Nastya was furious at that level of nerve. Being confronted with demands in public? That was beyond anything reasonable. She decided she would put a stop to this treatment once and for all—even though her own husband seemed to think it was perfectly normal.
“Anastasia Aleksandrovna, your husband is on the line,” the secretary said. “He says your cell phone is turned off.”
Damn it, Nastya thought. She’d meant to plug her phone in as soon as she got to work, but she’d been dragged straight into the whirlpool of tasks and simply forgotten. Who knew how many important calls she’d already missed?
She thanked the secretary and picked up the receiver.
“Hi, Dim. What’s going on?”
“Nastya… will you be really upset if I can’t go to the movies with you on Saturday?” her husband asked carefully.
“Again?”
“Yeah. Again.”
“Whose event is it this time?”
“Aunt Nyura’s birthday. Honestly, I barely even remember who she is. But Mom called just now and said I have to show up.”
“By yourself?”
“Nast, don’t start,” Dima sighed into the phone. “It’s going to be painfully boring—and like always, by the end of the night someone will tell someone else where to go.”
Nastya knew exactly why she was never invited to their celebrations. Once, long before she became the head of her own firm, she’d accidentally overheard her mother-in-law talking to her sister-in-law. They’d fondly called her “our little office rat,” and Nastya knew very well why.
Ever since graduating and starting her legal career, she’d preferred restrained suits in neutral colors. Gray, brown, black—those were her favorites. Subtle makeup, an unchanging strict hairstyle, and a neat colorless manicure all said the same thing: nothing should distract clients from the person they had chosen to trust. People valued her for that composure, calm, and intelligence—men and women alike.
But Dima’s relatives—who loved bright nails, fluffy lashes, and loud outfits—could only see her one way. A plain gray mouse. What else was there to say?
So after attending only a handful of family events, Nastya realized she felt far too out of place, and that at those “celebrations of life” she was clearly the extra piece. Neither her mother-in-law nor her sister-in-law insisted that their dull daughter-in-law show up, so from then on they invited only Dmitry.
Before long, Nastya grew tired of working for someone else. Fighting through fear, she quit—not to sit at home, but to build a small firm of her own. Of course her clients happily followed her. Even raising her fees didn’t scare anyone off. And soon it turned out that Nastya was earning more than her husband.
Dmitry, meanwhile, worked at a car dealership, where they were forever cutting commissions or canceling bonuses.
“Start your own business—you have contacts. Why sit on a salary when in your field you live by hustle?” Nastya urged him more than once. “I’ll help with the legal side. We’ve got resources right now.”
“You want me to become a shady reseller?” Dmitry would snap. “At least here it’s stable and respectable. I don’t want to take that kind of risk.”
“Well, I took a risk. And I got lucky.”
“Sure, but you work without weekends and you’re responsible for everything. What if someone quits? What if a client drops you? No, I can’t live like that.”
That’s roughly how every conversation on the subject ended. Eventually Nastya avoided the topic altogether. If someone didn’t want to take risks, that was their choice.
At Aunt Nyura’s birthday, Dmitry was seated between his mother and his sister. Naturally, they started trading the latest family commentary.
“So, Dim, how’s your Lyudmila Prokofyevna?” his younger sister Katya asked with a sly smile, referencing the stern-but-competent heroine from Office Romance.
“Yeah, how is she?” his mother, Svetlana Alekseyevna, teased. “Has she moved into the office for good?”
“She’s doing great. The firm’s growing, her earnings are rising. She’s already passed me,” Dmitry admitted.
“Seriously? A firm?” Katya stared. “Wasn’t she working in some office as the ‘fetch-and-carry’ girl?”
“That was ages ago—couple of years back. Now she’s her own boss. Several people work for her, plus interns.”
“Dim, how much does she actually make? You keep saying ‘more than you.’ How much is ‘more’?” his mother asked, suddenly curious.
Dmitry named a figure with five zeros, and both women clutched their heads, genuinely shocked that such money existed.
“So that means she’s already paid off her apartment?” Katya poured herself more sparkling wine and kept staring at her brother wide-eyed.
“Yep. Cleared the whole thing before New Year’s,” Dmitry said proudly.
“Oh, what a clever girl!” Svetlana Alekseyevna suddenly sang in a syrupy voice. “So why do you never bring her with you?”
“I just thought… maybe you two weren’t exactly thrilled with each other,” Dmitry hesitated.
“What are you talking about? I’ve always liked Nastya—she’s great.”
“Exactly! What is this? The daughter-in-law never visits?” his mother added, piling more salad onto his plate while she and Katya exchanged a knowing look. “Fix that, Dima.”
“Nastya, can you come with me to my parents’ this weekend?” Dima asked later, choosing a tie in front of the mirror. “Brown or blue?” he asked when she entered the room.
