— Can you believe it, Masha? Yulia’s parents bought her an apartment! — Irina was nervously twirling a strand of dyed blond hair, the phone wedged between her shoulder and ear.
What a big apartment your parents bought you, she thought enviously, eyeing her brother’s wife’s new place.
Her slender fingers with a perfect pastel manicure betrayed the habit of taking care of herself despite a modest income. — And not just any apartment, a three-room in a new building! In “Sunny Park,” you know? With a fountain in the courtyard and an underground parking garage!
— Well, that’s great, I’m happy for Yulia, — Masha replied calmly. — She’s a good girl; she deserves it.
— Deserves it? — Irina stopped short in the middle of her rented place. — How, exactly? By still living off her parents at twenty-seven? Making pennies in that research library of hers?
— Ira, come on…
— No, listen! — Irina went to the window and pulled aside a synthetic curtain — cheap, but presentable. — My Andrei — their own son, mind you — works his tail off every day. He’s a department head at a big company! And we’re still renting this one-room place. Can you imagine, the neighbors upstairs flooded us again yesterday, and the landlady refuses to fix anything!
— Have you asked his parents for help? Maybe they just don’t know you’re struggling?
Irina hesitated, studying her reflection in the windowpane. At thirty-two she looked great — a slim figure, a stylish haircut, expensive lipstick. No one would guess her designer blouse was bought on sale.
— We… I mean, I… tried to talk to my mother-in-law. At Andrei’s birthday, remember, a month ago? She baked that cake everyone raved about. I said, “Ah, how wonderful it would be to gather in our own apartment instead of a rental…” And she just smiled and offered everyone seconds.
— And what does Andrei say?
— Andrei! — Irina snorted. — You know what he told me yesterday? “Sweetheart, let’s buy Yulia a nice plant for her new apartment tomorrow. I’m so happy my sister will finally have a place of her own!”
— Well, that’s good, that he and his sister…
— Good how? — Irina cut her off. — His sister’s got a three-room in an elite complex now, and he’s thrilled! You should’ve seen it; we went to see it before they bought it. Ninety square meters, three-meter ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows! And the bathroom! God, my bedroom is smaller than her bathroom!
— Ira, — Masha’s tone turned firm, — you’re working yourself up. Maybe you shouldn’t…
— No, Mash, — Irina dropped to a half-whisper, — I’m going to say everything at the housewarming tomorrow. Let them know what it’s like to divide children into favorites and unfavorites. I’ll ask right in front of everyone — why does one get everything and the other nothing?
— Irina! Don’t you dare! You’ll start a fight with everyone!
— I can’t keep quiet anymore! We’ve lived like poor relatives for five years. For my birthday, my mother-in-law gave me a handbag. A handbag! And for her daughter — an apartment! — Irina ran a hand over her perfectly set hair. — Andrei makes a decent salary, but all our money goes to rent and my cosmetics. I have to look presentable — I’m a manager’s wife! I can’t show up at my husband’s office party in just anything!
The key turned in the lock.
— That’s Andrei — Irina whispered quickly. — We’ll talk tomorrow; I’ll tell you how it went.
She hung up and turned to the door, pulling a welcoming smile onto her face. Andrei walked in — a tall brunette with kind brown eyes and light stubble. Despite being tired, he smiled.
— Hi! I picked up food for us on the way home. Sorry, the meeting ran long. There are your favorite croissants, with coconut and hazelnuts.
— It’s fine, dear, — Irina pecked his cheek, glancing sidelong at the bag from an ordinary supermarket. — How was your day?
— Great! You know, I’m so happy for Yulia. She saved for years for her own place, and our parents helped her out! — Andrei began unpacking the groceries.
Irina bit her lip. “It’s okay,” she thought. “Tomorrow will be a very different conversation. I’m done keeping quiet and pretending everything’s perfect.”
The next morning, Irina spent almost two hours getting ready. She scrutinized her wardrobe and tried on all her dressy outfits. At last she chose a cream sheath dress she’d bought on sale last month — conservative but striking.
— Ira, we’re going to be late! — Andrei called from the kitchen. — Yulia asked us to come early to help arrange the furniture.
— Coming, coming, — Irina answered, giving her hair one last brush. — What, your sister can’t even handle furniture placement on her own?
Andrei appeared in the bedroom doorway:
— Ira, why say that? Yulia just needs a hand.
— Of course, — Irina pressed her pink-lipsticked mouth into a line, — why think and strain yourself when you can ask big brother to help? As usual.
