Vera froze in place, as though someone had suddenly doused her with ice-cold water.
A gray minivan was parked outside the entrance to the apartment building, its rear hatch wide open. Igor was bustling around beside it. Her husband grabbed the handles of an enormous plaid bag—the kind people took to open-air markets—and dragged it toward the entrance. A young woman of about thirty followed him. She wore a short quilted jacket and carried two sports bags. The stranger seemed remarkably at ease in the courtyard, as though she had been there many times before.
Vera stopped beside the playground. She could not take another step. Her feet seemed glued to the pavement, and her hands suddenly turned cold.
Igor had not noticed his wife. Holding the door open with his foot, he let the young woman enter first and quietly said something to her. She nodded and laughed in response—lightly, casually, almost as though she already owned the place.
Vera remained where she was. One minute passed, then another. Her thoughts rapidly formed a single picture, and it promised nothing good. The young woman had arrived with her belongings, and Igor was personally carrying her large bags into their apartment. From his hurried movements and tense back, it was obvious that he had not expected his wife to appear at that particular moment.
A hot, angry feeling gradually began to burn inside Vera. Still, she did not approach the building. She remained by the playground, silently watching what was happening.
So he had found someone else. Someone younger. And because his wife was rarely home, he had decided that he could secretly move another woman into their apartment.
But what was he planning to do with Vera?
She remembered that for the past two weeks, Igor had returned to the same subject almost every day. At first, he had spoken calmly, but each evening he became more insistent: her mother found it difficult to live alone, so perhaps Vera should stay with her for a while and help around the house.
Vera had initially refused, but her husband continued pressuring her until she finally gave in. She decided to stay with her mother for a month—or two at the most. There had never been any question of moving there permanently.
But today Vera had returned unexpectedly, without warning anyone.
Apparently, Igor had interpreted her agreement very differently and had prepared everything in advance.
She entered the intercom code and quietly followed them into the building. The elevator was already going up. Vera took the stairs, and before she reached the third floor, she heard voices.
The apartment door stood wide open, and the enormous plaid bag had been left directly on the threshold. The young woman in the short jacket was examining the entrance hall and, for some reason, running her fingers over the wallpaper near the light switch.
Hearing footsteps, the stranger turned around. When she saw Vera, she apparently assumed that she was a neighbor.
“Are you from apartment seventy-two?” she asked pleasantly. “Igor Petrovich told me the neighbors here are very nice. Has the room been cleared out already? He promised to remove everything today so I could move in.”
For several seconds, Vera could not understand which room the woman meant.
“What room?” she finally asked.
“What do you mean, what room? The one at the far end, with the balcony. I’m paying for it.” The stranger frowned slightly. “Don’t you know anything about it? Igor Petrovich said the previous tenant was still living there. She was supposed to leave for her relatives’ house today, and I was moving in.”
Vera’s mouth instantly went dry. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag.
So that was what was happening.
This woman was not Igor’s mistress.
She was a tenant.
Igor had secretly rented a room to this young woman and told her that a former tenant was temporarily staying in the apartment but would be moving out permanently that very day.
And that “tenant,” it turned out, was Vera.
Igor emerged from the apartment. His hands were empty now. The moment he saw his wife, the expression on his face changed dramatically.
“Why are you back so early?” was all he managed to say instead of greeting her.
“I see you have company,” Vera replied. “Who did you rent my room to?”
Igor quickly stepped closer and began speaking in a low voice, swallowing his words in his haste, as though he hoped that speaking quietly would somehow conceal what was happening.
“Vera, don’t start a scene in front of a stranger. Let’s go inside and discuss everything calmly.”
“What stranger? Who is she?”
The young woman looked from Vera to Igor and back again. Almost nothing remained of her earlier friendliness.
“My name is Kristina,” she introduced herself cautiously. “I’m renting a room here starting today. I paid six months in advance. Igor Petrovich, would you please explain what is happening?”
“Nothing is happening,” Igor replied hastily.
He turned his back on Kristina as though trying to shield his wife from her.
“It’s just a small misunderstanding. We’ll sort it out now. Go downstairs and wait by the car. I’ll be there soon.”
