Put your keys on the table. You have nothing else to do in my apartment — said the bride
She woke up on Saturday with a pleasant anticipation. His entire family was supposed to come tonight to discuss the final details of the wedding scheduled for October. Just over a month left before the celebration, and every day brought new troubles and worries.
The girl walked around the apartment, looking at the familiar walls. This two-bedroom apartment in the city center got it from her grandmother two years ago. Grandma Claudia left Yana the most valuable thing — this apartment, where she spent the best years of childhood. Here stood old furniture, which Yana did not dare to change. Every corner held a memory of a loved one.
I met Yegor Yan a year and a half ago at the birthday party of a common acquaintance, Svetka. The tall guy with an open smile came to meet the first, and they talked all evening. Then there was a walk, a movie, a cafe. Egor seemed so reliable, so right. Four months later, he moved in with Jan — he said that it was stupid to rent a room in a common room when his beloved girlfriend has an apartment.
— Yana, what are you thinking? — Egor came out of the bath, wiping his wet hair with a towel.
— Yes, I remembered how we met, — the girl smiled. — Will yours come at seven today?
— Yeah. Mom said she’s bringing sample invitations. I want to show you some options.
Maria Petrovna, Yegor’s mother, for the last months literally lived in their apartment. She came under the offer of helping with the wedding preparations and could stay all day. I walked around the rooms, evaluating the furniture, shaking my head, looking at the wallpaper.
“This is where you would need to re-glue,” said Maria Petrovna, leading her hand along the wall in the hallway. — Do you see? And it’s time to change the linoleum in the kitchen. How old is he ?
«I don’t know, his grandmother still breastfed him,» Yana replied, feeling slightly irritated.
— Well, just a minute. Senior. Egor, when you get married, you will make normal repairs. Nice apartment, in the center. It’s possible to live.
She wrote these remarks on maternal care. In the end, Maria Petrovna really helped — choosing a restaurant, negotiating with the florists, and even helped pick a dress. Yegor’s family received Yana warmly and cordially. Father, Nikolay Sergeyevich, always nodded in approval when he saw a girl, and Yegora’s sister, Anastasia, constantly admired the taste of Yana.
— You arranged the apartment so well! — said Anastasia when she visited. — My husband and I have a cartilage on the outskirts, and you have such ceilings! And what a neighborhood!
She was happy to merge into a big family. The girl’s parents lived in another city, rarely saw each other, and she has long dreamed of such warm family gatherings.
Egor made the proposal exactly a year ago. Brought Jana to the same restaurant they were on their first date, got down on one knee and got a box with a ring.
Continue the story here
Yana woke up on Saturday with a pleasant sense of anticipation. That evening, Egor’s whole family was supposed to come over to discuss the final wedding details. The ceremony was scheduled for October, just a little over a month away, and each day brought new chores and concerns.
She walked through the apartment, glancing at the familiar walls. This two-room apartment in the city center had been left to her by her grandmother two years earlier. Grandma Klavdia had left Yana the most precious thing she owned — this apartment, where Yana had spent the best years of her childhood. The old furniture still stood there, and Yana could never bring herself to replace it. Every corner held memories of someone she had loved dearly.
Yana had met Egor a year and a half earlier at the birthday party of a mutual friend, Svetka. A tall guy with an open smile had come up and introduced himself first, and they had talked all evening. Then came walks, movies, cafés. Egor seemed so dependable, so proper. Four months later, he moved in with Yana — he said it was silly to keep renting a room in a dorm when the woman he loved already had an apartment.
“Yana, what are you daydreaming about?” Egor came out of the bathroom, drying his wet hair with a towel. She had agreed without a second thought. Back then, she had felt she had found her person.
“Oh, nothing, just remembering how we met,” Yana smiled. “Your family is coming at seven today, right?”
“Yeah. Mom said she’d bring samples of the invitations. She wants to show you a few options.”
Maria Petrovna, Egor’s mother, had practically been living in their apartment for the past few months. She came over under the pretext of helping with the wedding preparations and could stay the whole day. She walked from room to room, inspecting the furniture with a critical eye and shaking her head when she looked at the wallpaper.
