Lena had always known the value of her apartment. Not in rubles, but in the meaning her late father put into it when he said, “Daughter, this is your fortress. As long as you have your own place, you don’t have to bow to anyone.” The two-room apartment on the fourth floor of a panel-built block in a bedroom community had come to Lena by inheritance three years earlier. At the time she had just married Kolya, and the young couple decided to live there.
At first, Kolya treated the apartment with respect. He did small repairs, bought new appliances, promised to replace the plumbing. But gradually his attitude changed. First he started complaining about the location—too far from work, poor transport. Then he began hinting that they could sell the place and buy something bigger in a better neighborhood.
“Len, be reasonable,” Kolya would say, sprawling on the couch after work. “Your apartment is fine, but you can’t sit here your whole life. We could take out a loan, add it to the money from the sale, and buy a three-room place.”
Lena only shook her head. The apartment wasn’t just housing—it was a memory of her father, his care passed on to his daughter. Selling an inheritance for doubtful prospects felt sacrilegious to her.
Over the past two years, things at home had changed noticeably. Kolya came home more and more often gloomy and irritable. When his wife asked direct questions, he replied evasively:
“Things are bad. There are layoffs at work. Projects are being shut down.”
Lena worked as a manager at a construction company and understood there was a crisis in their industry, but her husband flatly refused to discuss details. When she suggested they look for a new job together, check listings, Kolya waved her off:
“Don’t stick your nose where it’s not wanted. I’ll handle it myself.”
But he clearly wasn’t in a hurry to handle anything. Instead of job hunting, Kolya spent days at home, glued to the internet or hanging out with friends. Money was running out faster than usual, and when asked about the family budget, he reacted aggressively:
“Why are you on my case? It’s a temporary setback, things will get better soon!”
Several times Lena tried to get him to open up. She’d sit next to him, take his hand, and calmly suggest:
“Kolya, let’s think together about how to get out of this. Maybe we should talk to the bank, restructure the loans? Or look for a side job?”
Each time her husband turned away, muttered something about “female logic,” and went to smoke on the balcony. Lena understood that Kolya was hiding the real scale of the problems, but she didn’t want to force a confession. She hoped her husband would find the strength to deal with it himself.
Lately Kolya had been hinting more and more often about selling the apartment:
“Len, we could get good money. We’ll rent for a while, until things pick up.”
“And then what?” his wife objected. “Rent is more expensive than living in your own place. And who knows how long your ‘temporary setbacks’ will last?”
Kolya scowled but didn’t dare argue. For now.
On a September morning, as Lena was getting ready for work, the doorbell rang. On the threshold stood Galina Vasilyevna, her mother-in-law. A woman of about fifty-five, with teased hair and a determined expression, she walked into the hallway without an invitation.
“Hello, Lenochka. I’m here on an important matter.”
Lena raised her eyebrows in surprise. Her mother-in-law rarely showed up and always warned before visiting. This time, Galina Vasilyevna was clearly set on a serious conversation.
“Come into the kitchen, I’ll make tea,” the daughter-in-law offered, shrugging off her coat.
“I’ve no time for tea,” the mother-in-law waved her off, confidently heading for the kitchen. “This can’t wait.”
Kolya was at the kitchen table finishing his coffee. Seeing his mother, he visibly tensed but didn’t show it.
“Hi, Mom. What brings you?”
Galina Vasilyevna plopped down on the chair across from her son without even taking off her outerwear. She gave the kitchen an appraising look, then turned her attention to her daughter-in-law:
“Sit down, Lena. We’re going to have an adult conversation.”
Lena sat slowly, not understanding where this was going. Galina folded her hands on the table, assuming the posture of someone used to being listened to:
“Lena, be sensible! Sell your apartment—Kolya needs the money, he can’t cope without you!”
The words hit Lena like a jolt of electricity. She froze, blinking, not knowing how to react to such a statement. Her mother-in-law spoke so calmly and confidently, as if they were talking about buying bread, not selling the only home.
“What?” was all Lena could manage.
Galina sighed the way adults sigh when explaining something to a stubborn child:
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand. Kolya told me everything. The debts are big, the banks are demanding repayment. And your apartment is just sitting there—what’s the point of holding on to it?”
“How is it ‘just sitting there’?” Lena frowned and tilted her head, trying to process what she’d heard. “We live in it!”