But Kristina did not move.
Vera stared at her husband, blinking in disbelief. For twenty-nine years, this man had helped her unpack her work bag in the evenings and put the kettle on for her. Now he stood in the middle of their shared entrance hall, effectively attempting to throw his own wife out of her home—in front of a complete stranger.
“She isn’t going anywhere to wait,” Vera said. “And neither are you. Kristina, sit on the bag for now. It looks as though this is going to be a long conversation.”
“Vera!” Igor raised his voice, but immediately lowered it again after glancing toward the neighboring apartment. “You’re creating a scandal over nothing. You’re hardly ever home. You’re always at work, and I’m left here to deal with everything alone. Then you suddenly appear and immediately start picking a fight. Let me handle this properly.”
“Then handle it,” Vera replied calmly. “Kristina, how much money did you give him?”
The young woman remained silent for a moment, looking from one spouse to the other. Finally, she answered.
“I gave him a ten-thousand-ruble deposit last week when I came to see the room. He asked me to bring the rest of the payment for six months today, when I moved in. I handed him the money about an hour ago. He was rushing me and said he urgently needed it. He also told me that the apartment belonged entirely to him and was registered in his name. He said the previous tenant was leaving today.”
“So the apartment is registered in your name,” Vera repeated with a brief, bitter smile. “Igor, why don’t you explain in front of Kristina exactly what belongs solely to you here?”
Her husband did not reply. Only his Adam’s apple moved nervously.
They had bought the apartment together many years ago, using an installment plan provided by the company where Igor worked at the time. Everything had been registered properly: half of the apartment belonged to Vera, and the other half belonged to her husband.
“So, Kristina,” Vera continued quietly, “the ‘former tenant’ he told you so much about is me. I am officially registered here, and I own half of this apartment. I have no intention of moving out today.”
“Well, that’s quite a scheme you’ve arranged,” Kristina said, slowly rising from the bag. “You rent me a room and take my money, and then I discover that this woman isn’t a tenant at all—she’s a co-owner of the apartment. What do you call that, Igor Petrovich?”
“He even promised to renovate the room before winter,” Kristina continued, becoming increasingly upset. “I saw the advertisement, came here, and he showed me everything. He took the deposit, and it all seemed perfectly legitimate. I trusted him. And now I find out about this.”
Vera did not take her eyes off her husband. She was gradually beginning to understand why he had done it.
For the past several months, Igor had been walking around looking gloomy. At night, he often went into the kitchen and spoke quietly to someone for a long time. Whenever Vera asked what was wrong, he always gave the same answer: problems at work.
Then there was his friend Gena, whose loan for an auto-repair shop Igor had agreed to guarantee in the spring.
Suddenly, Vera understood.
“Is this because of Gena?” she asked quietly. “Because of that loan?”
Igor abruptly raised his head and finally lost control.
“Yes! Your precious Gena’s business collapsed! Are you happy now? He lost everything, and now they’re demanding payment from me because I guaranteed the loan! The payment is due this week, and I have nowhere to get the money! That’s why I rented out the room! That’s why I asked you to stay with your mother! I asked you nicely, but you had to show up right now!”
Igor suddenly fell silent, realizing that he had said too much, and cautiously glanced at Kristina.
The neighboring apartment door opened. Lyuba, whom Vera had greeted beside the elevator for nearly twenty years, peered out. Uncle Slava from the fifth floor, who knew Igor from the garage, also came downstairs after hearing the commotion.
“Verushka, is everything all right?” Lyuba asked, staring in surprise at the bags and the unfamiliar young woman.
At that moment, Vera could easily have broken down and cried in front of everyone. Yet she remained composed. A stranger’s luggage stood at her feet, her own belongings had been prepared for removal nearby, and still she spoke with remarkable calmness—as though discussing an ordinary household matter with her neighbor.
“Everything is wonderful, Lyuba. Igor rented out a room without my permission. He took six months’ rent from this young woman, told her he was the sole owner of the apartment, and sent me to stay with my mother.”
Lyuba gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Uncle Slava grunted heavily and stared at Igor for a long moment.