“This should really be redone,” Maria Petrovna would say, running her hand along the wall in the hallway. “See? And it’s time to replace the linoleum in the kitchen too. How old is it?”
“I don’t know, my grandmother put it in,” Yana would answer, feeling a slight irritation.
“Well, exactly. It’s ancient. Egor, once you’re married, you’ll do a proper renovation. The apartment itself is good, though, right in the center. Perfectly livable.”
Yana brushed those remarks off as motherly concern. After all, Maria Petrovna really had been helping — she chose the restaurant, negotiated with florists, even helped pick out the dress. Egor’s family had welcomed Yana warmly. His father, Nikolai Sergeyevich, always nodded approvingly whenever he saw her, and Egor’s sister, Anastasia, constantly admired Yana’s taste.
“You’ve done such a great job decorating the apartment!” Anastasia would say when she came to visit. “My husband and I live in a cramped Khrushchyovka on the outskirts, and look at your ceilings! And this neighborhood!”
Yana was happy that she had become part of a big family. Her own parents lived in another city, and they rarely saw each other, so she had long dreamed of warm family gatherings like these.
Egor had proposed exactly a year earlier. He took Yana to the same restaurant where they’d had their first date, got down on one knee, and took out a small box with a ring.
“Yana, will you marry me?”
She had said yes without hesitating for a second. She truly believed she had found her person.
That evening, Yana set the table. She bought fruit and cheese, sliced some sausage, and put the kettle on. Maria Petrovna had promised to bring a cake. At seven o’clock, the doorbell rang.
“Good evening, Yanochka!” Maria Petrovna walked into the apartment carrying a large box, followed by Nikolai Sergeyevich and Anastasia.
“Hello, come in,” Yana said, taking their coats and hanging them in the closet.
Everyone settled into the living room. Maria Petrovna pulled out a folder with invitation samples and spread them out on the table.
“Look, Yana. I like these ones, with gold embossing. They look expensive.”
“They’re pretty,” Yana agreed. “These floral ones aren’t bad either.”
“Flowers are too ordinary,” Maria Petrovna cut in. “Gold means status. The guests will immediately understand that this is a serious wedding, and the gifts will match.”
Egor sat beside his mother, silently flipping through the samples. Nikolai Sergeyevich studied the bookshelves, while Anastasia scrolled through her phone.
“All right, I’ll go put the tea on,” Yana said, getting up and heading to the kitchen.
She filled the kettle with water and turned on the stove. The apartment was quiet, except for the muffled voices coming from the living room. Yana took a tray, arranged the cups, and got out the sugar bowl. Then she stepped into the hallway — and froze by the living room door.
“Egor, are you listening to me?” Maria Petrovna’s voice sounded stern and insistent. “After the wedding, you’ll need to persuade Yana to transfer the apartment into your name.”
Yana pressed her back against the wall. Her heart seemed to drop.
“Mom, why would I…” Egor’s voice was uncertain, quiet.
“Why?” Maria Petrovna interrupted. “What if you get divorced? Then what? You’ll be left with nothing. The apartment needs to be in your name. It’s safer that way.”
“Maria is right,” Nikolai Sergeyevich chimed in. “Documents matter. You never know what can happen in life.”
Yana gripped the handle of the tray so hard her knuckles turned white. Her legs wouldn’t obey her, but she forced herself to stand still and keep listening.
“And besides,” Anastasia joined in, mockery clear in her voice, “an apartment in the center is a fortune. It would be stupid to miss a chance like that. Yanka seems simple enough — she’ll transfer it if you ask nicely.”
Maria Petrovna gave an approving hum.
“Exactly. Egor, just be gentler with her until the paperwork is done. More affectionate. More patient. And after that, you can divorce her спокойно enough. We’ll find you a proper bride from a respectable family, not one of those girls who have nothing but their granny’s apartment.”
Yana closed her eyes. Everything blurred. She had lived with this man, built plans with him, dreamed of a family. And it turned out it had all been for square meters. A performance. A well-rehearsed performance.
