Victoria found out she was pregnant in early March, when heavy, pitted snow still lay outside the windows. Dmitry hugged her so tightly then that she laughed and asked him not to break her ribs. They had been together for only six months, but both of them knew this was serious. Three weeks after the two lines appeared on the test, they had a quiet wedding with only their closest people present.
Dmitry’s apartment was a one-room place, but it was bright, with high ceilings. It had not come to him through inheritance or as a gift. He had worked for five years under a special contract, earning next to nothing, but at the end of it, the apartment became his property. Victoria knew that story by heart and respected her husband for his endurance.
Nina Pavlovna’s first visit after the wedding stayed in Victoria’s memory for a long time. She came with a cake, inspected the apartment as if she were taking inventory, and over tea said a sentence that made Victoria’s fingers go cold.
“Dima, are you absolutely sure the child is yours?”
Dmitry slowly placed his cup on the table.
“Mother, if you ever say anything like that again, I will ask you to leave. Not just today. From our life completely.”
“Oh, Lord, I only asked! Apparently, one cannot say a word anymore. Vika, don’t be offended. I’m his mother. I’m supposed to worry.”
Victoria smiled softly and patiently, the way she knew how.
“Nina Pavlovna, I understand. He is your only son, and you want the best for him. I want that too. Let’s just try to get along.”
“Get along?” Nina Pavlovna raised one eyebrow. “We’ll see.”
That “we’ll see” hung between them like a thin crack in glass. Victoria decided not to pay attention to it. She believed that time would put everything in its place, that a granddaughter would melt the ice, and that one day her mother-in-law would accept her as family. Naivety is an expensive luxury.
Arina was born in October. She was tiny, loud, and had her father’s dark eyes. Dmitry stayed awake at night, cooked porridge, washed diapers, and never once complained. Victoria looked at him and thought she was lucky.
“You’re a wonderful father,” she told him one night, when Arina had finally fallen asleep.
“I’m just doing what I should. She’s my daughter.”
“Not all men see it that way.”
“Then you got the right model,” he smiled, and that smile filled her with warmth.
Nina Pavlovna came once a week. She held Arina carefully, as if the baby were a porcelain vase, and every time she found something to criticize: the formula was the wrong temperature, the diaper was wrong, the little blouse was wrong. Victoria nodded and agreed. She endured it.
The phone rang on a Saturday morning. Dmitry spoke for about twenty minutes, and Victoria could hear his voice gradually becoming colder. When he hung up, his face was like stone.
“What happened?”
“Aunt Galina called. She suggests that my mother move in with us, and Kristina move into my mother’s apartment.”
“Kristina? Your cousin? Why?”
“Apparently, she can’t build a personal life while she lives with her mother and Anton. The three of them are cramped together. She needs separate housing so she can ‘blossom.’”
Victoria sat down on the edge of the bed. Arina was sleeping in her crib nearby, breathing softly.
“Dima, we have one room. Where are we supposed to put a bed for your mother? On the ceiling?”
“I know. And I already said no.”
“And Aunt Galina?”
“She got offended. She said I was ungrateful and that my mother had done so much for me.”
“You’re not ungrateful. You’re sane.”
But Aunt Galina was not used to backing down. Three days later, Nina Pavlovna called in a quiet, wounded voice.
“Dima, you could at least meet us halfway. Kristina is twenty-seven and still hasn’t dated anyone. Galya is desperate.”
“Mother, Kristina has legs and a head on her shoulders. She can rent an apartment, like millions of other people do.”
“With what money? Galya doesn’t have extra funds.”
“And I do? I have a wife, a baby, and thirty-two square meters.”
“I could sleep in the kitchen…”
“Mother. No.”
Nina Pavlovna fell silent, but Victoria felt it was not over. It was not even the middle. It was only the warm-up.
The problem appeared because of Victoria herself. Two months later, during dinner at her mother-in-law’s place, she accidentally mentioned that she had her own apartment, left to her by her grandfather, a war veteran. She said it casually, while they were talking about housing prices, and immediately regretted it.
