Lena stood by the kitchen window, looking at the gray apartment blocks outside, mentally counting down the months until the mortgage was paid off. Four more years — and this two-room flat in the residential district would fully belong to her and Andrey. Four years of monthly payments of thirty-eight thousand rubles, four years of strict budgeting on everything except the bare essentials.
“Len, want some coffee?” Andrey called from the other room.
“I will,” she replied, still gazing out the window.
They had been working together for five years to earn this apartment. She was an economist at a trading company, he was a sales manager. They saved every penny for the down payment, denying themselves vacations, entertainment, new clothes. When they finally got the keys, Lena cried right there in the empty hallway. Owning their own apartment was like a dream that had finally come true.
The phone rang sharply, breaking the morning silence.
“Yelena Viktorovna? This is notary Petrova. I have good news for you.”
Lena listened, hardly believing her ears. Aunt Zina, the sister of her late mother, with whom they had hardly communicated, had left her a one-room apartment in the city center as inheritance. Not the biggest, but in a good neighborhood, in a Stalin-era building.
“Andrey!” she called out when the call ended. “You won’t believe it!”
Her husband rushed out of the room, holding a cup of coffee, his hair tousled, a look of bewilderment on his face.
“What happened?”
“I got an apartment! Inherited it! From Aunt Zina!”
Andrey put the cup on the table and hugged his wife.
“Seriously? That’s great! So, we can sell this one, pay off the mortgage, and move to the center?”
“Or we could rent it out and stay here ourselves. That would bring in good income.”
“Or maybe sell both and buy something bigger?”
They talked late into the night, making plans. Lena felt happy — finally, they had options, financial freedom, the ability to choose.
A week later, while the inheritance paperwork was in full swing, they went to see the apartment. One room, but spacious, with high ceilings and big windows. It needed renovation, but the potential was huge.
“Such a beauty,” Lena sighed, standing in the empty room. “Imagine the design possibilities here…”
“My mom called today,” Andrey suddenly said, examining the old wallpaper. “I told her about the apartment.”
“And what did she say?”
“She was happy for us. Said they’d come by this weekend to see it.”
Lena nodded, though something stirred uneasily inside her. Her mother-in-law, Galina Petrovna, was a strong-willed and categorical woman. She always had an opinion on everything and wasn’t shy about expressing it. And father-in-law Nikolai Ivanovich simply agreed with whatever his wife said.
On Saturday, Andrey’s parents arrived early. Galina Petrovna was in full command mode—immediately taking charge.
“Show us the apartment right away,” she demanded, not even properly greeting Lena. “We need to see what’s what.”
The three of them went together—Lena stayed home, citing chores. In reality, she just didn’t want to listen to her mother-in-law’s comments on how to manage her inheritance.
They returned two hours later. Galina Petrovna was excited and spoke nonstop.
“Good apartment, great location. Needs repairs, of course, but that’s fixable. Your father and I have thought it over—we’ll give it to Irochka.”
Lena flinched.
“Give it to whom?”
“How else?” the mother-in-law was surprised. “She has two kids, Seryozhka can’t find a proper job, they pay loans and rent. And you’re young and healthy, you can earn more. Irochka needs help more.”
“But it’s my inheritance,” Lena said quietly.
“So what? It’s family! Irochka is struggling, and you’re just enjoying yourselves. That’s not right.”
Andrey remained silent, studying the cracks in the parquet.
“We haven’t decided what to do with the apartment yet,” Lena tried to object.
“What is there to think about? It’s clear. Tomorrow we’ll go to Irochka’s and tell her she can move in.”
“Galina Petrovna, let Andrey and me think it over…”
“There’s nothing to think about!” the mother-in-law cut her off. “Andrey, why are you silent? Tell your wife what the right thing to do is.”
Andrey looked at Lena, pleading for understanding.
“Len, maybe mom is right? Irka really is in a tough spot…”
“And what about us?!” Lena couldn’t hold back. “We have a mortgage!”
“The mortgage is nothing,” Galina Petrovna waved her hand. “You both have good salaries, you’ll manage. But Irochka is suffering with the kids.”
Lena felt everything boiling inside her. No one asked her, no one consulted with her—they had already decided everything for her.
“I want to discuss this with my husband privately,” she said as calmly as she could.
“Discuss away,” the mother-in-law nodded. “Just don’t take too long. Irochka needs to notify her landlord.”
When the parents left, Lena and Andrey were alone. He avoided her gaze, fiddling with his phone.
“Well?” Lena asked. “Shall we discuss it?”
“What is there to discuss?” Andrey shrugged. “Mom is right. Irka needs help.”
“Don’t you want to hear what I think?”
“Len, don’t be selfish. Think about the kids, the family.”
“What family? Your sister, who’s been leeching off you for five years? Who asks for money every month and never pays it back?”
“It’s not her fault her husband is a loser.”
“And it’s not my fault that my aunt died and left me an apartment! It’s my inheritance, Andrey!”
“Ours,” he corrected. “We’re family.”
“Then why is the decision made without me?”
They argued fiercely that evening. Andrey went to his parents and returned late, after Lena had fallen asleep. In the morning, he tried to make peace, but the conversation again boiled down to Lena needing to think about the family and not be so greedy.
Several more days passed. Lena hoped her husband would come to his senses and understand her position. But Andrey grew colder. At work, she struggled to concentrate—the thoughts kept returning to the situation.
On Thursday evening, Andrey came home late.
“Where were you?” Lena asked.
