Yulia walked into the apartment and immediately heard her mother-in-law’s familiar voice coming from the kitchen. Anna Ivanovna had shown up again without warning. For the third time that week.
“Yulechka, you’re home!” her mother-in-law called, peeking out of the kitchen with an unnaturally wide smile. “I made some borscht, try it.”
Yulia took off her shoes and hung up her coat. She walked over to the kitchen and saw a large pot on the stove. Borscht. Again. Anna Ivanovna cooked it every time she came over, and every time she criticized the way Yulia cooked.
“Thank you, Anna Ivanovna,” Yulia said, sitting down at the table. “But I’m not hungry.”
“What do you mean, not hungry?” her mother-in-law frowned. “You just got home from work! You need to eat something hot. You’ve gotten so thin, you look like a skeleton.”
Yulia picked up a cup and poured herself some tea. She stayed silent. There was no point arguing. Anna Ivanovna would find something to criticize anyway.
In three years of marriage, Yulia had gotten used to her husband’s relatives constantly dropping by. Her mother-in-law came at least twice a week. Maksim’s sister, Ekaterina, stopped by a little less often, but she called almost every day. Both women considered it their duty to control Yulia’s life and give unsolicited advice.
“Listen, Yulia,” Ekaterina said as she walked into the kitchen holding her phone, “why are your curtains so gloomy? You really should replace them with something lighter.”
Yulia looked at the curtains. Gray, in a calm muted shade. She had bought them herself and spent a long time choosing them.
“I like them,” Yulia replied.
“Oh, come on,” Ekaterina snorted. “It looks like a hospital room. I’ll send you photos of some normal curtains, and you can order those.”
Yulia nodded as she finished her tea. She knew Ekaterina would send links to some curtains with ruffles and flowers anyway. And then she’d get offended if Yulia didn’t order them.
Maksim got home around eight in the evening. He hugged his mother, kissed his sister on the cheek, and gave Yulia a nod.
“Hi. Mom, you cooked again? Thanks, I’m starving.”
Anna Ivanovna bustled around, filling a large bowl of borscht for her son. Yulia watched the scene and felt the familiar irritation building inside her. Maksim never thanked his wife for cooking. But the moment his mother made borscht, he turned into a grateful son.
“Yulia, did you eat?” Maksim asked as he sat at the table and started eating.
“Yes,” Yulia lied.
Katya sat down across from her brother.
“Maks, by the way, Yulia stayed late at work again today. I called her at four and she didn’t answer. Probably chatting with her coworkers again.”
Yulia clenched her fists. Ekaterina was always calling during working hours and then complaining to Maksim that his wife was ignoring the family.
“I was in a meeting,” Yulia explained calmly. “My phone was on silent.”
“In a meeting,” Ekaterina mocked. “And the family can just wait, right?”
Maksim said nothing and kept eating. Anna Ivanovna sighed.
“Yulechka, you do understand that family is the most important thing. Work is work, but loved ones matter more.”
Yulia stood up from the table.
“Excuse me, I need to finish a report.”
She shut herself in the bedroom and turned on her laptop. She sat staring at the screen, but the letters blurred before her eyes. She was tired. So tired of the constant pressure, the barbed remarks, the feeling that nothing she did was ever right.
Another six months of that life passed. Yulia got used to keeping a straight face, smiling through clenched teeth, ignoring the mockery. Anna Ivanovna criticized her hairstyle, her clothes, the way she walked. Ekaterina found fault with the apartment, the car, Yulia’s job. Maksim never defended his wife. Never.
“What kind of person are you, Yulia?” Ekaterina said one evening. “You buy yourself such an expensive handbag, but you don’t help Maks’s mother. Her pension is tiny.”
Yulia silently poured herself some water. Anna Ivanovna received a decent pension and lived in her own two-room apartment with no debts. But her husband’s family believed Yulia was obligated to support them financially all the time.
“I didn’t buy the bag,” Yulia said. “It was a birthday gift from a friend.”
“Oh, come on,” Ekaterina sneered. “Still, you could’ve refused it and asked for cash instead. You could have given it to Mom.”
Yulia set the glass down on the table so sharply that water splashed out.
“Ekaterina, it was a gift. None of your business.”
“Wow,” Ekaterina said, widening her eyes. “Just look at her! Listen to how she talks now! Maksim, do you hear how your wife is speaking to me?”