Only then did Igor seem to realize how many people had gathered around him. He straightened up, looked at the neighbors, and began speaking loudly and confidently, addressing them more than his wife.
“Lyuba, don’t listen to her! The whole building knows what a troublemaker she is. She’s making a scene over nothing. I legally own half of this apartment. If I want to, I’ll have her removed from the registration through the courts and rent out my room to whomever I choose. I have every right.”
Igor then turned to Kristina and softened his tone.
“You aren’t going anywhere. Our agreement still stands, understand? I’m the owner here, and I make the decisions.”
Kristina looked bewildered and shifted nervously from one foot to the other. Lyuba glanced uncertainly at Vera. Even Uncle Slava coughed and looked away.
But Vera continued speaking in the same calm voice.
“You cannot remove an owner from the registration, Igor, and you know that perfectly well. Half of this apartment belongs to me, and I am not leaving. You lied to Kristina about some previous tenant. You even prepared my belongings to be taken away. There they are. Kristina, look for yourself: that’s my coat and my kitchenware.”
Kristina looked at the belongings stacked beside the wall and then turned toward Igor. Her expression hardened.
“So you lied to me,” she said. “Igor Petrovich, return my money. All of it—the deposit and the six months’ rent. Right now.”
“I’ll return it. Of course I will,” Igor immediately began fussing. All his earlier confidence had disappeared. “Just not right now. The money is already in circulation. You have to understand…”
“What do you mean, ‘in circulation’?” Kristina’s voice rose. “You counted it in front of me only an hour ago. You also wrote me a receipt with your own hand, and I still have it. If you don’t return everything by tomorrow, I’ll go to the police and file a fraud complaint. I’ve saved our messages too. In them, you personally describe this so-called ‘tenant’ of yours.”
Igor looked helplessly around the landing, as though hoping to find at least one person who would support him.
But no one was in a hurry to do so.
Lyuba stared at him disapprovingly. Uncle Slava merely shook his head. Kristina waited in silence.
“Vera, say something to her,” Igor suddenly pleaded with his wife. “Explain that we’ll sort everything out. We’re a family, after all. We’ve been together for twenty-nine years. The two of us can gradually repay everything…”
“No, Igor. You will deal with this by yourself. You will return every last penny to Kristina. Where you get the money is none of my concern. Sell the garage or ask Gena. Solve it yourself.”
Vera bent down, grabbed the nearest bag by its handles, and moved it across the threshold onto the landing. Then she carried out the second one. Kristina understood what she meant and began collecting the remaining bags herself.
“Take your belongings, Kristina,” Vera said. “And leave me your telephone number. If necessary, I’ll confirm to the police that Igor deceived you.”
Kristina nodded and dictated her number. Lyuba wrote it down as well, just to make sure the contact information was not lost.
Vera turned toward her husband.
“Now pack your belongings and leave. Put your key on the cabinet. I’ll have the lock changed tomorrow. You can consider the locksmith already hired.”
“You have no right! This apartment belongs to both of us!” Igor protested.
“So now it has suddenly become our shared apartment?” Vera replied.
Igor froze in the doorway and stared at his wife, slowly realizing what his scheme had led to.
Meanwhile, Kristina was already carrying her bags toward the elevator. Uncle Slava silently approached and helped her with the heaviest one. Lyuba gently touched Vera’s elbow.
“Verushka, if you need anything, come and see me. And about the lock—my son-in-law does that kind of work. I’ll give you his number. He’ll do it more cheaply for you.”
“Thank you, Lyuba,” Vera replied. “I’ll come by.”
She returned to the apartment. Her fingers were still trembling slightly. She wanted to laugh and burst into tears at the same time.
Igor remained by the door for a little while longer before going downstairs to the car. For the time being, he moved in with Gena.
Kristina eventually went to the police because Igor never returned the money as he had promised. Recently, Gena asked his wife to forgive him and also tried to borrow money from her. She refused. Moreover, she decided to file for divorce.
Now Vera sits at home in front of the television every evening and asks herself the same question: How could she have lived with such a man for twenty-nine years without noticing who had been beside her all along?
After all, Igor will most likely try to sell his share of the apartment now so that he can pay off his mounting debts.
