Marina stood in the middle of the empty room, inhaling the smell of old wallpaper and dust. Her mother’s apartment felt both familiar and strange — the same worn parquet floors, the same high ceilings with moldings, but without her mother’s things, without her voice coming from the kitchen; the space seemed to have lost its soul.
“Well, have you decided yet?” Alexey leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “Will you look for a designer, or handle it yourself?”
“I don’t know yet,” Marina ran her hand over the windowsill, gathering a thin layer of dust. “Maybe at first just freshen up the walls, change the plumbing. It’ll be fine for renting as is.”
Alexey was silent, staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling. There was something else in his gaze — not just tiredness from the long renovation talks.
“Lyosh, what’s wrong?” Marina turned to her husband. After fifteen years of marriage, she had learned to read his moods in the smallest details: how he held his shoulders, how he avoided direct eye contact.
“Just thinking,” he sighed, stepping away from the door and sitting on the windowsill. “You know, Olya’s turning forty soon.”
“I know. I’ve already picked out a gift, by the way. A nice throw and a spa certificate.”
“Marin, what if…” Alexey hesitated as if choosing his words carefully. “What if we give her something more… substantial?”
Marina felt her chest tighten. Her husband’s tone, his hesitation — all foreshadowed a conversation she did not want to have.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, think about it. She’s already forty, alone with a child, living with her mother in a two-room apartment. Misha’s already twelve, he needs his own room. And here’s such an opportunity…”
“Lyosha,” Marina’s voice grew cautious, “say it straight.”
“Let’s give your mother’s apartment to my sister. You have somewhere to live.”
The words hung in the air like cold fog. Marina felt the ground slip from beneath her feet.
“You… seriously?”
“Very seriously. Think logically: we only need the apartment for income, but Olya needs it to live. She has a son growing up, she needs her own place. We’re not struggling financially.”
Marina slowly sat down on the old stool left from her mother’s kitchen. Fragments of thoughts flashed through her mind, but they all shattered against one fact: her husband was suggesting she give away her mother’s inheritance.
“Lyosh, that’s my mother’s apartment. She left it to me. Not to us — to me.”
“So what? We’re family. My sister is also your relative.”
“A relative, but not my mother’s daughter!” Marina’s voice wavered. “Mom saved for this apartment her whole life. She worked two jobs, denied herself everything. She wanted me to have a safety cushion.”
“Safety cushion?” Alexey stood up from the windowsill, metallic notes creeping into his voice. “We have our own apartment, good jobs. What safety? But Olya really needs it.”
“Olya needs to solve her own problems! Why should I give up my inheritance for her?”
“Because you’re not a stranger to her!” Alexey raised his voice. “Because she has a child, and you don’t! Because she has nowhere to go, and you can afford to be generous!”
The last phrase struck Marina like a slap. The topic of children was always painful — they had tried for many years but nothing worked out. And now her husband was reproaching her with it.
“Oh, so that’s it!” Marina jumped up from the stool. “Because I don’t have children, I’m not entitled to inheritance? Because I couldn’t give birth to a nephew for a cousin’s little brother, I have to give the apartment to his mother?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“That’s exactly what I mean!” Marina felt tears rise to her eyes. “You think because Olya has a son and I don’t, her rights are automatically more important than mine.”
“Marin, calm down. I’m just thinking about fairness.”
“Fairness?” Marina laughed bitterly. “It would be fair if Olya took care of her own future instead of counting on handouts from relatives.”
“Handouts?” Now Alexey was angry. “She’s my sister! She raises her child alone, works to exhaustion.”
“So now everyone has to help her? I work too, by the way. We paid off the mortgage for thirteen years, denied ourselves vacations, new clothes. And now, when I have a chance to get extra income, you suggest giving it away.”
Alexey paced the room, rubbing the back of his neck — a gesture betraying his extreme irritation.
“You speak like some… owner.”
“I am the owner! This is MY apartment! My inheritance!” Marina felt a storm inside. “And you know what? While you hand out my property left and right, I’ll find a construction crew. Renovations start here in a month.”
She headed for the exit, but Alexey blocked her way.
“We’re not done talking yet.”
“We are. I’ve said everything I think.”
