Galina closed the door behind her, kicked off her shoes onto the floor and took a deep breath. Finally, she could relax. Today had been an important day—she had completely paid off the mortgage on her apartment. The very one she had bought before marriage, when she worked twelve-hour shifts and denied herself everything.
The kitchen greeted her with the smell of fried potatoes—Sergei had apparently already had dinner. A dirty plate lay on the table, and the burner under the frying pan was still on low.
“Seriozha, where are you?” Galina called, taking off her blazer.
A muffled sound came from the living room. She walked in and saw her husband bent over his phone. He quickly locked the screen and looked up at her.
“Oh, you’re back already.”
“Yes,” she sat down opposite him and stretched tiredly. “Just imagine, I made the last payment today. The apartment is completely mine now.”
Sergei said nothing, just shifted his gaze to the side.
“Did something happen?” Galina frowned.
He sighed and scratched the back of his head.
“Actually… yeah.”
“And?”
“I…” he hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “I gave your apartment to my sister.”
Silence.
Galina felt the blood drain from her face.
“What?”
“Well, it’s hard for Lena, you know—two kids, a rented place… And we have somewhere to live.”
“You… gave… MY apartment?!” Every word came out with effort.
“Well, yeah. What’s the big deal?”
She sprang to her feet, her fists clenched.
“What’s the big deal?! It’s my apartment, Sergei! Mine! I bought it, I paid for it!”
“But we’re a family!” He spread his hands. “Everything’s shared!”
“Shared is when people agree! When they ASK!”
“Oh, come on,” he waved her off. “It’s not like you’re greedy.”
Galina stood there, shaking with rage. Only one thought was spinning in her head:
How could he?
“When?” she whispered.
“What?”
“WHEN did you do it?!”
“A month ago…” he dropped his eyes.
So while she was making the last payments, he had already signed the deed of gift.
Galina slowly shook her head.
“I see.”
She turned and walked out of the room.
Sergei shouted after her:
“Oh come on! What, you’re going to make a scene over some apartment?”
But she was no longer listening.
Slamming the bedroom door behind her, Galina leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
It was only just beginning.
Galina sat on the edge of the bed, clutching her mobile phone in trembling fingers. On the screen glowed the number of a lawyer—her friend Marina, who specialized in housing issues. She had changed her mind three times before finally pressing the call button.
From the living room came the sound of Sergei’s footsteps. He was clearly nervous, pacing back and forth, sometimes stopping by their bedroom but never daring to come in.
“Hello, Marina? It’s Galya. I urgently need your help,” her voice shook.
While her friend listened to her confused story, Galina absentmindedly stroked the bedspread, noticing how the nail polish she’d had done just yesterday was already chipped at the edges.
“Are you sure he could even do that?” Marina asked again. “The apartment is yours, bought before the marriage, right?”
“Yes! But…” Galina bit her lip. “Three years ago, when we were filing papers for the renovation, he talked me into adding him to the documents. Said it would be easier to get approvals that way.”
There was a heavy sigh on the other end.
“Well, then formally he became a co-owner. He had the right to dispose of his share.”
Galina jumped up from the bed, gripping the phone so hard her fingers turned white.
“But it’s my apartment! I paid for it all these years alone!”
“I understand, but legally…”
“Damned lawyer!” burst out of Galina. “Sorry, I don’t mean you…”
She abruptly cut off the call when the bedroom door creaked. Sergei was standing in the doorway, pale, his lips pressed together.
“So you’re already bringing in lawyers?” he asked quietly. “Seriously?”
Galina slowly sat back down on the bed.
“And how else am I supposed to react, Sergei? You gave away my apartment without even asking me!”
He walked into the room and sat down next to her, but didn’t dare touch her.
“I told you—it’s hard for Lena. She’s alone with the kids, and we…”
“And we what?” Galina turned sharply to him. “We’re millionaires? Or did you forget that just five years ago I was taking extra jobs to pay for that apartment?”
Sergei lowered his eyes and started picking at the edge of the blanket.
