Ekaterina Pavlovna put the kettle on and sat down at the table. Her hands were trembling. Today marked forty days since Mikhail had passed away. His children were coming. And she did not even know what to call them now—her stepdaughter and stepson? She had spent only five years with Misha, but for her, they had been the happiest years of her life.
The doorbell rang at exactly two o’clock. Ekaterina flinched, straightened her cardigan, and went to open the door.
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“Hello, Katya,” Yulia said, standing on the doorstep with a stony expression. Alexey hovered behind her.
“Yulia, Lyosha, come in.”
They entered without taking off their shoes and went straight to the kitchen. Ekaterina winced—Misha had always insisted that everyone wear slippers in the house. But she said nothing. Not today.
“Would you like some tea?”
“No,” Yulia snapped. She sat down at the table and opened her handbag. “We don’t have much time. We need to discuss some matters.”
Alexey silently sat down beside his sister and nodded.
“What matters?” Ekaterina froze with a cup in her hands.
“The apartment,” Yulia said, pulling out a notebook. “Dad was a generous man, of course, but we need to decide what happens next.”
“What is there to decide?” Ekaterina’s voice became quieter.
“Katya, you understand,” Alexey spoke for the first time. “This apartment belonged to Dad. He spent his whole life building it up, renovating it. This is where we grew up.”
“And?”
“And we want to know what your plans are,” Yulia said, tapping her pen against the table. “When are you planning to move out?”
Ekaterina almost dropped the cup.
“Move out? Where?”
“Well, you had your own apartment before you married Dad, didn’t you?” Yulia spoke as though she were explaining something obvious to a child.
“I sold it. Misha and I put the money into renovating this place.”
“That’s unfortunate. But you have to understand, this was Dad’s apartment. We’re his children. And according to the law…”
“What law?” Ekaterina felt the blood rush to her face. “I’m his wife!”
“You were his wife,” Yulia corrected her. “For five years. Lyosha and I are his children. For thirty and thirty-three years, respectively.”
Ekaterina looked at Alexey. He was studying his fingernails.
“Misha would never…”
“Dad was too kind,” Yulia interrupted. “And he didn’t always think about the consequences. Fine, we’ll give you some time. A month or two to sort out your things. Then we’ll decide what to do with the apartment. Lyosha and I will most likely sell it.”
“Have you lost your minds?” Ekaterina stood up. “This is my home! Misha and I…”
“You and Dad no longer exist,” Yulia cut her off. “There’s you, and there’s us. And we have a right to our inheritance.”
Ekaterina stood there clutching the back of the chair. What was happening? Had they decided to throw her out onto the street? Right after the funeral?
“The notary is coming on Sunday,” Yulia said, getting to her feet. “We’ll discuss the details officially. And one more thing, Katya… Don’t pretend you didn’t understand where this was going. Dad died. You’re still young. You’ll find yourself another husband.”
“Yulia!” Ekaterina could not believe her ears.
“What? That’s life. Lyosha, let’s go.”
Alexey stood up, avoiding Ekaterina’s eyes.
“Bye, Katya. See you Sunday.”
When the door closed behind them, Ekaterina collapsed into a chair. What had that been? A nightmare? She looked around the kitchen. She and Misha had put up that wallpaper together. They had laughed when she got glue on the tip of her nose. And now… now they were simply throwing her out? And where was she supposed to go?
She walked to the window. Down in the courtyard, Yulia was saying something heatedly to her brother, waving her hands. He nodded. They were making plans. Plans for her apartment. Her home.
The phone rang so suddenly that Ekaterina jumped.
“Katyusha, it’s Valya from downstairs. How are you doing? Have they left?”
“They left.”
“And?”
“They want to take the apartment, Valya.”
“Those snakes! I knew it! Hang on, I’m coming up!”
Valentina had been sitting in the kitchen for almost two hours. Ekaterina had told her everything down to the smallest detail and was now waiting for advice. Or at least some comfort.
“No, I just can’t believe it!” Valya slammed her fist on the table. “Misha has barely been buried and they’re already dividing up the spoils! And they call themselves his children!”
“I don’t know what to do,” Ekaterina said, wiping away her tears. “Maybe they’re right? I really was only with Misha for five years…”
“Katya, what are you saying? Have you lost your mind? This is your home! You’re Misha’s wife! Legally! And those two… those… They have families of their own, apartments of their own!”
“Yulia said that according to the law…”
“There’s the law, and then there’s the law! Did Misha leave a will?”
Ekaterina shrugged helplessly.
“I don’t know. He never talked about it.”
“Right!” Valya stood up decisively. “First, you’re going to stop crying. Go wash your face. Then we’re going to think.”
When Ekaterina returned from the bathroom, Valentina was already typing something on her phone.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, my friend. My nephew works at a law firm. I’ve messaged him and I’m waiting for an answer. In the meantime, gather every document you have—your marriage certificate, the apartment papers. Everything.”
“They’re in the cabinet in the study.”
