“It’s Fine, You Can Relax at the Dacha,” My Husband Said After Transferring Our Vacation Money to His Brother
Lena stared at her phone screen, unable to believe her eyes. The bank notification glowed with a cold blue light: “287,000 rubles transferred. Recipient: Zaytsev D. A.”
Dmitry Anatolyevich Zaytsev was Dimka, her husband’s brother. The same Dimka who had borrowed money from them three years earlier for “a friend’s wedding” and had never paid it back. The same Dimka who was always getting himself into trouble while Andrey, her husband, was constantly bailing him out.
“Andrey!” Her voice came out quieter than she had intended. “Andrey, what is this?”
Her husband came out of the bathroom, drying his hands with a towel. The moment he saw her face, he understood everything.
“Lena, I wanted to tell you…”
“That’s our vacation money,” she said, still speaking quietly, as though she were afraid that if she raised her voice, she would no longer be able to stop. “That’s the money we spent two years saving. For the sea. For Cyprus. You remember Cyprus, don’t you, Andrey?”
He sighed heavily and sat down on the sofa without looking at her.
“Dimka got himself into serious trouble. He has a loan he wasn’t paying. Debt collectors started calling him. They threatened to take him to court, and after that, enforcement proceedings wouldn’t be far behind. He could have lost his apartment.”
“So what?” Lena felt a wave of outrage spreading through her. “Let him pay his own debts. He’s an adult, Andrey. He’s thirty-eight years old.”
“He’s my brother.”
“And who am I?” she blurted out. “Who am I to you, Andrey?”
He finally looked at her. There was so much exhaustion and hopelessness in his eyes that Lena was momentarily taken aback.
“You’re my wife. You’re the most important person in my life. But he’s my brother, Lena. My only brother. I couldn’t simply turn my back on him.”
“So you turned your back on me instead.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“How am I supposed to say it?!” Her voice broke into a shout. “Two years, Andrey! We spent two years saving that money. Do you remember how I decided not to buy a new fur coat? How you worked overtime for three months in a row? We dreamed about this trip. I already paid for the reservation and bought the tickets! I bought them a week ago!”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“‘Sorry’? Is that all?” She laughed, and the sound was hysterical even to her own ears. “Were you ever planning to discuss this with me? Or did you simply decide that I would somehow understand and forgive you? Like always?”
Andrey remained silent, and his silence was worse than any words.
“When you transferred the money, what were you thinking about?” Lena asked as she sat in the armchair opposite him. Her anger receded, giving way to a strange emptiness. “Were you thinking about me? About us?”
“I was thinking about the fact that my brother was in danger of losing his home,” Andrey replied quietly. “And I was thinking that if I were in his position, he would help me.”
“Really? I’m not so sure about that.” Lena gave a bitter smile. “Your brother showed up at our wedding hungover and spent half the night asleep at the table. In ten years of our marriage, your brother has never once wished me a happy birthday. Your brother…”
“That’s enough.” Andrey stood up. “Yes, he isn’t perfect. Yes, he has screwed up many times. But he’s my brother, and I couldn’t do anything else.”
“You could have. You could have said no. You could have asked him to look for other options. At the very least, you could have discussed it with me before transferring ALL of our savings!”
“It’s fine, you can relax at the dacha,” he snapped as he headed toward the door. “Two weeks at the dacha is still a vacation.”
Lena froze. The words echoed through her mind, filling her with such overwhelming rage that for a moment, she completely lost the ability to speak.
“What?” she finally managed to squeeze out.
“Well…” Andrey spread his hands, clearly realizing that he had said something foolish but no longer able to stop himself. “We have a dacha. We can go there and relax. Barbecue, a river nearby. What’s wrong with that?”
“The dacha,” Lena repeated slowly. “The dacha with no hot water and a leaking roof, forty minutes away along a broken road. That dacha?”
“I’ll fix the roof. And we can heat the water. We have a tank…”
“Shut up,” Lena said wearily. “Just shut up, Andrey.”
She stood up and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She sat on the bed and stared at the wall. There were no tears. They had disappeared somewhere, evaporating along with her dreams of snow-white beaches, a warm sea, and Greek tavernas.
Cyprus. She had read so much about it. She had chosen a hotel overlooking the bay and studied different excursion routes. She had imagined herself and Andrey walking through narrow streets, drinking coffee in small cafés, and having fresh fish for dinner.
Instead, there would be a dacha at the end of a broken road.
The worst part was not even the ruined vacation. The worst part was that Andrey had not even considered asking for her opinion. He had simply made the decision. For her. For both of them. He had decided that his brother was more important.
Lena took out her phone and opened her chat with Marina, her best friend.
“Marina, can you talk right now?”
The reply came almost immediately.
“Of course. What happened?”
Lena typed a long message telling her everything—about the money, Dimka, the dacha, and the words, “It’s fine, you can relax there.”