“I thought you’d understand. I mean, in the end we live in my apartment, and yours was just sitting there empty…”
“It wasn’t empty! My office was there, my things!” Galina jumped up and began pacing the room. “And most importantly—you didn’t even bother to discuss it with me! As if I’m nobody here!”
Suddenly Sergei raised his head, a spark flashing in his eyes.
“And did you talk to me when you poured all our savings into your sister’s stupid business? The one that folded in six months?”
Galina froze. There it was—the real reason. Revenge for old grudges.
“That was five years ago,” she whispered. “And I paid everything back. To the last penny.”
“That’s not the point!” He slammed his fist on the nightstand. “You always decide everything on your own! Well, I decided something too!”
She looked at her husband and suddenly understood—this wasn’t some impulsive move. He had been working up to this, nursing his resentments.
“Fine,” Galina took a deep breath. “Let’s go in order. When exactly did you sign the deed of gift?”
Sergei rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“A month ago. But Lena already moved in last week.”
“What?!”
“She said she couldn’t wait any longer, the rent was going up…”
Galina grabbed her bag and started throwing things into it.
“Where are you going?” Sergei asked, frightened.
“Where do you think? To MY apartment! I want to see how your sister settled into my home!”
He tried to stop her:
“Wait, let’s talk calmly…”
But Galina had already broken free, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. Down on the street she hailed a taxi, her fingers trembling as she typed in the address she knew by heart.
On the way she tried to pull herself together. All of this felt like some kind of nightmare. How had they ended up like this? Once she and Sergei had been the most loving couple among all their friends…
The taxi driver glanced at her in the rear-view mirror. Galina caught herself jiggling her leg nonstop and gripping her bag so tightly her fingers were going numb. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. But inside everything was on fire.
Now she would see her apartment. Hers, damn it! And she’d find out just how far this family betrayal had gone.
The taxi stopped at the familiar five-story building. For a long time Galina couldn’t make herself get out—the strength had gone out of her legs. She paid and slowly walked to the entrance, noting every detail: the crack on the steps she’d always meant to fill, the worn railing on the third floor.
Climbing to her—no, no longer hers—fourth floor, she stopped in front of the door. A new metal door, clearly recently installed. Galina ran her fingers over the cold surface, then sharply pressed the doorbell.
From inside came hurried footsteps and children’s laughter.
“Who is it?” Lena’s voice called.
“Open up, Lena. It’s Galina.”
There was silence behind the door, then a whisper. Finally the door opened a crack on the chain. In the gap appeared the wary face of her husband’s sister.
“Galya… What are you doing here so late?”
“Open the door. I came to see my apartment.”
Lena nervously licked her lips.
“Now’s not a good time… The kids are sleeping.”
Galina kicked the door sharply with her foot, the chain snapping with a crack.
“This is my apartment!” she hissed, stepping over the threshold.
As she walked in, she froze. Everything had been turned upside down. Her favorite striped wallpaper was painted over in bright pink. The bookcases she’d spent years filling—gone. In the corner stood a playpen, toys scattered on the floor.
A little girl, Lena’s daughter, ran out of the room.
“Mom, who is that?” she asked, hiding behind her mother’s robe.
Lena quickly scooped the child into her arms.
“Go to your room, sweetheart.”
When the girl ran off, Lena turned back to Galina, her eyes blazing.
“Have you completely lost it? Kicking in the door in front of a child?”
“What did you think?” Galina slowly walked through the apartment, running her hands along the walls as if checking whether this was real. “That I’d just say ‘okay’ and leave?”
She walked into the former bedroom—now there were two children’s beds. In place of her dressing table stood a changing chest. The air smelled of baby cream and milk.
“You’ve already settled in completely,” Galina whispered. “As if I never lived here.”
Lena crossed her arms over her chest.
“Seriozha told me you agreed. That you decided together.”
“You’re lying!” Galina spun around. “He knew perfectly well I’d never agree!”
She walked over to the window, where her desk had once stood. Now there was a children’s corner with coloring books and crayons. Galina picked up one of the children’s drawings—a crooked little house with a chimney.
“You knew,” she said quietly. “You knew perfectly well the apartment was mine. That I bought it myself. How could you?”
