The evening had promised to be quiet. Outside, a fine October drizzle was falling, drumming against the metal window ledge. The apartment smelled of roasted chicken and fresh bread. Nadya sat at the table beside her seven-year-old daughter, checking her math homework. Alisa carefully wrote numbers in her notebook, sometimes wrinkling her forehead in a funny way, exactly like her father. Nadya caught herself thinking that and immediately pushed the thought away. She did not want to remember.
The doorbell rang sharply and insistently. Not once, but in one long, demanding trill that somehow made Nadya’s stomach tighten at once. She looked through the peephole and froze.
Antonina Petrovna was standing on the doorstep. Her former mother-in-law.
The woman was holding a large glossy shopping bag and an umbrella, which she had not even bothered to close in the stairwell, leaving wet streaks on the concrete floor.
Nadya hesitated for a second, then opened the door anyway. Out of simple curiosity. What devil had brought this woman to her home six months after the divorce?
Antonina Petrovna swept into the hallway as if she owned the place. She smelled of expensive perfume with a bitter note and dampness. She quickly looked around the corridor, paused her gaze on the child’s little boots, pressed her lips together, and said:
“Well, hello, Nadezhda. You weren’t expecting me, I suppose.”
“I wasn’t,” Nadya replied dryly, not moving from her spot. “Did something happen?”
Antonina Petrovna sighed heavily, as if preparing to deliver tragic news, and walked into the living room without being invited. She placed the bag on the floor and sat down on the sofa, smoothing her skirt. Alisa lifted her head from her notebook and looked at her grandmother in surprise. In six months, the woman had not called even once.
“Alisa, sweetheart, go to your room,” Nadya asked, trying to keep her voice even. “Grandma and I need to talk.”
The girl obediently gathered her notebooks and left, closing the door tightly behind her. Antonina Petrovna followed her with her eyes and, wasting no time on long introductions, laid a stack of papers on the table.
“I came to you on business, Nadyusha,” she began, almost affectionately. “Forgive me for coming without calling. The situation is such that I simply cannot bear it anymore.”
Nadya remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
“Our Vadik has found himself in a difficult situation. He’s short on money. Kristina, you know, is a young girl, she has needs. She wants this and that. They’re renting a nice apartment. Plus Vadim still has that loan hanging over him, from your time together. He has to pay for the car too. In short, this month he won’t be able to transfer the alimony. You should try to understand.”
Nadya blinked. Slowly, she asked:
“What?”
Antonina Petrovna rolled her eyes as if speaking to a foolish child.
“Why are you saying ‘what’ right away? You’re not deaf. I’m saying there will be no alimony this month. Vadik is going through a difficult period. Kristina needs a fur coat. Winter is coming. And in general, my boy is living with a young wife now, building a new family. They need it more right now. And you are a grown, independent woman. You work. You’ll somehow survive one month without his handouts.”
Something inside Nadya collapsed and immediately boiled up in a hot wave. She looked at this elderly woman with her neat hairstyle and gold earrings and could not believe her ears. Vadim had left her for his mistress. He had abandoned her with a child. For six months she had been carrying her daughter, work, and home alone. And now his mother, who had not helped once, not with money, not with a kind word, had come to ask her to give up alimony for the sake of a fur coat for the new wife?
“Antonina Petrovna, do you hear yourself?” Nadya’s voice sounded muffled, but there was already steel ringing in it. “Your son left for a younger woman? Then go to her for money. Don’t come to me.”
Her mother-in-law flushed. The familiar mask of benevolence slipped off instantly. She leaned forward and almost spat:
“How dare you? I came to you, by the way, as if you were family. I thought you would understand, show some sympathy. But you! You were always cold-hearted, Nadezhda. Vadik was right to leave you. It’s impossible to talk to you. Snake!”
“Have you said everything?” Nadya nodded toward the door. “Then leave. And take your papers.”
Antonina Petrovna jumped up from the sofa, grabbed her bag, and stormed into the hallway with a crash. At the door, she turned around and threw back:
“You’ll regret this! Do you think I don’t know how to deal with you? You’ll cry yet, girl!”
