Olga was rearranging the photos on the shelf, admiring the sunbeams streaming through the windows of their two-room apartment. Two and a half years ago her parents had given their daughter this place as a wedding present—a cozy home in a quiet part of the city. Her mother had said then, “May you have a solid home, dear.” Her father hugged Olga without a word, but his eyes said plenty—the parents wanted to be sure of their only daughter’s future.
“Olga, are you home?” Viktor’s voice sounded from the entryway that evening.
“In the kitchen,” Olga answered, putting the kettle on.
Viktor came into the kitchen, tossed his bag onto a chair, and rubbed his face wearily. Two and a half years of marriage had taught Olga to read her husband’s mood from the smallest gestures. He was clearly preoccupied.
“How’s everything?” Olga asked as she poured tea into their favorite mugs.
“Fine,” Viktor grunted without looking up. “Listen, did Irina call today?”
Olga tensed. Her husband’s sister rarely called just to chat. Irina usually appeared in their lives when there was something to discuss—or to push along.
“No, she didn’t. Why?”
“Oh, just curious,” Viktor took a big sip of tea. “She stopped by Mom’s yesterday. They were talking about us.”
Olga sat down across from Viktor, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten inside her. In two and a half years of family life, she had come to know her husband’s relatives. His mother, Lyudmila Sergeyevna, was a domineering woman accustomed to controlling her son’s life. Irina, Viktor’s younger sister, was blunt and never hesitated to voice her opinions on any subject.
“And what were they talking about?” Olga asked carefully.
Viktor hesitated, turning the mug in his hands.
“Well… about our apartment. About how we live.”
Olga felt her shoulders tighten. The topic of the apartment had been a sore spot for Viktor since the beginning of their marriage. He could never quite accept that they were living in a place gifted to his wife by her parents. It pricked his masculine pride, even though Olga had never reproached him or reminded him whose property it was.
“And what exactly worries them?” Olga tried to keep her voice even.
“Irina said…” Viktor finally lifted his eyes, “that since the apartment was given for the wedding, it’s marital property. And that we could be using it more sensibly.”
Olga slowly set her mug on the table. Her sister-in-law’s words didn’t surprise her—Irina had hinted more than once that Olga was too attached to her parents’ gift.
“What does she mean by ‘more sensibly’?” Olga asked quietly.
“Well, for example, we could sell it and invest the money in some joint venture,” Viktor said, not looking at his wife. “Irina thinks that would benefit everyone.”
Olga kept silent, but something clenched inside her. She understood perfectly well what her husband’s relatives were driving at. The apartment was worth a good sum, and that money drew greedy eyes.
“Olga, what do you think?” Viktor asked cautiously.
“I think it’s my gift from my parents,” Olga answered, looking him straight in the eye. “And I’m not going to part with it.”
Viktor nodded, but she noticed a twitch in his eye. The conversation was over, but Olga knew this was only the beginning.
The next few weeks passed relatively calmly. Viktor didn’t bring up the apartment again, but Olga felt his occasional measuring glances—like he was sizing something up, gathering the courage for some important step.
The breaking point came one autumn evening. Olga was making dinner when Viktor came into the kitchen and sat down at the table. His face showed determination.
“Olga, we need to talk,” he began in a serious tone.
“I’m listening,” she replied, not turning from the stove.
“You understand that we got this apartment thanks to your parents,” Viktor chose his words carefully. “And I’m very grateful to Lidiya Nikolaevna and Andrey Mikhailovich for their generosity.”
Olga turned to him. There was something in his voice that made her wary.
“But?” she prompted.
“But maybe it’s time to think about a joint start?” Viktor blurted out. “We’re young, our whole life is ahead of us. We could create something of our own, build a future with our own hands.”
Olga switched off the stove and sat down across from him. She studied his face, trying to understand whether he was speaking his own words or channeling someone else’s thoughts.
“And what are you proposing?” she asked.
“Well, we could sell the apartment,” Viktor spoke quickly, as if afraid he’d lose his nerve. “Invest the money in a business or buy something more suitable for a young family.”
