.”

“We definitely will,” I agreed.

The morning of December thirty-first was frosty and sunny. I got up at six, made coffee, packed a small bag. Igor was still asleep — his “train” was only at noon. No, not a train. He just planned to leave home at noon pretending he was traveling.

I left a note in the kitchen: “Went to Nastya’s. Have a good business trip. Marina.”

On the train, I looked out the window at the snowy fields and forests. A few messages came from Igor: “Good morning,” “Have a safe trip,” “Text me when you arrive.” Everything was as usual. The caring husband. Except tonight this caring husband would be sitting in a restaurant with another woman.

Nastya met me at the station with flowers and a huge smile. We hugged, and I felt tears prick my eyes. My dear daughter. The only person who truly loves me.

“Mom, why are you crying?” she asked, worried.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just missed you,” I wiped my eyes. “Silly stuff. Let’s go.”

Nastya had a cozy three-room apartment in a new building. The grandchildren — Liza, eight, and Maxim, five — ran to me shouting “Grandma!” I hugged them, kissed their little heads, and warmth spread through my chest.

“Mom, rest a bit after the trip,” Nastya said gently. “Then we’ll go to the mall. I still need to buy a few gifts, didn’t manage everything. Want to keep me company?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

We had tea, and I napped for a while. By four in the afternoon, we were walking through a huge shopping mall. Garlands sparkled everywhere, festive music played, people hurried past with bags full of gifts.

“Look,” Nastya stopped by a toy store window. “I want to buy this doll for Liza. And for Maxim — that construction set over there.”

I nodded, looking over the toys. But in reality, I was thinking about Igor. Right now, somewhere back in our city, he was probably fixing his hair, putting on his best suit, getting ready for his “unforgettable evening.” Spraying himself with expensive cologne. Maybe even feeling a little nervous.

“Mom, are you listening to me?”

“What? Yes, yes, of course.”

“I’m saying this construction set is kind of pricey. Five thousand. Maybe we should get something simpler?”

“Get this one,” I said. “The child will be happy.”

“Mom, but it’s expensive…”

“Nastya,” I took her hand, “take it. I’ll pay.”

“Mom, no! You don’t have to!”

“Sweetheart,” I smiled, “let me enjoy being a generous grandmother. All right?”

She looked at me with doubt but nodded.

I pulled out the card — the one attached to our joint account — and paid for the purchases. Ten thousand rubles. Igor wouldn’t notice. Not yet.

“Let’s go on,” I suggested. “Let’s look at something for you.”

We wandered through the stores. Nastya tried on dresses; I bought her the set she liked for fifteen thousand. Then we stopped by a jewelry shop, where I saw earrings — delicate, with small diamonds.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Nastya asked, catching my gaze.

“Very.”

“But way too expensive. Twenty-five thousand, can you believe it?”

“Try them on.”

“Mom, why? I won’t buy them anyway.”

“Try them on, I said.”

She put the earrings on and looked in the mirror. Her eyes lit up.

“They suit you,” I said. “We’re taking them.”

“Mom!”

“Nastya, it makes me happy to give you gifts. Let me, okay?”

It was awkward for her to refuse, and the earrings really suited her. I took out the card. Twenty-five thousand gone.

Then came the cosmetics store, where I bought Nastya creams and perfume for another twelve thousand. The pet shop, where we got a huge cat house — nine thousand. The electronics store, where I insisted on buying Nastya a new tablet — thirty thousand, since her old one barely worked anymore.

“Mom, stop,” Nastya grabbed my hand as we left yet another shop. “What is happening? You’ve already spent over a hundred thousand! This is insane!”

I checked the time. Half past seven. Igor was probably already sitting at the restaurant table. Admiring Kristina in her new dress. Ordering champagne. Feeling young and successful.

“Mom, you’re scaring me,” Nastya said, anxiety in her eyes. “Is everything okay? Did something happen with Dad?”

I exhaled deeply.

“Nastya, let’s get some coffee. I need to tell you something.”

We sat in a café in the food court. I ordered two cappuccinos and slowly, calmly told my daughter everything. About the message. About the chat. About the “business trip.” About the Panorama restaurant.

Nastya listened, and her face changed — from surprise to anger, from anger to pain.

“How…” she couldn’t find the words. “How could he? After so many years? Mom, I’m sorry, but he’s… such a bastard!”

“Yes,” I agreed. “And you know, I don’t want to scream or make scenes. I don’t want to ruin my life. But I want him to feel… at least a little of the consequences.”

“And you’re spending his money?”

“Our money,” I corrected. “From our joint account. On my grandchildren, on my daughter. What’s wrong with that?”

Suddenly Nastya laughed. Through tears — but she laughed.

“Mom, you’re a genius. How much is left in the account?”

I checked the balance in the app.

