“Have you no conscience? We’ll be left without a home!” my mother-in-law protested, even though she had not paid a single kopeck for three years.
Lidia stood by the window of the one-room apartment and looked out at the gray courtyard. Their second year of living in such a cramped space was wearing on her. A sofa bed they had to unfold every evening, an old wardrobe, a tiny kitchen with a refrigerator that could barely fit between the table and the stove. Artyom had been renting this apartment even before they met; then they got married and moved in together, but they had never had the means to upgrade.
Lidia dreamed of a spacious apartment where they could put a proper bed, set up a separate living room, and have guests over without feeling cramped. Artyom had promised to save for a mortgage down payment, but the money kept going toward everyday expenses.
On Thursday evening, the notary called.
“Lidia Sergeyevna? You need to come in to complete the inheritance paperwork. Your aunt, Anna Fyodorovna, left you a two-room apartment on Lenin Street in her will.”
The woman almost dropped the phone. Aunt Anna lived in another city; they had rarely seen each other, and the last time had been at her grandmother’s funeral about five years earlier. The elderly woman had no children and no other close relatives. Lidia had not even known that her aunt remembered her.
A week later, all the paperwork was completed. The apartment really had passed into Lidia’s ownership: fifty-four square meters, two rooms, a kitchen, and a separate bathroom and toilet. The neighborhood was good, the infrastructure was well developed, and the metro was a ten-minute walk away.
Lidia came home and shouted from the doorway:
“Tyoma! We have an apartment! A two-bedroom!”
Artyom came out of the kitchen with a dish towel in his hands.
“What? Where from?”
“Aunt Anna left it to me!” Lidia waved the documents in the air. “Can you imagine? We can move! It’s a real apartment, spacious!”
Her husband hugged her while looking over the papers.
“Wow. I didn’t even know you had an aunt like that.”
“She was a distant relative, my mother’s sister. We rarely saw each other. But she remembered me,” Lidia said, smiling from ear to ear. “When are we moving?”
“Let’s look at the apartment first and assess its condition,” Artyom suggested. “Then we’ll decide.”
The apartment turned out to be in decent shape. The renovation was old but solid, and the furniture had been left behind — a sofa, a bed, wardrobes. They could move in right away without spending anything.
Lidia walked from room to room, planning where everything would go and how she would arrange the space. Artyom inspected the windows, checked the radiators, and tapped on the walls.
“Not bad,” her husband concluded. “So, are we moving?”
“Of course!” Lidia said happily.
But that same evening, Artyom came home from work thoughtful and quiet. Lidia immediately noticed the change in his mood.
“What happened?”
“Mom called,” Artyom said, sitting down at the table and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We talked about the apartment.”
“And?”
“Lida, I was thinking…” her husband hesitated. “Mom and Vyacheslav are in a difficult situation. They live in the village, the house is old, and it has no amenities. Vyacheslav can’t find a job, there are no prospects there.”
Lidia frowned, already sensing where the conversation was going.
“Tyoma, are you trying to say…”
“Maybe we could let them move into your apartment?” Artyom blurted out quickly. “Temporarily. They’ll get settled in the city, get back on their feet, find their own place. And in the meantime, we’ll stay here.”
“Temporarily?” Lidia repeated. “For how long?”
“Well, six months to a year,” her husband answered uncertainly. “Maybe less. Vyacheslav will find a job quickly, and Mom can pick up some part-time work too. They’ll save up and rent something. Maybe they’ll sell their house.”
Lidia leaned back in her chair. Inside, everything tightened with disappointment. The apartment that was supposed to become their new home was now being handed over to her mother-in-law and her husband’s brother.
“And what about us?” the woman asked quietly. “Are we just going to stay in this one-room place?”
“Lidia, we’ll hold out a little longer,” Artyom said, taking her hand. “They’re my family. They really are having a hard time. Please help them.”
“Will they pay rent?” Lidia asked.
Artyom looked away.
“They don’t have any money. Mom lives on a tiny pension, and Vyacheslav is unemployed. How are they supposed to pay?”
“So they’ll live there for free,” Lidia stated.
“Temporarily,” he repeated. “I promise, as soon as they get back on their feet, they’ll move out.”
