After her wedding night, Katya stood in the middle of her cozy kitchen, holding a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee between her palms. Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, gliding softly across the polished surfaces of the stylish kitchen cabinets. She stared thoughtfully out the window, trying to understand why the first day of her marriage was turning out so differently from what she had imagined.
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“Where is the romance?” she thought with a touch of bitterness. “Where is breakfast in bed, the tender embraces, the kisses, and the conversations about our future together?”
Instead, her new husband, Slavik, was snoring peacefully in the bedroom, while Olga Pavlovna—her mother-in-law, who possessed the temperament of a high-court judge and the ambitions of Napoleon—was pacing through the hallway, her heels clicking loudly against the parquet floor. A real estate agent followed behind her like a faithful shadow, wearing a hopelessly wrinkled jacket and carrying a battered folder under his arm.
“So, where are the south-facing windows?” he asked briskly, examining the living room with a professional eye.
“Over there!” Olga Pavlovna replied cheerfully, displaying an indecently good mood for such an early hour. “As you can see, the apartment is very nice, although it isn’t in the city center. Yes, we need to calculate how much my Slavik would receive in the event of a divorce if something went wrong. We need to understand what he has invested in.”
She said it as casually as if she were discussing the weather forecast, then continued:
“As his mother, I need to understand everything, calculate everything, and make sure nothing is overlooked.”
Hearing this speech, Katya nearly choked on her coffee. After catching her breath, she turned toward her mother-in-law with a polite smile pasted onto her face.
“I’m sorry, but what did you just say?” she asked, hoping that she had misheard.
Olga Pavlovna, clearly pleased with the effect she had produced, folded her arms across her chest and repeated emphatically:
“I’m talking about how much he will receive if he divorces you. My son, that is. You married him yesterday, so the property is already jointly owned.”
She swept her hand around the room as though she were already dividing it between herself and her son.
“And I can see you’re no fool. You managed to get him to marry you, and you already have a belly.”
She stared meaningfully at Katya’s waist.
“As I understand it, you two managed to do it before the wedding. Or perhaps,” she added, her voice becoming poisonously sweet, “the baby isn’t Slavik’s at all. We still need to establish that. And if you divorce and it turns out that my son isn’t the child’s father, we’ll divide everything equally, as the law requires.”
Katya slowly placed her cup on the table, feeling anger begin to boil inside her. She looked at the real estate agent. When he caught her gaze, he turned away awkwardly and began photographing the ceiling with exaggerated interest.
“Does Slavik even know that you’re here?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady despite the knot of outrage tightening in her throat.
“I think he’s awake by now,” Olga Pavlovna replied dismissively. “He’s probably washing up. He has been under stress since yesterday. You see, he didn’t expect you to turn up pregnant.”
She paused meaningfully.
“That’s why he asked me to speak to the real estate agent. He sent me a message early this morning while you were in the shower.”
She sighed like a great martyr.
“We have nothing against the baby, but everything must be handled according to the law. What if you and Slavik divorce and he is left with nothing but the underwear he’s wearing? No, that won’t do. We can’t allow that.”
Katya felt a wave of cold fury rising inside her. She straightened her back and looked at her mother-in-law so sharply that Olga Pavlovna involuntarily took a step backward.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Katya said with icy politeness, “but I need to make one quick phone call. Please wait.”
She pulled her phone from the pocket of her robe and dialed a number. When the call was answered, she turned on the speaker.
“Hello, Dad,” she said, watching her mother-in-law’s reaction. “My mother-in-law has come here with a real estate agent. They’re appraising the apartment you bought for me. They want to find out how much their Slavik would receive if he divorced me. Apparently, once he discovered that I was pregnant, he decided it was time to start preparing for a divorce. Can you believe it?”
The silence on the other end lasted only a few seconds. But during those seconds, Olga Pavlovna’s face began to change like the sky before a thunderstorm.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” her father’s voice thundered through the phone, making even the real estate agent flinch. “How dare he? In that case, he can return all the money I spent on the wedding. I’ll send him and his mother the bill. And they should remember that the apartment was registered in your name before the marriage and purchased with my money. So that real estate agent can examine his own forehead to see whether it needs antiseptic rather than appraising your kitchen and ceilings!”
Katya smiled sweetly at her now-pale mother-in-law.
“And Olga Pavlovna, you do remember that my father is a lawyer, don’t you? He sends his regards.”
Her mother-in-law froze, turning as white as freshly painted wallpaper. The real estate agent, realizing that he had found himself caught between a rock and a hard place, instinctively pressed himself against the wall as though hoping to blend into the interior.
“How can that be? It’s registered in her name?” Olga Pavlovna muttered uncertainly, almost as if speaking to herself.
Without losing her composure, Katya took two steps forward, gracefully rested one hand on the edge of the table, and spoke slowly.
“That is exactly right, my dear mother-in-law. This apartment was purchased several months before the wedding, registered in my name, and paid for entirely by my father. Incidentally, he has all the documents. I can bring you copies if you’re interested.”
She paused dramatically.
“And Slavik and I have also signed a prenuptial agreement.”
“A prenuptial… agreement?” her mother-in-law stammered.
“My father insisted on it, even though I was against the idea,” Katya said with a shrug. “A prenuptial agreement. Can you imagine?”
Olga Pavlovna’s eyes widened in horror as though she had seen a ghost.
At that moment, Slavik—the man responsible for this entire celebration—finally emerged from the bathroom. Wearing a terrycloth robe, holding a toothbrush, and with toothpaste foam still covering his chin, he stared in confusion at the dramatic scene unfolding in the kitchen.
