“What dinner?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did you give me money for it? No! Then why should I be responsible?”
Levan’s face flushed as he felt his anger rising. “So what am I supposed to do now? Walk around hungry?”
“Of course not,” Annabeth replied calmly. “You can go to the store, buy groceries, and cook. Or you can order something. You have money, right?”
“Is this some kind of strike?” he finally asked, his voice rising with frustration. “Are you refusing to fulfill your wifely duties?”
Annabeth’s patience snapped. She was fed up with everything. “I’m tired of being the cash cow of this family! Why do I have to carry everything alone?” Levan slammed his briefcase on the table and pointed at the new kitchen robot. “Did you buy something again?”
Annabeth looked at him in shock. It was so unexpected that she was left speechless. Dinner was almost ready, the apartment was clean, the laundry was done — everything was in order, just like any other day after work.
“Leva, I’ve wanted this for a long time,” she said quietly. “It was on sale, and I used my salary…”
“Your salary!” he interrupted, pacing around the kitchen. “And what’s left of it? Chump change! Who pays the rent? Me! Who pays for the car? Me! Who covers all the big expenses? Me!”
Annabeth turned off the stove and wiped her hands on her apron. The steam from the pot filled the kitchen with pleasant aromas, but her appetite had vanished.
“But I work too,” she said quietly. “Full-time, by the way. And with my salary, we buy food. And I also cook, clean, do the laundry…”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a saint,” Levan mumbled, slamming the cupboard door as he poured water into a cup. “You know what? I’m fed up. From now on, everything will be fair. We’ll split everything fifty-fifty since you live so easily off my back.”
“What do you mean?” Annabeth asked, crossing her arms.
“Exactly what I said. If we’re modern and equal, then we split fifty-fifty. We’ll share the bills, the phone, all common expenses. That’s fair — not just me carrying it all!”
Annabeth wanted to retort, but she knew it was useless. He wasn’t interested in fairness, but control. So she sighed and replied, “Fine, Levan. You want fairness, fifty-fifty, then that’s how it will be.”
The next morning, Annabeth woke up before the alarm. Levan was still asleep, turned away. The conversation from the night before spun in her mind. She quietly got out of bed and went to the kitchen.
In their four years of marriage, they had somehow reached a division of responsibilities that now seemed blatantly unfair. Yes, Levan earned more. Yes, in the first year of their relationship, when she was still a student, it made sense for him to support her financially while she took care of the home. But Annabeth had started working too! First part-time, then full-time. Yet, household chores remained entirely her responsibility.
She opened her laptop and began checking bank statements. Salary, bills, groceries, daily expenses… Almost everything she earned went into the family budget. But her contribution? The cooked meals, the washed clothes, the cleaning — did they not count at all?
Sipping her tea, she remembered their first date, smiling sadly. Levan had courted her. He called her his queen, promising he would do anything for her. And now? “The cash cow”? How quickly romance turns into accounting for some men.
Later, Levan was at his desk, talking to his colleague, Irish.
“And you know what, Irish, I told her last night — that’s it. We’ll live like all modern families — fifty-fifty,” Levan said, leaning back in his chair, satisfied.
Irish looked at him curiously. “And how did she react?”
“You won’t believe it — she agreed!” Levan smiled, full of satisfaction. “Right from the start, no argument.”
“Seriously?” Irish raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”
Levan nodded. “It seems she finally realized I was right. What’s so wrong with fairness?”
“Everyone has their own definition of fairness,” Irish replied thoughtfully. “My aunt always says: ‘Be careful what you wish for, as it might come true.’”
Levan frowned, feeling a bit uneasy. “What do you mean?”
Irish smiled slyly. “I have no idea, but it sounds wise, doesn’t it?”
Levan laughed, brushing off the strange feeling he had. Everything would be fine. Annabeth was a rational woman.
Meanwhile, Annabeth was in a store, looking at the shelves and carefully analyzing the price tags. Before, she would have filled a cart with food for the whole family — supplies for a week. Today, her small basket contained only yogurt, cheese, bread, and a chicken breast. She hadn’t even looked at Levan’s favorite fish fillet.