“So you live there—so what?” her mother-in-law waved a hand. “You can find a rental. At least you’ll help my son pay off the loans. He’s the man; the responsibility for the family rests on him.”
Kolya had been silent this whole time, staring into his cup. Lena shot her husband a questioning look, but he didn’t raise his eyes. Blood rushed to her face—one thought spun in her head: the home her father had left her was about to be put on the auction block for someone else’s debts.
“Galina Vasilyevna,” Lena said slowly, striving to stay calm. “The apartment came to me by inheritance. It’s my home.”
“So what?” the mother-in-law shrugged. “You’re married. Your husband’s in trouble, and a wife should help. Or do you think your property matters more than your family’s well-being?”
Galina spoke as if explaining truisms. In her voice was the confidence of someone who allowed no objections.
“Mom,” Kolya finally spoke up, “maybe don’t be so categorical?”
“How else should I be?” she turned to her son. “You complained to me just yesterday that things are really bad. The banks are calling, interest is piling up. And here’s a ready solution—sell the apartment and close all the debts at once.”
Lena felt indignation boil inside her. So her husband and his mother had already discussed everything behind her back. No one had even asked her opinion.
“Kolya,” she turned to her husband, “do you really think I should sell my father’s apartment?”
He squirmed in his chair, avoiding her gaze:
“Len, I didn’t say you had to. It’s just… the situation is complicated.”
“Exactly!” his mother chimed in. “It’s complicated, and you’re only thinking about yourself. Don’t you feel sorry for your husband?”
Lena stood up from the table. Her hands trembled with anger, but she did her best to keep control:
“Galina Vasilyevna, let’s agree on this right now. My apartment is not a reserve fund for covering someone else’s debts.”
“What do you mean ‘someone else’s’?” the mother-in-law flared. “Kolya is your husband! His problems are your problems too!”
“His problems would be mine if my husband discussed them with me,” Lena shot back. “As it is, Kolya took out loans without asking me, got into debt without warning me, and now I’m supposed to pay for it with my home.”
Galina grimaced as if she had tasted something sour:
“My, how principled you are! Did you think you were marrying a rich man? A husband means not only joys but sharing sorrows, too.”
“Sharing sorrows—yes,” Lena agreed. “But for that, first you have to tell your wife there are sorrows to share. Not hide them to the last minute and then demand sacrifices.”
Kolya raised his head; confusion and guilt flickered in his eyes:
“Len, I didn’t want to upset you prematurely. I thought I’d manage on my own.”
“And now you’re not managing,” his wife stated. “And what then? Sell the apartment, rent a place with my money, and hope the debts don’t show up again?”
Her mother-in-law clicked her tongue in irritation:
“Lenochka, you’re talking like a child. Life happens. Today he helps you, tomorrow you help him. That’s what marriages are built on.”
“On mutual help—or on the wife selling her inheritance to cover a man’s debts?” Lena sat back down, arms crossed.
Galina pressed her lips together and exchanged a glance with her son. It was clear the conversation wasn’t going the way she had planned. She had expected her daughter-in-law to meekly agree to sell the apartment for the family’s sake.
“You’re stubborn,” Galina finally pronounced. “But stubbornness leads nowhere good. Think it over carefully, Lena. You’ll lose your husband—and you won’t find a new apartment.”
The threat was unmistakable. Lena straightened in her chair and looked her mother-in-law straight in the eye:
“And if I sell the apartment and Kolya runs up debts again, then what? Will he divorce me because there’s nothing left to sell?”
Kolya flinched as if struck:
“Len, what does divorce have to do with this? No one’s talking about divorce!”
“Your mother just said I’ll lose my husband if I don’t sell the apartment,” Lena replied evenly. “Or did I misunderstand?”
Galina flushed but didn’t back down:
“I’m telling it like it is. If a wife doesn’t support her husband in a tough moment, what good is she? Kolya is young and handsome; he’ll find a woman who appreciates him.”
Lena laughed, but the laugh had no mirth:
“I see. So ‘appreciating’ a husband means selling your only apartment to cover his debts. And if I refuse, Kolya has every right to find a more compliant wife. Do I have that logic right?”
Kolya jumped up, knocking over his chair:
“Mom, enough! Lena, I’m sorry—I didn’t ask her to put it that way!”
“But you did ask her to come and talk me into selling the apartment,” his wife said wearily. “Didn’t you?”
Her husband lowered his head, unable to find words. His silence was an answer.
