Marina shoved the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and turned on the express-wash mode. The Friday dinner had been a success: Igor devoured her signature mushroom pie with gusto. Even Nastya, who always wrinkled her nose at any dish “that upstart” cooked—as she called Marina behind her back—ate two slices.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Igor called from the hallway. “We’ve got football with the guys tomorrow; I need a good night’s sleep.”
“Go on,” Marina waved her hand and began wiping down the countertop.
Nastya sat in the living room, glued to her phone. She had arrived the night before—just like always, without warning, with a mountain of shopping bags and her usual sour expression. “Just here for the weekend,” as always.
“Want some tea?” Marina asked, poking her head through the doorway.
“No,” Nastya snapped without looking up from the screen.
Marina shrugged and went back to the kitchen. She was used to this kind of treatment by now. Three years of marriage had taught her not to react to her sister-in-law’s jabs. Igor always said, “Nastyukha’s prickly, but she comes around. Don’t take it to heart.”
The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Marina turned on the kettle and opened the upper cupboard to grab her favorite mug. Then she heard Nastya’s voice from the living room:
“Mom, how are you? Yeah, I’m at their place… No, she cooked her crap again… Listen, I spoke to the lawyer.”
Marina froze with the mug in her hand. Nastya lowered her voice to a whisper, but in the quiet apartment the words carried clearly into the kitchen.
“Yes, through the court… Since the apartment came from Grandma to Igor, not both of them… No, that fool doesn’t even know she can be taken off the registration… Igor will sign anything if you ask him the right way…”
The mug slipped from Marina’s fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering.
“What’s going on in there?” Nastya’s voice instantly got louder.
“Dropped a mug,” Marina managed to reply, feeling ice spread inside her.
The apartment… The three-bedroom in the center where she and Igor had lived for three years. A gift from his grandmother. “For the young couple,” the old woman had said back then. And now this snake wanted to have her thrown out?
“As always,” Nastya appeared in the kitchen doorway. “All thumbs, aren’t you.”
“Sorry, got distracted,” Marina bent down to collect the shards, glad Nastya couldn’t see her face.
“Why are you making a mess? Grab a dustpan.”
Marina obediently fetched the dustpan and brush. Her hands were shaking.
“What are you trembling for?” Nastya squinted. “You dropped it, big deal.”
“I… just got startled,” Marina lied.
“Ah, right. Our delicate little flower,” Nastya snorted and went back to the living room.
In Marina’s head one thought kept spinning: They want to kick me out. Out of my own home. That’s why Nastya suddenly came…
Igor came out of the bathroom, whistling some tune.
“Oh, you smashed a mug?” he smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll buy ten more like it.”
“Yeah,” Marina forced a smile.
Igor kissed the top of her head and went into the bedroom.
That night Marina didn’t sleep a wink. Igor snored peacefully beside her while she stared at the ceiling, thinking. Tell her husband? But he adored his sister and always defended her. Complain to her mother-in-law? She was clearly in on it with Nastya! She had never been warm toward Marina, though she tried to hide it.
I have to do something myself, Marina decided by dawn. But what?
In the morning, Marina jumped out of bed first and tiptoed to the kitchen. Her hands trembled so much she missed the coffee cup twice with the spoon.
“Okay, calm down,” she whispered to herself. “Think.”
Her gaze fell on a lawyer’s business card lying on the fridge since last month. Sergey Valentinovich had helped their neighbor with property division. Marina grabbed her phone.
“Good morning! Is this Sergey Valentinovich? This is Marina Kotova, Olga Petrovna’s neighbor.”
She spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, glancing constantly at the door.
“I urgently need a consultation. Can it be today? At one? Perfect!”
Igor shuffled into the kitchen, sleepy, a pillow crease on his cheek.
“Morning,” he leaned in for a kiss. “Why are you up so early?”
“Oh, just woke up,” Marina looked away. “Igor, I’m going to visit a friend today, okay? Haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Which friend?”
“Lenka,” she blurted the first name that came to mind.
“Ah, sure,” he yawned. “I’m taking Nastya to the movies. She asked yesterday.”
Of course she did, Marina thought, but said nothing.
The lawyer’s office smelled of coffee and paper. Sergey Valentinovich, a balding man in glasses, listened attentively.
“So, the apartment’s from your husband’s grandmother… Are you registered there?”
