Andrew, why have you gone so pale?” Lana looked anxiously at her husband, frozen with a glass of champagne in his hand.
Andrey silently nodded toward the dance floor, where his younger brother Oleg was waltzing with his brand-new wife. The newlyweds’ parents stood nearby, glowing with happiness.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Andrey whispered.
“Yes,” Lana smiled sincerely, then glanced at her mother-in-law, Valentina Petrovna. Barely holding back tears of joy, Valentina took the microphone right after the couple’s first dance.
“Dear Olezhek and Tanechka! We have a little surprise for you.”
The hall fell silent. Valentina Petrovna pulled a small box tied with a red ribbon from her purse.
“This is for you, newlyweds—from your dad and me.”
Grinning from ear to ear, Oleg untied the ribbon and opened the box. A bunch of keys fell into his palm.
“This is…” he began, but his father, Viktor Semyonovich, cut him off:
“These are the keys to your new apartment, son. A two-bedroom in a new building, fully finished. You can move in as soon as tomorrow!”
The room erupted in applause. Oleg and Tanya rushed to hug their parents. And Lana felt Andrey tense beside her. His fingers clenched the glass until it hurt.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said quietly. “Now.”
Three months earlier, on a bright summer day, the phone rang in their rented apartment.
“Andrey Viktorovich?” a cheerful male voice said. “This is Avangard Bank calling. We have an excellent offer for you!”
Andrey sighed. He wasn’t interested in yet another credit card or consumer loan.
“Thanks, but—”
“Wait!” the voice interrupted. “It’s about a mortgage program for IT specialists. You work in that field, right?”
Andrey perked up. “Yes, I’m a developer. What about the mortgage?”
“We have a new program: rates from 4.5% per year, down payment from 15%. But the promotion ends in a month, so you need to submit an application in time.”
Andrey’s heart started beating faster. For years, he and Lana had dreamed of owning their own place, but they could never scrape together the down payment.
“How much do we need for the first payment?” he asked, already calculating possibilities.
“At least 900,000,” the manager replied. “That’s if you’re buying an apartment for six million.”
Andrey froze for a second. He and Lana had barely 300,000 in their account. All their savings had gone to her grandfather’s funeral two months earlier, and to Andrey’s dental treatment—a miserable bout of pulpitis that nearly landed him in a hospital bed.
“I… I’ll think about it,” he finally said. “Can I call you back?”
“Of course! Just remember—time is short. The promotion ends in a month.”
Andrey hung up and stared out the window. Images drifted through his mind: a spacious kitchen where Lana made her signature pancakes; a cozy bedroom with a big bed; a nursery… Yes, they’d talked about a baby for ages, but kept putting it off—how could you have a child when you were living in a rental?
That evening, when Lana came home from work, Andrey told her about the bank call.
“Andryusha, that’s an amazing opportunity!” she lit up, hugging him. “Could we really finally buy our own home?”
Andrey smiled sadly.
“Lana, we don’t have 900,000. And the promo ends in a month.”
She fell silent for a moment, then said decisively:
“Then let’s ask your parents. Borrow it. We’ll pay it back later, once we get on our feet.”
Andrey grimaced. He really didn’t want to ask his parents for money. But it seemed there was no other choice.
The next day he went to see them. Valentina Petrovna greeted him with open arms.
“Andryushenka! What brings you here? Come in—I baked pies!”
Over tea and pies, Andrey explained the bank’s offer and how they were short on the down payment.
“Mom, Dad,” he looked at them. “Lana and I want to ask you for a loan. I promise we’ll pay back every kopeck as soon as we can.”
An awkward pause hung in the air. Viktor Semyonovich cleared his throat.
“Son, we’d love to… but we don’t have that kind of money right now. You understand—crisis, prices going up…”
“Yes, yes,” Valentina chimed in. “Just yesterday I was at the store—carrots have doubled! And cabbage? It’s daylight robbery!”
