nobody’s going to take your apartment away? really? and when your ex-husband turns up at your door with his mother and suitcases, sure that he has every right to live here—what will you do? smile and step aside, clearing the way? or will you find the strength to slam the door in their insolent faces?
taisya still remembered the last day sergey left. it was an ordinary tuesday; she was cooking dinner in her little kitchen. he simply packed his things into a bag and said, ‘i’m tired. that’s enough for me. i’ve had enough.’
he didn’t slam the door, didn’t shout. he left quietly, as if vanishing from her life. to his mother.
sergey and alevtina pavlovna were two halves of the same apple. his mother had always mattered more to him than anyone else in the world. and a daughter-in-law to her was just a temporary nuisance. ‘your housekeeping isn’t great, my son,’ she used to say when she came over. ‘a family without children isn’t really a family,’ she repeated—though she never wanted grandchildren at all. she just needed her son by her side. always and constantly. maternal love.
thirteen years together dissolved without a trace.
in the first months after he left, taisya waited for a call. a message. anything. then she stopped. and oddly—it became easier for her.
after a year of solitude she grew accustomed to the silence. to her own pace. to the fact that no one winced at the scent of her favorite perfume. no one switched off her music in the middle of a song. no one commented on her every move.
in those early months she woke up feeling a void. then she realized: it wasn’t emptiness—it was freedom. gradually she began wearing makeup each morning. not for anyone else—for herself. she bought bright accent pillows. hung a painting of a tiger-woman that sergey had called ‘tasteless.’
and she grew to love her new life. to love herself.
after their wedding sergey had said everything was fine, that it was good for just the two of them. but when they’d visit friends who had children, he would change. first he’d play with the little ones, laugh—but then fall silent.
and at night they’d go to bed back-to-back. no hugs. no kisses. taisya once suggested, ‘maybe we should adopt?’ he just shook his head: ‘i don’t want someone else’s child.’ slowly a wall rose between them—not from fights or scandals, but from silence. every evening in the same apartment, at the same table, in the same bed—and infinitely distant from each other.
once, back in university, she’d refused to carry a pregnancy to term—she was afraid she couldn’t handle both studies and a baby. she regretted it every day of her life, especially when she learned she would never be able to become a mother.
a knock sounded at the door one sunday evening. taisya had just stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a large towel. sunday—her day. the day she allowed herself not to be a teacher. just herself, a woman with foam in the bath, a face mask on, and treats in hand.
throwing on her robe, she opened the door and froze, unable to believe her eyes.
there stood sergey. he looked thinner somehow, even with a new haircut. behind him—alevtina pavlovna, face triumphant. both carrying bags—he with his familiar duffel, she with two huge trunks.
‘hi,’ sergey said, surveying taisya from head to toe. ‘you look good.’
she instinctively tightened her robe. his gaze was unpleasant—appraising, as if he had the right.
‘mom’s apartment had a burst pipe—we got flooded,’ he continued, as if nothing had happened. ‘the repair will take two weeks, maybe a month. everything needs to dry out and the floors to be redone. we’ll stay with you. besides, you’re alone, and the apartment is practically shared. after all, we’re husband and wife in fact.’
a year. a whole year he hadn’t called, hadn’t written. and now he stands on her doorstep as if he’d left only yesterday.
‘we won’t be long,’ added alevtina pavlovna. ‘a couple of months at most. then we’ll leave. you don’t mind, taisya?’
‘taichka.’ it was the first time in thirteen years her mother-in-law had used a pet name. that frightened taisya more than anything.
she felt her old self stir—the self who had always been compliant, quiet—ready to say ‘yes, of course, come in.’ but another self had awakened beside her—the self who had learned to live alone. who had discovered the value of her solitude.
‘no,’ said taisya.
‘what?’ sergey asked, as if he hadn’t heard.
‘i said “no.” you will not live here.’
alevtina pavlovna stepped forward, practically wedging herself between taisya and the doorway:
‘what’s with that look, honey? you think we like begging at your door? we have a force majeure. we have nowhere else to go. besides, you owe sergey so much. he took you in after your… problems… others wouldn’t have accepted you.’
‘sergey, move your foot,’ taisya said through gritted teeth, pressing her weight against the door. ‘i’m not joking.’
‘come on now,’ he pressed harder, the door swinging wider. ‘we’ll stay a month or two and then we’ll be off. it’s no big deal. step aside, taika.’
he reached out to push her shoulder. taisya recoiled.
‘just try to touch me.’
alevtina seized the moment, forcing her way into the apartment, dragging her trunks behind her.
