“Better button that lip of yours, Galina Ivanovna, before it starts flapping against your knees.”
Vera stood in the middle of the hallway, still wearing her coat, feeling the dull ache of exhaustion in her lower back. The workweek had been insane, her shift at the warehouse had run late, and the only thing she wanted now was to take off her shoes and lie down.
But lying down was impossible.
Her mother-in-law was standing right in the living room of Vera’s late grandmother’s apartment—the place where Vera and Kostik had temporarily moved while their mortgaged one-bedroom apartment was being renovated.
Galina Ivanovna was not merely standing there. She had already kicked off her shoes in the middle of the entryway rug, carelessly tossed her raincoat onto the bench, and was now surveying the old floral wallpaper as though she owned the place.
Kostik hovered behind her.
Vera’s husband shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, avoiding her eyes and making a determined effort to look as though none of this had anything to do with him. As though he had simply been passing by and his mother had materialized out of thin air.
“Is that any way to speak to your mother?”
Galina Ivanovna spun around sharply. Somehow, a proper construction tape measure had already appeared in her hands.
“I came here with the best intentions. I came to help, and she’s being rude to me!”
Vera leaned her shoulder wearily against the doorframe. She did not have the energy for an argument, but she had no intention of remaining silent either.
“Help with what?”
Her mother-in-law looked genuinely offended and theatrically pressed her free hand to her chest.
“What do you mean, with what? Getting the apartment in order!”
She swept her hand around the living room as though presenting evidence before a committee.
“Your grandmother has been gone for two months now. May she rest in peace, of course. But the apartment is sitting empty! The utility bills keep coming, and dust is piling up. I told Kostya we needed to take matters into our own hands while you were still sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.”
Vera turned a heavy gaze toward her husband.
“Kostya?”
He flinched.
“Did you come here to take matters into your own hands too?”
Kostik twitched one shoulder and stared intently at the old glass-fronted cabinet filled with crystalware.
“Vera, what’s the big deal?”
He tried to smile, but the result was pathetic.
“Mom’s right. Why let a perfectly good apartment go to waste? Yulia’s husband lost his job, and they can’t afford their rent. Mom suggested letting them live here. You know, as family.”
Vera squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
Yulia was Kostik’s younger sister. The same Yulia who had shown up at their wedding wearing a white dress and had spent the next two years borrowing money from them without ever paying it back.
And her husband, the eternally self-searching genius, had not lost his job. He had simply never made much effort to find one.
“Let Yulia move in? Here?”
Vera opened her eyes and gave a humorless smile.
“And I assume they won’t be paying anything?”
“What kind of accounting is there between family members?”
Galina Ivanovna waved her hands as though swatting away an annoying fly.
“We’re family! We help them today, and they help us tomorrow. Vera dear, you never think about the future. You live one day at a time. I, on the other hand, have worked everything out.”
Her mother-in-law marched purposefully toward the window, straightened the old lace curtain, and looked down into the courtyard. The autumn sun illuminated the peeling benches near the entrance.
“It’s a quiet courtyard, and there’s a kindergarten nearby. It’s perfect for Yulia and the baby. And yes, this place hasn’t been renovated since the dawn of time, but we’ll fix that. We’ll replace the wallpaper and throw out all this junky old furniture. I’ve already made some plans.”
She pulled the metal tape from the measuring tool and pressed it against the wall beside the sofa.
“Galina Ivanovna, haven’t you forgotten something?”
Vera pushed herself away from the doorframe, finally removed her coat, and tossed it on top of her mother-in-law’s raincoat.
“This was my grandmother’s apartment. She left it to me in her will. It belongs entirely and exclusively to me. What does Yulia have to do with it? What does your renovation have to do with it? And what do you have to do with it?”
Her mother-in-law released the tape. The metal strip snapped loudly back into its casing. Ugly red blotches spread across Galina Ivanovna’s face.
“You always take everything as a personal attack, Vera!”
She stepped toward her daughter-in-law, looming over her with the full force of her considerable size.
“Yours, not yours—what difference does that make? Are you married or not? Kostya is your lawful husband. That means the property has come into the family. And in a family, people share. Do you really begrudge your own sister-in-law one little corner? Your heart isn’t made of stone.”
“It is.”
Vera said it so simply and matter-of-factly that Galina Ivanovna faltered.