Maksim was sitting on the couch watching TV.
“Yulia, don’t be rude to my sister.”
Yulia went out onto the balcony. She shut the door behind her and pressed her forehead against the cold glass. She was so sick of it. So completely sick of all of it.
In the spring, a notary called. The voice was calm and official.
“Good afternoon, am I speaking to Yulia Vladimirovna Sokolova?”
“Yes, this is she,” Yulia said, pressing speakerphone and holding the phone to her ear. She was standing in the office hallway while coworkers moved past her.
“You need to come to our office to process an inheritance. Your aunt, Lyudmila Petrovna, left you a will.”
Yulia froze. Aunt Lyuda. Her father’s sister, who lived in another city. They didn’t see each other often, maybe once every few years, but they always spoke warmly on the phone. Yulia hadn’t even known her aunt was ill.
“When… when did it happen?” Yulia swallowed hard.
“Two weeks ago. Please accept my condolences. When can you come in?”
Yulia went to the notary’s office the next day. The notary, a woman in her fifties, handed her a folder of documents.
“Lyudmila Petrovna left you an apartment in the city center and funds in several accounts. The total amount is about ten million rubles.”
Yulia stared at the papers. Ten million. The number simply would not fit in her mind.
“I… I don’t understand. Where did Aunt Lyuda get that kind of money?”
“Your aunt sold her business a few years ago,” the notary explained. “A successful chain of stores. She invested most of the money in real estate and deposits. All of it is yours now.”
Yulia signed the paperwork and walked outside. She sat down on a bench near the office. She took out her phone and looked at the last message from Aunt Lyuda. It had been sent six months earlier.
“Yulechka, stay strong. Remember that you are smart and strong. Don’t let anyone break you.”
Yulia cried there on the bench. Passersby walked around her. She cried for her aunt, for lost time, for the fact that she had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.
She told Maksim that evening. Briefly, without details.
“My aunt died. She left me an inheritance.”
Maksim looked up from his phone.
“My condolences. What kind of inheritance?”
“An apartment and money,” Yulia said, without mentioning the amount.
“I see,” Maksim nodded and went back to his screen. “Well, that’s good.”
Yulia didn’t tell him the details. For some reason, she didn’t want to share. Her intuition told her: stay quiet for now.
But within a week, Anna Ivanovna somehow found out. She arrived Saturday morning, burst into the apartment with a glowing face, and exclaimed:
“Yulenka! I heard about the inheritance! Congratulations, dear!”
Yulia froze with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“How did you find out?”
“Oh, what does it matter?” her mother-in-law waved her hand. “The important thing is that now we have so many possibilities! We can buy a bigger apartment, replace the car…”
Yulia set the cup on the table.
“Anna Ivanovna, this is my inheritance.”
“Of course, dear, of course,” her mother-in-law fussed around the kitchen, pulling groceries out of a bag. “But you understand, family is one whole! We have to think about everyone!”
Yulia walked out of the kitchen without listening any further. Maksim was sitting in the living room playing some game on his tablet.
“Your mother found out about the money,” Yulia said, sitting down across from him.
“So what?” Maksim didn’t look up. “She’s not asking for anything.”
“Yet,” Yulia said, crossing her arms.
The following weeks turned into a nightmare. Anna Ivanovna came over every day. Ekaterina called three times a day. Both women went from being critical to being fawning.
“Yulechka, I baked a pie, your favorite,” Anna Ivanovna would say, holding out a plate. “Apple, remember? You used to praise it.”
Yulia had never praised her mother-in-law’s pies. But she said nothing and took a piece.
Ekaterina started dropping by with gifts. Cheap cosmetics, a box of candy, a card with syrupy poems.
“Yulia, I was thinking, maybe we could go to the movies together? We haven’t spent time together properly in so long.”
Yulia looked at her husband’s sister and barely recognized her. Where had that sarcastic, eternally displeased Ekaterina gone? This new version was even more disgusting.
“Thanks, but I’m busy,” Yulia refused every time.
Anna Ivanovna’s hints became more persistent.
“Yulechka, you know Katya is really struggling financially. Her husband left her, and he doesn’t pay child support. Maybe you could help a little? Just symbolically, fifty thousand.”
Yulia turned sharply.
“Fifty thousand is symbolic?”
“Well, for you now it’s not really money,” her mother-in-law said uncertainly. “You have ten million!”