The evening passed unusually quietly. At home, Annabeth quickly cooked a chicken breast in the oven with vegetables, had dinner, washed the dishes, started a load of laundry, and settled comfortably on the couch with her tablet. She had three series to watch that she had been postponing due to lack of time. Her phone vibrated with a message from Levan: “I’ll be home in half an hour. What do we have for dinner?”
Annabeth smiled and set her phone aside without replying.
The key turned in the lock, and Levan entered the apartment, tired after a long day at work. He headed straight for the kitchen, expecting the familiar aroma of dinner.
“Anyut, I’m home!” he called, taking off his coat.
No response. He entered the kitchen, but it was empty and clean, with no sign of food. He opened the fridge — the shelves were half-empty: yogurt, cheese, and a few vegetables.
“Annabeth!” he shouted, walking toward the living room.
His wife was sitting on the couch, absorbed in something on her tablet, with headphones in her ears. When she saw him, she took one out.
“Oh, hi. You’re home already?”
“Yes, I’m home. And dinner?”
Levan looked around as if the food might be hiding in the living room.
Annabeth looked at him slightly surprised. “What dinner?” she asked. “Did you give me money for it? No! Then what’s the problem?”
Levan froze, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Are you serious?” His voice rose, almost shouting. “I come home after a hard day, and you didn’t even cook?”
“You didn’t give me money for your share of dinner,” Annabeth replied calmly, taking out the second headphone. “You said yesterday: fifty-fifty. I bought food for myself, with my money. I cooked for myself, I ate. Just as we agreed.”
“But…” Levan was at a loss. “That’s not what I meant! I was referring to the common expenses…”
“Exactly,” Annabeth said, shrugging. “Common expenses — fifty-fifty. And dinner is necessary for both of us, so I bought for myself and cooked for myself.”
“And now what, do I have to starve?” Levan asked, feeling his anger rising.
“Of course not,” Annabeth replied calmly. “You can go to the store, buy groceries, and cook. Or you can order something. You have money, right?”
Levan looked at her dazed, feeling his mind spinning. “Is this a strike?” he finally asked. “Are you refusing to fulfill your wifely duties?”
Annabeth slowly set her tablet aside and turned to her husband. “Wifely duties?” she repeated, her voice turning cold. “I’ve fulfilled them diligently until yesterday. But yesterday you proposed splitting fifty-fifty, and then I wondered: why are you being so unfair to me?”
“Me?!” Levan was left breathless. “I…”
“Yes, you,” Annabeth interrupted him. “Until now, with your money, I paid the big bills, and with mine, I bought food and other things. And I also cooked, cleaned, and did the laundry. Every evening after work. And on weekends — deep cleaning, cooking for several days to free up time. Do you remember last Sunday when I spent three hours in the kitchen and another three hours cleaning? That’s six hours of work, almost a whole day. On my day off.”
Levan remained silent, trying to process everything he had heard.
“And now you say fifty-fifty,” Annabeth continued. “Very well. But let it truly be fifty-fifty. Not just in money, but also in household chores. Cooking — take turns or each for himself. Cleaning — we share it. Laundry — each does their own. How does that sound?”
Levan shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.
“Look, I… I don’t even know how to start the washing machine…”
“I’ll show you,” Annabeth smiled. “It’s not hard.”
“And anyway, if you’re not cooking and cleaning anymore, then why should I keep you?” Levan blurted out, immediately regretting the words.
Annabeth looked at him long, without blinking. Then she slowly got up from the couch.
“And supporting the family is a man’s duty,” she said quietly. “But I never asked you ‘why should I keep you,’ even though you’ve never been great at it, since I’ve had to work too. And now, you’re giving up your duty as a man.” She tilted her head. “But you see, I don’t ask that question. Because we are a family. At least, that’s what I thought.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. Levan looked at the floor, feeling his “justified” anger turning into shame. Annabeth stood tall, shoulders back, waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I overreacted. Let’s go back to how it was before, okay?”
He expected Annabeth to be happy, to hug him and go prepare dinner. But she just shook her head.
“Why would I do that?” she asked sincerely. “I would have cooked for you, ironed your shirts, washed the dishes. But now, I’ve already eaten, I’ve done everything, and I wanted to watch a new episode. In fact, it’s even more comfortable for me this way.”
With those words, she turned back to the couch, put her headphones back on, and resumed the series, leaving Levan standing there, mouth agape.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or for how characters are portrayed and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