“Burgundy,” she said, pulling out a third option and holding it up to his shirt. “Yes—perfect.”
“Thanks. So… can you?”
“And why exactly?”
“I don’t know. Last time they scolded me for always showing up without you,” Dima shrugged. “Mom’s niece had her first baby. They’re celebrating.”
“Oh. That’s… a sudden invitation.”
“We don’t have to sit there all night,” he hurried to reassure her. “We’ll come, congratulate them, hand over the gift, say a toast—and go home.”
“And what gift are we supposed to bring?”
“Mom said they made a list of useful gifts and divided them up. We got the stroller. She dictated the model and name—I wrote it down somewhere…” Dima patted his pockets, searching. “Ah—here.” He handed her a torn piece of calendar paper folded into quarters.
Nastya took out her phone and typed the stroller model into the search bar.
“So you’re telling me we’re supposed to gift a stroller that costs sixty thousand rubles?” she exclaimed, a mix of disbelief and outrage in her voice.
“Sixty?” Dima blinked. “I didn’t even look. Is that expensive? Aren’t strollers all pricey?”
“I don’t shop for strollers. But if we were assigned something that expensive, what are the closer relatives giving? A car for the new mom?” Nastya smirked.
“Look, Mom said it’s the best on the market for price and quality. How would I know what’s expensive and what isn’t?” Dima shrugged.
“Fine. A stroller, then.”
This time, everyone was delighted to see Nastya at a family celebration. Her mother-in-law hovered around her, offering every dish on the table, her sister-in-law entertained her with stories, and the rest of the relatives oohed and aahed over the stroller, nodding gratefully at Nastya and Dima.
For the record, most of the other gifts were modest. The only truly pricey one besides Nastya’s was a certificate for a year’s supply of diapers, emailed by a relative from another city. Everyone else stuck to cheap baby monitors, little outfits, and simple baby trinkets.
Less than a month later, Nastya was invited to her mother-in-law’s name day. Nastya had no idea what a name day even was or how it was celebrated, but Dima warned her that for Svetlana Aleksandrovna it mattered no less than, say, March 8th.
“So what do people give for something like that?” Nastya asked.
“You know I’m not great at this,” Dima admitted, “but I asked Katya, and she suggested diamond earrings.”
“Nice. I wouldn’t say no to diamond earrings either,” Nastya said, pressing her lips together.
“But you already have some.”
“Yeah—because I bought them for myself, remember? Doesn’t mean I’d refuse them as a gift.” She winked playfully.
“Oh, Nast… the management’s changing at work—they say everything’s going to improve, salaries too. And then we’ll really live! I’ll buy you diamond earrings and a ring!” Dima promised, fired up.
“I’m holding you to that. So—what kind of earrings does she want?”
“Katya sent me a link, hang on…” Dima disappeared into his phone.
When the day came, Svetlana Aleksandrovna welcomed her guests with excited energy.
“My favorite children are here!” she exclaimed when Dima and Nastya arrived. “I saved special seats for you. Come on—quickly, to the table!” she fussed nonstop.
Everyone else was already there, and only two “honor” chairs beside the birthday woman remained empty.
So those must be for the suddenly ‘favorite’ children, Nastya thought, smiling.
All evening Svetlana Aleksandrovna shifted impatiently on her chair. It was obvious she was waiting for presents. When the moment finally came, she almost knocked over the soup tureen as she rushed out from behind the table to accept congratulations. She took the gifts quickly—clearly saving her attention for the main one.
“Mom, and from us…” Dima handed her the coveted little box. “Just a small token, so you always sparkle.”
“I hope you like it,” Nastya added, but her mother-in-law had already snatched the box and was ripping off the ribbon.
Inside were neat, pretty white-gold earrings that immediately glittered under the lamps.
To Nastya’s surprise, Svetlana Aleksandrovna’s face didn’t light up—disappointment spread across it instead.
“But I wanted the other ones…” she complained, turning to Katya. “Look—these aren’t them. The ones were rose gold, and the stones were bigger…”
Her daughter hurried over.
“Yeah, not those,” she confirmed.
“I’m sorry, but the pair you wanted is temporarily out of stock,” Nastya stepped in smoothly. “I took the liberty of choosing another set. In my opinion, these are even more refined and stylish.”
“Oh, sure. You’re a big expert on style,” her mother-in-law muttered.
“You don’t like them? I’ll return them,” Nastya said, reaching for the box. “Returns on jewelry are tricky, but that company is our client, so they’ll meet us halfway.”
“No. Leave it,” Svetlana Aleksandrovna snapped, clenching the box and returning to her seat.
That night, Nastya lay awake for a long time, replaying everything. She had a persistent feeling she was being used—but she couldn’t understand why it had started only now. Before, she hadn’t been a wanted guest at their gatherings, and no one had ever “assigned” gifts to them. Dima used to show up with the same bouquet and a generic gift certificate.
