Listen, Liz, I talked it over with Kostik,” Dima said, turning his phone over in his hands without looking at his wife. “He says it’s stupid to keep the apartment only in your name. What if something happens? Then I’d have to prove my rights afterward.”
“What rights?” Liza froze with a towel in her hands. “This is Aunt Vera’s apartment.”
“It was your aunt’s. Now we’re a family, so everything’s shared. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Three weeks earlier they’d been standing on the steps of the civil registry office. An autumn downpour lashed at the guests’ umbrellas, and Liza laughed, lifting her face into the rain. Her veil was soaked through, but she didn’t care—Dima was standing beside her, her Dima, whom she’d married despite her friends’ warnings.
“Hurry up to the restaurant!” Galina Petrovna, Liza’s mother, shouted over the roar of the rain. “You’ll catch a cold!”
“Oh, Mom, come on!” Liza waved her off. “It’s a lucky sign!”
Viktor Sergeyevich, the bride’s father, silently held the umbrella over his wife, watching the groom. Dima stood off to the side, irritably shaking raindrops from his jacket.
“Dimochka, don’t get wet!” fussed Antonina Vasilyevna, the groom’s mother. “Get under the umbrella with Vadik!”
Vadim, Dima’s older brother, lazily held his umbrella out.
“Come on, squeeze in. Just don’t shove.”
At the restaurant, Dima’s sister Karina sat at the next table with her husband Oleg, loudly discussing the gifts.
“No, did you see it? Liz’s parents gave an envelope! An envelope! And we bought a dinner set for twenty thousand!”
“Lower your voice,” Oleg snapped. “They’ll hear you.”
“Let them hear!” Karina drained her champagne in one gulp. “That’s stinginess!”
Marina, Liza’s younger sister, sat opposite and rolled her eyes.
“Kar, seriously? Talking about money at a wedding?”
“So what? I’m saying it straight! Liz has a three-room place downtown, and they didn’t even offer Dima to move in before the wedding! They lived in a rented one-bedroom!”
“Because Aunt Vera left the apartment to Liza,” Galina Petrovna cut in, “on the condition she keeps everything as it is. Her things are there, her library…”
“Oh, please!” Antonina Vasilyevna waved her hand. “Things! Probably just old junk!”
After the third toast, Dima stood up and tapped his fork against his glass.
“Friends! I want to thank my friend and lawyer Konstantin! Kostik, come here!”
A tall dark-haired man in a suit approached the newlyweds.
“Happy for you guys! Dima, well done—you landed yourself a catch! Lucky with the apartment, too!”
Liza blushed.
“Thanks, but the apartment has nothing to do with it…”
“Oh, come on!” Konstantin winked. “We all get it! Dima, I’m expecting you tomorrow at my office. I’ll draw up the paperwork.”
“What paperwork?” Viktor Sergeyevich asked warily.
“Oh, just formalities!” Dima brushed it off. “I’ll tell you later!”
That same evening at home, Dima pulled a folder out of his briefcase.
“Liz, sign here and here.”
“What is this?”
“An application to re-register the apartment as joint property. Kostik prepared everything.”
“Dima, I told you—it’s Aunt Vera’s apartment. She left it to me with a condition…”
“I know your conditions!” her husband cut in irritably. “Keep the junk, don’t renovate—what a load of nonsense! We’re a family now. The apartment should be shared!”
“But I promised Aunt Vera…”
“Aunt Vera died three years ago! Stop living in the past!”
Galina Petrovna appeared in the doorway with a tray.
“I brought you some tea… Oh—are you busy?”
“Mom, come in,” Liza pushed the documents aside. “Dima wants to re-register the apartment.”
“That’s… that’s up to you,” Galina Petrovna said cautiously. “It’s just that Aunt Vera…”
“Mom, don’t interfere!” Dima snapped. “This is between me and Liza!”
The next morning Dima woke up early. He took a drill and a tape measure out of the closet.
