Ksenia slowly ran her hand over the old wallpaper. She had spent her childhood in this apartment—her grandmother often invited her over, taught her to cook, told stories from her life. Now these walls held only memories—Grandma had passed away six months ago.
“Still sitting in this wreck?” Mikhail’s voice pulled Ksenia from her thoughts.
“Don’t call Grandma’s apartment that,” Ksenia replied softly.
“What else would I call it?” Mikhail glanced around the room carelessly. “It hasn’t been renovated in a hundred years, the furniture’s old. We need to do something about it.”
Ksenia tensed. Lately her husband had been bringing up the apartment more and more often.
“Do what exactly?”
“What do you mean, what?” Mikhail flopped into an old armchair. “Sell it! The neighborhood’s good, we’ll get a good price.”
“I’m not going to sell my grandmother’s apartment,” Ksenia said firmly.
“Oh, drop the sentimentality!” Mikhail waved her off. “I’ve got my eye on a great car—a BMW X6. It would cost about the same as this place.”
Ksenia froze, not believing her ears.
“So you want me to sell my grandmother’s legacy for your car?”
“So what if I do?” Mikhail shrugged. “It’s an awesome car! Just imagine how we’ll look in it.”
“Misha,” Ksenia tried to keep her voice calm, “this apartment isn’t just real estate to me. It’s a memory of my grandmother.”
“Memory, memory,” Mikhail mimicked her. “What about the living, huh? I’m doing this for us! With a car like that I wouldn’t be ashamed to drive clients, and it’d be convenient for trips out of town.”
“For us?” Ksenia gave a bitter smile. “Or for yourself? You didn’t even ask what I want.”
Mikhail frowned.
“What’s there to ask? I’m the husband, I decide!”
“Oh really?” Ksenia crossed her arms. “And when did you become the manager of my inheritance?”
“Since we got married!” Mikhail shot back. “In a family everything should be shared.”
“Everything—but not everything,” Ksenia shook her head. “I got this apartment from my grandmother. I’ll be the one to decide what to do with it.”
Mikhail jumped up from the chair.
“What kind of wife are you? A normal wife would’ve agreed long ago!”
“Agreed to what? To swap property for a car?” Ksenia looked him straight in the eyes. “A car that’ll be scrap metal in five years?”
“You don’t understand business!” Mikhail began pacing the room. “I need a representative vehicle! How am I supposed to drive clients around in my old clunker?”
“How about working more?” Ksenia asked quietly. “Have you tried earning the money for a car?”
Mikhail’s face flushed crimson.
“I work like a dog!”
“As a manager at a car dealership?” Ksenia clarified. “With a salary that barely covers groceries?”
“You… you…” Mikhail was choking with indignation. “I’m just getting started! I have big plans!”
“And all those plans rely on selling my apartment?” Ksenia shook her head.
Mikhail abruptly changed tactics. He walked up to Ksenia and put his arm around her shoulders.
“Sweetheart, try to understand! This is our chance! We’ll buy the car, I’ll start growing the business. In a year it’ll all pay off!”
Ksenia gently slipped out of his embrace.
“No, Misha. I’m not selling the apartment.”
“Why are you so stubborn!” Mikhail flared up again. “It’s just an apartment! Look at the prospects!”
“Prospects?” Ksenia smirked. “Like your friend Seryozha? He sold his apartment for a business too. Where is he now?”
Mikhail turned away. His friend’s story was a sore subject—Sergey really had sold his apartment, invested in some project, and lost everything.
“It’ll be different for me!” Mikhail said stubbornly. “I’ve calculated everything!”
“What exactly did you calculate?” Ksenia asked. “Show me the business plan.”
Mikhail hesitated.
“What business plan? It’s simple—we buy the car, I start driving clients…”
“That’s it?” Ksenia shook her head in disbelief. “That’s your whole plan?”
“What else do you need?” Mikhail bristled. “You think I can’t handle it? You don’t believe in me?”
“It’s not about belief,” Ksenia replied wearily. “It’s that you want to risk my inheritance on a half-baked venture.”
The next few days turned into a nightmare. Mikhail talked about the car constantly, showed her photos, raved about the prospects. And whenever Ksenia objected, he threw tantrums.
“You’re selfish!” Mikhail shouted. “You only think about yourself! I’m the one taking care of our future!”
One evening Ksenia’s friend Marina dropped by.
“You’ve been so on edge lately,” her friend noted. “Did something happen?”
Ksenia told her about the apartment.
“And you’re keeping quiet?” Marina burst out. “Ksyusha, that’s pure manipulation! He didn’t even ask your opinion!”
“I tried to explain,” Ksenia sighed. “But Misha won’t listen. Only his opinion exists.”
“Remember Katya?” Marina asked suddenly. “She sold her apartment for her husband’s business too. Now she’s renting a studio with two kids.”
Ksenia nodded. Katya’s story was telling—her husband had convinced her to sell the apartment, invested the money in some project and lost it. Then he just left for another woman.
That evening the conversation with Mikhail circled back to the apartment again.
“I’ve thought it all through!” her husband declared. “We’ll take out a loan to grow the business and use the apartment as collateral.”
“No,” Ksenia answered firmly.
“Why are you so stubborn?” Mikhail exploded. “I’m doing this for us!”
“For us?” Ksenia gave a bitter smile. “Or for yourself? Have you ever once asked what I want?”
“And what do you want?” Mikhail narrowed his eyes. “To sit in an old apartment and reminisce about your granny?”