Galina stood, adjusting her handbag:
“Fine. I’ve done my part—I’ve warned you. Just don’t say later that nobody warned you, Lenochka. Greed never ends well.”
Lena rose, squaring her shoulders. In that moment she realized she could no longer stay silent. Her father’s apartment wasn’t just four walls; it was a symbol of her independence and her future. To give up her inheritance for her husband’s debts would mean betraying her father’s memory and depriving herself of her last support.
“Galina Vasilyevna,” Lena said firmly, “the apartment is my property. Period. I will never sell it to anyone.”
Her mother-in-law stopped in the doorway and slowly turned. Her face twisted with indignation:
“Ungrateful girl! After all I’ve done for you, you won’t help my own son! What an egoist you are!”
“Help?” Lena clapped her hands, unable to hold back her overflowing emotions. “You call it help to deprive the family of a roof over its head for the sake of someone else’s loans? That’s a twisted kind of logic!”
Kolya leapt up, trying to step between his wife and mother:
“Len, calm down. Mom’s just worried about me.”
“Worried?” Lena turned to her husband. “Then let her worry with you and look for solutions, instead of demanding I sacrifice my inheritance!”
Galina swept back into the kitchen, waving her arms:
“See, Kolya? I told you—a wife should be ready to make sacrifices for the family! And this one only thinks of herself!”
“Of myself?” Lena laughed, but the sound was bitter. “I’m thinking about making sure we have a place to live! Because after selling the apartment we’ll be left without a roof, but with your loan history!”
Kolya tried to intervene, mumbling uncertainly:
“Well, Mom’s right that we could consider… renting for a while, until things improve…”
Lena spun toward her husband so sharply he involuntarily took a step back. Her eyes blazed:
“Enough!” she cut him off. “You knew perfectly well I would never sell my father’s apartment. But you kept quiet while your mother pressured me to sacrifice my inheritance for your secret debts!”
“Lena, I didn’t want—”
“Didn’t want what?” she interrupted. “Didn’t want to tell the truth about the loans? Didn’t want to look for work? Or didn’t want me to know you and your mother had already decided everything for me?”
Galina barged in again:
“What’s there to decide? Any normal wife would support her husband! Can’t you see how Kolya is suffering, how worried he is!”
“Suffering?” Lena turned to her mother-in-law. “If he’s suffering, maybe he should look for a job instead of demanding that his wife sell her only home?”
“It’s hard to find a job right now!” Galina protested.
“But it’s very easy to sell someone else’s apartment, right?” the daughter-in-law shot back.
Kolya slumped into a chair and buried his face in his hands:
“Len, I’m lost. I don’t know what to do.”
“I know,” his wife said calmly. “First, you’re going to tell me the whole truth about the debts. Then we’ll think together about how to pay them off without selling the apartment. And if you’re not ready for an honest conversation, then you can handle your problems yourself.”
Galina snorted:
“See, son? Your wife is setting conditions! In my day, wives supported their husbands—they didn’t haggle!”
“In your day, husbands didn’t hide serious financial problems from their wives,” Lena replied. “And they didn’t bring their mothers in to pressure them.”
Her mother-in-law grimaced, ready to say something else, but Lena raised a hand:
“Galina Vasilyevna, this conversation is over. The apartment remains my property, and no amount of persuasion will change that.”
“Fool!” the mother-in-law burst out. “You’ll end up alone with your precious apartment!”
“Better alone in my own home than together in a rental paid for with the proceeds from selling my inheritance,” Lena answered.
After her mother-in-law left, the spouses were silent for a long time. Kolya sat with his head down, and Lena stood at the window, thinking over what had happened. The conversation had revealed her husband’s true attitude toward marriage: to Kolya, his wife was more a resource for solving problems than an equal partner.
That evening Lena took out her phone and called a legal advice line. The consultant confirmed what she already knew: an apartment received by inheritance is separate property. The husband has no rights to it, even in the event of divorce. By law, inherited property is not subject to division between spouses.
“Tell me,” Lena asked, “what if my husband tries in some way to dispose of the apartment without my knowledge?”
“Impossible,” the lawyer assured her. “All real-estate transactions require the owner’s personal presence and notarization. Without your signature nothing can be done.”
The next morning Lena called a locksmith and changed the locks. Kolya had left early, saying he was meeting friends, so no one could interfere. She left her husband one set of keys, but gave the concierge clear instructions: none of Kolya’s relatives were to be allowed into the building without her personal permission.
