Nadezhda, dear, I asked you not to touch those documents!” my mother-in-law’s voice sounded unexpectedly sharp when I picked up the folder from the table.
Svetlana Ivanovna was standing in the doorway of the study, and her usually friendly face twisted in an irritated grimace. She quickly walked over and literally snatched the folder out of my hands.
I blinked in confusion. Pavel and I had been living in his parents’ house for three years now, and in all that time my mother-in-law had never raised her voice at me. She had always been the picture of politeness and tact. Too perfect, as I now realize.
“Sorry, I was just looking for my notebook,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks flush. “I thought I left it here yesterday.”
Svetlana Ivanovna had already pulled herself together. Her usual smile appeared back on her face, but her eyes stayed cold.
“It’s all right, dear. It’s just that there are important papers about the house here. You know how men are—Pavlik and his father are always losing everything, and then I have to sort it all out. I think I saw your notebook in the kitchen.”
She walked me to the door of the study and gently closed it behind my back. The lock clicked. I stood in the hallway, feeling like a schoolgirl who had been caught misbehaving. What was that? For three years of living together my father-in-law’s study had always been open. There was a computer we all used, bookshelves, an old couch. Just an ordinary room.
That evening I told Pavel about what had happened. He waved it off without looking up from his phone.
“Mom’s just nervous because of the papers for the dacha. There’s some problem with the land survey. Don’t overthink it.”
But I did overthink it. Because the next day something even stranger happened.
I came home from work earlier than usual—after the planning meeting they let us go. The house greeted me with silence. My mother-in-law usually watched TV dramas in the living room at this time, but the TV was off. I went into the kitchen, poured myself some water, and heard voices coming from the study. The door was slightly ajar.
“…the notary said everything’s ready. All that’s left is to sign,” that was my father-in-law’s voice, Viktor Petrovich.
“Excellent. The main thing is that Nadezhda doesn’t find out ahead of time,” replied Svetlana Ivanovna. “Pavlik promised to keep quiet, but you know him. He might let something slip.”
“What difference does it make? She won’t be able to change anything anyway.”
“There is a difference. I don’t want any scandals. Let everything go through quietly, and then… then we’ll see.”
I froze with the mug in my hand. What were they talking about? What notary? What couldn’t be changed? And most importantly—Pavel knew and was keeping quiet?
The floor creaked under my foot. The voices stopped.
“Who’s there?” Viktor Petrovich asked sharply.
I quickly walked over to the fridge, pretending I had just come in.
“It’s me!” I called as casually as I could. “They let me out of work early!”
Svetlana Ivanovna came out of the study. That same smile was back on her face. Perfect. Rehearsed.
“Nadusha, how nice! I was just about to start making dinner. Will you help me?”
We spent the next two hours in the kitchen. My mother-in-law chattered about the neighbors, a new TV series, the weather. About everything except the conversation I’d overheard. And I chopped vegetables and thought.
At dinner, Pavel was unusually quiet. He avoided my eyes, staring into his plate. My father-in-law was reading a newspaper. Svetlana Ivanovna was telling some story about a friend, but I wasn’t listening. I was looking at this picture of family harmony and feeling the anxiety growing inside me.
That night I couldn’t sleep. Pavel lay beside me, turned toward the wall. I knew he wasn’t sleeping—his breathing was uneven.
“Pasha,” I called quietly.
“Mmm?”
“What’s going on?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend. I heard your parents talking about a notary. And that you’re in on it.”
He suddenly sat up in bed.
“You were eavesdropping?”
“I heard it accidentally. There is a difference. So what’s going on?”
Pavel was silent for so long that I decided he wasn’t going to answer. But then he let out a heavy sigh.
“Nadya, it’s… it’s complicated. My parents decided to re-register the house.”
“So what? It’s their house, their right.”
“Yes, but…” he hesitated. “They’re registering it only in my name. Without you.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What do you mean, without me? We’re married.”
“They… they think it’s safer that way. You never know. What if we get divorced?”
“What if we get divorced?” I sat up and turned on the night light. “Pasha, we’ve been married for three years! We’re fine, aren’t we? Or not?”
He wouldn’t look at me.
“It’s not about us. Mom is just being cautious. Her friend’s daughter got divorced, and the husband claimed half the apartment. She’s scared.”
“Scared?” I could feel anger rising inside me. “She’s scared that I’ll try to claim your house in court? Seriously? I’ve lived with your family for three years, helped with everything, worked, invested money in the renovation, and she thinks I’m here for the house?”
“Nadya, don’t wind yourself up. It’s just a formality.”
“A formality? And why didn’t you tell me? Why keep it a secret?”
“Because I knew you’d react like this!”
“And how am I supposed to react? With understanding? ‘Oh sure, let’s register everything so that if anything happens I end up with nothing at all’?”
Pavel got out of bed and paced the room.
“This is my parents’ house. They have the right to handle it however they want.”