‘what a performance, girl?’ she hissed, scanning the hallway. ‘husband’s back home and you act like a witch. and that smell… need to air this place out.’
taisya felt her cheeks flame—with anger, with shame—they barged into her home and had the audacity to complain!
‘get out! right now!’ she screamed. ‘this is my apartment! MINE! and you are not living here!’
‘calm down,’ sergey rolled his eyes. ‘you’ll wake the neighbors. we’ll just stay for a couple of months, no one’s taking your dump.’
‘yes, dear,’ alevtina chimed in, shrugging off her coat. ‘no need for hysterics. better make us some tea.’
alevtina let out a caw like a crow:
‘what?! have you lost your mind? that’s your husband! your family!’
‘ex-husband,’ taisya corrected. ‘and certainly not family.’
taisya grabbed her phone from the bedside table and dialed 112. her hands shook, but her finger hit the keys precisely.
‘are you insane?!’ sergey lunged at her, trying to snatch the phone. ‘what the hell are you doing?’
‘don’t you dare!’ taisya shoved him back with her free hand. ‘i’m calling the police! you broke into my apartment unlawfully!’
‘hello,’ she said into the handset, retreating into the living room. ‘people have broken into my apartment. they’re trying to stay by force. i’m afraid! they’re aggressive! please send someone!’
she quickly gave her address.
‘you’ve lost it?!’ sergey looked at his mother. ‘mom, did you hear that? she’s calling the local officer!’
‘get out!’ taisya repeated, brandishing the phone like a weapon. ‘the officer is on his way!’
‘are you nuts?’ alevtina clutched her trunks, as if fearing they’d be taken.
‘this isn’t my problem,’ sergey spat. ‘step out of the way, taika.’
‘mom, do something!’ he wailed, trying to strong-arm the door. but theres…
the door swung open and in stepped officer sokolov—strong, in uniform, as if by magic. the hallway was still open, sergey and alevtina arguing with taisya when he appeared.
‘i’m inspector sokolov,’ he introduced himself. ‘we received a report of unlawful entry. what’s happening here?’
his gaze scanned all three, settling on taisya—tearful, trembling in her home clothes. she didn’t immediately recognize him—igor sokolov—the same boy from third-row in school.
‘igor?’ she exhaled, both surprised and somehow ashamed.
‘taisya?’ he frowned, then his face hardened. ‘what’s going on here?’
‘family drama, officer,’ sergey inserted himself, forcing a smile. ‘my wife got a bit carried away. we—’
‘he isn’t my husband,’ taisya interrupted, voice quivering. ‘we haven’t lived together for a year. and they broke in by force, refuse to leave.’
‘she’s lying,’ alevtina cackled. ‘my son came home, he has the right! and what does she do? you see for yourself.’
‘are you registered at this address?’ igor demanded of sergey.
‘no, but—’
‘who owns the apartment?’
‘she does,’ sergey pointed at taisya. ‘but we’re married; it’s community property!’
‘i received this apartment before marriage as a gift from my grandmother,’ taisya blurted. ‘it’s solely mine.’
‘if the property was in your name before marriage and you are the only one registered here, they have no right to stay without your consent,’ igor declared, then turned to sergey and his mother. ‘pack your things and leave.’
‘are you kidding me?’ sergey raised his voice. ‘where will we go? i cooked for her for twelve years, paid for this dump, did renovations, and now we’re out on the street?’
‘did you hear him?’ igor’s voice turned icy. ‘pack up. get out. or i’ll have you arrested for trespassing.’
‘how dare you!’ alevtina screeched. ‘my son is an honest man! and she… she couldn’t even give birth, couldn’t keep a home!’
‘i’ll give you one last warning,’ igor stepped forward, hand instinctively on his baton. ‘another insult and you’ll be detained for disrespecting an officer. get out. now.’
sergey tugged at his mother’s sleeve:
‘come on, mom. don’t humiliate yourself before her. you’ll regret this; you’ll crawl back later…’
‘get out!’ taisya’s voice—suddenly firm—rang out. ‘and never come back. NEVER!’
‘you’ll regret it,’ sergey snarled. ‘you’ll die alone—an old, worthless hag who couldn’t even have children!’
taisya shuddered. there it was—the thing he’d thought of her all those years. what he blamed her for.
hot tears streamed down her face—angry, helpless.
‘enough,’ igor’s tone was stern. ‘one more insult and i’ll arrest you. last chance. leave. immediately.’
sergey jerked his mother’s hand:
‘let’s go, mom. don’t humiliate yourself.’
‘but where will we go?!’ alevtina clung to her trunks, as though they were her last lifeline.