“And if they insist?” the concierge asked.
“Call me or the police,” Lena replied. “My decision is final.”
Kolya came home late that evening. Finding that the old keys no longer worked, he started ringing the doorbell. Lena opened the door and handed him the new keys:
“Here. And remember: no one from your family comes in without my say-so.”
“Len, that’s my mother!” Kolya protested.
“Your mother demanded yesterday that I sell my home,” Lena reminded him. “After that, she has no place here.”
He wanted to argue, but seeing the resolute expression on his wife’s face, kept quiet. Kolya understood: Lena would no longer compromise.
Three days later, Galina showed up at the building again. The concierge, following Lena’s instructions, didn’t let her into the entrance. Furious, the woman caused a scene, demanding that the daughter-in-law be summoned at once. The concierge called Lena at work.
“Galina Vasilyevna is downstairs shouting, demanding to see you,” the concierge reported. “What should I do?”
“Call the precinct officer,” Lena said calmly. “Tell them a woman is disturbing the peace.”
When Lena returned home, a patrol car was parked by the entrance. Galina was loudly explaining to the police that the wicked daughter-in-law wouldn’t let the mother-in-law see her son. Kolya stood nearby, trying to calm his mother.
“Good evening,” Lena addressed the senior sergeant. “This is my apartment—here are the documents. This woman is trying to enter against my will.”
The officer studied the papers and nodded:
“Understood. Ma’am,” he turned to the mother-in-law, “the owner has the right to decide whom to admit. Stop disturbing the peace.”
“How can that be?!” Galina wailed. “My son lives there!”
“Your son is an adult and can make his own decisions,” the sergeant said patiently. “And the owner has the right to restrict access to any person.”
“But I’m his mother!”
“That doesn’t give you the right to enter someone else’s apartment,” the officer cut her off.
Galina realized the law was on her daughter-in-law’s side. She shot Lena a look full of hatred and grabbed her son by the sleeve:
“Kolya, let’s go! Do you see what’s happening? She’s throwing your own mother out!”
“Mom, calm down,” Kolya mumbled. “We’ll talk at home.”
“There’s no talking to her!” Galina fumed. “She’s greedy and heartless!”
Lena watched her mother-in-law and husband walk away, thanked the police, and went upstairs. Locking the door with every lock, she leaned against the jamb and took a deep breath.
For the first time in a long while, the apartment was truly quiet. No one was demanding sacrifices, preying on her pity, or trying to deprive her of a roof over her head. Lena walked through the rooms, straightening the things her father had left. Every object reminded her of the man who had protected his daughter all his life and, even after death, continued to protect her by leaving her a home.
Kolya returned late at night, sullen and irritated.
“Len, can we cut the theatrics? Mom cried all evening because of your cruelty.”
“My cruelty?” she asked, without looking up from her book. “And demanding the sale of someone else’s apartment—is that kindness?”
“She was only trying to help!”
“To help at my expense,” Lena clarified. “Kolya, your mother is willing to sacrifice my home for your debts. And you support that.”
Her husband sat on the couch and rubbed his face with his hands:
“I don’t know what to do. The debts keep growing; I don’t have a job.”
“You can find a job if you look,” Lena said. “But buying a new apartment will be harder if we sell this one.”
Kolya said nothing. In his eyes Lena read hurt and incomprehension. He still couldn’t accept that his wife had refused to sacrifice her inheritance for his problems.
The next weeks passed in a tense atmosphere. Kolya avoided conversations about debts and job hunting but regularly reminded his wife of his mother’s tears. Galina no longer came by, but sent messages through her son about the daughter-in-law’s ingratitude and cruelty.
Lena understood: the marriage was cracking. Kolya couldn’t forgive her refusal to sell the apartment, and she couldn’t forgive his attempt to take her home. Trust between them had vanished completely.
One morning Kolya packed his things and announced:
“I’m going to my mother’s. I need to think.”
Lena nodded without trying to stop him:
“Leave the keys on the table.”
He slammed the door, leaving her alone in the quiet apartment. Lena sat in her father’s armchair and looked at the photo of her parents on the dresser. Her father smiled from the portrait, and she felt as if he approved of her decision.
The apartment remained hers. The home her father had secured for her continued to protect his daughter even when the closest people tried to take it away. Lena realized: the right decision isn’t always easy, but it always brings a sense of inner correctness and confidence in tomorrow.
