“All right, that’s enough. We’ll talk later,” Denis said, already carrying the first large bag into the hallway. “We’re exhausted after the journey. Just give us part of the money from the sale without making trouble. Half of it. She’s your mother, after all.”
“Yes,” her mother immediately agreed. “Half. You don’t seriously think you’re going to keep everything for yourself, do you? Don’t you have a conscience?”
Alina stared at them—their shameless faces, the bags, the outstretched hand—and felt a familiar cold anger rising inside her. The same anger that had once sent Rodion tumbling down a staircase.
“Here’s how it’s going to be,” she said quietly. “Denis is leaving my hallway. On his own.”
“What?!” He straightened up. “And who the hell are you to—”
He never finished the sentence. Alina stepped forward, turned him toward the door by the shoulder, and gave him a short, forceful kick in the backside.
Alina climbed the stairs slowly, pressing the sheet of paper folded into quarters against her chest.
Four mediocre grades.
Medical school, which she had dreamed of attending since the eighth grade, had suddenly drifted beyond the horizon. It now seemed distant and almost ridiculous.
She rehearsed the phrases she would use to soften the blow.
“I’ll retake the exams.”
“This isn’t the end.”
“Please, just don’t be upset.”
Laughter rang out behind the apartment door. It sounded unusual—bright, youthful, carefree. Her mother had not laughed like that in years.
Alina froze with the key in her hand. For a moment, she wanted to remain there and absorb the sound, allowing herself to believe that someone inside would be happy to see her.
“Finally,” Veronika said when her daughter entered. “We were beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”
“I didn’t get lost,” Alina replied, carefully taking off her shoes. “I was at the admissions office.”
Denis was sitting at the kitchen table. Young and polished, with his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, he spun his phone between his fingers and stared at the girl.
“Oh, look, the heiress has arrived,” he drawled. “So, are they going to let you become a doctor?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Alina answered quietly.
“Did you hear that, Veronika? She hasn’t decided yet,” Denis chuckled. “Her Majesty.”
“Deniska, don’t start,” her mother said, waving him off. But she smiled warmly at him without even looking at her daughter. “Alina, sit down and eat. We were just…”
“Mom, I need to tell you something,” Alina said, perching on the edge of a chair. “It’s about my exams.”
“You can tell me later,” her mother dismissed her. “Denis and I have plans for this evening.”
Alina swallowed hard and unfolded the sheet anyway.
“These are the results. They aren’t very good. But I’ll retake them, I promise. I’ve already found out when I can do it.”
Her mother glanced at the grades, and her face froze for a moment.
“Four mediocre grades,” she said evenly. “Well done. I sacrificed my whole life for you, and you brought home four mediocre grades.”
“I tried…”
“She tried,” Denis snorted. “Everyone tries. What good did it do?”
Alina wanted to argue, but she swallowed the words.
She remembered something she had accidentally overheard the previous day. Her mother had been speaking to a friend on the phone and had used the phrase “a mistake of my youth.”
At the time, Alina had convinced herself that her mother had been talking about something else—an old divorce or some long-forgotten decision.
“Mom,” she said cautiously, “yesterday, when you were on the phone, you mentioned some kind of mistake. You weren’t talking about me, were you?”
Her mother looked away.
“Don’t make things up,” she snapped. “Go to your room. We’re expecting guests.”
That night, Alina woke to the sound of voices behind the wall. The thin door allowed every word to pass through, and she lay motionless, afraid even to make the bed creak.
“I’m tired, Denis,” her mother was saying. “Do you understand? I’m exhausted. Diapers, kindergarten, school, all those ridiculous extracurricular activities. I haven’t lived a single day for myself.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been telling you,” Denis replied lazily. “You’re still young. Your whole life is ahead of you. But you’ve got this constant reminder rustling around under your feet.”