‘not my problem,’ igor snapped. ‘you have one minute.’
when the door slammed shut behind them, taisya sank to the floor, trembling, teeth chattering as if from cold.
‘hey,’ igor crouched beside her.
‘i hate them,’ she whispered, burying her face in her hands. ‘how could they… how could he!’
tears flowed in an unending torrent—hot, angry, long-held back.
‘what did i do to deserve this?’ she sobbed. ‘a whole year no word, no call—and now they show up! as if entitled!’
igor awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘sorry to ask… but it’s true he left a year ago? you’re still married?’
‘yes,’ she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘he just… packed and left. went to mommy. said he was tired. and i… waited. thought he’d come back and we’d talk… but he…’ another wave of sobs engulfed her. ‘i will never take him back! ever!’
‘good,’ his voice carried unexpected firmness.
taisya looked at him:
‘what?’
‘good that you won’t,’ repeated igor. ‘he doesn’t respect you. and his mother… i won’t say what i think of her.’
for the first time someone wasn’t judging. didn’t tell her to reconcile, give him another chance, that ‘after all he’s your husband,’ or ‘men have it hard.’ someone simply said: you’re right.
‘tea?’ she asked, dabbing her tears.
‘i’ll have some,’ he nodded. ‘your hands are shaking.’
‘wouldn’t you shake?’ she headed to the kitchen, surprised at how quickly she felt herself returning to normal.
they sat drinking tea. taisya jerked at every door slam in the hallway.
‘tomorrow i’ll file for divorce,’ she said, staring into her cup. ‘no sense delaying.’
‘that’s right,’ igor set down his cup. ‘you should rest now.’
‘thank you,’ she murmured, uncertain how to express gratitude without sounding grandiose.
when he left, taisya turned up the TV loud—she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts.
in the morning she took a personal day and went to the mfc to submit the paperwork. that evening she found igor’s number in her phone and called.
‘hi. how are you?’ his voice sounded hesitant.
‘i’m fine. i filed the papers. divorce in a month.’
‘good you didn’t wait.’
‘why wait? i spent thirteen years on him. that’s enough.’
the phone became their lifeline. calls every evening. short at first, then longer. about work. the weather. weekend plans.
two weeks later he suggested going to the movies. taisya agreed immediately—didn’t even ask which film. they sat side by side in the dark auditorium, their hands brushing as if by accident.
she expected the kiss to be special. it wasn’t. they left the cinema into the night, rain misting down. igor draped his jacket over her shoulders.
‘warmer?’ he asked.
‘yes,’ she turned to him and, without thinking of anything else, kissed him.
simply. naturally. no theatrical pause. no trembling hand.
the divorce went through surprisingly fast. sergey didn’t even show up at court. they didn’t split the assets. the apartment was already hers.
‘i still want to sell it,’ taisya told igor.
‘why?’
‘everything in there… is wrong. you know that feeling when things are the same but feel different?’
he nodded:
‘i know. after my divorce i sold everything. even a couch i never slept on.’
they found a new place for her—a small one-room apartment on the ninth floor in a new development. white walls, east-facing windows, no furniture. perfect for a fresh start.
‘do you like it?’ igor asked when they stepped into the empty room.
‘very much,’ taisya nodded. ‘there’s none of him here. not a trace.’
the move was quick. books, clothes, a few boxes of mementos—that was all she owned. not a single item tied to sergey. even the photos stayed boxed in the old place.
igor carried the last box up when night had already fallen.
‘all done,’ he said, looking around. ‘time to celebrate.’
they sat on the floor, drinking from paper cups, laughing about school days.
‘remember P.E. when…’ igor began.
‘no,’ she interrupted. ‘i don’t want to look back anymore. not at school, not at marriage. not at anything. only forward.’
he was silent, studying her face.
‘right. i like this taisya.’
‘me too,’ she smiled. ‘i didn’t even like myself before, but now—yes.’
igor leaned closer:
‘i’ve always liked you.’
she took his hand, interlaced her fingers with his.
‘to be honest, in school i never thought of you. but now i think of you. a lot. and it feels good.’
and they sat there until late.
igor began gathering himself when the clock read eleven.
‘i have work tomorrow,’ he explained. ‘thanks for tonight. congratulations on your housewarming.’
‘don’t you want to stay?’ taisya asked him directly.
he looked surprised:
‘there’s barely anything here.’
‘there’s a mattress,’ she shrugged. ‘is that not enough?’
and he stayed. with no awkward questions, no second thoughts.
for the first time in years she allowed herself simply to do what she wanted. without looking back. without fear. and it seemed luck was on her side.