Lidia thought about it for several days. She could have rented the apartment out to strangers for thirty thousand rubles a month. In a year, that would be three hundred thousand. It would have covered their own rent and allowed them to save some money. They could have used that money for repairs. Or they could have moved in themselves, lived comfortably, and maybe even found better jobs. But on the other hand, her husband’s family really did need help. Refusing would hurt Artyom and damage her relationship with her mother-in-law.
In the end, pity won out. Lidia agreed.
“All right. Let them move in. But only for a while, Artyom. Not forever.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” her husband said, kissing her all over her face. “You’re the best. Mom will be so happy.”
Zhanna Petrovna really was happy. Her mother-in-law called Lidia, thanked her, promised not to cause any trouble, and swore they would quickly find another place to live.
Two weeks later, Zhanna Petrovna and Vyacheslav moved into the two-room apartment. They brought only a few belongings, settled in, and began getting used to the place. The young couple remained in the cramped one-room apartment.
The first months passed peacefully. Zhanna Petrovna often called, telling them how good life was in the city, how Vyacheslav was looking for work, and how convenient it was to get to the shops and clinics. Her mother-in-law thanked her daughter-in-law for the help and promised they would move out soon.
Vyacheslav got a job as a loader in a warehouse. The pay was small, but at least it was something. Zhanna Petrovna worked part-time as a cleaner in a shopping center. Lidia was glad — that meant they would soon save enough to rent a place of their own.
A year passed. Then a second. Then a third. Zhanna Petrovna and Vyacheslav settled comfortably into the apartment, bought new furniture and appliances, and did some cosmetic repairs. Moving out was no longer even discussed.
Lidia visited them from time to time, checking on the condition of the apartment. Zhanna Petrovna welcomed her warmly, served her tea, and showed off the new things they had bought. Vyacheslav would say hello and then quickly retreat to his room.
“How are things with finding a place?” Lidia would ask carefully.
“Oh, dear, the prices are outrageous,” Zhanna Petrovna would wave her off. “We’re saving, of course, but slowly. Soon, soon, we’ll definitely move out.”
Artyom gave evasive answers whenever his wife asked questions.
“Give them time. They’ll save up and leave.”
Lidia kept silent, although irritation was growing inside her. Three years of living rent-free in the city center was worth a lot of money. During that time, they could have saved for a down payment, rented a decent place, and built a life for themselves.
At the beginning of the fourth year, Lidia found out she was pregnant. The test showed two lines, and the doctor confirmed it — six weeks along. The woman sat in the gynecologist’s office and thought about the future. A baby in a one-room apartment was impossible. They needed a nursery, space for a crib, a changing table, and toys.
That evening, Lidia told her husband the news.
“Tyoma, I’m pregnant.”
Artyom hugged his wife, kissed her, and congratulated her. Joy shone on his face.
“This is wonderful! We’re going to be parents!..Lidia stood by the window of the one-room apartment, looking out at the gray courtyard. Their second year of living in such a cramped space was wearing her down. A sofa bed they had to unfold every evening, an old wardrobe, a tiny kitchen with a refrigerator that barely fit between the table and the stove. Artyom had been renting this apartment even before they met; then they got married and moved in together, but they still had no chance to upgrade.
Lidia dreamed of a spacious apartment where they could have a real bed, set up a separate living room, and host guests without feeling cramped. Artyom had promised to save for a mortgage down payment, but the money kept going toward day-to-day expenses.
On Thursday evening, the notary called.
“Lidia Sergeyevna? You need to come in to complete the inheritance paperwork. Your aunt Anna Fyodorovna left you a two-room apartment on Lenin Street in her will.”
The woman almost dropped the phone. Aunt Anna lived in another city; they rarely saw each other, the last time being at her grandmother’s funeral about five years earlier. The elderly woman had no children and no other close relatives. Lidia had not even known her aunt remembered her.
A week later, all the documents were completed. The apartment had indeed passed into Lidia’s ownership: fifty-four square meters, two rooms, a kitchen, and a separate bathroom and toilet. The neighborhood was good, the infrastructure well developed, and the metro was a ten-minute walk away.
Lidia came home and shouted from the doorway:
“Tyoma! We’ve got an apartment! A two-room apartment!”