“At my sister’s. Helping with the move.”
Lena didn’t understand at first.
“What move?”
“Well, what move? To your apartment. Mom took the keys yesterday, I gave them to her.”
Lena’s world rocked. She sat down on the couch to keep from falling.
“You gave the keys to my apartment? Without my permission?”
“Len, don’t be so childish. We discussed everything.”
“We didn’t discuss anything! You decided for me!”
“Irka has already moved out of the old apartment. She has kids, where else could they go?”
“That’s not my problem!” Lena shouted. “It’s my apartment!”
“Our apartment.”
“No, mine! My aunt left it to me! I have the right to decide what to do with it!”
The next day after work, Lena went downtown. She saw the lights on in the windows and realized Irina was really living there. She went upstairs and rang the doorbell.
Irina opened the door—a thin blonde with a perpetually unhappy expression.
“Lena?” she was surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my apartment,” Lena said quietly. “I want to see what’s going on.”
“Oh yes, of course, come in. We’re trying to settle in. Thank you so much, you’re our savior!”
Lena went inside. The apartment was cluttered with boxes, children’s toys, and belongings. Children’s drawings already hung on the walls. Her nephew Seryozhka, seven years old, ran out of the room shouting, “Aunt Lena!”
“We’re so happy,” Irina said bustling around. “You know how kids rejoice? Finally, our own apartment! Seryozha has already enrolled in the new school nearby, it’s very good.”
Lena listened and understood that there was no turning back. The children were settled, with a new school, a new life. To evict them now would be to become a monster in the eyes of the whole family.
“And where’s Seryozha’s dad?” she asked about Irina’s husband.
“At work,” Irina replied vaguely. “Now he has time to find a proper job; no need to spend a fortune on rent.”
Lena realized Irina’s husband was again unemployed, and Irina would support the whole family on her sales assistant salary.
She returned home near hysteria. Andrey was sitting in front of the TV, eating dumplings.
“I was at your sister’s,” Lena said.
“Well? Did you get settled?”
“Andrey, I want a divorce.”
He choked on a dumpling, started coughing.
“What are you saying?”
“What I’m saying. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Because of the apartment? Len, you’re crazy!”
“Not because of the apartment. Because no one in this family considers me. Including you.”
“Len, wait, let’s talk…”
“What’s there to talk about? You’ve already decided everything. For me. Without me.”
“I thought you’d understand…”
“I do. I understand that your mother’s opinion matters more to you than your wife’s. That you’re ready to give my property to strangers without asking me.”
“Irka is not a stranger!”
“To me, she is! I barely know her! We’ve met maybe five times in all our years of marriage!”
They shouted late into the night. Andrey tried to persuade her, then threatened, then tried again. But Lena was firm.
The next weekend, Andrey’s parents came. When they learned of Lena’s intentions, Galina Petrovna flew into a rage.
“Are you out of your mind?” she shouted. “Ready to ruin a family over some apartment?”
“It’s not about the apartment,” Lena repeated tiredly. “It’s about you treating me like I’m nothing.”
“We considered you family!”
“Then why didn’t you consult me?”
“What’s there to consult? You wouldn’t understand what’s right anyway!”
“This is my apartment, and I won’t give it to those parasites! Get out of here!” Lena snapped.
Galina Petrovna gasped in outrage.
“You called children parasites! You yourself are a parasite! Feeding off our son!”
“Mom, stop!” Andrey intervened, but it was too late.
“I’m leaving your son,” Lena said coldly. “And I’ll get the apartment back through the court. It’s my property, and no one has the right to dispose of it without my consent.”
“You do realize you’ll be throwing the kids out on the street?” her father-in-law tried to reason with her.
“Did you realize you were depriving me of the right to dispose of my own inheritance?”
The divorce was difficult. Andrey tried through acquaintances and mutual friends to influence Lena, to convince her to reconsider. But she was firm in her decision.
She got the apartment back through the court. It turned out that Irina had no legal grounds to live there—the gift agreement had not been drawn up, Lena had signed no documents. The judge quickly understood the situation and ordered Irina and her family to vacate the premises.
Irina cried, begged for another month to find housing. Lena gave two weeks.
“You’re cruel,” Andrey said when he came to collect his things from their shared apartment. “You kicked the kids out.”
“I didn’t kick anyone out. I returned what rightfully belongs to me.”
“They are family!”
“And was I not family? When you decided for me?”
He had no answer.
Lena sold the inherited apartment and used the money to pay off the mortgage early. Now the two-room flat in the residential area fully belonged to her. She renovated it, decorated it to her taste, and got a cat.
Sometimes in the evenings she felt sad. Seven years of marriage is not a short time. But then she remembered the day she found out her property had been disposed of without her, and she knew she had done the right thing.
Six months later, Andrey married a colleague. Lena found out by chance, meeting his ex-girlfriend in a store.
“He got over it quickly,” the friend said.
“That’s good,” Lena replied. “That means I was right—he never truly loved me.”
Irina and the children moved back to Andrey’s parents. The mother-in-law’s two-room apartment was cramped for a family of five, but there was no other choice. Galina Petrovna now complained to everyone about the cruel former daughter-in-law who kicked the children out on the street.
Lena no longer communicated with those people. She understood the main thing—no one should be allowed to decide your life for you, even the closest people. Especially the closest people.
Your own apartment, freedom of choice, the right to say “no” — that turned out to be more valuable than family peace and relatives’ approval. And Lena regretted nothing.