Nina Pavlovna seized on that information like a cat catching a ball of yarn.
“Wait. You have an apartment? A separate one?”
“Yes, but my cousin Yegor lives there. His father, Uncle Pyotr, pays rent every month.”
“Then throw him out! Let Kristina move in there. You’re not using it anyway.”
Victoria looked at her mother-in-law for a long moment.
“Nina Pavlovna, Yegor is my relative. He lives there by agreement. I will not evict him for someone I barely know.”
“Kristina is not ‘someone you barely know’! She is your husband’s cousin!”
“That does not automatically make her a tenant in my apartment.”
Dmitry stood up from the table.
“Mother, this conversation is over. Vika is right. It is her apartment, and the decision is hers.”
“Oh, so now it’s ‘her decision’!” Nina Pavlovna narrowed her eyes. “And when she married you, I suppose she didn’t say, ‘It’s my decision to get pregnant as quickly as possible,’ did she?”
The silence that followed was so deep that the ticking clock in the hallway became audible. Victoria stood up, took her bag from the sofa, and left without saying a word. Dmitry followed her a minute later. He did not ask anything. He simply started the car and drove them home.
After that dinner, Victoria stopped visiting her mother-in-law. Dmitry visited his mother alone, and each time he came back darker than a storm cloud. The pressure did not ease; it only changed form.
First, Kristina herself called. Her voice was sweet, like an overripe peach.
“Vika, hi! Listen, Aunt Nina told me you have a free apartment. I’d love to rent it, for a symbolic price, of course. We’re family, right?”
“Kristina, the apartment is not free. My cousin lives there.”
“Well, he can move somewhere else, can’t he? It’s easier for a man. He could even live in a dormitory.”
“Yegor is not moving anywhere. We have an agreement with his father. Sorry.”
“Vika, are you serious? You’re refusing your husband’s family for some distant cousin?”
“First cousin. And yes, I’m serious.”
Kristina hung up. An hour later, Aunt Galina called, and her tone was completely different now. No honey, no sugar — only vinegar.
“Victoria, I want to speak to you as one grown woman to another.”
“I’m listening, Galina Pavlovna.”
“Do you understand that your stubbornness is ruining my daughter’s life? Kristina has nowhere to meet young men. Anton is always home, I’m always home. She has no private life!”
“I sympathize with the situation, but it is not my responsibility.”
“Not yours? Then whose is it? You’re sitting on two apartments like a dog in the manger!”
“I am living in one apartment with my husband and child. The second apartment is my property, and I will manage it as I see fit.”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” Aunt Galina said and hung up.
Victoria told Dmitry everything. He listened in silence, then picked up his phone and called his aunt.
“Galina Pavlovna, this is Dmitry. I am warning you once: if you call my wife again and pressure her, I will cut off all contact with you. This is not an empty threat.”
“Dmitry, have you lost your mind? Kristina is your blood!”
“Kristina is an adult capable of solving her own problems. That’s all, Aunt Galya. I’ve said what I needed to say.”
Victoria looked at her husband and felt both gratitude and bitterness. Gratitude because he protected her. Bitterness because she had become the reason for a split in his family.
“Dima, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the apartment back then.”
“No. You told the truth. The problem isn’t you. The problem is people who think someone else’s property belongs to them.”
“I don’t want you to fight with your relatives because of me.”
“Vika, listen carefully.” He took her hands. “They are fighting because of greed. Not because of you. Because of square meters that do not belong to them. You are not guilty of anything.”
She nodded, but disappointment had already taken root inside her. She had hoped so much for normal relations with his family. She had believed that patience and gentleness would work. They had not.
It happened in November, at half past eleven at night. Arina was already ten months old. Victoria had just put her daughter to bed and was about to lie down herself when the doorbell rang. Nina Pavlovna stood on the threshold with two suitcases and a supermarket bag.
“Mother?” Dmitry stepped into the hallway. “What happened?”
