Two weeks after her divorce, Arina found herself sitting at the kitchen table on a Sunday with a calculator, figuring out what life costs when there’s suddenly one less adult man in it.
Surprisingly, the numbers weren’t too bad.
Utilities came to a little over nine thousand. The electricity bill should go down now: Denis had a knack for leaving the TV on in the living room, the hallway light burning, and the computer running in the study—all while he disappeared into the shower.
Internet: eight hundred ninety rubles.
Gasoline.
Groceries.
Car insurance.
And another seventeen thousand eight hundred rubles for the monthly consumer loan payment.
The loan had been taken out in Arina’s name a year and a half ago, back when they decided to replace the living room and bedroom furniture. Denis had suggested they wait and save up, but Arina insisted: the old sofa squeaked even when she just laid a blanket on it.
After the divorce, the furniture stayed in her apartment, so Arina decided there was no point in arguing about the loan.
She opened her banking app, noted her outstanding balance—two hundred eighty-four thousand—and figured she could add another twenty-five thousand per month on top of the required payments.
That meant she could pay off the loan by spring.
And then, finally, she could work on the kitchen.
Arina was about to put the calculator away when her phone vibrated.
It was Galina Borisovna calling.
Her former mother-in-law.
The word “former” still felt strange to her.
“Arinochka, you haven’t forgotten about the clinic, have you?”
Arina glanced at her laptop screen, as if the answer might be hiding there.
“Which clinic?”
“What do you mean, which one? I told you, didn’t I? I’ve got those procedures scheduled for October. They need to be paid for by the twenty-fifth, or they’ll give my spot away.”
Arina really did remember.
Back in the spring, Galina Borisovna had a course of treatments for her back at a private clinic. She and Denis paid fourteen thousand rubles together back then. Denis had explained that after winter, his mom always had lots of expenses, and that health couldn’t wait.
Arina hadn’t argued.
But that was when they were married.
“Galina Borisovna, didn’t Denis send you the money?”
There was a pause on the other end.
“But why would it be just Denis’s responsibility?”
Now it was Arina’s turn to hesitate.
“Who else’s, then?”
“Well, you two always helped me together.”
Arina slowly closed her laptop.
“We’re not together anymore.”
“I know that. Denis told me. But it should be easier for you now. The apartment’s yours, no more mortgage, and you’re on your own.”
Arina had to ask again:
“Easier?”
“Well, financially speaking. There’s fewer expenses now.”
Galina Borisovna said this completely calmly. She wasn’t demanding or rude. She simply spoke with the special confidence of someone who isn’t asking for something extra, just wanting to know when they’ll get what they’re used to.
After the call, Arina sat motionless for several minutes.
Then she opened her banking app again.
In truth, the divorce from Denis had gone almost perfectly.
No kids, no division of the apartment, no lawyers, no arguments over who owned the microwave.
Arina’s parents had bought her the three-room apartment long before the wedding. Her father once made a good sale of his share in a small business, added his savings, and decided to help his only daughter with a place to live.
Arina was already living there when she met Denis.
After two years together, Denis moved in with her. A year later, they got married.
They were married for eight years.
Each of them had a car. Denis had bought his before they tied the knot. Arina’s car was purchased three years ago, while they were already married. But when they split, Denis didn’t claim it. They agreed that the car and the recently bought furniture would stay with Arina, and she would continue paying off the loan in her name. Neither of them wanted to argue over things.
Denis even packed up his things in a single evening.
He took his clothes, tools, the coffee machine his brother had given him, half the books, and his old metal mug—the one Arina had been thinking of tossing out for ages.
He rented a studio in a new building, just fifteen minutes from his job.
It seemed like they’d finally be able to go their separate ways.
It was actually Denis who suggested the divorce.
The last year, he and Arina were constantly arguing about money.
Not because Denis earned too little.
He worked as a sales department manager at a company dealing with engineering equipment, and in a good month, his salary was around 120,000 to 130,000 rubles.
Arina worked in procurement for a large retail chain and earned about the same.
The problem was something else entirely.
Denis, for some reason, saw their family budget not as something for the two of them, but as a kind of mutual aid fund for his entire family.