“Yes, right after the wedding.”
“And whose name is on the deed?”
“Sorry?”
“Well, the ownership document. Deed of gift? Will?”
Marina blinked blankly.
“I don’t know… Igor handled everything.”
The lawyer sighed.
“Here’s what you need to do, Marina. First, find out who legally owns the apartment. If it’s only your husband—you’ve got a problem. If it’s both of you—his sister can’t touch you.”
“How do I find out?”
“Request an extract through the government services portal or at the municipal office. Do it today.”
Marina came home with a clear plan. In the hallway she stumbled over Nastya’s shoes.
“Oh, you’re back!” Nastya came out of the kitchen. “Where’ve you been? We lost you.”
“At a friend’s,” Marina tried to keep her voice steady.
“We went to the movies with Igor,” Nastya smirked, leaning against the wall. “Little bro never grows up—picked those stupid action flicks again.”
Marina walked past with a nod. In the bedroom she closed the door and pulled out her phone. Quickly found the government services site, ordered an ownership extract. Paid. Now just to wait.
That evening, when Igor was asleep and Nastya holed up in the guest room, Marina checked her email. The extract had arrived. With trembling fingers she opened the file.
“Owner: Sokolov Igor Alekseevich.”
Marina gasped. So Nastya was right—legally, the apartment was only his. And she was just registered there. Fear gave way to anger. Not a chance!
In the morning, while everyone slept, Marina called the lawyer again.
“Sergey Valentinovich, here’s the situation…”
“Listen carefully,” the lawyer interrupted. “Have you been registered there over three years?”
“Almost three.”
“Excellent. Then you have a right of use. Plus everything bought during marriage—from furniture to appliances—is joint property. And if you can prove you contributed to renovations…”
“We renovated! I kept all the receipts,” Marina remembered.
“Then you’ve got a good case. Gather all documents. And most importantly—don’t sign anything your husband or his relatives give you.”
“Thank you!”
“And Marina, you should tell your husband…”
Marina sighed. “Not sure he’ll take my side.”
The next two days Marina walked as if through a minefield. She smiled, cooked, pretended all was fine. Meanwhile she gathered evidence: all the receipts for furniture, appliances, renovations. Bank statements showing transfers for materials. Scanned the marriage contract that clearly stated jointly acquired property.
On Monday Nastya announced she was staying another week.
“I suddenly got vacation,” she smiled sweetly at her brother. “You wouldn’t kick out your own sister, right?”
“Stay as long as you want!” Igor laughed.
Marina clenched her teeth in silence.
That evening she overheard Nastya whispering on the phone again:
“Mom, everything’s going according to plan… Yes, I’ll stay longer… No, that idiot suspects nothing… The papers are almost ready… Igor will sign, he has no choice…”
Marina’s blood boiled. Not so fast, darling.
The next day she took a day off and went to the notary. Then the municipal office. By evening she had a full folder of documents and a clear plan.
“Honey, maybe we should invite your parents this weekend?” she casually asked Igor over dinner. “It’s been a while since we all got together.”
Nastya snapped her head up, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Great idea!” Igor lit up. “Nastyukha, Mom will be thrilled you’re here too.”
“Of course,” Nastya muttered through her teeth. “I’m all for it.”
On Saturday Marina cooked from early morning. Frying, baking, stewing—she gave it her all. The last family dinner, she thought bitterly, chopping vegetables.
By six the table was groaning with food. Igor’s parents arrived—Alexei Petrovich and Vera Sergeevna. As usual, her mother-in-law gave Marina an appraising look.
“You look good, Marina dear,” she said with feigned warmth.
“Thank you,” Marina smiled back. “Come in, have a seat.”
Once everyone sat and started eating, Igor raised his glass:
“To family! To all of us together!”
“To family,” Marina echoed, taking a sip.
Nastya caught her gaze and smirked faintly. Not for long, Marina thought.
“By the way,” Marina said loudly, “I need to discuss something.”
All eyes turned to her.
“Igor, I accidentally overheard Nastya talking to your mom a couple days ago.”
Silence fell. Nastya turned pale.
“What are you talking about?” Igor frowned.
“That your sister and mom are planning to convince you to transfer the apartment solely to yourself and deregister me. Throw me out on the street.”