“And yes, I begrudge her the corner. Yulia will not be moving in here.”
The room fell silent. Only the muffled murmur of the neighbors’ television could be heard through the wall.
“So that’s how it is!”
Her mother-in-law clasped her fingers over her stomach.
“When it comes to spending Kostya’s salary, you’re always happy enough! But the moment the family needs help, you run for cover?”
Vera laughed, bitterly and abruptly.
“Kostya’s salary? Galina Ivanovna, your son has been earning next to nothing for the past six months because he was asked to leave his previous job after constantly turning up late. We are paying the mortgage on our one-bedroom apartment with my salary.”
“Vera, why do you have to start this?”
Kostik hunched his shoulders guiltily, trying to make himself appear smaller than he was.
“Mom, come on, let’s just go home. I told you she’d dig her heels in. There’s no point.”
“Be quiet!”
Galina Ivanovna barked at her son so fiercely that he pulled his head down between his shoulders.
“You’ve spoiled your wife, and now she’s climbed right onto your neck! You should have taught her some discipline while she was still young.”
Her mother-in-law marched decisively toward the hallway.
For a moment, Vera actually exhaled, thinking the argument was over and that the woman was finally going to leave. Angry or offended, it did not matter—as long as she left.
But Galina Ivanovna stopped beside the small cabinet under the mirror.
A spare set of apartment keys lay on top of it. Vera had prepared them the previous evening and deliberately left them in plain sight.
Her mother-in-law swept the keys into her fist and shoved them into the deep pocket of her oversized knitted cardigan.
“Here is what’s going to happen.”
She stared directly at Vera. Her voice took on the commanding tone she used whenever she wanted to order the entire family around.
“I am not going to argue with you. You are young, foolish, and know nothing about life. This apartment is going to serve the family. Tomorrow, I’ll bring some workmen over to inspect the pipes in the bathroom. Then I’ll call Yulia and tell her to start packing.”
She adjusted the collar of her sweater.
“And if you don’t like it, you can go and stay with your own mother. Kostya, pick up the bags. We’re leaving.”
Vera stared at her mother-in-law, trying to understand how one person could contain such an absurd, reinforced-concrete level of audacity.
Galina Ivanovna genuinely believed that she had the right to control someone else’s home simply because she existed and held the title of “the husband’s mother.”
Anger surged through Vera, making her temples throb.
“Put the keys back.”
She stepped forward, blocking the path to the front door.
“As if I would!”
Galina Ivanovna curled her lips contemptuously.
“Get out of my way. Tomorrow, you’ll come back and help us carry all this junk to the trash.”
At that exact moment, a key turned with a metallic clatter in the lock on the other side of the front door.
Vera had not locked the door from the inside when she entered, and now someone outside was confidently opening it.
Galina Ivanovna froze. Kostik craned his neck, trying to see who had arrived.
Vera took half a step backward.
The door swung open.
An enormous figure squeezed through the doorway. The man was so large that the cramped entrance hall of the old Soviet-era apartment instantly seemed to run out of space. His head was shaved, his shoulders were extraordinarily broad beneath his tracksuit jacket, and his nose had the unmistakable shape of one that had been broken before.
A second man appeared behind him, equally massive, except that he had a thick beard and an enormous sports bag hanging from one shoulder. In his hands, the bag looked like a toy.
“Good evening, ma’am!”
The first man’s voice boomed as he carefully closed the door behind him. Surprisingly, his tone was soft, almost apologetic.
“We’ve brought our things, as agreed.”
Galina Ivanovna backed away until she was pressed against the coat rack. Kostik appeared to stop breathing altogether.
“Hello, Stas.”
Vera nodded, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders.
“Come in. Meet my relatives. They stopped by to say goodbye to the apartment.”
Stas carefully studied the pale-faced Kostik and his mother, who was flattened against the wall. Then he smiled politely, revealing a row of even white teeth.
“Relatives are good. Family is sacred. Denis, bring in the bags!”
The second giant turned sideways to squeeze into the hallway and lowered the sports bag onto the floor. The old floorboards creaked miserably beneath its weight.
“Who… who are you?”
Galina Ivanovna’s voice cracked. She clutched her cardigan convulsively as though seeking protection from it.
“Gentlemen, you have the wrong apartment! We’ll call the police! Kostya, call them!”
