“Will you give me the apartment? You’re obligated to help your mother-in-law!” my husband’s mother kept pestering me.
Ksenia was standing at the stove, stirring borscht, when someone knocked on the door. A familiar knock. Measured. Persistent. Tamara Petrovna always knocked exactly like that.
“Is Vladik home?” her mother-in-law asked, walking into the hallway without even waiting to be invited.
“He’s still at work. He’ll be back in an hour.”
“Cooking something inedible again?” the woman said, heading straight for the kitchen. “Let’s see what my son has to eat.”
Tamara Petrovna lifted the lid from the pot. Her face twisted into its usual expression of displeasure.
“And what is this supposed to be? You call this borscht?” She picked up a spoon and tasted it. “Completely tasteless. Too much cabbage, and I can’t even see any meat.”
Ksenia pressed her lips together. Every visit from her mother-in-law became a test of endurance.
“There is meat. I just cut it into small pieces,” she said, trying to remain calm.
“What meat?” Tamara Petrovna put the spoon aside. “My son is used to proper food. And you feed him who knows what.”
The woman went into the living room. Ksenia watched her go, then returned to the stove. The borscht had turned out well. Vladimir always praised her cooking. But when his mother was around, he kept silent.
“Ksenia!” came a voice from the living room. “Come here!”
Reluctantly, Ksenia went to her mother-in-law. Tamara Petrovna was standing in the middle of the room, inspecting the furniture.
“When was the last time you dusted?” Tamara Petrovna ran a finger over the dresser. “Look at all this dirt!”
“I cleaned yesterday,” Ksenia said, walking over to check. There wasn’t any dust at all.
“Don’t lie to me!” her mother-in-law said, shaking her head. “It’s obvious you don’t take care of the house. And your dress is wrinkled. Couldn’t you iron it?”
Ksenia looked down at her dress. She had ironed it that morning.
“Tamara Petrovna, I always…”
“Don’t make excuses!” the woman interrupted, raising a hand. “You’d better look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is sticking out in every direction. Your makeup is smeared.”
Ksenia went to the mirror. Her hair was neat. So was her makeup.
At that moment, the front door opened. Vladimir had come home from work.
“Mom!” he said, hugging Tamara Petrovna. “How are you?”
“I’m just seeing how my son is living,” the woman replied with a smile. “I worry about you.”
Vladimir glanced at Ksenia. His eyes showed exhaustion. And indifference.
“Let’s have dinner,” he said, heading toward the kitchen.
At the table, Tamara Petrovna continued making remarks.
“Vladik, you’ve lost weight,” she said, stroking her son’s arm. “They must not be feeding you properly at home.”
“Mom, everything’s fine,” Vlad said, taking a sip of borscht.
“What do you mean, fine?” his mother protested. “Look at this borscht. How can anyone eat this?”
Ksenia lowered her eyes to her plate. She wanted to get up and leave. But this was her apartment too.
“The borscht is good,” Vladimir said quietly.
“You’re just feeling sorry for your wife,” Tamara Petrovna said, shaking her head. “I’m worried about your health.”
Not long afterward, Ksenia received a call from a notary’s office. Her grandmother, Anna Ivanovna, had passed away. According to the will, Ksenia inherited a two-bedroom apartment in the city center.
The news of the inheritance instantly changed Tamara Petrovna’s behavior. She appeared at the door carrying a box of pastries.
“Ksyushenka!” her mother-in-law exclaimed, beaming. “You look absolutely wonderful today! You’re glowing!”
Confused, Ksenia accepted the box.
“Thank you, Tamara Petrovna.”
“Oh, it’s nothing!” the woman said, walking into the kitchen. “You’re an heiress now! Tell me more about the apartment. What neighborhood is it in? How big is it?”
“In the center. Sixty square meters,” Ksenia said, placing the pastries on the table.
“Wonderful!” her mother-in-law said, clapping her hands. “Have you received the documents yet? Show me what they say!”
Ksenia hesitated. Tamara Petrovna’s sudden interest seemed strange.
“Not everything is finalized yet,” Ksenia replied cautiously. “The notary said the paperwork should be completed in a month.”
“Of course, of course!” the woman nodded eagerly. “The important thing is that everything is done legally.”
Over the next few weeks, Tamara Petrovna began showing up almost every day. Every visit turned into a theatrical performance.
“Ksyushenka, look at my test results,” her mother-in-law said, spreading medical papers across the kitchen table. “The doctor says everything is terrible.”
Ksenia looked at the documents. They were ordinary results for a seventy-year-old woman.
“Tamara Petrovna, there’s nothing serious here…”
“What do you mean, nothing?” the woman protested. “You’re not a doctor! My blood pressure is constantly going up and down.”
Tamara Petrovna pulled a huge pile of pills from her bag. She began counting them, sighing dramatically.
“I take ten of these a day,” she said, shaking her head. “And I can barely walk anyway.”
Ksenia silently watched the performance. Just a week earlier, her mother-in-law had been running up the stairs faster than people half her age.
“And my room in that communal apartment is so damp!” Tamara Petrovna coughed. “The walls are wet, the ceiling leaks. I’m afraid I won’t survive another winter in those conditions.”
“Maybe Vladimir could help with the repairs?” Ksenia suggested.
“Of course he will!” her mother-in-law brightened. “My son is wonderful. But repairs cost money.”
That same evening, Vladimir made an announcement.
“We need to help Mom with housing,” he said, sitting on the sofa and avoiding his wife’s eyes. “Things have gotten really bad there.”
