“No, you will not be living here. Not in any room, not in the pantry, not in the attic. This is not up for discussion.
‘You have to understand, Mashenka, it’s only temporary, just until you get back on your feet,’ Nina Pavlovna said, carefully packing porcelain figurines into a box, wrapping each one in newspaper with almost painful meticulousness. ‘We’ll rent out the apartment, get good money for it, pay for your semester right away, and then, who knows, maybe you’ll transfer back to the state-funded program if you finally come to your senses.’
Masha sat on the edge of the sofa, swinging her foot in a holey sock, watching her mother’s packing with skepticism. She had disliked the idea from the very beginning, but there was not much choice: being expelled from the tuition-free program for skipping classes had already 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 really think he and Katya are waiting for us there with open arms? Their honeymoon has barely ended, you could say, they’ve got a brand-new house, and then here we come: “Hello, make us up a bed in the living room.”’
‘Anton is my son, and he will understand everything properly,’ Nina Pavlovna cut in, smoothing the folds of an old blanket she was also planning to take with them. ‘He knows how hard things are for us right now. Your father, God rest his soul, left nothing but debts and this “two-room apartment” that has been begging for repairs for ten years. And they have a huge house, two floors—what do the two of them need all that space for? Just to frighten the echo.’
‘And Katya?’ Masha would not let up. ‘She never exactly smiled at me. She always looks at me as if I’d stolen money from her.’
Nina Pavlovna froze with a vase in her hands. For a moment, her face took on the expression people reserve for foolish little kittens.
To be continued in the comments.”
“Try to understand, Masha, it’s only temporary, just until you get back on your feet,” Nina Pavlovna said as she carefully packed porcelain figurines into a box, wrapping each one in newspaper with almost painful precision. “We’ll rent out the apartment, get good money for it, pay for the semester right away, and then, who knows, maybe you’ll get back into the state-funded program if you finally come to your senses.”
Masha sat on the edge of the sofa, swinging her foot in a sock with a hole in it, skeptically watching her mother pack. She had disliked the idea from the very beginning, but there was not much choice: being expelled from the tuition-free program for skipping classes had become an unerasable fact of her biography.
“Mom, does Anton even know about your brilliant plans?” her daughter asked, scratching her ankle. “Do you really think he and Katya are waiting for us with open arms? They’ve barely finished their honeymoon, they’ve got a new house, and then here we come: ‘Hi there, make up the living room couch for us.’”
“Anton is my son, and he’ll understand everything the right way,” Nina Pavlovna cut in, smoothing the folds of an old blanket she was planning to take with them too. “He knows how hard things are for us right now. Your father, God rest his soul, left us nothing but debts and this two-room apartment that’s needed repairs for ten years. And they’ve got a huge house, two stories—what do two people need all that space for? Just to scare the echo.”
“And Katya?” Masha persisted. “She’s never exactly smiled at me. She always looks at me like I stole money from her.”
Nina Pavlovna froze with a vase in her hands. For a moment, her face took on the expression people wear when looking at foolish little kittens.
“Masha, what nonsense are you talking. Katya is the wife. Her job is to support her husband. Anton will say it, and she’ll agree. Who is she to argue? She joined their family, not the other way around. And anyway, I’ve thought everything through. I’ll make such a beautiful flower bed on the first floor, it’ll be a sight to behold. They need help around the house—the property is huge. I’ll be useful, and you can stay in your room and study. No one will even notice we’re living there.”
“Yeah, we’ll be about as noticeable as elephants in a china shop,” Masha snorted, but she got up to help her mother tape shut another box. “Fine, you win. But if Anton throws us out, I’ll remind you of this.”
“He won’t,” her mother said with a confident smile, patting her daughter’s shoulder. “He has a kind heart. And we have nowhere else to go anyway—the tenants are moving in tomorrow, and I’ve already spent the deposit on your new boots and courses. That’s it, there’s no going back. Get packed.”
