“Try to understand, Mashenka, this is only temporary, just until you get back on your feet,” Nina Pavlovna said, carefully placing porcelain figurines into a box, wrapping each one in newspaper with painful precision. “We’ll rent out the apartment, the money will be good, we’ll pay for a semester right away, and then, who knows, maybe you’ll get back onto the state-funded program if you start taking things seriously.”
Masha sat on the edge of the sofa, swinging one foot in a sock with a hole in it, watching her mother’s packing with skepticism. She had disliked this idea from the very beginning, but there was not much of a choice: being expelled from the tuition-free department because of absences had become a fact of her biography, one that could no longer be erased.
“Mom, does Anton even know about your brilliant plans?” her daughter asked, scratching her ankle. “Do you think he and Katya are sitting there waiting for us with open arms? Their honeymoon has barely ended, you could say, they have a new house, and then here we come: ‘Hello, please make up a bed for us in the living room.’”
“Anton is my son, and he will understand everything properly,” Nina Pavlovna snapped, smoothing the folds of an old blanket that they were also planning to take with them. “He knows how hard things are for us right now. Your father, may he rest in peace, left us nothing but debts and this two-room apartment that has needed repairs for ten years already. And they have a huge house, two floors. What do the two of them need so much space for? Just to scare themselves with the echo?”
“And Katya?” Masha persisted. “She has never exactly smiled at me. She always looks at me as if I stole money from her.”
Nina Pavlovna froze with a vase in her hands. For a moment, her face took on the expression people have when looking at foolish little kittens.
“Masha, what nonsense are you saying? Katya is a wife. Her job is to support her husband. Anton will say it, and she will agree. Who is she to argue? She entered their family, not Anton hers. And besides, I’ve thought everything through. I’ll plant such a flower bed on the first floor that everyone will admire it. They need help around the house anyway, the plot is big. I’ll be useful, and you can sit in your room and study. No one will even notice we’re living there.”
“Sure, we’ll be as unnoticeable as elephants in a china shop,” Masha snorted, but she got up to help her mother seal another box with tape. “Fine, you win. But if Anton throws us out, I’ll remind you of this.”
“He won’t throw us out,” her mother smiled confidently, patting her daughter on the shoulder. “He has a kind heart. And we have nowhere else to go. The tenants are moving in tomorrow, and I already spent the deposit on your new boots and courses. That’s it, there’s no turning back. Pack.”
The house stood on a small rise, surrounded by young pine trees, and looked as if it had stepped down from the pages of a magazine about modern architecture. The building, made of dark brick and light wood, had an unusual shape, resembling an open book.
Katya had always known what she wanted. Her profession as a mycologist had taught her to see hidden connections in nature, to notice what was invisible to the ordinary eye, and to value structure. She cultivated rare fungal cultures for pharmaceuticals, and this house had been bought partly thanks to her patents for special enzymes.
Anton, who designed covers for high-tech prosthetics, valued ergonomics and light in their new home. He rushed around the kitchen, helping his wife lay out appetizers. In his hands, even slicing bread turned into a precise engineering process.
“You didn’t forget the cream?” Katya asked, fixing a stray lock of dark hair. She disliked fuss, but today was a special day.
“I didn’t forget. And I got that bread with seeds, the one you like,” Anton said, kissing his wife on the temple. “The guests are already arriving. Are you nervous?”
“A little. Did your mother call?”
“No, strangely enough. Usually she calls three times before leaving just to ask about the weather,” Anton chuckled. “She’s probably preparing a surprise.”
The guests filled the first floor almost instantly. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, the scent of expensive perfume, and baked meat with herbs blended into one festive cocktail. Friends admired the layout, the high ceilings, and the strange yet captivating atmosphere created by the hosts.
Nina Pavlovna and Masha arrived an hour late. They entered not like guests, but like inspectors. Anton’s mother, wearing her best dress with large flowers, immediately headed for the center of the living room. Masha trudged behind her, dragging a huge bag stuffed with something soft.
