One Friday in September, Veronika stayed at work almost an hour late. Before the weekend, there was always someone who «just needed to clarify a quick question for a minute» right at 5:30—and that minute always turned into forty-five.
So as she headed home, her ambitions were modest: kick off her shoes, plug in her phone, order some food, and make no decisions more serious than picking a movie until Saturday.
But a decision was already waiting for her at home.
On the fridge, there was an A4 sheet taped up.
At the top, written by hand:
«WEDDING — ESSENTIAL EXPENSES»
Below, there was a neatly organized list:
restaurant;
host;
photographer;
venue decorating;
cake;
music;
saxophonist;
photo zone;
doves — check the price.
The last line was circled twice:
«Anton and Veronika — 280,000»
Veronika set her bag down on the bench in the entryway, went back to the fridge, and looked at the number again.
It hadn’t changed.
Next to the shoe rack was Raisa Gennadyevna’s travel bag—her mother-in-law was planning to stay the night.
She could hear Raisa Gennadyevna’s voice coming from the kitchen. Her mother-in-law was on the phone, telling someone, «Young people these days can’t organize anything themselves. If you don’t take charge, they’ll just sign the papers and go eat pizza.»
Anton was standing by the coffee machine, looking at her with such concentration you’d think pressing the right button would save their marriage.
«Anton.»
«I see it,» he said.
«What exactly do you see?»
He glanced at the sheet.
«Mom made that today.»
«Ah. Now it all makes sense.»
«Veronika…»
«No, seriously, it makes so much more sense now. At first I just thought the bank changed the format of notifications and now reports account withdrawals via the fridge.»
Anton looked away.
Veronika took the paper off the magnet.
«Since when do our finances get approved by a family committee without us?»
Raisa Gennadyevna heard that last comment and appeared in the kitchen doorway, phone in hand.
She was fifty-nine. She worked as an administrator at a private dental clinic, was used to planning everything in advance, and was very proud of the fact that «if she’s going to do something, she’ll do it properly.»
Sometimes that was actually handy. Like at her father-in-law’s birthday party, she remembered which guests didn’t eat meat and who couldn’t have mayonnaise. Diana’s father, Gennady Ivanovich, never got involved in the party planning—he always said he’d just give money as a present and stay out of the way.
Problems always started when Raisa Gennadyevna decided to organize something that wasn’t hers.
«What’s wrong with that?» she asked, surprised. «I calculated everything in advance so nobody would be scrambling at the last minute.»
«I can see that. Especially the last two hundred and eighty thousand you calculated so well.»
Anton set his cup on the table.
«Mom, I told you, we haven’t decided anything yet.»
«What is there to decide?» Raisa Gennadyevna waved her hand. «Diana only gets married once.»
«That’s what we hope, at least,» Veronika remarked.
Anton coughed into his fist.
His mother didn’t appreciate the joke.
Her younger daughter Diana was really getting married. In just two months, she and Kirill planned to have a civil ceremony at the local registry office, then invite around twenty guests to dinner at a restaurant that evening.
Their plan was simple.
A nice dinner, a good photographer booked for a few hours, parents, Diana’s brother and his wife, and a handful of friends. The next day, the newlyweds were heading off for a week-long trip to the Kaliningrad region.
At least, that’s what Veronika had heard from Diana herself just a week ago.
But in the past seven days, Raisa Gennadievna had managed to seriously upgrade someone else’s wedding.
The guest list had jumped from twenty to seventy.
Now there were third cousins, grandma’s former neighbor, a second cousin on the dad’s side—who Diana herself refers to as ‘that tall guy, I think his name is Viktor’—and several families that the bride’s mother used to vacation with at a spa.
Suddenly, they needed a big banquet hall.
Next, it turned out that without a host for seven hours, the wedding would basically be considered incomplete.
Then a saxophonist was added to the mix.
And by Friday morning, doves were added to the plans.
Veronika was still holding the list.
«Where did our 280,000 come from anyway?»
Raisa Gennadievna glanced at her son for just a second.
That was enough.
Veronika turned to Anton.
«Did you say something?»
«I didn’t say we’d give them the money.»
«So, what did you say?»
Anton winced.
«I just said we have some savings.»
«Which ones exactly?»
She already knew the answer.
Almost 300,000 rubles they’d been saving for their vacation.