The slam of the door sounded like a gunshot. Nadya leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Her heart was pounding somewhere in her throat. Alisa quietly came out of the room. She did not ask anything. She simply hugged her mother around the waist and pressed her cheek against her. Nadya stroked her head and whispered:
“Don’t be afraid, bunny. We’ll manage.”
That night Nadya could not fall asleep for a long time. She lay in the dark and remembered. Seven years of married life, which Antonina Petrovna had methodically and consistently turned into a nightmare.
In the first years, everything had been more or less tolerable. Her mother-in-law visited their home often, but at least she warned them beforehand. Then came the calls to Vadim demanding reports on purchases. Antonina Petrovna demanded photos of receipts. She needed to know where Nadya was spending her son’s money.
“She’s robbing you,” the mother-in-law hissed into the phone, and Vadim obediently nodded, forgetting that Nadya worked just as much as he did and contributed no less to the family budget.
When Alisa was born, things only got worse. Antonina Petrovna criticized everything: the feeding method, the diapers, the color of the stroller, the child’s name. She demanded that the girl be named Antonina. Back then Nadya showed her character for the first time and stood her ground to the end. She and Vadim chose the name together. At that time, he could still make independent decisions.
His mother never forgave her. She began to systematically turn her son against his wife.
“Look at her. She let herself go after giving birth. Walking around in an old robe. What did you ever see in her? She used to be fairly pretty.”
“Why is she sitting at home? On maternity leave? As if that’s work. You’re slaving away like a damned man, and she’s painting her nails.”
“She’s cheating on you. Yesterday I saw her talking to some man near the entrance and smiling. She’s definitely cheating.”
Nadya learned about these conversations by accident. Vadim would lose his temper, shout, and then, after cooling down, repeat his mother’s revelations. He believed them himself. Antonina Petrovna knew how to brainwash masterfully.
The final break came in April. Vadim came home late, smelling of another woman’s perfume. Nadya said nothing. A week later, he announced it directly:
“I’ve met someone else. Kristina. We love each other. I’m filing for divorce.”
Nadya had gone numb then. She simply stood in the kitchen, staring at one spot. Vadim shifted from foot to foot and added:
“Mom says we need to separate civilly. Without scandals. You won’t stand in the way of my happiness, will you? Besides, you’re to blame yourself. You couldn’t keep the family together.”
Just like that. Couldn’t keep it together. A month later, they were divorced. They divided the property fairly: he got a new life, she got the old apartment and their daughter.
The morning after her former mother-in-law’s visit, Nadya called the only person she trusted. Veronika, her university friend, worked as a family lawyer. They met in a small café not far from Veronika’s office.
Veronika listened while stirring her cappuccino, her eyebrows rising higher and higher with every minute. When Nadya finished and drew a breath, her friend whistled.
“What a circus. I’ve heard a lot in ten years of practice, but for a mother-in-law to come and ask not to pay child support for a child because of a mistress’s fur coat… that’s a new genre. Art.”
“What should I do?” Nadya asked quietly. “I don’t want any more humiliation. She threatened me. She said she would find a way to deal with me.”
Veronika pushed her cup aside and looked at her friend seriously.
“Remember one simple thing. Antonina Petrovna is nothing to you. A legal nobody. She has no rights to demand anything, no grounds for claims. Your ex-husband is obligated to pay alimony. And only he is. If he doesn’t pay, that’s his debt, not your problem. You are the injured party here. The child has the right to support from both parents. Period.”
“And if he really doesn’t pay?”
Veronika smirked.
“There are several scenarios. First, bailiffs. You open enforcement proceedings, and they freeze his accounts. All of them. Down to the last kopek. Second, penalties. For every day of delay, interest is charged. In six months, the debt can grow several times over. Third, administrative liability. Fourth, criminal liability. If he maliciously evades payment, he can be prosecuted under Article 157 of the Criminal Code. That means compulsory labor and even arrest for up to three months.”
