“How’s work going?” Pavel asked as he poured himself a second glass of compote.
I pushed the folder with reports further away from the table’s edge.
“It’s okay. The project is almost finished.”
“And what about that programmer who was always missing deadlines?”
“They fired him.”
Pavel nodded and began slicing tomatoes for a salad. His movements were always precise and unhurried, even after a twelve-hour shift at the factory when preparing dinner.
“By the way,” he said, turning to me with a knife in hand, “we’ll get a bonus in December. It won’t be large, but still. Maybe we can invest it in a new refrigerator?”
“Let’s first calculate exactly what we have,” I replied.
I stood and went to the window. Outside, children rode bicycles and mothers chatted on benches. An ordinary Thursday, nothing unusual. Yet inside, my emotions had been in turmoil for the past three days.
On Monday, Sergey Viktorovich summoned me to his office.
“Anya, congratulations. Starting January 1, you’re heading the systems analytics department.”
I sat down and stared at him.
“But what about Igor?”
“Igor is moving to another department. We deliberated long and hard on who should get this position. You can handle it.”
My salary increased ten times instantly—no transition period or probation. They simply multiplied my life’s worth by ten.
“Anya, are you listening?” Pavel touched my shoulder.
“Yes, I am. A new refrigerator sounds like a good idea.”
“Why do you seem so lost in thought?”
I turned to him. Flour covered his hands and smudged a stripe on his cheek from wiping with the apron. My husband—honest, kind, dependable—who counted every penny and treasured a bonus of five thousand rubles.
“Just a bit tired,” I said.
“Go rest. I’ll finish here.”
I kissed his cheek and headed to the bedroom. Turning on my laptop, I opened the banking app. The numbers on the screen seemed unreal—as if I were playing a video game in which I could buy anything.
I transferred half the amount to a savings account. Then contemplated and moved another quarter. The main account still held a balance slightly higher than Pavel’s salary.
“Dinner’s ready!” he called from the kitchen.
“Coming!”
I closed the laptop and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. The same Anya. The same eyes, the same nose. But now I could buy a new car every month or rent a seaside house for six months. Or clear my parents’ apartment debt.
“What shall we watch tonight?” Pavel asked, sitting down at the table.
“You choose.”
“Maybe something about traveling? I saw a film about Iceland.”
“Sounds good.”
He turned on the TV and spooned salad onto my plate carefully, knowing I preferred more tomatoes and less onion.
“You know,” he said between bites, “maybe in a couple of years, if we save enough, we can go somewhere together.”
“We definitely will.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Of course.”
I smiled at him, thinking I could purchase plane tickets to Iceland not just tomorrow but every day until the year’s end. Yet, I kept this secret.
Because I noticed how proud he was to provide for us, how happy he became saving an extra thousand rubles, and how he planned our future, budgeting together towards our dreams.
I chose to quietly accumulate. One day, I would gift him our home.
Three months passed. I adjusted to my new role, to meetings, and to the fact people depended on me for decisions. I also grew used to the increasing digits in our bank account each month.
Pavel brewed coffee, humming a tune with a cheerful morning mood.
“Anya, let’s talk seriously,” he said, sitting across from me.
“About what?”
“Our finances. I’ve been thinking… we’re family now. Why keep separate accounts? Let’s open a joint one.”
Something tightened inside me.
“Joint?”
“Yes. I’ll transfer my salary there, and you yours. Then we spend and plan together—saving for a house, vacations, like normal spouses.”
He smiled with such enthusiasm that my heart ached.
“Pasha, maybe it’s too soon?”
“Too soon?” He frowned. “We’ve been married six months. What secrets should there be between us?”
“No secrets, just…”
“Just what? Don’t you trust me?”
“I do, of course. Alright, let’s try.”
His face lit up as he reached out to me across the table.
“Great! We’ll open the account tomorrow. Also, I calculated our monthly savings. If we stick to it, in two years we can get a mortgage for a one-bedroom apartment.”