“She’s still my daughter…”
“Your daughter, your daughter,” he mocked. “She’s a grown woman now. Let her go and live however she wants. You’ve done your time. Now you can make up for everything you missed. You’ll make up for it with me.”
Alina pressed her hand over her mouth.
She listened as they called her a reminder, a burden and a mistake. Something hard, angry and unfamiliar began to rise inside her.
“But where would she go?” her mother asked uncertainly.
“Anywhere,” Denis yawned. “There are dormitories and hostels. Or there’s that house of her grandmother’s in the middle of nowhere. It’s falling apart, of course, but at least it has a roof.”
“Tarkhovka…” her mother murmured. “It’s far away.”
“That’s a good thing,” he said with a smirk. “The farther away she is, the more peaceful it’ll be.”
The next morning, Alina entered the kitchen without saying a word. Her mother was drinking coffee, while Denis scrolled through his phone. They both looked as though the nighttime conversation had never happened.
“Here’s what we’ve decided,” her mother said. “You’re twenty years old. You’re an adult. I’m giving you one month to pack your things. After that, you can either move into a hostel or go to the house in Tarkhovka. Denis and I want to live for ourselves.”
“Live for yourselves,” Alina repeated hollowly.
“What’s wrong with that?” her mother demanded. “I sacrificed my entire life for you! Don’t I have the right to be happy?”
“You do,” the girl replied. “Your happiness is sitting right there with his shirt hanging open.”
“How dare you speak to me like that?” her mother shouted, jumping to her feet. “You ungrateful brat! We gave you a roof over your head, fed you and clothed you, and now you’re talking back to me!”
“Hey, show your mother some respect,” Denis interrupted. “Otherwise, that month might turn into a week.”
Alina looked at the two of them and understood that begging would be pointless.
“All right,” she said quietly. “One month. I understand.”
The Cozy Hostel greeted her with a narrow corridor and an owner whose stare made her want to fasten every button on her clothes.
Rodion—that was how he introduced himself—held the keys on his thumb and spun them around as if deciding whether she deserved them.
“There’s a little room available,” he said, drawing out every word. “It’s small, but for a pretty girl like you, we can arrange special conditions.”
“I just need a bed,” Alina replied coldly.
“A bed,” he repeated with a smirk. “Of course.”
During her first week, she remained constantly on guard.
In the evenings, a cheerful, sharp-tongued woman named Zhanna would smile at her in the communal kitchen.
“You should keep an eye on Rodion,” Zhanna whispered one day. “He tries to get close to a lot of the women here. He’s a slippery character.”
“I noticed,” Alina said with a nod.
“If anything happens, scream,” Zhanna said, winking. “I’m loud enough to bring the entire neighborhood running.”
The confrontation came on Friday.
Rodion entered Alina’s room under the pretext of checking the radiator. He shut the door behind him and moved closer.
“Why are you being so difficult?” he rasped, trapping her in the corner. “I’m trying to do this nicely.”
“Step away from me,” Alina said.
“Or what?” he sneered, placing his hand on her thigh.
At that moment, all the anger that had accumulated inside her since the night she had listened behind the wall finally found its way out.
Alina drove her knee upward—quickly and precisely.
Rodion doubled over with a squeal, stumbled backward toward the doorway and lost his balance. He tumbled down the stairs, striking each step with his face and elbows.
“You!” he wheezed from below, smearing blood across his chin. “You’re going to regret—”
Zhanna immediately appeared in the hallway.
“What’s happening here?” she asked cheerfully. “Rodion, why are you doing somersaults down the stairs?”
“She pushed me!” he whined.
“Really?” Zhanna narrowed her eyes. “Because I saw you enter her room and close the door. And if you say one more word, my friend, I’ll tell everyone exactly how many girls’ rooms you’ve visited to ‘check their radiators.’ Shall we begin?”
Rodion fell silent.
He leaned against the wall, wiping his injured face. One hand gripped the railing, while the other clutched the part of his body that had suffered the most.
