— I cancelled your party at the restaurant, his wife told him the day before.

— I cancelled your party at the restaurant, his wife told him the day before.

Oleg walked into the apartment, slamming the door loudly. His tie was loosened, his jacket carelessly draped over his arm. His face was glowing with excitement—today he had officially been appointed head of the sales department. On top of that, he would turn forty in a week. A milestone birthday, a respectable position—everything was coming together perfectly.

— Svetlana! — he shouted, tossing his jacket onto the sofa. — Where are you? Come here, I’ve got news!

Svetlana came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. At thirty-seven, she looked younger—slim figure, chestnut hair pulled into a ponytail, a faint smile on her face.

— What happened? she asked, sitting on the armrest of the chair.

— What happened is that your husband is now a BOSS! — Oleg spread his arms theatrically. — A salary one and a half times higher, a company car, an office with a view of the river. Can you imagine?

— Congratulations, — Svetlana said, genuinely happy. — That’s wonderful! You worked so long for this.

— Exactly! And you know what? I decided we’re going to celebrate properly. Promotion and anniversary at once. One party for two occasions—economical and grand!

Oleg pulled a notebook from his briefcase and started flipping through the pages.

— Look, I’ve thought it all through. “Golden Lion” restaurant—the most prestigious in the city. A hundred guests—our relatives, my colleagues, business partners. A seven-course menu, live music, a host. It’ll be an EVENT!

Svetlana frowned, quickly calculating the amounts in her head.

— Oleg, that’s extremely expensive. Just renting the hall at the “Golden Lion” costs a fortune, not to mention a banquet for a hundred people.

— So what? — he waved it off. — I’m head of department now. I have to match my status. Everyone needs to see I’m a successful man, not some clerk.

— But we don’t have that kind of money, — his wife said carefully. — Even with your new salary…

— We don’t, but you do, — Oleg cut her off, and steel crept into his voice. — Your mother gave you money for a car. Three hundred thousand, if I remember correctly.

Svetlana went pale.

— That’s my money. Mom saved it for years, sold the dacha. She wants me to buy a car—I need to drive the kids to school, go grocery shopping. You know how hard it is without a car.

— The kids can take the bus, like all normal people, — Oleg snapped. — And I’ll bring groceries in the company car. So your car can wait.

— No, Oleg. Mom specifically said—this money is only for a car. I can’t spend it on your banquet.

Oleg jumped up from the chair, his face flushing with anger.

— My banquet? This is our family celebration! Or do you not consider my promotion an achievement for our family?

— Of course I do, but—

— No “buts”! — he barked. — I’m the head of the family. I make the decisions! And I decided we’re celebrating at the “Golden Lion.” End of discussion!

Svetlana stood up too, crossing her arms over her chest.

— And I decided I’m not giving my mother’s money for your show-off nonsense. We can celebrate more modestly—at home or in a small café. Why waste that kind of money?

— Because I don’t want to look POOR in front of my colleagues and partners! — Oleg stepped right up to her. — Do you even understand that my reputation depends on it? My career? Future contracts?

— I do. But I also understand that I need a car. I work on the other side of the city, the kids go to different schools. I get up at six in the morning to make it all work!

— Oh, come on! — Oleg snorted with contempt. — You’re a freelance copywriter—you can work from home. And your fifteen thousand a month isn’t a job, it’s a hobby. I earn ten times more!

Those words stung Svetlana. Yes, she earned less than her husband, but her income was steady, and she took pride in her independence.

— My earnings are my money. And Mom’s money is also mine. I’m not going to waste it on your whim.

— A whim? — Oleg clenched his fists. — Do you even understand who you’re talking to? I’m a department head at a major company! And you’re who? A housewife who cranks out texts for penny websites!

— I’m your WIFE! — Svetlana shouted. — And I have a right to my opinion!

— Your opinion doesn’t interest me! — Oleg roared. — Tomorrow you’ll transfer the money to my account. I’ve already booked the restaurant and paid the deposit with my credit card. All that’s left is the balance.

— With a credit card? You took out a loan?

— None of your business! Your mother’s money will cover everything. And stop arguing! This conversation is over!

Oleg turned around and walked into the bedroom.