“Hello… What is going on here?” he asked, blinking.
“Slavochka!” his mother cried, rushing toward him like a drowning person reaching for a life preserver. “We’ve been deceived! It turns out that everything here is against us, do you understand? None of it belongs to you—or to us! And this girl…”
She shot Katya a scorching glare.
“Forgive me, Lord, but she arranged everything beforehand with her lawyer father. They probably planned every last detail. She even trapped you with a baby so that she could win the court’s sympathy later!”
“Mom, what is this?” Slavik groaned, running a hand through his wet hair. “I haven’t even finished washing up. What have you done here?”
Katya calmly took a book from the cabinet, sat gracefully at the table, and began turning the pages while watching Olga Pavlovna pace in circles and wave her hands as if conducting an invisible orchestra of hysteria.
“She is threatening me, too!” her mother-in-law continued, her voice rising to a piercing pitch. “She says her father sends us his regards! That is obvious pressure and intimidation!”
Katya looked up from her book and fixed Olga Pavlovna with a cold stare.
“My father happens to run a law firm with thirty attorneys, and you, Olga Pavlovna, are now receiving his special attention.”
The real estate agent, clearly realizing that he had chosen the wrong side of the conflict, attempted to slip unnoticed into the hallway. Katya called after him.
“And where are you going? What about the appraisal? Perhaps my father should appraise my apartment for you—from the perspective of your chances in court.”
The agent stumbled over a cabinet and nearly dropped his folder.
“I have another inspection nearby,” he muttered. “Very nearby!”
He vanished into the entrance hall, leaving behind a trail of cheap cologne and panic.
Meanwhile, Slavik realized that shaving and washing his face had probably been the calmest moments of this insane day.
“Katenka, please listen to me,” he muttered, attempting to smooth things over. “Mom is only worried. She…”
“Your mother isn’t simply worried,” Katya interrupted, snapping the book shut. “She has been my mother-in-law for only two days, and she is already calculating how much you’ll receive when we divorce. That seriously undermines my faith in the institution of marriage.”
“I wasn’t even thinking about divorce! Honestly!” he protested, dropping his hands helplessly. “It was just so unexpected. You told me before we went to sleep that you were pregnant, and I…”
“Oh, now I understand.” Katya narrowed her eyes. “So you immediately sent a message to your mother?”
“Well, yes,” he admitted awkwardly, apparently unable to understand why that was a problem.
Katya rose from the table and slowly walked toward him. Looking him directly in the eyes, she smiled in a way that sent shivers down Slavik’s spine.
“And I thought you would run out to buy flowers and congratulate me—or go to the pharmacy to buy vitamins. Instead, you immediately sought legal advice from your mother and a real estate agent. How romantic.”
By then, Olga Pavlovna had retreated into the hallway and appeared to be calling a friend. She was shouting so loudly that every word could be heard from the kitchen.
“Lenochka, just listen to this! Can you imagine? It turns out they have a prenuptial agreement! Yes, that petty lawyer—Katya’s father—planned everything! He has left us with nothing! What are we supposed to do now? What? Do you know a good divorce lawyer?”
Katya sighed heavily, as though dealing with a badly behaved child rather than a grown woman. She took a sheet of paper and a pen from a drawer, approached Olga Pavlovna, and placed them in front of her.
“Here is a list of lawyers who definitely won’t help you,” she said with icy calm. “The first one is my father. The rest are all his colleagues. And if you ever enter my home without warning again…”
Olga Pavlovna noisily ended the call and shot her son a defeated glare.
“Slavik, pack your things immediately! We’re leaving! I can see that nothing good will come of this!”
“Mom, but I live here,” Slavik reminded her, looking helplessly from his wife to his mother.
“Not anymore. Come on, we’re going home! You will always have a room in my apartment.”
Katya smiled again, this time with a hint of sadness.
“Slavik, tell me something. Did you really need to get married if you run to your mother every time there’s a conflict?”
“I’m not running anywhere!” he exclaimed, clenching his fists nervously.
“Then who invited the real estate agent because of the message you sent?”
Slavik said nothing and lowered his eyes. A heavy silence settled over the room.
“You see?” Katya said quietly. “So perhaps it really would be better if you left. And if you ever decide to come back, you’ll need a lawyer. But first, you’ll need courage, responsibility, and respect—the qualities that no amount of money can buy.”
When they finally left—Slavik with his head lowered and a hastily packed bag in his hand, and Olga Pavlovna with her mouth tightly compressed in anger—the apartment sank into blissful silence.
Katya slowly approached the window and watched them get into a car outside the building. Her heart ached, but she quickly regained control and called her father.
“Dad, everything went according to plan—even better than expected,” she said, watching her mother-in-law’s car pull away. “Slavik’s mommy has gone, the real estate agent fled, and the groom himself has gone away to think about the meaning of life and the concept of family.”
“That’s my clever girl. Well done,” her father replied proudly. “Would you like me to sue the real estate agent for emotional distress?”
“Not yet, Dad, although it’s an excellent idea,” Katya said with a laugh.
After ending the call, she slowly lowered herself into a comfortable armchair beside the window. Gently placing her hands on her belly, she smiled.
“Well, little one, that was your first family drama. Remember this: you and I aren’t the kind of people who surrender to hysterical relatives. Your grandfather is a respected lawyer, so your dear daddy will support us completely—but from a distance.”
Outside the window, a new day was beginning—the first day of her unpredictable married life. Or perhaps it was the first day of her new, independent life.
Katya smiled at the thought and took a deep breath. Whatever happened next, she and her baby would manage.