“I’m setting up my office. In the room with the balcony.”
“That’s Aunt Vera’s library,” Liza mumbled sleepily.
“It was a library. We’ll shove the books up on the storage shelves. Or toss them—who needs them?”
“Dima, those are rare editions! Some of them are a hundred years old!”
“Exactly! They’ve been collecting dust for a hundred years!” He switched on the drill. “First I’ll take down the shelves, then I’ll put a desk in. Kostik said we can knock down a wall, make it more open.”
“What wall?!” Liza shot up in bed. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t yell! You’ll wake the neighbors! It’s a great idea—we’ll combine the room with the kitchen, make it a studio!”
“That’s a load-bearing wall!”
“And how would you know? What are you, an engineer?”
“Aunt Vera told me! She wanted renovations and brought in specialists!”
“Your aunt wanted lots of things!” Dima drilled into the wall. “Where’s the result?”
At lunchtime Antonina Vasilyevna came with Karina.
“Dimochka, we brought you curtains! For the office!”
“Thanks, Mom!” Dima kissed his mother on the cheek. “Liz, look!”
“Leopard print?” Liza stared at the fabric, confused. “For the library?”
“The former library,” Karina corrected. “Now it’s the director’s office!”
“Director of what?” Liza didn’t understand.
“What do you mean—of what? Dima’s opening a company! With Kostik! He didn’t tell you?”
“No…”
“Oh, I ruined the surprise!” Karina threw her hands up theatrically. “Dimochka, sorry!”
“It’s fine, she would’ve found out anyway!” Dima hugged his wife. “I wanted to tell you on our wedding anniversary, but since it’s out… Kostik and I are starting a construction company. He’s the investor, I’m the director.”
“And the money?” Liza asked quietly.
“What money? Kostik’s investing!”
“And the office?”
“It’ll be here! In my office.” He looked at her. “Why are you staring? It’s stupid to pay rent when you’ve got your own space!”
That evening Liza called her parents.
“Dad… can I come over?”
“What happened?” Viktor Sergeyevich asked, alarmed.
“I just… I need to talk.”
An hour later she was sitting in her childhood kitchen. Galina Petrovna poured tea in silence, her father frowned.
“Talk.”
“Dima wants to re-register the apartment. Put it in both our names. And set up an office there. He’s opening a company.”
“Fast mover,” Viktor Sergeyevich said, shaking his head. “Only three weeks.”
“Dad, what do I do? I don’t want to betray Aunt Vera’s memory, but I can’t exactly refuse my husband…”
“Do you love him?” her mother asked bluntly.
“I do… I think… I don’t even know anymore!”
“Liza,” her father said, sliding their apartment keys toward her. “If anything happens—come back. Your home is always open.”
“Dad, I’m married.”
“So what? Marriage isn’t hard labor. If you want to leave, you leave.”
When Liza got home, she found total chaos. In the former library there was a huge desk; books lay scattered on the floor. Dima and Konstantin were drinking cognac.
“Oh, the wife’s here!” Konstantin raised his glass. “To family happiness!”
“Kostik brought a contract,” Dima said, handing Liza some papers. “For the company. You’ll be listed as a founder.”
“Me? Why?”
“Why not?” Konstantin said, surprised. “The apartment’s still in your name for now! We need the owner’s address to register.”
“For now?” Liza repeated.
“Well, until you re-register it!” Konstantin grinned. “Dima said you’re going to the notary tomorrow!”
“I never said I’m going.”
“Liz, don’t start,” Dima snapped, pouring more cognac. “Not in front of my friend!”
“That’s exactly why I’m saying it in front of him. The apartment stays in my name. That’s Aunt Vera’s will.”
“The will of a dead woman!” Konstantin barked with laughter. “Dima, your wife’s into spiritualism!”
“Kostya, I think it’s time for you to go,” Liza said coldly.
“This is my friend!” Dima exploded. “Don’t you dare kick him out of our home!”
“My home,” Liza corrected. “For now—mine.”