Lena suddenly burst into tears.
“I had nowhere to go! After the divorce I’d be on the street with the kids! And you have two apartments!”
“That’s not two apartments!” Galina slammed her fist on the windowsill. “That’s my apartment and his apartment! And he had no right!”
She suddenly noticed a photo on the wall—Sergei hugging Lena and the kids, all of them smiling. The picture had clearly been taken recently. Galina tore it off the wall.
“And what’s this? You already had a celebration about my betrayal?”
Lena snatched the photo away.
“It’s just a family picture! You’ve completely gone crazy!”
Galina suddenly felt horribly tired. She sat down on a little children’s chair, which creaked under her weight.
“That’s enough. You’re moving out tomorrow. I’m taking this to court.”
Lena straightened sharply, her tears instantly gone.
“Just try. The deed of gift is properly executed. Sergei did everything right.”
“We’ll see what the court says.”
“Oh yeah, especially when they find out you threatened me in front of the kids!” Lena pulled out her phone. “I already recorded you breaking in the door!”
Galina stood up, suddenly realizing what kind of trap she’d walked into. She took one last look around the apartment—her former home, now foreign and hostile.
“Goodbye, Lena. See you in court.”
She walked out, slamming the door. On the landing Galina leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Now she knew for sure—this was war. And there was nowhere to retreat.
Galina got home at dawn. All night she’d wandered around the city, trying to collect her thoughts. The key stuck in the lock—her hands were apparently still shaking. The light in the hallway was on—Sergei was waiting.
He was sitting in the kitchen, his eyes red from lack of sleep, an unfinished glass of whiskey in front of him. When he saw his wife, he jumped up, knocking over the chair.
“Where have you been?! I’ve been all over the city looking for you!”
Galina silently walked past him, took off her coat. In the mirror she saw her own face—gray, hollowed out overnight, with dark circles under her eyes.
“I was at my apartment. Or rather, at your gift to your sister,” her voice sounded hoarse.
Sergei grabbed her by the shoulder:
“Have you completely lost your mind? You could at least have warned me!”
She slowly turned to look him straight in the eyes.
“How did you warn me about the deed of gift?”
He let go of her and stepped back. Galina walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Her hands were shaking so much the water sloshed out.
“Lena says… you threatened her,” Sergei muttered.
Galina snorted.
“Of course. I’m the monster who wants to throw her and her kids out on the street. You already decided everything for me, didn’t you?”
She pulled out her phone and opened the gallery:
“Take a look at what they did to my home.”
Sergei reluctantly looked at the photos: painted-over walls, strangers’ things, children’s beds where their bedroom used to be. Something like shame flickered across his face.
“Well… the kids need…”
“Stop it,” Galina snapped the screen off. “Let’s be honest. You deliberately had yourself added to the documents three years ago, didn’t you? Was that the plan?”
He dropped his eyes again, picking at the edge of the table.
“N-not exactly. I just thought…”
“Don’t lie!” She slammed her palm on the table, and the glass jumped. “You and your sister planned all this in advance. You used my debt to you from that business with my sister.”
Sergei suddenly raised his head, his eyes blazing:
“And what, didn’t I have the right? Back then you blew all our money on your sister’s scheme! We lived on credit for a year!”
“And I paid it all back! Every penny!” Galina stood up, their faces now just inches apart. “And what did you do? You stole my apartment from me!”
He recoiled as if struck.
“I didn’t steal anything! I just…”
“What? Just decided for me? Thought I’d swallow it?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You knew what that apartment meant to me. I bought it when I buried my mother. With the money she left…”
Sergei turned pale. It was a low blow, and Galina knew it. But right now she was overflowing with rage.
Suddenly something new appeared in his eyes—a cold, calculating glint.
“The documents are properly executed,” he said in an even tone. “You won’t prove anything. Lena has already filed for remodeling approval.”
Galina felt the ground slip from under her feet.
“What?”
“Yes. She’s combining the kitchen with the living room. They’re already knocking down walls.”
She grabbed the countertop. Her apartment… her home… being knocked down.
“You… you couldn’t…” she whispered.