“Marina, be reasonable. Think not only about yourself.”
“I am thinking about more than myself. I’m thinking about us. About our future. That renting this apartment will give us an extra thirty to forty thousand a month. We’ll be able to save, travel, live better.”
“And Olya doesn’t deserve a better life?”
“She does. But on her own account, not mine.”
Alexey stepped aside, and Marina walked past him to the door. In the hallway, she turned back:
“And yes, Lyosh. Next time, before you plan the fate of my inheritance, consult me. Otherwise, it looks like you’ve already decided everything, and I’m left only to agree.”
The apartment door shut with a dull thud.
For the next two weeks, the house was filled with tension, dense and suffocating like the air before a storm. Marina and Alexey only talked about trivial household things — who’s going to the store, who’s picking up dry cleaning. Every evening at dinner, awkward silence hung, broken only by the TV sounds.
Marina found a construction crew and ordered materials. Alexey pretended it didn’t concern him, but she noticed how he frowned when she talked on the phone with the foreman or flipped through tile catalogs.
“Do you know what she’s planning?” Alexey asked his mother when they visited her.
Galina Mikhailovna, a practical and straightforward woman, listened carefully to her son, occasionally glancing at the silent daughter-in-law.
“Lyosha, have you thought about how Olya will feel about this?” she finally asked. “Maybe she doesn’t want your gifts?”
“Mom, she has no choice. She needs housing.”
“Everyone has a choice, son. And Marina’s right — it’s her inheritance. If my mother left me an apartment, I would think twice before giving it away to strangers.”
Alexey looked at his mother in surprise. He had expected support.
“But it’s really hard for Olya…”
“It is hard for Olya, yes. But that doesn’t mean all relatives should solve her problems. She has hands, a head, a profession. Let her work.”
Marina looked gratefully at her mother-in-law. Throughout the marriage, Galina Mikhailovna had been fair to her, making no distinction between daughter-in-law and daughter.
“Mom, you don’t understand…”
“I understand more than you think,” Galina Mikhailovna interrupted him. “I understand that you want to help your sister. That’s commendable. But not at someone else’s expense.”
On the way home, the couple was silent the entire way. Only when Alexey parked by their building did Marina quietly say:
“Your mother is a wise woman.”
“She doesn’t know all the circumstances,” Alexey grumbled.
“She knows enough to understand you’re doing wrong.”
Olya’s birthday was celebrated at a café near the house. The whole family gathered: the birthday girl with her son Misha, Galina Mikhailovna, Marina with Alexey, and several of Olya’s work friends.
Olya looked tired but happy. Forty is an age to sum up life, and she seemed content with what she had. A job at a bank, though not well-paid, gave stability. Misha was growing into an obedient and smart boy. Her mother helped with both the grandson and household chores.
“You know, Olechka,” one friend said, raising a glass of champagne, “I really respect you. Not everyone would have managed like you.”
“Oh, come on,” Olya waved her hand. “What’s so special? I live as life goes.”
“The special thing is that you didn’t break,” the friend continued. “After the divorce, many give up, but you raised your son, work, and look great.”
Olya smiled shyly. Marina watched her sister-in-law and thought how strange everything was arranged. Olya really managed. Maybe not in luxury, but self-sufficient. Why did Alexey decide she definitely needed help?
By the end of the evening, after enough champagne was drunk and everyone relaxed, Alexey suddenly said:
“Olya, I wanted to give you something. Not just a gift, but…” He looked at Marina, who felt her heart drop, “real support. Marina has an apartment that she inherited from her mother. I suggested giving it to you, but…” He sighed heavily, “my wife is against it.”
A dead silence fell. Everyone at the table stared at Alexey, then at Marina. Olya turned pale.
“Lyosh, what are you doing?” Marina whispered.
“I’m telling the truth. I think Olya should know she has a brother willing to help.”
Olya slowly put her glass down. Her eyes showed confusion, shame, and something else.
“Lyosha,” she started quietly, “are you completely crazy?”
“What?”
“You’re sitting here telling everyone you wanted to give me someone else’s apartment? Making your wife look bad in front of people?”
