Daria stepped away from the salon counter to the window, holding her phone in one hand and a case with her finished wedding dress in the other.
A debit alert flashed on the screen: 186,000 rubles.
She frowned.
The wedding was just three weeks away. For the past two months, money had been leaving her account almost every day—for the restaurant, photographer, host, décor, delivery, rings, makeup artist. Daria had gotten used to these big amounts and first thought that maybe the restaurant had taken another payment installment ahead of schedule.
But the payment description was something else entirely.
A travel service.
Daria opened her banking app, found the transaction, and requested details.
Plane tickets.
Hotel.
Turkey.
She stared at the screen for a few seconds, trying to figure out what didn’t add up.
The trip with Artyom was already paid for.
A month ago, they had bought a ten-day tour together. The flight was set for two days after the wedding. They had chosen the hotel together, as well as the room. Artyom had even joked back then that after all the wedding planning, they’d need a break somewhere with total silence—no phones, no relatives.
Daria opened the email from the travel service.
The payment was recent.
The booking had been made today.
She called the bank.
The phone operator confirmed: the transaction had been made using her card’s details and authenticated in a way that didn’t seem suspicious to their system.
Daria remembered last Wednesday.
She’d been at work when the delivery service called: there was a sudden extra charge for some of the wedding décor. Daria was in a meeting at the time, so she sent Artyom her card details, asking him to sort it out.
She didn’t even think about it again that night.
Now she realized he still had her card info.
She picked up her dress.
She rode home in silence, though the taxi driver tried twice to talk about the weather and the roadworks.
Artyom was at home.
Daria arrived at the apartment around eight. His sneakers were in the hallway and she could hear the keyboard from the next room.
She took off her coat, hung the dress case in the closet, and went to see him.
“Did you buy anything with my card today?”
Artyom turned from his computer.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. One hundred and eighty-six thousand.”
He didn’t look scared.
He didn’t reach for his phone.
He didn’t even bother to ask if she was mistaken.
“Oh, that was for Veronika’s trip.”
Daria stood by the door.
“What trip for Veronika?”
“My sister’s.”
“I know which Veronika. Where to?”
“With us.”
Now Daria thought she must have misheard.
“With us where?”
“To Turkey.”
Artyom kept his hand on the mouse and spoke calmly.
“She’s been wanting a vacation for a long time. After everything she’s been through recently, she really needs a change of scenery.”
Daria slowly walked closer.
“How is your sister needing a vacation connected to my bank card?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“No. Now.”
Artyom sighed heavily, as if she was distracting him from something much more important.
“She doesn’t have any spare cash right now. I paid for the flights and hotel. She’ll pay me back.”
“When?”
“Probably after New Year’s.”
Daria looked at the calendar by the desk.
There were still more than three months left until New Year.
“Why is she even flying with us?”
“Because the flight is convenient.”
“Artyom.”
“What?”
“We’re going on our honeymoon.”
“So what? The hotel is huge. She’s not going to stay in our room.”
Daria even let out a smirk.
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For the clarification.”
He finally closed his laptop.
“Dasha, come on, what’s the big deal? Veronika won’t be sitting on our bed for ten days. She has her own room. If she wants the beach, she’ll go. If she wants a tour, she’ll go.”
“On the same flight?”
“Yes.”
“Same hotel?”
“Yes.”
“For the same ten days?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And you paid for all this with my card today?”
“I told you I did.”
A flush of color crept into Daria’s face.
She placed her bag on the edge of the table and was silent for a few seconds.
It wasn’t even the amount that irritated her.
One hundred eighty-six thousand was serious money, but far from her last. After the wedding, she still had the savings she’d been building up for years.
It was something else that bothered her.
Artyom spoke as if he’d just bought his sister a movie ticket and genuinely didn’t see what the fuss was about.
“Did you pick my card by accident?”
“No.”
“So you did it on purpose.”
“Oh come on, what difference does it make?”
“It makes a big difference.”
Artyom leaned back in his chair.
“So what if I paid for my sister with your card? We’re about to be family.”
Daria looked at him, and for the first time during the entire conversation, she didn’t feel like arguing—she felt a sudden sense of wariness.
“Repeat that.”
“What?”
“You really think it’s okay to spend one hundred eighty-six thousand from my card without asking?”