Sergei suddenly perked up:
“Look, maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement? I don’t want to leave you with nothing. Maybe…”
“Shut up,” Galina raised her hand. “Just shut up.”
She staggered out of the kitchen like a drunk. In the bedroom she locked the door, even though she knew it was pointless. Her fortress had already fallen.
She took out her phone and called Marina again. This time the conversation was brief.
“Marina, I need the best lawyer in housing law. Money is no object.”
Hanging up, she opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand, where she kept important documents. The folder with the apartment papers was in place. Galina went through the sheets—sale contract, acceptance acts… And there at the very bottom was that same supplementary agreement adding Sergei as a co-owner.
She pulled it out, studying the signature—her own name written in her own hand. How blind she had been.
Dawn was breaking outside the window. Galina walked over and pressed her palm against the cold glass. Somewhere out there, on the other side of the city, workers were knocking down the walls of her past life.
But the war was just beginning.
The office of attorney Tatyana Leonidovna was located in an old mansion in the city center. Galina sat in an armchair in front of a massive oak desk while the lawyer studied the documents. Blinding morning light poured through the huge window, making her eyes ache after a sleepless night.
“The situation is complicated, but not hopeless,” Tatyana Leonidovna finally said, taking off her glasses. “Your husband really did have the right to dispose of his share. But there are nuances.”
Galina tensed, staring at the expressive face of the lawyer with faint wrinkles around her eyes.
“What nuances?”
“First, transfers between close relatives are often contested if there are signs of collusion.” The lawyer pulled a printout from the folder. “I’ve already sent a request to the bank. A week before the deed of gift was signed, your husband received a large transfer.”
Galina leaned forward.
“From whom?”
“We don’t know yet. But the amount suspiciously coincides with the value of his share of the apartment.” A predatory spark lit up in the lawyer’s eyes. “If we can prove that this wasn’t a gift but a sham transaction…”
Galina suddenly remembered how a month ago Sergei had unexpectedly gone “to a friend in another city.” She hadn’t paid attention to his strange excitement when he returned.
“What else can we do?”
“We urgently file a claim to recognize the transaction as invalid. In parallel, we need to find evidence of collusion.” The lawyer placed a voice recorder in front of Galina. “Try to draw your husband into a candid conversation.”
Leaving the office, Galina stopped on the steps and closed her eyes. The cool wind blew across her face. She took out her phone and dialed the number of a childhood friend who worked for a construction company.
“Anya, I need your help. The apartment on Sadovaya 28 is being remodeled right now. Find out who the contractor is.”
An hour later, sitting in a café across the street from her former home, Galina got an answer. The contractor was a company owned by Sergei’s friend. That was a bit too obvious.
She watched the workers carry out construction debris. Her office, where she’d written her thesis and prepared for defenses—now a pile of broken bricks. A lump rose in her throat.
Her phone vibrated—a message from Sergei: “Where are you? We need to talk.” Galina smirked. She turned on the voice recorder in her pocket and dialed his number.
“So, you finally decided to explain yourself?” she asked calmly.
“Galya, let’s not turn this into a scandal.” He sounded tired. “I’m ready to compensate you for part of the value.”
“How noble. And how much did Lena pay you for my apartment?”
Silence. Much too long.
“What are you talking about? It was a gift!”
“Don’t lie, Sergei. I know about the transfer. You sold my apartment, you didn’t give it away.”
His breathing on the phone grew quicker.
“Who told you… I mean… You don’t understand anything!”
“I understand that you’re a scumbag.” Galina watched as the workers loaded her old front door into a truck. “But know this—I’ve filed a lawsuit. And we’ll go through all your accounts.”
He suddenly hissed:
“You won’t prove anything! And even if… Lena and the kids are already registered there! The court won’t kick them out onto the street!”
Galina smiled. She had found a lever faster than she’d expected.
“Thanks for the confession, dear. That will help me a lot.”
She hung up and checked the recording. Everything was clear. In her pocket she had one more trump card—the key to the mailbox in that building. One last chance to find paper evidence.
