Larisa wiped the sweat from her forehead and set the bucket of water aside. The August heat made working in the garden especially hard, but the tomatoes needed watering. The house she had inherited from her parents sat on the edge of town, and the plot that came with it let them grow vegetables for the winter.
Her husband, Nikolai, sat in the shade on the veranda with his phone in hand. He worked as an engineer at the factory, but on Saturdays he could afford to rest. Larisa envied him—he had a desk job in an air-conditioned office, while she worked as a nurse at a clinic where the old windows barely kept out the summer swelter.
“Kolya, help me fill the watering cans,” Larisa asked as she walked past the veranda.
“I’ll finish the news and come,” Nikolai answered without looking up.
Larisa shook her head and went for the water herself. In seven years of marriage, she had learned to rely only on herself. Nikolai wasn’t a bad husband, but he always left the housework to his wife.
Inside, Larisa went into the bedroom and opened the dresser. In the far corner of a drawer lay a thick envelope. Over the year she had managed to set aside a decent sum to repair the roof. Every month Larisa put away part of her salary, saved on little things, and denied herself new clothes.
The roof needed serious work. Last fall, during the rains, two rooms leaked; they had to set out basins and buckets. The roofers had said the covering needed to be replaced entirely, otherwise the problems would only get worse in winter.
Larisa put the envelope back and returned to the garden. Nikolai was still sitting with his phone. She silently took the watering can and headed to the outdoor pump in the yard.
That evening, Nikolai’s younger brother, Artyom, came by. He was five years younger, worked as a loader, but money never stayed with him. Either the car needed fixing, or he was paying off debts, or he simply blew it on entertainment.
“Hi, Larisa!” Artyom greeted cheerfully as he walked into the house. “How are you? You look great!”
“Hello,” Larisa replied coolly, without looking up from making dinner.
The brothers sat in the kitchen and started discussing a soccer match. Larisa half-listened while focusing on frying patties. Artyom always showed up out of the blue, and such visits usually ended with a request for money.
“Listen, brother,” Artyom finally got to the point. “I’ve got a problem. Can you lend me some until payday?”
Nikolai glanced at his wife, who turned her back to them and faced the stove.
“What happened?” he asked cautiously.
“The car’s shot. The gearbox died. I can’t get to work without it, and buses hardly run to our neighborhood. The mechanic says it’s an expensive repair.”
Larisa set the skillet down with a louder clatter than usual. It was the third time in half a year Artyom had asked for money to fix that same car. First it was the engine, then the brakes, now the gearbox.
“How much do you need?” Nikolai asked.
“Twenty thousand will do. I’ll pay you back fast, as soon as I get my wages.”
Larisa spun around sharply.
“Artyom, you’ve already borrowed from us several times. When have you ever paid back anything?”
“Larisa, don’t jump down my throat,” Artyom said in a conciliatory tone. “I’m not asking forever. It’s just a rough patch.”
“You’re always in a rough patch,” Larisa sat down at the table across from her brother-in-law. “In March you took ten thousand for the engine. In May another fifteen for the brakes. Where’s that money?”
Artyom faltered. “I mean, I work, but the pay is small. I have to cover rent, food…”
“Then live within your means,” Larisa cut him off. “We don’t swim in money either.”
“Larisa, don’t be so harsh,” Nikolai intervened. “Artyom’s family.”
“Family should keep its word,” Larisa stood from the table. “He promised to repay in March—he didn’t. Promised in May—lied again. And now he’s asking once more.”
Artyom sat red-faced with embarrassment. Nikolai shifted awkwardly on his chair.
“Fine, forget it,” the brother finally said. “I’ll manage on my own somehow.”
After dinner Artyom left, and Larisa explained her position to her husband.
“Kolya, I’m not feeding other people’s debts anymore. We have our own plans—the roof needs fixing, the whole house has needed repairs for ages.”
“I understand,” Nikolai nodded. “I just feel sorry for my brother.”