One day, Kirill urgently needed to pay for his garage.
Another time, his mother needed money for medicine.
Then his cousin started a bathroom renovation, only to find she was 15,000 rubles short until payday.
Or Galina Borisovna’s garden needed a new pump.
At first, the fact that Denis helped out didn’t bother Arina.
She had also given her parents money a few times when they needed it.
What annoyed her was something else.
Denis never discussed helping his family with his wife first.
He would make promises first.
And only then tell her about it.
Once, they were planning to buy tickets to Kaliningrad, and Arina discovered that Denis had already transferred 20,000 of their savings for the trip to Kirill.
“He had some equipment break down.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me?”
“I was going to.”
“When? After we got back from Kaliningrad?”
Back then, it was still something they could laugh about.
Six months later, it stopped being funny.
The last straw was a conversation about the kitchen.
Arina wanted to set aside 20,000 rubles every month, so in a year they could replace their cabinets and appliances without taking on more debt.
Denis agreed.
But three weeks later, he informed her that he’d promised his mom he would pay for repairs to her country house’s water supply.
“How much?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe around seventy thousand.”
“Denis, we were just talking about the kitchen twenty minutes ago.”
“What was I supposed to do? Tell my mom to go without water just because we want new cabinets?”
But the water supply was working just fine. The only issue was that the old pipes at Galina Borisovna’s plot needed replacing because her neighbor had put in new ones and convinced her, “these old ones won’t last much longer.”
After yet another argument, Denis finally said, sounding tired:
“Maybe it’d just be easier if we lived apart?”
Arina replied,
“Maybe.”
A month later, he filed for divorce.
That’s why at first, Arina decided to treat Galina Borisovna’s call about the clinic as some kind of misunderstanding.
Until the evening.
At half past eight, Denis messaged her.
“Mom called. Why did you tell her about the procedures?”
Arina replied:
“That you should pay for them.”
Her phone immediately rang.
“Arina, why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“As if she’s a total stranger to you.”
“Denis, we’re divorced.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Great. Makes it easier to talk.”
Denis was silent for a moment.
“I just don’t get why everything has to be cut off so suddenly.”
“What exactly?”
“Help.”
Arina opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and started pouring it into a glass.
“Whose help?”
“My parents. Well, mostly my mom.”
“Your mom.”
“Arina, for eight years she was your mother-in-law.”
“And now she’s not.”
“But she’s still the same person.”
“But our family situation has changed.”
Denis had a completely unexpected comeback for this:
“Right now, you objectively have it easier than I do.”
Arina even stopped pouring water.
“And why is that?”
“You have your own apartment. I’m paying forty-three thousand for a studio. Plus utilities. I paid the deposit. Had to buy some furniture, too.”
“And?”
“So I just have fewer opportunities right now.”
That’s when, for the first time, Arina realized this wasn’t a mistake at all.
Denis really believed that after their divorce, she should keep contributing to his family’s expenses.
Because now he had his own costs from the consequences of the divorce.
“Hold on,” Arina said. “How much exactly do you think I should be paying?”
“Nobody’s saying you ‘should.'”
“Fine. How much do you assume I’ll voluntarily and cheerfully pay?”
“It needs to be calculated.”
“Calculate it.”
She hung up.
The next day, Denis didn’t send anything.
Nor did he send anything the day after that.
But on Friday evening, Arina received a file from him.
At first, she thought it was a work document he sent to the wrong address.
Then she opened it.
The top row read: “Regular Expenses.”
Then there were the columns.
Mom – medicine and procedures: 15,000.
Mom – groceries: 6,000.
Kirill – garage: 8,000.
Dacha – utilities and communications: 3,000.
Reserve for water pipes: 8,000.
Total: 40,000.
Arina read through the table twice.
She especially liked the word “reserve.”
She immediately called Denis.
“Are you serious?”
“What?”
“I just got a business plan.”
“What business plan?”
“‘Denis’s Family Service Plan. Forty thousand a month.'”
“Don’t exaggerate. You asked how much.”
“I asked to understand the scale of the disaster.”