In the evening, after the workers had left, Galina went into the entrance. Her heart was pounding wildly. She opened the mailbox—inside were utility bills and… an envelope from the bank addressed to Sergei.
With trembling fingers she opened it and saw a loan statement. The very loan he had supposedly taken “for a car.” Only the amount matched the appraisal of his share of the apartment, and the recipient was… Lena.
Galina photographed the documents and put everything back. As she was leaving, she literally ran into the upstairs neighbor, Aunt Lida.
“Galya, dear!” The old lady grabbed her hand. “What are you doing here? They threw you out!”
“Not exactly, Aunt Lida.” Galina suddenly felt a lump in her throat. “Tell me, has Lena been living here long?”
“They just moved in yesterday! And a week ago that… husband of yours came with some men, looking at the walls, taking measurements.” Aunt Lida lowered her voice. “And then I heard him on the phone, saying: ‘The main thing is to do everything quickly, before Galya comes to her senses.’”
Galina thanked the neighbor, promising to visit. As she stepped outside, she realized—now she had everything. Collusion, lies, a sham deed of gift. The war was only beginning, but the first shot was hers.
Courtroom No. 14 looked like an aquarium—stuffy, crowded, with a greenish light from old fluorescent lamps. Galina sat at the table next to Tatyana Leonidovna, clutching a folder of documents, while the lawyer leafed through them. Opposite sat Sergei and Lena with their attorney—a young man in an expensive suit who kept checking his watch.
Lena looked pale. She sighed ostentatiously, adjusting the scarf around her neck—as if mourning the stolen apartment. Sergei stubbornly avoided his wife’s gaze, studying the pattern on the linoleum.
“Case No. 2-4786, the claim of Galina Semyonova to invalidate the deed of gift,” announced the judge, a woman in her fifties with a tired but attentive look. “Let’s begin.”
Galina took a deep breath as Tatyana Leonidovna began presenting their position. The attorney spoke clearly, unemotionally, but every word hit the target.
“The plaintiff acquired the apartment before marriage with her own funds. The defendant’s inclusion as co-owner three years ago was a formal step to simplify renovation paperwork. At the same time, all expenses for maintaining the property were paid solely by the plaintiff.”
The judge went through the documents, making notes. Lena shifted nervously in her seat.
“However, the defendant, having taken advantage of the plaintiff’s trust, executed a deed of gift in favor of his sister,” continued Tatyana Leonidovna. “Moreover, we can prove that this was not a gift but a sham sale.”
Lena’s lawyer sprang to his feet.
“Objection! These are baseless accusations!”
“We have evidence,” said Tatyana calmly, taking bank statements from the folder. “A week before the deed of gift was signed, a sum equivalent to the market value of his share in the apartment was transferred to the defendant’s account. From the defendant’s sister.”
A murmur rippled through the courtroom. Sergei turned pale, and Lena suddenly began to sob loudly.
“It’s a loan!” she screamed. “I took out a loan to help my brother! It has nothing to do with the apartment!”
The judge gave her a stern look.
“Defendant, calm down. You’ll have your turn to speak.”
Tatyana went on as if nothing had happened:
“Furthermore, immediately after the deed of gift was executed, illegal remodeling work began in the apartment. The contractor is a company owned by the defendant’s friend. We have filed a separate claim regarding this matter.”
Galina watched Sergei squirm in his chair. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His lawyer scribbled frantically in his notepad.
When it was the defense’s turn, their attorney started talking about “children’s rights” and “social justice.”
“My client is a single mother with two minor children,” he declared pompously. “Depriving them of housing would be a violation of their rights.”
Galina couldn’t hold back.
“And what about my rights? I paid that mortgage for ten years! I poured my soul into that home!”
The judge gave her a strict look.
“Plaintiff, maintain order.”
Tatyana laid a hand on Galina’s wrist, calming her. Then, unexpectedly, she asked to call a witness—Aunt Lida.
Nervously twisting the end of her shawl, the old lady told how she had seen Sergei with people taking measurements a week before the “gift,” and how she had heard him talking on the phone about the rush.
“And besides,” added Aunt Lida, “that Lena only moved in yesterday! But I was told she’d been living there with the kids for a year!”