“Criminal liability?” Nadya shook her head in disbelief. “Is that real?”
“Absolutely. I had three such cases last year. All three men ran to the ATM faster than I could finish my morning coffee. Nobody wants a criminal record. Especially people like your Vadim. Mama’s boys look particularly pathetic in handcuffs.”
Nadya fell silent. Yesterday’s scene rose before her eyes again: the mother-in-law with the bag, the papers on the table, the demanding tone. And the final words: “You’ll regret this.”
“I think she’s planning something,” Nadya said. “She didn’t just come for no reason. She was testing the ground. Checking my reaction.”
“Very possible,” Veronika nodded. “That’s why I advise you to get ahead of them. Don’t wait until they invent some new nastiness. Go on the offensive. First, check where Vadim is getting money for his new life. If he pays for a rented apartment, buys fur coats, and drives a car, then he has income. And most likely, he is hiding it.”
“How can that be checked?”
“I’ll help you with that. I know a lawyer. Arkady Viktorovich. A specialist in divorce proceedings. He cracks cases like this like sunflower seeds. Make an appointment with him for a consultation. You’ll spend an hour, but you’ll know your real options.”
Nadya wrote down the phone number and address. When she left the café, the weather outside had already cleared. The clouds had parted, and timid October sunlight was breaking through. Suddenly, she felt a strange lightness. For the first time in a long while, the situation no longer seemed hopeless. She had support. Knowledge. A plan.
Two days later, she was sitting in the lawyer’s spacious office. Arkady Viktorovich turned out to be a dry elderly man wearing glasses with thin gold frames. He spoke briefly, but every word hit the target. Nadya laid out all the documents before him: the court decision on alimony collection, her calculations, correspondence with her ex-husband in which he promised for the hundredth time to “pay next week.”
The lawyer reviewed the papers, made notes in a notebook, and said:
“The picture is clear. Three months of arrears. The principal debt is about two hundred forty thousand. Plus penalties. If we calculate everything correctly, through the court we can recover an amount approaching half a million.”
“He doesn’t have that kind of money. Officially he earns pennies.”
“Officially, yes,” the lawyer adjusted his glasses and, for the first time, allowed himself a faint smile. “But unofficially? We’ll make inquiries. We’ll examine account activity. Even if he receives his salary in cash, traces always remain. Apartment rent costs money. Credit cards, store purchases, car payments. If expenses significantly exceed declared income, that is called unjustified enrichment. Courts dislike such things very much. Questions arise for the tax inspectorate. And then very different problems begin. Not just family problems, but administrative ones.”
“What should I do right now?”
“Right now, observe. Don’t tell anyone anything yet. Let your ex-husband and his mother think you’ve given up and swallowed the insult. We will quietly gather evidence. Request statements. See what kind of girl this Kristina is and what money she lives on.”
Nadya nodded. This advice fully matched what Veronika had said. No rush. Cold calculation.
Leaving the lawyer’s office, she felt an unprecedented surge of determination. At home, Alisa was waiting for her, along with lessons and everyday concerns. But now a new thread had been woven into her usual routine. Thin, but strong, like a steel string. The expectation of retribution.
The next two weeks were spent gathering information. Nadya acted carefully, trying not to reveal her intentions in any way. Vadim called her only once and, in a dry tone, warned her that he had no money yet, but there would definitely be some soon. She did not argue, and this seemed to calm him down.
Antonina Petrovna did not appear either. Apparently, she was reporting to her son about her unsuccessful mission and waiting for the former daughter-in-law to start having hysterics. Nadya remained silent, and that silence deceptively resembled surrender.
Meanwhile, Veronika, through her channels, helped obtain the first information. One evening, when Alisa had already gone to bed, her friend sent a message asking Nadya to call urgently. Nadya dialed the number.
“Are you sitting down?” Veronika’s voice sounded excited. “I found something interesting.”
“Tell me.”
“Remember you told me Kristina was boasting about a new position? Supposedly she got a job as a marketer at a company in the capital?”
“Yes, that happened. Vadim said she earned a lot.”