Olga looked at him squarely and answered coldly:
“It’s my gift. My parents entrusted the apartment to me, not to you and your sister.”
Viktor paled at her bluntness. He had clearly expected different words, a gentler reaction.
“Olga, we’re a family,” he tried to object. “Everything should be shared.”
“Not everything, Viktor,” Olga said firmly. “This apartment is a reminder of my parents’ care. And I won’t let their gift be turned into a bargaining chip.”
That ended the conversation, but Olga knew her husband’s family wouldn’t back down so easily. And she was right.
A few days later, Lyudmila Sergeyevna came to visit. The mother-in-law looked ceremonial and resolute, as if she were about to conduct important negotiations.
“Olga dear,” she began, settling into an armchair, “I want to talk with you. Heart to heart, like a mother with a daughter.”
Olga poured tea and sat opposite her, bracing herself for an unpleasant conversation.
“You see, a family is something shared,” Lyudmila continued in a didactic tone. “When people marry, they become one. There shouldn’t be any ‘mine’ and ‘yours.’”
“I agree,” Olga replied calmly. “But there are things that are precious not for their material value, but for their meaning.”
“Spirituality is lovely,” her mother-in-law nodded, “but practicality matters too. What, do you want to stand out? To show that you have something Viktor doesn’t?”
Olga felt indignation boiling up inside her. For Lyudmila, the apartment was a test of the daughter-in-law’s obedience. She wanted to make sure Olga would submit to the family hierarchy.
“Lyudmila Sergeyevna,” Olga said, keeping her voice polite, “I don’t want to humiliate anyone or set myself apart. This apartment simply means a great deal to me.”
“So your feelings are more important than the family’s well-being?” the mother-in-law narrowed her eyes.
Olga stayed silent, knowing any words would be turned against her. Lyudmila had achieved her goal—she’d sown seeds of doubt and irritation.
After her mother-in-law left, Olga increasingly caught herself thinking that her marriage had become an arena for other people’s plans. Instead of warmth and support, she felt constant pressure and greed. Her husband’s relatives saw the apartment as a juicy prize to be seized at any cost.
Viktor changed, too. He became quiet and pensive, often speaking on the phone in a muffled voice. Olga didn’t eavesdrop, but she could guess—his family kept working on him, urging him to bring the apartment under their control.
The final conversation took place over dinner one November evening. Viktor set down his fork and looked at his wife intently.
“Olga, I’ve thought a lot about our talk,” he began. “And I realized we’re missing excellent opportunities.”
“What opportunities?” Olga asked, though she already suspected where this was going.
“If we sell the apartment, we could take out another mortgage and buy a larger place,” Viktor said enthusiastically. “Imagine: a three-room apartment in a new building, modern finishes, a great layout. It’s a smart move!”
Olga listened, and with each word her indignation grew. He was talking about her parents’ apartment like a commodity to be traded for better housing.
“What if I don’t want to sell?” she asked quietly.
“Why not?” Viktor was surprised. “We’d get better living conditions.”
“Because it’s my parents’ gift,” Olga replied. “And I’m not going to turn their care into a commercial deal.”
Viktor frowned.
“Olga, you’re thinking too narrowly. We need to think about the future, not cling to sentiment.”
Something inside Olga finally snapped. She stood up sharply from the table and looked at her husband with such fury that he instinctively leaned back.
“Just try to lay a hand on my apartment—and you’ll be out the door that very day,” Olga said icily.
Viktor blanched in shock. He was used to a gentle, accommodating wife, and now he saw a resolve in her eyes that truly frightened him.
“Olga, what’s this?” he muttered, confused. “I didn’t mean to hurt you…”
“Hurt me?” Olga laughed, but the laugh came out bitter. “You wanted to sell the memory of my parents for your own ambitions. And you’re surprised at my reaction?”
Viktor tried to object, but Olga had already left the kitchen, slamming the door.
The next day Irina showed up at their apartment. She looked outraged and ready for a fight.
“Olga, I need to talk to you,” Irina declared without even saying hello.