Artyom came out of the kitchen with a towel in his hands.
“What? Where from?”
“Aunt Anna left it to me as an inheritance!” Lidia waved the papers excitedly. “Can you imagine? We can move! It’s a proper apartment, spacious!”
Her husband embraced her while looking over the documents.
“Wow. I didn’t even know you had an aunt like that.”
“She’s a distant relative, my mother’s sister. We rarely saw each other. But she remembered me,” Lidia said, smiling from ear to ear. “When are we moving?”
“Let’s look at the apartment first, see what condition it’s in,” Artyom suggested. “Then we’ll decide.”
The apartment turned out to be in decent shape. The renovation was old but solid, and the furniture had been left behind: a sofa, a bed, wardrobes. They could move in right away without spending anything.
Lidia walked from room to room, imagining where everything would go and how she would arrange the space. Artyom inspected the windows, checked the radiators, and knocked on the walls.
“Not bad,” her husband concluded. “So, are we moving?”
“Of course!” Lidia said happily.
But that same evening, Artyom came home from work thoughtful and quiet. Lidia noticed the change in his mood right away.
“What happened?”
“Mom called,” Artyom said, sitting down at the table and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We talked about the apartment.”
“And?”
“Lida, I was thinking…” her husband hesitated. “Mom and Vyacheslav are in a difficult situation. They live in the village, the house is old, there are no proper amenities. Vyacheslav can’t find work, and there are no prospects.”
Lidia frowned, already sensing where the conversation was going.
“Tyoma, are you trying to say…”
“Maybe we could let them move into your apartment?” Artyom blurted out quickly. “Temporarily. They’ll get settled in the city, get back on their feet, find their own place. And we’ll stay here for now.”
“Temporarily?” Lidia repeated. “For how long?”
“Well, six months to a year,” her husband answered uncertainly. “Maybe less. Vyacheslav will find a job quickly, and Mom can pick up some part-time work too. They’ll save up and rent something. Maybe they’ll sell their house.”
Lidia leaned back in her chair. Everything inside her tightened with disappointment. The apartment that was supposed to become their new home was now being handed over to her mother-in-law and her husband’s brother.
“And what about us?” she asked quietly. “Are we supposed to stay in this one-room apartment?”
“Lidia, we’ll just have to put up with it a little longer,” Artyom said, taking her hand. “They’re my family. They’re really struggling. Please help them.”
“Will they pay rent?” Lidia asked.
Artyom looked away.
“They don’t have the money. Mom’s pension is tiny, and Vyacheslav doesn’t have a job. How could they pay?”
“So they’ll live there for free,” Lidia stated.
“Temporarily,” her husband repeated. “I promise, as soon as they get back on their feet, they’ll move out.”
Lidia thought about it for several days. She could have rented the apartment to strangers for thirty thousand rubles a month. In a year, that would be three hundred thousand. It would have covered their own rent and allowed them to save. The money would have come in handy for renovations. Or they could have moved in themselves, lived comfortably, and maybe even found better jobs. But on the other hand, her husband’s family really did need help. Refusing would hurt Artyom and damage her relationship with her mother-in-law.
In the end, pity won out. Lidia agreed.
“All right. Let them move in. But only for a while, Artyom. Not forever.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” her husband said, showering her with kisses. “You’re the best. Mom will be so happy.”
Zhanna Petrovna truly was delighted. Her mother-in-law called Lidia, thanked her, promised not to be a burden, and swore they would quickly find another place to live.
Two weeks later, Zhanna Petrovna and Vyacheslav moved into the two-room apartment. They brought only a minimum of things, settled in, and began adjusting. The young couple remained in the cramped one-room apartment.
The first few months passed peacefully. Zhanna Petrovna often called, telling Lidia how good life in the city was, how Vyacheslav was looking for work, and how convenient it was to get to the shops and the clinic. Her mother-in-law thanked her daughter-in-law for the help and promised they would move out soon.
Vyacheslav got a job as a loader in a warehouse. The pay was small, but at least it was something. Zhanna Petrovna worked part-time as a cleaner in a shopping center. Lidia was glad—it meant they would soon save up enough to rent a place of their own.