“Feel sorry for our family budget instead,” Larisa cleared the table. “Artyom’s a grown man—let him handle his own problems.”
The next day Larisa left for the clinic earlier than usual—she needed to cover for a colleague. Sunday shifts were usually calm, with few patients, and she expected to finish by lunchtime.
Nikolai stayed home alone. He planned to watch TV and read some technical literature. But around eleven in the morning Artyom called.
“Bro, I’m in real trouble,” his voice sounded desperate. “I have to take the car to the shop tomorrow, and I’ve got no money. The boss said if I don’t show up for work, he’ll fire me.”
“Artyom, we talked about this yesterday…”
“Kolya, I get that Larisa is against it. But maybe you can decide on your own? I’ll really pay you back as soon as I get my salary. Without work I’m done for.”
Nikolai paced the room with the phone. He felt for his brother, but he didn’t want to break his promise to his wife.
“I don’t know, Artyom. Larisa made her position very clear.”
“What if she doesn’t find out?” his brother suggested cautiously. “I’ll return it in a week. Larisa won’t even notice.”
Nikolai hesitated. He knew his wife kept money in an envelope; he’d seen her count it from time to time. The sum there was substantial—if he took part of it and put it back quickly, Larisa really might not notice.
“I can’t take my wife’s money without permission,” Nikolai said, though his voice sounded unsure.
“Kolya, please! I’m not a stranger! And I swear I’ll return it! Without work I’ll be in real trouble.”
His brother sounded so plaintive that Nikolai relented.
“How much exactly?” he asked.
“Twenty thousand will be enough. Kolya, you’ll save me!”
Nikolai checked the time. Larisa wouldn’t be home before two. If he gave Artyom the money now and got it back in a week, he could return it to the envelope and his wife would never know.
“All right,” Nikolai decided. “Come over—quickly. And remember—every ruble has to be back in a week.”
“Thanks, bro! You’re a lifesaver! I’m already on my way!”
Nikolai hung up and went to the bedroom. The envelope lay where Larisa always hid it. He pulled out a stack of banknotes. The sum really was impressive—she had been saving for over a year.
He counted out twenty thousand rubles and put the envelope back. He shoved the money into his pocket and returned to the living room. Ten minutes later Artyom’s car pulled into the yard.
His brother got out wearing a beaming smile. “Kolya, you’re a savior! I’m so grateful!”
“Just remember your promise,” Nikolai said sternly, handing him the cash. “In exactly a week I expect it back.”
“Of course, of course! I’ll try to do it even sooner!”
Artyom got in the car and left. Nikolai went back inside, feeling uneasy. Lying to his wife felt wrong, but he pitied his brother. The main thing was for Artyom to return the money on time.
Larisa came home around three in the afternoon. Her shift had been calm, and she was in a good mood. Her husband sat at the computer, looking over work projects.
“How are you?” Larisa asked, changing into home clothes.
“Fine. Stayed home, did some reading.”
“Did Artyom call again?”
“No,” Nikolai lied, eyes on the screen.
Larisa went to the kitchen to make lunch. Her husband stayed at the computer but couldn’t focus. His thoughts kept returning to the borrowed money and his brother’s promise to repay.
The next day, Nikolai was on edge. He kept thinking about the money and waiting for Artyom to bring it back. His brother had promised to repay in a week, but Nikolai hoped it would be sooner.
On Tuesday Artyom didn’t call. On Wednesday he was silent too. On Thursday Nikolai called him himself.
“How’s it going, Artyom? Is the car fixed?”
“Yeah, all good! Thank you so much! I’m driving to work, the boss is happy.”
“And when will you return the money?”
“Soon, soon! They’re supposed to pay us on Friday—then I’ll settle up.”
“All right, I’m waiting.”
On Friday Artyom still didn’t show. That evening Nikolai called again.
“Did you get paid?”
“We did, but not the full amount. They said they’ll give the rest next week. Kolya, just hang on a little longer.”
“Artyom, I told you—a week, exactly! I need to put the money back!”