The words hit Ksenia like a blow.
“Don’t you dare talk like that about my grandmother’s apartment!”
“I’ll say whatever I think is right!” Mikhail barked. “I’m the husband, I decide!”
The next day Mikhail came home unusually excited.
“That’s it, honey! I found a buyer for the apartment!”
Ksenia froze with a cup in her hands.
“What did you do?”
“I found a buyer!” Mikhail repeated happily. “Great people, ready to pay good money. They’ll come see it tomorrow!”
The cup crashed to the floor.
“Without my consent?” Ksenia’s voice trembled with fury. “You went looking for buyers for my apartment?”
“So what if I did—yours, mine, what’s the difference?” Mikhail waved it off. “We’re a family! I’m the husband, I decide!”
“Exactly—mine!” Ksenia stepped right up to him. “My apartment, my inheritance! And I alone decide what happens to it! Not you.”
Mikhail slammed his fist on the table.
“Enough! I’m tired of your obstinacy! It’ll be done my way!”
“No, Misha,” Ksenia said quietly but firmly. “It won’t. This apartment is not for sale.”
“Oh, quit with the ‘my apartment, my inheritance’!” Mikhail mocked. “In a family everything should be shared! I’m the head of the family, I—”
“The head?” Ksenia cut him off. “What have you done to become the head? Where are your achievements? Where’s the property you’ve earned?”
Mikhail began pacing the room.
“You don’t understand! This is a chance! The only chance to start my own business!”
“At my expense?” Ksenia asked. “Risking my inheritance?”
“Stop acting like a child!” Mikhail exploded. “This is business! You have to take risks!”
“Then risk your own,” Ksenia snapped. “Leave my apartment alone.”
Mikhail grabbed his phone.
“That’s it, enough! I’m calling the buyers right now! Let them come and see the apartment!”
“Go ahead and try,” Ksenia said quietly.
“What? What are you going to do to me?” Mikhail grinned triumphantly, dialing.
“Nothing,” Ksenia answered calmly. “I’ll just file for divorce.”
Mikhail froze with the phone in his hand.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me,” Ksenia folded her arms. “I don’t want to live with someone who doesn’t respect my rights.”
Mikhail lowered the phone.
“You… you’re serious?”
“More than serious,” Ksenia nodded. “I’m tired, Misha. Tired of your attempts to control my property, your disrespect, your reckless schemes.”
Mikhail sank onto the couch.
“But how? We’re a family… I thought…”
“That’s right—you thought,” Ksenia interrupted. “Only about yourself. And I was just a source of funding for your fantasies.”
The next morning Ksenia went to see a lawyer. Yelena Pavlovna, an experienced family law specialist, listened carefully to her story.
“It’s very simple,” Yelena Pavlovna said after reviewing the documents. “You received the apartment as an inheritance. Your husband has no rights to it.”
When Ksenia returned home, she found Mikhail with his mother—Nina Fedorovna.
“Dear child!” her mother-in-law threw up her hands. “How could you? Ruining a family over some old apartment!”
“Not over the apartment,” Ksenia replied calmly. “Over disrespect and attempts to manipulate me.”
“What manipulation?” Nina Fedorovna protested. “My son is thinking about your future! And you’re being stubborn!”
“Mom’s right,” Mikhail chimed in. “I wanted it all for us…”
“For us?” Ksenia smiled faintly. “Did you ask me? Or did you just decide you had the right to dispose of my inheritance? You even called your mother to help pressure me. But my decision stands.”
That evening Marina called.
“Well, how are you holding up?”
“I’m holding up,” Ksenia sighed. “You know, I even feel lighter. Like a weight fell off my shoulders after I said everything out loud.”
“Come stay with me,” her friend offered. “You shouldn’t be under the same roof with him right now.”
The divorce process went relatively quickly. At first Mikhail resisted, but then he realized it was useless. All the paperwork for the apartment was in order; it was hers by right.
“You can’t do this to me!” Mikhail shouted after the hearing. “I loved you!”
“No, Misha,” Ksenia shook her head. “You loved the opportunities I gave you. Not me.”
A month later Ksenia moved back into her grandmother’s apartment. She ran her hand over the old wallpaper—these walls held so many memories.
“Thank you, Grandma,” Ksenia whispered. “You left me not only an apartment but also a lesson. You taught me to value myself and my independence.”
Little by little, life fell into place. Ksenia started renovating the apartment, turning it into a cozy, modern home while preserving details that reminded her of her grandmother.
One day at the mall Ksenia ran into Mikhail. Her ex-husband looked worn out.
“How are you?” Mikhail asked.
“Good,” Ksenia answered honestly. “And you? Did you buy your BMW?”
Mikhail looked away.
“No… It didn’t work out.”
“That’s a shame,” Ksenia said without a trace of sarcasm. “I hope you’ve realized you can’t build a future on someone else’s property.”
That evening, sitting in her refreshed apartment, Ksenia leafed through old photos. There they were baking pies together, celebrating New Year…
“You were right, Grandma,” she whispered. “You can’t let others decide your fate. Even if those others are the people closest to you.”
The next day Marina came by.
“Wow!” her friend exclaimed, looking around. “What a transformation! And you’ve changed too.”
“Really?” Ksenia smiled.
“Of course! You’re more confident, calmer. It’s like you’ve blossomed.”
Ksenia walked to the window. A whole life lay ahead—her life, without anyone else’s orders or manipulation. And that freedom was the most precious inheritance her grandmother had left her.