— What’s with you today? — Andrei came over and set his hands on her shoulders. — You’re so tense.
Irina met his eyes in the mirror. His brown eyes were filled with genuine concern. For a second she felt ashamed of her barbs, but then she remembered the spacious rooms in Yulia’s new place.
— I’m fine, — she gave a stiff smile. — Let’s go; we shouldn’t keep your sister waiting.
The new complex was impressive — tall modern buildings of glass and concrete, manicured grounds, security at the entrance. Irina’s stomach tightened as they passed through the broad, designer-finished lobby.
— Can you believe it, two concierges, — Andrei chatted lightly as they rode the elevator. — And underground parking. Pretty great, right?
— Very, — Irina ground out between her teeth.
Yulia met them at the door — a petite brunette with lively green eyes, dressed in simple jeans and a loose shirt. Not at all like the ecstatic owner of elite real estate, Irina noted.
— Andryusha! Irochka! — Yulia hugged her brother. — I’m so happy you came!
— We’re happy too, — Irina smiled stiffly, stepping into the spacious entryway.
— Come in, come in! — Yulia was glowing. — Just ignore the mess; I haven’t unpacked everything yet.
Irina looked around. There was no mess — big boxes were stacked neatly along the walls, protective floor covering kept the new parquet safe. The air smelled of fresh paint and new furniture.
— Your entryway is so roomy, — Irina remarked, slipping off her heels. — It must be nice to have so much space.
— Yes, there’s even a walk-in closet, — Yulia pointed to sliding doors. — Though I’m not sure how I’ll fill it. I don’t have that many things.
— Don’t worry, — Irina smiled, but her eyes stayed cold, — you’ll accumulate plenty. Now that you have somewhere to keep it.
Andrei shot his wife a warning look, which she pretended not to notice.
— Come on, I’ll show you everything! — Yulia led them through the apartment. — Here will be the living room. Look at these windows! And the balcony!
— Incredible, — Irina breathed, taking in the panoramic windows. — And how much does happiness like this cost?
— Ira! — Andrei checked her.
— What? — She fluttered her lashes innocently. — I’m just curious. Maybe we’ll get lucky someday too… and land an apartment like this.
Yulia froze, her cheeks tinged pink:
— Ira, you know our parents worked their whole lives…
— Oh sure, — Irina cut in, — they worked, and somehow you’re the only one who ended up with the apartment. Interesting, isn’t it?
A heavy silence fell. Yulia glanced helplessly from her brother to her sister-in-law, plucking at the sleeve of her simple blue shirt. A deep crease formed on Andrei’s high forehead.
— Irina, can we step out for a minute? — His voice was unusually firm.
— Why? — Irina spread her hands theatrically. — I’m only saying what everyone is thinking. Tell me, Yulia, don’t you find it odd that your parents bought only you such a huge apartment? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to buy two smaller ones? One for you and one for your brother?
— Ira, stop it, — there was steel in Andrei’s voice.
But Irina was unstoppable. She strolled slowly across the spacious living room, pressing her heels into the protective covering:
— Your brother and I have been renting a one-room place for five years. Five years! And you get all of this — she swept an arm around — just like that. For your pretty eyes.
— Ira, — Yulia stepped forward, her green eyes filling with tears, — I didn’t think…
— Of course you didn’t think! — Irina raised her voice. — Why would you? You’ve got loving parents to decide everything for you! And we… — she faltered, brushing away an invisible tear. — Every month we count every ruble, saving for a down payment on a mortgage. And then — bam! — and a three-room in a luxury building just falls out of the sky!
— That’s enough! — Andrei grabbed her by the elbow. — Come on, we need to talk.
— Don’t touch me! — Irina yanked her arm free. — I’m not finished! Yulia needs to know that…
— Yulya, I’m sorry, — Andrei cut in. — We’ll be right back.
He practically hauled the resisting Irina into the hallway and then out onto the spacious loggia, firmly shutting the glass door behind them.
— What. Are. You. Doing? — he asked, enunciating each word.
Irina folded her arms, her flawlessly painted lips twisting:
— What’s so terrible? I’m just telling the truth. Look at this apartment! One chandelier costs as much as our monthly rent!
— You don’t know anything, — Andrei ran a weary hand over his face.
— What don’t I know? — Irina leaned in. — That your parents favored their darling youngest daughter? That she gets everything while we…
— Our parents offered me an apartment three years ago.
Irina froze, mouth open:
— What?