“All right,” Egor sighed. “I’ll try somehow…”
There it was. He agreed. He had stayed silent the whole time, and then he agreed.
Yana took a deep breath in and out. Her hands were shaking; she almost dropped the tray. She set it down on the hallway table and stood there for two minutes, gathering her strength. A wave of rage rose inside her, but she forced herself to calm down. She had to hold herself together. She couldn’t lose control.
Yana pushed open the living room door and walked in. The conversation stopped instantly. Maria Petrovna turned toward the door and gave her a strained smile.
“Oh, Yanochka! So, what about the tea?”
Yana looked at Egor in silence. He lowered his eyes, crumpling an invitation sample in his hands. Anastasia stared at her phone, pretending nothing had happened. Nikolai Sergeyevich cleared his throat and turned toward the window.
“I heard your conversation,” Yana said in a calm, even voice. “Every word. From beginning to end.”
Maria Petrovna’s face fell. Anastasia went pale and froze. Nikolai Sergeyevich turned sharply, opened his mouth, but said nothing.
“Yana, listen…” Egor began, jumping up from the couch.
“No, you listen,” Yana cut him off. She walked to the table, took the engagement ring off her finger, and placed it in front of Egor. “There will be no wedding. And I’m asking all of you to leave my apartment immediately.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Maria Petrovna snapped. “We were joking! Right, Egor? Tell her! It was just some kind of test of stress tolerance and feelings.”
“Yana, calm down, let’s talk…” Egor reached toward her, but she stepped back.
“Talk?” Yana gave a bitter laugh. “What exactly is there to talk about? About how you were planning to steal my apartment? Or about how your mommy already found you another bride from a respectable family?”
“That’s not what we meant!” Anastasia jumped up from the chair. “You misunderstood!”
“Oh really?” Yana turned to Egor’s sister. “Then how exactly was I supposed to understand the phrase, ‘It would be stupid to miss a chance like that’? Explain it to me.”
Anastasia opened her mouth, but said nothing.
“That’s enough,” Yana said, pointing at the door. “Get out. Now.”
Maria Petrovna jumped up and grabbed her purse.
“Well then, stay alone! Do you think you’ll find grooms like this on every corner?”
“I don’t need grooms like that,” Yana replied coldly. “Will you leave on your own, or should I call the police?”
Nikolai Sergeyevich was the first to head for the exit. Anastasia followed him. At the threshold, Maria Petrovna stopped and turned around.
“You’ll regret this. No one needs your little apartment. And no one needs you either.”
“Goodbye,” Yana said, throwing the door open.
Egor’s family went out into the stairwell. Egor stayed behind. He stood in the middle of the living room, looking at Yana in confusion.
“Yana, please, let’s talk…”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
Yana went into the bedroom, took a large bag out of the closet, and started packing Egor’s things — jeans, T-shirts, hoodies.
“What are you doing?” Egor followed her.
“Packing your things. You’re moving out.”
“Yana, wait! I love you! Really! My mother just… she’s like that, you know! She’s always meddling where she doesn’t belong!”
“Then why didn’t you tell her she was wrong?” Yana turned around, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why were you silent? Why did you agree to try?”
“I didn’t agree!” Egor protested. “I just… I didn’t want to argue with my mother!”
“But arguing with me is no problem, right?”
“Yana, please, understand…”
“I understand everything,” Yana said, turning back to the bag, stuffing the last hoodie into it and zipping it shut. “You’re a weak man. You can’t stand up to your mother. And you were ready to betray me just to keep her happy.”
“That’s not true!”
“That’s exactly true. Take the bag and leave.”
“I have nowhere to go!” Egor clutched his head. “It’s late already, it’s night outside!”
“That’s not my problem,” Yana replied indifferently. “Your parents have an apartment. Go to them.”
“Yana, enough!” Egor tried to hug her, but she jerked away sharply.
“Don’t touch me. And give me the keys.”
“What keys?”
“The keys to my apartment. The ones I gave you when you moved in.”
“Are you serious?”