Lena jumped up, but her lawyer yanked her back into her seat. The courtroom buzzed.
The final blow was the recording of the conversation between Galina and Sergei, where he essentially admitted the sale. When they played it, Sergei covered his face with his hands.
After closing arguments, the judge retired to the deliberation room. Galina sat there staring out the window, where autumn rain drummed against the glass. She remembered how she and Sergei had chosen that apartment—laughing, arguing about wallpaper colors, dreaming of the future…
“All rise, court is in session!” the clerk announced.
Galina stood, trembling slightly. The judge read the decision in a monotonous voice:
“The claim is granted. The deed of gift is declared invalid…”
She didn’t hear the rest. Lena was sobbing loudly, Sergei was shouting something at his lawyer. Galina stood still, feeling a heavy weight fall from her shoulders.
As she left the courtroom, Sergei caught up with her. His eyes were full of hatred.
“Happy now? You left the kids homeless!”
Galina looked at him without emotion.
“They’re not homeless. They have your apartment. And mine is mine again.”
She turned and walked away without looking back. The rain had already stopped, and sunlight was breaking through the torn clouds. For the first time in months, Galina felt she could breathe freely.
The apartment greeted Galina with cold and the smell of fresh plaster. Two weeks had passed since the court’s decision, but traces of Lena and her children were everywhere—stains on the walls, scratches on the parquet, pink smears from the paint they’d used to cover her favorite wallpaper.
Galina slowly walked through the rooms, touching the walls as if checking they were real. Her home. Hers again.
In the bedroom, where children’s beds had stood, there was now emptiness. Lena had taken everything, even the light fixtures. Only an old chest of drawers remained, the one Galina had bought with her first salary.
She sat on it and pulled out her phone. Ten missed calls from Sergei. He called every day, sometimes begging for a “second chance,” sometimes threatening new lawsuits.
There was a knock at the door.
Galina flinched. Through the peephole she saw Sergei—haggard, with a week’s stubble, in a wrinkled shirt.
“Open up!” his voice sounded hoarse. “We need to talk.”
She took a deep breath and turned the key.
He stumbled into the hallway, the smell of alcohol hitting her in the face.
“Happy now?” he hissed. “Lena and the kids are crashing at a friend’s now. I moved out of my apartment to give them space.”
Galina crossed her arms over her chest.
“And what exactly did you think would happen? You gave away MY apartment without asking.”
“I made a mistake!” he suddenly dropped to his knees and grabbed her hands. “Galya, forgive me! We’ve been together so many years…”
She pulled away and stepped back.
“No, Sergei. You didn’t make a mistake. You calculated everything. You just didn’t expect me to fight back.”
He got up, his face twisting with anger.
“What is wrong with you?!” he shouted. “You’re ready to destroy our family over some walls, over some money?!”
“Not over walls,” Galina said quietly. “Over betrayal. You knew what this apartment meant to me. You used my trust.”
Sergei ground his teeth, then suddenly turned and punched the wall.
“Fine! To hell with you! But know this—I’ll file for division of property. You’re not getting half of my apartment!”
Galina gave a tired smile.
“Not anymore.”
“What?”
“I consulted with a lawyer. You seem to have forgotten that your ‘apartment’ is a gift from your grandmother. By law, it’s not subject to division.”
His face turned ashen.
“You… you calculated everything…”
“No,” she opened the front door and motioned for him to leave. “I just stopped trusting you.”
Sergei paused on the threshold, then abruptly pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket.
“Here. A summons to court. For divorce.”
He threw it on the floor and left, slamming the door behind him.
Galina picked up the envelope without opening it. Outside it had grown dark, and in the empty apartment echoes rang—dripping from the kitchen tap, the creak of an old radiator.
She walked over to the window and pressed her palm to the cold glass. Down on the street, Sergei was getting into a taxi, his silhouette small and pathetic.
Tomorrow she would call the lawyer. Start filing the papers. Maybe she would sell this apartment and buy something new—without memories, without betrayal.
But right now, in this silence, for the first time in many months she felt… free.
Three months passed.