The house stood on a small rise surrounded by young pine trees, and looked as if it had stepped straight out of a magazine on modern architecture. Built of dark brick and pale wood, it had an unusual shape, like 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 in part thanks to her patents for special enzymes.
Anton, who designed covers for high-tech prosthetics, valued ergonomics and light in their new home. He darted around the kitchen, helping his wife arrange the appetizers. In his hands, even slicing bread turned into a precise engineering process.
“Did you remember the cream?” Katya asked, tucking back a loose strand of dark hair. She didn’t like fuss, but today was a special day.
“I did, and I got that bread with seeds you love,” Anton said, kissing her temple. “The guests are almost here. Nervous?”
“A little. Did your mother call?”
“No, strangely enough. Usually she calls three times before leaving the house to ask about the weather,” Anton chuckled. “Maybe she’s preparing a surprise.”
The guests filled the first floor almost instantly. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, the scent of expensive perfume and roasted meat with herbs blended into a single festive cocktail. Their friends admired the layout, the high ceilings, and the strange but alluring atmosphere the hosts had created.
Nina Pavlovna and Masha arrived an hour late. They entered not like guests, but like inspectors. Anton’s mother, dressed in her best dress with large flowers on it, headed straight for the center of the living room. Masha trailed behind her, dragging a huge bag stuffed with something soft.
“Well, hello there, new homeowners!” her voice rang out over the music. “A royal palace, no less!”
Anton hurried toward his mother to take the bags from her, but she brushed him off. Her gaze was already scanning the room, noting free corners, the lighting, and the arrangement of the furniture.
“Mom, come in, we’ve been waiting for you,” Anton said, smiling, not noticing the tension his mother had brought with her.
“Oh, I can see that,” Nina Pavlovna nodded. “Katya, why are the curtains so heavy? There’s no sun at all. Never mind, we’ll fix that.”
She walked to the large table, unceremoniously shoved the chairs aside, and sat down at the head, even though that place was clearly meant for the хозяин of the house. The guests fell slightly quieter, sensing the discord. Katya, holding a bowl of salad, froze for a second, but professional composure took over. She silently set the dish on the table.
The evening rolled forward by inertia. Toast followed toast, with wishes for children, wealth, and long life. 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, rising to her feet. “I’m so happy for my son. To build such a house! But here’s what I’ve been thinking. Masha and I talked it over and decided to give you a gift. We’re moving in with you!”
The room did not fall silent—it was crushed under silence like beneath a concrete slab. Someone choked on wine. Katya slowly set her fork down on 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. Masha needs to study, and there’s no money to pay, while you have enough room here for a whole platoon of soldiers. I’ve already figured it out: Masha will take that room with the south-facing window—she needs the light for studying. And I’ll settle downstairs, where you were planning the library. The books can be moved into the hallway.”
Anton stood there as if he had been struck 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 muffled.
“That’s exactly what I mean, Antosha. You have to economize. And here the air is fresh, we can plant a vegetable garden. I’ve already picked out some seedlings. We won’t be in your way—I’ll cook, I’ll clean. Katya spends all day with her little mushrooms, she has no time to look after the house. But I’m a mother, I’ll help.”
Katya got to her feet. She did not look at her mother-in-law. Her gaze was fixed somewhere through the wall.
“I’m going outside for some air,” she said quietly, heading for the terrace door. “Deal with this yourself.”
Nina Pavlovna watched her go with triumph in her eyes. She ran off, she thought. She’s accepted it.
But Anton did not sit down. The softness in his eyes vanished, replaced by the cold, sober calculation of an engineer who has discovered a critical structural flaw.
“You rented out your apartment without asking me?” he repeated, louder now.
“Why should I ask you?” Nina Pavlovna said, surprised. “You’re my son. The house is yours. That means it’s mine too. We’re one blood. Or are you going to throw your own mother out into the street?”
Masha, sitting nearby, drew her head into her shoulders. She suddenly felt uneasy. She had seen that look on her brother’s face before—when he defended his thesis and the examiners had tried to fail him.