Veronika was 33, and Anton was 35. She worked as a procurement specialist at a large trading company, and he was an engineer with a service organization. Both had decent salaries, but it’s not like they had 300,000 rubles lying around every month next to the sugar bowl and the tea.
They hadn’t really taken a proper vacation in the past two years.
First, Anton switched jobs and didn’t want to take a long break right after starting. Then Veronika was launching a major project over the summer. Last year, they only managed four days in Nizhny Novgorod, with Anton spending half of Saturday in the hotel working on his laptop.
That spring, they decided: this fall, they’re taking three weeks off.
They wanted to start with Kazan, then head to Yoshkar-Ola for a few days, and continue on to Nizhny Novgorod and Vladimir. No fancy five-star hotels or dinners every night, but they just wanted to go at their own pace—no more of that constant ‘we really should be heading back.’
By September, their dedicated savings account held 296,000 rubles.
Part of it was set aside for tickets and hotels, the rest reserved for food, tours, and emergencies.
As it turned out, Anton had mentioned this money to his mom just a couple of days ago.
Not because he planned to hand it over.
It’s just that Raisa Gennadievna was complaining about how expensive everything was, and Anton offhandedly replied:
«We’re budgeting for vacation too—we’ve managed to put aside almost 300,000.»
For his mom, the moment she heard about the money, it immediately became a potential source of wedding funds.
«So what?» Raisa Gennadievna said. «You can always postpone a vacation. But you can’t postpone a wedding.»
Veronika looked at her.
«Why not?»
«Because the date has already been set.»
«We’re not suggesting they change the wedding date.»
So, you’ll just have to reschedule your trip. No vacation for you! That money is needed for my daughter’s wedding.
Anton finally pulled himself away from the coffee machine.
«Mom…»
But Veronika had already laid the wedding budget out on the kitchen table.
She didn’t feel like arguing anymore.
In fact, she was now curious.
She grabbed a pen from the cup next to the notebook and sat down.
«Alright.»
Raisa Gennadievna looked wary.
«Alright what?»
«Let’s say we’re talking about a big family wedding. Show me your contribution.»
«What do you mean?»
«I mean exactly what I said. Here, opposite our names, it says 280,000. How much of that are you personally paying?»
«I’m handling the organization, you know.»
«I can see that. But as far as I know, the restaurant doesn’t accept organization as payment.»
Anton sat down across from his wife.
Raisa Gennadievna remained standing.
«Veronika, I’ve been doing nothing but working on this wedding for three days straight. Searching for a restaurant, calling people, talking to hosts. Do you think all that comes for free?»
«I’m sure it doesn’t. That’s why I’m asking: how many rubles?»
«What do rubles have to do with it?»
«Because right by our names it strangely says rubles.»
Anton lowered his head, but Veronika noticed him smirk.
Raisa Gennadievna sat down next to them.
«I’m buying Diana a dress.»
«How much?»
«We haven’t picked one yet.»
«Roughly?»
«About thirty thousand.»
Veronika wrote in the margin:
«Raisa Gennadievna — 30,000, dress.»
«Anything else?»
«I’ll give her a present.»
«How much?»
«Twenty.»
Veronika added:
«20,000 — present.»
She put the pen down.
«So, that’s fifty thousand from you, thirty of which actually go toward the wedding. And 280,000 from us.»
«You earn more.»
«That’s not answering the question.»
«What’s so unclear here?» her mother-in-law said irritably. «Anton has a good salary. You work, too. No kids. You can help out.»
Veronika looked at her husband.
«Anton, since when is not having kids part of a family taxation system?»
«News to me as well.»
«Don’t twist my words,» Raisa Gennadievna replied. «We’re talking about your sister.»
«That’s exactly why we planned to give her money as a gift,» Veronika answered. «Just not 280,000.»
Her mother-in-law immediately turned to her son.
«What do you mean, money? You said you’d help!»
Anton frowned.
«I said it would be a decent gift.»
«Exactly.»
«I never said it would be 280,000.»
A silence hung in the air.
Veronika picked up the sheet again.
Now she wanted to understand the whole setup.
The wedding Raisa Gennadievna dreamed of — and that’s without even counting doves — came to about 660,000 rubles.
Diana and Kirill had saved 250,000.
Kirill’s parents agreed to put up 100,000.
Raisa Gennadievna was buying the dress for around 30,000.
So, that made 380,000 for the event itself.
