— “I evicted the tenants from your apartment; my sister will live there,” came the husband’s words like thunder out of a clear sky.
Alina froze, her eyes wide. The news crashed over her like a cold shower.
— “What? How is that possible? Are you insane?— she still couldn’t believe the reality of what was happening. “Why didn’t you consult with me? This is my apartment!”
Denis shrugged, his entire demeanor exuding complete calm and indifference to his wife’s reaction:
— “So what? We’re married, so everything is shared. My sister needs help—she was left on the street with her children, lost her job. She can’t be sleeping at the station.”
— “And why didn’t you send her to your mother’s? Let her go to her parents!” Alina persisted, feeling her anger boil over. “What the hell? You’re acting on your own with MY apartment! By the way, there were tenants there—I was counting on that money!”
“The tenants will wait—they’re used to it,” Denis dismissed. “And Svetka is my sister, my own blood. I have to help her. Besides, her children are young. Do you want your nephews roaming the streets?”
Alina choked on such insolence. And now he was even portraying himself as the victim—how dare he! And the fact that they planned to live off that rental income—does that not matter? Husband, my foot!
— “No, you’re the one who’s sick!” she exploded, clenching her fists. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? Now we’re completely penniless! How are we supposed to live?”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Denis grimaced. “We won’t become destitute. I’m not a slacker—I’ll find a second job. And my sister will help; she’s not a freeloader, she has a conscience.”
— “Oh, she has a conscience? Well, of course!” Alina said sardonically. “And you, apparently, don’t have one? If you can shamelessly kick people out onto the streets and deprive us of our means to live! How do you even imagine this working? Is she going to live there for free?”
— “Even if she does live there for free!” Denis suddenly bellowed, forcefully punching the table. Alina recoiled. “I said it—my sister will live in the apartment, period! This is not up for discussion! Am I the master of this house or what?”
Alina bit her lip, fighting back tears of hurt and helplessness. Of course, she couldn’t argue—there was a master now, indeed! He wouldn’t let his wife utter a word. And the fact that, with a single stroke of his pen, he condemned them to poverty—well, that was something to be endured!
At that moment, Svetlana burst into the room, rustling with bags, stumbling in—a skinny, emaciated woman with distinctly streaked gray hair in her tangled locks. Behind her, two little boys, about five or seven years old, followed fearfully.
— “Oh, did I disturb you?” Svetlana smiled artificially, scanning the living room. There was a distinctly condescending mockery in her voice. “We just brought these little things. Denis said you wouldn’t mind.”
Anger darkened Alina’s eyes. They had arrived and didn’t even bother to say hello—like royalty! And now they were mocking her; it was infuriating. Her blood boiled with indignation, but she kept her composure.
“Hello, Sveta. Come in, make yourself at home,” Alina said through gritted teeth and retreated to the bedroom. She collapsed on the bed, giving in to tears. Sobbing, she clutched a pillow, choking on a silent cry of despair.
When the door opened again, Alina turned sharply. Standing in the doorway was Denis—grim, unyielding. For several long seconds he glared at his wife with a piercing look, then flatly declared:
— “Listen, I advise you not to throw a tantrum. My sister and her children will live in your apartment, and that’s not up for discussion. I promised her, and I won’t take back my word. So stop your petulance and be grateful you have such a caring husband.”
Alina sprang up, storming toward him, trembling with anger:
— “Caring? You’re just a bastard! How could you act so treacherously with me? You don’t care about me at all—you disregard my wishes! You don’t care what I think or feel. The only thing that matters to you is that your sister is taken care of!”
“Shut your mouth!” Denis roared, roughly grabbing his wife by the shoulders and shaking her. “Svetka is my sister, and I will take care of her, like it or not! And if you keep causing trouble, you’ll be following your beloved tenants. I’m serious.”
With those words, he shoved Alina and left, slamming the door forcefully. Alina collapsed onto the bed, covering her head with her hands. Her thoughts raced wildly, refusing to form anything coherent. How could he—how dare he treat her like this? Was she nothing to him? Of course not—a wife was expendable, while his sister got all the best.