“How do you know the amount?” Yulia stepped closer.
Anna Ivanovna faltered.
“Maksim told me…”
Yulia left the room and found her husband in the kitchen.
“You told your mother how much I inherited?”
Maksim shrugged.
“So what? She’s my mother.”
“It’s my money,” Yulia said, clenching her fists. “My private business.”
“Yulia, don’t be dramatic,” Maksim waved her off. “The family would’ve found out anyway.”
Yulia turned and left. She grabbed her jacket and went outside. She walked around the city for two hours, trying to calm down.
When she came home, she found a family council in progress. Anna Ivanovna, Ekaterina, and Maksim were sitting at the table, discussing something. They fell silent when Yulia came in.
“What are you talking about?” Yulia asked, hanging up her coat.
“Oh, just family matters,” Maksim said awkwardly with a smile.
“Family matters you discuss without me?” Yulia sat down.
Ekaterina pursed her lips.
“Yulia, you do understand that with that kind of money comes responsibility? The family should support you, but you should help too.”
“Responsibility?” Yulia tilted her head. “What exactly do you mean?”
“Well, for example, helping Mom with her renovation,” Ekaterina began listing things. “Pitching in for me to get a new car. Helping Maksim with his business project.”
“Stop,” Yulia raised her hand. “What business project?”
Maksim cleared his throat.
“I wanted to start my own business. An auto repair shop. I’ve dreamed about it for a long time.”
“And how much do you need?” Yulia looked at her husband.
“Probably about three million,” Maksim scratched the back of his head. “To get started.”
Yulia laughed. She laughed until tears came to her eyes while all three of them looked at her in confusion.
“What’s so funny?” Anna Ivanovna said, offended. “Maksim is serious!”
“Serious,” Yulia said, wiping her eyes. “For three years you criticized me. You said I was a bad wife, a bad housekeeper. That I didn’t care about the family. And now, the moment I have money, suddenly I’m good?”
“Yulia, don’t do this,” Maksim tried to take her hand.
Yulia pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
She stood up, went into the bedroom, closed the door, and sat on the bed. She took out her phone and started looking up information about division of inheritance in a divorce.
The law was on her side. Inheritance was considered personal property and was not divided in a divorce. Yulia saved several articles and turned off her phone.
Maksim came into the bedroom an hour later. He sat down beside her and tried to hug her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just Mom and Katya…”
“Your mother and Katya want my money,” Yulia moved away. “And so do you.”
“No, that’s not true,” Maksim hesitated. “It’s just… well, we’re family. Families help each other.”
“When I asked for your help for three years, where was this family?” Yulia turned to him. “When your mother humiliated me, where were you?”
Maksim was silent.
“Exactly,” Yulia said, standing up. “You can all go to hell with your requests.”
The tension grew over the next few days. Anna Ivanovna called ten times a day. Ekaterina sent long messages about how hard her life was. Maksim walked around in a dark mood and barely spoke to his wife.
Yulia started looking for an apartment. She browsed listings and went to viewings. She found a great option: a three-room apartment in a new building with panoramic windows. She arranged a meeting with a realtor.
Maksim noticed the open tabs on her laptop.
“You’re looking at apartments?”
“Yes,” Yulia didn’t hide it. “I want to sell my aunt’s apartment and buy one closer in.”
“For us?” Maksim perked up.
“For myself,” Yulia said, closing the laptop.
Maksim frowned.
“What do you mean, for yourself?”
“Exactly what I said,” Yulia stood up and poured herself some water. “I’ll buy an apartment in my name.”
“Yulia, we’re husband and wife,” Maksim stepped closer. “Everything bought during marriage is shared.”
“Not everything,” Yulia said, drinking the water. “Inheritance is my personal property.”
“But you can’t just go and buy an apartment without me,” Maksim raised his voice.
“I can,” Yulia looked at him calmly. “And I will.”
Maksim grabbed her by the arm.
“Listen, maybe enough of these games? Let’s talk like normal people.”
Yulia pulled her arm free.
“What is there to talk about? You want my money. Your family wants my money. Everything is perfectly clear.”
“I don’t want your money!” Maksim slammed his fist on the table. “I want you to think about the family!”
“My inheritance is mine, not shared property!” Yulia raised her voice. “I’m reminding you, Maksim, that I alone have the right to decide what to do with it.”