“I didn’t steal it.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I paid for Veronika’s trip. She’ll pay it back.”
“To me?”
“Of course to you.”
“Sometime after New Year.”
“Dasha, you have enough money right now.”
That last comment stung even more than the ones before it.
Daria straightened up.
“And how do you know how much money I have right now?”
“We’ve lived together for two and a half years. I have a pretty good idea.”
“No. You only know what I spent on the wedding. The rest is none of your business.”
Artyom grimaced.
“Can we not turn our relationship into an accounting ledger right now?”
“I’m not. We had an agreement.”
She remembered exactly where that agreement came from.
For the first ten months, they were just dating.
Artyom rented an apartment, while Daria lived in the small two-bedroom she’d bought before ever meeting him. They’d spend nights at hers or his place, made trips to the countryside together, and had gone on a few short vacations.
Then Artyom suggested they move in together.
Daria didn’t object.
He moved in, and almost immediately they talked about money.
They opened a separate account for household expenses. Each month, both transferred an agreed-upon amount. Groceries, utilities, house purchases, and shared entertainment were all paid from there.
Everything else remained personal.
It was actually Artyom who said this was the most grown-up approach.
He didn’t want to be accountable for every purchase, and neither did Daria.
In a year and a half of living together, this system never once caused a serious argument.
It became especially convenient for Artyom a few months ago when he decided to buy a motorcycle.
Daria didn’t share his enthusiasm, but she wasn’t going to forbid it either.
He spent several evenings studying ads, going to look at bikes, and eventually found the perfect option.
When asked if he was spending too much, Artyom replied:
“This is my money. I cover our shared expenses, and the wedding is on schedule. I really like this motorcycle, so I’m buying it.”
Darya agreed.
In fact, that was when Artyom took his time to explain how important it is to keep financial independence, even in marriage.
“An adult needs to have money that no one else controls,” he told her. “Otherwise you end up asking for permission all the time—can I buy this, can’t I buy that.”
Darya completely agreed with this point of view.
That’s why she was particularly interested in hearing his explanation now.
“So, why didn’t you pay for Veronika’s trip from your own card?”
Artyom averted his gaze.
“Almost all of my spare money is in my savings account right now.”
“And?”
“If I withdraw it before the term ends, I’ll lose the interest.”
Darya was silent for a few seconds.
“So you decided to use my money instead?”
“You won’t lose anything. Veronika will pay you back.”
“Then close your deposit and wait for her to pay you back.”
“Why would I close my perfectly good deposit?”
“Why should I be loaning money to your sister?”
Artyom stood up.
“Don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not twisting anything. You took my money because you didn’t want to touch your own.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
He didn’t answer.
“Before the trip?”
“Of course.”
“Today?”
“Maybe.”
“After the wedding?”
Artyom ran his hand irritably through his hair.
“I didn’t exactly make a schedule for when to talk about this.”
Darya picked up her phone.
“Alright.”
“Alright, what?”
“Return the money by tomorrow evening.”
He looked at her.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“I told you already, Veronika will pay you back.”
“Then you can wait for her until New Year’s.”
“And my deposit?”
“Your deposit—your problem.”
Artyom laughed shortly, not quite believing it.
“You’re making all this fuss over interest?”
“No. You decided to keep your interest at the expense of my money. I’m just suggesting we fix that.”
Darya left the room.
She had no intention of arguing further.
In the kitchen, she immediately blocked her card using the app.
Then she opened her saved passwords and payment details on the home laptop, tablet, and computer browser. She deleted her card details everywhere they might have remained.
The next day, she ordered a new card.
Artyom watched all this with the look of someone who thinks it’s an overreaction.
They barely spoke to each other until the evening.
The money arrived at seven o’clock.
Darya saw an incoming transfer for the full amount.
Almost immediately, Artyom messaged her from the next room:
“Transferred.”
She replied:
“I see it.”
That settled the money issue for her.
For Artyom, it wasn’t over.
About an hour later, he called his mother.
Darya didn’t listen in. She was sitting in the kitchen with her laptop, replying to work emails.
But from some of the phrases, it was pretty clear what they were talking about.
“No, I gave it back…”
“Yeah, I had to withdraw it…”
“I don’t know…”
“Mom, don’t start…”
Twenty minutes later, Darya’s phone rang.
