Yulia was checking the luggage when her phone rang. The name on the screen was Tamara Nikolayevna, the neighbor from the third floor.
“Yulenka, good evening. I’m sorry to bother you. Are you home?”
“No, Tamara Nikolayevna, Denis and I went away for the weekend. What happened?”
“It’s just that some woman went into your apartment. I thought maybe you had given someone permission…”
Yulia frowned.
“A woman? What kind of woman?”
“Elderly, heavyset. She had keys.”
Yulia’s heart skipped a beat. Raisa Petrovna.
“Tamara Nikolayevna, that’s my mother-in-law. Tell me, is she alone?”
“Yes, alone. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”
“Thank you for warning me. If you see anything strange, please call me.”
Yulia put the phone away and turned to her husband.
“Your mother is in our apartment.”
Denis looked up from his newspaper.
“In our apartment? Why?”
“That’s exactly what’s strange. Where did she get the keys?”
He shrugged.
“Maybe she found the spare ones somewhere.”
“Denis, the spare keys are with my parents. Did you give them to her?”
“No!” he raised his hands. “I didn’t even know she was going there.”
Yulia took out her phone and dialed her mother-in-law’s number. Raisa Petrovna did not answer.
“Strange,” she muttered.
“Oh, come on,” Denis returned to his newspaper. “Maybe she dropped by to water the flowers.”
“Your mother has never watered my flowers.”
“Well, maybe this is the first time.”
Yulia wanted to object, but changed her mind. Maybe it really was nothing serious. Still, the uneasy feeling remained.
Raisa Petrovna had been acting suspiciously for the past month. More and more often, she brought up the furniture in Yulia’s apartment.
“What a beautiful sofa you have,” she would say, running her hand over the leather upholstery. “It must have been expensive.”
“Just an ordinary one,” Yulia would answer.
“I’d like one like that… But where would I get the money? My pension is pennies.”
Denis would immediately cut in.
“Mom, you know we’ll help when we can.”
“When you can,” his mother would sigh. “And what am I supposed to sleep on? That broken-down old cot?”
Yulia stayed silent. She remembered perfectly well how, a month earlier, she had offered to help her mother-in-law choose an inexpensive sofa. Raisa Petrovna had waved it off.
“Why would I need a new one? Give me that one over there. You already have two.”
“We have one sofa and two armchairs,” Yulia answered calmly.
“So what? That’s enough for you.”
“Raisa Petrovna, I need this furniture.”
Her mother-in-law turned crimson.
“Greedy! I knew it! You don’t care that an old woman sleeps on junk?”
“I’m sorry about that. But I bought this furniture with my own money for my own apartment.”
“My own, my own! Everything is yours! And what is your son to you? A tenant?”
Denis, as always, said nothing. He sat there, buried in his phone, pretending not to hear.
After that conversation, Raisa Petrovna did not call for a week. Then she reappeared as if nothing had happened, but the coldness in her voice was unmistakable.
The bus arrived in the neighboring city late in the evening. Yulia and Denis checked into a hotel and went to bed. In the morning, they planned to walk around the city and visit a museum.
At eleven o’clock at night, the phone rang again. Tamara Nikolayevna.
“Yulia!” the neighbor’s voice was trembling. “Your mother-in-law broke down the door and is dragging out the furniture! Come quickly before she takes everything!”
Yulia sat up in bed so abruptly that Denis woke up.
“What?! Tamara Nikolayevna, are you sure?”
“I can see it with my own eyes! She hired movers! They’ve already carried out the sofa!”
“Call the police! Immediately!”
“I thought maybe you had allowed it…”
“I didn’t allow anything! This is theft!”
Yulia ended the call and rushed to her bag.
“Denis, your mother is taking the furniture out of the apartment!”
“What?” he blinked. “What furniture?”
“All of it! Tamara Nikolayevna says there are movers there!”
Denis turned pale.
“Maybe she was joking?”
“Denis!” Yulia turned sharply toward him. “Your mother spent a month begging for the sofa! And now she’s simply taking it!”
“But… how did she get in?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out!”
Yulia grabbed her phone and called the police. She explained the situation to the duty officer and gave the address.
“We’re on our way,” a male voice said. “Stay on the line.”
The next three hours dragged on endlessly. They sat in a taxi racing back to the city, while Yulia called Tamara Nikolayevna every five minutes.
“The police have arrived,” the neighbor reported. “They stopped the movers. Your mother-in-law is shouting that she has the right.”
“What right?! It’s my apartment!”
“She says her son gave permission.”
Yulia glanced at Denis. He was staring out the window, his fists clenched.
