So what exactly are you trying to tell me? That I should give up my apartment so you and your mommy can keep diving into scams together?”
“Come on, don’t get so worked up, Sasha, it’s my MOM… She didn’t mean any harm…”
“And who am I then, Maksim?! Some random passerby?!”
Alexandra stormed into the apartment like a tornado. Keys jingled in her bag, her phone was buzzing annoyingly, and there was a smear of chewing gum on her heel—everything as usual. Only the air already felt… off.
In the kitchen, as always, ruled Galina Pavlovna. Forever in a housecoat, forever with a look of reproach.
She turned around, wiping her hands on a checkered towel.
“Why are you so late? You could’ve come earlier, dinner’s gone cold.”
“Am I a schoolgirl now? Do I live by a timetable?” Alexandra muttered, throwing her bag onto a chair.
Maxim was sitting at the table, poking at his buckwheat like it was radioactive. He looked like a man who knows thunder is about to strike. And it’s going to hurt.
“Sasha…” he drawled, not meeting her eyes, “so, there’s this thing…”
“Maxim, did you lose your job again? Or did you forget to pay the internet bill? What is it this time?”
“No, it’s not that… Well… Mom’s apartment…” Maxim hunched his shoulders as if trying to pull his head into them.
Galina Pavlovna immediately hissed:
“What do you mean ‘Mom’s apartment’? It’s not ‘Mom’s’, it’s mine! And I’m an adult, I decide myself where to invest!”
Alexandra turned sharply.
“Wait. What did you do?”
“Well, there was this webinar… very respectable people… They were showing charts, talking about ‘return index’ and ‘multiple growth’…”
“And you, an ‘adult’, took out a loan against your apartment because of some indexes?!” Alexandra was almost shouting now. “Galina Pavlovna, do you even have a head on your shoulders?”
“They promised guaranteed income! Ten percent a month!”
“Oh, what is that, magic? Money out of thin air?” Alexandra laughed nervously, like someone whose nervous tic had just been prescribed for life. “Do you at least understand that they’re scammers?”
Maxim cut in gloomily:
“All the documents are legit. It’s just that right now they’re having ‘technical problems’. And their accounts got frozen…”
Alexandra pushed her chair back sharply.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. I want to hear everything. The whole story. No ‘well, sort of’. Start talking. Now.”
Galina Pavlovna straightened up. The manner of a prosecutor at an interrogation.
“I took out a loan secured by the apartment. Five million.”
“Five?!” Alexandra grabbed her head. “You’ve lost your mind!”
“Don’t you yell at me! I wanted what’s best for everyone! We could’ve bought new cars for all of us! Maxim could’ve started his own business!”
“Maxim can’t even put his socks together in pairs, and you wanted him to have a business!” Alexandra turned to her husband. “You knew?”
“Well… yeah. But I thought it was a small amount…”
“A small amount?! This is your HOME! Where are you going to live when the bank takes the apartment?”
And then came the most disgusting proposal of the evening.
“We were thinking… maybe you could sell your apartment. It’s sitting empty anyway. We’d pay off the loan. Then we’d earn more. We’d pay you back, for sure!”
“Let me get this straight.” Alexandra sat down. “You want me to SELL MY apartment, bought with MY money, to cover your brilliant stunt?”
“It’s for the family, Sasha,” Maxim said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You know… We’re family…”
“And when was the last time you did anything for this family, Maxim? You only take out the trash when I threaten you with a frying pan!” Her voice was shaking with rage.
Galina Pavlovna gave her a long measuring look.
“Stop with the hysterics. I never liked you from day one. It’s always ‘mine’, ‘I won’t share’, ‘I earned it myself’. You’re greedy, Sasha. That’s not how a woman should be.”
“And how should a woman be? Mortgage her apartment and play the victim?” Alexandra jumped up. “You live in my place, you eat at my expense, you use up my electricity, you wash all your stuff in my machine… And you still dare pressure me?”
“Your apartment is sheer luck, not something you earned,” her mother-in-law snapped. “Who would even marry you with your character?”
Alexandra froze.
There it was, the real face. Without the mask of the “sweet mother of Maxim.”
“I’m done,” she said quietly. “You’re moving out tomorrow.”
“What do you mean, ‘moving out’?!” Galina shrieked. “I have court in a month, they’re going to evict me!”