“Then go get them!”
Over the next few days, Yulia called twice. Both conversations were short and unpleasant.
“Katya, have you started packing? Lyosha and I found a realtor. He wants to inspect the apartment.”
“Yulia, I’m not planning to move anywhere. This is my home.”
“Katya, don’t make things difficult. We’re going to settle this one way or another.”
On Saturday, Yulia and Alexey arrived without warning. A man in a suit was with them.
“Meet Viktor, the realtor,” Yulia said, walking into the apartment without permission. “We’re going to look at the rooms, okay?”
“No,” Ekaterina said, beginning to feel angry. And to think she had been afraid before… “You have no right to walk around my apartment with strangers.”
“Katya, don’t start,” Alexey said with a grimace. “Let’s not make a scene. Everyone knows this was Dad’s apartment.”
“I’m his wife. And I live here.”
“Temporarily,” Yulia said, smiling at the realtor. “Family complications, you understand.”
They walked through the entire apartment. Ekaterina followed them closely, feeling like a ghost in her own home. Yulia opened wardrobes and peered into cabinets.
“This place clearly needs renovation. The wallpaper is old, and the bathroom tiles are cracked.”
“Misha and I put up this wallpaper only a year ago!” Ekaterina finally snapped.
“Really?” Yulia scoffed. “Looks ten years old to me. Anyway, Viktor, how much do you think we could get for it?”
The realtor named a figure. Ekaterina felt dizzy.
“Wouldn’t you need my consent to sell it?”
“That depends on the documents,” the realtor replied evasively.
When they left, Ekaterina called Valya.
“Valya, they came with a realtor. They’re already discussing the price.”
“Those bastards! Don’t worry, Misha would never have allowed this to happen. The notary is coming tomorrow, right? I’m coming with you.”
“What if they’re right? What if I really have no rights?”
“You actually believe those vultures? Hang in there, Katyusha. Tomorrow everything will become clear.”
Ekaterina did not sleep that night. Fragments of phrases spun around in her head. “Move out.” “Dad’s apartment.” “A new husband.” Yulia had never liked her much, but this… In the morning, Ekaterina could barely force herself out of bed. The doorbell rang at exactly ten.
Ekaterina opened the door. Yulia stood on the threshold beside an elderly man in a suit. Alexey hovered behind them.
“Hi,” Yulia said curtly. “This is Sergey Ivanovich, the notary. May we come in?”
“Yes, come in,” Ekaterina said, stepping aside.
“Has Valentina Sergeyevna not arrived yet?” the notary asked.
“No. Do you know her?”
“We agreed to meet here,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Well, we’ll start without her.”
Yulia gave Ekaterina a displeased look. At that moment the doorbell rang—Valya had arrived.
“Hello, everyone!” she said, striding decisively into the room. “Am I late?”
“No, no, we’re just starting,” the notary replied, taking a folder of papers from his briefcase.
Everyone sat down at the table. Yulia nervously tapped her fingernails against the polished surface.
“Right,” the notary cleared his throat. “We have gathered here regarding the will of Mikhail Petrovich Sokolov, who passed away on…” He named the date.
“What will?” Yulia leaned forward. “Dad didn’t leave a will!”
“Actually, he did,” the notary said, adjusting his glasses. “It was drawn up three years ago at my office.”
“Something’s wrong here,” Alexey said, shaking his head. “Dad would have told us.”
“Not necessarily,” the notary replied, opening the folder. “May I continue?”
Yulia reluctantly nodded. Ekaterina sat with her hands clenched beneath the table. Misha had left a will? And he had never told her?
“I, Sokolov Mikhail Petrovich, being of sound mind and memory…” The notary read through the formal legal language. Ekaterina barely listened until she heard her own name. “…bequeath all of my property, including the three-room apartment located at… to my wife, Sokolova Ekaterina Pavlovna.”
The room became as silent as a grave.
“What?!” Yulia nearly jumped out of her chair. “That can’t be!”
“It most certainly can,” the notary replied calmly. “The will was executed in full accordance with the law. Here, see for yourself.”
He handed her the document. Yulia snatched it with trembling hands and quickly scanned it.
“But how… This isn’t fair! We’re his children!”
“Yulia,” Alexey placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “If that’s what Dad decided…”
“No!” She shook off his hand. “I don’t believe it! She forced him!” Yulia pointed at Ekaterina. “She manipulated him however she wanted for five years!”
“Yulia Mikhailovna,” the notary said with a frown. “Let’s do without the hysterics. Your father made the decision himself. I spoke to him personally.”
“I’ll sue!” Yulia jumped to her feet. “This… this is outrageous! Dad built up this apartment when she wasn’t even in the picture!”
“That is your right,” the notary said with a shrug. “But I should warn you—your chances are almost nonexistent. The will was drawn up properly.”
Ekaterina sat there as if struck by lightning. Misha had thought of everything. He had protected her.
“Katya,” Valya nudged her with her elbow. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“I… I didn’t know about the will.”
