Lena sat at the kitchen table, twirling a pen between her fingers. In front of her lay a blank sheet of paper, and she couldn’t bring herself to write the first word of her résumé. For three months her job hunt had led nowhere—either her qualifications didn’t fit, or the pay was miserable, or the interview ended before it even began.

“Still sitting around doing nothing?” Andrey came into the kitchen, stretching after his daytime sleep. He worked the night shift and was used to catching up on sleep during the day.

“I’m writing a résumé,” Lena replied wearily without looking up.

“For what position this time?” There was a barely perceptible irony in her husband’s voice.

“Sales manager at a construction company.”

Andrey poured himself some tea from the pot Lena had brewed that morning. The tea was strong, nearly black.

“Do you know anything about construction?”

Lena raised her tired eyes to him.
“I know about sales. I worked at Eldorado for three years. Remember?”

“That was five years ago,” Andrey sat down opposite his wife. “Maybe it’s time to look for something real? Not everyone can be a manager.”

Lena gripped the pen tighter. They had this conversation almost every day. Andrey never said it outright, but she felt how much it weighed on him to support the family alone. Utilities, groceries, her transit pass for traveling to interviews—all of it fell on his shoulders.

“I’m trying,” she said quietly.

“I know. It’s just…” Andrey rubbed his forehead. “It’s just hard, you know?”

Lena nodded. Of course she understood. The apartment was hers—a two-room Khrushchev-era place she’d inherited from her parents. But keeping it up on one system administrator’s salary wasn’t easy, even though Andrey worked for a good company.

A week later the call came out of the blue. Lena was washing dishes when the phone rang.

“Is this Yelena Viktorovna? This is StroyInvest. You applied for the sales manager position?”

Her heart skipped.

“Yes, I did.”

“Could you come in for an interview tomorrow? Say, at two in the afternoon?”

“Of course!” Lena could barely contain her excitement. “May I have the address?”

She wrote it down, hung up, and leaned against the fridge. Maybe this time she’d get lucky?

The interview passed as if in a fog. First with the HR manager, then with the head of sales, then with the deputy director. Lena answered questions, talked about her experience, tried to show her best self. In the end the director of sales—a stocky man of about fifty—looked at her intently.

“Yelena Viktorovna, you’re a good fit for us. Can you start on Monday?”

“I can!” Lena barely kept herself from jumping with joy.

“The salary is seventy thousand a month plus sales commission. On average it comes to around a hundred thousand. Does that suit you?”

Lena caught her breath. It was more than Andrey made.

She practically flew home. Andrey was still asleep—he had two hours before his shift. Lena perched carefully on the edge of the bed.

“Andryusha, wake up. I’ve got news.”

He opened his eyes, immediately on alert.
“What happened?”

“I got the job!” Lena couldn’t hold back a smile. “Seventy thousand plus commission!”

Andrey sat up, fully awake.
“Seriously? Congratulations!” He hugged his wife. “At last! Now we’ll live like normal people.”

The first months went by in a flash. Lena threw herself into her new duties, studied the company’s products, and built relationships with clients. It turned out she really did have a knack for sales—by the second month she received a bonus as best employee, and by the end of the third her pay really had climbed to nearly a hundred thousand.

Things at home improved, too. Lena started buying the groceries and took over part of the utility bills. Andrey noticeably brightened—the tension that had been building for months disappeared.

But six months later, that conversation happened.

Lena came home from work exhausted—the day had been rough, the clients were finicky, and management demanded the impossible. She kicked off her heels and went into the living room, where Andrey was watching the news.

“Hi,” she said, sinking into an armchair.

“Hi. How’s work?”

“Fine. Just tired.”

Andrey turned off the TV and faced his wife.
“Lena, I need to talk to you.”

Something in his tone put her on guard.
“About what?”

“Money. Our budget.”

Lena frowned.
“What about it?”

Andrey paused, choosing his words.
“You see, I did the math… During the time you weren’t working, I spent about four hundred thousand on the two of us. Maybe a little more. Groceries, utilities, your expenses…”

“And?”

“Well, now that you’re making more than me, it would be fair if you contributed more to the household budget. So we’re even.”

Lena slowly sat up straighter in the chair.
“What do you mean, ‘even’?”

“You know,” Andrey avoided her gaze. “I carried the family alone for a long time. Now it’s your turn. I think it would be fair if you put about seventy percent of your salary toward our shared expenses, and I’ll put in fifty percent of mine. That way we’ll gradually make up what I spent.”

Lena stared at her husband in disbelief.
“Andrey, we’re a family. We’re supposed to help each other. I wasn’t working not because I was lazy, but because I couldn’t find a suitable job.”

“I understand. But fair is fair.”

“Fair?” Lena’s voice turned cold. “Is it fair that I cook, clean, and do the laundry? Did you count that in the expenses?”