“That’s not my problem. You had a chance. You blew it. Now it’s over.”
Maxim jumped up:
“Wait! Sasha, you can’t do this! She’s my mother! She’ll end up on the street! You’re not a monster, are you?”
“And you’re not a child, Maxim. Grow up at least once in your life.”
“So you want me to choose between you?”
“I want you to finally understand that actions have consequences. Good luck with your mom.”
She grabbed her bag and rushed to the door as if an army of debt collectors were chasing her.
Behind her she heard a shriek:
“Oh, that’s how it is?! So some stranger means more to you than family?!”
Alexandra stopped on the threshold and turned around.
“I’m not a stranger. I’m the only person in this ‘family’ who actually built anything with her own hands. And now—yes, I am a stranger. Thanks to you.”
The door slammed. All that was left in the hallway was silence and the smell of a cooling dinner.
Four days passed.
Four days of silence, like before an earthquake. No calls, no messages, no knocking at the door—as if their little family had just evaporated. Only Alexandra knew: that silence was fake. Before the storm, it’s always sunny. And then everything goes to hell.
On the fifth day, Maxim showed up.
No call, no warning. He was just standing at the door with two bags from Pyaterochka, as if they’d randomly met by the dumpsters and decided to have some tea.
“Open up,” he said, knocking with his palm on the door. “Don’t be scared, I come in peace.”
Alexandra opened. In pajamas, a face mask on, bunny-ear slippers on her feet. Hideous and furious—the perfect image of a divorced fury.
“What do you want?” Her voice was icy.
“I missed you…” Maxim coughed and quickly added, “And anyway, we need to talk. Like adults.”
“Seriously? You suddenly became an adult?”
“Sash, come on…” He shrugged. “I don’t want everything to just fall apart like this.”
“If you don’t want things to fall apart, don’t shove your mother into scams, don’t live off someone else, and don’t try to solve problems at my expense.”
He stepped into the apartment as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t kicked him out. As if their life were a chain of bad jokes and now it was time for the punchline.
“I was thinking… We could take a break. Just for a while. I’ll stay with Mom. You stay here. And then, maybe, we’ll figure things out somehow.”
“Do you get your lines from TV shows?” Alexandra rolled her eyes. “You’re already living with your mom. And it’s not a ‘break’, it’s permanent.”
Maxim sat down on the edge of the couch. That’s what he always did—sat down and waited for things to sort themselves out.
“Listen. I… I talked to a lawyer. About Mom’s debt and apartment.”
“And what, did he also suggest a ‘break’?” Sasha asked sarcastically.
“He said… that if Mom doesn’t cover the debt within two months, she’ll be evicted. And she can’t get a new loan—her pension’s too small, and the apartment is already collateral.”
“What a tragedy,” she said dryly. “I’m about to shed a tear.”
“Sasha… She’s old. She’s starting to lose it. She doesn’t sleep at night. Thinks people are climbing in through the window.”
“Maybe they are. The ones she promised ten percent a month to.”
“You don’t understand…” Maxim suddenly jumped up. “Her whole life was for us! For me!”
“Her whole life was about control. About making sure you never learned to take responsibility for yourself!” Alexandra’s voice shook. “And now you both want me to pay for your upbringing!”
“We’re just asking for help. For a while.”
“And I’m just refusing. Forever.”
“So that’s how you treat your family…” he muttered, looking away.
“You’re not my family. You turned into furniture in your mother’s house. And I’m not moving in there.”
“I thought we were a team, Sasha.”
“And who do you captain with? Your mom? You even sort your socks by color with her!”
“Don’t exaggerate!” he squealed. “I don’t deserve this!”
“And I do?!” Alexandra stepped closer. “Do I deserve to have you try to take my apartment under the guise of ‘helping the family’? To be called greedy? For you to stand there and say nothing while your mother humiliates me?”
He stayed silent. Because there was nothing to say.
She opened the wardrobe, took a folder with papers, and tossed it onto the table.
“Here. Divorce papers. Sign.”
“You’ve gone crazy. You said you loved me…”
“Love isn’t a lifelong mortgage. And it’s definitely not a marriage with a bonus mother-in-law attached.”
Maxim took the papers and stood up. His shoulders sagged. His face went pale. He left without even slamming the door.
Alexandra sat down. Her hands were shaking. Not from fear—from adrenaline. That was it. Full stop.