“Well. She is no marketer. She hasn’t worked at all since March. She quit her last job. Officially, she is unemployed. But over the last six months, she purchased a car. Used, but still not free. And, attention, in August she flew abroad with her girlfriends. For a week. Judging by the photos on social media, which she doesn’t think she needs to hide, she rested quite well there.”
Nadya slowly sank onto a chair. Numbers clicked in her head. Her daughter had asked for new winter boots, and she had counted every kopek. Her ex-husband was giving his mistress trips abroad.
“Where did the money come from?” she whispered.
“Here’s the most interesting part. I pulled a few strings. I won’t go into details, but I managed to find out that Vadim changed jobs six months ago. He got a position at a freight company owned by some distant relative. Officially, he is on minimum wage. But in reality, he receives a very decent amount in cash. That explains the apartment rent in a good district, the trips, and the fur coats.”
“He has another salary, and he’s hiding it from the court,” Nadya said slowly, more to herself than to her friend.
“Exactly. And that is a serious violation. Concealing income in order to avoid paying alimony. Criminal liability is already looming here if the statement is filed correctly. Arkady Viktorovich will be delighted. He loves cases like this.”
Nadya said goodbye and put the phone on the table. The apartment was quiet. Only the refrigerator hummed softly in the kitchen, and somewhere behind the wall the neighbors were watching television. She sat in the dark and looked at the streetlamp outside the window. Yellow light blurred on the wet glass. Something inside her was turning over. Not anger. No. Cold, fierce determination. She was no longer the victim. She was the hunter.
The next day, Nadya met with the lawyer again. On the table before Arkady Viktorovich lay printed photographs from Kristina’s social media: the beach, the pool, a smiling girl with a glass in her hand. Beside them were screenshots of car sale listings linked to the account of her ex-husband’s mistress. And statements that Veronika had somehow managed to obtain.
“This is enough,” the lawyer said briefly. “We file a claim. Alimony arrears, penalties, plus a demand to establish the real amount of income. I’ll prepare the statement in three days. We’ll arrange the hearing no earlier than in a month, so the defendant has less time to prepare. And separately, I advise filing a report with the tax inspectorate. Let them check where an unemployed girl got the money for expensive toys.”
“Will they check?”
“They are obligated to. An anonymous report, but with evidence attached. Well-reasoned. Such things are rarely ignored. Especially now, when control over tax evasion has been tightened.”
Nadya signed the documents and power of attorney, then went outside. It was November. A cold wind drove withered leaves along the sidewalk. She raised the collar of her coat and slowly walked toward the metro. In her bag lay a folder with copies of the claim. There was also a flash drive with photos of Kristina. Vacation pictures where the girl posed against the ocean, and in the background one could see a man’s hand. The hand of her ex-husband, who “couldn’t pay alimony” because he allegedly had no money.
Suddenly, she remembered how Alisa had come down with the flu the previous year. Her temperature had risen almost to forty, and they had to call an ambulance. Vadim was supposedly on a business trip then and did not even call back. Nadya spent the night in the hospital, holding her hot, burning daughter close. And at that time, as it later turned out, he had not been working at all. He had been relaxing with Kristina at a countryside boarding house. His mother later even reproached Nadya: “You can’t even protect your child, yet you call yourself a mother.”
Those memories no longer caused pain. They only cemented her determination more firmly. She would no longer allow these people to trample over her life.
The claim was accepted. The hearing date was set.
Vadim learned about the court case a week before the hearing. Probably, he had received a summons. Nadya expected a call. And it came. In the evening, while she was putting Alisa to bed, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She went into the hallway and brought the phone to her ear.
“Nadya, what are you doing?” Vadim’s voice trembled with indignation. “Have you completely lost your mind? Why did you file a lawsuit?”
“Because you are not paying alimony,” she replied evenly.
“I explained it to you! I have temporary difficulties. One month. Just one month. Is it really so hard to wait?”