“I’m listening,” Olga replied, not inviting her to sit.
“You’re selfish!” Irina burst out. “You only think about yourself! Viktor is your husband, but you refuse to meet him halfway.”
Olga listened calmly and answered just as calmly:
“Irina, this apartment has nothing to do with you or your mother. It’s my personal property.”
“Personal?” Irina flared. “You’re a married woman! You can’t have anything personal!”
“I can,” Olga said firmly. “And I will.”
After Irina left, Olga understood—if she kept silent and gave in, the apartment would become the prey of other people’s ambitions. Her husband’s relatives wouldn’t stop until they got their way. She had to act firmly, without compromise.
She took out the apartment’s documents and studied them carefully. Everything was in her name; there were no hooks for any claims. But the pressure from her husband’s family was becoming unbearable.
The decisive moment came a week later. Viktor came home after yet another family council at his mother’s. His face showed determination and a touch of aggression.
“Olga, we have to settle the apartment issue once and for all,” he announced without even taking off his coat.
“The issue is already settled,” Olga replied evenly. “The apartment stays mine.”
“No, it doesn’t!” Viktor raised his voice. “We’re a family, and everything should be shared. You can’t just decide for the two of us.”
“And you can?” Olga asked coldly.
“I’m the man, the head of the family!” Viktor exclaimed. “And I’m telling you—we need to sell the apartment for our future.”
Olga rose slowly from the couch and headed to the bedroom. Viktor followed, still trying to persuade her.
“Think about it—we’re young and healthy, we can earn for a new place. Why cling to the old one?”
Without a word, Olga took a suitcase from the closet and began packing. Viktor fell silent, watching what she was doing.
“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.
“Packing your things,” she answered, continuing.
“Why?”
“Go to your dear family, if living in MY apartment is such a burden to you,” Olga said.
Viktor grabbed her by the hand, trying to stop her.
“Olga, don’t be so dramatic! Let’s talk this through calmly.”
Olga pulled her hand free and turned to him. The resolve in her eyes made him step back.
“There’s nothing to discuss, Viktor,” she said coldly. “You’ve made your choice. Cashing in on the apartment at your mother’s and sister’s prompting turned out to be more important to you than your own wife’s opinion.”
“What do Mom and Irina have to do with it?” Viktor tried to object. “I’m thinking about our future!”
“No,” Olga shook her head. “You’re thinking about pleasing your family at my expense.”
“They’re proposing something sensible, and you’re being stubborn.”
Olga zipped up the suitcase and set it by the door. Viktor tried to explain, but she no longer listened. She pointed to the exit and spoke the words that became the verdict on their marriage:
“So the hunger for profit from the apartment—stoked by your family—matters more to you than respect for your wife. Well then, now you have neither the apartment nor a family!”
Viktor froze, lost for words. He left without looking back. He didn’t even manage to justify himself. Everything collapsed in a moment.
The days that followed passed for Olga like a fog. She tried to collect herself and decide what to do next. Viktor called, sent messages, asked to meet. Olga didn’t respond.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna and Irina also tried to contact her. The mother-in-law accused Olga of destroying the family; Irina threatened to sue. But the apartment documents were with Olga, and legally her husband’s relatives could do nothing.
A week later Olga met with a lawyer and filed for divorce. She no longer wanted to live in constant tension, defending her right to her own property.
Once all the formalities were settled, the apartment seemed different—more spacious and bright. As if some heavy weight had lifted.
It was painful for Olga to accept the collapse of her marriage, but she felt a sense of liberation. She knew it was better to be alone than to be someone else’s possession. Her parents had not given the apartment to their SON-IN-LAW—they gave it to their DAUGHTER. They wanted Olga to always have a home to return to.
Sitting in her living room that evening, Olga smiled for the first time in a long while. She had lost her husband but kept herself—and her home. And that turned out to be the most important thing. Outside, the city lights were coming on, and the apartment was warm and cozy. The home given with love remained with Olga. And no one would ever again dare to encroach on what rightfully belonged to her.