She sent it and waited.
Her phone rang a minute later.
“Lena, are you all right?” Marina’s voice sounded worried.
“I don’t know,” Lena admitted honestly. “I’m not crying, shouting, or smashing dishes. But I feel completely empty.”
“That’s normal. You’re in shock.”
“Marina, I want to file for divorce.”
There was silence.
“Lena…” Marina began cautiously. “Are you sure? Maybe you should calm down first and think everything through.”
“I am calm.” Lena was surprised by how firm her voice sounded. “I have never been this calm. You see, this isn’t the first time. Three years ago, he gave Dimka fifty thousand rubles for ‘a friend’s wedding.’ He never paid it back. A year ago, Andrey ‘lent’ him our car. His brother wrecked it, and we paid for the repairs. Every time, Andrey said it would be the last time, that Dimka would change, that he was his brother and he couldn’t act differently.”
“And you’ve only decided this now?”
“I’ve only just realized that nothing will ever change. He will always choose his brother. And I will always come second.”
“Talk to him again. Have a serious conversation.”
“What is there to talk about, Marina? He has already said everything. ‘It’s fine, you can relax at the dacha.’ That’s how he sees our life together. I dream about the sea, and he offers me the dacha. I want his support, and he chooses his brother.”
They continued talking for a long time until Lena finally began to feel tired. They said goodbye, and silence settled over the room again.
She lay on the bed, trying to understand exactly when everything had gone wrong. They had once been happy. Andrey had been attentive and caring. He brought her flowers for no reason, they went for walks in the evenings, and they discussed their plans for the future. A house, children, travel—everything had seemed so simple and achievable.
Then Dimka had begun interfering in their lives.
At first, the requests had been small: lend him some money until payday, drive him somewhere, or help him with repairs. Andrey always helped, and Lena did not object. She herself had grown up in a family where relatives supported one another.
But for Dimka, “until payday” turned into “never.” Repairs dragged on for months, and his requests became increasingly shameless. Andrey could not refuse him. He did not know how.
Lena stood up and walked over to the window. It was dark outside, and the streetlights had come on.
Somewhere out there, in a parallel reality, there was another Lena—the Lena who was packing her suitcase for Cyprus right now. The Lena whose husband discussed important decisions with her. The Lena who was happy.
The bedroom door opened slightly.
“Lena.” Andrey stood in the doorway, looking uncertain and guilty. “I brought you some tea.”
She looked at him—at the man with whom she had spent ten years of her life. His face was so familiar and dear to her. His temples were beginning to turn gray, and there were wrinkles around his eyes that appeared whenever he smiled.
But he was not smiling now.
“Thank you,” she said automatically.
He placed the cup on the bedside table and stood there, clearly unsure whether he should leave or stay.
“Andrey,” Lena began calmly. “Answer me honestly. When you transferred the money, did you think about me for even one second?”
“I…” He hesitated. “I thought you would understand.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I was thinking about Dimka. About the fact that he needed help immediately. And I… I hoped you would understand.”
“Yes, I always understood. I always pretended that everything was fine. I was always the understanding wife. And where has that brought us, Andrey?”
“I love you,” he said quietly. “You know that.”
“I do. But love isn’t enough. It isn’t enough to talk about love when your actions say the opposite.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you really loved me, you would have discussed it with me. If I mattered to you, you would have thought about our plans instead of thinking only about your brother. If you respected me, you wouldn’t have suggested that I ‘relax at the dacha’ instead of going to the sea.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you with those words.”
“But you did. Because you don’t even understand what was so hurtful about them. You sincerely believe that the dacha is a reasonable replacement for the vacation we spent two years dreaming about.”
Andrey sat down on the edge of the bed and lowered his head.
“What can I do?” he asked. “How can I fix this?”
“I don’t know,” Lena answered honestly. “I truly don’t know. The money has already been transferred. The vacation has been ruined. And I… I’m tired, Andrey. I’m tired of coming second after your brother. I’m tired of making excuses for you in my own mind. I’m tired of hoping that one day you’ll finally start thinking about us.”
He remained silent, and Lena understood that the conversation had reached a dead end. They were going in circles, and neither of them was changing their position.
“I need time,” she said. “I need to think about us. About our marriage. About whether we have a future.”
Andrey jerked his head up.
“What are you talking about? Divorce?”
“Maybe.” She remained calm, although everything inside her tightened painfully. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know, Andrey. Just leave me alone right now. Please.”
He left and closed the door behind him, leaving Lena alone once again.
Divorce.
The word had always seemed abstract before, something that happened to other people.
“They’re getting divorced.”
“They’re going through a divorce.”
It had always been about someone else, never about her. Never about her and Andrey.
Now the word sounded frighteningly real.