“I get it, bro. But what can I do? Management decided that.”
Nikolai hung up in irritation. The week had passed, and there was still no money. He understood he wouldn’t be able to hide the deficit much longer.
On Saturday morning Larisa was getting ready to go grocery shopping. They’d run out of staples, and she needed to restock. She grabbed her bag and left the house.
Nikolai stayed behind and decided to call Artyom again. His brother didn’t pick up for a long time, and when he finally answered, he sounded sleepy.
“Artyom, I need the money—urgently!” Nikolai got straight to the point.
“Kolya, why are you calling so early? It’s Saturday.”
“I don’t care what day it is! Where are my twenty thousand?”
“Maybe you could explain things to Larisa? Tell her your brother had a tough situation and you helped…”
“Have you lost your mind?” Nikolai shouted. “I promised to return it in a week! The week is up!”
“Just wait a bit more. I haven’t disappeared—I’ll find the money and return it.”
Nikolai hung up and grabbed his head. The situation was becoming critical. Larisa still didn’t suspect anything, and Artyom wasn’t going to repay quickly.
He sat on the bed, trying to figure out what to do. Confessing meant a blow-up and losing his wife’s trust. But continuing to hide it was becoming impossible.
Half an hour later Larisa came back. She carried in the grocery bags and went to the kitchen to put things away. Nikolai stayed in the bedroom, at a loss for how to act.
“Kolya, help me unpack!” Larisa called from the kitchen.
He reluctantly left the bedroom. Larisa stood at the table, taking out grains, canned goods, and cleaning supplies.
“You’re acting strange today,” she noticed. “Did something happen?”
“Everything’s fine,” he lied, avoiding her eyes.
Larisa finished with the groceries and went to the bedroom to change. Nikolai stayed in the kitchen, dreading what would happen next.
A minute later an outraged shout came from the bedroom:
“Nikolai! Get in here—now!”
He walked in slowly. Larisa stood by the dresser with the envelope in her hands. Her face was flushed with anger.
“Explain to me where my money went!” she demanded grimly.
Nikolai stood in the doorway, not knowing what to say. The lie had come to light; now he’d have to tell the truth.
“Where is the money, Nikolai?” Larisa repeated, holding the nearly empty envelope.
“Larisa, I can explain…”
“Explain! And fast!”
He walked into the room and sank heavily onto the bed.
“Artyom called on Tuesday. He said he’d be fired without money for repairs. I… took twenty thousand out of your envelope.”
Larisa stared at him in silence. Blood rushed to her face, betraying barely restrained fury.
“You took MY money? Without permission?” her voice grew quieter—the sure sign of real anger.
“I thought I’d return it quickly! Artyom promised to pay it back in a week!”
“And where is it?”
“Artyom says he didn’t get his full wages. He’s asking for a little more time.”
Larisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, her gaze was icy.
“So you stole my savings that I spent a year collecting to give them to your irresponsible brother?”
“I didn’t steal! I wanted to help a relative!”
“With MY money! Without MY consent!” Larisa enunciated every word, loud and clear.
Nikolai tried to stand, but she stopped him with a gesture.
“Sit. I’m not finished. You knew exactly how I felt about lending to Artyom. I said plainly— not another kopeck.”
“But he’s my brother…”
“And I’m your wife—and I forbade it!” she cut him off. “Who matters more to you? A brother who’s cheated us several times already, or your wife, who spent a year setting aside every ruble?”
Nikolai kept silent, knowing any answer would be wrong.
“Do you remember what this money was for?” Larisa pressed. “For the roof— which leaks with every rain! I went without new clothes, didn’t buy expensive cosmetics, saved on everything!”
“Larisa, I’m sorry…”
“And now what? Artyom blew the money as always, and we’re left without funds for the repair?”
She paced the room, trying to calm down.
“How much does he already owe us from the previous loans?” Larisa asked.
“Twenty-five thousand,” Nikolai answered quietly.
