— You want my salary? To spend it on your mommy? Svetlana asked her husband with a squint.
“Listen, Vityok, how are things with money at your place?” Pavel asked back then, sipping his beer. “Marina hands her whole paycheck over to me—I decide myself where to spend it.”
Marina nodded beside him and winked at her husband.
“Of course, my darling manages it better. He’s the one with the brains!”
Viktor got home around midnight. Pavel’s laughter—and Marina’s—was still ringing in his ears. The café meet-up, which had started as ordinary after-work drinks, had turned his idea of family life upside down.
At the time he’d only snorted, but inside something pricked. For the last six months Svetlana had been making almost twice as much as him—she was a senior manager. And he was still stuck in the same position, paid peanuts. The unfairness burned him from the inside.
“Vitya, why are you so lost in thought?” Svetlana came out of the bedroom in a robe. “You’re home late.”
“Met up with Pashka,” he muttered, heading into the kitchen.
Svetlana poured him some tea and sat down next to him. There was exhaustion in her eyes—she’d stayed late again, dealing with some urgent supply issue.
“Sveta, we need to talk about money,” Viktor began, gathering his courage.
“What happened? The car again?”
“NO!” he snapped. “It’s not that. My mother… she’s having a hard time right now. Her pension is small, and the medicines are expensive.”
Svetlana frowned.
“But we help her every month. I transferred ten thousand last week myself.”
“Not enough!” Viktor slammed his fist on the table. “You don’t understand! She worked her whole life, raised me alone, and now she’s counting every penny!”
“Vitya, let’s talk calmly. How much do you need?”
Viktor took a deep breath. The moment of truth.
“As soon as you get your salary, send it to me,” he demanded. “Where—to where? I’ll give it to my mother. Your entire paycheck.”
Svetlana froze with the cup in her hands. Silence hung in the room, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator.
“Are you serious?” she asked quietly.
“Absolutely. It’s the right way. A man should manage the family budget. My father always took my mother’s paycheck, and there were never any problems.”
Svetlana slowly set her cup down on the table.
“And what am I supposed to do with no money?”
“I’ll give you money for expenses. Whatever you need, I’ll give you. But first my mother, then everything else.”
In the morning Svetlana woke up earlier than usual. She hadn’t slept at all—her husband’s words kept spinning in her head. She looked at Viktor sleeping and didn’t recognize the man she’d married eight years ago.
At breakfast, tension hung in the air.
“So? Have you thought about it?” Viktor asked, spreading butter on bread.
Svetlana nodded.
“Fine. I agree.”
Viktor almost choked.
“Really?”
“Yes. Only my salary won’t be coming anytime soon. Delays, you know—crisis.”
“And roughly when?”
“They’re promising in a couple of weeks. And they’re supposed to give a bonus too—about three hundred thousand total.”
THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND! Victory music started playing in Viktor’s head. He imagined buying the new phone he’d been dreaming of, updating his wardrobe—maybe even going fishing with his friends at Lake Baikal. And his mother… well, his mother would get something too.
“Excellent!” he beamed. “You’ll see—this will be better for everyone.”
For the next few days Viktor walked around on wings. At work he bragged to his colleagues that he’d put things in order at home, that now he was the real master of the house. He even called Pavel to thank him for the “lesson.”
“Well done, Vityok!” Pavel laughed into the phone. “That’s right! No point trusting women with money—they’ll blow it all on clothes!”
A week passed, then another. Viktor started to worry.
“Sveta, so what about the salary?”
“I told you—delays. Accounting says it’ll be any day now.”
“How long can this drag on? What the hell!”
“Vitya, it’s not my fault. Management decides.”
Grinding his teeth, Viktor agreed to wait. But his patience melted with each passing day—especially when the bills came in: rent, internet, mobile service. Svetlana paid everything herself, but somehow reluctantly, with visible unwillingness.
“Soon you’ll run out of money,” Viktor warned. “What will you do then?”
“I’ve got a credit card,” his wife shrugged.
At the end of the month Viktor snapped. Seeing photos of Pavel with a new phone on social media, he realized he couldn’t wait any longer. Especially since he’d already made a few plans. A week earlier he’d taken out a loan to buy the latest gaming console—counting on paying it off with his wife’s salary.
“SVETA!” he roared, bursting into the apartment one evening. “How long are you going to mess with me?!”
His wife calmly looked out from the kitchen.
“What happened?”
“WHERE’S THE MONEY? It’s been a month already! Are you dragging it out on purpose?”