“About ninety thousand. And I want to spend it. Every last ruble.”

We got up and returned to the mall. Now we weren’t just shopping — we were on a mission. I bought myself a coat I’d wanted for a long time — thirty-eight thousand. Nastya chose new boots — twenty thousand. We went to a toy store and bought a bunch more gifts for the grandkids — building sets, dolls, cars, books. Nastya added up the receipt — twenty-three thousand.

“That leaves nine,” she said, checking her phone. “Where to next?”

I looked around. My eyes landed on a wine boutique.

“There,” I nodded.

We picked three bottles of good champagne and French wine. Exactly nine thousand two hundred rubles. The card balance now showed a pathetic six hundred rubles.

We stepped outside, loaded with shopping bags. It was almost nine in the evening.

“Feel better?” Nastya asked.

“Much better,” I admitted.

My phone rang. Igor. I answered.

“Marina!” his voice was tense. “Do you have the card with you? From the joint account?”

“Yes, why?”

“Did you buy something? There are some huge charges!”

“I did,” I said calmly. “Gifts for the grandkids, some things for Nastya. Why?”

“How much did you spend?!”

“I didn’t count. What’s wrong, Igor? Aren’t you supposed to be on a business trip? Or did the restaurant disappoint you?”

Silence.

“How do you know about the restaurant?”

“What do you think?” I felt something warm rise inside me—not anger, but triumph. “Did you think I was stupid? That I wouldn’t notice? Igoryok?”

Another pause. I could hear him breathing heavily.

“Marina, I’ll explain everything, but right now… I have a problem. There’s no money on the card, and I need to pay the bill, and—”

“And your Kristina in her new dress is waiting? A pity, Igor. Truly a pity. But you know, I wanted to spend New Year beautifully too. And I will — with my daughter, with my grandchildren. And you can deal with your problems on your own. Happy New Year.”

I hung up. My hands were trembling, but inside, everything felt light.

“Mom,” Nastya said quietly, “you just… that was amazing.”

We came home. My son-in-law Denis had already set the table, and the grandchildren were jumping with excitement. We put down our many shopping bags and opened one of the bottles.

At eleven o’clock my friend Sveta called to wish me a happy New Year. She burst out laughing when she heard the whole story.

“Marina, I adore you! He probably fell off his chair! I can just imagine how his little Kristinochka was freaking out!”

Yes, I imagined it. I imagined Igor trying to explain to the waiter that the money would arrive any moment now. How he blushed, how he squirmed. How Kristina first didn’t believe him, then got angry, then grabbed her purse and left, throwing something like ‘you ruined my whole holiday!’ over her shoulder.

Good. Let him feel it.

At midnight we stood with glasses of champagne. The chimes rang on TV. The grandchildren popped confetti, and Denis hugged Nastya. And I stood there thinking about the thirty years I had lived with my husband. There had been good years. But they were over. And something new was beginning.

“To us,” Nastya said, raising her glass. “To women who don’t let themselves be betrayed without consequences.”

“To us,” I repeated.

Igor didn’t call again that night. But in the morning, on January first, an SMS arrived: “I need to talk to you. Seriously talk.”

I replied only: “Me too. But not today. Today I am resting.”

I spent three days at Nastya’s. We walked through snowy St. Petersburg, took the kids to the theater, ate blini at a café on Nevsky. I didn’t think about Igor, or what would happen next, or about divorce or forgiveness.

When I returned home, the apartment was empty. On the table lay a note: “I’m at Dima’s. I’ll come in the evening. We really need to talk. I.”

He came in the evening. Older-looking, exhausted. He sat across from me in the kitchen.

“She left me right in the restaurant,” he said quietly. “Said I’m a loser. That I ruined her holiday.”

“I’m very sorry,” I said without irony. And I genuinely did feel a little sorry.

“Marina, I… I’m a fool. A complete idiot. I don’t know what came over me. A midlife crisis, probably. It felt like I was missing out on life, like I needed something new, something exciting…”

“And you found Kristina.”

“Yes. And I lost everything else.”

We sat in silence.

“Will you forgive me?” he asked.

I looked at him. This man had been part of my life for so long. We raised a daughter, went through so much together.

“I don’t know, Igor,” I answered honestly. “I don’t know if I can forgive. And I don’t know if I can forget. I need time to think. About us, about myself, about what I want from my life now.”

“I’ll wait,” he said. “As long as it takes.”

Maybe we’ll get back together. Maybe we’ll divorce. Maybe we’ll find some kind of compromise. I truly didn’t know.

But I knew one thing for certain: I was no longer that obedient wife who silently endures and forgives. I was a woman who could stand up for herself — even if in such an unusual way.

And the money… well, it had been spent on the right things. On family. On those who truly mattered. On gifts, joy, love.

And it was the best New Year of my life.