Lena sat at the kitchen table, twirling a pen between her fingers. A blank sheet of paper lay in front of her, and she still couldn’t bring herself to write the first word of her résumé. For the third month in a row, the job search was going nowhere—either her qualifications didn’t fit, or the pay was miserable, or the interview ended before it even began.
“Still sitting around doing nothing again?” Andrey walked into the kitchen, stretching after his daytime sleep. He worked the night shift and was used to catching up on rest during the day.
“I’m writing a résumé,” Lena answered wearily, without looking up.
“For what position this time?” There was a barely perceptible irony in her husband’s voice.
“Sales manager at a construction company.”
Andrey poured himself some tea from the kettle Lena had boiled that morning. The tea was strong, almost black.
“Do you know anything about construction at all?”
Lena lifted her tired eyes to him.
“I know sales. I worked at Eldorado for three years—remember?”
“That was five years ago,” Andrey said, sitting down across from his wife. “Maybe it’s time to look for something realistic? Not everyone gets to be a manager.”
Lena gripped the pen tighter. They had this conversation almost every day. Andrey never said it outright, but she felt how much it weighed on him that he was supporting the family alone. Utilities, groceries, her public transport pass for going to interviews—all of it fell on his shoulders.
“I’m trying,” she said quietly.
“I know. It’s just…” Andrey rubbed his forehead. “It’s just hard, you know?”
Lena nodded. Of course she understood. The apartment was hers—a two-room Khrushchev-era flat she’d inherited from her parents. But maintaining it on one system administrator’s salary wasn’t easy, even though Andrey worked at a good company.
A week later the call came out of the blue. Lena was washing the dishes when the phone rang.
“Elena Viktorovna? This is StroyInvest. You applied for the position of sales manager?”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“Yes, I did.”
“Could you come in for an interview tomorrow? Say, at two in the afternoon?”
“Of course!” Lena could barely contain her excitement. “May I have the address?”
After writing it down, she hung up and leaned against the fridge. Maybe this time she’d get lucky?
The interview went by in a blur. First with the HR manager, then with the head of sales, then with the deputy director. Lena answered questions, talked about her experience, tried to present herself in the best possible light. In the end, the sales director—a solid man in his fifties—looked at her closely.
“Elena Viktorovna, you’re a good fit for us. Can you start on Monday?”
“I can!” Lena barely restrained the urge to jump for joy.
“The salary is seventy thousand rubles a month plus commission. On average it comes out to around a hundred thousand. Does that work for you?”
Lena’s breath caught. That was more than Andrey earned.
She practically flew home. Andrey was still sleeping—he had two hours before his shift. Lena carefully sat on the edge of the bed.
“Andryusha, wake up. I have news.”
He opened his eyes, instantly alert.
“What happened?”
“I got the job!” Lena couldn’t hold back a smile. “Seventy thousand plus commission!”
Andrey sat up, now fully awake.
“Seriously? Congratulations!” He hugged his wife. “Finally! Now we’ll live like normal people.”
The first months at work flew by. Lena threw herself into her new responsibilities, learned the company’s product line, and built relationships with clients. It turned out she really did have a knack for sales—by her second month she received a bonus as the best employee, and by the end of the third her pay really had approached a hundred thousand.
Things at home improved too. Lena started buying the groceries and took on part of the utilities. Andrey visibly brightened—the tension that had been building for months disappeared.
But six months later, they had That Conversation.
Lena came home from work exhausted—the day had been tough, clients were fussy, and management demanded the impossible. She kicked off her heels and went into the living room, where Andrey was watching the news.
“Hi,” she said, sinking into an armchair.
“Hey. How’s work?”
“Fine. Just tired.”
Andrey turned off the TV and faced his wife.
“Len, I need to talk to you.”
Something in his tone set her on edge.
“About what?”
“About money. About our budget.”
Lena frowned.
“What about it?”
Andrey hesitated, choosing his words.
“You see, I’ve done the math… During the time you weren’t working, I spent roughly four hundred thousand rubles on the two of us. Maybe a little more. Groceries, utilities, your expenses…”
“So?”
“Well, now that you’re making more than I am, it would be fair if you put a bit more into the household budget. So we’re square.”
Lena slowly straightened up in the chair.
“What do you mean, ‘square’?”
“You know,” Andrey avoided her gaze, “I carried the family alone for a long time. Now it’s your turn. I think it would be fair if you put about seventy percent of your salary toward our shared expenses, and I’ll put in fifty percent of mine. That way we’ll gradually make up what I spent.”