“I don’t have your difficulties. I have your daughter, who needs food, clothes, and medicine. Your mother came to my home and asked me to release you from your obligations for the sake of a fur coat for your new woman. Do you think that’s normal?”
There was a pause on the line. Apparently, Antonina Petrovna had not reported the details of her visit to her son.
“Mom didn’t mean it like that. You twisted everything, as always! You always twist everything. It’s impossible to talk to you.”
“Vadim, there is one week left until court. My lawyer has prepared the documents. Your income, your expenses, Kristina’s trips, the car, the vacation abroad. All of it will be presented to the court. If you want to settle this peacefully, pay off the debt in full. With penalties. Before the hearing.”
“Are you threatening me?” he almost shouted. “You, the one who destroyed our marriage, are now trying to destroy my new family? Are you jealous? Jealous that I’m happy and you’re sitting alone in your hole? Do you think if you hurt me, you’ll become happier? You won’t!”
“Before court,” Nadya repeated and hung up.
Her hands were trembling. But her soul was calm. She had done everything correctly. Now the law would speak.
The court hearing took place on Wednesday at two in the afternoon.
The courtroom was small, stuffy, and somewhat shabby. Tall windows, wooden benches, pale green walls. Nadya arrived fifteen minutes before the start with Arkady Viktorovich. The lawyer looked unperturbed, leafed through some papers, and gave final instructions at the same time:
“Speak only when you are asked. Do not respond to provocations. If your mother-in-law or the defendant starts being rude, stay silent. I will speak for you.”
Vadim appeared a minute later. Beside him, holding his arm, walked Antonina Petrovna. Kristina had also deigned to show up. She was dressed as if for a dinner party: a short dress, high heels, bright makeup. The mother-in-law looked Nadya up and down, hissed something through her teeth, and demonstratively sat on the bench at the far end of the room.
The clerk announced the court panel. The judge, a woman of about forty-five with a tired face and sharp eyes, took her seat. The hearing began.
Nadya’s lawyer spoke first. He spoke quietly, but every word carried weight. He laid out the facts. The amount of the principal debt. The dates. The penalties. The calculation of interest. Then he moved on to evidence of concealed income. Statements. Photos from social media. Copies of car sale listings linked to the account of the defendant’s new wife. Evidence of foreign trips.
The judge frowned as she studied the documents.
Then Vadim stood up. His lawyer, a young and clearly inexperienced man, tried to insist that the defendant’s income had not been confirmed, that the car had been bought with money from Kristina’s parents, and that the trip was a gift from a friend. But every argument shattered against follow-up questions. The judge asked:
“Can you provide documentary proof of the source of funds for the purchase of the car? Is there a gift agreement? Receipts?”
Vadim’s lawyer faltered. There were no receipts.
“The information on the defendant’s income,” the judge continued, leafing through the papers, “indicates that his official salary is almost four times lower than his monthly expenses. How do you explain that?”
“The defendant uses savings.” The lawyer’s voice sounded uncertain.
“Savings that are not reflected in any account,” Arkady Viktorovich countered. “I ask that the bank certificate confirming the absence of deposits be added to the case.”
The judge nodded in agreement.
The final straw was Antonina Petrovna’s speech. She asked to speak, and after a moment’s hesitation, the judge allowed it.
“Your Honor,” the mother-in-law began in a sweet, honeyed voice, “this woman ruined my son. She was always greedy and vindictive. All she wants is money. She doesn’t even let him see the child! And my boy simply wants to build a new life. He is young and handsome. He needs freedom. And this one,” she waved her hand toward Nadya, “is draining him dry. I ask you to understand his situation.”
The judge removed her glasses and looked at Antonina Petrovna with a long, heavy stare.
“Madam, are you finished? The court is considering a case of evasion of alimony payments. Your opinion of the plaintiff’s personal qualities has no relevance to the subject of the proceedings. Please sit down.”
Antonina Petrovna turned crimson and wanted to object, but her lawyer whispered something in her ear, and she sat down on the bench with pursed lips. Kristina sat pale and angry. She clearly had not expected such a turn.
The judge announced a short recess and then delivered the ruling.