All night, Alina couldn’t close her eyes, tossing and turning, sobbing intermittently. Denis didn’t even try to comfort her; he demonstratively slept on the very edge of the bed. In the early morning, as dawn barely broke, Alina rose and tiptoed to the kitchen. She managed to prepare a simple breakfast, sat by the window, and stirred her lukewarm coffee listlessly.
A door slammed; footsteps were heard. A sleepy, disheveled Svetlana wandered into the kitchen, yawning widely.
— “Oh, good morning!” she chirped cheerily, plopping onto a chair. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving!”
Alina slowly turned, staring blankly at her sister-in-law. Is she mocking me? She just barged into my own home, upended the household, and now expects breakfast to be served?
“For breakfast? You tell me what’s for breakfast,” Alina replied icily. “This is now your apartment. I’m no one here—I don’t even have the right to say a word. So arrange things as you please. Set up a buffet if you want.”
Svetlana theatrically flung her hands:
— “What’s with you? I’m here out of pure, familial goodwill. I thought we were one family now. And you’re immediately so hostile.”
“Family?” Alina laughed hysterically, feeling her temples pulse with anger. “Oh, family! So that means it’s your family, right? And I’m just an accessory? A spare option? You’re unbelievable! You barged in, kicked me out of my own apartment, and now you’re complaining?”
“Get lost!” Svetlana shrieked, jumping up. In her eyes, unmasked malice flared. “I know Denis like the back of my hand—he’d bite someone’s throat for me! So sit down and keep quiet, or you’ll be out on the street like the tenants. I’m the mistress here, got it?”
At that moment, Denis entered the kitchen. He glanced sullenly at his sister and his pale, furious wife. Rubbing his nose wearily, he said:
— “Why are you both making such a fuss so early in the morning? My head is splitting from your screaming.”
Alina choked, overwhelmed with indignation. No, of course, now he’s upset too! It’s all his fault, and now—look, his head hurts too!
— “Go to hell, both of you!” she spat, pushing her husband aside and storming out of the kitchen.
In the hallway, she nearly knocked over the frightened nephews, who scurried away in alarm. Alina paid them no mind. She hastily put on her jacket, grabbed her bag, and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
The dazzling rays of the sun stung her eyes, but offered no relief. Alina bit her lip furiously, holding back the oncoming sobs. My God, why? What did I do to deserve my husband and his kin treating me like this? After all these years of marriage, did I not deserve at least a shred of respect—a voice?
Apparently, I did not. For Denis, his kin always comes first. And I, Alina, am nothing more than a convenient accessory. Don’t like it? Get out of your own apartment and make room for your precious little sister! And who cares about the fact that a wife might have her own plans, desires, and dreams?
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Alina trudged down the street, mechanically shuffling her feet. Tears blurred her vision, but she stubbornly kept moving, away from the home that had suddenly become alien and hostile. Her heart shattered with pain and betrayal. She wanted to scream, to cry out loud.
But instead, Alina quietly sniffled, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She knew—nobody cared about her. Her husband had never been one for sentiment; he always considered his own opinion the only one that mattered. And now even more so—he had to provide for his sister, while his wife? Who cared about her? She’d manage somehow.
“Scumbag, Denis,” Alina thought bitterly, quickening her pace. “What kind of scumbag are you? Why did you do this to me? Do I really mean so little to you?”
But she knew she wouldn’t get any answers. She also knew she wouldn’t be returning to the apartment. It wasn’t her place to interfere with the new mistress settling into what was legally hers. Let her enjoy it, let her reign.
And she, Alina, would manage somehow. One must get used to it. After all, as they say—if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. And the heavens indeed laughed at her—sending her such a “caring” husband and his remarkable kin.
It seemed that fate was truly against her—she was destined to endure and submit. To be a convenient, compliant wife—and to remain silent. And when it came to her own dreams and desires—better not even mention them. They’d never be appreciated; they’d be trampled into the dirt.
Alina wandered the streets, not paying attention to where she was going, until she was utterly exhausted. Sitting on a bench in a small park, she took out her phone and dialed the number of her best friend, Zhenya.
— “Zhenya, hi,” Alina mumbled weakly into the phone. “Can I crash at your place for a couple of days? There’s trouble at home—Denis has completely lost it.”
Zhenya immediately grew alert upon hearing her trembling voice:
— “Of course, Alinka, come over. What happened? Another fight?”