A year passed. Then a second. Then a third. Zhanna Petrovna and Vyacheslav had settled in fully, bought new furniture and appliances, and even done some cosmetic repairs. No one spoke of moving out anymore.
Lidia visited them from time to time, checking on the condition of the apartment. Zhanna Petrovna welcomed her warmly, served her tea, and showed off the new purchases. Vyacheslav would say hello and then quickly retreat to his room.
“How are things going with finding a place?” Lidia would ask cautiously.
“Oh, dear, the prices are outrageous,” Zhanna Petrovna would wave her off. “We’re saving, of course, but slowly. Soon, soon, we’ll definitely move out.”
Artyom responded evasively whenever his wife asked.
“Give them time. They’ll save up and leave.”
Lidia stayed silent, though inside her irritation kept building. Three years of living rent-free in the city center was worth a lot of money. During that time, they could have saved for a down payment, rented decent housing, and gotten their lives together.
At the beginning of the fourth year, Lidia found out she was pregnant. The test showed two lines, and the doctor confirmed it—six weeks along. She sat in the gynecologist’s office thinking about the future. A baby in a one-room apartment was impossible. They needed a nursery, space for a crib, a changing table, toys.
That evening, Lidia told her husband the news.
“Tyoma, I’m pregnant.”
Artyom hugged her, kissed her, and congratulated her. Joy was written all over his face.
“That’s wonderful! We’re going to be parents!”
“Yes,” Lidia nodded. “And we need a proper apartment. Your mother and Vyacheslav have to move out.”
Artyom’s expression darkened.
“When?”
“By the time the baby is born. In eight months. That’s plenty of time to find housing.”
“But they have nowhere to go,” her husband objected.
“In three years they could have found somewhere,” Lidia said firmly. “I can’t wait any longer. We need that apartment.”
Artyom said nothing. Lidia could see how torn he was between his mother and his wife, but this time she had no intention of giving in.
The next day, Lidia called Zhanna Petrovna.
“Hello. I need to talk to you.”
“Of course, dear, come by,” her mother-in-law replied warmly.
Lidia went over that evening. Zhanna Petrovna greeted her at the door and led her into the kitchen. Vyacheslav was sitting in the living room watching television.
“Zhanna Petrovna, I’m pregnant,” Lidia began without preamble. “We need this apartment. You’ll have to move out in eight months.”
Her mother-in-law froze with a cup in her hands. Her face went blank.
“What? Move out?”
“Yes. You’ve been living here rent-free for three years. That’s more than enough time to find another place.”
“But… but where will we go?” Zhanna Petrovna protested. “We don’t have money for rent!”
“You could have saved over three years,” Lidia reminded her. “Vyacheslav works, and you have side jobs. If you’d put away even ten thousand rubles a month, you would have a decent amount by now.”
“Ten thousand?” her mother-in-law burst out. “We can barely afford to live as it is!”
“Zhanna Petrovna, we need the apartment,” Lidia repeated firmly.
“You can’t throw us out!” Zhanna Petrovna stood up, clenching her fists. “We’re family!”
“That’s exactly why I’m giving you eight months to find housing,” Lidia replied calmly. “That’s more than enough.”
Hearing the shouting, Vyacheslav came into the kitchen.
“What’s going on?”
“She’s throwing us out!” Zhanna Petrovna pointed at her daughter-in-law. “She says we have to move!”
“On what grounds?” Vyacheslav frowned. “We live here. We’ve settled in.”
“On the grounds that the apartment is mine,” Lidia reminded him. “And I need it for my child.”
“Ungrateful,” Zhanna Petrovna hissed. “We accepted you into the family, and you…”
“I let you live here for free for three years,” Lidia interrupted. “That’s my gratitude.”
Zhanna Petrovna burst into tears. Vyacheslav put his arm around his mother and threw Lidia a hateful look.
“What a snake,” her husband’s brother muttered.
“Vyacheslav!” Lidia jumped to her feet. “Watch your mouth!”
“What? I’m telling the truth,” he snapped back. “You’re throwing an old woman out onto the street.”
“I’m giving you eight months to find housing,” Lidia repeated. “I’m not throwing you out onto the street.”