“Of course you didn’t!” Yulia said venomously. “Otherwise you would have been waving it in our faces ages ago!”
“Yulia!” Alexey stood up. “Enough. Let’s get out of here.”
“Where are you going? You’re giving up? This… this inheritance hunter grabbed Dad’s apartment, and you’re just walking away?”
“Yes, I am. Because this is what Dad decided. And we have to respect that.”
Yulia glared at her brother furiously.
“Traitor!” She grabbed her handbag. “This isn’t over!”
She slammed the door so hard that the dishes in the cabinet rattled.
“Sorry,” Alexey said awkwardly with a shrug. “She’ll calm down.”
“Do you think I’m… an inheritance hunter too?” Ekaterina asked quietly.
“No.” He shook his head. “Dad was happy with you. I could see that.”
“Thank you, Lyosha,” Ekaterina said, tears filling her eyes.
Alexey nodded and left as well. The notary gathered his documents.
“Ekaterina Pavlovna, here is a copy of the will. Keep it safe. And here is my business card. If you have any questions, call me.”
When everyone had gone, Valya pulled a bottle of wine out of her bag.
“Well, my friend, shall we celebrate your victory?”
“Valya, it’s not even ten yet.”
“So what? This calls for a celebration! I told you Misha wouldn’t abandon you!”
They sat in the kitchen, and Ekaterina still could not quite believe what had happened.
“You know, I’d already accepted it. I was thinking about where I would go and what I would do.”
“And what are you thinking now?”
“I don’t know. Yulia was so angry. Alexey seemed to take it reasonably well, but I’m sure he’s hurt too.”
“To hell with them!” Valya waved her hand. “Selfish people! You made Misha’s final years happy, and what did they do? Came by once a month, and even then with sour faces.”
“They’re still his children.”
“Yeah, children. Forty-year-old vultures. Misha did exactly the right thing. He wasn’t stupid—he saw what his precious children had grown into.”
Valya left after lunch. Ekaterina remained alone in the quiet apartment. Slowly, she walked through every room, as though getting acquainted with them all over again. Her home. Now, officially, hers.
Yulia called that evening.
“Are you happy?” Her voice sounded muffled.
“Yulia, I didn’t know about the will.”
“Of course you didn’t. You had nothing to do with anything, right? It just happened that the poor widow gets the apartment, while his own children get no inheritance.”
“You have apartments of your own. I have nothing except this place.”
“Don’t play the victim! How old are you—forty? You’ll find yourself another sugar daddy with an apartment!”
“Yulia, stop!”
“No, you stop! You think this is over? I’m taking you to court! I’ll prove you manipulated my father!”
Ekaterina sighed wearily.
“Do whatever you want. But Misha made this decision himself. He didn’t owe you anything.”
“You certainly landed on your feet!” Yulia’s voice trembled with tears. “Five years of marriage and you get a three-room apartment in the city center!”
“I loved your father.”
“Oh, spare me. Everyone knows what this was really about!”
Yulia hung up. Ekaterina sat for a long time holding the phone. Then she texted Alexey: “Lyosha, let’s not quarrel. Come visit whenever you want.”
There was no reply.
The following weeks passed quietly. Neither Yulia nor Alexey called or visited. Ekaterina gradually grew accustomed to her new life—the life of a woman on her own. She packed Misha’s belongings away in the wardrobe, repainted the bedroom walls, and bought new curtains.
One day, while walking past a pet store, she went inside and came out carrying a pet carrier with a ginger kitten inside. Misha had always wanted a cat, but he had been allergic.
“You’ll be Ryzhik,” she told the kitten when they arrived home. “Your first name isn’t very original, but at least it’s honest.”
The kitten quickly settled in and filled the apartment with his presence. With him around, Ekaterina did not feel quite so lonely.
A couple of months later, Alexey unexpectedly called.
“Katya, how are you?”
“I’m all right, Lyosha. How are you?”
“I’m fine too. Listen… could I come over? We could talk.”
He arrived that evening carrying a cake. He stood awkwardly in the hallway.
“Come in,” Ekaterina smiled. “Would you like some tea?”
“I would.”
They sat in the kitchen drinking tea. Alexey stroked Ryzhik and talked about work and about his children. Then suddenly he said:
“Katya, I’m sorry about that circus. And about Yulia. She’s always been… difficult.”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t. We behaved like… never mind. Dad was right. This is your home.”
Ekaterina smiled and shrugged.
“Thank you, Lyosha.”
After he left, she walked to the window and stood there for a long time, looking out at the evening city. Ryzhik rubbed against her legs, demanding attention. Outside, the first snow was falling. Her first winter without Misha—but in their home. In her home.
“Thank you, Misha,” she whispered. “Thank you for everything.”
Then she turned around, picked up the cat, and went into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea. Life went on, and now she knew for certain that she would manage.
With that certainty came peace. And something else, something new—a sense of strength.
She was no longer a victim of circumstances.
Now she was the mistress of her own life.