A couple of hours later, a text came:
“I’ll pick up my things on the weekend. Mom’s in the hospital for now—blood pressure. We’ll figure out what to do with the debts later.”
She didn’t reply. There was nothing to “figure out.”
The next day, Alexandra changed the locks.
The locksmith—a bearded guy in blue overalls—remarked philosophically:
“You know, it’s usually women who change locks. After their ‘other half’ goes off to the left.”
“My other half went to the right. To his mommy,” she replied darkly.
“Well, that’s exactly where they all belong.”
Later that evening she sat with a glass of wine and her laptop. A friend had written to her:
“Sasha, you’re insane. In a good way. Maybe we should just take off somewhere? Italy? I found cheap tickets for September.”
And suddenly everything went quiet inside. Calm. As if everything had finally settled into place.
Alexandra took a slow sip of wine and answered:
“Book them. I’m in. And when I’m back, maybe I’ll change my last name too. I’m sick to death of all these Pavlovnas.”
Alexandra never thought she’d see Galina Pavlovna in a suit and holding a folder of documents. But there they were, sitting in the courthouse corridor. Wooden benches, gray walls, and the smell of stale cigarette smoke in the coats. As if someone had specifically ordered the setting: “divorce with a touch of Soviet melodrama.”
Maxim sat nearby. In a wrinkled shirt, clutching a plastic file folder, his eyes darting. Between him and his mother hung a heavy silence. No “Mommy”, no “Sonny.” Sasha thought: looks like they’re having fun without me too…
Galina Pavlovna was silent. No—that’s wrong—temporarily not speaking. She’d been storing it up for too long. And as soon as the bailiff called them into the courtroom, she started:
“This is all your fault. You destroyed the family! Threw my son out on the street!”
“I didn’t bring him from the maternity ward. He’s an adult. He could try understanding that at least once,” Alexandra replied calmly.
“You predator. You lured him in, grabbed the apartment, and now you want a quick divorce. Well, no, I’m going to tell them everything!”
“Please do. Tell them how you mortgaged your own apartment to get into a pyramid scheme. I think the judge will be very interested,” Alexandra said with a fake polite smile.
The judge turned out to be a dry woman of about fifty with a face that said, “I have grandkids, let’s not turn this into a circus.” She raised an eyebrow as she looked over the paperwork.
“Well then, citizens Pavlov. Getting a divorce, are we?”
“Yes,” Sasha said calmly.
“No!” Galina suddenly shouted.
The judge even adjusted her glasses.
“Excuse me, and you are?”
“His mother! I’m his mother! I object to this divorce!”
The judge tapped her pen on the desk.
“No one asked you, ma’am. This is a civil case between the spouses.”
“She destroyed our family! She refused to help when we were in trouble!” Galina’s voice was shaking with rage. “She even kicked my son out!”
“Your son left of his own accord,” Sasha said evenly. “He chose his mother over his family.”
“I didn’t choose you,” Maxim suddenly said. Quiet, but clear. “I just… didn’t know what the right thing to do was.”
The judge glanced at him, squinting a little.
“So both of you agree to the divorce?”
“Yes,” he nodded.
And that was it. Five minutes—and their entire “family fortress” burst like a cheap plastic shopping bag. Alexandra didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
As soon as they left the courtroom, Galina pounced on her and hissed fast and venomous, her voice dripping poison:
“I’ll destroy you. You think it all ends just like that? I’ll prove in court you owe us! You’re part of our family whether you like it or not!”
Alexandra laughed. A real laugh, from the gut.
“You’re judging me as an ex-daughter-in-law. But now I’m just a random woman. To you. And to your son. Live with that.”
“You… you’ll regret this!” Galina hissed, clutching at her heart.
“Oh, I already regret something. That I put up with you for three years.”
Maxim had been standing off to the side the whole time. No voice, no opinion—like always. Galina whispered something into his ear, but he only shrugged.
And walked away.
Alexandra walked away too. She stepped outside, inhaled the air. Cold, alive—as if the whole city was saying: so, girl, you’re free now?
The next morning at the airport she felt no anxiety, no doubt. Only lightness.
“Rome, get ready. I don’t have a mother-in-law anymore. Or a husband. There’s just me. And I’m, you know, not half bad…” she thought, tossing her suitcase onto the belt.
And for the first time in a long while—she smiled.