Galina stood in front of the mirror in her new apartment, straightening the collar of her white blouse. Sunlight flooded the spacious living room through panoramic windows—this was a completely different home, a different neighborhood, a different life.
In the kitchen, coffee was coming to a boil, filling the air with a bitter aroma. She poured herself a cup and went out onto the balcony. The city buzzed below, hurrying about its business.
Her phone rang. Marina.
“Ready? The hearing is in an hour.”
“Yes,” Galina took a sip of coffee. “I’m heading out.”
“Don’t worry. Today is just a formality.”
She hung up and looked around the apartment. Boxes were already unpacked, things put away. Only one small box remained untouched—inside were photos, cards, little things from her past life. Galina still hadn’t decided what to do with them.
The doorbell rang in the hallway.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
The voice behind the door made her freeze. Sergei.
Galina slowly approached and looked through the peephole. He stood there with a bouquet of white roses, in a new suit, but his eyes were the same—tired, with dark circles.
“Why are you here?”
“Let me in. I want to talk.”
She opened the door but didn’t let him pass, standing in the doorway.
“We have court today, Sergei. It’s all already decided.”
“I know.” He held out the flowers. “I just wanted… to apologize.”
Galina didn’t take the bouquet.
“It’s too late.”
“Listen…” he lowered his hand with the flowers. “I get it now. Lena… she used me. After the trial she doesn’t even want to talk to me.”
“How unexpected,” Galina said dryly.
Sergei clenched his fists.
“I was an idiot! But can’t we fix things? We’ve been together so many years…”
“No,” she shook her head. “You weren’t an idiot. You were calculating. You just miscalculated.”
Behind him, the elevator chimed. Marina stepped onto the landing with a folder of documents.
“Oh,” she raised an eyebrow. “Are we interrupting something?”
“No,” Galina picked up her bag. “I’m ready.”
Sergei stepped back, a grimace of pain twisting his face.
“You’re not even going to say goodbye?”
She stopped and turned.
“Goodbye, Sergei.”
The elevator doors closed, leaving him alone with the undelivered flowers.
At court, everything went quickly. No emotions, no tears. When the judge announced the dissolution of the marriage, Galina felt only a slight dizziness, like after a long illness.
“You okay?” Marina asked as they left.
“Yes. It’s just… strange.”
They walked outside. The autumn sun warmed her face.
“Where to now?” Marina smiled.
Galina took a deep breath.
“Forward.”
They went into the nearest café. Over coffee, Marina unexpectedly asked:
“What about that apartment?”
“I sold it,” Galina stirred sugar into her cup. “Signed the papers yesterday.”
“Don’t you regret it?”
“No. I needed a clean slate.”
She looked out the window, where a young mother with a stroller passed by, a couple of students laughed, and a courier hurried along. Life went on.
Her phone buzzed—a message from a new realtor. “Galina, I’ve found a great option for your business. When can you see it?”
She smiled. There was still so much ahead.
“You know,” she said to Marina, “I’m thinking of opening my own place. A small café. With good coffee and homemade pies.”
“That’s wonderful!” her friend laughed. “You’ve always dreamed about that.”
Yes. She had.
Galina leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. For the first time in a long while, the future didn’t look like a dark tunnel. It was… just different. And that was good.
A year later
The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries hung in the air of the little café “U Gali.” Galina straightened her apron, checking that everything was ready to open. Morning sunlight filled the Scandinavian-style interior—light wood, soft fabrics, live plants on the windowsills.
“Galina Sergeyevna, where should I put the labels for the muffins?” asked the young barista, Anya.
“On the middle shelf, on the left. And please, just Galina.”
She walked over to the window, watching the street wake up. This neighborhood was nothing like the old one—you could feel the city’s breath here, its rhythm and energy.
The café door chimed.
“Working again on your day off?” Fresh air swept in along with Marina, carrying a huge box.
“You know we’ve got a tasting of the new menu today. What’s that?”
“A surprise.” Her friend smiled slyly, setting the box on the counter. “Open it.”
Inside was a handmade sign: “Café ‘U Gali’. Best coffee in town.”