Alina smiled bitterly:
— “Not just a fight. He settled his sister in my apartment and kicked me out like a stray kitten. Can you imagine—he didn’t even consult with me!”
Zhenya gasped, throwing her hands up:
— “What a jerk! Come over quickly. We’ll talk it out and figure something out. We’ll manage, my friend.”
— “Thank you, Zhenya. Really, thank you,” Alina sniffled, struggling to hold back her tears. “I’m coming right away.”
When she finally reached Zhenya’s place, Alina collapsed on the couch and burst into tears. Her friend listened to her incoherent account, gesturing wildly and clicking her tongue in disapproval.
— “What a bastard!” Zhenya exclaimed, once Alina fell silent. “I mean, really! Unbelievable! And you—did you say nothing? Oh, you pushover!”
— “What could I do?” Alina snapped. “He was as stubborn as a mule—and nothing would change! ‘I said it, and that’s final!’ How could I stand up to him?”
Zhenya squinted thoughtfully, tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair.
— “Hold on a minute. This is your apartment, isn’t it? Your premarital property—he has no claim to it. Did you rent it out? Where did the money go, to some joint account?”
— “Well, yes,” Alina sighed. “But what difference does it make now…”
— “All the more!” Zhenya interrupted. “You’re the owner; you have rights. And him—he’s nothing. Listen to me: go file for divorce tomorrow. Get him and his sister evicted from the apartment through the courts. Let them go down in flames if they think they’re so clever.”
— “What? Are you out of your mind?” Alina was stunned. “Divorce? We’ve been together for seven years—I thought we were in love…”
— “Oh, come on! Love, my foot!” Zhenya scoffed. “Love he has—at least for his gorgeous sister. And you’re just an add-on. Wake up, Alinka! You can’t stand this any longer! He’s got you now, and he won’t change. Kick him out while you can. Protect your property, or he’ll take everything and leave you with nothing.”
Zhenya’s words hit Alina like a slap. Suddenly, she realized her friend was right. How long could she continue to be so submissive, so compliant? If she tolerated this now, there would be no life for her later. It was time to take her life into her own hands. After all, she hadn’t broken her vow of fidelity.
In the morning, after barely managing to compose herself, Alina went to the registry office. She filed for divorce, obtained the papers to evict her husband and his sister from the apartment. Her heart bled, but there was no turning back.
Denis screamed and raged, threatening with every force imaginable. Alina just waved him off—“It’s settled! You’ve got the wrong person!”
— “Pack your things and get out!” she declared, thrusting the documents into his face. “I can’t stand to see you! Get lost, you ungrateful wretch!”
Svetlana screeched like a vulture and lunged at Alina with clenched fists. Alina dodged and pushed the enraged sister-in-law away:
— “Keep your hands to yourself! I do what I want in my apartment! And you both get out—now!”
For the last time, Denis shot his wife a look full of hatred and said:
— “You’ll regret this. You’ll crawl back, begging for forgiveness. But it’ll be too late.”
— “You won’t get the chance,” Alina snapped. “I’ve had enough—I’m done playing the obedient wife. It’s time I thought of myself. Now, get out.”
A couple of days later, the former in-laws vacated the apartment. For the first time in a long while, Alina breathed deeply. It was going to be alright—we’ll manage. A new life would begin, free from lies and betrayal.
Of course, it was unimaginably painful and hurtful. Alina blamed herself for her naivety, for letting her husband treat her this way. But she refused to give in. After all, she was still young—her whole life lay ahead. And she would live it the way she wanted. On her own. Without orders or control.
Six months later, the divorce was finalized. Alina removed her wedding ring, put away every reminder of the failed marriage. She had to move on. Her heart now held only pain and disappointment, but that, she knew, would eventually pass.
The most important thing was that she rediscovered herself. She had managed to stand up for her dignity, not allowing her tyrannical husband to completely break her spirit. And that was a small, yet significant, victory.
A new life awaited her—a challenging one, full of obstacles. But Alina knew she would manage. Because now she was strong. Because she believed in herself. And she would never again let anyone decide for her.
Life goes on. And there will be room for both happiness and love. It definitely will.
You just have to believe. And never give up.