Alina grabbed her bag and ran out into the night. He did not dare stop her.
The street was empty and echoing. Alina walked quickly without looking back.
Suddenly, a car slowed down beside her.
“Alinka?” called a familiar voice. “What are you doing out here alone at this hour?”
It was Gleb, a former classmate whom she had not seen in almost two years.
“It’s a long story,” she exhaled.
“I happen to have a long evening ahead of me,” he said with a smile. “Get in. As one wise person once said, those who walk will eventually reach their destination, but those sitting in a car will reach it faster.”
Alina could not help smiling as she got into the car.
Gleb took her to his mother’s home.
Tamara did not ask a single unnecessary question. She simply sat Alina down at the table, placed a plate in front of her and gave her a second helping before Alina had a chance to refuse.
“Eat,” she said. “We’ll talk afterward. A well-fed person thinks more clearly than a hungry one.”
“Thank you,” Alina said softly.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Tamara replied with a dismissive wave. “Gleb talked my ears off about you when you were still at school.”
“Mom!” Gleb said, blushing.
“What do you mean, ‘Mom’?” she snorted. “It’s true.”
The next morning, over tea, Alina told them everything—about her mother, Denis, the ultimatum and the house in Tarkhovka.
“Listen, why don’t we go and look at this ruin of yours?” Gleb suggested. “There’s no point in guessing. Maybe there really are only a few walls left.”
“Maybe there aren’t even any walls,” Alina replied with a bitter smile.
“Then at least there’ll be plenty of fresh air,” he said, winking. “Get ready.”
The journey took half a day.
When they finally arrived, Alina froze.
It was not a ruin at all.
A sturdy log house still stood on a hill, while below it stretched a clean, wide lake with a sandy shore.
“That’s quite an impressive ‘middle of nowhere,’” Gleb whistled. “It’s beautiful here.”
“I thought there would be nothing but frogs,” Alina said in confusion.
A man wearing a neat jacket approached them. He introduced himself as Igor and explained that he worked for the regional tourism committee.
“Is this your house?” he asked with interest. “We’ve been examining this shoreline. A health resort recently opened nearby, and the spring water has medicinal properties. The land here is worth a fortune.”
“It’s mine,” Alina said, still unable to believe it. “I inherited it from my grandmother.”
“Would you consider selling it?” Igor asked, taking out a business card. “We could offer you a good price. A very good price.”
Gleb tactfully stepped aside, but not before whispering to Alina:
“Don’t accept the first figure they offer. The first offer is always just a test.”
The transaction turned out to be surprisingly fair.
The money Alina received for the house and land was enough to buy her own two-room apartment in the city. It was not luxurious, but it belonged to her. It had a strong front door and a view of a quiet courtyard.
“Well, look at that,” Gleb said as they carried the first box into her new apartment. “The ‘mistake of someone’s youth’ has turned into a capable homeowner.”
“Don’t call me that,” Alina said, frowning.
“I won’t,” he replied seriously. “You’re simply Alina, and you’ve done an amazing job. Is that better?”
She laughed—freely and easily, the way she had not laughed in a very long time.
Several months passed.
Alina found a job she enjoyed, settled into a peaceful routine and had enough time to prepare to retake her exams.
Then, one evening, someone rang the doorbell.
Her mother was standing on the other side of the door. Behind her stood Denis, carrying two enormous bags. He looked rumpled, angry and stripped of his former polish.
“Sweetheart,” her mother said with a broad smile. “I’m so glad I found you. Aunt Lyuda gave me your address.”
“Hello,” Alina replied without moving away from the doorway.
“Aren’t you going to let us in?” her mother asked, already pushing one foot over the threshold. “You see, we’re in a difficult situation.”
“What kind of situation?” Alina asked evenly.
“We sold the apartment,” her mother began rapidly. “Denis’s business… well, it didn’t work out. We invested everything, but it all went under. We have nowhere to live.”
