Galina stepped out of her apartment and locked the door behind her. Punctuality wasn’t exactly her talent—she was always running late. Her husband often scolded her for it, but what could she do? That was just the way she was. And honestly, Kolya had long since learned to live with it.
Her mother-in-law, however, never let her forget a single flaw.
“Galya, seriously—where did you leave your brain today?”
Galina exhaled slowly. Truth be told, she didn’t want to go to her husband’s parents’ anniversary celebration at all—especially not on her own. But Kolya was away on a business trip. She couldn’t exactly skip a family milestone without causing a scandal. So she promised herself that today, for once, she’d leave early.
Because otherwise she’d spend the evening not quietly “sitting through” the party, but listening to a united chorus of relatives describing what a useless scatterbrain she was.
She loaded the gifts into the car. She had tried hard this time: a planetary stand mixer for her mother-in-law so she wouldn’t have to knead dough by hand anymore, and a modern fishing rod for her father-in-law. It cost Galina a small fortune—she’d even had to cut back on her own expenses.
But even after twenty years, she still wanted her husband’s parents to like her, no matter how impossible that seemed.
She climbed into the driver’s seat, tossed her purse onto the passenger side, and started the engine. In her head she rehearsed her plan: arrive, congratulate everyone, hand over the gifts. Sit politely at the table, talk as little as possible—especially to Aunt Lyuba. That woman always interrogated her about children (Galina and Kolya didn’t have any), then Galina would slip out early with a respectable excuse.
The road to her in-laws’ country house ran through beautiful scenery, but Galina noticed none of it. She tapped her fingers nervously on the steering wheel, thinking about her dress. The pale pink made her look washed out and older. Why didn’t I wear the blue one?
She arrived quickly—within thirty minutes. Too quickly, really. But she wasn’t eager to walk straight into the “piranha tank” yet. She stayed in the car for a moment, scrolling through social media, then forced herself out. If she hesitated too long, all her effort would be wasted.
Galina grabbed the heavy bags of gifts and headed for the house. Her heart was hammering.
The front door was slightly open. Loud voices and laughter spilled out. Galina stepped into the entryway, set the bags down, and began unbuttoning her coat. No one had even noticed she’d arrived.
She pulled off her boots, placed them on the mat, and hung her coat on a hook. Just as she was about to walk into the living room, she stopped dead.
She heard what their “beloved” relatives were talking about.
She recognized Aunt Lyuba’s voice instantly—sharp and piercing like a siren. Galina decided not to reveal herself yet. She stayed still and listened.
“See? I told you!” boomed Uncle Petya, Kolya’s brother. “This house is shared property! It came from Grandma, so it should be split equally!”
“Petya is absolutely right!” Aunt Lyuba chimed in. “Why should she sit there alone like a queen?”
Galina felt dizzy. Were they talking about their house? She stood frozen, unable to believe her ears. She thought that matter had been settled long ago. Kolya’s grandmother—may she rest in peace—had clearly stated in her will that the house went to her grandson. She’d been a wise woman and didn’t want her legacy to turn into a family war.
“And why didn’t Kolya say anything when the will was read?” someone asked.
“What could he say?” Aunt Lyuba snorted. “He’s under her heel. Too scared to disagree with her!”
“The house is big,” sighed Uncle Petya’s wife, Aunt Sveta, dreamily. “There’s room for everyone. We could move in for a while with the kids. You know our situation… with the apartment…”
“That’s a great idea!” Aunt Lyuba exclaimed.
“I’ve said it for years,” Uncle Petya continued, “Grandma was kind, sure—but she wasn’t thinking clearly. A house like that going to Kolya alone? It’s ridiculous!”
“And who’s behind it?” Aunt Lyuba added with disgust. “That Galya of his. And they don’t even have children—so there won’t be any heirs at all. Then what? Who gets the house? It should belong to the family!”