“Well, hello, new homeowners!” the mother-in-law’s voice drowned out the music. “A royal mansion, nothing less!”
Anton hurried to his mother to take her bags, but she waved him away. Her eyes were already scanning the room, noting empty corners, lighting, and furniture placement.
“Mom, come in, we’ve been waiting for you,” Anton smiled, not noticing the tension his mother had brought with her.
“Waiting, I can see that,” Nina Pavlovna nodded. “Katya, why are the curtains so thick? There’s no sunlight at all. All right, we’ll fix that.”
She walked over to the large table, unceremoniously pushed the chairs aside, and sat at the head, although that seat was clearly meant for the master of the house. The guests fell slightly quiet, sensing the dissonance. Katya, holding a bowl of salad, froze for a second, but professional restraint took over. She silently placed the dish on the table.
The evening rolled along by inertia. Toast after toast was made, wishing them children, wealth, and long years together. Nina Pavlovna drank little but ate with appetite, glancing at the staircase leading to the second floor.
Her moment came when the hot dish was served. She tapped her fork against her glass, demanding silence.
“My dear ones,” she began solemnly, standing up. “I am so happy for my son. What a house he has built! But here is what I thought. Masha and I talked it over and decided to give you a gift. We are moving in with you!”
Silence did not fall over the room — it crashed down on everyone like a concrete slab. Someone choked on wine. Katya slowly lowered her fork onto her plate.
“In a week,” Nina Pavlovna continued cheerfully, not noticing the paralysis around her. “I’ve already rented out the apartment and taken the deposit. Mashenka needs to study, and there’s nothing to pay with, while you have enough space here for a company of soldiers. I’ve already figured it out: Masha will take that room with the south-facing window; she needs light for studying. And I’ll settle downstairs, where you were planning to have the library. The books can be moved into the hallway.”
Anton stood as if he had been hit over the head with a dusty sack. The smile slid from his face, replaced by a mask of bewilderment.
“Mom, wait… What do you mean, you rented out the apartment? What do you mean, you’re moving in?” his voice sounded dull.
“That’s exactly what I mean, Antosha. We need to save money. And the air is fresh here, we can start a vegetable garden. I’ve even picked out seedlings already. We won’t bother you. I’ll cook, I’ll clean. Katya works all day with her toadstools, she has no time to keep a home cozy. And I’m your mother. I’ll help.”
Katya stood up. She did not look at her mother-in-law. Her gaze was directed somewhere through the wall.
“I’m going outside for some air,” she said quietly and headed toward the terrace door. “Handle this yourself.”
Nina Pavlovna followed her with a triumphant look. “She ran away,” she thought. “She accepted it.”
But Anton did not sit down. The softness in his eyes disappeared, giving way to the cold, sober calculation of an engineer who had discovered a critical flaw in a structure.
“You rented out your apartment without asking me?” he repeated louder.
“Why should I ask you?” Nina Pavlovna said in surprise. “You’re my son. The house is yours. That means it is mine too. We are the same blood. Or are you going to throw your own mother out onto the street?”
Masha, sitting nearby, pulled her head into her shoulders. She felt uncomfortable. She had already seen that look in her brother’s eyes — when he had defended his thesis and the committee had tried to fail him.
“Mom, let’s go outside,” Anton said. He was not asking. He was ordering.
He took his mother by the elbow, firmly, without his usual respectfulness, and led her into the hallway. Masha, sensing trouble, trailed after them. The guests exchanged glances, trying to pretend they were absorbed in their salad.
In the hallway, Anton let go of his mother’s arm.
“You made a mistake,” he said, striking out each word. “A huge mistake. Why did you decide you could manage my house and my life?”
“Your house!” Nina Pavlovna threw up her hands. “Exactly! You earned it, you bought it! I raised you, I didn’t sleep nights, and now there’s no place for me? Has greed eaten you up, son? Did your wife turn you against me?”