Lena stared at her husband, not believing her ears.
“Andrey, we’re a family. We’re supposed to help each other. I wasn’t working not 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. “Is it fair that I cook, clean, and do the laundry? Did you count that in your expenses too?”
“Lena, don’t be like that. I just want everything between us to be fair.”
She stood and walked to the window. The silence dragged on.
“All right,” she said at last. “I’ll think about it.”
For the next few days Lena was pensive and quiet. Andrey tried several times to bring up the topic again, but she answered in monosyllables: “Still thinking.” He knew she was hurt, but he believed his position was fair. After all, he really had supported them both for a long time.
On Saturday morning, Lena came back from some errand carrying a folder. Andrey was eating breakfast in the kitchen.
“Where were you?” he asked.
“Out on business,” Lena sat down across from him and put the folder on the table. “I have some documents for you.”
“What documents?”
Lena opened the folder and took out several sheets.
“A rental agreement.”
Andrey almost choked on his coffee.
“A what?”
“A rental agreement for one room in my apartment,” Lena explained calmly. “Since we’re counting everything fairly now, let’s make it truly fair.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Not at all.” Lena flipped through the contract. “Look, I calculated everything. The market rent for a one-bedroom apartment in our neighborhood is thirty thousand rubles a month. But since you’re my husband, I’m giving you a discount. Twenty-five thousand. That’s not expensive, you have to admit.”
Andrey looked at his wife, unsure whether she was joking or serious.
“Lena, this is our apartment…”
“My apartment,” she corrected him. “I inherited it. And if we’re splitting expenses down the middle, and you also think I owe you for the time I wasn’t working, then it’s only logical that you pay for housing.”
“But we’re husband and wife!”
“Husband and wife means ‘for better or for worse, for richer or poorer.’ What we’ve got here is everyone tallying up their own side.”
Andrey set 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 can pay for living in my apartment,” his enterprising wife replied. “It’ll make me feel better. Everything honest and transparent.”
Andrey said nothing, leafing through the agreement. Every clause was properly written, legally airtight.
“Is this revenge?” he asked at last.
“No, it’s justice. By your logic.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Lena stood and began clearing the dishes.
“By the way,” she said casually, “I have another proposal.”
“What kind?” Andrey asked warily.
“Cleaning services and cooking. I checked—weekly cleaning costs three thousand, and a home cook is at least a thousand rubles a day. That comes to forty-three thousand a month. But for you, as my nearest and dearest, I’ll give a discount—thirty thousand.”
Andrey opened his mouth but couldn’t find any words.
“Lena…”
“What, ‘Lena’? I’m not a professional housewife. I have a full-time job I get paid for. And housework is additional labor. If we’re counting everything, then let’s count everything fairly.”
She set the cups in the sink and turned back to her husband.
“So that’s fifty-five thousand a month from you. Plus your share of groceries and utilities. Fair, don’t you think?”
Andrey stared at the rental contract. The numbers swam 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 we’ll count everything.”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“What did you mean? That I should reimburse you for expenses from when I wasn’t working, but keep cooking and cleaning for free, getting nothing for it?”
Andrey was silent. Put that way, his proposal 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 sharply.
“I didn’t want to exploit you,” Andrey took his wife’s hand. “It’s just… it was hard carrying everything alone. And when you started earning well, it seemed to me you should make up what I spent.”
“Andrey, what if tomorrow I lost my job again? Or got sick? Would you start counting how much you’ve spent on me then too?”
He thought about it. What would he do in that situation?
“Probably not,” he answered honestly.
“Then what’s the difference?”
Andrey set the contract aside and rubbed his face with his hands.
“Lena, I’m sorry. I acted like an idiot.”
“You did,” she agreed, but her voice softened.
“Can we put everything back the way it was? Shared budget, shared expenses?”
“We can. But on one condition.”
“What condition?”
“That we never again tally up who owes what to whom in this family. We’re one team. It doesn’t matter who earns how much.”
Andrey nodded.
“Deal.”
Lena slipped the rental agreement back into the folder.
“And one more thing. When we have children and I go on maternity leave, you won’t be adding up how much you spend on me.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “You have my word.”
They embraced. A light spring rain was falling outside the window, and the apartment somehow felt quieter and calmer.
“I’m still going to keep the contract, though,” Lena said, snuggling into her husband.
“Why?”
“Just in case. In case you ever decide again that ‘fairness’ matters more than family.”
Andrey 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 a good thing when there’s someone to teach them—and someone to learn them.