That night Liza couldn’t sleep. Dima snored beside her, reeking of booze. She quietly got up and went into the wrecked library. She picked up a photo album from the floor—Aunt Vera smiled from the yellowed pictures.
“Forgive me, Auntie,” Liza whispered. “I promised I’d keep everything, and I…”
In the morning she woke to a crash. Dima and Vadim were hauling the bookcases out.
“Careful! That’s antique!” Antonina Vasilyevna shouted behind them.
“Mom, it’s junk! We’ll dump it in the trash!”
“STOP!” Liza blocked their way. “Where are you taking it?”
“Clearing space!” Vadim shoved her aside with his shoulder. “Move!”
“Those are MY things!”
“Ours!” Dima roared. “Ours, got it? We’re family!”
“If we’re family, why didn’t you ask my opinion?”
“What’s there to ask? Kostik said we need an office. So there’ll be an office!”
“Kostik said!” Liza mimicked him. “And what your wife says doesn’t matter?”
“Don’t hysterical,” Dima barked, grabbing another shelf. “Vadik, help!”
Liza lunged for her phone.
“Marina? Come NOW! Bring Dad!”
Half an hour later the apartment turned into a battlefield. On one side: Dima and his relatives. On the other: Liza, her parents, and her sister.
“This is private property!” Viktor Sergeyevich yelled. “You have no right!”
“I’m her husband!” Dima shouted back. “I have every right!”
“By law the apartment belongs to Liza!” Marina cut in.
“Oh, shove your laws!” Karina snapped. “She didn’t earn that little apartment—she inherited it!”
“And so what?” Galina Petrovna protested. “Does that change anything?”
“It changes everything!” Antonina Vasilyevna stabbed a finger at her. “Your daughter’s greedy! She begrudges her own husband!”
“Dimochka spent all evening drawing up documents!” Karina wailed. “For the family!”
“What family?” Liza finally broke. “For your company with Kostik?”
“None of your business!” Dima barked. “If I want, I’ll start ten companies!”
“Go ahead! Just not in MY apartment!”
“Oh, in yours?” Dima hurled a book onto the floor. “So you don’t trust your husband?”
“After what you pulled? No!”
“Then go crawling back to your parents!” he kicked the fallen volume. “And take your precious apartment with you!”
“No—you go!” Liza screamed. “Get out! All of you!”
“Dimochka, she can’t throw you out!” Antonina Vasilyevna sobbed. “You’re married!”
“That means nothing,” Viktor Sergeyevich cut in. “The apartment is pre-marital and in my daughter’s name. LEAVE peacefully.”
“Yeah, right!” Vadim blocked the door. “Dima’s already registered here!”
“What?” Liza went pale. “When did that happen?”
“Yesterday!” Konstantin announced triumphantly, stepping out of the kitchen. “I took care of all the paperwork! Now Dima’s a full legal resident here!”
“You… you…” Liza couldn’t breathe. “That’s fraud!”
“That’s the law, sweetheart!” Konstantin waved a folder. “A husband has the right to be registered!”
“Exactly!” Dima dropped into the chair. “So you’re the ones who should leave MY home!”
“Not yours!” Marina rushed to her sister. “Liz, don’t stay silent!”
“Let him choke on it,” Liza suddenly said calmly. “Let him live here. I’m leaving.”
“What?” Dima stared. “Where are you going?”
“To my parents’. For now.”
“And don’t you dare come back!” he yelled after her. “I’ll change the locks!”
“Dimochka’s right!” Antonina Vasilyevna chimed in. “A wife shouldn’t run from her husband!”
“This isn’t running,” Liza said, taking only her handbag. “It’s a decision.”
“Liz, what about your things?” Marina asked.
“I’ll take them later. When he’s not here.”
“He won’t be here?” Dima laughed. “I’m here for good now! Office, company—everything!”
“We’ll see,” Liza threw over her shoulder as she walked out.