“Vitya, I explained—”
“You didn’t explain anything! You just don’t want to hand it over! Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Svetlana wiped her hands on her apron and walked into the room. Viktor followed, still shouting.
“Three hundred thousand! You promised three hundred thousand! Where is it?”
“You know what, Vitya,” Svetlana turned to him. “Let’s be honest. There is no delay. I got my salary two weeks ago.”
Viktor went rigid. Blood rushed to his face; his hands shook with rage.
“WHAT? You… you lied to me?”
“Yes. I lied. And you know why? Because I wanted to see how far you’d go with your greed.”
“What greed? I’m taking care of my MOTHER!”
“Oh, give it a rest!” Svetlana laughed. “Your mother is doing just fine on her pension plus my transfers. I talked to her last week—she’s going to a sanatorium; she’s already bought the tickets.”
Viktor turned pale. His mother really had said something about a sanatorium, but he’d let it go in one ear and out the other.
“That… that doesn’t matter! The point is—you’re MY WIFE! You have to obey!”
“Have to?” Svetlana narrowed her eyes. “And why exactly?”
“Because that’s how it’s supposed to be! The man is the head of the family! The provider!”
“The provider?” She shook her head. “Vitya, you make forty thousand a month. I make one hundred and twenty. Which one of us is the provider?”
Viktor clenched his fists.
“How dare you! I pulled you out of that dorm! This apartment was bought by my parents!”
“The apartment was bought before our wedding. And I’ve been putting money into it for eight years—renovations, furniture, appliances. Everything’s fifty-fifty, just so you know.”
“GET OUT!” Viktor screamed. “Get out of MY house!”
Svetlana smiled strangely.
“As you say.”
She went into the bedroom. Viktor heard the closet open, something rustling. A few minutes later his wife came out, dragging three suitcases behind her.
“What, are you serious?” he blurted.
“And what did you expect?” Svetlana set the suitcases by the door. “Only here’s the thing, darling—you’ll be the one moving out.”
“WHAT?”
“Remember three months ago when we renewed the contract? In my name. You signed it yourself—you said it would be easier for taxes.”
Right—there had been something like that. Back then Svetlana had explained something about deductions, benefits… He hadn’t listened; he’d trusted her. They’d gone to a notary.
“You… you set me up?…”
“No, Vitya. I didn’t set you up. I just protected myself. I saw how you were changing. The way you looked at my payroll statement. The way you counted my money.
“But… but we’re a family!”
“We were. Until you decided I was your property. A wallet with legs.”
“NO!” Viktor lunged toward his wife. “You can’t do this! We’ve been together eight years!”
Svetlana stepped back toward the window.
“For the last year I’ve endured your contempt. Your remarks that a woman can’t be more successful than a man. Your envy of my achievements.”
“I wasn’t jealous!”
“Vitya, you threw a tantrum every time I got a raise. You said the boss must be hitting on me. That I was sucking up, hinting at things…”
“To hell with the past!” Viktor grabbed his head. “Sveta, please! I’ll change!”
“Too late. You know, I’m even grateful to Pavel and Marina.”
“What do they have to do with it?”
“Everything. They played a joke on you. Marina called me yesterday, laughing. She said she and her husband came up with a prank—told you about handing over money. And you believed it! You ran home demanding it.”
Viktor froze. His temples started pounding; his vision swam.
“They… were joking?”
“Yep. And in their case it’s the opposite. Pavel gives Marina his paycheck—she runs the budget. Because she knows how to handle money, unlike him.”
Viktor’s phone rang. Pavel’s name lit up on the screen.
“Answer it,” Svetlana nodded. “I’m curious what he’ll say.”
With a trembling hand, Viktor lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hello…”
“Vityok! So, did Sveta hand you her salary?” his friend’s cheerful voice cut like a knife.
“Pavel… you…”
“Listen, Marina and I are laughing our heads off! She goes—no way he fell for it! And I’m like—nah, Vityok isn’t that stupid! And she’s like—bet he ran straight home to demand it! So—who won?”
Viktor threw the phone to the floor. Svetlana picked it up and turned it off.
“That’s how it is, Vitya. Because of a stupid joke, you destroyed our family.”
“Sveta…” He dropped to his knees. “Forgive me! I’m an idiot! A complete idiot!”
“Yes, you are an idiot. But that’s not the point. The point is—you showed your true face. Greedy, petty, and jealous.”
“I’ll change!”