Andrey listened to these excuses and felt resentment rising inside him. Couldn’t his own mother see how much this mattered?
“Alright. I got it,” he said stiffly, standing up. “Thanks for the tea.”
“Andryosha, where are you going?” his mother fussed. “Stay a little longer!”
But Andrey was already at the door.
“Sorry, I’ve got things to do. Goodbye.”
Time passed. Andrey and Lana kept living in their rented apartment, counting every penny. The favorable mortgage program ended, leaving behind a bitter taste of missed chances.
Then, like a bolt from the blue, the news came: Oleg was getting married. Andrey’s younger brother—a recent university graduate—was tying the knot with his classmate Tanya.
“You know what I think of this pompous restaurant,” Andrey grumbled, tying his tie in front of the mirror. “They’d be better off putting that money toward a down payment.”
Lana wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“Don’t grumble, sweetheart. It’s your brother. Be happy for him.”
Andrey exhaled.
“You’re right. It’s just… it hurts, you know? We’ve been married five years and we’re still bouncing from rental to rental. And he’s barely finished college—boom, a wedding for ninety people.”
Lana kissed his cheek softly.
“Everyone has their own path, love. We’ll get there too. Together.”
And now they were sitting in a taxi, heading home from the wedding. A heavy silence filled the car.
Lana glanced at her husband from the side. His face looked carved from stone—not a single muscle moved. Only his jaw worked beneath the skin, betraying the storm inside.
“Andryush,” she murmured.
“Not now,” he snapped.
They stayed silent the rest of the way.
Morning found them in the same tense quiet. Andrey sat in the kitchen, mechanically stirring long-cold coffee, when his phone rang. The screen said: “Mom.”
For a few seconds he watched the blinking name, then decisively answered.
“Hello.”
“Andryushenka!” his mother’s voice sounded worried. “Son, what happened? You left the wedding so early. Olezhek is upset…”
“And you still don’t understand?” Andrey asked quietly.
“Understand what, son?” There was genuine confusion in her tone.
And then Andrey snapped.
“Don’t understand?!” he shouted into the phone. “You bought Oleg an apartment! An apartment, f—” he barely held back. “And three months ago you couldn’t lend me money for a mortgage down payment! ‘No money,’ ‘crisis,’ ‘carrots got expensive’—and you somehow found money for the youngest?!”
“Andrey, don’t shout,” his mother’s voice turned strict. “Your father and I saved for that apartment for a long time. And besides—you’re the elder. You should achieve everything yourself.”
“In a family meeting, Mom and I decided your brother needed the apartment more,” his father announced in the background. It became clear she was on speakerphone.
Andrey felt a lump rise in his throat.
“Myself?” he repeated softly. “Fine. I understand everything.”
He ended the call and stared at the phone for a few seconds. Then he opened his contacts and added both his mother’s and father’s numbers to the blacklist.
Lana, who had been watching silently, came up and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“Andryush… maybe you shouldn’t,” she said quietly. “They’re your parents…”
Andrey looked up at her, his eyes full of pain.
“Lana, you don’t understand. They… they betrayed me. They betrayed us.”
She sighed.
“Sweetheart, I do understand how much it hurts. But…” She hesitated, then continued softly. “You know, I would give anything—anything and forgive everything—if only my parents were alive.”
Andrey flinched. He remembered how, four years ago, they buried Lana’s father—and then, half a year later, her mother. How Lana cried at night, how he practically had to force her to eat and drink.
He looked at his wife, and his heart tightened with love and gratitude.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I… I’ll take them off the blacklist. But I won’t call them.”
Lana nodded and held him tighter.
Almost a year passed. Andrey and Lana still lived in a rental, but now they had a new goal: to save for the down payment themselves—without anyone’s help.
Andrey picked up extra work: evenings and weekends, he took freelance gigs. Lana didn’t sit idle either—she started baking cakes and pastries to order.