“Yeah, we’ll see!” Konstantin shouted after her. “In a month you’ll come crawling back!”
A month passed. Liza lived with her parents and didn’t answer Dima’s calls. First he threatened her, then begged her to come back, then threatened her again.
“Sweetheart, maybe you should talk to him?” Galina Petrovna suggested timidly.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Mom. He showed his true face.”
“But you were married…”
“We weren’t married in church. Only at the registry office. Thank God.”
Marina brought news every day.
“Can you believe it? They started renovations! The neighbors are complaining!”
“Let them. Their problem now.”
“Liz, but the apartment is yours!”
“I know. I have a plan.”
Two weeks later an unfamiliar number called.
“Yelizaveta Viktorovna? This is the management company. We’ve received complaints about your apartment.”
“What complaints?”
“Illegal remodeling, noise, and an office set up without permission. Can you come in?”
“I can.”
In the apartment, Liza didn’t recognize her aunt’s cozy nest. The walls were painted black. Instead of bookcases, there were file racks everywhere, computers on every surface.
“What are you doing here?” Dima burst out of the office. “I told you not to show up!”
“I was called. Neighbors’ complaints.”
“What complaints? Everything’s legal!”
“Under what law did you knock down a wall?” the management company representative asked. “Do you have a permit?”
“Kostik said we don’t need one!” Vadim blurted.
“Kostik was wrong,” Liza said coolly. “That was a load-bearing wall.”
“Was it, wasn’t it—who cares?” Dima snarled. “It’s my apartment!”
“Mine,” Liza corrected. “Here are the documents.”
“We’ll sort it out,” the representative nodded. “For now, stop all work.”
After he left, Dima lunged at his wife.
“You did this on purpose! You ratted us out!”
“I didn’t! The neighbors called! You don’t let them sleep!”
“This is all because of you!” he screamed. “Because of your greed!”
“No. Because of your nerve!”
Konstantin appeared in the doorway.
“What’s all this noise?”
“Liz came and brought an inspection!”
“Not me. The neighbors.”
“Doesn’t matter!” Konstantin stepped close. “Listen up, sweetheart. We’re doing business here. Serious business. Don’t even think about getting in the way.”
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll regret it.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you.”
Liza pulled out her phone.
“Hello, Marina? Write this down—someone is threatening me in my apartment. Konstantin… what’s your last name?”
“What are you doing?” he blurted.
“Documenting threats. For the police.”
“Go to hell!” Konstantin stormed out.
“And you get out too!” Dima yelled. “Tomorrow I’m filing for divorce!”
“Perfect. I’m waiting.”
As she left, Liza heard Antonina Vasilyevna wailing:
“Dimochka, don’t rush! She’ll come to her senses!”
“She won’t, Mom! Kostik has a new plan. We’ll take the apartment through court—as marital property!”
“But it’s pre-marital…”
“Kostik’s a lawyer! He knows loopholes!”
The divorce papers arrived three days later. Liza signed without even reading. Viktor Sergeyevich frowned.
“Maybe we should hire a lawyer?”
“No, Dad. I have a different plan.”
“What plan?”
“You’ll see.”
A week later the management company called again.
“Yelizaveta Viktorovna, come urgently! There’s an emergency at your apartment!”
Inside were police officers, neighbors, and representatives from the housing inspection. Dima sat pale on a chair while Konstantin argued with a policeman.
“This is a misunderstanding! We were just renovating!”
“Renovating?” The major pointed to a huge crack in the wall. “You damaged a load-bearing wall! The whole building is at risk!”
“We didn’t know!” Vadim stammered.
“Didn’t know?” The major turned to Liza. “Are you the owner?”
“Yes.”
“Did you give permission for remodeling?”
“No. On the contrary, I told them not to touch anything. Here’s the message history.”
She showed texts where she begged Dima not to touch the walls.
“Understood. Gentlemen, you’re coming with us.”
“For what?” Konstantin shouted. “We didn’t break any laws!”
