“And What Money Are You Going to Leave With?” My Husband Shouted. “Our Money,” I Replied
“Could you move a little faster, Nadia?”
Oleg grimaced irritably.
“The relatives will be here in twenty minutes.”
He tugged at the collar of his new, freshly ironed shirt and cast a dissatisfied glance around the kitchen.
“And all you’ve done is slice some sausage.”
Nadia silently transferred the hot mashed potatoes into a deep porcelain serving dish.
“Everything is almost ready.”
She wiped her palms with a paper towel and set it aside.
“Oh, really?”
Her husband stepped closer to the table and peered into the empty salad bowls.
“I asked for tartlets with smoked salmon. Where are they?”
He planted his hands on his hips.
“It’s embarrassing in front of everyone. I’m turning fifty, after all. It’s a milestone birthday! You could have made more of an effort for your husband.”
“I did make an effort.”
Nadia spoke evenly without looking at him.
“I didn’t buy the salmon. There wasn’t enough money for all your delicacies. I don’t get paid until Monday.”
“Why are you starting this today of all days?”
Oleg flared up angrily.
“You never have any money! I work myself to death and bring everything into this house, yet you can’t even set a decent table!”
He pointed contemptuously toward the platter of sliced vegetables.
“Where’s the meat?”
“In the oven.”
She straightened the kitchen towel hanging from its hook.
A month earlier, she had been searching for wet wipes in the glove compartment of his car. She had not found any wipes.
Instead, she had discovered a neatly folded stack of receipts.
There were receipts from an expensive jewelry boutique and printed booking confirmations from an exclusive countryside resort. The dates matched his “urgent business trips” to construction sites and the evenings when he had supposedly been “stuck in meetings.”
It had not taken Nadia long to accept the truth.
She had not confronted him or caused a scene. She had simply begun preparing methodically for his birthday celebration.
The intercom rang insistently in the hallway.
“Go open the door,” her husband barked.
He adjusted his cuffs and arranged a pleasant smile on his face.
“And try to look happier. This is my birthday, not a funeral.”
His sister, Victoria, stood at the door. In one hand, she carried a suspiciously light plastic container. In the other was a cheap cake in a transparent box.
“Oh, are we the first ones here?”
Vika chirped, tossing her coat directly onto the hallway cabinet.
“Oleg, my dear brother, happy birthday!”
She planted a loud kiss on his cheek and looked around.
“And where is our wonderful hostess?”
Nadia came out of the kitchen. She was wearing neither an apron nor her old house cardigan. Dressed in tailored dark trousers and a light blouse, she approached the guest.
“Come in, Vika. The table is set in the living room.”
Her sister-in-law looked Nadia up and down critically, lingering on her hairstyle.
“Well, don’t you look dressed up today? I hardly recognize you.”
She thrust the container into Nadia’s hands.
“I brought a little crab salad. I know you never have time to do anything properly because of that job of yours at the clinic.”
Vika hurried into the living room, praising her brother as she went.
“Oleg! Look at you! So distinguished! Fifty is a major milestone. Not everyone is lucky enough to look this good at your age.”
The others arrived about twenty minutes later. Oleg’s old friend Misha came with his wife, Tanya. Their neighbors from the second floor also stopped by.
The apartment filled with the hum of voices, the clinking of dishes, and the scent of heavy perfume.
Everyone took their seats. Oleg sat at the head of the table, as was appropriate for the guest of honor. He graciously accepted congratulations, nodded importantly, and kept refilling everyone’s glasses.
“Well, your table is certainly a little modest,” Vika drawled sarcastically.
She poked at the homemade salad with her fork.
“Our Nadia has completely given up on housekeeping. You could at least have bought some caviar. It is a fiftieth birthday, after all.”
“Oh, leave her alone, Vika,” Misha said conciliatorily.
He raised his shot glass and looked around the table.
“It isn’t the food that matters. It’s the company!”
Misha cleared his throat.
“Oleg is a successful, impressive man. He renovated this apartment, bought himself a new car, and look at the beautiful wife sitting beside him, putting up with that difficult personality of his!”
The guests laughed together.
Oleg straightened proudly and waved a dismissive hand.
“The apartment is nothing. Just one of life’s little things.”
He raised one finger meaningfully.
“The important thing is knowing how to invest properly! I always say that money should be working for you.”
Vika nodded enthusiastically as she chewed a piece of ham.
“If you don’t invest in the future, you’re standing still,” Oleg continued lecturing everyone. “And I’m accustomed to moving forward. I don’t waste money on nonsense. I invest wisely.”
Nadia sat at the opposite end of the table.
She silently watched her husband perform in front of his friends. She watched Vika eagerly agree with every word he said. She watched Tanya examine their new chandelier with mild envy.
“Those are golden words, Oleg,” his sister added.
She reached for another helping of meat.
“You’re a very intelligent man. Nadia is unbelievably lucky to have you. She lives behind you as though behind a stone wall, without a worry in the world. Her husband brings everything into the home.”
Nadia picked up a paper napkin.
“That’s true.”
She rose from the table.
“Oleg is an extraordinary investor. Very farsighted.”
Her husband smirked smugly, accepting the praise as his due.
“That’s enough flattery.”
He slapped his palm against the table.
