Veronika was sitting at her computer, checking the third-quarter reports, when her phone pinged with a salary deposit notification. Seventy-eight thousand rubles. Not a fortune, of course, but decent enough for an accountant at a small company.
She leaned back in her chair and stretched. The end of the month was always exhausting: balancing accounts, checking documents, answering endless questions from management.
She got home around seven in the evening. Her key turned quietly in the lock, but Vasilisa Borisovna still heard it. Her mother-in-law appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Oh, Veronika, you’re home. Dinner is ready. Come sit down.”
“Good evening, Vasilisa Borisovna. Thank you, but I’m not very hungry. I’ll eat later.”
Her mother-in-law pressed her lips together but said nothing.
Veronika went into the room and dropped her bag onto the armchair. Prokhor was lying on the sofa with his phone, scrolling through the news feed.
“Hi. How was your day?”
“I’m tired. Same as always at the end of the month.”
“Did you get paid?”
“Yes.”
Prokhor nodded without looking up from the screen.
Veronika changed into home clothes, took out her phone, and checked her balance once more. Seventy-eight thousand. Thirty thousand would go toward rent, utilities, and groceries — their shared expenses. The rest was hers.
She had been planning to finally buy herself a proper blouse for work. The one she had been wearing for the past six months had already faded. And maybe a good face cream, not something cheap from the drugstore. Small things, really, but pleasant ones.
She came out to the kitchen. Vasilisa Borisovna was setting the table.
“Veronika, maybe you’ll eat after all?”
“I will, Vasilisa Borisovna.”
The three of them had dinner together — Veronika, Prokhor, and his mother. In silence. Forks clinked against plates. Outside the window, evening thickened into darkness.
Then Vasilisa Borisovna put down her fork and looked at her daughter-in-law.
“Veronika, did you get your salary today?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Veronika frowned.
“The usual.”
“So, seventy-eight thousand?”
“Yes.”
Her mother-in-law nodded as if confirming information she already knew.
“And what are you planning to do with it?”
The question hung awkwardly in the air. Veronika set down her fork.
“Vasilisa Borisovna, it’s my money.”
“Of course, of course. I’m just curious. Are you going to waste it again on creams and clothes?”
“On things I need, yes.”
Vasilisa Borisovna gave a small, mocking smile.
“Things you need. Every month you need something. Lipstick, a blouse, some other nonsense. What about the family? Have you ever tried thinking about the family?”
Veronika felt the familiar irritation begin to boil inside her.
“I pay for groceries and utilities. Doesn’t that count?”
“That is your duty. And where does the rest go?”
“The rest is mine. I earn it, I spend it.”
“You earn it,” her mother-in-law scoffed. “You sit in an office shuffling papers. Prokhor works on a construction site, with his hands, while you…”
“Mom, enough,” Prokhor interrupted. “Don’t start.”
But his voice sounded weak, without conviction. Vasilisa Borisovna noticed it and continued.
“I’m only saying that in a family, money should be saved, not thrown away on foolishness. When my late husband and I were married, we always had a common savings box. Nobody stuffed their own pockets.”
Veronika stood up from the table.
“Excuse me. I need to take a shower.”
She left without waiting for an answer.
In the bathroom, she locked the door, turned the water hot, and stood under the stream. It was always the same thing. Vasilisa Borisovna considered it her duty to control her daughter-in-law’s spending. And Prokhor stayed silent. Or worse — agreed with his mother.
A month earlier, it had been the same story. Veronika had bought herself a pair of shoes. Not expensive ones — five thousand rubles — but comfortable. Her mother-in-law saw the box and launched into an interrogation.
Why? What for? The old shoes were still perfectly fine!
And Prokhor had sat there beside them, nodding.
Later, after Vasilisa Borisovna had left, Veronika had asked him:
“Do you really think I don’t have the right to buy myself shoes?”
“That’s not what I mean, Veronika. It’s just… Mom is right. We need to save money.”
“Save on what? I’m not taking it from our shared money!”
“Still. You could have put it aside.”
Veronika had simply gone to the bedroom and refused to speak to him for the rest of the evening.