“Illegal remodeling, endangering residents’ lives, operating an office in a residential unit without permission. Want me to continue?”
“She set it up!” Dima screamed. “She did it on purpose!”
“Set up what?” the major said, baffled. “The crack? You made it yourselves.”
“Konstantin said it was allowed!”
“I’m not a builder!” Konstantin snapped. “I’m a lawyer!”
“Then we’ll figure out who you are,” the major nodded to his officers. “Take them.”
When they were led away, Liza stayed with the foreman.
“How bad is it?”
“The wall has to be restored. Urgently. Otherwise the building can split. About three million.”
“Got it.”
A month later the divorce hearing took place. Dima sat slumped; Antonina Vasilyevna wrung her hands beside him. Konstantin wasn’t there—fake documents had been found on other projects and a criminal case was opened.
“Your Honor,” Dima’s lawyer began, “my client asks to split property equally.”
“What property?” the judge asked.
“The wife’s apartment.”
“The apartment was acquired before marriage and inherited. The spouses lived together for two months. I see no grounds for division.”
“But there was business activity there!”
“Illegal business activity, as I understand from the case materials?”
“It was a misunderstanding…”
“A misunderstanding worth three million,” Liza’s lawyer said. “My client demands compensation for damages from the illegal remodeling.”
“What?!” Dima sprang up. “She allowed it!”
“Where’s the proof?”
“Kostik will testify!”
“Konstantin Pavlov is under investigation. His testimony cannot be accepted.”
The judge struck the gavel.
“Court decision: grant the divorce. The property is not subject to division. Order the defendant to compensate damages in the amount of three million rubles. Evict the defendant from the plaintiff’s apartment within one week.”
“This is wrong!” Antonina Vasilyevna shrieked. “She used him!”
“Hearing adjourned.”
That evening Liza sat in her parents’ apartment. Galina Petrovna hugged her.
“You did well. You stood your ground.”
“It was hard, Mom.”
“I know. But you managed.”
Viktor Sergeyevich poured tea.
“What will you do now?”
“I’ll restore the apartment. The way Aunt Vera wanted. I’ll bring the library back.”
“And marriage?” Marina asked carefully.
“I don’t know. Maybe someday. But definitely not to someone who starts dividing property the moment he walks in the door.”
The phone rang. Dima’s number.
“Don’t pick up,” her father advised.
“I will. One last time.”
“Hello.”
“Liz, it’s me. Listen… can we meet? Talk?”
“About what?”
“Well… maybe we can fix everything? Start over?”
“Dima, are you serious?”
“Yes! I realized my mistakes! Kostik set me up, my relatives pushed me… but I love you!”
“Love me? Or love my apartment too?”
“What does the apartment have to do with it? Forget it! I need you!”
“Really? Then why was the first thing you did after the wedding to run and re-register it?”
“Kostik advised it! I was stupid, I listened!”
“Dima, let’s be honest. Did you marry me because of the apartment?”
“No! I mean… it played a part too… but I really—”
“That’s enough. Goodbye.”
“Wait! Liz! Where am I supposed to get three million? I don’t have that kind of money!”
“That’s your problem. You wanted to be a businessman, didn’t you? So solve your business problems.”
Six months passed. Liza sat in Aunt Vera’s restored library. A ginger cat named Barsik, adopted from a shelter, purred on her lap. The bookcases were back, the antique volumes neatly arranged. The apartment breathed warmth and history again.
Her phone lay nearby, but she ignored it. Over the last few months Dima called less and less—first asking for delays, then begging to be forgiven the debt, and then falling silent.
“Mrr-mrr,” Barsik stretched and stared at her with yellow eyes.
“You’re right, kitty,” Liza smiled. “We don’t need anyone else.”
The doorbell rang. A bailiff stood on the doorstep with papers.
“Yelizaveta Viktorovna? The debt has been paid in full. Here’s your certificate.”
“Thank you. And how is the debtor doing?”