Maksim froze. His face turned red, and the veins in his neck bulged.
“So you’ve decided everything on your own? Without me?”
“Yes,” Yulia nodded. “Exactly.”
“Fine,” Maksim turned away. “Then we’ll see what happens.”
That evening the whole family arrived. Anna Ivanovna, Ekaterina, and even Maksim’s uncle, whom Yulia had seen maybe three times in her life.
“Yulia, we need to have a serious talk,” Anna Ivanovna said, sitting at the head of the table like a board meeting chair.
Yulia stayed standing by the window.
“I’m listening.”
“Maksim told us about your decision to buy an apartment only in your name,” her mother-in-law said, folding her arms. “That’s wrong.”
“Why?” Yulia crossed her arms too.
“Because Maksim is your husband,” Ekaterina cut in. “You’re supposed to share everything equally.”
“Inheritance is not shared,” Yulia repeated. “By law.”
“Law is law,” Maksim’s uncle cleared his throat, “but there’s also such a thing as conscience.”
Yulia laughed.
“Conscience? Seriously? For three years you all bullied me, and now you’re talking about conscience?”
“No one bullied you!” Anna Ivanovna jumped up. “We were raising you! Teaching you how to be a proper wife!”
“Raising me,” Yulia nodded. “By criticizing every step I took. By saying I was bad. That I wasn’t worthy of your son.”
“You made all that up!” her mother-in-law threw up her hands.
“Made it up?” Yulia pulled out her phone. “Do you want me to read your messages aloud? The ones where you call me useless, lazy, selfish?”
Anna Ivanovna went pale. Ekaterina stared at the floor.
“Exactly,” Yulia put the phone away. “And now that there’s money involved, suddenly you remember family. Convenient.”
“Maksim, say something to her!” Anna Ivanovna turned to her son.
Maksim was sitting on the couch in silence. Yulia looked at her husband and saw cold calculation in his eyes.
“Yulia,” Maksim finally said, “you’re obligated to share. It’s only fair.”
“Fair?” Yulia stepped closer. “Where was fairness when I was the only one paying for the apartment? For groceries? For everything?”
“I worked!” Maksim jumped to his feet.
“And spent everything on yourself,” Yulia didn’t back down. “On your entertainment, on gifts for your mother and sister. And not a penny for shared expenses.”
“Because your salary was higher!” Maksim shouted.
“So what?” Yulia stared at him. “Does that mean I’m supposed to pay for everything? And you have the right to contribute nothing?”
“Enough! Your husband gave you a roof over your head!” Anna Ivanovna stepped between them. “Yulia, you are destroying the family!”
“I’m not the one destroying it,” Yulia answered calmly. “You are. With your greed.”
Ekaterina burst into tears.
“I asked for help! I really need money!”
“For a new car?” Yulia turned to her. “That’s not ‘needing money.’ That’s ‘wanting something at someone else’s expense.’”
“You’re heartless,” Ekaterina sobbed. “A cold snake.”
“Maybe,” Yulia shrugged. “But a snake with her own money.”
Anna Ivanovna clutched at her chest.
“My blood pressure is rising! Maksim, call an ambulance!”
“No need for an ambulance,” Yulia walked to the door. “You all need to leave. Now.”
“What?!” her mother-in-law stared at her. “You’re throwing us out?”
“Yes,” Yulia said, opening the door. “Right now.”
“Maksim!” Anna Ivanovna looked at her son. “Are you going to let her?”
Maksim stood up and walked over to Yulia.
“You’ve gone too far.”
“No,” Yulia looked him in the eye. “You have gone too far. Thinking you can decide what happens to my money.”
“I’m your husband,” Maksim clenched his jaw. “I have a right—”
“You have no right to my inheritance,” Yulia cut him off. “None. By law.”
Maksim grabbed her by the shoulders.
“You’ll regret this.”
“Let go,” Yulia tore herself free. “Right now.”
Anna Ivanovna let out a dramatic wail.
“My God, what is happening! Maksim, we’re leaving! We’re clearly not welcome here!”
The whole family moved toward the door. Ekaterina was the last to leave. She turned around and said:
“You’ll end up all alone. Completely alone.”
“Better alone than with you,” Yulia said, and shut the door.
Maksim remained in the apartment. He stomped from room to room, slammed doors, cursed. Yulia packed a bag. Documents, clothes, laptop.