“I’ve moved,” Nina Pavlovna said in an even, rehearsed voice. “Kristina and her young man are in my apartment now. I gave her the keys.”
“You did what?”
“Don’t shout, you’ll wake the baby. I did what I should have done long ago. The girl needs to build her life. I’ll live with you.”
Victoria stood in the kitchen doorway, pressing a hand to her forehead. Anger was rising inside her — cold, clear, without hysteria.
“Nina Pavlovna, we have nowhere for a third adult to sleep. You know that.”
“I’ll put a folding bed in the kitchen. Or in the hallway. I don’t need much.”
“No,” Dmitry said. “No, Mother. You are not moving in with us.”
“And what am I supposed to do? Live on the street?”
“You are supposed to go back home. To your own apartment.”
“Kristina is there!”
“Then Kristina will leave.”
Nina Pavlovna sank onto a chair in the hallway and began to cry. Victoria saw Dmitry clench his teeth. He did not hesitate. He did not waver between his wife and his mother. He did not postpone the decision until morning. He acted.
“Mother, get dressed. We’re going to your place.”
“Dima, I can’t throw them out! Galya…”
“You can. It is your apartment. I’ll help.”
“Dima, for God’s sake, can’t we handle this humanely?”
“Humanely is when you are not pushed out of your own home in the middle of the night. What happened here is a circus, and I am shutting it down right now.”
He loaded the suitcases back into the car. Nina Pavlovna followed him, wiping her eyes. Victoria stayed home, leaning against the hallway wall, listening as the sound of the engine faded.
Dmitry returned two hours later. He sat down in the kitchen and told her everything.
“I brought Mother back and opened the door with my key. Kristina and some guy were sitting in the kitchen, eating pizza and drinking wine. They had already rearranged Mother’s bedroom — moved the wardrobe, hung up some kind of garland.”
“And then?”
“I said, ‘You have five minutes. Pack your things and leave.’”
“And they?”
“Kristina started screaming that Aunt Nina had allowed it, that it was an agreement, that I had no right. Her boyfriend stayed quiet — pale as a sheet, still eating pizza.”
“And you?”
“I called Seryoga. He played along. I put him on speaker, and Seryoga said in his deepest voice that a patrol was already on the way to the address after a report of illegal occupancy.”
“Dima…”
“Three minutes later, they were standing in the courtyard with their backpacks. As she left, Kristina said I would regret it.”
“And your mother?”
“Mother sat on the sofa, hugged a pillow, and said nothing. I changed the lock. I had a spare set in the trunk — I bought it a week ago just in case. I left Mother the new keys and took the old ones.”
Victoria was silent for a long time.
“You knew in advance this would happen?”
“No. But I knew they would try something. They had been preparing too long to simply give up.”
“Dima, I’m scared. Not for myself — for you. You just cut off half your family.”
“I cut off the people who tried to climb onto our backs. That’s not the same thing.”
In the morning, Aunt Galina called. Dmitry put her on speaker.
“You threw my daughter out onto the street! In the middle of the night! With her young man!”
“Galina Pavlovna, I returned my mother to her apartment. The apartment you practically took away from her.”
“Nobody took anything! Nina offered it herself!”
“Mother offered because you pressured her for six months. Enough, Aunt Galya. Kristina is your daughter. Provide for her yourself.”
“You will regret this, Dmitry.”
“Maybe. But not today.”
He ended the call and turned to Victoria.
“That’s it. From now on, it’s only us. You, me, and Arina. No ultimatums. No midnight visits.”
Victoria hugged him. The anger faded, leaving behind exhaustion and a strange, sharp calm.
Two years passed. Arina grew up and learned to say “Mama” and “no” — the second one much more often. Victoria became pregnant with Milana, and life began to flow in a new direction.
Dmitry’s contract ended, he moved to a normal salary, and at last they were able to breathe. The decision to sell both apartments — his and hers — came naturally. Victoria called Uncle Pyotr.