“Denis, did you promise her something?”
“No! I didn’t know anything!”
“Then where did she get the keys?”
He was silent.
“Denis!”
“I don’t know,” he said without taking his eyes off the window. “Maybe she copied them at some point.”
Yulia leaned back against the seat. Everything inside her was boiling, but she forced herself to breathe evenly.
When they reached the house, two police officers, Raisa Petrovna, and two movers were standing on the landing. In the middle of the hallway stood the bulky sofa.
“There’s the owner!” her mother-in-law jabbed a finger at Yulia. “It’s her own fault! She’s greedy!”
“Raisa Petrovna, you entered my apartment illegally,” Yulia said calmly, although her hands were trembling.
“Illegally?! This is my son’s apartment!”
“No. This is my apartment. I have documents.”
One of the officers turned to Yulia.
“Can you show them?”
“Of course.”
She went into the apartment. The lights were on, the wardrobe doors were wide open. Raisa Petrovna had clearly been rummaging through things.
Yulia took the folder of documents from the safe and returned to the hallway.
“Here. Certificate of ownership. The apartment is registered only in my name.”
The officer carefully examined the paper.
“I see. Ma’am,” he said, turning to Raisa Petrovna, “did you enter someone else’s home without the owner’s permission?”
“What do you mean, someone else’s?” her mother-in-law waved her arms. “My son lives here!”
“Is your son registered here?” the officer looked at Yulia.
“No,” she answered.
“But we’re married!” Denis intervened. “For five years!”
“That does not give you rights to your wife’s apartment,” the officer explained. “If she acquired it before the marriage.”
Raisa Petrovna went pale.
“Well… But the furniture… The furniture can be taken!”
“What furniture?” Yulia crossed her arms over her chest.
“That!” her mother-in-law pointed at the sofa. “You don’t need it!”
“I need it very much. I bought it with my own money.”
“Denis!” his mother turned to him. “Tell her! You promised!”
Everyone turned to Denis. He stood with his head lowered.
“Mom, I didn’t promise anything,” he said quietly.
“How did you not promise?! You said yourself that you would give me the sofa!”
“I said we’d think about it…”
“You’re lying!” Raisa Petrovna stamped her foot. “You promised! You said Yulka was greedy, but you would persuade her!”
Silence fell. Yulia slowly turned to her husband.
“Did you say that?”
Denis swallowed convulsively.
“Yul, well… Mom is exaggerating…”
“I am not exaggerating!” his mother clutched her son’s arm. “You promised to help me! You said the apartment was ours together!”
“Mom, shut up,” Denis tried to pull away.
“I will not shut up! I’m old and sick! I have nowhere to put furniture! And this one…” she pointed at Yulia, “is bathing in luxury!”
Yulia took out her phone.
“I want to file a report,” she said to the officers. “For illegal entry and attempted theft.”
“What?!” Raisa Petrovna clutched her heart. “What report?! I’m your mother-in-law!”
“You are an outsider who entered my apartment without permission.”
“Denis!” his mother tugged at his sleeve. “Tell her!”
Denis said nothing.
“Ma’am, you need to return the furniture to its place and leave the apartment,” the officer said. “Otherwise, there really will be a formal report.”
Raisa Petrovna opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked at Yulia with such hatred that Yulia involuntarily stepped back.
“Fine,” her mother-in-law hissed. “Movers, bring it back in.”
The men reluctantly lifted the sofa and dragged it back into the apartment.
Raisa Petrovna walked past Yulia, shoving her shoulder.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed.
When the movers left and the police drove away, Yulia locked the door and turned to her husband.
“Explain.”
Denis sank onto the sofa, the same one that had almost been taken away an hour earlier.
“Mom asked for help. I said I’d think about it.”
“And she decided that meant permission to carry out all the furniture?”
“She… exaggerated my words.”
“Denis, she called me greedy. And you didn’t object.”
He looked up.
“Yul, try to understand. She lives alone, with old junk. And everything here is new…”
“Bought with my money!”
“Yes! So what? We’re family! We should share!”
Yulia sat down opposite him.
“Family shares willingly. It doesn’t steal furniture at night.”
“She wasn’t stealing. She thought she had the right.”
“The right?!” Yulia laughed. “Where did she get the right to my property?”
“Well, I’m her son…”
“So what?”
Denis clenched his fists.
“So she’s a stranger to you?”
“No. But she has no right to dispose of my things.”
“Your things! Everything is yours! The apartment is yours, the furniture is yours! And who am I?”
Yulia tiredly rubbed her forehead.