“The claims are partially granted. The defendant shall pay the alimony arrears in full, as well as penalties for each day of delay. The total amount payable is four hundred eighty-seven thousand rubles. The court also obligates the defendant to provide accurate information about his income and forwards the case materials to the tax inspectorate for review of possible concealed income.”
Vadim’s jaw dropped. He stood there, unable to believe his ears. Kristina grabbed his sleeve and hissed:
“What do you mean, four hundred eighty thousand? You said we would settle everything. You said she wouldn’t dare!”
Antonina Petrovna turned pale as a sheet. She looked at Nadya with such hatred that it seemed the air in the room had grown hot.
Nadya silently gathered her papers, thanked the lawyer, and left the hallway. She did not look back. She knew this was not the end. The real storm was only beginning.
The storm broke out that same evening, but not at Nadya’s place. Somewhere else entirely.
Kristina came home first. She threw her keys onto the cabinet and, without taking off her coat, walked into the living room. Rage was boiling inside her. Four hundred eighty-seven thousand. Plus a tax inspection. Plus the humiliation in court. And for what? To sit in a stuffy courtroom and listen to his mommy babble nonsense about a greedy ex-wife?
Half an hour later, Vadim and Antonina Petrovna entered the apartment. His mother held her son by the arm and was speaking excitedly:
“We’ll file an appeal. This is illegal. I’ll call Semyon Arkadyevich, he’s an old lawyer, he’ll help. Don’t worry, my boy. We’ll deal with them. That snake will still regret it.”
Kristina stood in the living room doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. Her face no longer expressed devotion or love. Only cold irritation.
“Enough,” she said sharply.
Antonina Petrovna stopped short.
“What do you mean, ‘enough’?” she asked, lowering her tone.
“Enough already with all this talk about snakes and appeals. Your son owes almost half a million. Do you understand what kind of amount that is? I don’t have that kind of money. We don’t have that kind of money. Did you hear what the judge said in court? A tax inspection. If they find out where the money for my car and trip came from, I will have big problems. I don’t need fines on top of everything else.”
“Darling,” Antonina Petrovna sang, trying to take control of the situation, “don’t worry so much. We’ll sort everything out. We’ll sell the car, borrow from acquaintances. But the main thing is not to let that scum win. You do love Vadik, don’t you?”
Kristina narrowed her eyes. Something hard flashed in them.
“Love? I love a peaceful life. And your son dragged me into court and made me look like a complete fool. You promised me there would be no problems with the ex-wife. That she was a quiet gray mouse who wouldn’t say a word against anyone. And where is that mouse now? She ground us into dust. And you’re standing here telling me about some appeal.”
Vadim, who had been silent until then, stepped forward.
“Kristina, listen…”
“No, you listen.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You promised me a normal life. Instead, you owe money to your ex-wife, your mother meddles in our affairs, and now the tax office will be digging through my income. I don’t need this. I have a head on my shoulders. And you know what? I am not going to pay your debts. These are your problems. You created them, you deal with them.”
“But we’re a family,” Vadim muttered helplessly.
“A family?” Kristina laughed bitterly. “What family? You can’t even earn enough so your own daughter doesn’t have to count pennies. Do you think I want a husband like that?”
Antonina Petrovna stepped out from behind her son, red patches spreading across her face.
“You ungrateful girl! Vadik and I did so much for you! Paid for the apartment, gave you a car, those stupid resorts! And now you turn up your nose? Do you think you’ll find someone better? Who needs you with that character of yours?”
“Paid for the apartment?” Kristina no longer held herself back. “You spent six months whining that there was no money. We bought the car on credit. And by the way, it’s in my name. And I organized the resort trip myself. Your son only promised to pay back half and never did. So you didn’t give me anything. But you did give me more problems than I can handle.”
She sharply turned around, went to the wardrobe, and pulled out a travel bag.
“That’s it. Conversation over. Vadim, by tomorrow evening I don’t want a trace of you here. I’ll pack your things and put them in the hallway. The apartment is rented, and the contract is in my name. I can’t pay the rent anymore. You can go back to your mommy. I’m going to my parents.”