She left, slamming the door behind her. When she got home, Artyom already knew about the conversation—Zhanna Petrovna had managed to call her son and complain.
“Why did you have to be so harsh?” her husband reproached her.
“Harsh?” Lidia stared at Artyom. “I waited three years! Three years we’ve been living in a one-room apartment because your mother and brother took over my apartment! We pay our rent and their utilities. We live in discomfort and lose money.”
“But they’re family,” Artyom objected.
“And who am I?” Lidia asked. “I’m your wife. And soon I’ll be the mother of your child. Or is your mother more important?”
Artyom fell silent. Lidia went into the bedroom and lay down on the sofa. The tears started rolling down her cheeks on their own. It was hurtful. Painful. Unfair.
The following months turned into a nightmare. Every visit to her mother-in-law came with a scandal. Zhanna Petrovna accused her daughter-in-law of cruelty, selfishness, and ingratitude. Vyacheslav backed his mother and called Lidia all kinds of nasty names.
“We trusted you!” Zhanna Petrovna would scream. “We thought you were kind! But you…”
“I am kind,” Lidia would reply wearily. “That’s why I let you live here rent-free for three years. And we agreed from the beginning that this would be temporary.”
“Three years!” her mother-in-law mocked. “So what! We did repairs here, we bought furniture!”
“Furniture for my apartment,” Lidia clarified. “Thank you—you can leave it for me.”
The conflicts escalated. Zhanna Petrovna pressured Artyom, demanding that her son talk sense into his wife. Artyom was torn between the two women, not knowing whom to support.
Lidia stood her ground. The pregnancy was progressing normally, her belly was growing, and the due date was drawing near. In her mind, she had already begun preparing one of the rooms in the two-room apartment as a nursery—just as soon as her mother-in-law and brother-in-law moved out.
Two weeks before the birth, Zhanna Petrovna showed up at the young couple’s apartment. She burst in that evening while Artyom was home. Her face was red, her eyes blazing, her hands shaking with emotion.
“We need to talk!” Zhanna Petrovna declared as she marched into the room.
Lidia was sitting on the sofa, Artyom standing by the window.
“I’m listening,” her daughter-in-law said calmly.
“Have you no conscience?!” her mother-in-law exploded. “We’ll be left without a place to live! Where are we supposed to go?!”
“Zhanna Petrovna, you were given eight months,” Lidia reminded her. “What did you do during all that time?”
“We were looking for housing!” her mother-in-law shouted. “Everything is expensive! We can’t afford it!”
“Then look for something cheaper,” Lidia suggested. “Rent a room. A dormitory.”
“A room?!” Zhanna Petrovna choked with outrage. “We’re used to decent conditions! To a two-room apartment!”
“To my two-room apartment,” Lidia corrected her, “which I allowed you to occupy rent-free for three years.”
“Rent-free!” her mother-in-law mocked. “And who did the repairs? Who bought the furniture? We invested in this apartment!”
“No one asked you to,” Lidia replied. “The apartment was in decent condition.”
“You’re heartless!” Zhanna Petrovna jabbed a finger at her daughter-in-law. “Selfish! You only think about yourself!”
“I’m thinking about my child,” Lidia said, placing a hand on her belly. “He needs a room. We need comfort.”
“And what about us—are we supposed to live on the street?!” Zhanna Petrovna shrieked.
“You haven’t paid a single kopeck for housing in three years,” Lidia reminded her coldly. “You could have saved during that time. Where is your money?”
Zhanna Petrovna faltered and looked away.
“We… we lived. We spent it on food, clothes, medicine.”
“So you lived at my expense,” Lidia concluded. “You saved on rent. That was my help. But the help ends now.”
“You have no right to throw us out!” Zhanna Petrovna stamped her foot. “We’re family!”
“I do,” Lidia said, pulling out the documents. “The apartment is mine by right of inheritance. You’re not registered there. I can ask you to leave at any time.”
“Then… then…” her mother-in-law thought frantically. “Transfer the apartment to me!”
Lidia stared at her in disbelief.
“What?!”
“Transfer it to me,” Zhanna Petrovna repeated. “As compensation for the three years. We invested in it, did repairs. That’s only fair.”
“Are you joking?” Lidia could hardly believe her ears.