“Uncle Petya, I’m selling Grandfather’s apartment. Yegor will need to move out within two months.”
“Vika, I understand. Yegor was already planning to. He met a girl, and they want to live together. Everything worked out.”
“Thank you for always being honest with me.”
“Victoria, you’re the one who did well. Your grandfather would have been proud of you.”
They sold both apartments and bought a four-room apartment in a good neighborhood. When Milana was born, each daughter already had her own room. Dmitry painted the walls himself — Arina’s room lilac, Milana’s mint green.
The relatives learned about the purchase through Nina Pavlovna, who came to visit once a month — quietly, without scandals, bringing shy little gifts for her granddaughters. Their relationship with her remained cool, but Victoria no longer fought it. If she came, let her come. What mattered was that the rules had been set.
But one day the doorbell rang without warning. Kristina stood on the doorstep. Alone. No suitcases, no boyfriend. Her eyes were red, her lips trembling.
“Vika, may I come in?”
“Come in.”
Kristina sat in the kitchen and stayed silent for a long time. Then she began to speak — unevenly, brokenly, swallowing the ends of her words.
“Anton got married. He brought his wife to live with us. Mother gave him the big room. I was left with the storage room. Literally a storage room. Eight square meters, no window.”
“And what do you want from me?”
“Vika, I know I behaved terribly. I know. But right now I have nowhere to go. That guy — we broke up a month after that incident. I don’t have money to rent a place. Mother said I have to put up with it because my brother and his wife need the space more.”
Victoria looked at Kristina and felt no triumph. No pity either. Only clarity.
“Kristina, I will help you. But not the way you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“I won’t give you housing. I’ll give you a contact. Dmitry knows someone who rents out a room in a communal apartment. It’s inexpensive. You can afford it if you’re working.”
“A room? In a communal apartment?”
“Yes. That or nothing. I cannot offer a third option.”
“Vika, but you have four rooms now…”
“Kristina.” Victoria raised her hand, stopping the flood of words. “Two years ago, you were eating pizza in my mother-in-law’s apartment, after that apartment had been taken from her. You did not ask where an older woman would live. You didn’t care. I am not cruel. But I am not stupid.”
Kristina drew in a breath and nodded.
“All right. Give me the contact.”
Victoria dictated the number. Kristina left. At the door, she turned back.
“Vika, are you really not angry?”
“I stopped being angry a long time ago. It costs too much.”
Kristina left. A week later, she moved into that room. A month later, she found a second part-time job. Three months later, she called Victoria and said thank you — briefly, awkwardly, but sincerely.
Aunt Galina, however, received her lesson in another way. Anton, her beloved son, announced six months after his wedding that he and his wife were moving to another city. Before leaving, he rented out Aunt Galina’s apartment to strangers without her knowledge through an online service, and had the money transferred to his own account. Galina Pavlovna discovered strangers in her living room with a rental agreement on a phone screen, cooking borscht in her pot.
She called Dmitry for the first time in two years.
“Dima… Anton… He rented out my apartment. He has a share, so he has the right, but… I came home, and there were strangers cooking borscht in my pot.”
“Aunt Galya, you once moved Kristina into my mother’s apartment in exactly the same way. Remember?”
A long pause followed.
“That was different…”
“No, Aunt Galya. It was exactly the same. Only now it happened to you.”
She hung up. Dmitry looked at Victoria.
“Life is the best teacher. Harsh, but fair.”
Victoria smiled. Arina was tugging at her sleeve, demanding that she read a fairy tale. Milana was asleep in the next room. The house smelled of vanilla — Dmitry had baked cookies that morning, his new hobby. It was quiet, warm, and right.
“Mama, read!” Arina pushed the book toward her.
“I’m coming, sweetheart.”
Victoria took her daughter’s hand, and they went into the lilac room. Behind her remained other people’s grievances, other people’s greed, other people’s claims to things that had never belonged to them. Ahead of her were the evening, a fairy tale, and small warm hands resting on her knees.