“And she lives there like the rightful owner,” Aunt Sveta said with envy in her voice. “Made herself comfortable. Meanwhile, we’re crammed into a two-bedroom with the kids—no space to breathe. Is it really that hard to give us at least one room?”
Galina couldn’t believe it. The very people she’d spent years trying to please were plotting behind her back—discussing her home as if she didn’t even exist.
“And that Galya,” Aunt Lyuba went on, “she’s a sly fox. She must’ve trained Kolya to keep quiet. He’s so trusting, poor thing…”
“We need to do something,” Uncle Petya declared decisively.
“But what?” Aunt Sveta complained. “Kolya’s stubborn as a mule. If he’s decided the house is his, you’ll never talk him out of it.”
“We don’t need to talk him out of it,” Aunt Lyuba said, narrowing her eyes with a crafty look. “We’ll make it so he gives it to us himself.”
“How?” Uncle Petya and Aunt Sveta asked at once.
“Like this,” Aunt Lyuba said. “Remember how Grandma complained about headaches? And the doctors never really said what it was?”
Uncle Petya and Aunt Sveta exchanged looks.
“Yeah… I remember,” Uncle Petya said uneasily. “So?”
“I know a doctor,” Aunt Lyuba continued. “He can write an opinion that Grandma had mental issues in her last months—say dementia was starting. Which means the will can be declared invalid.”
“Exactly!” Uncle Petya shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “Brilliant! And then?”
“Then we file a lawsuit,” Aunt Lyuba said triumphantly. “We challenge the will. We prove she wasn’t competent. And we split the house evenly between all heirs.”
“And if Kolya refuses?” Aunt Sveta asked nervously.
“What choice will he have?” Aunt Lyuba scoffed. “The law will be on our side. And who’s going to listen to Galya? She’s nobody. God didn’t even give them children.”
“But how do we prove dementia?” Uncle Petya asked. “What if the doctors don’t confirm it?”
“They will,” Aunt Lyuba said confidently. “Everything is arranged. My contact is a top specialist—he’ll do it properly. We just need a couple of witnesses to say Grandma ‘wasn’t herself.’ That won’t be hard. In the village there are always people willing to talk for a little money. And then we’ll divide the profit and finally buy decent apartments in the city.”
They kept building their scheme, point by point. Galina decided she wouldn’t let them see that she’d heard a single word. Let them believe she was clueless. Let them feel untouchable. She would play the naive fool they’d always taken her for—and quietly find a way to protect her home and her family.
With effort, she put on her polite “party smile” and walked into the living room.
“Hi, everyone! Sorry I’m late—traffic was awful!” she chirped.
“Galочка, sweetheart, come in!” Aunt Lyuba sang in a voice that was far too sugary to be sincere. “We’ve been waiting forever!”
All evening, Galina played her part: smiling, nodding, agreeing at the right moments—while carefully watching every single one of them.
The moment she got home, she called her friend Svetlana, an experienced lawyer, and told her everything.
“Galya,” Svetlana said, “it’s messy, but not hopeless. Aunt Lyuba is clever, sure—but the law is on your side. If the will was properly executed, it’s hard to overturn. The key is getting a strong attorney. I’ll recommend someone. He’s excellent at cases like this—Igor Petrovich. Call him tomorrow.”
The next day, Galina met with the attorney. After listening, he said:
“Galina, our chances are very good. But we must move quickly. We need evidence—proof that your grandmother was of sound mind when she made the will. And we have to be prepared for dirty tactics. We need to stay one step ahead.”
The following weeks turned into a whirlwind. Galina and Igor Petrovich gathered documents, tracked down witnesses, and built their case. She was surprised how many people were willing to support her. The relatives didn’t sit still either: they spread rumors, tried to ruin Galina’s reputation, and pressured Kolya to give up the house. But he turned out to be far less gullible than they’d assumed.
The trial dragged on. The relatives produced a forged medical opinion—but Igor Petrovich exposed their lie brilliantly. In the end, the court ruled in favor of Galina and Kolya.
After that, they cut contact with those relatives for good.