It was her future mother-in-law.
Lyudmila Borisovna.
Darya saw the name and already had a good idea what the call would be about.
“Yes?”
“Hello, Dashenka. I’ll only take a minute.”
Lyudmila Borisovna never actually called just for a minute.
“I’m listening.”
— Artyom told me about the trouble with Veronika’s trip.
— What kind of trouble exactly?
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
— Well, he didn’t quite pay for her ticket the right way.
Darya looked out the window.
— Not quite the right way?
— He rushed. I agree, he should’ve told you first.
— He should’ve asked first.
— Alright, asked first. But Veronika would’ve definitely paid you back.
— I just don’t want to lend her 186,000 rubles.
— That’s understandable. But now Artyom lost his deposit interest.
That’s it.
Darya closed her eyes.
It wasn’t Veronika who asked her for money.
There wasn’t any emergency.
Artyom just chose what was best for him: he left his own deposit untouched and used someone else’s card.
And his mom saw the situation exactly the same way.
— Lyudmila Borisovna, why did Artyom even tell you about my savings?
— He never mentioned anything like that.
— You just said Veronika would have paid me back so I shouldn’t have asked for the money right now.
— So what? You’re getting married in three weeks. The money will still be in the family.
Darya went quiet.
Now the conversation was actually getting useful.
— I see.
— Just don’t be mad at him. Men make decisions quickly sometimes. He just wanted to do something nice for his sister.
— Does Veronika know whose card paid for the trip?
— What difference does it make now?
— A big one.
— Dasha, why make this more complicated?
— Thank you, Lyudmila Borisovna. I have to go.
She ended the call.
And for several minutes she just sat still.
A list of wedding tasks was stuck to the fridge with a magnet.
Pick up the rings.
Confirm the seating chart.
Give the final guest list to the host.
Send the photographer the address for the morning preparations.
Call the restaurant.
Three weeks.
Just this morning, that list seemed like a set of normal worries.
Now Darya looked at it very differently.
While getting ready for the wedding, Artyom had joked a few times that after the ceremony, there would finally be ‘no more of this dividing between yours and mine.’
Darya always took those words as a joke.
They already had a shared household budget.
Darya’s apartment had belonged to her before the relationship.
The motorcycle belonged to Artyom.
Each kept their savings separate.
She didn’t see any reason to change that suddenly.
But it looked like Artyom did.
Except, it seemed to go only one way.
His deposit stayed his deposit.
His motorcycle was still his motorcycle.
And after the wedding, her savings had somehow turned into a convenient reserve for his relatives.
Darya took the list off the fridge.
The next day, she started making calls.
First was the restaurant.
— Hello. I have a banquet in three weeks. Could you please tell me the cancellation policy?
The administrator asked for the contract number.
Darya gave it.
Part of the advance wouldn’t be refunded. The rest could be returned if she canceled the event now.
She wrote down the amount.
Next, she called the photographer.
The contract said the photographer kept the deposit.
The host was ready to refund almost everything except for costs already incurred.
It was more complicated with the decorator: some of the materials had been bought especially for their event.
Darya didn’t cancel anything right away.
First, she calculated everything.
Then she opened the contract with the restaurant and read the terms all over again.
The losses were unpleasant.
But not catastrophic.
At lunchtime, she called the registry office to check on the process for canceling the wedding registration.
After work, she officially canceled the banquet and notified all the vendors.
Darya got home before Artyom did.
She took the wedding documents from her folder and placed the restaurant contract on the kitchen table.
She set the calculations next to it.
The amount she was losing by calling everything off.
Artyom walked in at about 7:30.
He saw the papers immediately.
“What happened?”
“Sit down.”
He took off his jacket.
“Is this about the restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“Did they change something again?”
Darya shook her head.
“I canceled the wedding.”
Artyom froze.
“What?”
“The banquet is canceled. The photographer knows. The MC too. I called the registry office.”
He looked at her like he couldn’t understand her ordinary words.
“Are you joking?”
“No.”
“Because of yesterday?”
Darya put her hand on the contract.
“Not because of the withdrawal itself.”
“Then why?”
“Because you think it’s okay to use my money without my permission.”
Artyom paced the kitchen.
“I gave the money back.”
“Yes.”