“Vlad, we just bought her a new refrigerator,” Ksenia said, sitting beside him. “And last week we replaced her television.”
“Those are little things,” her husband said, waving a hand. “This is about my mother’s health.”
Ksenia looked at him. There was an unusual determination in his voice.
“So what are you suggesting?”
“We need to sit down together,” Vladimir said, getting up and pacing around the room. “Discuss everything.”
The next morning, Tamara Petrovna arrived early. She sat at the kitchen table and spread out her medical papers.
“Vladik, tell your wife about our conversation,” she said sternly, looking at her son.
Vladimir cleared his throat and sat across from Ksenia.
“Mom is right. She needs decent living conditions,” he said quietly but firmly.
So that was what all of this had been leading to.
“Vlad, this is too much,” Ksenia said, trying to stay calm.
“But we’re family!” Tamara Petrovna leaned forward. “I worked my whole life. I raised a son. I deserve a peaceful old age.”
“Tamara Petrovna, no one is arguing with that…”
“Then what’s the problem?” her mother-in-law interrupted. “Vladik, explain it to your wife!”
Vladimir remained silent, staring at the floor. Ksenia waited for her husband to say even one word in her defense. But he continued to say nothing.
“Mom has to move,” Vlad finally said. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Move in with us?” Ksenia asked, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Into our one-room apartment?”
“Not with you,” Tamara Petrovna said with a smile. “Into the new apartment.”
All Ksenia could manage was a quiet reply.
“I need to think about it.”
A week later, her mother-in-law arrived carrying a folder of documents. Her face shone with triumph.
“Ksyushenka, I found out everything!” she said, sitting down at the table and pulling a printout from the folder. “Here’s a sample gift agreement. It’s very easy to arrange.”
Ksenia took the paper. It was an ordinary template downloaded from the internet.
“You will give me the apartment, won’t you?” Tamara Petrovna said, waving the sheet. “You’re obligated to help your mother-in-law!”
The woman stood up and began pacing around the kitchen.
“I’ve already found a notary who can handle the transfer!” her mother-in-law said, her voice getting louder. “We can go tomorrow!”
Ksenia stared at the printout. Her hands were trembling.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not giving you the apartment.”
Tamara Petrovna froze. Her face twisted with anger.
“What do you mean, no?” she shouted. “You’re obligated to help me!”
“I don’t owe you anything,” Ksenia said, rising from the table. “This is my inheritance.”
“Vladik!” Tamara Petrovna turned toward her son. “Do you hear what your wife is saying?”
Vladimir raised his head. His eyes showed confusion and a kind of resignation.
“Ksyush, Mom is right,” he said uncertainly. “You need to respect your elders.”
“Your elders?” Ksenia stared at him in disbelief. “And who is supposed to respect me?”
Suddenly, Tamara Petrovna collapsed into a chair and began sobbing loudly.
“You see what you’ve driven me to!” she cried, smearing tears across her cheeks.
“Tamara Petrovna, stop with the theatrics,” Ksenia said wearily, shaking her head.
“What theatrics?” her mother-in-law jumped to her feet. “I’m suffocating in that communal apartment, and you’re hoarding your inheritance!”
Vladimir walked over to his mother and put his arms around her shoulders.
“Stop crying, Mom,” he said, rubbing her back. “Ksenia, you can see what condition my mother is in.”
“I can,” Ksenia replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s putting on quite a performance.”
“Putting on a performance?” Vladimir spun around toward his wife. “Have you completely lost your conscience?”
“You’re the one who’s lost his conscience!” Ksenia could no longer hold herself back. “We’ve been married for five years, and not once have you defended me!”
“Fine,” her husband said, straightening up and looking at her coldly. “Then choose. Either you sign the apartment over as a gift, or I file for divorce.”
Ksenia looked at her husband. The man she had loved had become a stranger.
“File,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to put up with this abuse anymore.”
Tamara Petrovna stopped crying. She looked at her daughter-in-law with open hatred.
“You’ll regret this!” she hissed. “You’ll end up without a family!”
“So be it,” Ksenia said, heading to the bedroom to pack. “At least I’ll still have my apartment.”
An hour later, Ksenia left the home with two bags. Vladimir did not even come outside to see her off.
The first thing Ksenia did in her new apartment was change the locks. Vladimir called every day.
“Come back home,” he demanded over the phone. “Stop being so stubborn!”
“This is my home now,” Ksenia replied calmly. “And you’ll be receiving the divorce papers soon.”
“Are you seriously going through with the divorce?” Vladimir’s voice trembled with anger.
“Absolutely,” Ksenia said, hanging up.
The legal battle lasted four months. Vladimir tried to prove that he had invested more money into their one-room apartment. Ksenia provided all her income records and receipts for the renovations.
The court divided their marital property equally. Ksenia received half the value of the one-room apartment in cash.
With that money, she completely renovated her inherited apartment. She removed the wall between the kitchen and living room, installed new plumbing, and bought beautiful furniture.
Tamara Petrovna came to the building several times. She stood outside the entrance and tried to get inside. Ksenia saw her through the window but never opened the door.
Six months later, Ksenia held a housewarming party. Her colleagues and old university friends came over.
“It’s beautiful!” Lena, her former neighbor, exclaimed. “And you look so happy now!”
Ksenia smiled as she poured tea into the cups. Outside the window, the first snow was falling. The apartment was warm and cozy.
For the first time in many years, Ksenia was truly enjoying her life.