“Kristina, don’t be stupid,” Vadim turned pale. “We love each other. Let’s just sit down calmly and discuss this.”
“There is nothing to discuss. You’re bankrupt. You have debts and lawsuits. Your mother is a crazy old woman who thinks everyone around her is guilty. And I want to live peacefully. Without hysterics and inspections. Leave.”
Antonina Petrovna grabbed her heart and collapsed into an armchair, but her theatrical gesture touched no one. Kristina silently went into the bedroom and locked the door. Vadim remained standing in the middle of the living room. He looked at the closed door and could not believe everything was falling apart so quickly and so irrevocably.
Antonina Petrovna quietly wailed in the armchair, lamenting the injustice of the world and the black ingratitude of young people. Her son slowly sank onto the sofa and buried his head in his hands. A ringing silence hung in the apartment. The same silence as in court, when the judge had read the ruling.
That same night, lying in the bedroom, Kristina called her mother. The conversation was short but meaningful.
“Mom, come tomorrow morning. Help me pack.”
“What happened?”
“I’m leaving Vadim. He turned out to be empty. Debts, alimony, taxes. I don’t need this.”
“And the apartment? You were renting it.”
“The contract is in my name. I warned the landlady. I’m moving out tomorrow. I’m throwing Vadim out. Let him crawl back to his mommy. She’s the smartest one, let her support him now.”
“And the car?”
“The car is in my name. The loan is too. But I’ll sell it. And in general, Mom, you know what? I deliberately registered all the property in my own name. You taught me that. Vadim is such a fool he didn’t even read what he was signing. So I’m not losing anything.”
“Good girl. That’s right. No need to ruin yourself because of someone else’s stupidity. Come home. Your father will be glad.”
The next day, Vadim returned from work earlier than usual and found his belongings neatly packed into two large bags in the hallway. The apartment keys were not in his pocket. Kristina had taken them in the morning. The bedroom door stood open. Empty hangers dangled forlornly in the wardrobe.
He called Kristina. She rejected the call. He called again. Silence. Then he dialed his mother.
“Mom, she kicked me out.”
Antonina Petrovna, forgetting yesterday’s heart attack, began cursing Kristina with the worst words she knew, then declared:
“You see? I told you. All women are the same. Except mothers. Come home. Your room is just as it was. You’ll stay there for now. Then we’ll think of something. I’ll make those hussies pay. Nadya and that Kristina of yours. They’ll dance to my tune yet.”
Vadim hung up, grabbed the bags, and went out onto the landing. The door slammed behind him with a dull metallic clang. He stood in the semi-dark stairwell and felt the ground slipping out from under his feet. The life that had seemed bright and full of promise just yesterday had now shrunk to two dusty bags in a shabby corridor.
Six months passed.
Nadya stood by the window in her kitchen and looked into the courtyard. Spring was timidly but persistently coming into its own. The snow had melted, exposing last year’s gray grass, but here and there the first dandelions were already breaking through. The sun shone brightly and warmly. Alisa was running around the yard with her friends, laughing loudly and swinging jump ropes.
The money from Vadim arrived two months after the court hearing. First, one part landed in her account, then the second. How he got it, Nadya did not know and did not want to know. Sold something, borrowed from acquaintances, took out a bank loan at a predatory interest rate — it no longer concerned her. The lawyer had done his job. The bailiffs had worked precisely. The alimony for the next month came on the exact day, as if on schedule. There were no more delays.
Antonina Petrovna disappeared from the horizon. Only once did Nadya accidentally see her in a shopping center. Her former mother-in-law was standing at an ATM, nervously pressing buttons and shaking her handbag furiously. She looked older and somehow worn down. Either the dye had faded from her hair, or the wrinkles had become more visible. She raised her head, met Nadya’s eyes, and immediately turned away, pretending not to recognize her. Nadya did not approach. She simply walked past, easily pushing her shopping cart ahead of her.