“Marina…” Galina ran her fingers over the carved letters.
“Don’t thank me. I just knew you wouldn’t order one for yourself. Too modest.”
They laughed. Over the past year, since the divorce, Marina had become closer than a sister.
Their conversation was interrupted by a phone call. An unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Galina? It’s… Lena.”
Silence. Even Anya froze with a tray in her hands, sensing the tension.
“What do you want?” Galina gripped the phone.
“I… wanted to apologize. And warn you. Sergei… he’s filing a motion to review the apartment case.”
Galina slowly exhaled.
“Let him.”
“He found some influential lawyer. Says you ‘set him up’ with those recordings…”
“Lena,” Galina cut her off, “if you called out of guilt—don’t. If you want to help—tell him I sold the apartment. To new owners. Six months ago.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“I see…” Lena finally whispered. “It’s just… I really am ashamed.”
Galina looked out the window, where a young father was walking with a child on his shoulders.
“You know, I’m not angry anymore. But I’m not going to forgive you either. Live your life.”
She hung up. Marina raised an eyebrow.
“Trouble?”
“No. Just the past knocking.”
At that moment, the door opened again and the first customers came in—an elderly couple from the neighboring building.
“Good morning, Galina! We came right for opening time!”
“Good morning!” her face broke into a smile. “Your usual? One cappuccino and one latte with cinnamon?”
While Anya made the coffee, Galina cut a slice of fresh apple pie. Life moved forward.
In the evening, as she was closing the café, she noticed an envelope slipped under the door. Inside was a photograph—her and Sergei at the sea eight years ago. On the back, in a shaky hand, was written: “Forgive me.”
Galina looked at the picture for a long time, then carefully tore it in half. She left one piece in the envelope and threw the other into the trash.
Tomorrow would be a new day. And it would definitely be better than yesterday.
Two years later
Galina stood before a packed hall in a conference center, adjusting her microphone. On the screen behind her the title glowed: “How to protect yourself and your property. A true story.”
“When I decided to share my story on a blog,” her voice was confident, “I never expected it to get a million views.”
The hall erupted in applause. In the front row sat Marina, chin lifted proudly.
“Today my café is celebrating its anniversary,” Galina went on. “And my ex-husband…” She paused. “Is still in court with the new owners of my former apartment.”
The hall burst into laughter.
Suddenly the back door of the hall opened. In the doorway she saw a familiar figure—Sergei. He stood there, not daring to enter, in a worn coat Galina would recognize anywhere.
“But the main thing I’ve learned…” her voice wavered for just a second, “is that you cannot allow even the closest people to cross your boundaries.”
She finished her talk to a standing ovation. As the crowd began to disperse, an elderly woman with tears in her eyes approached the stage:
“Thank you. My son-in-law did the same thing with our dacha… Now I know how to fight.”
Galina hugged her, and out of the corner of her eye saw that Sergei was still standing by the exit.
“Give me a minute,” she whispered to Marina.
They met by the service entrance. He looked older, his eyes tired.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Have you been following me?” Galina asked, folding her arms.
“I saw your blog… You’re famous now.”
“What do you want, Sergei?”
He pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket.
“These are the last documents… I’m withdrawing all my lawsuits. I just… wanted to give them to you in person.”
Galina took the envelope without opening it.
“Lena got married again,” he said suddenly. “She moved to Spain. Took the kids.”
“I’m sorry,” Galina replied—and it was the truth.
They stood in silence. Somewhere a phone rang—an alarm reminding her of the next session.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Galya…” he suddenly grabbed her hand. “If only we could go back…”
She gently pulled free.
“But we can’t. Goodbye, Sergei.”
On her way back into the hall, her phone vibrated—a message from a new franchise manager. “Galina, we’ve received a proposal to franchise your café. Ready to discuss?”
Marina was waiting for her by the stage with two glasses of champagne.
“Well, heroine?” she smiled.
Galina took a glass and looked at her life—public talks, her business, loyal friends.
“You know, I think… this is only the beginning.”
They clinked glasses. Sunlight streamed in through the windows. Somewhere music started playing.
Life went on
