“Seriously, Katya? You want to ruin everything because of some two-hour drive?!” Igor’s voice trembled with outrage, and his face had turned red as if he’d just run a marathon.
“Two hours?!” Katya whirled away from the kitchen window where she’d been standing, clutching a cup of cold coffee in both hands. “Igor, that’s four hours round-trip! Every weekend! That’s a whole day of our lives we’ll be spending on the road!”
“And what happened to our plans? To what we’ve been talking about for months?” He slammed his fist on the table, making the spoons in a glass jump. “We agreed we’d buy near my parents! They already know—Mom even made a list of the plants we’ll be planting…”
Katya slowly set her cup on the windowsill and turned back. Something dangerous flickered in her eyes.
“Your mom made a list? How sweet. And who’s going to pay for that land, Igor? Who’s going to put their money into a plot you can’t even reach without wasting an entire day?”
“Our money!” He sprang up from his chair. “It’s our shared money!”
“My money,” Katya said quietly. “Eighty percent of it is my money. And I get a say.”
Silence fell. Igor stared at his wife as if he were seeing her for the first time. In a year and a half of marriage, they had never said it this plainly.
“So that’s how it is…” He lowered himself back into the chair. “Now you’re counting pennies? Measuring salaries?”
“I’m not counting pennies,” Katya leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed. “I’m trying to be rational. My dad is giving me six hundred square meters and offering to help me buy the neighboring plot from the current owners. That’s another six. Twelve hundred square meters half an hour from home versus who-knows-how-much land two hours away.”
“Your dad’s plot.” Igor let out a short laugh with nothing happy in it. “Got it. So my parents aren’t good enough, but yours are perfect?”
“This isn’t about parents!” Katya felt something inside her start to boil. “It’s about the fact that I work ten hours a day so we can afford this land. And I don’t want to spend another four hours every weekend in the car!”
“Oh, so that’s what this is!” Igor got up and began pacing the kitchen. “So you’re supporting us? I’m some kind of freeloader?”
“I didn’t say that…”
“You didn’t say it, but you think it!” He turned to her. “Every day! Every time you pay the mortgage, the groceries—everything!”
Katya stayed silent. She couldn’t lie—sometimes she did think it. Especially on the days she came home exhausted after a long shift at the beauty salon, and Igor was sprawled on the couch with a beer, complaining about his small mechanic’s salary.
“You know what,” she said softly, “maybe I should think about the land separately from you.”
The words hung in the air like a sentence.
Igor stopped in the middle of the kitchen. His face turned gray.
“What did you just say?”
“I said what I said.” Katya lifted her chin. “If it’s that important to you to be near your parents, then buy there yourself. I’ll buy near my dad.”
“We’re a family!” he shouted. “Or are we not?”
“A family is when decisions are made together—not when one person dictates the terms and the other is supposed to pay in silence!”
Igor grabbed his head.
“Katya, what’s happening to you? We love each other… We planned a future…”
“We planned,” she nodded. “Only somehow every plan was about what was convenient for your parents.”
“My parents?” He stared at her, baffled. “What do my parents have to do with it?”
“The fact that your mom already made a plant list! The fact that we never once discussed other options! The fact that the moment I started talking about practicality, you decided I was against your family!”
Katya walked to the table and grabbed her jacket from the chair.
“Where are you going?” Igor asked, startled.
“To my dad’s. To look at the plot one more time. And to seriously think about buying it.”
“Katya, wait…” He reached for her wrist, but she dodged.
“No. I’m tired of my wishes and my money carrying no weight in our shared decisions.”
“That’s not true!” He stepped into the doorway to block her. “It’s just… we already decided! My parents are waiting, they’re counting on it…”
“And who’s counting on me and what I need?” Katya met his eyes. “I work every day, come home with nothing left, and you want me to spend my weekends on four-hour drives too?”
“We wouldn’t have to go every weekend…”
“Then why buy a country place at all? For status?”
Igor opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Something flashed in his eyes that made Katya wary.
“Igor? Why do you need that specific plot so badly?”
He looked away.
“It’s just… I want to be closer to family…”
“You’re lying,” Katya said quietly. “There’s something else. Tell me the truth.”
A long pause. Igor sighed heavily.
“My dad wants to start a small business. A construction crew, and later maybe a building-supplies shop. He thinks if we have a plot nearby, I’ll be able to… help him. You know—find jobs, bring in clients…”
“Oh, so that’s what it is!” Katya felt everything inside her flip upside down. “So I’m supposed to buy land with my money so you can help your dad build a business?”
“It’s not like that! It would be good for everyone…”
“For everyone except me!” She yanked the door handle. “I’m going to my dad’s. And when I come back, I hope you’ll think about what you really want—a family, or the chance to carry out your parents’ plans with my money.”
“Katya!”
But the door had already slammed shut.
Her father’s plot lay in a quiet corner of the suburbs, surrounded by old pines and birches. Katya walked down the familiar path, breathing in the scent of needles and damp leaves. She’d spent her childhood here—learned how to tell edible mushrooms from poisonous ones, had her first kiss with her first love.