The next two days passed in heavy silence. Oleg demonstratively refused to speak to his wife, answering in single words only when necessary. Svetlana tried to get through to him, offered compromises—choose a simpler restaurant, invite fewer guests, cut down the menu. But her husband wouldn’t budge.

— Either the “Golden Lion” for a hundred people, or nothing, — he said at breakfast on Wednesday. — And stop trying to talk me into anything. The decision’s made.

— Oleg, understand—this is madness, spending three hundred thousand on one evening! With that money we could take a family vacation, do repairs, save for the kids’ education…

— Enough! — Oleg slammed his fist on the table. — I’m sick of your whining! Is it really that hard to understand—I need this celebration! I need to show everyone what I’ve achieved!

— Show who? Why? — Svetlana wouldn’t give in. — Your real friends already know your success. And the people you’re trying to impress will forget your banquet in a week.

— You don’t understand anything about business! — Oleg pushed back from the table. — You sit at home, write your little “Ten ways to lose weight by summer,” and think you understand life. In my world, everything is decided by connections, status, image!

— In your world, maybe. But family is our world. And I won’t let you ruin it for your vanity!

Oleg stepped right up to her again, looming over her. Svetlana instinctively backed away—she had never seen him like this.

— Listen to me carefully, — he hissed through clenched teeth. — Tomorrow is Thursday. By evening, the money needs to be in my account. Otherwise…

— Otherwise what? — Svetlana lifted her chin, looking him straight in the eyes.

— Otherwise I’ll call your mother myself and explain what an ungrateful daughter she has. I’ll tell her how you refuse to support your husband at the most important moment of his career. I think she’ll be disappointed.

— Don’t you dare drag my mother into this!

— Why not? — Oleg smirked. — And by the way, I can tell her something even more interesting. For example, how you lost a major client six months ago because of your irresponsibility. Or how you scratched the neighbor’s car last summer and didn’t admit it.

— That’s not how it was! — Svetlana protested. — I lost that client because I refused to write deliberately fake reviews. And the neighbor’s car was scratched by your friend Kostya when he was parking. You yourself asked me to keep quiet!

— Your mother doesn’t know the details. But she does know that I’m an exemplary son-in-law who takes care of her daughter and grandchildren. Who do you think she’ll believe?

Svetlana felt a lump rising in her throat. Could the man she had lived with for fifteen years really be capable of such meanness?

— Are you blackmailing me?

— I’m simply explaining the situation, — Oleg replied coldly. — The money needs to be there by tomorrow evening. And don’t even think about throwing tantrums—I have an important presentation, I need to focus.

He took his briefcase and headed for the door.

— Oleg! — Svetlana called after him. — And what if I refuse anyway?

Her husband turned, and something unpleasant flickered in his eyes.

— Then you’ll find out what it means to go against me. I can make your life very unpleasant. Think about the children—they still have school ahead of them, they need a father. A normal father, not one irritated and angry because of a disobedient wife.

— Are you threatening the children?

— I’m warning you about the consequences of your stubbornness. It’s your choice.

The door slammed shut, leaving Svetlana alone in the empty apartment. She slowly sank onto a chair. What should she do? Give in and hand over the money, betraying her mother’s trust? Or resist—and turn the family’s life into hell?

All day she paced around the apartment, unable to focus on work. Several times she picked up the phone to call her mother, but set it down again—what could she say? How could she explain?

By evening, the decision had formed on its own. Svetlana took from the drawer the guest list Oleg had left on the table. One hundred people—relatives, colleagues, partners, friends. Next to each name was a phone number.

She picked up her mobile and dialed the first number.

— Good evening, Viktor Pavlovich? This is Svetlana, Oleg Rybakov’s wife. I’m calling about the celebration on Saturday…

The first calls were difficult. Svetlana chose her words carefully, trying to sound calm and confident. But with each conversation it became easier.

— Hello, Marina. Yes, this is Svetlana Rybakova. Unfortunately, I have to inform you that Oleg’s birthday celebration has been cancelled… No, everything is fine health-wise, circumstances have just changed…

— Igor? Hi, it’s Sveta, Oleg’s wife. I’m calling to let you know—the banquet at the “Golden Lion” isn’t happening. Yes, it’s cancelled… Why? Family circumstances…

Some guests were surprised, some sighed sympathetically, others tried to pry for details. Svetlana politely but firmly shut down the questions.