“You are my husband. But I received the apartment before the marriage, and I bought the furniture with my own money.”
“And you remind me of that every chance you get!”
“I remind you when your mother interferes with my property!”
They sat opposite each other, and a chasm grew between them.
“You know what, Denis,” Yulia stood up. “I’m tired of this. Your mother tried to steal my furniture. And you’re defending her.”
“I’m not defending her! I just understand her!”
“You understand theft?”
“This isn’t theft! It’s… she thought she could!”
“On what basis?”
Denis jumped up.
“On the basis that I’m her son! And I’m supposed to help!”
“Helping is one thing. Robbing your wife is another.”
“Nobody robbed you!”
“Oh, really?” Yulia pointed toward the door. “So the police were here by accident?”
Denis clenched his jaw.
“Mom went too far. But you could have understood her situation.”
“I did. I offered to help her choose furniture. She refused and demanded mine.”
“So what? You can buy a new one!”
“I don’t want a new one. I want mine.”
Denis waved his hand.
“It’s impossible to talk to you.”
He went into the bedroom and slammed the door.
Yulia sank onto the sofa and closed her eyes. Blood was pounding in her temples.
Five years of marriage. Five years of enduring her mother-in-law’s antics, her husband’s silence, the constant attempts to get into her wallet and her life.
And today it had become clear: nothing would ever change. Denis would always be on his mother’s side. He would always justify her, cover for her, protect her.
Even when she entered someone else’s apartment and carried out the furniture.
The next morning, Yulia woke up early. Denis was still asleep. She quietly got dressed, left the apartment, and went to a hardware store. She bought new locks and called a locksmith.
When she returned, Denis was sitting in the kitchen with coffee.
“Where did you disappear to?”
“I’m changing the locks.”
He choked.
“What?!”
“Your mother somehow got the keys. I don’t want a repeat.”
“Yulia, are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“But… what about me?”
Yulia took keys out of her bag and placed them on the table.
“Here are the new ones for you. But only if you make a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Either you condemn your mother’s actions in front of her. Publicly. And set boundaries. Or you leave.”
Denis turned pale.
“You want me to choose between you and my mother?”
“No. I want you to choose between family and enabling rudeness.”
“She is my mother!”
“So what? Does that give her the right to steal?”
Denis stood up so sharply that the chair fell over.
“That’s it! I’ve had enough! I’m tired of your accusations!”
“Denis, she carried the sofa out of the apartment!”
“Because she has nothing! Because she’s poor! And you don’t want to share!”
“Share what is mine, what I earned?”
“Yes!” he jabbed a finger at her. “You’re selfish! You only live for yourself!”
Yulia nodded slowly.
“I see.”
She turned around, went into the bedroom, and took a large bag from the closet.
“What are you doing?” Denis appeared in the doorway.
“Packing your things.”
“What do you mean?”
“You made your choice. I accepted it.”
She methodically packed his shirts, jeans, and socks into the bag.
“Yulia, stop!”
“No.”
“But… we’re husband and wife!”
“We were.”
Denis grabbed her arm.
“You can’t kick me out!”
Yulia pulled free.
“I can. This is my apartment.”
“We’ve been married for five years!”
“So what? The apartment was mine before the marriage. You have no rights to it.”
Denis opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he turned and walked out.
Yulia finished packing his things and carried the bag into the entryway. An hour later, the locksmith arrived. He changed the locks on the front door.
Denis sat in the kitchen, staring at his phone.
When the locksmith left, Yulia held out the keys to her husband.
“You can take your bag.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, not taking the keys.
“Then I’ll call the police.”
“What police?! I’m your husband!”
“You are not registered in my apartment and you have no rights to it.”
Denis jumped up.
“To hell with you!”
He grabbed the bag and left, slamming the door.
Yulia stood in the entryway, listening to his footsteps on the stairs.
Then there was silence.
She went into the living room and sat on the sofa. The very sofa that had started it all.
Her phone vibrated. A message from Raisa Petrovna:
“Happy now? You kicked out my son!”
Yulia deleted the message and blocked the number.
Then she called her mother.
“Mom? Can I come over?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Did something happen?”
“We’re getting divorced.”
A pause.
“Come over. We’ll talk.”
Yulia put the phone away and looked around the apartment. Her apartment. The place where no one would get into her things anymore, carry out her furniture, or count her money.
Five years of marriage had ended with an attempted theft.
But better that than living with a man who saw no boundaries and could not say no to his mother.
Yulia stood up, straightened her shoulders, and exhaled.
Life went on. Without Denis, without Raisa Petrovna, without scandals.
And that was good.