“And what’s so terrible about this?”
“Denis, you’re asking me to give forty thousand a month to your relatives.”
“Not relatives. Mostly my mom.”
“Twenty-one thousand to your mother, eight to Kirill, three to the dacha, and eight into a piggy bank for pipes. By the way, why are the pipes my problem now?”
“You used to say they would have to be replaced anyway.”
“I said a lot of things. For example, that we needed a new kitchen. Are you going to chip in after the divorce?”
“The kitchen stays with you.”
“Exactly.”
Denis let out an annoyed sigh.
“You know perfectly well what I mean.”
“Not yet. But the table helps.”
After their conversation, Arina decided to figure out just how much money had gone to her ex-husband’s family over the past few years.
And that’s when things really got interesting for her.
She and Denis had never split expenses down to the last ruble.
They both earned decent money. Every month, Denis would transfer funds for household expenses, while Arina would pay utility bills, buy groceries, handle insurance, tickets, and bigger purchases from her own card. Sometimes, Denis paid for things instead.
If a relative needed a little help, Arina never launched an investigation over five or ten thousand rubles.
But now, she opened up her transaction history and began to look more closely.
Last winter – four grocery deliveries for Galina Borisovna.
In February – Kirill’s insurance payment.
In the spring – two dacha bills.
Last autumn – a yearly payment for internet at the dacha.
In the summer – three transfers to Kirill marked ‘garage’.
There were also medicines.
There was a new battery for Galina Borisovna’s car, which she only used in the summertime.
There was a plumber’s visit.
There was even an order from a hardware store paid for with Arina’s card.
In fact, she now realized she couldn’t even remember many of the amounts herself.
Denis would say:
‘Mom needs groceries delivered.’
And Arina would order them.
‘Kirill needs a small loan until the end of the week.’
And she’d send the money.
Kirill never paid her back, but a month later, another request would come along, and somehow those previous six thousand rubles just didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Over two years, the total added up to several hundred thousand rubles.
Not all of it was paid by Arina alone—Denis contributed to family expenses during their marriage too. But the whole system turned out to be much more extensive than she’d realized.
What shocked Arina most was just how quietly a temporary favor had become a permanent thing.
Galina Borisovna no longer asked whether the kids could cover the internet costs.
She simply announced it was time to renew the service.
Kirill didn’t say:
‘I don’t have enough for the garage rent.’
He’d ask:
‘Same as usual this month?’
Arina found one of his older messages and even laughed a little.
Same as usual.
As if she had a subscription for them.
That very night, she canceled everything that was still linked to her card.
No more grocery deliveries.
No more dacha internet payments.
No more automatic payments for some of Galina Borisovna’s utilities.
And she stopped the regular transfer to Kirill—something Denis had once asked her to set up, ‘so we don’t have to remember every month.’
She didn’t bother telling Denis anything about it.
Galina Borisovna was the first to notice.
At the start of October, the annual dacha internet payment was due. Previously, 8,400 rubles would come right off Arina’s card automatically. Now, the renewal didn’t go through, and the service asked Galina Borisovna to pay for the next year herself.
She called Arina right away.
‘Arina, my internet didn’t renew.’
‘I know.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I canceled the payment from my card.’
‘Why didn’t you warn me?’
‘Why should I?’
Galina Borisovna clearly didn’t expect that question.
‘Well, I would have at least prepared myself.’
‘Prepared for what?’
‘For the expenses.’
Arina glanced out the window.
Outside, the groundskeeper was herding wet leaves toward the curb.
‘Galina Borisovna, that’s your internet at your dacha.’
‘I understand. But you and Denis used to…’
‘That was back when I was married to Denis.’
Galina Borisovna let out a sigh.
“Now you explain everything through the divorce.”
Arina nearly burst out laughing.
She thought divorce was made exactly for this—to explain certain changes to former relatives.
Kirill was the second to notice the new arrangements.
He messaged her without even saying hi:
“Are you transferring the garage this month?”
Arina replied:
“No.”
A minute later:
“Not at all?”
“Not at all.”
Kirill didn’t write anything else.
But that evening Denis called.