Andrey barely spoke with his parents. Sometimes Valentina Petrovna called, but the conversations were short and strained.
At the beginning of summer, news came: Oleg and Tanya were expecting a baby. Andrey heard it from a coworker whose wife was friends with Tanya.
“Congrats—you’re going to be an uncle!” the coworker said happily.
Andrey forced a smile. “Thanks.”
That evening he told Lana.
“Sweetheart, that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Are you seriously not even going to congratulate your brother?”
Andrey shrugged.
“If he wants to, he’ll tell me himself.”
Lana shook her head.
“Andryush, you can’t be like this. It’s your family.”
“My family is you,” Andrey snapped, though Lana heard uncertainty in his voice.
She sat beside him and took his hand.
“Love, I know you’re hurt. But think about the future. You’ll have a nephew or a niece. Do you really want that child to grow up not knowing their uncle?”
Andrey sat silent, staring at one spot. Lana continued:
“And besides—haven’t we dreamed of having kids of our own? Imagine how great it would be if our children were friends with Oleg’s…”
“If we ever have them,” Andrey gave a bitter little laugh. “In this rented shoebox…”
Lana squeezed his hand harder.
“We will. We absolutely will. We’re strong—we’ll manage.”
He looked at her. There was so much love and support in her eyes that he felt ashamed of his harshness.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ll call Oleg tomorrow.”
The talk with his brother turned out awkward and strained. Oleg seemed surprised by the call.
“Thanks,” he answered dryly. “Yes, Tanya and I are very happy.”
“That’s… that’s great,” Andrey felt his palms sweating from tension. “Listen, maybe we could meet? Sit down, talk…”
A pause hung on the other end.
“I don’t know, Andrey,” Oleg finally said. “We’ve got a lot going on. Renovations in the apartment, getting ready for the baby…”
Andrey felt a fresh wave of resentment rise. In the apartment your parents gifted you, he added silently.
“Alright, I get it,” he said aloud. “Good luck, then.”
He hung up and sat for several minutes, staring into emptiness. Then he took a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard—one they’d been saving for a special occasion—and poured himself half a glass.
That evening, when Lana came back from work, she found him on the couch in front of the TV. The whiskey bottle on the table was almost empty.
“Andrey?” she called, alarmed. “What happened?”
He looked at her with a bleary gaze.
“Nothing happened, darling. I just realized I don’t have a family anymore. Except you.”
Lana sat beside him and hugged him.
“Hey—don’t say that. What happened? Did you talk to Oleg?”
Andrey nodded and told her about the conversation.
“Do you understand?” he said bitterly. “They don’t have time for me. They’ve got their life, their apartment, their baby on the way. And I… and we…” He gestured around their rented place.
Lana pressed closer.
“Andryush, it’s not forever. We’ll buy our own apartment. And we’ll have children. We just need a little more time.”
“A little?” Andrey scoffed. “Lana, we’ve been saving six years. And what? Another six?”
She thought for a moment, then stood up decisively.
“You know what? Enough feeling sorry for ourselves. Let’s make a plan.”
She pulled out a notebook and a pen.
“Look—if we save 50,000 a month, in two years we’ll have 1.2 million. That’s enough for a down payment, even with a cushion.”
Andrey looked skeptical.
“And where do we get 50,000 a month? Right now we can barely put away 20.”
Lana smiled.
“And this is where it gets interesting. I’ve been thinking… Remember you said your company has a training program for junior developers?”
Andrey nodded.
“Well,” Lana continued, “I decided to try. I signed up for programming courses. If it goes well, in six months I can interview at your company.”
Andrey stared at her.
“You… you’re serious? But you always said you’re a total humanities person!”
Lana laughed.
“Then it’s time to change. Besides—you always said I have good logic.”
Andrey pulled her into a tight hug.
“You’re incredible. You know… I’ve been thinking too. Maybe I should talk to management about a promotion. I’ve been on the same position for three years.”
Lana’s smile spread.