But nothing had changed. Vasilisa Borisovna kept ridiculing every purchase, and Prokhor kept taking his mother’s side.
Veronika stepped out of the shower, dried herself, and wrapped a towel around her hair. She had left her phone on the table in the bedroom, as usual.
When she entered the room, the phone was gone.
She looked around. She clearly remembered putting it beside the charger. Had Prokhor taken it?
She went into the living room.
Her husband was sitting on the same sofa, but now he was looking at her phone. His fingers moved quickly across the screen.
“Prokhor, what are you doing?”
He flinched and turned sharply. He tried to close the app, but Veronika had already stepped closer and snatched the phone from his hands.
“Are you going through my phone?”
“No, I was just…”
Veronika looked at the screen.
The banking app.
Transaction history.
The latest entry showed a transfer of seventy-eight thousand rubles to Vasilisa Borisovna’s card. Today’s date. Ten minutes ago.
The room seemed to tilt.
Veronika stared at the screen, reading the amount again and again.
Her entire salary.
Every last ruble.
Transferred to her mother-in-law.
“What… what is this?”
Prokhor stood up and took a step back.
“Veronika, listen…”
“You transferred my salary to your mother?” Her voice broke into a scream. “Are you out of your mind?”
She threw the phone onto the table. It bounced, the screen flickered, but it did not go dark.
“You took my phone without permission and transferred my money?”
“Veronika, calm down…”
“Calm down? You stole my money!”
“I didn’t steal anything!” Prokhor raised his voice. “It was a family decision!”
“What family decision? Who decided? You?”
He ran a hand over his face and inhaled deeply.
“Mom said… you spend too much on useless things. She said the money should be saved.”
“And you decided to give it to her?”
“Not give it. Just temporarily hand it over. So you wouldn’t spend it on nonsense. Mom knows how to handle money. She’ll help us save.”
Veronika froze.
For a few seconds, she simply stood there, unable to say a word.
Then she spoke slowly, syllable by syllable.
“Prokhor. I earn seventy-eight thousand. You earn fifty-two. I pay for groceries, utilities, and internet. That’s thirty thousand. I’m left with forty-eight. My forty-eight thousand. And you think you have the right to decide where it goes?”
“I’m the husband. I’m the head of the family.”
“A head of the family doesn’t steal from his wife.”
“It’s not stealing!”
“Then what is it? You took my phone without permission, opened my bank app, and transferred the money. That is theft.”
Prokhor clenched his fists and tried to speak more calmly.
“Veronika, you don’t understand. Mom is right. You really do spend too much on yourself. Every month you buy something. And we need to save for the future.”
“What future? We are living right now. And I have the right to buy things for myself.”
“But they’re unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary to you. Necessary to me. I work. I get tired. And if I want to buy myself a blouse or a face cream, that is my business.”
“You’re selfish.”
The word landed heavily, like a stone.
Veronika recoiled.
“What did you say?”
“You’re selfish,” Prokhor repeated. “You only think about yourself. You don’t think about the family.”
“The family,” Veronika repeated with a dry, humorless laugh. “I contribute more to this family than you do. Who bought the groceries last time? I did. Who paid for the internet? I did. Who covered the utilities last month? Also me. And what have you done for this family, Prokhor?”
“I work!”
“So do I. I just earn more.”
His face turned red.
“That’s temporary. I’ll get a raise soon.”
“Soon,” Veronika echoed bitterly. “You’ve been saying ‘soon’ for three years. Meanwhile, I’m feeding this family. And you still have the nerve to steal my money…”
“I didn’t steal it! I gave it to Mom for safekeeping!”
“Without my permission. That is theft.”
Vasilisa Borisovna appeared in the doorway. She had clearly heard everything.
“Veronika, stop shouting at my son.”
“You!” Veronika turned sharply toward her mother-in-law. “What right do you have to interfere in our finances?”
“I am his mother. And the grandmother of his future children. I care about this family.”
“You care? You stole my salary!”