Kostik made no move to reach for his phone. Instead, he tried to merge with the floral wallpaper, slowly retreating deeper into the living room.
Stas calmly removed his enormous sneakers, placed them neatly in the corner, and looked at Vera questioningly.
“Is there a problem, ma’am? We can walk around the courtyard for half an hour while you settle your family business. We’re in no hurry, and the weather is nice.”
“There’s no problem, Stas.”
Vera folded her arms across her chest and turned toward her mother-in-law.
“Galina Ivanovna, this is Stanislav, and this is Denis. They are coaches at the boxing club that recently opened in the next courtyard. They have rented this apartment.”
She paused.
“I rented it to them. They paid six months in advance.”
Her mother-in-law stared in shock, shifting her gaze from Vera to the two giants standing in the hallway.
“You… rented it?”
She forced the words out and licked her dry lips.
“What about Yulia?”
“Yulia can get a job,” Vera snapped. “So can her husband. This money will go toward paying off the mortgage on the apartment Kostya and I own. It will help us clear the debt sooner. You wanted this apartment to work for the family, didn’t you? Well, that is exactly what it’s doing.”
Denis, who had been standing silently near the door and rolling his neck, suddenly leaned toward Galina Ivanovna.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
He pointed one massive finger toward the bulging pocket of her cardigan.
“I can hear some keys jingling in there. They wouldn’t happen to be ours, would they? The landlady promised us a second set. For convenience.”
Galina Ivanovna shuddered from head to toe.
All her arrogance and commanding bravado vanished in a single second. For some reason, her reinforced-concrete confidence stopped working in the presence of two professional athletes.
With trembling fingers, she pulled the key ring from her pocket and silently placed it into Denis’s enormous hand.
“Much obliged.”
Denis nodded and slipped the keys into the pocket of his sweatpants.
“Make yourselves at home, Stas.”
Vera turned toward the tenants, ignoring her mother-in-law’s condition.
“I checked the pipes yesterday. The meters are in the hallway, and the Wi-Fi has been paid for. Call me at any time if you need anything.”
Stas cast a professional eye around the living room and suddenly noticed the tape measure that Galina Ivanovna was still clutching against her thigh in her left hand.
“Oh, that’s useful!”
The boxer brightened and stepped toward her.
“Ma’am, could we borrow that for five minutes? We’d like to see whether a wall bar and pull-up bar will fit in that corner. We won’t drill much. We’ll install them with tension mounts, just as we agreed.”
Without making a sound, Galina Ivanovna unclipped the tape measure and handed it to Stas.
Then she silently snatched her raincoat from the bench, grabbed Kostik by the sleeve of his shirt, and squeezed sideways onto the landing, taking care not to brush against Denis’s shoulder.
Vera followed them out to close the door.
Kostik stood on the landing staring down at his shoes. He looked as though he had just been scolded by the school principal.
“Vera, you really are something…”
He muttered under his breath without looking up.
“You could at least have warned us. Mom’s offended now.”
“She’ll survive.”
Vera shrugged, feeling a pleasant, peaceful lightness spreading through her.
“Go and catch up with her. She still has to break the news to Yulia.”
Vera returned to the apartment. Stas’s deep voice was already carrying from the living room as he discussed with Denis where they should move the heavy leather sofa to make room for a punching bag.
Vera collected her handbag, said goodbye to the new tenants, and went outside.
The autumn air was cool and surprisingly clean.
Six months passed.
The mortgage balance on their one-bedroom apartment began shrinking rapidly thanks to Stas’s regular, punctual payments.
The boxers turned out to be ideal tenants. They made no noise, never brought groups of people home, and the downstairs neighbor even stopped posting complaints in the building’s group chat after Denis helped her carry several heavy buckets of produce from her country house all the way to the elevator.
Galina Ivanovna no longer spoke to Vera.
At the occasional family gathering, she would pointedly purse her lips and turn toward the window whenever her daughter-in-law entered the room.
From time to time, Kostik would sigh in the kitchen and ask Vera to “be the wiser person,” “take the first step,” and apologize to his mother for that unpleasant incident involving the apartment.
Vera did not argue with her husband.
Each time, she simply poured herself a cup of coffee, opened the banking app on her phone, and looked at the remaining mortgage balance.
She had absolutely no desire to apologize.
And there was no reason for her to do so.