“Mom, come outside,” Anton said. He was not asking. He was ordering.
He took his mother by the elbow, hard, without his usual deference, and led her into the hallway. Masha followed, sensing trouble. The guests exchanged glances, pretending to be engrossed in their salad.
In the hallway Anton released his mother’s arm.
“You made a mistake,” he said, each word clipped and precise. “A huge mistake. Why did you decide you had the right to dispose of my house and my life?”
“Your house!” Nina Pavlovna threw up her hands. “Exactly! You earned it, you bought it! I raised you, I stayed up nights with you, and now there’s no room for me? Has greed eaten you alive, sonny? Or did your wife put you up to this?”
“What does Katya have to do with it?” Anton was losing patience. His voice was growing louder, more resonant. “You solved your financial problems at my expense without even informing me! You came into my house and started imposing your rules, insulting my wife in front of our guests!”
“I told the truth!” Nina Pavlovna shrieked. “She messes around with mushrooms, while this house needs a woman’s hand! And Masha needs to study! You’re obligated to help your sister!”
“I helped when I paid for tutors she never even went to!” Anton barked. “I helped when I gave you money for renovations that never even started! Enough!”
Masha tried to say something, but Anton silenced her with a gesture. He was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring. At that moment the terrace door opened, and Katya came into the hallway. Calm, cold, like an autumn forest.
She stood next to her husband. Not behind him, but shoulder to shoulder.
“Nina Pavlovna,” she said evenly, “I don’t think you fully understand the situation.”
“What is there to understand!” her mother-in-law waved her hand, feeling the ground slipping from under her feet and lashing out again. “Got yourself comfortable here, acting like the mistress of the house. You wrapped Anton around your finger and think that means you can do anything? Anton built this house!”
“Not exactly,” Anton cut in. “Katya and I built this house together. But there’s a detail you forgot to ask about in your fantasies. How much money do you think I contributed to the construction?”
Nina Pavlovna hesitated.
“Well… a lot. You make good money.”
“I invested my savings,” Anton nodded. “But that would only have covered 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 went slack. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving ugly white patches.
“How… her parents?” she whispered.
“That’s right. On paper, the house is registered in Katya’s name. And that half you already imagined yourself and Masha living in”—Anton gestured toward the right wing of the building—“is intended for them. The house has two entrances, Mom. It’s a duplex. In a month Nikolai Petrovich is retiring, and they’re moving here. The furniture in the library you wanted to throw out was bought by my father-in-law. That’s his study.”
Nina Pavlovna gaped for air. Her cozy plan to seize territory collapsed into 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 already have an apartment! Why do they need this place? We need it more! Masha will be left without an education! We already rented out the apartment! People are moving in tomorrow!”
She lunged toward Katya, grabbing her hands.
“Katya! You’re a woman, you understand me! Where are we supposed to go now? Just give us one little room! We’ll be quiet! I’ll make an arrangement with your parents—I’m not a stranger!”
Katya carefully but firmly pulled her hands free. 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 pantry, not in the attic. This is not up for discussion. My parents are selling their apartment so they can live here, near us, help with future grandchildren—not endure communal bickering with you. You called my work nonsense, and you tried to reduce me to household staff in my own home. You respect neither me nor Anton.”
“Anton!” his mother wailed, turning to her son. “Tell her! Are you a man or not?!”
Anton stepped forward, looming over his mother. He was no longer the yielding boy afraid of her shouting.
“I am a man,” he said quietly, terribly. “And that is exactly why I will not let anyone 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 made decisions for us. Now solve your own problems.”
Masha, who had been standing by the wall, suddenly burst out laughing. It was nervous, bitter laughter.
“I told you, Mom! I told you they’d tell us to get lost! But you kept saying, ‘I’ll plant flower beds, I’ll be useful’! What a disgrace!”
“Shut up!” her mother screamed at her, and for the first time there was not anger in her voice, but fear. Real, animal fear of the street.
“Get out,” Katya said. She walked to the front door and threw it open wide. The evening air rushed into the house, sweeping away the stuffy scent of her mother-in-law’s perfume.