“Nobody stole anything,” Vasilisa Borisovna said, stepping closer and folding her arms. “Prokhor did the right thing. You throw money around left and right. Someone had to stop this chaos.”
“There is no chaos! I spend my own money.”
“You are married. That means the money is shared.”
“No. The money I earn belongs to me.”
“What pride,” her mother-in-law sneered. “You earn it. You sit at a computer pressing buttons. What an achievement.”
“Vasilisa Borisovna, you have no idea what I do.”
“I know enough. You do nonsense. My son works hard on a construction site.”
“Your son earns twenty-six thousand less than I do.”
“Because he is underappreciated! You simply found yourself a comfortable job.”
Veronika laughed sharply, almost hysterically.
“A comfortable job? Five years at university, three years gaining experience — that’s what you call comfortable?”
“Yes,” Vasilisa Borisovna nodded. “And now you’ve become arrogant. Counting your own money. Refusing to let your husband manage it.”
“I am not obligated to let him manage it.”
“You are. You are his wife.”
“Being a wife does not mean being powerless.”
“It means being part of a family. And in a family, everything is shared.”
Veronika turned to Prokhor.
“Do you hear this? Your mother thinks I’m supposed to hand over my salary to her.”
Prokhor stayed silent, staring at the floor.
“Prokhor, I am talking to you.”
“What do you want me to say?” he finally asked, lifting his head. “Mom is right. You let go of money too easily.”
“Easily? I buy myself one thing a month. One blouse, one lipstick. That’s what you call easy?”
“You could live without it.”
“You can live without a lot of things, Prokhor. People can live in caves and chew roots too. But I don’t want to.”
“You see?” Vasilisa Borisovna cut in. “Capricious. She needs everything. But she doesn’t think about the family.”
“I think about the family more than you do. I pay for this family.”
“Money isn’t everything.”
“Then what is?” Veronika stepped toward her mother-in-law. “What do you measure a person’s contribution by, Vasilisa Borisovna? Control? Humiliation? Theft?”
“Watch your tongue, girl.”
“Or what? You’ll steal the rest too?”
Vasilisa Borisovna stepped forward and jabbed a finger against Veronika’s chest.
“We didn’t steal anything. The money is inside the family, under supervision. When you learn how to handle it, you’ll get it back.”
“I’ll get it back?” Veronika nearly choked with outrage. “It’s my money. I already received it. Into my account.”
“And Prokhor moved it somewhere it will actually be useful.”
Veronika turned to her husband.
“Return the money. Right now.”
Prokhor hesitated.
“Veronika, let’s discuss this…”
“There is nothing to discuss. You stole my salary. Return it.”
“I didn’t steal it. I gave it to Mom to keep safe.”
“Without my consent. That is theft. Return the money.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom is right!” Prokhor raised his voice. “You waste money, Veronika. Every month you buy something. We need to save.”
“Save for what? We have everything we need.”
“For the future. For children.”
“We don’t have children.”
“But we will. And what then? Will you keep spending on yourself while the child gets whatever is left?”
Veronika shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing.
“Prokhor, are you seriously talking about future children right now? We haven’t even planned any.”
“We should plan. And we should save for them.”
“Then save your own money. Don’t touch mine.”
“Your money is family money.”
“No,” Veronika said firmly. “My money is my money. And I demand it back.”
Prokhor looked at his mother.
Vasilisa Borisovna gave a small shake of her head.
Refusal.
He spread his hands helplessly.
“I can’t, Veronika.”
“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”
“Mom won’t give it back.”
“Then let Mom tell me that herself.”
Veronika turned to her mother-in-law.
“Vasilisa Borisovna, return my money.”
“No.”
“That is theft.”
“That is care.”
“Care? You stole seventy-eight thousand rubles and call it care?”
“I’m protecting it from your irresponsibility.”
“You have no right.”
“I have the right to care about my son. And you are ruining him with your spending.”
“I don’t spend his money. I spend mine.”
“There is no ‘mine’ in marriage. There is only ‘ours.’”
Veronika stood there with clenched fists, trying to breathe evenly.
Inside, everything was boiling — anger, hurt, humiliation, all tangled into one tight knot.
