“— I want to move back into my apartment. Pack your things and go back where you came from!” the mother demanded.
“Anya… did she really say that? That we have to move out tomorrow?”
Sergey’s voice was trembling. He stood in the bedroom doorway, staring at his wife in confusion. Anna did not turn around. Her eyes were fixed on the window, where in the courtyard their five-year-old Masha was carefully drawing the outline of a little house on the asphalt with chalk — two windows and a triangular roof.
Cardboard boxes were piled up in the hallway. “Winter clothes,” “Toys,” “Kindergarten” — Anna’s neat handwriting was written across the tape. The same boxes they had unpacked with such joy here just six months ago.
“It’s her apartment,” Anna said quietly. “She believes she has the right.”
Outside, Masha looked up and waved to her mother. Anna smiled back, feeling a lump rise in her throat. The little girl returned to her drawing, adding a sun above the house.
Just six months earlier, their life had been completely different. Anna remembered every detail of that stuffy ground-floor studio — the smell of dampness from the basement, the constant banging of the front door, the windows looking directly out onto the trash bins.
“Daddy, can I sleep a little longer?” Masha rubbed her eyes as she sat on the fold-out sofa.
“Sunshine, Daddy needs to work,” Sergey said guiltily, stroking his daughter’s head. “Why don’t you go to Mommy in the kitchen, and I’ll finish my report really quickly?”
The kitchen was the only place where Sergey could work in the evenings. Wrapped in a blanket, he sat at the tiny table, trying not to tap on the keyboard too loudly. At the same time, Anna was putting Masha to bed in the only room, whispering fairy tales so as not to disturb her husband.
“Mom, why does Liza have her own room and I don’t?” Masha asked one day after coming home from kindergarten.
Anna hadn’t known what to say then. She had simply hugged her daughter and promised that one day, she definitely would.
It was that very evening that Galina Petrovna called.
“Anya, I’ve been thinking,” her mother began without any preface. “I don’t need that much space all by myself. Two rooms, a big kitchen. And you’re suffering there in your little box.”
“Mom, we’re managing,” Anna replied tiredly, hanging wet laundry right above the bed — the only free space in the apartment.
“Don’t argue with me! I’ve decided everything. We’ll swap apartments. Your studio is just right for me — less cleaning, and it’s closer to the store.”
Sergey had doubts. He sat in the kitchen, tapping his fingers nervously on the table.
“Anya, let’s still draw up the paperwork. A property exchange agreement or something like that.”
“Of course we will. Mom wants that herself — she says everything should be fair, for the future. She already made an appointment at the public services center for next week.”
“Well, that’s good. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable without papers.”
The paperwork was handled quickly. Galina Petrovna even insisted they do everything through a notary — “for safety,” as she put it. As she signed the documents, she smiled.
“Now everything is legal. You can feel at ease, and so can I.”
Anna remembered moving day as a holiday. Masha ran around the new apartment, peeking into every corner.
“Mom, Mom! Look, there’s even a balcony here! And the bathroom is big! Can I have that room over there? The one with the yellow wallpaper?”
“Of course, sunshine. That’s your room now.”
That evening, they had dinner for the first time at the big table in the spacious kitchen. Sergey opened a bottle of wine, Masha drank juice from a pretty glass, pretending to be a grown-up. Anna looked at her family and felt it — this was happiness. Everything had finally fallen into place.
The first two weeks flew by in a rush of chores. They painted the walls in Masha’s room a soft pink, replaced the old electrical outlets, and carried Galina Petrovna’s heavy furniture down to the basement.
“Do we really have to throw Grandma’s wardrobe away?” Masha asked, watching as Daddy took apart the old closet.
“It’s too old, sweetheart. We’ll buy a new, beautiful one.”
Galina Petrovna started calling three weeks after the move.
“Anya, the water there is somehow different. The kettle is covered in limescale!”
“Mom, buy some descaling solution. They sell it in any store.”
“Don’t explain things to me! I lived in that apartment for thirty years, and there was never any limescale!”
Anna blamed her mother’s irritability on the difficulties of adjusting. Until Galina Petrovna came “for a visit.”
