“Yegor told me that you’re planning to expand the family. And as a mother, I can’t help but be happy about that. But I’m very concerned about the legal side of the matter. You live together, you’re planning a child, and yet the apartment is registered only in your name. That, Verochka, is wrong and unfair to my son.”
Vera had always been one of those women people commonly call “workhorses.” The phrase sounded somewhat crude, but it described the essence of her life over the past ten years better than anything else. Her position as head of the regional sales department at a large wholesale company had not come to her through connections or a lucky turn of events.
Vera had clawed her way up the career ladder through stubborn, backbreaking labor, sleepless nights, endless business trips, and the ability to conduct tough negotiations with even the most difficult suppliers. At thirty-two, she had achieved what many only dreamed of: a consistently high income, the respect of management, and complete financial independence.
Her common-law husband, Yegor, was a completely different kind of person. They had met about three years earlier at the birthday party of a mutual acquaintance. Back then, Yegor had charmed Vera with his easygoing manner, his ability to tell funny stories, and a certain childlike spontaneity. Against the backdrop of Vera, who was always tense and buried in reports, he seemed like a breath of fresh air.
But over time, that lightness turned into ordinary irresponsibility and domestic laziness. Yegor worked as a middle manager and earned a modest salary, just enough for his personal expenses, nights out at bars with friends, and upgrading parts for his computer. All the major financial burdens of their life together — rent, groceries, utilities, vacations — quietly but firmly fell onto Vera’s shoulders.
Yegor was more than comfortable with this arrangement. He lived with everything provided for him, sincerely believing that his presence in Vera’s life was, in itself, sufficient reward for all her efforts. At the same time, he regularly brought up the idea of a proper family.
“Ver, when are we finally going to stop dragging this out?” he would often say, sprawled on the sofa with a game controller in his hands while Vera cooked dinner after a hard day at work. “It’s time to start thinking about heirs. My friends are already having their second children, and we’re still living like students. I want a child. I want a little toddler running around the house.”
Vera, flipping cutlets in the frying pan, would only sigh heavily. Her position on the matter was rock solid.
“Yegor, we’ll come back to this conversation only after we’re officially married and have a home of our own,” she repeated time after time. “I’m not going to have a child in a rented apartment with uncertain prospects. Children need stability.”
Whenever marriage and buying a home were mentioned, Yegor’s enthusiasm usually faded. He would mutter something about a stamp in the passport changing nothing, that feelings were what mattered, and that a mortgage was lifelong bondage he was absolutely not ready to get into.
Vera did not argue. She simply set herself a goal. For the next year and a half, she lived in a state of strict economy. She took on extra projects, optimized the work of her department so she could earn the highest possible quarterly bonuses, and saved every spare kopeck.
And that day finally came. Vera bought a spacious, bright two-room apartment in a good neighborhood. The deal was registered solely in her name; every last kopeck had been earned by her personally. Yegor did not participate in the purchase process, claiming that he understood nothing about documents and that, in general, all that fuss with realtors stressed him out.
For Vera, the move was a real celebration. She lovingly chose every piece of furniture, every curtain, and every light fixture. Yegor simply moved his things in, settled comfortably into the new armchair in front of the television, and declared that now there were definitely no obstacles left to having a child. They had a home, there was plenty of space, and it was time to act.
He tactfully chose not to mention that they were still not married. Vera was waiting for a proposal. She believed that buying the apartment would be the very push Yegor needed to take responsibility and become a real head of the family. But time passed, and there was still no ring.
Instead, Yegor’s mother, Yulia Vitalyevna, began appearing in their new apartment more and more often. She was a domineering woman, used to controlling everything and firmly convinced that her son deserved only the best treatment. From the very beginning, Yulia Vitalyevna had treated Vera with cool condescension, but after the apartment purchase, her behavior changed sharply. She began acting as though the home had been bought with common family funds and Vera herself had merely performed the function of a successful investor.
