I knew this conversation would happen sooner or later. Dmitry was sitting in the kitchen, turning a cup of cold coffee in his hands and clearly trying to work up his nerve. In ten years of marriage I’d learned to read him like an open book—especially when it came to his sister, Olga.
— “Len, I have an idea,” he began without looking up.
— “I’m listening,” I said, continuing to wash the dishes. My stomach had already tightened in anticipation of another “wonderful” idea connected to my sister-in-law.
— “Olga’s turning forty soon. She says she won’t celebrate, but I think we could throw her a surprise. You got a bonus—a good one…”
I slowly set the plate in the rack. There it was. The 100,000-ruble bonus I’d received for successfully wrapping up a project was already allocated in my husband’s head. Not for our trip to the sea, not to replace the old Kalina that had been acting up more and more often, but for a party for Olga Viktorovna.
— “And what are you proposing?” I asked as calmly as I could.
— “Well, she’s always said she dreamed of celebrating at Green Garden. Remember that restaurant on the riverfront? We could rent a room, invite all the relatives…”
— “Dima, that’s very expensive. I looked at the prices—the room plus the banquet will come to at least seventy thousand.”
Dmitry finally looked up. His eyes held that mix of stubbornness and childish hurt that appeared every time the topic was his sister.
— “Lena, try to understand, it’s a milestone! Forty! And she’s not even going to celebrate. I can’t allow that.”
— “Can’t allow what? A grown woman deciding for herself how to spend her birthday?”
— “You don’t understand,” Dmitry stood and began pacing the kitchen. “Olga’s done so much for me. When Mom was working two jobs, it was my sister who raised me. She cooked, did homework with me, took me to practice. I owe her a lot.”
We’d had this conversation a hundred times. Olga was only five years older than Dmitry. When their mother worked two jobs, she herself was fifteen. Yes, she helped with her little brother—that’s normal in a family. But Olga had managed to turn this ordinary family situation into her brother’s lifelong debt.
— “Dima, she was a teenager. Those were her household duties, like any older child has. But even if so, you’ve thanked her more than once. On March 8 you gave her those French perfumes for twenty thousand that she wanted. While I hesitate to buy myself a new lipstick.”
— “That’s different,” he waved it off. “This is a special date.”
— “And the car? We were going to save for a new one. Ours has been in the shop for the third time this month.”
— “The car still runs. Olga’s jubilee happens only once.”
I looked at my husband and realized it was pointless. The decision had already been made. In his head my bonus was already spent on his sister’s party. Just like last year my vacation pay went to her “urgent” apartment repairs, and the summer before that our saved vacation fund “rescued” Olga from a “critical” shortage of money for her son’s school uniform.
— “Fine,” I said. “But you pay for the party with your own money.”
— “Lena, I don’t have that much right now… I don’t get paid until next week. And you have to book ahead.”
— “Then we’ll wait for your paycheck.”
— “But there might not be any dates left! And besides, it’s our joint money. Your bonus is the family budget.”
Family budget. Such a convenient concept when it’s about spending on Olga. But when I wanted to spend on something for myself—a fur coat I’d been dreaming about for three years—that was always “impractical” and “beyond our means.”
— “Dima, I’m tired,” I said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Nothing changed the next day. Dmitry met me after work with shining eyes.
— “Len, I found out everything! Green Garden has an opening next weekend. A room for twenty people will come to sixty-five thousand with the banquet. I’ve already paid the deposit.”
My insides dropped. He’d paid a deposit. With our money. Without even asking.
— “Where did you get the money for the deposit?”
— “Well, I transferred it from a credit card.”
I walked silently into the bedroom. I needed to be alone and think. Dmitry followed me.
— “Lena, don’t pout. Olga will be so happy! She has no idea. Just imagine how surprised she’ll be!”
I turned to him.
— “Can you imagine how surprised I’ll be if I withdraw my bonus from the account tomorrow?”
Dmitry froze.
— “What do you mean?”
— “Exactly what I said. Tomorrow after work I’m going to the bank.”
— “Lena, don’t be foolish. I’ve already paid the deposit. You can’t do that.”
— “I can. You’ll pay the rest with your own money.”
— “Lena, I don’t have that kind of money! You know that.”
— “Then ask Olga. If that party matters so much to her.”
We didn’t speak again that evening.
In the morning I really did withdraw the bonus. Every last ruble. And I headed to the mall.
I spent two hours choosing a fur coat. I tried on about ten. I settled on an elegant dark gray mink. Not the most expensive, but very beautiful. The saleswoman said it suited me very well and that I had excellent taste.
— “Why did you choose this one?” she asked while ringing it up.
— “Oh, no reason,” I smiled. “My husband was going to spend my bonus on his sister’s party, but I arranged a surprise they’ll remember for a long time.”
In the end I didn’t buy the coat in the store. I decided to save money and found the exact same one with a huge discount on a classifieds site. I decided to give myself a present.
Olga’s birthday was celebrated in grand style. Dmitry, of course, borrowed money from a friend and paid the balance for the restaurant. Olga was over the moon—flitting between the tables, receiving congratulations, posing for photos. At one point she came over to us.
— “Dimochka, Lenochka,” she hugged us both. “I’m so grateful to you! It’s incredibly expensive—such a restaurant, such a banquet. Thank you so much!”
Dmitry gave an embarrassed smile.
— “Come on, Ol, no need to thank us. Lena had a bonus, so it’s fine.”
Olga turned to me with a smile.
— “Lena dear, what bonus? Share the good news!”