“My God, what have you done here!” she stood in the middle of the living room, looking around in shock. “Where is my wardrobe? Where is the chest of drawers?”
“Mom, we told you we were going to renovate…”
“Renovate! And you forgot to ask me? My mother bought that wardrobe!”
“But Mom, we live here now,” Sergey pointed out cautiously…
Continued just below in the first comment.
“Anya… did she really say that? That we have to move out tomorrow?
Sergey’s voice was trembling. He stood in the bedroom doorway, looking at his wife in confusion. Anna did not turn around. Her gaze was fixed on the window, where in the courtyard their five-year-old daughter Masha was carefully drawing the outline of a little house on the asphalt with chalk — two windows and a triangular roof.
Cardboard boxes were piled up in the hallway. ‘Winter clothes,’ ‘Toys,’ ‘Kindergarten stuff’ — Anna’s neat handwriting on the tape. The same boxes they had unpacked with such joy here only six months ago.
‘It’s her apartment,’ Anna said quietly. ‘She believes she has the right.’
Outside, Masha looked up and waved at her mother. Anna smiled back, feeling a lump rise in her throat. The little girl returned to her drawing, adding a sun above the house.
Only six months earlier, their life had been completely different. Anna remembered every detail of that stuffy studio apartment on the ground floor — the smell of dampness from the basement, the constant banging of the entrance door, the windows facing directly onto the garbage bins.
‘Daddy, can I sleep a little longer?’ Masha rubbed her eyes, sitting on the fold-out sofa.
‘Sunshine, Daddy needs to work,’ Sergey said guiltily, stroking his daughter’s head. ‘Why don’t you go to Mommy in the kitchen, and I’ll finish this report really quickly.’
The kitchen was the only place where Sergey could work in the evenings. Wrapped in a blanket, he sat at the tiny table, trying not to tap too loudly on the keyboard. Meanwhile Anna was putting Masha to bed in the only room, whispering fairy tales so as not to disturb her husband.
‘Mom, why does Liza have her own room, but I don’t?’ Masha once asked on the way home from kindergarten.
Anna hadn’t known what to say then. She had simply hugged her daughter and promised that one day she definitely would.
It was that very evening that Galina Petrovna called.
‘Anechka, I’ve been thinking,’ her mother began without preamble. ‘I don’t need that much space all by myself. Two rooms, a spacious kitchen. And you’re suffering there in your little box.’
‘Mom, we’re managing,’ Anna replied tiredly, hanging wet laundry right above the bed — the only free space in the apartment.
‘Don’t argue with me! I’ve decided everything. We’re switching apartments. Your studio will suit me just fine — less cleaning, and the store is closer.’
Sergey had doubts. He sat in the kitchen, nervously tapping his fingers on the table.
‘Anya, let’s still draw up the paperwork. An exchange agreement or something like that.’
‘Of course we will. Mom wants that herself — she says everything should be fair, for the future. She’s already made an appointment at the public service center for next week.’
‘Well, that’s good. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable without papers.’
The paperwork went quickly. Galina Petrovna even insisted they do everything through a notary — ‘for safety,’ as she said. Signing the documents, she smiled:
‘Now everything is legal. You’ll feel calmer, and so will I.’
Anna remembered moving day like a holiday. Masha ran around the new apartment, peeking into every corner.
‘Mommy, Mommy! Look, there’s even a balcony here! And the bathroom is big! Can I have that room over there? The one with the yellow wallpaper?’
‘Of course, sunshine. That’s your room now.’
That evening they had dinner for the first time at the large table in the spacious kitchen. Sergey opened a bottle of wine, Masha drank juice from a pretty glass, pretending to be grown-up. Anna looked at her family and felt: this was it, happiness. Everything had finally fallen into place.
The first two weeks flew by in chores. They painted the walls in Masha’s room a soft pink, replaced the old outlets, and carried Galina Petrovna’s heavy furniture down to the basement.
‘Do we really have to throw Grandma’s wardrobe away?’ Masha asked, watching her father dismantle the old cabinet.
‘It’s too old, sweetheart. We’ll buy a new one, a nice one.’
Galina Petrovna started calling three weeks after the move.
‘Anechka, there’s something wrong with the water at your place. The kettle is full of limescale!’