“Twenty-five plus twenty makes forty-five thousand!” She stopped in front of him. “Almost half of the roof fund!”
“Artyom will pay it back…”
“When?!” Larisa shouted. “When will he repay the March debt? The May one? Do you really believe those stories?”
Nikolai lowered his head. She was right—his brother had promised several times to repay earlier debts, and the money had never appeared.
“All right,” Larisa said coldly. “Now listen carefully. You are going to call Artyom right now and demand the money. If we don’t have it in an hour, you will find it yourself.”
“Where am I supposed to get twenty thousand?” Nikolai faltered.
“Not my problem. Sell something, borrow from colleagues, take out a loan. But the money has to be back in the envelope today.”
Larisa left the bedroom, slamming the door. Nikolai sat on the bed, trying to process what had happened. She had every right to be angry—he had behaved shamefully.
He pulled out his phone and dialed his brother.
“Artyom, I need the money—right now!”
“Kolya, what’s wrong? Why are you yelling…”
“Larisa found out! She wants the money immediately!”
“Oh… What did you tell her?”
“The truth! That I gave you the money from her savings!”
Artyom was silent for a moment.
“Maybe you could sort it out yourself somehow? I really don’t have any cash.”
“Artyom! You promised a week! The week is over!”
“It just happened this way! I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“I don’t care! Find the money! Sell something!”
“What can I sell? The car? Then how do I get to work?”
Nikolai realized his brother had no intention of repaying anytime soon. He was used to receiving money and not returning it.
“Artyom, if I don’t see the money in an hour, I’m done helping you—forever.”
“Don’t freak out! I’ll find it, I just need time!”
“There is no time!” Nikolai hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed.
He went to the living room. Larisa sat at the table drinking tea, her expression dark.
“Well?” she asked.
“He says he has no money. He’s asking for time.”
“Time’s up,” she said flatly. “Now it’s your turn to find the money.”
Nikolai sat across from her. “Larisa, I know I was wrong…”
“You don’t get it!” she snapped. “You STOLE my money! That’s not a mistake—that’s theft!”
“I wanted to help my brother…”
“At MY expense! If you want to help him, use your own money!”
He tried to take her hand, but she pulled away.
“Don’t touch me. Go find the money.”
He understood there was no point arguing. She wouldn’t forgive him until the envelope was whole again.
Nikolai left the house and got in the car. He had to come up with twenty thousand rubles—fast. Borrowing from colleagues was awkward; people didn’t hand out that kind of cash lightly. A bank loan would take days.
He remembered he had auto parts in the garage that he’d bought a year earlier. He’d planned to do repairs himself, but never got around to it. The parts were expensive—maybe he could sell them.
He drove to the auto market. The parts dealers offered fifteen thousand for the whole set. Not much, but he had no choice.
When he got home, he put the money on the table in front of Larisa.
“Fifteen thousand. I’ll find the other five tomorrow.”
She counted the banknotes. “Not enough. We need twenty.”
“Larisa, I sold everything I could! There’s nothing left!”
She stood, went to the bedroom, and came back with the envelope. She put the fifteen thousand into it.
“I’ll expect the remaining five thousand tomorrow. And everything else Artyom owes.”
“Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?”
“Your problem. You took the money without asking—you fix it.”
Nikolai sat at the table, realizing the scale of the disaster. He still had to find another twenty-five thousand rubles, and had no source for it.
That evening Artyom pulled up outside and leaned on the horn, calling his brother. Nikolai started to get up, but Larisa stopped him.
“Sit. I’ll talk to him myself.”
She went outside and walked up to the car. Artyom rolled down the window.
“Hi, Larisa! Where’s Kolya?”
“Kolya is inside, trying to figure out where to get the money you owe.”
“Look, I really am in a tough spot…”
“I don’t care,” Larisa cut him off. “You’ll get nothing from us! Not a single kopeck—for you or your brother!”
Artyom tried to say something, but she went on:
“You owe us forty-five thousand. Artyom, you’re a grown man. Stop living at other people’s expense.”