On that ill-fated evening, Vera came home later than usual. At work, they had been closing a difficult quarter, and she was exhausted to the limit, dreaming only of a hot shower and silence. But as soon as she crossed the threshold, she heard lively voices coming from the kitchen. There, at the set table, sat Yegor and his mother. In front of them stood the tea set Vera had been saving for special occasions.
“And here is the mistress of the house,” Yulia Vitalyevna said with feigned delight, turning toward Vera. “Come in, Verochka, sit with us. We need to have a serious talk.”
Vera felt a dull irritation begin to rise inside her. She silently washed her hands, poured herself a glass of water, and sat down on the edge of a chair, making it clear with her whole demeanor that she was not in the mood for long conversations.
“What exactly do we need to talk about, Yulia Vitalyevna?” she asked wearily.
“About your future, my dear,” her mother-in-law smiled sweetly, though her eyes remained cold and sharp. “Yegor told me that you’re planning to expand the family. And as a mother, I can’t help but be happy about that. But I’m very concerned about the legal side of the matter. You live together, you’re planning a child, and yet the apartment is registered only in your name. That, Verochka, is wrong and unfair to my son.”
Vera choked on her water. She shifted her disbelieving gaze to Yegor, but he carefully avoided her eyes, studying the patterns on the tablecloth.
“Unfair?” Vera repeated, trying to remain calm. “What exactly is unfair about it?”
“Well, how can you ask!” Yulia Vitalyevna threw up her hands. “You lived together for a whole year and a half before you bought this property. You ran a household together! Yegor supported you morally, created comfort, bought groceries… sometimes. You were a family! By every human law, and by conscience too, this is jointly acquired property.”
“Yulia Vitalyevna,” Vera’s voice turned metallic, “I worked like a cursed woman fourteen hours a day. I didn’t take a vacation for two years. I denied myself new clothes so I could save up for the down payment and pay off the mortgage early. Yegor did not invest a single ruble in this apartment. What jointly acquired property are you talking about?”
“Oh, don’t exaggerate!” Yegor’s mother waved her off. “It is always easier for a woman to save money when she has a reliable man’s shoulder beside her. If Yegor had not provided you with a secure rear, you would never have achieved anything. So it would be fair for you to transfer half the apartment to him. Gift him a share. That would be proof of your sincere feelings. Otherwise, how can he be sure of tomorrow? How can he have children with a woman who could throw him out the door at any moment?”
Vera could not believe her ears. She looked at Yegor again, expecting him to step in, put his mother in her place, and say that this was absurd. But Yegor merely coughed and muttered:
“Ver, well, Mom is right about some things… We’re family. Everything should be shared between us. Otherwise, it turns out I’m living here on sufferance. It puts psychological pressure on me.”
At that moment, something inside Vera snapped like a tightly stretched string. All her exhaustion, all the disappointments that had built up over the years, all the pain of realizing she was simply being shamelessly used burst out. She abruptly rose from the table, and the chair flew backward with a crash.
“I bought this apartment with my own money, and your mother has nothing to do with it!” Vera pronounced, enunciating every word. Her voice trembled with restrained fury. “And you, Yegor, have nothing to do with it either! There was no ‘we’ in the purchase of this home. There was my labor and your laziness! And if you feel disadvantaged, the exit is right where the entrance is!”
“How dare you speak to my son like that?!” Yulia Vitalyevna shrieked, jumping to her feet. “Mercenary, greedy girl! Who even needs you with your apartment? He wasted the best years of his life on you!”
But Vera was no longer listening. She could not breathe. It seemed to her that the walls of her new, long-desired apartment had suddenly become dirty and sticky from these conversations. She rushed into the hallway, threw a light coat over her work clothes, grabbed her handbag, and, ignoring her mother-in-law’s shouting, flew out the door.
She walked down the street without noticing where she was going. Resentment churned in her chest. The tears she had held back for so long finally broke through the dam and rolled down her cheeks, smearing her makeup. She felt unbearably sorry for herself, sorry for the wasted time, sorry for her illusions. How could she have been so blind? How could she have hoped that Yegor would ever change? He was simply a convenient parasite, and his mother was a greedy manipulator who had decided to secure her precious son’s future at someone else’s expense.