By morning, she’d decided she would ask her husband directly what he thought.
“Dim, don’t you find it strange that your mom didn’t like the earrings?” Nastya asked, already running late and taking greedy last sips of coffee.
“Of course not! Try understanding women,” her husband laughed, waving it off.
“It’s just… diamonds aren’t a cheap gift,” Nastya shrugged. “If I were her, I’d be embarrassed to ask that of a daughter-in-law who isn’t the daughter of an oligarch.”
“Well, I told her you already earn more than I do,” Dima replied. “So she figured it’s nothing for you.”
“Nothing?” Nastya’s voice sharpened. “You think fifty thousand rubles for a holiday I’d never even heard of is ‘nothing’?”
“Okay, okay—I phrased it wrong. Not ‘nothing.’ But she didn’t know how much they’d cost.”
“You know what? I lived just fine without your family holidays before—and I’ll keep living that way from now on.”
Nastya didn’t wait for his answer. She grabbed her laptop bag and walked out into the hallway.
That same evening, they made up. Nastya apologized for snapping, and Dima admitted his relatives could be more modest. The next month passed in calm, almost idyllic peace.
Then one phone call shattered it.
After it, Dima came into the bedroom with a guilty look and stopped in the doorway as if waiting for judgment.
Nastya was bent over her laptop, answering work emails. Seeing him, she smiled, took off her glasses, and closed the lid.
“What’s with that face?” she asked with a grin. “Like you did something?”
“Nast… it’s Katya’s birthday. They invited us,” he said, and Nastya’s smile vanished at once. “But if you don’t want to go, we won’t. She’ll just be upset.”
“And what are we supposed to gift this time?” she asked coldly.
“Well… Mom says Katya broke her phone. She needs a new one,” Dima said, trying not to look at her.
“Oh, that’s easy. You can get a perfectly good phone for five thousand. I’ll show you,” Nastya relaxed and opened her laptop again.
“No, Nast… she wants an iPhone.”
“An iPhone?” Nastya lifted her brows. “Then she should get a job.”
“Nast… Mom asked so much,” Dima pleaded, sitting down beside her and stroking her hand.
In that moment, Nastya understood: it wasn’t just her greedy mother-in-law and the rest of the family. Even her husband was willing to use her. Over the years, he’d done nothing to improve their finances—yet now he was draining money out of her right alongside his relatives. And then a sly smile lit her face. They weren’t going to get away with this so easily.
“Fine,” she said as calmly as she could. “An iPhone, then an iPhone.”
“Nast, seriously? You’re amazing!”
Nastya and Dima stopped for a bouquet and went to Svetlana Aleksandrovna’s place.
“Nast, come on—show me!” her husband kept peeking impatiently at the gift-wrapped box.
“What, you want me to unwrap it just for you?” she laughed. “I’ll give it to her, and then you can snatch it from Katya and play with it.”
“Can I have one too? It’s the last one, right?”
“Yes, the last. And yes—you can,” Nastya said, looking at him with a mix of pity and disgust. He didn’t notice.
When it was time for presents, Nastya and Dima were invited first—because Katya truly wanted only one gift: a brand-new phone.
“Happy birthday,” Nastya said, handing her the package.
Katya tore off the wrapping—and then froze, rummaging through the contents in confusion.
“What is this?”
“That’s a card,” Nastya said, “and in the box there’s a list of job openings I recommend you look at. I carefully selected and printed what I think are the best options for you. Here—” she pulled out one sheet, “—with this, you’ll be able to earn your dream by summer.” She smiled pleasantly.
“What is wrong with you? Are you mocking me?” Katya snapped. “Where’s my iPhone?”
“Katya, wait—wait,” their mother rushed over. “Nastya, you came to a celebration, we invited you kindly—you’re supposed to give a gift.”
“You didn’t invite me to any celebrations until you found out how much I earn,” the daughter-in-law said in front of the entire family.
Everyone went silent. Even Dmitry dropped his eyes to the floor.
“Oh, Nastya dear, but you can afford it,” Svetlana Aleksandrovna coaxed. “If you didn’t buy the phone, give her the money—Katya will buy it herself. You’re busy, I understand.”
“Do you even realize how shameless this is?” Nastya asked, her voice hard. “Or do you still think your ‘little office rat’ owes you something?”
Svetlana Aleksandrovna and Katya flushed red. They understood their plan had failed—and their little “magic shop” had closed.
Nastya turned to Dima.
“I’m going home. I’ll pack your things. Go back to your family,” she said, sweeping her gaze over everyone present. “I bought the apartment before the marriage, so I’m not going to support you. The day after tomorrow, my assistant will call and send you all the necessary paperwork.”