By ten in the evening, she had called everyone on the list. The hardest part remained—calling the restaurant.

— “Golden Lion,” administrator Elena speaking, good evening!

— Hello. My name is Svetlana Rybakova. My husband booked a hall with you for Saturday…

— Yes, of course! A banquet for one hundred guests, the “Imperial” hall. Everything is ready—we’re just waiting for final payment.

— That’s what I’m calling about. We have to cancel the reservation.

A pause.

— Cancel? But… you understand, there are three days left before the event. According to the contract, the deposit isn’t refundable in that case.

— I understand. Let it be so.

— Are you sure? Perhaps we could just move the date?

— No, thank you. Cancel it completely.

After she hung up, Svetlana turned off her phone. The first part of the plan was done. Now she had to prepare for the storm that would inevitably break tomorrow…

She went to sleep in her daughter’s room—her daughter had gone to a friend’s dacha. Their son was away at a sports camp. It was a good thing the children wouldn’t see what was about to happen.

In the morning, Svetlana woke up to a crash. Oleg burst into the room, waving his phone.

— WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?! — he bellowed. — Viktor just called me and said you cancelled the banquet yesterday!

Svetlana sat up in bed and smoothed her hair.

— It means exactly what you heard. I cancelled your party at the restaurant.

— YOU… WHAT?! Oleg was purple with rage. — How DARE you?! It’s MY birthday! MY promotion!

— And MY money you were demanding, — Svetlana replied calmly, getting out of bed. — If there’s no money, there’s no party.

— I told you to transfer it!

— And I told you I wouldn’t. You didn’t listen.

Oleg stepped toward her, but Svetlana didn’t back away.

— Do you realize what you’ve done?! They’ll laugh at me! Everyone will think I’m a loser who can’t even organize his own fortieth birthday!

— No. Everyone will think you have a wife who won’t let you waste the family’s money on showboating.

— THE FAMILY’S?! That’s your mommy’s money!

— Which she gave to ME. Not to you, not to “us”—to ME. For a specific purpose.

Oleg grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

— Call everyone back right now and tell them it was a mistake! Tell them the party is on!

— NO! Svetlana tore herself free. — I won’t call anyone! And don’t touch me!

— Oh, is that how it is?! Oleg pulled out his phone. — Then I’m calling your mother! Let her know what kind of daughter she raised!

— Call her! — Svetlana suddenly shouted, surprising even herself. — CALL HER! Tell her how you blackmailed me! How you threatened me! How you humiliated me! Go on—dial!

Oleg froze with the phone in his hand. He hadn’t expected that reaction.

— You… you’re bluffing.

— Try me! Svetlana snatched the phone from him and dialed her mother herself. — On speaker so you can hear!

— Hello, sweetheart? — her mother’s voice came through.

— Hi, Mom. Oleg wants to tell you something about me. I’m putting you on speaker.

— Oleg? What happened?

Oleg stood silent, staring at his wife. Svetlana smirked.

— Well? Why are you quiet? Go on—tell her! About her ungrateful daughter, the irresponsible wife! Come on!

— I… um… Hello, Galina Petrovna, — Oleg mumbled. — It’s just a small misunderstanding…

— What misunderstanding? — Svetlana’s mother asked, worried.

— Mom, Oleg wanted me to give him your money for the car. For his birthday banquet. I refused, and now he wants to complain to you about me.

— What?! Galina Petrovna snapped. — Oleg, is that true?

— I… you see… it’s an important occasion… a promotion…

— Young man! — her mother’s voice turned icy. — I gave that money to my DAUGHTER for a CAR. If you think you can распоряжаться it, you’re mistaken!

— But—

— No “buts”! Sveta, dear, if he dares demand that money again, call me immediately! I’ll come and explain everything to him лично!

— Thanks, Mom.

— And you know what? Come to me for the weekend. Get some rest from that… gentleman.

Svetlana ended the call and looked at her husband. Oleg stood pale, his fists clenched.