“What nonsense!” Vera Sergeevna protested. “Igor, your wife’s gone mad!”
“Marin, what is this?” Igor looked confusedly between his wife, sister, and mother.
“I heard everything,” Marina said firmly. “Word for word. Nastya said: ‘That fool doesn’t even know she can be deregistered,’ and Igor ‘will sign anything if you ask him right.’”
Nastya leapt up: “You were eavesdropping on my calls?!”
“I overheard while cleaning the kitchen,” Marina retorted. “But that’s not the point. The point is you want to kick me out of my own home.”
“Your home?” Vera Sergeevna interjected. “The apartment belongs to Igor! Grandma gave it to him!”
“Marinka, this is some nonsense,” Igor took his wife’s hand. “No one’s throwing you out.”
Nastya and Vera exchanged glances.
“Here’s a folder,” Marina pulled out the prepared documents. “Everything you need to know is in here.”
Igor opened it, flipping through.
“What is all this?” he asked, bewildered.
“Receipts for all the furniture, appliances, and renovations in our apartment,” Marina pointed to the first stack. “Bank statements—half the expenses are mine. And this,” she pulled out a separate file, “is the lawyer’s statement about my housing rights.”
Nastya turned ghostly pale.
“You went to a lawyer?” she hissed.
“Of course. As soon as I heard your plans,” Marina straightened. “I won’t let myself be thrown out of a home I’ve considered mine for three years, invested money and effort into.”
Igor looked up from the documents.
“Wait… Nastya, Mom, is this true? You actually planned this?”
Vera Sergeevna gave a nervous laugh: “Igoryok, don’t be silly! We were just discussing…”
“Discussing what exactly?” Marina cut her off. “How best to deceive your son?”
“Don’t you talk to my mother like that!” Nastya exploded.
“And you don’t plot how to kick me out of my own home!” Marina raised her voice too.
“Quiet!” Igor slammed his fist on the table. “Nastya, is it true?”
Nastya pressed her lips tight: “We just wanted to protect your interests. You never know…”
“You never know what?” Igor’s face flushed with anger. “I’ve been married to Marina for three years! We renovated together, bought furniture together!”
“Son, but the apartment is Grandma’s,” Vera tried. “She gave it to you, not both of you.”
“So what?! Does that give you the right to decide behind my back how I manage my property?”
Alexei Petrovich, who had been silent until now, shook his head: “Vera, Nastya, what are you doing? He’s right. This is ugly.”
“Dad, you don’t understand!” Nastya flailed. “What if they get divorced? She’ll sue for half!”
“So you were preparing for our divorce?” Igor asked quietly, staring at his sister.
Nastya bit her tongue. Silence.
“You know what,” Marina gathered the documents back into the folder. “I’ve already filed for determination of my share of this apartment as jointly acquired property. With all the investments, it’s at least 30%. If you want a war—fine, but I won’t give up what’s mine.”
“Marinka…” Igor rubbed his temples. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
“Would you have believed me?” she smiled sadly. “You always say Nastya would never deceive you.”
Igor looked at his sister and mother differently now.
“I want you both to leave,” he said quietly. “Now.”
“Igoryok!” Vera gasped.
“Leave!” he repeated louder. “I need to talk to my wife.”
Nastya grabbed her bag and bolted out. Vera slowly stood, shot Marina a burning look, and headed for the door. Alexei lingered:
“Sorry, son. I didn’t know what they were planning.”
After they left, Igor sat across from Marina:
“Forgive me… I didn’t think they’d pull something like that.”
“And I didn’t think I’d have to defend myself from your family,” she replied softly.
A month later everything was officially settled. Marina became a co-owner of the apartment—her share was 40%. Igor insisted it be higher than the lawyer suggested.
Nastya stopped visiting. She rarely called, only her brother, and never asked about Marina. Vera was politely cold at family gatherings. Dinners were tense now.
One evening Igor hugged Marina:
“You know, I’m glad you turned out stronger and smarter than all of them. And that you didn’t let them fool you.”
“I just realized no one would fight for me except me,” she smiled. “Not even you.”
“That’ll never happen again,” he kissed her forehead. “I promise.”
Marina nodded. She no longer feared losing her roof over her head. And she knew for sure: she’d never let anyone decide her fate behind her back. Not her mother-in-law, not her sister-in-law. Not even her husband. From now on—only herself.