“What does Katya have to do with this?” Anton began losing patience. His voice grew louder, more resonant. “You solved your financial problems at my expense without even informing me! You came into my house and started imposing your own rules, insulting my wife in front of guests!”
“I told the truth!” Nina Pavlovna shrieked. “She works with mushrooms, but a house needs a woman’s hand! And Masha needs to study! You are obligated to help your sister!”
“I helped when I paid for tutors she never went to!” Anton roared. “I helped when I gave you money for repairs that never even began! Enough!”
Masha tried to say something, but Anton stopped her with a gesture. He was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring. At that moment, the terrace door opened, and Katya entered the hallway. Calm and cold, like an autumn forest.
She stood beside her husband. Not behind his back, but shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Nina Pavlovna,” she said evenly. “It seems you have not quite understood the situation.”
“What is there to understand about you?” the mother-in-law waved her hand, feeling the ground slipping from under her feet and going on the offensive. “You’ve settled in here, found yourself a mistress of the house. You wrapped Anton around your finger and think you can do anything? Anton built this house!”
“Not exactly,” Anton interrupted his mother. “Katya and I built this house together. But there is one detail you forgot to ask about in your fantasies. How much money did I contribute to the construction?”
Nina Pavlovna hesitated.
“Well… a lot. You earn good money.”
“I invested my savings,” Anton nodded. “But that would only have been enough for the foundation and the walls of the first floor. Mom, half the cost of this house was paid by Katya’s parents. The Teplovs. Nikolai Petrovich and Elena Sergeyevna.”
Nina Pavlovna’s face stretched. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving ugly white patches.
“What… parents?” she whispered.
“Exactly. Legally, the house is registered in Katya’s name. And the half you already mentally moved yourself and Masha into,” Anton pointed toward the right wing of the building, “is meant for them. The house has two entrances, Mom. It’s a duplex. In a month, Nikolai Petrovich is retiring, and they are moving here. The furniture in the library you wanted to throw out was bought by my father-in-law. It is his office.”
Nina Pavlovna gasped for air. Her cozy plan to seize territory crumbled to dust. She looked at Katya, expecting to see gloating, but saw only indifference.
“But… how can that be?” she muttered, frantically looking for a way out. “They have an apartment! Why do they need to come here? And we… we need it more! Masha will be left without an education! We already rented out the apartment! The people are moving in tomorrow!”
She rushed toward Katya, grabbing her hands.
“Katya dear! You’re a woman, you’ll understand me! Where are we supposed to go now? Give us just one little room! We’ll be quiet! I’ll make arrangements with your parents, I’m not a stranger!”
Katya carefully but firmly freed her hands. Her fingers were hard.
“No,” she said.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Nina Pavlovna did not understand.
“No, you will not live here. Not in any room, not in the storage closet, not in the attic. This is not up for discussion. My parents are selling their apartment so they can live here, near us, and help with future grandchildren — not endure communal squabbles with you. You called my work nonsense, and you tried to turn me into a servant in my own home. You respect neither me nor Anton.”
“Anton!” his mother howled, turning to her son. “Tell her! Are you a man or not?”
Anton stepped forward, looming over his mother. He was no longer the compliant boy who feared her shouting.
“I am a man,” he said quietly and terribly. “And that is exactly why I will not allow anyone to wipe their feet on my family. My family is Katya. And you, Mom, are a guest who forgot the rules of decency. You lied, you manipulated, you decided everything for us. Now solve your problems yourself.”
Masha, standing by the wall, suddenly burst out laughing. It was nervous, angry laughter.
“I told you, Mom! I told you they’d send us away! But you kept saying, ‘I’ll plant flower beds, I’ll be useful!’ What a disgrace!”
“Shut up!” her mother shouted at her, and for the first time her voice carried not anger, but fear. Real, animal fear of the street.
“Get out,” Katya said. She walked to the front door and opened it wide. The evening air rushed into the house, blowing away the stuffy scent of her mother-in-law’s perfume.