“I fixed everything.”
“You gave the money back. Not everything else.”
“What else?”
Darya looked at him.
“You took my card details, kept them, and paid for your grown sister’s vacation. Not because of some emergency. Not because help was urgently needed. But because you didn’t want to touch your account.”
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
“Then what do you call it?”
“A decision.”
Artyom irritably pushed the chair back and sat down.
“Fine. I made the wrong decision. One time.”
“In that one time, you managed to buy tickets, book a room, and pick the same flight, same hotel, and same dates for her.”
“Because it was more convenient!”
“For whom?”
He said nothing.
“Certainly not for me. I planned to spend my honeymoon with my husband, not his sister.”
“Veronika wouldn’t have gotten in the way.”
“You even decided that for me.”
Artyom hit the table with his palm—not hard, but sharply.
“You can’t just cancel a wedding three weeks before!”
“You can. I checked today.”
“The guests have already been invited!”
“We’ll let them know.”
“Our parents are getting everything ready!”
“So was I.”
“We’ve been together for two and a half years!”
“That’s exactly why I know yesterday wasn’t an accident.”
Artyom jumped up.
“You’re throwing away two and a half years because of one trip!”
Darya shook her head.
“An accident is when you clicked the wrong card in the app. Then someone immediately says, ‘I paid with yours by mistake. I’ll send it back.’”
He turned away.
“But you used my info on purpose. Then you explained why your savings mattered more than mine. Then you said your sister would pay back whenever it suited her. Then your mom told me that after the wedding, the money would be shared anyway.”
Artyom turned sharply.
“What does my mom have to do with this?”
“Because you’re already discussing my money with her.”
“I’m not discussing anything with her!”
“Then how does she know I’ll have savings after the wedding?”
He fell silent.
That said it all.
Darya took the documents from the table.
“I’m not going to keep checking after the wedding to see which other relatives need a vacation, renovations, a new car, or some big purchase.”
“No one was planning to take your money!”
Darya looked at him.
Artyom fell silent.
The remark sounded especially ridiculous considering he had already taken the money.
“I’ll come by tomorrow to pick up my things,” he said.
“Alright.”
“Just like that?”
“No. It’s not easy at all.”
He went off to the other room.
That night, they slept separately.
In the morning, Darya woke up before her alarm.
On the kitchen table was her phone. Overnight, several messages had come from Artyom.
The first one was long.
The second was even longer.
Darya only read the beginning.
He wrote that he’d acted rashly, understood her reaction, was willing to set new boundaries, and promised never to use her cards again.
She didn’t reply.
They already had rules in place.
They didn’t need new ones.
Artyom really did start packing after lunch.
The apartment belonged to Darya, so there was never a question of who should move out.
He folded his clothes into a suitcase, packing electronics, chargers, and documents separately.
His motorcycle was parked in a rented garage nearby.
Darya kept busy with her own tasks, not following him from room to room.
As evening approached, the intercom rang.
At the door stood Veronika.
She wasn’t dressed for traveling, didn’t have a suitcase—just her regular jacket and jeans.
“Can I come in?”
Darya let her in.
Artyom came out of his room.
“Why did you come here?”
“To talk to you.”
“Now’s not a great time.”
“It’s not a great time for me, either.”
Veronika glanced at Darya.
“My mom told me today there won’t be a wedding.”
Darya nodded.
“There won’t be.”
Veronika clearly wanted to say more, but she turned to her brother first.
“You told me you’d pay for the trip yourself.”
“Does it matter now?”
“It does. Did you pay for it with Dasha’s card?”
Artyom’s expression darkened.
“I already gave the money back.”
Veronika stared at him for a few seconds.
“So, yes.”
“Veronika, don’t you start, too.”
“I’m not starting anything. I just don’t get why you lied.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“You said, ‘I’ll pay for everything—consider it a gift.’”
Artyom rubbed his face with his hand.
“I planned to sort it out later.”
“With who?”
He said nothing.
Veronika turned to Darya.
“I didn’t know.”
“I figured.”
“I thought he was using his own money.”
Darya nodded.
“Okay.”
“And about the trip—I knew it was supposed to be your honeymoon, but Artyom said you didn’t mind because we’d barely see each other.”
Darya looked at her ex-fiancé.
He angrily opened the wardrobe.