“Badly. His car was seized, his share in his parents’ apartment was frozen. His mother sold her home to bail him out.”
The bailiff left. Liza closed the door and returned to the library. A stack of work waited on the table—she’d gotten a job translating old texts; Aunt Vera’s teachings finally came in handy.
At the same time, across town, Dima sat in a rented little room. There was almost no furniture—just an old bed and a plastic table. On the table sat a cheap cup of instant noodles and a pack of cigarettes.
“Dima, you there?” a neighbor in the communal flat shouted from the hallway. “Someone’s calling you!”
He shuffled to the shared phone in the entryway.
“Hello?”
“Hey, bro!” Vadim’s voice sounded cold. “Mom’s in the hospital. Her blood pressure spiked after selling the apartment.”
“How is she?”
“Bad. The doctors say it’s stress. Can you imagine why? Because of your debts!”
“Vadik, I didn’t want—”
“You didn’t want to! Who forced you? Who listened to that crook Kostik?”
“Where is she? I’ll come.”
“Don’t. She asked not to let you in. Said she’s had enough of your problems.”
Vadim hung up. Dima stayed in the filthy corridor, listening to the dial tone.
An hour later he met Kostik near the metro. Kostik looked even worse—his suit wrinkled, three-day stubble, fear darting in his eyes.
“Dimon, help me!” Kostik grabbed his sleeve. “I got a suspended sentence, but clients from other sites want their money back! They’re not joking!”
“I’ve got nothing myself! Mom sold her apartment because of your advice!”
“Listen, maybe we go to Liza?” Kostik glanced around. “She got compensation…”
“Are you insane? After what we did?”
“What have we got to lose?” Kostik’s eyes flicked left and right. “Creditors are on my heels. They’re threatening to break my knees.”
“That’s your problem! Don’t drag me into it anymore!”
Dima turned and walked away. Behind him Kostik yelled something about friendship and loyalty, but Dima didn’t look back.
The next day Antonina Vasilyevna called herself.
“Dimochka? It’s Mom.”
“Mom! How are you? Where are you?”
“In cardiology. Dimochka, I want to tell you… you’re very dear to me, but I won’t help you anymore.”
“Mom, I understand…”
“No, you don’t. You were spoiled. Your father and I pampered you, let you do anything. And now you think the whole world owes you.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is. Liza was a good girl. But you didn’t see a wife in her—you saw a source of profit. Like Kostik taught you.”
“Mom, I loved her…”
“You loved the apartment. Admit it to yourself honestly.”
Dima said nothing.
“I sold the apartment and paid off your debt,” his mother continued. “Now I live with Vadik in a one-room place. We take turns sleeping—he works nights, I sleep in the day.”
“Forgive me…”
“Too late. But you still have a chance to become a normal person. Find work. Any work. Earn honestly. And forget easy money.”
“Mom…”
“Bye, son. Get better on your own.”
Liza put fresh flowers next to Aunt Vera’s photograph on the bookshelf.
“Thank you, Auntie. For the lesson. For teaching me to value what’s real, not chase ghosts.”
Barsik rubbed against her legs and purred. Outside, the sun was shining; inside there was peace and order. On the kitchen table lay a contract for a new translation project—interesting work, well paid.
Life was beautiful. At last, it belonged only to her.
And Dima got a job as a loader in a warehouse. Every day he hauled boxes for twelve hours, earned pennies, and rented a bunk in a dorm. Kostik disappeared without a trace—rumor had it the creditors finally caught up with him. Karina and her husband stopped answering calls; Vadim spoke only when necessary.
At night Dima lay on a narrow bed and thought about how different everything could have been if he hadn’t listened to Kostik—if he’d simply loved his wife instead of her real estate.
But it was too late. Liza had found her happiness—quiet, honest, real. And his dreams of easy profit had turned into a reality where he was left with nothing.
Justice prevailed, just as wise Aunt Vera had willed it: real values always defeat fake ones