That evening, Veronika called.
“Can you imagine? Have you heard the news?”
“No. What news?”
“I ran into a mutual acquaintance of ours at court, a clerk from the office. She told me Kristina’s tax inspection ended with a major fine and additional charges. They pinned everything on her: unpaid taxes on income and some violations in declarations. In the end, her parents had to sell their dacha to pay off the debts. That’s how it goes. The good times don’t last forever.”
“I almost feel sorry for her,” Nadya said quietly.
“You shouldn’t. She knew what she was getting into. She knew the man had a child, that he wasn’t paying alimony, and still dragged him around resorts and demanded fur coats. So now let her reap what she sowed. Justice exists.”
Nadya said goodbye and put down the phone.
She poured herself some tea, sat at the table, and absentmindedly flipped through yesterday’s newspaper. The kitchen was quiet. Outside the window, dusk was falling. The doorbell rang.
Nadya flinched. Evening doorbells had recently started causing her a persistent feeling of anxiety. She went to the peephole and froze.
Vadim was standing on the doorstep.
He was alone. Without his mother. Without Kristina. Just a man in a wrinkled jacket, with a gaunt face and three-day stubble. He held some kind of paper bag in his hands. He looked guilty and pleading at the same time.
Nadya opened the door but did not step back into the hallway. She stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance.
“Hello,” Vadim said quietly. “May I come in?”
“Why?”
“To talk. I brought Alisa a gift. A small one. I really want to see her. Please.”
“Alisa is already asleep,” Nadya lied. “What did you want to say?”
Vadim shifted awkwardly and moved the bag from one hand to the other.
“Nadya, I want to come back. I understand everything now. I was a fool. Mom confused me, Kristina used me. I lost my head. But now I realize. You are the only one who truly loved me. Let’s try again. We have a daughter. We’re a family. I’ll change. I swear. I’ll work, I’ll help. Just give me a chance.”
Nadya listened without interrupting. She looked at this man whom she had once loved until she trembled, and felt nothing. Only fatigue. And a slight disgust.
“Vadim, you’re too late,” she said quietly but firmly. “The train has left. You made your choice back then, a year and a half ago. I am not your backup option. I am not the airfield you return to when your wings have been broken. Leave. Leave the gift, I’ll give it to Alisa from you. But don’t come here again.”
She took the bag from his weakened fingers, stepped back, and closed the door.
Behind the door came heavy breathing. Then footsteps. Then silence.
Nadya returned to the kitchen, placed the bag on the windowsill, and picked up her cup of tea again. The tea had almost gone cold.
She took a sip and thought that tomorrow she needed to pay the utility bills, sign her daughter up for dance lessons, and buy new boots for spring. There was a lot to do. Life went on.
And two blocks from her house, in a small bank branch, at that very same time, Antonina Petrovna was standing with a receipt nervously crumpled in her hands. Behind the glass sat a young cashier, patiently waiting while the elderly woman counted wrinkled banknotes.
“You still owe four hundred thirty-two rubles,” the cashier repeated. “This is the next payment on your son’s loan. Will you pay in cash or by card?”
“Cash,” Antonina Petrovna muttered and began rummaging through her wallet.
She took out her last money, placed it in the tray, and grumbled under her breath, but loudly enough to be heard:
“Soon it’ll be pension day. What a life. My son is up to his neck in debt, his ex-wife is a snake in the grass, and that flighty Kristina turned out to be a swindler. Now I’m the only one left to clean it all up. And why? Because decent people can’t give any decent advice. Nothing but malice everywhere.”
The cashier, taking the banknotes, could not help herself and said softly, almost to herself:
“Well, maybe next time he’ll think before leaving his family.”
Antonina Petrovna jerked her head up, ready to burst into an angry tirade, but the cashier had already turned back to the monitor and started tapping on the keys. The line behind the mother-in-law began to grumble dully. The woman grabbed her handbag and, crimson with indignation, headed toward the exit. The bank doors slammed shut behind her, cutting her off from the warmth and light. Outside, the rain was starting again.