— I turned it down, — Andrei looked straight into her eyes. — I said my sister needed it more. She’s a woman. A woman should have a secure home base. And I’d earn mine myself.
— You… what? — Irina went pale; her perfect makeup suddenly looked like an ill-fitting mask. — Why didn’t you tell me?
— Would you have understood? — Andrei gave a bitter smile. — Judging by your little performance today — no.
— But that’s… — Irina swallowed hard. — You should have discussed it with me! I’m your wife!
— Discuss what? — Andrei shook his head. — That my kid sister lives on a modest librarian’s salary and rents a room in a communal flat? That she put half her pay aside every month, denying herself everything, while you go to salons every week?
Irina stepped back; her heel rang sharply against the balcony tile:
— Don’t you dare throw the salons in my face! I’m a manager’s wife; I have to look the part!
— Look the part? — Andrei raked a hand through his hair; his usually calm face twisted with bitterness. — You know how Yulia looks? In the same dress for the third year running. And she doesn’t complain.
— Ah, so that’s it? — Irina leaned toward him, her carefully styled hair spilling over her shoulders. — You like that your sister is such a modest little thing? So proper? And I’m the spendthrift?
— That’s not it, — Andrei shook his head. — It’s how you’re behaving. Do you even understand what you’ve just done?
Through the glass door Yulia’s figure flickered — she paced the living room, clearly at a loss. Her shoulders were slumped; her face was tear-streaked.
— And how am I supposed to behave? — Irina raised her voice. — Be happy? Clap my hands? “Oh, how lovely, my sister-in-law got an apartment for fifteen million, and we’ll keep renting our one-room place with the leaky ceiling!”
— The awful part… — Andrei looked at his wife intently. — Isn’t that you’re jealous. It’s that you don’t think about anyone else. Tell me, have you ever once asked how Yulia lives? What she does? What she dreams about?
Irina sniffed:
— What’s there to ask? She sits in her library handing out books…
— She defended her Candidate’s thesis last year, — Andrei said quietly. — On the history of ancient manuscripts. Four years writing it, at night, after work. By day she led tours at the library just to make ends meet.
— And so what? — Irina jerked a shoulder, but doubt crept into her voice.
— So when our parents offered me the apartment, I knew Yulia needed it more. Her whole life is ahead of her. She can do so much; she dreams of opening a calligraphy school — she’s dreamed of that since childhood. And you… — he broke off.
— Say it! — Irina’s eyes flashed angry tears. — What about me?
— You think only about looking the part, — Andrei said it without anger, with a kind of tired resignation. — I kept thinking — maybe it’ll pass? Maybe you’ll grow up and start valuing something besides money and status?
At that moment the doorbell rang — the first housewarming guests. Wiping her eyes, Yulia hurried to the entryway.
— What are you trying to say? — Irina stepped closer, her perfectly lined eyes narrowing.
— Remember what you said to my mother on my birthday? About how nice it would be to gather in our own apartment?
— So what?
— So my mother cried after that. Because she remembers I turned down the apartment. And now she thinks I’m living in a rental because of her.
Irina recoiled; her manicured fingers clutched the balcony railing. — Don’t try to guilt-trip me! Your mother knows perfectly well…
— No, you listen, — Andrei gripped her shoulders and turned her toward him. Pain showed in his brown eyes. — You know what Mom said then? “Son, did we do something wrong? Should we have insisted, made you take the apartment? You have a family.” And I stood there not knowing what to say. Because my own wife reproaches them for helping their daughter!
Inside, guests were already gathering. Muted laughter and the clink of glasses drifted out. Yulia, wearing a forced smile, was saying something to their parents. Their mother, a petite woman with kind eyes in a simple blue dress, kept glancing toward the balcony.
— Your parents could have bought two apartments, — Irina said stubbornly, but her voice had lost its former certainty.
— They could have, — Andrei agreed calmly. — Only, you know what? They saved that money for twenty years. Dad took extra shifts at the plant. Mom tutored in the evenings. They denied themselves everything. And you show up here and count other people’s money.
— I just wanted…
— I know what you wanted, — Andrei cut in. — You wanted everyone to see how unfairly you’ve been treated. Only — he paused a beat. — I can’t do this anymore.
— What do you mean “can’t”? — Irina nervously smoothed her hair with a trembling hand.
— It means I’m tired, — Andrei turned away, staring into the distance through the panoramic glass. — Tired of your constant dissatisfaction. Of tallying other people’s money. Of how you treat my family.