Vera did not notice how she wandered into an unfamiliar neighborhood. Ahead, the sign of a cozy café glowed above large panoramic windows. Deciding that she needed to sit down and drink something strong — or at least some sweet tea — to calm her nerves, she pushed open the heavy glass door.
Her eyes were clouded with tears, and everything before her blurred. She stepped inside and immediately crashed hard into someone tall and solid. The impact was so unexpected that Vera’s handbag slipped from her hands, spilling her keys, lipstick, phone, and several receipts across the floor.
“Oh, forgive me, for God’s sake!” a deep, pleasant male voice sounded above her. Strong hands instantly caught her by the shoulders, preventing her from falling. “Are you hurt? I didn’t see you at all. I was staring at my phone.”
Vera blinked, trying to wipe away her tears, and raised her head. Standing in front of her was a man of about thirty-five. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with intelligent brown eyes and neat light stubble. He wore a stylish blazer over a simple turtleneck. His gaze showed genuine concern.
“No… no, you should forgive me,” Vera sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “I just… I couldn’t see anything.”
The man quickly dropped to one knee and began gathering Vera’s scattered belongings. He moved carefully, without fuss. Handing her the purse, he looked attentively at her tear-stained face.
“Has something happened to you?” he asked gently. “I understand we don’t know each other. My name is Alexey. Let me make up for bumping into you. Let me treat you to dinner, or at least a cup of tea. You look like you urgently need to catch your breath.”
Normally, Vera would never have agreed to such offers. She was a reserved person and preferred to endure her problems alone. But now, hearing so much genuine care in the voice of a complete stranger, she suddenly broke completely. Unexpectedly even to herself, Vera burst into tears right in front of Alexey. She cried bitterly, sobbing, her whole body trembling.
Alexey was not frightened by a woman’s hysteria. He did not awkwardly look away or mutter empty phrases. He gently took Vera by the elbow and led her to the farthest, most secluded table in the corner of the café. After seating her on a soft sofa, he handed her a clean paper napkin and ordered from the waiter a large pot of calming herbal tea with chamomile and thyme, as well as a slice of the most chocolatey cake on the menu.
“Cry,” he said simply, sitting across from her. “Sometimes that’s the best thing you can do. I won’t ask questions if you don’t want to talk. I’ll just sit here with you.”
And Vera, wiping her face with the napkin, suddenly began to speak. The words poured out of her. She told this stranger Alexey everything: about her backbreaking job, about irresponsible Yegor, about the apartment she had suffered so much to earn, and about the shameless mother demanding half of her property. She spoke haltingly, jumping from one thing to another, but Alexey listened very carefully, without interrupting, only occasionally nodding and pouring her more hot tea.
When Vera finished her monologue, she felt surprisingly light. As though an enormous stone she had been carrying around her neck for the past year and a half had suddenly fallen to the floor.
“You know, Vera,” Alexey said when she had calmed down and taken a sip of tea, “you give the impression of a very intelligent and strong woman. And the fact that you managed to achieve such results on your own commands enormous respect. But strong people are often taken advantage of by those who don’t want to make any effort themselves. Your young man… he simply found a convenient harbor. And his mother decided to legalize that harbor. You did the right thing by leaving. The main thing now is not to return to the old pattern.”
They talked for more than two hours. It turned out that Alexey worked as an industrial designer, creating ergonomic furniture for complex spaces. He proved to be an incredibly interesting conversationalist — well-read, tactful, and with a subtle sense of humor. For the first time in a long while, Vera found it so easy to talk to a man. There was not a drop of egoism in him, nor any desire to assert himself at her expense.
When they left the café, Alexey offered to walk her home. They exchanged phone numbers. Saying goodbye at the entrance to her building, Vera felt like a completely different person. The crushed, tearful woman no longer existed.
Returning to the apartment, Vera discovered that Yulia Vitalyevna was already gone. Yegor was lying on the bed, watching videos on his phone. When he saw Vera, he did not even sit up.
“So, have you cooled down?” he threw out with mild irritation. “Ver, you overreacted too. Mom is just worried about our future. You could have been softer. We’re family.”