“Come on, wife. Bring out my present now that we’re discussing my achievements. So far, it’s all been talk.”
“I was just about to get it.”
Nadia went into the hallway.
A heavy, glossy photo album lay on the highest shelf of the closet. She had commissioned it two weeks earlier. It had cost a considerable amount of money, but it had been worth every penny.
She returned to the living room and placed the weighty hardcover book directly in front of her husband.
“Here. A special order.”
She took a step back.
“A chronicle of your achievements.”
The guests murmured approvingly.
“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Misha said excitedly.
He stretched his neck, trying to look over his friend’s shoulder.
“Go on, open it! Let’s see some pictures from the old days. I bet there are photos from our drunken college parties in there.”
Oleg adjusted his tie with an important air and opened the first page.
It contained a photograph of the two of them at their country house five years earlier. Oleg stood beside the barbecue grill, smiling and satisfied.
“That’s a beautiful picture,” Tanya said.
Oleg turned the page.
There were no photographs on the second spread.
Instead, printed documents had been carefully glued onto the pages.
The text was large and clearly visible, complete with stamps and dates.
Misha narrowed his eyes.
“What’s this? Some kind of contracts?”
Oleg stared at the documents. The cheerful flush on his face began to fade rapidly, replaced by a sickly, ashen color.
They were receipts.
Copies of receipts from a jewelry boutique for a sapphire set. The exact set Nadia had asked for on their anniversary three years earlier, only to be told that they never had any “spare money.”
He frantically turned the thick page.
The next spread displayed invoices for luxury suites at a countryside spa hotel.
They were in Oleg’s name.
And there were the dates.
The same weekends in September when he had supposedly been “saving a project outside the city.” Then again in October. And once more just before the New Year holidays.
“This…”
The words became stuck in his throat.
Nadia stood behind her chair with her arms crossed.
“These are your investments, Oleg.”
She looked around at the suddenly silent guests.
“Investments in gold earrings for a certain Kristina.”
Vika choked on air.
“Investments in luxury suites with Jacuzzis,” Nadia continued calmly. “Investments in the delivery of enormous bouquets of roses to an address that has absolutely nothing to do with our apartment.”
Everyone at the table stopped chewing.
“I decided that your friends and relatives ought to know what a generous investor you are. Vika was so concerned that there wasn’t any caviar on the table. Well, Vika, the caviar money went to the spa hotel.”
Tanya abruptly lowered her eyes and stared at her empty plate.
She had suspected something like this for a long time. Once, she had seen Oleg at a shopping center with a young brunette, but she had chosen to remain silent.
Misha cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Oleg, what is this? Some kind of joke? Who’s Kristina?”
The birthday man finally found his voice. Angry red blotches spread across his face.
“Have you completely lost your mind?!”
He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over a crystal salad bowl.
“You searched through my glove compartment?! You’ve been snooping around behind my back?!”
He threw the album onto the table.
“What kind of circus are you putting on in front of everyone?!”
“I organized a celebration,” Nadia replied calmly.
She did not even raise her voice.
“You told me to make an effort, so I did.”
She nodded toward the closed album.
“I gathered all your financial records in one place so they wouldn’t get lost. You might have forgotten where you made your investments.”
“Why, you…”
Oleg lunged toward her, but Misha placed a heavy hand on his forearm and forced him back into his chair.
“Cool down, investor.”
Nadia stepped away from the table and headed toward the hallway.
“The main course is in the oven, Vika.”
She did not turn around.
“Make sure your dear brother eats something. It appears he has lost his appetite from an excess of emotion.”
Oleg tore his arm free from his friend’s grip and rushed after her.
“Where do you think you’re going?!”
He blocked her path in the hallway.
“You humiliated me in front of everyone, and you think I’m going to let you get away with it?! What money are you going to leave with, since you’re so clever?! This apartment is mine! I paid for it!”
Her packed travel bag was already standing in the hallway.
Nadia had prepared it that morning while her husband was sleeping before the celebration.
She lifted the bag onto her shoulder.
“Prove that to whoever you like, Oleg.”
She looked at him without anger. Her expression contained something closer to disgusted astonishment, the way someone might look at a person who had somehow managed to dirty himself on perfectly clean ground and was now loudly blaming the puddle.
“As for your investments in Kristina…”
She gave a brief, humorless laugh.
“Consider them my fiftieth-birthday present to you.”
Nadia moved him aside.
“Happy birthday.”
She stepped across the threshold and gently closed the door behind her, cutting off the muffled hum of confused voices coming from the living room.
The stairwell was cool and smelled of fresh paint.
Two weeks later, Nadia sat on the veranda of a small rented cottage forty kilometers outside the city.
Pine trees rustled around her, and a cup of morning coffee was growing cold on the table.
Her phone had been switched off for several days. She knew there were probably dozens of missed calls waiting for her: Vika with her lamentations and Oleg with his empty threats.
There were many unpleasant conversations and practical problems ahead. They would have to divide their possessions. Nadia would need to find permanent housing and establish a new routine.
But all of that now seemed minor and insignificant.
The important thing was that she no longer had to listen to speeches about brilliant investments, prepare salads for her dissatisfied sister-in-law, or invent excuses for someone else’s betrayal.
She was simply living her own life, free from worry.