“What are you doing?” Maksim asked, stopping in the bedroom doorway.
“Packing,” Yulia said, zipping the bag.
“Where are you going?” Maksim stepped inside.
“To a hotel,” Yulia lifted the bag. “And tomorrow, to a lawyer.”
“To a lawyer?” Maksim went pale. “Why?”
“To file for divorce,” Yulia walked past him.
Maksim grabbed her by the hand.
“Wait! Let’s talk about this!”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yulia pulled free. “We’ve already discussed everything.”
“Yulia, don’t do this!” Maksim went after her. “I didn’t mean it like this! Mom just—”
“Your mother showed me exactly who you are,” Yulia stopped at the door. “A man who never defended me. Who stayed silent while I was humiliated. Who wanted my money the moment it appeared.”
“That’s not true,” Maksim tried to hug her.
Yulia stepped back.
“Goodbye, Maksim.”
She walked out without looking back. She got into a taxi and gave the driver the address of a hotel. She looked out the window and felt a strange sense of relief.
The divorce was finalized in two months. Maksim tried to get part of the money through the court. He hired a lawyer, gathered documents, and argued that the money should be divided.
Yulia sat in the courtroom and listened as her ex-husband lied. He claimed they had planned together to buy an apartment. That the money had been shared. That Yulia had stolen his future.
The judge listened to both sides and asked for documents. Yulia presented the will, the inheritance certificate, and bank statements.
“Inheritance received by one spouse during marriage is that spouse’s personal property and is not subject to division,” the judge read from the ruling. “The claim is denied.”
Maksim went pale. Yulia stood up and walked out of the courtroom.
She bought the apartment a week after the divorce. A bright three-bedroom place on the twentieth floor overlooking the river. Panoramic windows, a modern layout, no furniture. Yulia ordered a design project and chose everything herself, from the wall colors to the shape of the door handles.
She also bought a dacha. A small wooden house outside the city, with a plot of land and an apple orchard. A place where she could breathe deeply and not hear anyone else’s voice.
Anna Ivanovna tried calling for the first few months. Yulia didn’t answer. Then her former mother-in-law sent a long message saying Yulia had ruined her son’s life. That Maksim was suffering. That Yulia was a heartless egotist.
Yulia deleted the message without finishing it.
Ekaterina wrote six months later. She asked to borrow money and promised to repay it. Yulia blocked the number.
Maksim tried to meet with her. He wrote that he understood everything now, that he was ready to change. Yulia didn’t answer.
A year passed. Yulia stood on the balcony of her new apartment, drinking morning coffee. The city was waking up below, flooded with sunlight. Quiet. Peaceful. No one criticizing her, demanding things, or laying claim to what was hers.
Her phone vibrated. An unknown number. Yulia answered.
“Hello?”
“Yulia? It’s Maksim,” her ex-husband’s voice sounded tired. “I’m calling from another phone, sorry.”
“What do you want?” Yulia took a sip of coffee.
“I… wanted to apologize,” Maksim hesitated. “For everything. For my mother, for Katya, for myself.”
“All right,” Yulia nodded, though he couldn’t see her. “Apology accepted.”
“And I wanted to ask… maybe we could meet? Talk?” his voice turned pleading. “I’ve really changed.”
Yulia looked at the city, the river, the clouds.
“No, Maksim,” she said calmly. “We won’t meet. Good luck to you.”
She hung up. Blocked the number. Finished her coffee. It was time for work. Not the old job where she stayed late just to avoid going back to a чужая apartment. But a new one, where she was valued, where she was paid well, where no one called during work hours to complain.
That evening Yulia drove out to the dacha. She walked through the garden and looked at the apple trees. The first blossoms had already appeared. By summer there would be fruit.
She sat on the veranda, wrapped herself in a blanket, and opened a book she had long wanted to read but had never had time for. She read until dark, until she could no longer make out the letters.
Then she went inside and lit the fireplace. She sat there looking at the flames and thinking about Aunt Lyuda. Thank you. For everything. For the money, of course. But most of all, for the lesson. For the understanding that not everyone should be endured. That not everyone deserves your time and energy.
That sometimes you simply have to say “no” and walk away.
And keep living. Your own life. On your own terms. At your own expense.
Without those who thought you were worthless until you had money.
If you want, I can also make this sound more natural and polished for a story translation rather than strictly literal.