In the living room their mother’s anxious voice rose:
— Yulia, dear, where are Andryusha and Irina? What’s happened?
— They… they’ll be right in, — Yulia’s shaky voice answered. — They’re just discussing… the balcony layout.
— And now what?
Andrei turned back to her slowly. His face wore an expression Irina had never seen — a mix of resolve and bone-deep weariness:
— I’ve always been proud I earned everything myself. A good job, a career — all on my own. And I wasn’t ashamed to refuse my parents’ help because I knew I’d make it. I only failed to account for one thing…
— What? — Irina whispered.
— That my wife would be incapable of being happy for someone else’s good fortune. Even when that someone is my own sister.
The living room grew noticeably louder — more guests had arrived. Through the glass door they could see Yulia, furtively wiping her eyes as she accepted congratulations and gifts. Her simple blue shirt was a bit rumpled, and red blotches from nerves had risen on her pale face.
— I think we should join the guests, — Irina stepped toward the door, but Andrei blocked her path.
— No, — his voice was uncharacteristically hard. — We finish this first.
— Finish what? — Irina tried to smile, but it came out crooked. — Andryusha, I got carried away, it happens to everyone…
— It doesn’t, — he said bitterly. — Remember how you reacted when you found out Yulia was accepted to grad school? You said, “Of course — some people get to live off their parents for years and play at science.”
— I just…
— And when she defended her dissertation? “Big deal — poking around in old books.” Have you ever once asked what she does? What she studies?
Irina was silent, nervously worrying the strap of her expensive watch — Andrei’s last birthday present.
— And you know what? — Andrei went on. — She restored several lost eighteenth-century texts. Her work was recognized at an international conference. You don’t know that because you’re interested in nothing but money and status.
Their father’s figure flashed past the glass — a tall, gray-haired man in a simple gray suit. He spoke anxiously to his wife, glancing toward the balcony.
— Andryusha, — Irina set a hand on his shoulder, — let’s not ruin the celebration. I admit I was wrong. I’ll apologize to Yulia…
— No, — he gently but firmly removed her hand. — It isn’t about apologies. I kept thinking — maybe you’ll change? Maybe you’ll realize there’s more to life than money and prestige? But today… — he shook his head. — Today I understood I was wrong.
— What are you saying? — fear crept into Irina’s voice.
— Remember how we met? — he asked instead. — At that company party? You were so beautiful, so sure of yourself. I fell in love with your smile, your laugh…
— Andrei…
— And then it started, — he seemed not to hear her. — First it had to be an apartment in a prestigious district. Then designer clothes, because “you’re a manager’s wife.” Salons, restaurants, status things… I kept hoping — maybe it would pass? Maybe someday you’d learn to value the simple things?
Andrei held her gaze. — You know what’s scariest? I stopped recognizing the girl I fell in love with. She could rejoice at little things, laugh from the heart, dream… And you — you just count other people’s money and envy them.
— I don’t… — Irina began, but fell silent under his look.
— Today you humiliated my sister in her own home. You insulted my parents, who worked their whole lives for their children — he drew a deep breath. — I’m grateful to you.
— Grateful? — Irina blinked, bewildered.
— Yes. Because now I know for sure we need to get a divorce.
Irina went white; her perfect makeup suddenly looked like an ill-suited mask:
— You can’t…
— I can, — Andrei said softly. — And I must. Because I don’t want to wake up in twenty years and realize I live with someone who can only envy and demand.
From the living room came his mother’s voice:
— Andryusha! Irochka! What’s taking you so long?
Andrei took the balcony door handle.
— I’m going back to the guests. And you… you can leave. Or stay and sincerely congratulate Yulia. The choice is yours.
He opened the door and stepped inside, leaving Irina alone on the wide balcony. She watched him go to his sister, hug her tightly, whisper something in her ear. She saw Yulia’s face light up. She saw their parents breathe easier when their daughter smiled.
Irina looked at her reflection in the glass. A beautiful, well-groomed woman in an expensive dress. Everything perfect — hair, makeup, manicure. Only her eyes were empty.
She pulled out her phone and called a taxi. Then, after one last look at the happy family behind the glass, she slipped quietly out of the apartment. In the vast mirrored lobby, the click of her heels sounded especially lonely.
“Ninety square meters,” she thought as the elevator descended. “Some get ninety meters, and some get a divorce…”
Outside, a fine drizzle was falling. Irina took a compact from her bag and, by habit, touched up her lipstick. But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t care whether her reflection looked flawless.