“Are we really going to discuss this now?”
“No,” Darya said. “There’s no point anymore.”
Veronika stayed in the hallway.
“I’ll cancel the trip.”
Artyom turned to her.
“Why would you?”
“Because I’m not going.”
“The tickets might be non-refundable.”
“Then we’ll just lose the money.”
“What do you mean ‘we’? I paid for them!”
Veronika stared at her brother.
Darya raised her eyebrows ever so slightly.
Artyom realized what he’d said and fell silent.
“You said five minutes ago you’d paid Dasha back,” Veronika pointed out. “So now, yes, you really did pay.”
She took out her phone.
“I’ll check myself what can be refunded.”
And she stepped out onto the stairwell.
Darya stayed out of it.
Artem zipped up his suitcase.
“Happy now?”
“About what?”
“Now even my sister thinks I’m someone she doesn’t know anymore.”
“She just heard the facts.”
“You didn’t have to tell her.”
“I barely told her anything.”
He grabbed his suitcase by the handle.
“You know, in a month you’ll realize what a mistake you made.”
Darya opened the door.
“Maybe.”
That was clearly not the answer he had been expecting.
He’d been waiting for an argument.
For her to try to stop him.
Or at least show some doubt.
But he got nothing.
Veronika was standing by the elevator with her phone.
“You can still cancel the hotel booking,” she said. “But the airline will deduct a portion from the ticket refund.”
“Do whatever you want,” Artem snapped.
He pressed the elevator button.
Veronika watched her brother leave, then looked at Darya.
“I’m really sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I do. I should have at least asked you about the trip.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
The elevator arrived.
Artem stepped inside with his suitcase.
Veronika stayed behind.
“You’re not going with him?”
“No. I’ll go to Mom’s later.”
The elevator doors closed.
Darya went back into the apartment.
The dress was still hanging in the closet.
She opened the closet and stared at the white garment bag for a few seconds.
Three weeks ago, the fitting had lasted almost two hours. They’d hemmed the length, fixed the fit, and the seamstress had asked her several times to walk around the room and turn.
Now, the dress was just an expensive item with no longer any reason to wear it.
Darya took the garment bag off the hanger and moved it to another room.
Two days later, the calls to the guests began.
She informed her relatives herself.
Her father only asked one thing at first:
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll get through the rest.”
Her mother came in the evening, listened to everything, and only asked once:
“Did he really pay for his sister’s trip with your card?”
“He did.”
“And he thought that was okay?”
“Yes.”
Her mother looked at the box of wedding invitations left on the dresser.
“Then it’s good this came out now.”
She didn’t add anything else.
Artem took care of calling his guests himself.
It seemed to be even harder on him than he’d expected.
A few days later, a mutual friend messaged Darya:
“He says the wedding was canceled because of a financial issue.”
Darya didn’t bother correcting the wording.
Let him say what he wants.
Lyudmila Borisovna called again.
Darya answered because she didn’t want there to be any unresolved questions.
“Dasha, maybe you two could at least meet and talk calmly? Artem is really upset.”
“We’ve already discussed everything.”
“But so much has already been prepared.”
“I know.”
“And the guests…”
“They’ve all been notified.”
Lyudmila Borisovna was silent for a moment.
“I still believe that money shouldn’t destroy relationships.”
Darya glanced at the new card lying next to her wallet.
“I agree.”
That was where the conversation ended.
Veronika really did cancel the trip.
Artem got the hotel refund quickly. He spent a few more days sorting out the airline tickets on his own.
Darya didn’t get involved anymore.
A week later, she went to the restaurant to sign the banquet cancellation papers.
The manager recalculated the refund and handed her the documents.
“Such a shame. You had such a beautiful date picked out.”
Darya signed the papers.
“It’s alright.”
“Would you like to keep a copy of the contract?”
“Yes, please.”
She gathered up the documents and stepped outside.
September was warm. People were still sitting outside at the café next door, a delivery cyclist passed by, and at the crosswalk, a woman struggled to hold onto a child who was trying to run toward the pigeons.
Her phone started vibrating.
A confirmation from the registry office had arrived.
The wedding registration had been canceled.
Daria read the short notification, put her phone back in her bag, and headed to her car.
There were exactly two weeks and five days left until the planned wedding.