“I’m not joking!” her mother-in-law crossed her arms over her chest. “Either transfer it, or we won’t leave just like that!”
“Mom,” Artyom finally cut in. “What are you even saying?”
“What do you mean, what?” Zhanna Petrovna turned to her son. “I’m demanding justice! We lived there for three years, made a home there! Now they’re throwing us out!”
“The apartment belongs to Lidia,” Artyom said firmly. “You have no right to demand it.”
“And you?!” his mother pointed a finger at her son. “You’re on her side?”
“I’m on my wife’s side,” her husband replied. “And my child’s.”
“Traitor!” Zhanna Petrovna burst into tears. “You traded your own mother for this…”
“That’s enough, Mom,” Artyom said, raising his hand. “You’ve crossed every line. Lida helped you for three years. Let you live there for free. Now we need the apartment. Move out.”
“I won’t!” Zhanna Petrovna shook her head stubbornly.
“Then I’ll file a lawsuit,” Lidia said calmly. “I’ll have you evicted by force.”
Zhanna Petrovna looked at her daughter-in-law, then at her son. She realized she had lost. She turned and walked out, slamming the door.
A month after giving birth, Lidia received the keys to the apartment. Zhanna Petrovna and Vyacheslav had moved out, taking their belongings with them. Lidia stepped into the apartment and froze in the doorway.
The walls were covered in scribbles, the wallpaper torn. There were stains on the floor. The furniture and appliances bought by her husband’s relatives were gone. The bathroom was in terrible condition—the tiles were cracked, the plumbing leaked. The kitchen was filthy, grease covered the stove, and the cabinet doors were broken.
Lidia walked through the rooms, assessing the damage. Repairs would cost at least two hundred thousand rubles. Maybe more. Her mother-in-law and brother-in-law had clearly taken revenge on the way out.
Artyom came in behind her, saw the devastation, and cursed.
“My mother and brother have completely lost it. They did this on purpose.”
“It’s all right,” Lidia said, wiping away tears. “We’ll fix it. The main thing is that the apartment is ours.”
She pulled out her phone and began photographing the damage. She could file a lawsuit and demand compensation, though it was unlikely Zhanna Petrovna would pay.
The repairs took three months. Lidia put in her savings, Artyom found a better job and took out a loan, but together they got the apartment back into decent condition. Light-colored walls, new laminate flooring, updated plumbing. One room was made into a nursery—a crib, a changing table, a wardrobe for baby clothes. The other became the parents’ bedroom.
Zhanna Petrovna never called. Vyacheslav stayed silent too. Artyom tried reaching his mother, but she would not answer. Through acquaintances, he learned that his mother and brother were renting a room in a dormitory on the outskirts of the city.
Lidia felt no pity. Three years of free living in a good apartment was more than her husband’s relatives deserved. They could have saved, looked for better work, and planned for the future. Instead, they had lived only for the moment, spent everything on themselves, and then acted outraged when the free ride ended.
Lidia stood by the nursery window, rocking her daughter in her arms. The baby was asleep, snuffling softly through her little nose. Lidia looked at her sleeping child and smiled. This was who it had been worth fighting for. Her daughter, her family, her future.
Artyom came into the room and hugged his wife from behind.
“I’m sorry Mom behaved like that,” her husband said quietly. “I never thought she was capable of something like this.”
“It’s all behind us now,” Lidia replied. “The main thing is that we’re together. We have a home, a child, a future.”
“Yes,” Artyom agreed. “You did the right thing by not giving up.”
Lidia nodded. It had been hard—conflicts, scandals, accusations. But she endured it and stood up for what was hers. The apartment remained her property, the family got a proper home, and the child was growing up in comfortable conditions.
As for Zhanna Petrovna and Vyacheslav, they could sort out their own lives. Lidia had given them a chance, helped them, supported them. Three years was more than enough time to get settled. But the relatives had chosen to live at someone else’s expense and then complain when that free life came to an end.
Lidia laid her daughter in the crib and tucked a blanket around her. Then she left the room with her husband. A new life awaited them—in their own apartment, with the person she loved, and their little daughter. Without extra people, without conflict, without those who treated help as something they were entitled to. And that life seemed to Lidia right, fair, and well deserved.