“Why did you have to bother Kirill?”
“I didn’t bother him.”
“You know what I mean.”
“He asked about the eight thousand. I answered.”
“It’s the end of the season for him now, fewer orders.”
Kirill repaired and serviced motorcycles. In spring and summer, he worked nearly nonstop; in autumn, orders really did slow down.
“And what does the motorcycle season have to do with me?”
“It didn’t bother you before.”
“Before, you were my husband.”
“Here we go again.”
“Denis, this is quite the conversation. You filed for divorce, moved out, we got the official papers, and now every time you’re surprised that some perks of marriage are gone too.”
The next evening, Denis showed up.
He called ahead, so Arina answered the door herself.
He looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes, and a wet spot from the misty rain stained his jacket sleeve.
In just two weeks of living alone, Denis had realized a few things that used to just happen by themselves.
Laundry detergent ran out.
Towels didn’t magically become clean.
Groceries actually cost money.
And if you wanted a decent power strip in your apartment, you had to buy it yourself.
He went to the kitchen and sat in his old spot by the window.
Arina put the kettle on.
“I didn’t come because of Kirill,” Denis said.
“That’s already a relief.”
“It’s about Mom.”
“That’s worse.”
“Arina, she’s sixty-seven.”
“I know.”
“Her pension is twenty-eight thousand.”
“I remember.”
“She has a lot of medication.”
That was true.
Galina Borisovna had issues with her joints and blood pressure. She bought some medications regularly.
So Arina didn’t joke.
“Denis, I never said your mom should stop buying her medicine.”
“Then at least keep helping her.”
“Why me?”
He was silent for a while.
“Because you make good money.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Because you were part of our family for eight years.”
“Were.”
Arina set a mug in front of him.
“Your mom has her own two-bedroom apartment. She gets a pension. She has you. She has Kirill. Kirill is thirty-four, he works. So why, after the divorce, is the ex-wife of one of her sons supposed to remain the main sponsor in this setup?”
“I’m not saying the main one.”
“Forty thousand in your spreadsheet—that’s almost half of what’s left of my income after covering my essential expenses.”
“It could be less.”
“Denis, it’s not even about the amount anymore.”
She took out her phone.
“After the divorce I decided to pay off the furniture loan early. I want to add twenty-five thousand a month to that. Save another twenty toward a new kitchen. That’s forty-five in total. And you’re asking me to give forty to your family. So basically, I’d have to put off all my plans again.”
“But you got your apartment from your parents.”
At this point, Arina finally smiled.
“So, my parents bought me an apartment just so I could support your relatives?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But that’s exactly how it sounded.”
Denis rubbed his chin with his palm.
“It’s just hard to manage everything on my own right now.”
And with that phrase, everything finally fell into place for Arina.
It wasn’t about his mother.
It wasn’t about the medication.
It wasn’t about family obligations.
Denis’s own budget had changed.
The studio cost forty-three thousand per month. When he moved in, he also paid the same amount as a deposit. He had to buy a mattress, kitchenware, a laundry rack, and some small appliances.
Back when he lived in Arina’s apartment, he didn’t pay any rent.
Now, he did.
After moving, Denis couldn’t help his relatives as much as he used to. Instead of reconsidering his promises to his mother and Kirill, he decided to shift the extra expenses onto Arina.
“So, you’re giving your mother less money now because you’re renting?”
“Just temporarily.”
“And I’m supposed to make up the difference?”
“Not in so many words.”
“What words would make it sound any better?”
He didn’t answer.
They parted ways that time without another argument.
Denis finished his tea and left.
Four days later, Arina saw a new photo of Kirill.
He was standing by the garage, wearing a brand new motorcycle helmet.
Under the photo, Kirill wrote that he finally bought the helmet he’d been saving for, and even bragged about the price—fifty-two thousand. Out of curiosity, Arina searched for that model online and confirmed the price was accurate.
She sent Denis a screenshot.
No caption needed.
He replied about ten minutes later:
“I already saw it.”
A minute after that:
“And I already talked to him about it.”
Arina responded:
“Don’t. His money, his choice.”