“Fine,” she said slowly. “If you believe everything in marriage is shared, then I can also manage Prokhor’s money, right?”
“Of course,” Vasilisa Borisovna replied. “You are his wife.”
“Excellent. Prokhor, give me your phone. I’ll transfer your salary to myself for safekeeping.”
His face went pale.
“What?”
“You heard me. If the money is shared, then your salary is shared too. Give me your card.”
“Veronika, that’s ridiculous…”
“Why is it ridiculous? You took my salary. I’ll take yours. Fair enough.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Prokhor faltered and found no answer.
Vasilisa Borisovna stepped in.
“Prokhor needs his money for work. Lunches. Transportation.”
“And I don’t? I go to work too. I need transportation too. I need to eat too.”
“You can take from the shared money.”
“What shared money? You just took everything.”
Her mother-in-law pressed her lips together but said nothing.
Veronika looked at her husband.
“Prokhor, I am asking you one last time. Will you return the money?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because this is the right thing to do. Mom will keep it, and when we need it for something important, she’ll give it back.”
“Something important,” Veronika repeated. “And who decides what is important?”
“We do. The family.”
“So, you and your mother.”
“Yes.”
“And I am not family?”
“You are. But you don’t know how to manage money.”
Veronika nodded once. Slowly.
“I see.”
She turned and walked into the bedroom.
Prokhor called after her.
“Veronika, where are you going?”
She didn’t answer.
She pulled a bag out of the wardrobe and began packing. Jeans, T-shirts, underwear.
Prokhor came into the room.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“Where are you going?”
“Away from here.”
“Veronika, don’t be stupid. This is your home.”
“No,” she said, continuing to fold her things. “This is a place where my money is stolen and called care. I don’t live here anymore.”
“You can’t just leave.”
“I can. And I am.”
Prokhor grabbed her arm.
“Stop. Let’s talk normally.”
Veronika yanked her hand free.
“What is there to talk about? You stole my salary. Your mother believes she has the right to control my money. The two of you decide what I need and what I don’t. What exactly is left to discuss?”
“I wanted what was best.”
“What was best? Prokhor, you took my phone without asking. You opened my bank app. You transferred all my money. That is a crime.”
“It’s not a crime. It’s a family matter.”
“No. It is theft. And I will not live with a thief.”
Veronika zipped up the bag and grabbed her jacket.
Prokhor blocked the doorway.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“Prokhor, I’m saying this one last time. Move.”
“Veronika, calm down. We’ll talk everything through. I’ll return the money if it matters so much to you.”
“Will you return it now?”
He hesitated.
“Well… not right now. Tomorrow. Mom is probably asleep already. I won’t wake her.”
“So you won’t return it.”
“I will. Tomorrow.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Veronika walked around him and headed for the door.
Vasilisa Borisovna was standing in the living room.
“Where do you think you’re going, daughter-in-law?”
“That is none of your business.”
“It is very much my business. You are my son’s wife.”
“I was his wife. I won’t be anymore.”
Her mother-in-law smirked.
“You’re divorcing over money? How petty.”
Veronika stopped and looked her straight in the eyes.
“You and Prokhor decided you had the right to control my life. My spending. My decisions. I won’t live like that.”
“So proud.”
“Yes. Proud. And I won’t allow myself to be humiliated.”
Veronika left the apartment and slammed the door behind her.
She went down the stairs and stepped outside. A cold wind struck her face, but she didn’t even shiver.
She took out her phone and called her friend Irina.
“Ira, hi. Can I stay at your place tonight? Yes, it’s urgent. I’ll explain when I get there.”
The next morning, Veronika woke up on Irina’s sofa. Her head was pounding, and her mouth felt dry. Her friend was already in the kitchen, making coffee.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Veronika, are you sure you want a divorce?”
“Absolutely.”
“Maybe you should think about it? Talk to him?”
“What is there to talk about? Prokhor stole my salary and gave it to his mother. That is not up for discussion.”
Irina poured coffee and handed her a cup.
“I understand. But divorce is serious.”