“No. You won’t. Want to know why I’m sure? Because you’ve already gotten yourself into debt.”
Viktor went pale.
“How do you—”
“I noticed you had new clothes. I started checking—and it turns out you took out a consumer loan for two hundred thousand. And you also got a credit card with a limit of one hundred fifty.”
“I was going to pay it off right away! As soon as you gave me your salary!”
“Exactly. You already spent my money—money you hadn’t even received yet. You bought a console, some gadgets… Vitya, you’re sick!”
Viktor sat there, clutching his head in his hands. His whole life was collapsing in front of him. The loans were choking him—his first payment was due in a week, and he had nothing to pay with. The apartment wasn’t his. The wife he’d thought was obedient and quiet turned out to be someone else entirely.
“Let’s make a deal,” he rasped. “I’ll move out, but you help with the loans.”
“NO,” Svetlana said. “Not a penny. You got yourself into debt—you claw your way out.”
“But it’s because of you!”
“Because of me?” she laughed. “No, Vitya. Because of your greed and stupidity. You believed the first person you met, without even talking to me like a human being.”
“Go to hell!” Viktor sprang up. “Think you’re so smart? You’ll be lost without me!”
“We’ll see,” Svetlana shrugged. “Now GET OUT. You have an hour to pack.”
“You don’t have the right!”
“I do. Here’s a copy of the apartment documents. Here’s the contract you signed. If you want, go to court. But keep in mind—I’ll tell them about your loans taken in expectation of my salary. That’s fraud, by the way.”
Viktor understood—she was right. He had nowhere to go. To his mother? She lived in a one-room apartment—and what would she say when she found out the truth? To friends? After this humiliation?
He packed in silence. Svetlana sat in the kitchen, drinking tea. Calm, composed—as if they hadn’t lived eight years together, but were just casual acquaintances.
“Sveta, maybe—”
“NO, Vitya. Just go.”
He walked onto the landing with two bags. The door slammed behind him. The lock clicked—Svetlana had changed it a month ago; now he understood why.
Outside, a fine drizzle fell. Viktor pulled out his phone and called Pavel.
“Hello, Vityok! Why’d you drop the call?”
“Pavel… can I crash at your place tonight?”
“What happened?”
“Sveta kicked me out.”
Silence on the line. Then laughter.
“No way! Over that joke?”
“Yes,” Viktor said dully.
“Listen… Marina’s against it. Says it’s your own fault. Sorry, bro.”
The disconnect tone stabbed his ears. Viktor called a few other acquaintances—everyone refused. News of his disgrace had already spread among their mutual friends.
He had to rent a room. Sitting on the hard cot, Viktor thought about how everything went wrong. About the three hundred thousand he never got. About the loans now hanging around his neck. About the apartment he’d lost because of his own greed.
His phone vibrated. A text from his mom: “Vitya, what nonsense is Sveta talking about? What money for medicines? I told you I’m going to a sanatorium—everything’s paid for. What are you plotting?”
Viktor turned off his phone. There was nothing to say.
A month later Svetlana got the official divorce—Viktor didn’t fight it. She sold the apartment and bought another one, smaller but in a better neighborhood. At work things took off—without constant stress at home, she blossomed.
Viktor scraped by on odd jobs. His main paycheck went to loan repayments. He still lived in the same rented room, eating instant noodles.
One day he ran into Pavel and Marina at a shopping mall. They pretended not to recognize him.
“Hey, Pavel!” he called.
Pavel turned around, grimacing.
“Oh. Vityok. How are you?”
“Fine,” Viktor lied.
“Well, great. We’ve got to run—things to do.”
Marina didn’t even say hello. She only tossed over her shoulder:
“Imagine getting yourself into such a mess over a stupid joke. Sveta did the right thing.”
They walked away, leaving Viktor standing in the middle of the crowd—alone, deceived by his own greed, betrayed by his illusions about what a “real man” is supposed to be.
And somewhere else in the city, Svetlana was brewing coffee in her new apartment. Papers about her promotion lay on the table—she was now the head of an entire department. Her salary had risen to two hundred thousand.
The phone rang—an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Svetlana? It’s Viktor. Can we meet? Talk?”
“NO, Viktor. We have nothing to talk about.”
“But I understood my mistake! I’ve changed!”
“Congratulations. Live with your changes. And I’ll live without your mistakes.”
She hung up and blocked the number. Her soul felt light and calm.
Freedom is expensive. But it was worth it.