‘Mom, buy some descaling solution. They sell it in every store.’
‘Don’t explain things to me! I lived in that apartment for thirty years, and there was never any limescale!’
Anna blamed her mother’s irritability on the difficulties of adapting. Until Galina Petrovna came ‘to visit.’
‘My God, what have you done here!’ she stood in the middle of the living room, looking around. ‘Where is my wardrobe? Where is the chest of drawers?’
‘Mom, we told you we were going to renovate…’
‘Renovate! And you forgot to ask me? That wardrobe was bought by my mother!’
‘But Mom, we live here now,’ Sergey remarked cautiously.
Galina Petrovna looked at him as though he had said something indecent.
‘You live here? Well, well.’
The turning point came a week later. Anna had come to pick up Masha from her mother’s place and overheard her on the phone.
‘They’ve settled in there as if it were their own home!’ Galina Petrovna hadn’t noticed her daughter in the hallway. ‘They threw out all my furniture, repainted the walls. And here I am like some tenant in this hole…’
Anna froze. A chill ran down her spine. For the first time, she clearly understood: to her mother, this had never been an equal exchange.
The phone call caught them at dinner.
‘Come see me tomorrow. We need to talk,’ Galina Petrovna’s voice was unusually formal.
‘Mom, did something happen?’ Anna asked anxiously.
‘Come. Without the child.’
The next day they were sitting at the old kitchen table in their former studio apartment. Anna absentmindedly ran her finger over a familiar scratch in the tabletop — she and her mother had once drunk tea there with pie. Now that same mother sat across from her, lips pressed into a thin line.
The tea in the cups had gone cold. No one had touched the cookies.
‘I want to go back to my apartment,’ Galina Petrovna began without preamble.
Sergey choked on air. Anna froze.
‘Mom, but we agreed—’
‘We agreed to nothing! I thought I’d live here for a while, get some rest. And you would stay there temporarily. But you got comfortable! Redid everything, threw out my furniture!’
‘Mom, you were the one who said you didn’t need the big apartment,’ Anna tried to keep her voice calm.
‘Who cares what I said!’ Galina Petrovna raised her voice. ‘It’s impossible to live here! The shower leaks, the upstairs neighbors stomp like elephants, the basement stinks! And in general… I feel pushed out! Pushed out of my own life!’
Sergey cleared his throat:
‘Galina Petrovna, but we made everything official. The exchange agreement, the notary… You can’t just demand that we switch back.’
‘Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do!’ her mother jumped up from her chair. ‘Yes, the documents exist. But I’m not a stranger to you! I thought we would settle this like family!’
‘Mom, but you were the one who wanted the documents drawn up…’
‘I wanted what was best! And you took advantage of it! It’s my apartment! Mine! I have the right to live where I want!’
The road back seemed endless. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. On the playground near the building, Masha saw them from the slide.
‘Mommy! Daddy! Look what I can do!’ she squealed happily as she slid down and ran toward them.
Anna scooped her daughter into her arms and held her tightly. Over Masha’s head, she met Sergey’s eyes. The same question was in them: what now?
‘Mom, why are you sad?’ Masha touched her cheek with her small hand.
‘Everything’s fine, sunshine. I’m just tired.’
But nothing was fine. Not at all.
Sunday morning began perfectly. The kitchen smelled of frying syrniki, Masha was intently drawing a new picture for Grandma at the big table, Sergey was fiddling with an outlet in the hallway, whistling something under his breath.
‘Mom, look, I drew Grandma a castle! With a princess!’
‘It’s very beautiful, sweetheart.’
The doorbell rang sharply and insistently.
Galina Petrovna entered without saying hello. She walked into the living room and swept her eyes over the updated interior — light walls, new curtains, children’s drawings in frames.
‘You’ve really settled in,’ she said through clenched teeth.
‘Mom, do you want some coffee? I just made syrniki,’ Anna tried to ease the tension.
‘I don’t need anything. I came to tell you — you’re moving out tomorrow. I’m coming back.’
Sergey appeared in the doorway with a screwdriver in his hand. Masha looked up from her drawing.
‘Grandma!’ she exclaimed happily, but something in the adults’ faces made her fall silent.