“You can’t…” Nina Pavlovna whispered. “We… we already spent the deposit. We don’t have the money to return it to the tenants. They’ll kill us. The man is very… serious.”
“Anton?” she made one last attempt, looking at her son with the eyes of a beaten dog. “Give us money. At least enough to buy off the tenants.”
Anton pulled out his wallet. Nina Pavlovna leaned forward; greedy, sticky hope flared in her eyes.
“No.” Anton put the wallet back. “If I give you money now, you’ll never understand. You’ll come back again. In a month, in a year. You’ll go on thinking everyone owes you. Deal with it yourself. Sell your fur coat. Sell your flowers. Go get a job. I don’t care.”
He picked up Masha’s bag and set it out on the porch.
“Leave.”
Nina Pavlovna stood there another second, unable to believe what was happening. Her world—where she was the center of the universe, where sons were obligated and daughters-in-law had no rights—had collapsed. She looked at Katya with such hatred that it seemed the wallpaper ought to blacken.
“It’s you…” she hissed. “You snake. You turned him against me! Drugged him with your mushrooms! Curse you and your house!”
Katya did not even blink.
“And all the best to you too, Nina Pavlovna. Don’t trip on the steps.”
Her mother-in-law stormed outside, dragging Masha behind her, while the girl muttered something about idiotic plans and now having nowhere to sleep. The door slammed shut.
Anton rested his forehead against the doorframe. His shoulders sagged.
“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’s the best housewarming we could have had.”
They went back to the guests. No one asked anything, although everyone had heard it all. The celebration went on, but it had changed—become more sincere, warmer. As if the air in the house had been cleared by a thunderstorm.
The taxi dropped Nina Pavlovna and Masha off at their old apartment building. Masha sat silently, bent over her phone, looking for hostel options for one night. Her mother, meanwhile, was boiling with rage and fear. She was already inventing a hundred and one reasons why Katya was to blame for everything, why her son was a traitor, why the world was unfair. She climbed to her floor, feverishly trying to think of how she would lie to the tenants. Maybe say a pipe had burst? Or that the roof had collapsed? Anything, just to drive them out and get everything back.
The key would not turn in the lock.
Nina Pavlovna yanked the handle. Locked. She rang the bell.
The door was opened not by the “serious man” she had made the deal with. A hulking brute in sweatpants stood on the threshold, chewing an apple. Behind him, чужие boxes were piled up in the hallway, and her favorite chest of drawers had already been shoved into the entryway.
“What do you want?” he asked, taking a loud bite of the fruit.
“I… I’m the owner!” Nina Pavlovna shrieked. “Open this door immediately! I changed my mind! I’ll give you your money back… later! Move out!”
The brute spat an apple seed onto the floor.
“Old woman, have you lost your mind? Was the contract signed? Signed. Was the money paid? Paid. 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 it’s my apartment!” Nina Pavlovna tried to wedge her foot into the doorway.
The man easily pushed her back onto the landing with one movement of his arm.
“It used to be your apartment. Now it’s ours for a year. The contract says early termination means a penalty triple the rent. Bring me three hundred thousand right now, and we’ll leave. No? Then take a walk.”
The door slammed shut with a heavy metallic clang.
Masha sat on the stairs one floor below, laughing hysterically.
“So, Mom? Where are we going to plant flower beds now? At the train station?”
Nina Pavlovna sank down onto the concrete floor of her own apartment building, clutching a useless bag filled with porcelain figurines. Something crunched inside one of the boxes—apparently the head had snapped off her favorite shepherdess.
She did not feel remorse. She did not think about how underhanded she had been. Only one thought spun in her head: how to get revenge on Katya, because of whom she—a deserving mother and martyr—had ended up on the street. But somewhere deep inside, in that dark corner she was afraid to look into, a cold horror was rising: no one would come to help her anymore.
Her son had grown up. And the door she had tried to kick in today had closed forever.
THE END