“Thinking?” her father asked. He sat on the old swing set he’d built for her years ago.
“I am, Dad.” She sat on a stump beside him. “How did you know Mom was your person?”
Anatoly Petrovich smirked.
“Because the first day we met, she told me I was hammering nails wrong. And showed me how to do it.”
“And you didn’t get offended?”
“I did,” he laughed. “Sulking for three days. Then I realized she was right. And that I liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to tell the truth.”
Katya fell silent, looking at the old house where she’d grown up.
“And Igor is afraid,” she said quietly.
“Afraid of what?”
“That I’m stronger than he is. That I earn more. That I can make decisions without him.”
Her father nodded.
“Some men see a woman’s strength as a threat. Others see it as a gift.”
“Dad…” Katya turned to him. “Are you really ready to give me those six hundred square meters?”
“I am. They’re just sitting there anyway. And you…” He looked at her with pride. “You can build something real here.”
“And if Igor won’t agree?”
“Then you’ll build on your own.” Her father stood up from the swing. “Katya, you’re an adult woman. You have a profession you love. You have money you earned honestly. And you have a right to happiness. Don’t let anyone—even your husband—dictate the terms of that happiness.”
By the time Katya came home, it was already dark. Igor was sitting in the kitchen with a notebook, writing something.
“I did the math,” he said without looking up. “If we buy near my parents, we’ll have to take a loan. Your savings would only cover the down payment.”
Katya took off her jacket and sat across from him.
“And?”
“And it means we’d be paying the loan for ten years. But if it’s the plot near your dad…” He looked up. “Then we can buy it outright. No debt.”
“You’re ready to give up the plans with your parents?”
Igor was quiet for a long time.
“I’m ready to think about it. But…” He studied her carefully. “I want to understand that it’s our decision. Not yours. Ours.”
“And are you ready for it to really be our decision?” Katya asked. “Or do you just need me to agree with what’s convenient for you?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I need time.”
“How much?”
“A week.”
Katya nodded.
“A week, then. But I won’t wait longer. And I won’t change my decision if you’re not willing to compromise.”
That week dragged on like an eternity. They spoke little, carefully skirting sharp edges. Igor went to his parents’ place several times and came back gloomy and silent. Every evening after work, Katya drove to her father’s, walked the land, and dreamed about the house she could build there.
On Friday, Igor came home with red eyes.
“I fought with my dad,” he said, dropping onto the couch. “He doesn’t understand why I changed my mind. Says you influenced me.”
“And what did you say?”
“That it was my decision.” He looked at her, tired. “Katya, can we do this? If we buy the plot near your dad and build a house… can we manage together?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But I do know we won’t manage if one of us keeps seeing himself as a victim.”
“And I feel like a victim,” he confessed quietly. “Like because I earn less, my voice is quieter.”
Katya walked over and sat beside him.
“Igor, it’s not about money. It’s about the fact that when we were deciding on land, you didn’t ask what I wanted. You just decided you knew what was best for both of us.”
“So what am I supposed to do now?” He took her hand. “I don’t know how to be your equal.”
“Do you want to learn?”
He nodded.
“Then we start with the plot,” Katya said. “Tomorrow we go to Dad’s together. You’ll look at the land, tell me what you think—honestly. And we’ll decide together.”
“And if I don’t like it?”
“Then we’ll look for a third option.” She squeezed his hand. “An option that works for both of us.”
The next day they drove to her father’s in silence. Katya stared out the window, thinking about how much depended on this trip. Not just a plot of land—their marriage was hanging by a thread.
“Beautiful place,” Igor said when they reached the plot.
“It is,” Katya agreed.
They stood in the middle of the six hundred square meters her father was ready to give his daughter. Old apple trees, overgrown raspberry bushes, a small pond in the far corner.
“You could build a good house here,” Igor said thoughtfully. “And a workshop. I’ve wanted to get into woodworking for a long time…”
“Really?” Katya blinked, surprised. “You never said that.”
“Talking and doing are two different things.” He turned to her. “For a plot like this, I’d come every weekend.”
“So it’s decided?”
Igor looked at her for a long moment.
“And will you respect me?” he asked quietly. “Even if I earn less than you?”
“I will—if you stop being angry at me for it.”
“Deal?” He held out his hand.
“Deal.” She shook it.
But on the drive home, Katya kept thinking that the real test was only beginning. Buying a plot was just the first step. Ahead of them were building a house, making hundreds of big and small decisions, and daily work to stay equal partners.
“What are you thinking about?” Igor asked.
“That the plot is only the beginning,” she replied.
“The beginning of what?”
“The beginning of whether we learn to be a family—or…”
She didn’t finish. Some things were better left unsaid—for now.
“Or what?” he pressed.
“Or we’ll realize we don’t fit each other.”
Igor was silent for a long time. Then he said:
“I’ll try. I swear.”
“And I will,” Katya promised.
But deep down, she understood: sometimes wanting it isn’t enough. Sometimes people simply can’t change enough to be happy together. And a piece of land—no matter how beautiful—won’t change that.