“I know. But I cannot live with a man who doesn’t respect me.”
Her friend nodded and said nothing.
Veronika drank her coffee and checked her phone.
Prokhor had sent ten messages. All of them said the same thing: come back, let’s talk, I’ll return the money.
Veronika locked her banking app and changed the password. Then she went into the settings and removed Prokhor’s card from her phone. He had been listed as a trusted person for emergency access.
No more access.
Only her control.
She called the bank and explained the situation. The operator told her the transfer could only be reversed with the recipient’s consent.
That meant Vasilisa Borisovna’s consent.
Veronika gave a bitter smile.
Of course her mother-in-law wouldn’t return it.
“Fine. Then I want to block all third-party access to my account.”
“Let me check… You had shared access enabled with Prokhor Andreevich.”
“Disable it.”
“To do that, we need his consent.”
“No, you don’t. I am the account holder. Disable it.”
“All right. The access will be blocked within twenty-four hours.”
Veronika ended the call and exhaled.
At least that was something.
Her phone started vibrating again. Prokhor was calling.
She declined the call.
An hour later, Vasilisa Borisovna called.
“Veronika, come home immediately.”
“No.”
“You are Prokhor’s wife. Your place is beside your husband.”
“My place is where I’m respected.”
“Prokhor respects you. He wanted to help.”
“Help steal my money?”
“Not steal. Save it.”
“Vasilisa Borisovna, return the money to my account.”
“No.”
“Then we have nothing to talk about.”
Veronika hung up.
Her mother-in-law called again, but Veronika declined the call. Then she blocked the number.
The next day, Veronika went to see a lawyer.
She explained everything. The lawyer listened and nodded.
“Formally, it may be difficult to prove theft, because the transfer was made from your phone by your husband. But you can file for divorce and demand compensation.”
“I want a divorce.”
“Is there any jointly acquired property?”
“The apartment. But it’s registered to Prokhor and was bought before the marriage.”
“Then you cannot claim it. But you may request division of anything purchased during the marriage.”
“We didn’t really buy much. Furniture, appliances. I don’t need any of it.”
“All right. Then we’ll simply file for divorce.”
Veronika signed all the papers.
The lawyer sent the documents to court.
Prokhor found out a week later. He called and shouted into the phone.
“You filed for divorce? Seriously?”
“Absolutely.”
“Over some money?”
“Over disrespect.”
“Veronika, I love you. Come back.”
“No.”
“I’ll return the money.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”
“Prokhor, this was never only about money. It’s about the fact that you believe you have the right to control my life. You and your mother. I will not live like that.”
“Mom was just trying to help.”
“Mom controls people. And you help her do it. I don’t need that.”
“Veronika…”
“Goodbye, Prokhor.”
She ended the call and stopped answering him.
The divorce was finalized two months later. Prokhor tried to drag out the process by missing court hearings, but eventually the court made its decision.
The marriage was dissolved.
Veronika rented a one-room apartment on the other side of the city. She found a new job at a large company, with a salary twenty thousand higher than before.
She bought herself a good blouse, an expensive face cream, and new shoes.
And no one asked her why she needed them.
The money Vasilisa Borisovna had taken never came back. Veronika didn’t try to fight for it in court. It would have taken too long, too much energy, too many nerves.
She simply crossed that sum out of her life.
One evening, six months after the divorce, Veronika was sitting at home with a cup of tea, scrolling through her phone.
She came across a post from Prokhor.
Her ex-husband had remarried.
A young woman, about twenty-three, smiled in the photo. Vasilisa Borisovna stood beside them, looking just as pleased.
Veronika smiled faintly.
She wondered how long the new wife would last.
A month? Two?
Until Vasilisa Borisovna started controlling her spending too?
Veronika closed the app and finished her tea.
Life went on.
Without Prokhor.
Without Vasilisa Borisovna.
Without humiliation and control.
Veronika earned her money, spent it on herself, and answered to no one.
Exactly as it should be.
Respect is worth more than any amount of money.
And it is certainly worth more than a marriage where you are treated like an unreasonable child.