“Listen, just give us the keys to that house in Tarkhovka,” Denis interrupted, pushing forward with one of the bags. “It’s standing empty anyway, and we need a roof over our heads.”
“The house in Tarkhovka no longer exists,” Alina said. “I sold it.”
“You sold it?!” her mother shrieked. “How could you sell it? It belonged to the family! It was your grandmother’s!”
“Grandmother left it to me,” Alina reminded her. “You were the one who sent me there. Have you forgotten?”
“All right, that’s enough. We’ll talk later,” Denis said, already carrying the first bag into the hallway. “We’re exhausted after the journey. Just give us part of the money from the sale without making trouble. Half of it. She’s your mother, after all.”
“Yes,” her mother immediately agreed. “Half. You don’t seriously think you’re going to keep everything for yourself, do you? Don’t you have a conscience?”
Alina stared at them—their shameless faces, the bags, the outstretched hand—and felt the familiar cold anger rising inside her. The same anger that had once sent Rodion tumbling down a staircase.
“Here’s how it’s going to be,” she said quietly. “Denis is leaving my hallway. On his own.”
“What?!” He straightened up. “And who the hell are you to—”
He never finished the sentence.
Alina stepped forward, turned him toward the door by the shoulder and gave him a short, forceful kick in the backside.
He flew out onto the landing and crashed down onto his hands and knees with a howl.
“You… you kicked me!” Denis yelled, clutching his bruised backside.
“I escorted you out,” Alina corrected him.
“How dare you!” her mother cried, rushing forward. “He’s… he’s a human being!”
“He’s your bed warmer,” Alina replied.
She grabbed the remaining bag and threw it out after Denis. The seams split with a loud rip, and his clothes scattered down the stairs.
“My things!” he screamed, crawling around the landing.
“Take them and never come back,” Alina said.
Her mother froze in the doorway.
“You… you’re my daughter,” she stammered. “I raised you…”
“Stop!” Alina cut her off. “You threw me out. You called me a reminder and a mistake. You chose him. So live with him. Live freely. Isn’t that what you wanted? Freedom!”
“Where are we supposed to go?” her mother whined. “We have nothing!”
“You have each other,” Alina said. “And your precious freedom. Get married and enjoy your lives. But remember this: if either of you crosses this threshold again, you won’t get away with a kick. I’ll scratch your face to pieces, and believe me, I won’t feel sorry about it.”
Her mother backed away in fear, apparently imagining exactly whose face would end up beneath Alina’s fingernails.
She hurried over to Denis, who was still gathering his scattered clothes.
“I always carry out my threats,” Alina added calmly. “I don’t recommend testing me.”
Then she closed the door.
The lock clicked.
An argument erupted almost immediately on the other side.
“This is all your fault!” her mother shrieked. “Your ridiculous business! Your stupid schemes!”
“And who threw her own daughter out?” Denis snapped. “Was that me? You were the one who sent her away to her grandmother’s house!”
“Because you talked me into it!”
“Pick up your junk and be quiet,” he roared. “Stop whining.”
Alina listened to their voices, muffled by the door.
The house her mother had contemptuously called a ruin had become Alina’s foundation. Meanwhile, the “freedom” her mother had been so proud of had turned into emptiness and a permanently complaining companion at her side.
Alina returned to the room where her textbooks lay on the table.
Her exam retake, her job and her plans were all ahead of her—everything that was truly hers, earned honestly through her own effort.
Her phone chimed.
“My mother has cooked a mountain of food. She says winners need to be fed,” Gleb had written.
Alina smiled and typed a brief response:
“Come over. The winner is hungry.”
Outside the door, two grown adults continued stamping around and arguing for a long time.
After all their calculations and schemes, they had nothing left except their bags, a staircase landing and each other—though neither of them wanted the other anymore.
Alina, however, still had everything ahead of her.