“Lena, don’t be like that. I just want everything to be fair between us.”

She got up and walked to the window. The silence stretched.

“All right,” she said at last. “I’ll think about it.”

For the next few days Lena was quiet and pensive. Andrey tried several times to bring up the topic, but she answered curtly: “I’m still thinking.” He understood she was hurt, but he considered his position fair. After all, he really had supported them both for a long time.

On Saturday morning Lena came back from some errand with a folder in her hands. Andrey was having breakfast in the kitchen.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“On business,” Lena sat down across from him and put the folder on the table. “I’ve got some documents for you.”

“What documents?”

Lena opened the folder and took out a few sheets.
“A lease agreement.”

Andrey nearly choked on his coffee.
“A what?”

“A lease agreement for one room in my apartment,” Lena explained calmly. “Since we’re counting everything fairly now, let’s make it really fair.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Not at all.” Lena flipped through the contract. “Look, I’ve calculated everything. The market rent for a one-bedroom in our neighborhood is thirty thousand a month. But since you’re my husband, I’m giving you a discount. Twenty-five thousand. Not bad, wouldn’t you say?”

Andrey stared at his wife, not sure whether she was joking or dead serious.

“Lena, this is our apartment…”

“My apartment,” she corrected him. “Inherited by me. And if we’re splitting expenses equally, and you also think I owe you for the time I wasn’t working, then it’s only logical that you pay for housing.”

“But we’re husband and wife!”

“Husband and wife is when it’s ‘for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer.’ What we’ve got here is everyone keeping their own tally.”

Andrey set down his cup and studied the contract carefully.
“So you seriously want me to sign this?”

“If I owe you for groceries, then you can pay for living in my apartment,” his enterprising wife replied. “That way I’ll feel calmer. Everything honest and transparent.”

Andrey was silent, flipping through the pages. All the clauses were properly drafted, legally airtight.

“Is this revenge?” he asked at last.

“No, it’s fairness. By your logic.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. Then Lena stood up and began clearing the table.

“By the way,” she said casually, “I have another offer.”

“What kind?” Andrey asked warily.

“Cleaning services and meal preparation. I did the math—weekly cleaning costs three thousand, and a home cook is at least a thousand rubles a day. That comes to forty-three thousand a month. But for you, as family, I’ll give a discount—thirty thousand.”

Andrey opened his mouth but couldn’t find any words.

“Lena…”

“What, ‘Lena’? I’m not a professional homemaker. I have a primary job that pays me. And housework is additional labor. If we’re counting everything, then let’s count it honestly.”

She set the cups in the sink and turned to her husband.
“So that’s fifty-five thousand a month from you. Plus your share of groceries and utilities. Fair, don’t you think?”

Andrey sat staring at the lease agreement. The numbers blurred before his eyes. Fifty-five thousand—that was almost his entire salary.

“You’re punishing me,” he said quietly.

“No,” Lena sat down beside him. “I’m just showing you where your logic leads. You want to treat our relationship like a business partnership? Fine. Then let’s count everything.”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“What did you mean? That I should compensate you for the expenses from when I wasn’t working, while continuing to cook and clean for free, getting nothing for it?”

Andrey said nothing. Put the way Lena had framed it, his proposal really did look unfair.

“I didn’t think it through,” he admitted.

“Didn’t think—or decided you could exploit me a little?”

The word “exploit” stung.

“I didn’t want to exploit you,” Andrey took his wife’s hand. “It was just… it was hard to carry everything alone. And when you started earning well, it seemed to me you should make up what I’d spent.”

“Andrey, what if tomorrow I lost my job again? Or got sick? Would you start tallying up how much you spend on me then too?”

He paused. What would he do in that situation?

“Probably not,” he answered honestly.

“Then what’s the difference?”

Andrey put the contract aside and rubbed his face with his hands.
“Lena, I’m sorry. I acted like an idiot.”

“You did,” she agreed, but her voice softened.

“Can we put everything back the way it was? Shared budget, shared expenses?”

“We can. On one condition.”

“What condition?”

“We never again count who owes what to whom in this family. We’re one team. It doesn’t matter who earns how much.”

Andrey nodded.
“Deal.”

Lena slipped the lease back into the folder.
“And one more thing. When we have kids and I go on maternity leave, you’re not going to add up how much you spend on me.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Scout’s honor.”

They hugged. A light spring rain was falling outside, and the apartment suddenly felt quieter and calmer.

“I’m still going to keep the contract,” Lena said, leaning into her husband.

“Why?”

“Just in case. In case you decide again that fairness matters more than family.”

Andrey laughed.
“I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson.”

And Lena thought that sometimes the most important lessons in family life have to be taught in unusual ways. And it’s a good thing when there’s someone to teach them—and someone to learn them.