“Of course they do. But why in secret? Why behind my back?”
“Because it’s their decision! And mine too!”
He shouted the last words. We both froze. It was a confession. He didn’t just know—he agreed.
In the morning I woke up alone. Pavel had already left for work, though we usually ate breakfast together. I went down to the kitchen. Svetlana Ivanovna was drinking coffee and flipping through a magazine.
“Good morning, Nadusha. Coffee?”
I sat down across from her.
“Svetlana Ivanovna, we need to talk.”
She raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise.
“About what?”
“About the house. About the notary. About what you’re trying to do.”
The mask fell off instantly. Her face became hard.
“Pavel told you? Well then. You know everything.”
“I don’t understand anything. Explain to me why you decided I’m some kind of threat.”
She put the magazine aside.
“Nadezhda, don’t take it personally. It’s not against you as a person. It’s… a precaution. Nowadays marriages fall apart left and right. I’m just protecting my son’s interests.”
“And what about my interests? I’ve invested more than a million of my own savings into renovating this house!”
“Do you have receipts? Documents?” there were steel notes in her voice.
“No, but…”
“You see? And without documents you can’t prove anything. Besides, you wanted to do the renovation yourself. No one forced you.”
I looked at her and didn’t recognize her. Where was that sweet woman who had welcomed me three years ago? Who called me “daughter” and promised we’d be one big family?
“Did you plan all this from the very beginning?”
Svetlana Ivanovna stood up.
“Don’t dramatize. Viktor and I worked our whole lives for this house. And I’m not going to allow some girl…”
She broke off, but it was too late. The mask had fallen for good.
“Some girl?” I got up too. “I’m your daughter-in-law. Your son’s wife.”
“For now. And what about tomorrow? The day after tomorrow? You’ll find someone younger, richer—and adiós?”
“Are you judging me by yourself?”
It was a low blow, and we both knew it. Svetlana Ivanovna flushed.
“How dare you!”
“How do you dare lie to me all these years? Pretending to be a loving mother-in-law while secretly making plans to get rid of me?”
“No one is trying to get rid of you. Live here, by all means. The house will just be registered to Pavel. And that’s final.”
She turned and walked out of the kitchen. I was left alone.
The next few days were hell. We lived in the same house but tried not to run into each other. Pavel pretended nothing was happening. My father-in-law disappeared altogether—he went off to the dacha. And Svetlana Ivanovna went around acting as though I was the one who had mortally offended her.
On Friday I came home from work and found an unfamiliar man in the living room. My parents-in-law and Pavel were sitting next to him.
“Oh, Nadezhda!” Svetlana Ivanovna put on a happy tone. “Meet Mikhail Sergeevich, our notary. We’re just finalizing the paperwork.”
There were documents on the table. I saw the words “deed of gift” and Pavel’s name.
“Without me?”
“What do we need you for?” my mother-in-law smiled. “It’s not your property.”
Mikhail Sergeevich coughed awkwardly.
“Maybe I should go? This is a family matter…”
“No, no, stay,” Svetlana Ivanovna held him by the sleeve. “We’re just about finished. Pavlik, sign.”
Pavel picked up the pen. He looked at me, and in his eyes something like regret flickered. But it was only for a second. He bent over the documents.
“Wait,” I said suddenly.
Everyone turned to me.
“May I ask a question, Mikhail Sergeevich? If a spouse invested a significant sum into improving the house, does she have a right to compensation?”
The notary adjusted his glasses.
“Well, in principle, if there is proof… Receipts, transfers…”
I took out my phone and opened my banking app.
“Here. Transfers for building materials. Payments to the construction workers. Purchases of furniture and appliances. All from my account. The total is one million three hundred thousand.”
Svetlana Ivanovna went pale.
“These… these are gifts! You wanted to do it yourself!”
“The bank transfers state the payment purpose: ‘house renovation.’ At this address. I think any court would consider that an investment in joint property.”
“What joint property?” Viktor Petrovich exploded. “This is our house!”
“The house I’ve been improving for three years. With my money. While you and Svetlana Ivanovna were saving up for a new car.”
Mikhail Sergeevich stood up.
“You know, I think I’ll go. You need to resolve this among yourselves first. If this goes to court, the deed of gift could be contested.”
“What do you mean, court?” Svetlana Ivanovna jumped up. “How dare she threaten us!”
But the notary was already gathering the documents.
“Forgive me, but I can’t be part of a transaction that might be challenged. Sort things out between yourselves first.”
He left. Silence fell in the living room.
“Happy now?” my mother-in-law hissed. “You ruined everything!”
“I’m defending my rights.”
“Your rights? What rights do you have here? This is our house!”
“The one I’ve put more into than you have in the last five years.”
“You little…”
“Mom!” Pavel finally spoke up. “Enough!”
Svetlana Ivanovna turned to her son.
“So you’re on her side?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side. But Nadya is right. She really has invested a lot in the house.”