What would happen next? Would she move out? Rent an apartment? Divide their property? It seemed like such a ridiculous concept when they had almost nothing to divide. A television, a sofa, dishes—everything they had chosen together, everything that had been part of their shared life, would suddenly become an object to be divided.
And then what?
Would she start everything over again? At thirty-five? A new life, new relationships, new attempts to build something with someone?
Lena ran a hand over her face. She was tired. So tired of the internal struggle and of trying to understand whether she was making the right decision.
Was there even such a thing as a right decision?
Her phone vibrated.
It was a message from her mother.
“Lenochka, how are you? Your father and I are so happy for you! You’ll finally be going to Cyprus soon! Send us lots of pictures afterward. I’ve already been bragging about your trip to all my friends.”
Lena’s heart contracted painfully.
Her mother. She would have to explain everything to her. Then she would have to explain it to Andrey’s parents. Their friends. Her colleagues. She would have to explain to everyone why they had not gone, why she looked sad, why…
Why did she have to explain anything to anyone?
Lena placed the phone face down and lay back, closing her eyes.
Maybe everything would look different in the morning. Maybe they would find the words that could change everything. Maybe…
But deep down, she knew that nothing would change.
The problem was not the money or the vacation. The problem was that she and Andrey lived in different realities. To him, family was a broad concept that included his brother and all of his problems. To her, family meant the two of them, their life, and their dreams.
Those two realities no longer intersected.
Andrey moved out three days later. He took only the essentials—clothes, his laptop, and his documents. The apartment became empty, unfamiliar, and cold.
Lena walked from room to room, becoming accustomed to the silence. To the absence of his footsteps, his voice, and his presence. It felt strange and painful at the same time.
Marina visited almost every day, sometimes using “stopping by for tea” as an excuse and sometimes suggesting that they watch a film together. Lena was grateful for her support and for the chance not to be completely alone.
“How are you?” Marina would ask.
“I don’t know,” Lena would reply. “I think I’m all right. I think I’m managing.”
“Will you forgive him?”
“I don’t know that either. Sometimes I feel as though I’m losing my mind. One moment I want to call him and tell him to come home, and the next I think it would be better to divorce immediately instead of continuing to torment each other.”
“You have the right to make any decision,” Marina told her. “The important thing is that it should be your decision. Not Andrey’s, not Dimka’s, and not mine. Yours.”
And Lena thought.
She thought a great deal about what connected her to Andrey and what separated them. She wondered whether they could still have a future or whether they were simply clinging to the past.
Two weeks later, Andrey sent her a message.
“May I come over? I need to show you something.”
Lena stared at the screen for a long time before replying.
“Come.”
He arrived carrying a folder of documents and a laptop. He looked tired, but there was a new determination in his eyes.
“I got a second job,” Andrey explained. “I’ll be working on weekends. I’ve also taken additional shifts at my main job. This is the first money I earned. It’s for our vacation. A new vacation.”
“Andrey…”
“Please let me finish. I talked to Dimka. I had a serious conversation with him. I told him I would no longer solve his problems for him. I told him he was an adult and that it was time for him to take responsibility for his own life. He got offended and hasn’t called me for a week. And do you know what? I feel relieved.”
He took her hand.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me immediately. I’m not asking you to return everything to the way it was. Because the way things were before was wrong. I’m asking you to give us one more chance. To build something new. Something where you come first. Something where your wishes and dreams are more important than my brother’s problems.”
Tears rolled down Lena’s cheeks, and she did not try to stop them.
“I was so afraid,” she whispered. “I was afraid that if I forgave you, everything would happen again. That I would become second place again.”
“You won’t. I promise. No—I swear. I swear on my life.”
She looked at him, at the man whom she loved and was afraid of losing. The man she loved while also being afraid of losing herself beside him.
“I still need more time,” she said quietly. “But… I want to try. I want to believe you.”
Andrey pressed her hand to his lips, and Lena felt something inside her beginning to melt and thaw.
They sat on the sofa for a long time, holding hands and talking. They talked about the past, the future, and how they could begin again.
“You know,” Lena said as darkness began to fall outside, “maybe we should go to the dacha after all. Just for a little while. You can fix the roof, heat water in the tank… We can have barbecues and go to the river.”
Andrey laughed.
“Seriously?”
“Why not? Cyprus isn’t going anywhere. And the dacha… maybe it’s exactly what we need. A place where we can learn how to be together again. Without ceremony or luxury. Just the two of us, a fire, and the stars above our heads.”
He embraced her, and she allowed herself to relax in his arms.
A long road lay ahead of them—a road toward forgiveness, trust, and a new version of their relationship. But at that moment, she simply allowed herself to be there.
With him.
The dacha it was.
Cyprus could wait.
The important thing was that she now understood they had not needed a vacation by the sea. They had needed a vacation from each other so they could understand how deeply they needed one another.
And now it was time to come home.
To the place where home was not a location, but a person.