The missing 280,000 matched perfectly with the line that said «Anton and Veronika.»
Veronika even nodded in respect.
«Now it makes sense.»
«What makes sense?» Anton asked.
«The math. There wasn’t actually any discussion about who gives what. They just came up with a 660,000-ruble wedding, subtracted everything already promised, and assigned the rest to us.»
Anton glanced at his mother.
She pressed her lips together.
“Well, what was I supposed to do? Turn down a good restaurant?”
“You might have started by asking the bride if she even wanted a fancy restaurant for seventy guests.”
“Diana is still young. She doesn’t realize she’ll regret it later.”
Diana was twenty-seven.
Veronika thought that, at that age, Diana was more than capable of deciding how many guests she wanted at her own wedding.
“And does Diana know that we’re supposed to give two hundred and eighty thousand?”
Raisa Gennadyevna hesitated.
Just for a moment.
But Anton noticed.
“Mom?”
“I told her you wanted to help.”
“How exactly did you say it?”
“Just normally.”
“Mom.”
Raisa Gennadyevna straightened a napkin on the table.
“That you want to give your sister a nice gift.”
“Two hundred and eighty thousand?”
“I didn’t mention the amount.”
Veronika was already grabbing her phone.
“Let’s not guess—let’s find out, then.”
“Who are you calling?” her mother-in-law asked.
“The bride.”
“On a Friday evening? They might be busy.”
“If someone expects two hundred and eighty thousand from us, I think they can spare a minute.”
Diana picked up almost immediately.
There was some banging in the background, then Diana told Kirill, “Wait, I’ll go by the window.”
“Veronika, hey. What’s up?”
“Nothing serious. We’re just talking about your gift. Tell me honestly: what would be most useful for you and Kirill?”
Diana paused.
“What do you mean?”
“Money, something, or maybe something for the apartment?”
“Money, probably. We wanted to save it for a trip afterwards.”
“And how much?”
Raisa Gennadyevna made it very clear she thought this conversation was pointless.
Diana started laughing.
“Veronika, if I name a number, Anton will just say his sister is being greedy.”
“He won’t.”
“Fifty thousand would be amazing. But I already told Mom, you don’t have to give us anything. You’re on vacation.”
Anton shot his mother a sharp look.
Veronika put the call on speaker.
“Diana, have you heard anything about two hundred and eighty thousand?”
There was about three seconds of silence.
“About what?”
Raisa Gennadyevna jumped in:
“Diana, let’s not start making a scene right now. We’re just doing the wedding math.”
“Mom, what two hundred and eighty?”
“Anton wanted to help.”
“Anton, did you?”
“No,” he said. “Veronika and I were planning to give you sixty thousand as a wedding gift. We talked about it last month.”
That was the truth.
When Diana set the date, they agreed right away: thirty thousand each. It was a noticeable amount for their budget, but manageable. They’d also planned their vacation around it—two hundred ninety-six thousand set aside, and the wedding gift would come from their October salaries.
Diana let out a relieved sigh on the other end.
“Sixty is a lot, thank you. But I definitely don’t need two hundred and eighty—especially if it’s your vacation money.”
Raisa Gennadyevna stood up from the table.
“Of course you don’t want anything! If it were up to you, you’d just seat twenty people at one long table and be done with it.”
“Well, that’s exactly what we want.”
“And the relatives?”
“Which ones?”
Raisa Gennadyevna froze.
“What do you mean, which ones? Relatives.”
“Mom, do you have a list?”
“I do.”
“Read it.”
“So now we’re going to check everyone’s names by phone?”
Diana perked up.
“Yeah, let’s do it!”
Veronika turned toward the window because she couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
Raisa Gennadievna didn’t give in immediately, but eventually she brought the list.
The first fifteen names didn’t raise any questions.
Grandma, Diana’s aunt, her cousin with his wife, her godmother, and close family friends.
Then things got more complicated.
«The Kazantsevs.»
«Who are they?» Diana asked.
«You know Aunt Lyuda very well.»
«I know Aunt Lyuda. But who are the Kazantsevs?»
«That’s her daughter and her daughter’s husband.»
«What’s the daughter’s name?»
Raisa Gennadievna frowned.
«Sveta.»
«Aunt Lyuda’s daughter’s name is Oksana.»
Anton started coughing to hide a laugh.