“One-bedroom?”
“It’s enough for a start. Later, we can expand.”
I nodded, finishing my coffee. That evening, I moved an amount equal to Pavel’s salary into the new joint account—a bit more than to seem plausible. The rest remained on my personal accounts, where I had saved enough for a three-room apartment in the city center.
Pavel was thrilled. Each night, he showed me Excel spreadsheets laying out our expected expenses, budgets for groceries, utilities, clothing, and charts illustrating our savings growth.
“Look, if we cut entertainment expenses a bit more, by New Year we’ll have almost a hundred thousand!” he beamed.
I watched his happy expression, feeling like a fraud.
“Hey, maybe I should find a side job,” he suggested one day. “Evenings or weekends. We can save faster.”
“Why? You already work hard enough.”
“I’m fine. I want our own place sooner. Living with parents isn’t forever.”
I wanted to shout that we already had money for a house, that he didn’t need to strain, count pennies, or skip cinema nights. Yet, I kept silent.
Fear gripped me of seeing disappointment or anger—or something worse in his eyes.
“Anya, what’s this?”
Pavel stood near the computer holding my phone. The banking app was open—the one I had forgotten to close while checking balances.
“Three hundred thousand rubles in one account, four hundred in another. And another account…” He scrolled silently. “How much do you earn, Anya?”
I sat on the sofa, clenching my fists.
“More than before.”
“How much more?” His voice grew louder. “I have the right to know!”
“Ten times more than you,” I exhaled.
He put the phone down and walked to the window, turning his back to me for a long moment.
“Ten times,” he repeated softly. “And how much do you transfer to the joint account? Thirty thousand? That’s just pennies.”
“I wanted to tell you…”
“When?” he turned around. “When were you going to say?”
“I don’t know. I was afraid.”
“What were you afraid of?”
“That you would be upset. That you might feel like a failure.”
He laughed bitterly.
“A failure, huh? So, I plan how to save every penny and you’ve got money for three apartments?”
“Pasha, please…”
“You know what hurts most?” He stepped closer. “Not that you earn more. That you think I’m too weak to be happy for my wife.”
“That’s not how I thought!”
“Exactly how you did. Otherwise, you would have told me.”
He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack.
“Pasha, don’t go. Let’s talk.”
“I need to think.”
The door closed, and I was left alone. I sat on the floor and cried for the first time in months.
That evening, Pavel returned. His face was tired but calm.
“Sorry for yelling,” he said, sitting beside me.
“I should apologize.”
“We’re both at fault. I for wanting to control everything. You for not trusting me.”
I took his hand.
“I was just afraid to ruin it all. We had been doing so well…”
“You know what I thought today?” He stroked my fingers. “That you were right. I would have been upset, felt small, and that’s my problem, not yours.”
“But I should have…”
“You should have trusted me. And I should not have made money the most important thing in our relationship.”
We sat silently in the dark.
“Pasha, what happens now?”
“Now, we will be honest with each other. Together, we will decide what to do with your money. With our money.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind if my wife is successful and smart?” he smiled. “Not at all.”
The next day, we opened a real joint account. I transferred nearly all my savings there. Pavel stared at the numbers on the screen for a long time.
“Do you realize we could buy a house tomorrow?”
“I do.”
“And a car.”
“And a car.”
“And fly to Iceland.”
“Even tomorrow.”
He hugged me.
“You know what’s the best part?”
“What?”
“That we can truly dream—together.”
Key Insight: Honest communication and transparency in finances strengthen relationships and enable shared dreams.
Reflecting on our journey, it became clear that trust and openness in managing money are crucial for harmony. While differences in income can challenge couples, mutual understanding and shared responsibility can transform those challenges into opportunities for growth. Our story highlights how embracing transparency and cooperation in financial matters fosters deeper connection and joint aspirations.