I looked at her, then at my husband.
— “There’s no bonus, Olga.”
— “What do you mean, no?” Dmitry didn’t get it.
— “I spent it. On a fur coat I’d long dreamed of. It cost about as much as your party.”
Silence fell. Olga looked from me to her brother in confusion.
— “Lena, what are you saying?” Dmitry paled. “What coat? How are we supposed to live now?”
— “Well, darling, that’s our problem,” I said, looking at Olga. “Maybe we could borrow from the birthday girl? Olga, you do understand the position this party put us in.”
Olga stepped back.
— “Sorry, but that has nothing to do with me. That’s your family business. I didn’t order a party. Sort it out yourselves.”
And she moved off to the other guests, pretending nothing had happened.
Dmitry stood there with his jaw hanging. He understood. He finally understood how this game works. When money is needed for Olga—it’s the “family budget” and “our common funds.” When Olga is asked for help—it’s “your family problems.”
We drove home in silence. At home Dmitry sat on the couch and stared at one spot for a long time.
— “Lena,” he said at last. “I’m ashamed.”
— “Of what?”
— “Of everything. That I didn’t listen to you. That I spent the money without your consent. That I didn’t notice how Olga behaved when we needed help.”
I sat down beside him.
— “Dima, I don’t want you to stop talking to your sister. But I want you to understand—our family is you and me. And our interests have to come first.”
— “You’re right,” he nodded. “I get it. I’m sorry. And the fur coat… is it beautiful?”
I laughed.
— “Very. Want the truth? It cost much less than Olga’s party. I bought it secondhand, online. So we’re not as broke as you think.”
Dmitry hugged me.
— “What a punishment of a wife I have.”
— “Serves you right,” I said, settling on his shoulder. “Now let’s plan how we’ll spend what’s left. And fair warning—if you suggest buying Olga something to apologize for her ‘spoiled’ party, I’ll buy a second fur coat on credit.”
Dmitry laughed—for the first time in many days.
— “I won’t suggest it. The show you put on was plenty. I think she learned something, too.”
— “I doubt it,” I said honestly. “But that’s not our problem anymore.”
The next day Olga called Dmitry. I heard only his side of the conversation.
— “Yeah, Ol, everything’s fine… No, Lena hasn’t lost her mind… You see, she was right… No, we’re not borrowing from anyone… Yes, we’ll manage ourselves…”
After the call he set down the phone and shook his head.
— “Did she offer help?”
— “In a sense. She said she could give us contacts for a lending company.”
I snorted.
— “Of course. That’s much easier than just lending us the money that was spent on her party.”
— “Okay, enough about Olga,” Dmitry said. “Let’s decide where to spend the rest. I have a suggestion.”
— “What kind?”
— “Let’s go to that restaurant on the riverfront. Not Green Garden, the smaller one. We’ll celebrate your bonus. Properly.”
— “With or without the fur coat?” I asked.
— “Definitely with the fur coat. Let everyone see what a beautiful and smart wife I have.”
I kissed him.
— “Deal.”
That evening, trying on the fur coat in front of the mirror, I thought about how important it is sometimes to act not the way people expect. Dmitry had lived for years with a sense of debt to his sister. And that debt only grew—the more he gave, the more he felt he owed.
I simply showed him what happens when the “debtor” says “no.” Olga instantly turned from a grateful sister into a cold acquaintance. Family ties proved strong only so long as they were convenient.
The fur coat really did suit me. And not just on the outside. It became a symbol that I have the right to spend money on myself. That my wishes matter, too. And that sometimes you need a small revolution to restore fairness.
A month later Olga called again. This time with a request. She needed money for a tutor for her son.
— “Dima, understand, it’s a child’s education!” she pleaded. “Just ten thousand a month.”
Dmitry looked at me. I shrugged—as if to say, your call.
— “Olga,” he said into the phone. “Remember how a month ago you said our financial problems were our family business? Well, your issues with a tutor are your family business.”
— “Dima, what are you saying?” Olga couldn’t believe it. “He’s your nephew!”
— “A nephew I see maybe twice a year and for whom I’m basically just a source of birthday gifts? Ol, find the money yourself. Or ask your husband.”
— “Dima, I don’t understand what’s gotten into you! It’s all that Lena filling your head!”
Dmitry frowned.
— “Olya, don’t you dare talk about my wife like that. That’s one. And two—no one’s filling my head. I just realized that my family is Lena and me. And you’re my sister, whom I love, but who needs to solve her problems herself.”
After that call Olga took offense. She stopped inviting us to family gatherings, stopped sending birthday wishes. Dmitry worried at first, but then said it was better that way—less stress.
And I still wear that fur coat. And every time I put it on, I remember the day I decided to arrange a surprise they wouldn’t forget. Sometimes you have to spend money not on what others expect, but on what you need. And then everything immediately falls into place.
Now Dmitry consults me on every expense. And when, on another birthday, I received a bonus, he said:
— “Len, maybe we’ll spend it on a vacation? Or on a car?”
— “Or maybe on a new coat?” I suggested with a smile.
— “Great idea,” he agreed. “Only let’s pick it out together.”
That’s how we live now—as a family. A real family, where decisions are made together and money is spent on the two of us. And Olga? Olga found other sources of funding. They say now a cousin on her husband’s side helps her with money. I wonder how long that will last?
But that’s no longer our story. Our story ended well—with a mink coat and the understanding that a family should be equal. And that sometimes you need to be a bit mischievous to show your loved ones how things really work.