“You can’t…” Nina Pavlovna whispered. “We… we spent the deposit. We have no money to return to the tenants. They’ll kill us. The man there is so… serious.”
“Anton?” the mother-in-law made one last attempt, looking at her son with the eyes of a beaten dog. “Give me money. At least enough to pay off the tenants.”
Anton took out his wallet. Nina Pavlovna leaned forward, hope flashing in her eyes — greedy and sticky.
“No,” Anton said, putting the wallet back. “If I give you money now, you will never understand. You will come again. In a month, in a year. You will think everyone owes you. Deal with it yourself. Sell your fur coat. Sell your flowers. Go get a job. I don’t care.”
He took Masha’s bag and put it out onto the porch.
“Leave.”
Nina Pavlovna stood there for another second, unable to believe what was happening. Her world, where she was the center of the universe, where sons owed everything and daughters-in-law had no rights, had collapsed. She looked at Katya with such hatred that it seemed the wallpaper should have turned black.
“You…” she hissed. “You snake. You turned him against me! You poisoned him with your mushrooms! May you be cursed with your house!”
Katya did not even blink.
“All the best to you too, Nina Pavlovna. Don’t trip on the steps.”
The mother-in-law rushed outside, dragging Masha after her, while Masha muttered something about idiotic plans and now having nowhere to sleep. The door slammed shut.
Anton leaned his forehead against the doorframe. His shoulders dropped.
“I’m sorry,” he said without turning around. “I ruined the housewarming.”
Katya came up behind him and hugged him, pressing her cheek to his back.
“You didn’t ruin anything. You protected our home. That was the best housewarming there could have been.”
They returned to the guests. No one asked anything, though everyone had heard everything. The celebration continued, but it became different — more sincere, warmer. As if the air in the house had been cleansed after a storm.
Nina Pavlovna climbed to her floor, feverishly thinking about how she would lie to the tenants. Maybe she could say a pipe had burst? Or that the roof had collapsed? Anything to make them leave, to turn everything back.
The key would not turn in the lock.
Nina Pavlovna pulled the handle. Locked. She rang the bell.
The door was opened not by the “serious man” she had made the agreement with. Standing on the threshold was a hulking man in sweatpants, chewing an apple. Behind him, unfamiliar boxes were piled in the hallway, and her beloved chest of drawers had already been pushed out into the entryway.
“What do you want?” the hulking man asked, taking a loud bite of the fruit.
“I… I’m the owner!” Nina Pavlovna shrieked. “Open up immediately! I changed my mind! I’ll return your money… later! Move out!”
The man spat a seed onto the floor.
“Grandma, have you lost your mind? Was the contract signed? It was. Was the money paid? It was. Did you hand over the keys? You did. My brother and his family are already settled in the bedroom. Get lost before I call the police for disorderly conduct.”
“But this is my apartment!” Nina Pavlovna tried to stick her foot into the doorway.
With one easy movement of his hand, the man pushed her back onto the stair landing.
“It used to be yours. For the next year, it’s ours. The contract says early termination carries a penalty of triple the amount. Bring three hundred thousand right now, and we’ll move out. No? Then take a walk.”
The door slammed shut with a heavy metallic clang.
Masha sat on the steps one floor below, laughing hysterically.
“Well, Mom? Where are we going to plant flower beds now? At the train station?”
Nina Pavlovna sat on the concrete floor of her own building entrance, clutching a useless bag of porcelain figurines in her hands. Inside one of the boxes, something crunched — it seemed the head of her favorite shepherdess had broken off.
She did not repent. She did not think about having acted vilely. Only one thought spun in her head: how to take revenge on Katya, because of whom she, an honored mother and long-suffering martyr, had ended up on the street. But somewhere deep in her soul, in that dark corner where she was afraid to look, a cold horror rose with the understanding that no one would come to help anymore.
Her son had grown up. And the door she had tried to kick open today had closed forever.
THE END