“I’m not making her look bad, I just…”
“Shut up!” Olya raised her voice, and everyone at nearby tables turned around. “Shut up immediately!”
She stood up from the table, walked over to Marina, and sat beside her.
“Marinka, dear, please forgive him. He’s a complete idiot.”
Marina felt her hands tremble. Public discussion of their family problems was a nightmare for her.
“Olya, it’s not your fault…”
“Of course not!” Olya took her hand. “And it’s not your fault either. The culprit is this… this benefactor.”
She turned to her brother:
“Do you even realize what you’re doing? First, it’s Marina’s apartment, not yours. You have no right to dispose of it. Second, who asked you to save me?”
“But Olya, it’s hard for you…”
“I’m fine!” Olya slammed her fist on the table. “I have a job, a roof over my head, a mother who helps with Misha. I don’t need your handouts!”
“These aren’t handouts, they are…”
“Exactly handouts!” Olya stood up. “You decided that because I’m a single mother, I’m automatically miserable and poor. But that’s not true! I manage, do you understand? I manage on my own!”
Misha, who had been quietly sitting with a tablet, looked up:
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, son. Uncle Lyosha just said something silly.”
Olya sat down again, took her son’s hand:
“Mish, do we live well with grandma?”
“Yes!” the boy nodded. “Grandma cooks tasty food, and she helps me with math.”
“See,” Olya turned to Alexey. “We’re fine. Misha grows up loved, he has his own room, friends in the yard. Why do I need someone else’s apartment?”
“But it’s not someone else’s, it’s family…”
“Lyosha, stop it!” Galina Mikhailovna intervened. “I told you at home: don’t meddle in other people’s business.”
“Mom, but…”
“No buts!” Galina Mikhailovna stood up from the table. “Olya is right. Marina is right. And you behave like a complete fool.”
She hugged her daughter-in-law:
“Marinochka, forgive him. Sometimes men think they know how everyone should live.”
Marina felt something release inside. Family support was very important to her.
“Olya,” she said quietly, “I’m not greedy. It’s just… this is all I have left from my mother.”
“Of course you’re not greedy,” Olya squeezed her hand firmly. “You have every right to do whatever you want with your inheritance. Want to rent it out — rent it out. Want to live there yourself — live there. Want to sell it — sell it. That’s YOUR choice.”
“But if you ever need help…”
“I’ll ask. Definitely will ask. But first I’ll try to manage myself, okay?”
Marina nodded, feeling tears well up.
Alexey sat red-faced, realizing he had made a complete fool of himself. His attempt to appear generous turned into a public scandal.
“Lyosh,” Olya looked at her brother sadly, “I love you very much. But next time, before planning my life, ask me if I need your help. Agreed?”
He nodded without looking up.
On the way home, they were silent for a long time. Finally, Alexey said:
“Forgive me.”
Marina looked out the window at the passing houses.
“For what exactly?”
“For everything. For deciding for you. For airing our problems publicly. For reproaching you about children.”
Marina turned to her husband. His profile showed tiredness and remorse.
“Lyosh, you understand that I wouldn’t mind helping Olya if she really needed it?”
“I understand. Now I do.”
“It just hurt that you didn’t even consult me. Like my opinion didn’t matter.”
“It matters. Very much. I was an idiot.”
Marina reached out and touched his shoulder.
“Do you know what surprised me most today?”
“What?”
“How Olya reacted. She wasn’t offended by me, didn’t demand the apartment. On the contrary, she defended my right to it.”
“She’s a strong woman.”
“Yes. And independent. Maybe it’s time to stop thinking she’s helpless?”
Alexey nodded.
They arrived home in a calmer mood. On the stairwell, Marina stopped:
“Lyosh, do you know what I decided?”
“What?”
“When I finish renovating my mother’s apartment and start renting it out, I’ll put some money into a special account. In case someone in the family really needs help. Olya, Misha, your mother, my relatives.”
Alexey smiled:
“That’s a good idea.”
“But we’ll decide together when and whom to help. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Outside, the April day was fading. The apartment was warm and cozy. Renovations in her mother’s apartment would start tomorrow, bringing new worries and tasks. But today, for the first time in a long while, Marina felt she was standing on solid ground. On her own ground.