The next names also came with mixed success.
By the time they got to the twenty-seventh person, who Diana couldn’t identify even with hints, Kirill chimed in from the background:
«Are these people coming to our wedding, or is Mom Raisa organizing a class reunion?»
«See!» Diana said right away. «Kirill is asking, too.»
«Very funny,» said Raisa Gennadievna dryly.
And that’s when they discovered that the groom didn’t even know about half the things already included in the wedding budget.
«What saxophonist?» he asked.
«To greet the guests,» Raisa Gennadievna explained.
«But why?»
«To make it beautiful.»
«Everything is already scheduled down to the minute from the registry office to the restaurant. Can I at least walk into the restaurant without a saxophone?»
Diana burst out laughing.
Then they got to discussing the photo zone.
«What sofa?» she asked.
«A beautiful one. They have it at the rental studio. I sent you a photo.»
«You sent me a sofa?»
«On Wednesday.»
«I thought you were picking one for your own room.»
Anton was no longer hiding his smile.
The last item up for discussion was the doves.
Kirill asked for a separate explanation.
After the explanation, he said:
«We’re definitely not doing the doves.»
«Why not?»
«I’m renting my suit. There’s a 15,000 ruble deposit.»
Veronika snorted with laughter.
Even Anton laughed.
Only Raisa Gennadievna sat there looking grim.
For her, this whole situation looked completely different.
Her daughter was the youngest. When Anton got married, the wedding was modest: he and Veronika were renovating their place at the time, and they insisted on a small restaurant. Raisa Gennadievna always felt like her son’s wedding was a little too ordinary.
Now she wanted to throw a celebration «for real.»
With big tables, flowers, a host, music, and everybody dressed up.
So she could show off the photos later.
So the relatives would say: «Now that’s a wedding!»
There was nothing terrible about that wish.
The problem started when the cost of that dream was split up among people who hadn’t even been asked.
Anton was silent for a long time.
Then he picked up a pen.
He crossed out on the page:
«Anton and Veronika — 280,000.»
And next to it he wrote:
«Gift — 60,000.»
Raisa Gennadievna looked at him like her son had just personally canceled the idea of marriage itself.
«So that’s how it is?»
«Yes.»
«So now we have to redo the whole plan over 60,000?»
«Mom, it’s not about the 60,000. It’s about the 280,000 you decided on your own.»
«I’m doing this for your sister!»
«My sister deserves the celebration that she wants.»
«Must be nice for you. That’s a convenient stance.»
«It’s a reasonable stance.»
Anton spoke calmly, and Veronika stayed out of it.
It was important for her that he was the one speaking now.
Because the problem wasn’t just with Raisa Gennadievna.
Anton himself shared the information about their savings with her.
He didn’t end the conversation when he realized where it was heading.
For several days, he simply hoped the situation would resolve itself.
If Veronika had started explaining to his mother why their money actually belonged to them, the argument would just have come up again a month later, just in a different form.
“And what about the guests?” Raisa Gennadyevna asked. “Are we just going to cut the guest list now?”
The phone was still lying on the table.
Suddenly, Diana’s voice came from the speaker:
“Yes!”
His mother closed her eyes.
“Do you even realize how this looks?”
“It looks great. Start with those twenty-seven people I didn’t recognize.”
“Those are our relatives!”
“Then keep the ones you recognize, and feel free to leave the bride out of the invitations.”
This time, it was Veronika who laughed.
Raisa Gennadyevna stood up.
“Do whatever you want. Just don’t say later that I didn’t warn you.”
“Mom,” Anton said.
She stopped in her tracks.
“We’re not refusing to help Diana. We’re giving her sixty thousand. If she needs something specific—help ordering a car, picking up the cake, help with the restaurant—we’ll help. But we’re paying for our own vacation, and we’re not going to cancel it.”
Raisa Gennadyevna glanced at the fridge, where her financial plan had been hanging just half an hour ago.
“Nobody knows how to throw a proper celebration anymore.”
“Maybe so,” Veronika agreed. “But a lot of people have learned how to manage their own money.”
As planned, her mother-in-law stayed the night with them.
There was no dramatic exit with a suitcase.
In the morning, she even had some syrniki and told Anton that their coffee had gotten ‘a little too sour.’
They just avoided the wedding topic until lunch.
And then, Diana called.
She had already discussed things with Kirill.