“See? Together we can handle anything.”
Another half year passed. Lana dove into studying programming, sitting at the computer for hours. Andrey supported her however he could—made coffee, massaged her tired neck, patiently listened to her excited stories about solved problems and caught bugs.
He didn’t sit still either. After a serious talk with his management, he managed to get a promotion and a significant raise.
Their down-payment fund began to grow faster, and the dream of their own apartment no longer seemed so unreachable.
One evening, while they sat in the kitchen talking about the future, Andrey’s phone rang. His mother’s name flashed on the screen.
Andrey frowned, but after a brief hesitation, answered.
“Yes, Mom?”
“Andryusha, hello,” Valentina Petrovna sounded shaken with excitement. “Son, we have happy news—Tanechka gave birth! You have a nephew!”
Andrey felt a lump rise in his throat. Despite all the hurt, the news touched him.
“That’s… that’s wonderful, Mom,” he said softly. “How are they?”
“Everything’s fine—both the baby and Tanya. They named him Mishenka, after Grandpa. Andryush…” Her voice trembled. “Maybe you and Lana could come? See your nephew?”
Andrey hesitated. Part of him wanted to see the baby and congratulate his brother. Another part still burned with the memory of that “wedding gift.”
Lana, watching him, gently squeezed his hand and nodded as if to say, Go.
“Alright, Mom,” Andrey finally said. “We’ll come.”
Oleg and Tanya’s apartment greeted them with cheerful bustle. Relatives and friends—everyone had gathered to congratulate the new parents.
Andrey and Lana felt a bit out of place. When Valentina Petrovna saw her elder son, she rushed to him with a hug.
“Andryushenka! Finally!”
Andrey awkwardly hugged her back. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his father, standing aside, nod at him.
Oleg came out of the bedroom holding a small bundle.
“Hi,” he said, seeing his brother. “Want to meet your nephew?”
Andrey stepped closer. From the blanket, a newborn’s surprisingly alert eyes looked up at him.
“Hi, little one,” Andrey said quietly. “I’m your uncle.”
And then something amazing happened. The baby suddenly smiled—that toothless smile only infants can manage. And in that moment, Andrey felt the bitterness of the last months loosen its grip.
He looked at his brother and saw a reflection of his own feelings—joy, pride, and a kind of bright sadness.
“Congrats, bro,” Andrey said, his voice trembling. “You have a wonderful son.”
Oleg smiled.
“Thanks, Andrey. I… I’m glad you came.”
Valentina Petrovna, watching them, suddenly sniffled.
“Son, I can see how hard this is for you,” she said quietly.
“What are you talking about, Mom?” Andrey tensed.
“Our situation,” Valentina Petrovna sighed. “About how we couldn’t help you with the apartment.”
Andrey felt anger and hurt surge back. The warmth brought on by the baby’s birth evaporated in an instant.
“Mom,” Oleg cut in, “don’t do this now.”
But Valentina Petrovna seemed not to hear her younger son.
“Andryusha, how long can this go on? You’re a grown man—don’t you understand? Olezhek is young, he needed help. And you… you always managed on your own.”
Something clenched inside Andrey. A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone present seemed unsure how to react.
Lana stepped up, took his hand.
“Andrey, let’s go.”
He nodded, unable to speak. At the door he turned back and looked at his mother.
“You know, Mom—you’re right. I really have always managed on my own. And I’ll keep managing. Without you.”
With those words, he walked out, gripping Lana’s hand.
In the car, Andrey took a deep breath and looked at his wife.
“You know… I was thinking. Maybe we should try to talk everything through with my parents. When emotions cool down. For Misha’s sake.”
Lana looked at him tenderly.
“I’m proud of you. That’s a very grown-up decision.”
Andrey started the car. Ahead of them was their road—maybe harder, but their own. And they would walk it together, supporting each other and believing in their dream. And maybe, with time, that road would lead them back to reconciliation with the family
