The notification vibrated against my hip while I stood at the checkout counter, my phone buzzing insistently through my coat pocket. I glanced at the screen without really focusing, my mind still running calculations about delivery dates and installation fees. “Transaction declined.
Insufficient funds.”
I blinked at the message, confusion washing over me. That couldn’t be right. I’d checked the balance that morning—over fifty thousand rubles from my salary deposit just two days ago.
There had to be some kind of system error. “Miss, are you paying or not?” The cashier’s voice carried barely concealed irritation, her fingers already hovering over the void transaction button. “Just one moment, please,” I said, fumbling through my purse for my backup card, the one I used less frequently for online purchases.
My fingers were suddenly clumsy as I extracted it and tapped it against the terminal. The device responded with that stubborn little beep that every shopper dreads. “Transaction declined.”
Behind me in line, people sighed with theatrical exasperation.
A woman muttered something about people wasting everyone’s time. The queue had grown substantially—at least eight people now, all radiating impatience. The sales consultant from the appliance section, who’d spent nearly forty minutes walking me through features and energy ratings, explaining why this particular washing machine was worth the investment, quietly drifted away toward other customers.
My hands turned cold despite the overheated store. I stepped out of line, my face burning with humiliation, and pressed my phone to my ear. The ringing seemed to stretch endlessly before Victor finally answered.
“Yes?” His voice was calm, almost clinical in its detachment. “Vitya, something’s wrong with my cards. Both of them aren’t working.
I’m at the appliance store right now—I was literally about to pay for the washing machine we discussed…”
“I know,” he said with that same measured tone. “I blocked your card. I’m the head of this household, Marina, so I decide what we purchase.”
Silence crashed over me like a physical wave.
I didn’t comprehend immediately what I’d just heard. The words scattered into separate sounds, refusing to assemble themselves into coherent meaning. My brain simply rejected the information as impossible.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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