Yana held out her hand.
“Put the keys on the table. You have nothing more to do in my apartment.”
Egor flushed dark red. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulled out the keyring, and threw it onto the coffee table.
“You’ll regret this!” he shouted. “You’ll end up alone in this shabby apartment of yours!”
“Get out,” Yana said, lifting the bag and holding it out to him.
Egor snatched the bag, turned, and stormed out, slamming the door loudly behind him.
Yana walked to the door, locked it, and put the chain on. She leaned her forehead against the cool wood and closed her eyes.
Silence. The apartment was quiet and empty.
Yana returned to the living room and sank onto the couch. The ring lay on the table, next to the invitation samples that would never be needed now. She picked up the ring and turned it in her hands. Beautiful. Expensive. A lie.
The tears rose in her throat, and this time she didn’t hold them back. She cried quietly, soundlessly — from pain, from hurt, from relief. A year and a half of her life had been crossed out. Her plans had collapsed. The wedding was off. But she had saved herself. Her dignity. And her grandmother’s apartment, which meant more to her than any man ever could.
Yana wiped away her tears, stood up, and started clearing the table. She threw the invitations in the trash, poured out the tea, washed the dishes. Then she took out her phone and wrote in the group chat with her friends: “Girls, the wedding is off. I’ll tell you everything when we meet.”
Her phone immediately exploded with messages and calls, but Yana muted it and set it on the bedside table. Right now, she wanted silence. She wanted to be alone and process everything that had happened.
A few days later, Yana got a message from Egor. He wrote that he missed her, that he loved her, that his mother had been wrong, but that he was ready to fight with her for Yana’s sake. Yana deleted the message without replying. Then another came. And another. She blocked his number.
Maria Petrovna tried calling about two weeks later. She said something about how Egor was falling apart, that Yana should forgive him, that all families fight and then make up. Yana listened calmly and hung up. Maria Petrovna never called again.
Yana’s friends supported her as best they could. They came over with cake and wine, held girls’ nights right there in the apartment. Svetka, the very friend at whose birthday party Yana had met Egor, apologized guiltily:
“I’m sorry I introduced you to that… I had no idea he was like this!”
“It’s okay,” Yana smiled. “Better to find out now than after the wedding.”
“You did the right thing throwing him out,” said another friend, Vika. “I wouldn’t have been able to be that decisive.”
“You would have,” Yana replied. “When you realize someone is using you, the strength comes on its own.”
Autumn passed quickly. Yana decided to freshen up the apartment a little — not for anyone else, but for herself. She redid the wallpaper in the hallway and changed the curtains in the bedroom. She kept her grandmother’s old furniture — it was too dear to her as a memory.
One day in November, when Yana was coming back from the store, she ran into Egor near the entrance to the building. He looked tired and worn down.
“Hi,” he said uncertainly.
“Hi,” Yana answered and tried to walk past him.
“Wait,” Egor blocked her way. “Let’s talk. Please.”
“What is there to talk about, Egor?”
“I miss you. Really. I realized I made a mistake. I fought with my mother because of you. I told her she was wrong.”
“Good for you,” Yana nodded. “I’m very happy for you.”
“Yana, let’s start over. I’ve changed. Honestly.”
Yana looked at him calmly and steadily.
“Egor, you haven’t changed. You just realized you lost the apartment. If you had really loved me, you would have protected me from your family back then, in the living room. But you stayed silent. And that says everything.”
“Yana…”
“Goodbye, Egor. I wish you happiness.”
She walked around him and went into the building. She climbed to her floor and opened the apartment door. Kicking off her boots, Yana went into the kitchen, set the grocery bags on the table, and turned on the kettle. Outside the window, snow was falling — the first of the year.
Her phone vibrated — a message from Svetka: “Yanka, are we going to the movies tomorrow? That new film is out, everyone says it’s great.”
Yana smiled and typed back: “Let’s go. What time?”
Life went on. Without Egor, without his family, without lies and betrayal. Yana regretted nothing. She had saved herself and her apartment. And that was enough to move forward.