— You did that on purpose! — Oleg hissed. — You set it all up!

— I was defending myself, — Svetlana said. — From your rudeness, your threats!

— I was trying to explain—

— EXPLAIN?! You were ORDERING me around! DEMANDING! HUMILIATING me!

For years she had endured his contempt, his condescending tone, his “I’m the head of the family.” But now something in her snapped.

— You know what? — she stepped right up to him. — I’m TIRED. Tired of your arrogance! Tired of proving I’m a human being too! That my work is still work! That my money is my money!

— What money do you even have?! — Oleg spat. — Peanuts!

— Peanuts that fed this family when you got laid off three years ago! Forgot? When you spent half a year looking for a job—who paid for the apartment? Who bought groceries? Who clothed the kids?

— That was temporary…

— YES! And I never once threw it in your face! Never humiliated you! And you? You remind me every chance you get that you earn more!

Oleg took a step back. He didn’t recognize his wife—Svetlana, usually calm and compliant.

— Calm down…

— Don’t you DARE tell me to calm down! — Svetlana was on the edge. — For fifteen years I’ve been “calming down”! For fifteen years I’ve listened to how worthless I am! How lucky I am to have a husband like you! How I should be grateful!

— I never—

— Always! You always did it! With little jabs, hints, “jokes”! “Sveta’s sitting at the computer again, writing her little texts,” “Well, what are your fifteen thousand,” “Good thing you’ve got me”!

She grabbed things from the table and hurled them at the wall—pens, a notebook, the TV remote.

— Stop this hysteria!

— This isn’t hysteria! It’s the TRUTH you don’t want to hear!

Oleg tried to grab her hands, but Svetlana twisted away.

— Don’t touch me! You thought I’d терпеть forever? Keep quiet? Agree with everything? GO TO HELL!

— Sveta!

— “Sveta” what?! Surprised? Didn’t expect your obedient little wife to snap back? To say NO?

Oleg’s phone rang. On the screen: “Director.”

— Answer it! — Svetlana shouted. — Let your precious boss know what you’re really like!

Oleg hit decline, but the phone rang again.

— Hello… Yes, Pyotr Sergeyevich… What? But how… I don’t understand…

Oleg’s face drained of color. He listened and slowly lowered the phone.

— What happened? — Svetlana asked, a little calmer.

— They… they suspended me from my position.

— What? How?

— Viktor Pavlovich… he’s on the board. When you called him and cancelled the banquet, he was surprised. He started asking questions. Turns out I paid the restaurant deposit with the corporate credit card. Misuse of company funds…

Oleg sank heavily onto the sofa.

— But you told me it was your card! You idiot!

— I… I thought I’d have time to put the money back. Your three hundred thousand would have covered everything. No one would’ve found out.

Svetlana couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

— You stole from the company?!

— I didn’t steal! I borrowed it! I would’ve paid it back!

— My God, Oleg! What’s wrong with you?! For show you were ready to commit a crime?!

— It’s not “for show”! — he exploded. — It’s image! Status! You don’t understand!

— I understand you’re an idiot! — Svetlana grabbed her bag. — An idiot who was ready to destroy the family for appearances!

— Where are you going?!

— To my mom’s. I need to think.

— Sveta, wait! We need to talk! I can fix everything!

— Fix it? — she turned back at the door. — You can’t fix anything, because you don’t even see the problem! You think you’re always right! That everyone owes you! That the whole world revolves around you!

— I can change!

— No, you can’t. Because you don’t want to. You like things exactly the way they are!

Svetlana left, slamming the door. Oleg stayed sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands.

Svetlana spent a week at her mother’s, thinking through everything that had happened. When she came home, she calmly but firmly asked Oleg to move out—the apartment belonged to her; her father had given it to her after their daughter was born. Oleg was forced to move in with his own mother, who greeted him in silence and with a pointedly cold reception—his mother had always loved her grandchildren more than her son and couldn’t forgive him for his selfishness. Svetlana still hadn’t decided on divorce, but she was thinking about it more and more often. The main thing was that she had made it through her husband’s “status games,” realized her own strength, and felt happy beside her children, who finally saw their mother calm and smiling.