Vera looked at him as though she were seeing him for the first time. How could she have lived so long with this infantile, lazy consumer? How striking the contrast was between Yegor and Alexey — a man who, in two hours, had shown her more respect and care than her common-law husband had in two years.
“We are not family, Yegor,” Vera replied calmly, without a trace of emotion, walking into the bedroom and taking a large sports bag from the top shelf of the wardrobe. “We are just two people who temporarily lived together. My time is up. Pack your things.”
Yegor put down his phone, and his face stretched in shock. He had not expected this turn of events. He had been sure that Vera, as usual, would grumble, swallow the insult, and everything would go back to the way it had been. After all, she loved him. She was a woman; she needed a family!
“Have you lost your mind?” he protested, sitting up on the bed. “Where am I supposed to go at this hour?”
“Anywhere. To your mother, to your friends, to a hotel. I don’t care. I’m giving you exactly one hour to pack the essentials. You can come for the rest tomorrow when I’m not home. Leave the keys in the mailbox.”
Realizing that Vera was not joking, Yegor switched from persuasion to aggression. His face flushed, he jumped up and began waving his arms.
“Oh, is that so?! You’ve decided to throw me out?! Well, no way! You won’t get rid of me that easily! We lived together! I bought groceries, I fixed the outlets here! I have every right to this apartment! I’ll hire a lawyer. I’ll sue you for half! Mom was right — you’re just a bitch who used me and is now throwing me out onto the street!”
Vera laughed. The laugh was sincere and ringing. Yegor’s threats sounded so ridiculous and absurd that they did not even make her angry.
“Sue me?” she asked through her laughter. “Under what law, my household lawyer? We are not legally married. The apartment was bought entirely with my own funds, and all bank transfers came from my personal account. Your grocery purchases and one repaired outlet are not a contribution to real estate. Go to court, Yegor. Entertain the judges. And now — pack your things. The clock is ticking.”
Realizing the full stupidity and groundlessness of his threats, Yegor deflated. He understood that manipulation no longer worked, and he had no real leverage. Muttering curses under his breath and complaining about women’s mercenary nature, he carelessly threw his things into a bag and slammed the door behind him with a loud bang.
Silence settled over the apartment. Real, healing silence. Vera walked through the rooms, breathing deeply. She felt neither sad nor lonely. She felt only colossal relief. As though she had been trudging through a swamp in heavy boots for a long time and had finally reached solid ground and thrown off her burden.
The next day, she changed the locks on the apartment. A week later, Yegor picked up the rest of his things and moved in with his mother, who, according to rumors, tormented everyone she knew with stories about the treacherous daughter-in-law who had deceived her trusting boy. But Vera no longer cared.
Alexey appeared in her life. They began communicating every day. At first, it was just messages and brief coffee meetings during lunch breaks. Then Alexey invited her to an exhibition of contemporary art, and afterward they went out of town for the weekend. Their relationship developed quickly, yet at the same time incredibly naturally and harmoniously.
For the first time, Vera felt what it meant to be with a man who was like a stone wall behind her. Alexey demanded nothing, did not manipulate, and did not try to remake her to suit himself. He was simply there, helping, supporting, and sincerely admiring her. When Vera faced a serious crisis with suppliers at work, Alexey came to her office with a hot dinner and sat in the reception area until she finished the negotiations.
Three months after that memorable evening in the café, Vera stood in her apartment among packed boxes. Alexey had convinced her to move in with him. Vera decided to rent out her own two-room apartment — extra passive income never hurt anyone.
Alexey entered the room, picked up the heaviest box, and looked at Vera with a smile.
“So, are you ready for a new stage?” he asked, kissing her temple.
“More than ready,” Vera answered, embracing him.
She looked around the empty room. There were no more disappointments here, no one else’s expectations, no oppressive obligations. Vera had forever removed the yoke of being a “workhorse” from her shoulders, deciding that from now on, there would be room in her life only for true love, respect, and shared happiness. And she knew with certainty that she had made the right choice.