‘Mom, we can’t move out tomorrow. Our whole life is here, Masha’s kindergarten is nearby…’
‘That is not your concern! Pack your things and go back where you came from!’
Anna felt something inside her switch. Years of obedience, attempts to please, endless excuses — suddenly none of it mattered anymore.
‘No,’ she said calmly.
‘What do you mean, “no”?’
‘We are not going anywhere. This was your choice, Mom. You proposed the exchange yourself. We believed you, invested our effort and money, created a home here. We are not leaving.’
Galina Petrovna turned red with fury.
‘How dare you! Ungrateful girl! I raised you, I did everything for you!’
‘And I am grateful. But I have my own family now, and I have to protect them.’
‘Traitor!’
The slam of the door echoed through the apartment. Masha pressed herself fearfully against her mother. Sergey came over and wrapped his arms around both of them.
‘Everything will be okay,’ he whispered.
But Anna knew it would never be okay again. At least, not the way it had been before.
After that Sunday, the phone never stopped ringing.
‘Anna, how could you?’ Aunt Lyuda, her mother’s sister, didn’t even say hello. ‘Your mother has been crying for two days! You threw your own mother out of her apartment!’
‘Aunt Lyuda, no one threw anyone out. Mom suggested the exchange herself…’
‘Don’t lie to me! Galina told me everything — how you deceived her, lulled her into a false sense of security!’
Anna hung up. An hour later her cousin called, then her mother’s friend. All of them—
‘Let’s just switch back,’ Sergey said, throwing his phone onto the sofa after yet another call. ‘I can’t listen to this anymore. Every day someone calls and blames us.’
‘Seryozha, no.’
‘But these calls… Your aunt said Galina Petrovna cries every day.’
‘So what? We’re supposed to squeeze back into that studio? Masha is supposed to sleep on a folding cot again? She was the one who proposed the exchange. She was the one who insisted on doing it through a notary, remember? “So everything would be fair” — her words.’
‘Then what do we do?’
‘We live,’ Anna said, sitting down beside her husband and taking his hand. ‘We just keep living. Our documents are in order, the exchange is legal. Yes, it’s morally exhausting, but… Masha is starting school soon. I already enrolled her in the one across the street.’
Sergey was silent for a moment, then sighed heavily.
‘All right. You’re right. We’ll stand our ground. For Masha.’
‘For our family,’ Anna corrected him.
Masha ran into the room with her sketchbook.
‘Mom, Dad, look! I drew our family!’
In the picture were three figures holding hands and a large house with many windows.
‘And where is Grandma?’ Sergey asked cautiously.
‘Grandma lives separately,’ Masha answered simply and ran off to get her pencils.
Children always understand everything, Anna thought. Even the things adults try to hide from them.
That evening, as she tucked her daughter into bed, she kissed the top of her head.
‘Good night, sunshine.’
‘Mom, we’re definitely not moving anywhere, right?’
‘Definitely not, sweetheart. This is our home.’
‘Good. I already told everyone at kindergarten about my room.’
Anna left the nursery and leaned against the wall. Yes, they would stay. No matter what the relatives said, no matter how hard guilt pressed on them. They had boundaries that needed to be protected. For Masha. For their family.
September turned out warm. Anna was walking Masha to school, enjoying the morning sun. The little girl was proudly carrying her new unicorn backpack with notebooks, a pencil case, and a small box with an apple inside.
‘Mom, we really have a real home now, right?’ Masha bounced with every step.
‘Of course, sunshine.’
‘Forever?’
‘Forever.’
They turned the corner, and Anna stopped. Near the entrance of their old studio apartment stood Galina Petrovna with a heavy bag. Her mother lifted her head, and their eyes met for a moment. Galina Petrovna abruptly turned away and hurried toward the door.
‘Mom, is that Grandma?’ Masha tugged at her hand.
‘Yes, sweetheart.’
‘Are we going to go over there?’
‘No. Grandma is busy.’
They walked past. Anna did not look back, though she felt something inside her tighten painfully. A home is not walls or square meters. A home is the boundaries you are capable of protecting. Even from the people closest to you. Especially from the people closest to you.”