“But I’m working! My salary is just small!”
“Then find a better job—or learn to live within your means. But keep your hands off my money.”
Larisa turned and headed back to the house.
“Larisa, wait!” Artyom called after her.
“I have nothing more to say to you,” she replied without turning around.
Artyom sat in the car for a few minutes, then started the engine and drove off.
Larisa went back inside. Nikolai sat in the kitchen looking guilty.
“I hope you heard all that?” she asked.
“I did,” he nodded.
“Remember this once and for all: I’m not giving another ruble to any of your relatives. If you want to help each other—do it with your own money.”
Nikolai stayed silent. He knew she was right, but he still felt sorry for his brother.
“And one more thing,” Larisa added. “If you ever take my money without permission again, I’ll divorce you. The house is mine—I inherited it. You’ll be out on the street.”
“Larisa, I’ll never—”
“Better keep your promise,” she cut him off.
The next day Nikolai borrowed five thousand from a friend and gave it to Larisa. She quietly put the money into the envelope. She barely spoke to him after that, answering in single words.
Artyom didn’t call for several days. Then he finally rang Nikolai.
“Kolya, maybe we could meet? Talk like normal?”
“What’s there to talk about? Where’s the money?”
“Listen, I picked up a second job. I’ll work evenings as a loader. I’ll save up and pay you back in a month.”
“In a month? Is the roof going to fix itself by then?”
“What can I do? I don’t have the money now.”
“Artyom, do you get that because of you I’ve got problems with my wife?”
“I do, but I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
Nikolai hung up. There was no point talking—his brother didn’t grasp how serious this was.
For a week Larisa barely spoke to her husband. Nikolai moved through the days gloomy, burdened with guilt. He couldn’t focus at work, and the atmosphere at home was tense.
Two weeks later Artyom brought five thousand rubles.
“Kolya, here’s part of the debt. I’ll pay the rest bit by bit.”
“Five out of forty-five?” Nikolai was taken aback.
“At least it’s something! I’m showing good will.”
Nikolai took the money and gave it to Larisa. She counted the bills.
“How much does he still owe?” she asked.
“Forty thousand.”
“When will he pay it?”
“He says gradually.”
“‘Gradually’ means years,” she sighed. “Remember—Artyom doesn’t get another kopeck. We’re done funding an able-bodied freeloader.”
Larisa put the money in the envelope and locked it in a small safe she bought the day after the theft.
“From now on the money stays here. I’m the only one who knows the code.”
Nikolai nodded. He understood he had lost her trust for a long time.
Artyom came by a few more times, but Larisa wouldn’t let him in. He tried to negotiate with his brother, but Nikolai explained that his wife’s decision was final.
Gradually, Artyom stopped calling regularly. He realized the gravy train had ended. His visits became rare, only on major holidays.
Nikolai stayed gloomy for a few more days, but never returned to the topic of money for his brother. He understood that his own family was more important than obligations to an irresponsible sibling.
His relationship with his wife mended slowly. Larisa forgave him only a month later, when she was convinced he’d stopped giving Artyom money.
“The family budget is a joint matter,” she said. “We make all big spending decisions together. Neither of us has the right to spend our shared money without the other’s consent.”
Nikolai agreed. It was a harsh but useful lesson—he now understood the value of the family’s savings and the importance of mutual trust.
Artyom kept working two jobs, but repaid the debt slowly. In six months he’d returned only half. Larisa didn’t pressure her brother-in-law, but she categorically refused to lend him anything new.
“Let him learn to live within his means,” she told her husband. “A grown adult should answer for his own debts.”
By autumn they had enough saved to repair the roof. Workers replaced the old covering, and the leaks stopped. Larisa was satisfied—the year of economizing hadn’t been in vain.
Nikolai never again took the family’s money without his wife’s permission. And Artyom learned to solve his financial problems on his own, realizing that relatives aren’t obligated to fund someone else’s irresponsibility.