They went through all the numbers again themselves.
A restaurant for twenty-two people would cost about a hundred and sixty thousand, including service.
The photographer they really wanted charged forty-five thousand.
The cake would come to about fifteen thousand.
Raisa Gennadyevna really did buy her daughter a thirty-thousand-ruble dress—Diana chose a simple one without a three-meter train, which her mother first called ‘a nightgown,’ but admitted a week later was ‘very elegant.’
Kirill bought his own suit.
The couple reviewed all the other expenses as well.
Their combined two hundred and fifty thousand, plus a hundred thousand from Kirill’s parents, was more than enough for the wedding.
They even had some left over for unexpected costs.
Anton and Veronika’s sixty thousand—they decided not to use it for the banquet at all.
Diana said right away:
“We’d rather spend it on a trip after the wedding. At least then I’ll know my brother gave me the Baltic Sea, not just salad for a distant cousin.”
Raisa Gennadyevna still tried to add a host back into the program.
In the end, she agreed to just having the restaurant DJ.
The saxophonist quietly disappeared from the plans.
So did the photo zone with the couch.
Doves were scrapped for good after Kirill said he’d only agree to them if each dove personally gave the newlyweds five thousand.
A week before the wedding, one last dispute popped up.
One of the distant relatives suddenly called Raisa Gennadyevna, saying he’d ‘heard about the wedding’ and was absolutely delighted.
Anton Used to Say: ‘Well, Since She Knows, It Would Be Awkward Not to Invite Her’
But this time, he gave his mother a different answer:
«Mom, the list is closed. Diana decided on her guests herself.»
Veronika heard this and stayed silent.
But she remembered.
That meant more than any conversation at the kitchen table.
The wedding turned out completely different from what Raisa Gennadievna had initially envisioned.
And completely normal.
Twenty-two guests gathered around a few joined tables. Nobody had to shout over the host. Diana had time to talk with almost everyone she invited.
The photographer worked for four hours and caught moments where people looked like themselves, not like extras in a bank ad.
Kirill made a short toast and didn’t encounter a single dove.
At first, Raisa Gennadievna walked around the hall with the look of someone who’d been entrusted with too tiny a country.
By the middle of the evening, she warmed up.
And when she saw her daughter was truly happy, she even stopped rearranging the seating.
Just as she promised, Raisa Gennadievna put twenty thousand into an envelope for her daughter—after the wedding, as a real gift, not as a line in someone else’s budget.
The day after the wedding, Diana and Kirill left for Kaliningrad.
The sixty thousand from her brother and Veronika was spent exactly on that trip.
Anton transferred it to his sister in the morning with the note:
«For whatever you want.»
Diana replied with a photo of two suitcases and the message:
«No doves this time.»
That fall, it was Anton and Veronika’s turn.
Their savings just stayed right in their account.
By vacation time, they had just over three hundred thousand: in two months, they’d added more to the fund.
They spent three weeks exactly how they’d planned.
Kazan, Yoshkar-Ola, Nizhny Novgorod, Vladimir.
No rushing.
For the first time in years, Anton turned off work notifications after six.
In a restaurant in Kazan, Veronika snapped a photo of him with a plate of echpochmaks and sent it to Diana.
She replied:
«I can only imagine what kind of banquet you could throw with that kind of money.»
Just a minute later, another message came:
«Mom would be so proud of me.»
Raisa Gennadievna didn’t forget the subject either.
Sometimes, at the family table, she’d recall:
«Of course, if we’d had three hundred thousand more in the budget, we could have done things in style.»
Veronika never argued with her.
«Of course,» she’d agree. «When it’s someone else’s three hundred thousand, you really can do a lot in style.»
After that, Anton would usually get very focused on his food.
One day, Raisa Gennadievna couldn’t help herself:
«Are you going to remember this for the rest of your life?»
Veronika thought for a moment.
«No. Only when you bring up that wedding that could have been held on our money.»
Anton snorted into his cup.
Raisa Gennadievna looked first at her daughter-in-law, then at her son.
And unexpectedly burst out laughing herself.
From then on, the wedding cost breakdown never reappeared on the fridge.
And if Raisa Gennadievna ever made plans for family celebrations, the first line was no longer the restaurant or the number of guests.
She’d start by asking:
— Okay. So, how much is everyone planning to spend?
Veronika was completely fine with this arrangement.