“So what? Now we should give her half?”
“No. But maybe you could have just talked to her normally? Like a human being? Instead of deciding everything behind her back?”
Viktor Petrovich got up.
“You know what? I’m sick of all of you. Sveta, you created this problem out of thin air. Nadya lived here quietly, helped with everything. And you decided to ‘play it safe.’ Well, congratulations.”
He walked out of the room. My mother-in-law stared after him, stunned.
That evening Pavel found me in the bedroom. I was packing.
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m going to my parents’. For a while. I need to think.”
“Nadya, let’s talk.”
“About what? About how you chose your mother’s side? Kept quiet, agreed to everything?”
“I thought it didn’t matter. Just papers.”
“Papers? Pasha, your mother spent three years pretending she loved me while all the time she saw me as a temporary guest. And you knew it.”
“I… I didn’t think it was that serious.”
“That’s exactly the problem. You didn’t think. You never do. Mom decided—you agreed. Mom said—you did it.”
Pavel sat on the bed and buried his head in his hands.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Decide. Either you’re an adult man with your own family, or you’re mommy’s boy living in your parents’ house. The choice is yours.”
I closed the suitcase. Pavel watched me put on my jacket but didn’t stop me.
“Nadya… will you come back?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t.”
I left. My parents welcomed me without questions. Mom just hugged me and said my room was always ready.
Pavel called every day. He said the house was quiet now. That his mother had withdrawn into herself. That his father hardly spoke to her.
On the third day my mother-in-law came. I didn’t want to see her, but my mom said:
“Listen to her. Then decide.”
Svetlana Ivanovna looked older. She sat down across from me and was silent for a long time.
“Nadya, I… I want to apologize.”
I stayed silent.
“I was wrong. Completely. Absolutely. I was so afraid of losing my son, the house, everything I’d built over the years, that I didn’t notice I was losing something much bigger. A family. A real family.”
“Why didn’t you trust me?”
She sighed.
“I don’t know. Probably I was projecting my own fears. When I was young, my husband’s parents didn’t accept me either. They thought I was after their property. I suffered so much because of that. And I swore I would be different with my daughter-in-law. And in the end… I became the same.”
“But you were so kind to me all these years.”
“On the outside. But inside I was always waiting for some trick. Looking for signs that you… that you weren’t sincere. And in the end I decided to ‘play it safe.’ Stupid, distrustful fool that I am.”
She started crying. I don’t remember ever seeing her in tears before.
“Nadya, come back. Please. The house is not a home without you. Pavel walks around like a lost soul. Viktor won’t talk to me. Says I ruined everything.”
“And the documents?”
“There are no documents. Everything stays the way it is. And if you and Pavel want, we’ll move out altogether. We’ll leave the house to you. Viktor and I are more comfortable at the dacha anyway.”
“You don’t need to move anywhere.”
“So… you’ll come back?”
I thought about it for three days. About Pavel, who might be weak but whom I loved. About the house that had become home. About my mother-in-law, who turned out to be just a frightened woman.
“I’ll come back. But on conditions.”
“Anything!”
“No more secrets. No more decisions behind my back. We are a family. Either we discuss everything together, or I leave.”
“I agree. Completely.”
“And Pavel has to learn to make decisions on his own. Not you for him.”
“Yes. You’re right.”
I came back a week later. Pavel met me at the door with a bouquet of wildflowers—my favorite.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I was an idiot.”
“You were. But you’re fixable.”
Svetlana Ivanovna bustled in the kitchen, making a festive dinner. Viktor Petrovich uncorked a bottle of wine—the very one they’d been saving for a special occasion.
At the table my mother-in-law stood up with her glass.
“I want to say something… Nadya, forgive me. I nearly destroyed our family because of my fears. But now I understand—family is not a house, not documents, not money. Family is trust. And I promise that never again…”
She didn’t finish—she burst into tears. Viktor Petrovich put his arm around her shoulders.
“All right, woman. Everyone gets it. Let’s just drink to the fact that the family is together again.”
We drank. And that evening the house felt warm again. Truly warm.
A year passed. A lot changed. Pavel got a new job and became more confident. We moved into our own apartment—we bought it ourselves, with a mortgage, but it was ours. At first, Svetlana Ivanovna was upset, but then she said:
“Good. Young people need their own nest.”
Now we visit them on weekends. My mother-in-law bakes my favorite pie, my father-in-law talks about his tomatoes at the dacha. Pavel helps his father with repairs. And I help my mother-in-law in the kitchen, and we chatter about everything in the world.
Recently she said:
“You know, Nadya, I think everything turned out for the best. That conflict… it helped us become a real family. Without masks, without pretending.”
She was right. Sometimes you have to go through a crisis to understand what really matters. You can’t buy trust or register it with a notary. You can only earn it. And keep it.
And a home… a home is where you are loved and awaited. Truly. Without conditions and fine print.