And that was the truth.
Kirill had every right to buy himself a helmet or even a second motorcycle if he wanted.
But Arina also had every right not to pay garage rent for someone who could spend fifty thousand on a hobby.
Later on, it turned out that this whole situation ended up being helpful for everyone.
Except, perhaps, for Galina Borisovna, who still considered all of this a personal betrayal for quite some time.
A month later, Denis moved out of the expensive studio.
He found a regular one-bedroom apartment in an old building for thirty-three thousand. Not as nice, but ten thousand cheaper.
He started sending the difference to his mom.
They sorted out the medication expenses too: Denis bought the basic meds, and they agreed that he and Kirill would split the expensive treatments when truly necessary. Denis ended up paying for the October course himself, even before the twenty-fifth to make sure his mom didn’t lose her spot. Later, he and Kirill settled on always sharing such costs between them.
At first, Kirill spent a few weeks complaining the garage was just breaking even.
Then he reconsidered his pricing.
It turned out he’d been keeping some prices below market for years because he felt awkward about raising them for loyal customers.
He raised them.
Nobody left.
Two months later, Denis mentioned casually:
“Can you believe it? Now he pays his own rent and even has some left over.”
“The wonders of economics,” Arina replied. “You can actually spend your income on your expenses.”
Denis snorted.
In the past, he would’ve taken offense at a comment like that.
Now he stayed silent.
Their conversations became calmer overall.
But they spoke only rarely.
Mostly just about the remaining minor details.
Once, Denis picked up his toolbox that he’d forgotten in the storage room. Another time, he brought Arina a book that had accidentally ended up in his things.
Neither of them intended to return to each other or discuss the divorce again.
But Denis slowly stopped seeing his ex-wife as a backup family wallet.
The test came at the end of November.
He called her one evening.
“There’s a leak in the pipe at Mom’s dacha.”
Instantly, Arina remembered the spreadsheet.
Those same eight thousand set aside every month as a reserve.
“Is it bad?”
“The plumber checked it. The section needs to be replaced. It should be done before the big freeze.”
“How much?”
“Fifty-eight thousand.”
“Got it.”
Denis went quiet.
Then finally he said:
“I wanted to ask… Maybe you could help just this once? Maybe twenty thousand. I’ll pay you back…”
Arina cut him off:
“Denis, you filed for divorce, and now I’m supposed to support your family?”
This time, he didn’t start explaining about eight years of marriage or the spacious, mortgage-free apartment.
He just let out a heavy sigh.
“Alright. That did sound stupid.”
“Especially after the spreadsheet.”
“Can we ever forget about the spreadsheet?”
“No. It was just too good.”
The next day, Denis made arrangements with Kirill. Each chipped in twenty-nine thousand, and the pipe was replaced.
Without Arina.
And in December, for the first time in many years, she opened her banking app and didn’t see a single transfer to Denis’s relatives.
By then, the loan had almost been cut in half thanks to early payments.
On a separate savings account, she had the first sixty thousand saved up for the kitchen.
Galina Borisovna was still upset with her.
One day, she even sent a message via Denis, saying she “didn’t expect such ingratitude.”
Arina asked:
“Exactly what am I supposed to be grateful for?”
Denis thought about it.
“I don’t know. I told her pretty much the same thing.”
And that’s when Arina saw a real change for the first time.
Not when her ex admitted he’d been wrong.
And not when he stopped sending spreadsheets.
But when, faced with a similar situation, he didn’t ask Arina to sacrifice for his mother’s peace of mind—instead, he asked his mother an uncomfortable question himself.
By spring, Arina paid off the furniture loan.
She decided to renovate the kitchen in the fall, to avoid taking out a new loan and save the full amount calmly.
Denis kept helping his mother, but only within his own budget.
Kirill paid for the garage on his own.
Galina Borisovna renewed the dacha internet with her own money—and as it turned out, she survived that perfectly well.
And Arina never received any more spreadsheets.
Although she did save that original file.
Not out of sentimentality.
Sometimes, it’s just good to have proof of just how strange perfectly serious people can become when it comes to splitting up someone else’s money.