“Why should I move out? This is my apartment!” Vera stood in the middle of her own living room, staring at the suitcases that were already being carried into the house.
Her husband’s pregnant sister shifted awkwardly by the door, stroking her rounded belly. Meanwhile, her mother-in-law confidently commanded the movers, pointing out where to put the things.
“Don’t make a scene,” Galina Petrovna snapped. “Lena is having a hard time right now. She needs peace and quiet. You do understand that a pregnant woman mustn’t be upset, don’t you?”
Vera looked over at her husband. Sergey was standing by the window, stubbornly staring at something outside. He was silent, avoiding her gaze.
And that was when she understood: the decision had been made without her. In her own apartment, bought with her own money, her opinion meant absolutely nothing.
Vera had met Sergey at a corporate party hosted by mutual acquaintances. By then, she had already been working for several years as a financial analyst at a large company and had managed to buy a two-room apartment with a mortgage.
“You’re so independent,” Sergey admired her on their first dates. “Not every woman can handle a mortgage on her own.”
“I’m used to relying only on myself,” Vera would say with a smile, remembering the sleepless nights spent over reports and the vacations she had given up for the sake of bonuses.
After the wedding, Sergey moved in with her. Officially, the apartment remained solely her property, but Vera never emphasized that fact.
“We’re a family now,” she would say. “What difference does it make whose name the property is registered under?”
Her relationship with her mother-in-law had been tense from the very beginning. Galina Petrovna lived in a small settlement two hours away from the city, in an old house without modern conveniences. She often complained about the lack of a proper hospital nearby and the bad roads, but she flatly refused to move to the city. She did not want to abandon her household and vegetable garden.
At their very first meeting, Galina Petrovna declared:
“Sergey, I hope you haven’t forgotten about your sister. Lena won’t survive without you. She’s so fragile.”
Her husband’s younger sister really was the complete opposite of Vera. At twenty-eight, she had changed jobs a dozen times, lived off her parents’ money, and was constantly getting herself into trouble.
When Lena announced that she was pregnant and the child’s father disappeared, Galina Petrovna threw a real hysterical fit.
“We have to help her! She’ll be left all alone with a baby!”
At first, Vera sincerely felt sorry for her relative and even sent her money for baby things. But soon she noticed that help was beginning to turn into an obligation, and there was no gratitude to be expected.
One evening, Sergey sat down beside Vera on the sofa. She immediately felt that an unpleasant conversation was coming. Her husband fidgeted for a long time, then finally said:
“It’s hard for Lena to live alone in a rented apartment. The landlady is constantly picking on her, the neighbors are noisy…”
“And what are you suggesting?” Vera asked warily.
“She shouldn’t be nervous right now. Maybe we could help her?”
Vera put her book aside and looked carefully at her husband.
“Help her how, exactly?”
“Well… she could stay with us for a while. Just temporarily.”
“We only have two rooms, Seryozha. Where is she supposed to sleep? In the kitchen?”
Her husband waved his hand irritably and got up from the sofa.
“I thought you would understand. She’s pregnant!”
For several days, the subject was not brought up again. Vera decided the conversation was over and that Sergey had understood her position. How wrong she was.
On Friday evening, she came home earlier than usual. There were suitcases and boxes in the hallway. The door swung open, and her mother-in-law came in with Lena.
“Oh, Vera, you’re already home,” Galina Petrovna stated. “Help Lena unpack her things.”
“What is going on?” Vera felt the ground slipping from under her feet.
“What do you mean? Lena is moving in. Sergey said you had discussed everything.”
For the first time, Vera felt like a stranger in her own apartment. Her opinion had not even been asked.
Galina Petrovna quickly began behaving like the mistress of the house. The very next morning, she rearranged the furniture in the living room and hung some icons and pregnancy charms on the walls. Vera found her standing in the middle of the apartment in a housecoat, giving orders as if she had lived there for years.
“We’ll clear out the second room for Lena. She needs peace and her own space. You and Sergey can stay in the bedroom for now.”
Vera froze in the doorway, looking at her work desk, now covered with baby magazines.
“This is my office. I need somewhere to work from home.”
Her mother-in-law did not even turn toward her, continuing to arrange diapers on the shelves.
“You’ll manage. The pregnant woman is more important. You can sit at the kitchen table with your laptop.”
A few days later, Vera came home from work early. The stairwell smelled of her favorite perfume — the one she kept at home. As she climbed the stairs, she heard children’s laughter from a neighboring apartment and thought that soon the same sound would be coming from her own home. Only for some reason, she felt no joy.
The apartment was quiet, but voices were coming from the kitchen. The smell of borscht, which she could not stand, filled the hallway. Vera silently took off her shoes and stopped in the corridor when she heard her name.
“After the baby is born, Vera had better stay with her mother for a while,” her mother-in-law was saying, rattling the dishes. “A newborn mustn’t be shown to strangers for forty days. It’s an omen.”
“Mom, but Vera isn’t a stranger…” Sergey objected uncertainly. Vera recognized that tone — it was the tone he used when he was already prepared to give in.
“She is not a blood relative of the child. And omens must be respected. Think for yourself — the baby needs peace and quiet. Besides, Lena will need help around the clock.”
A spoon clinked against a glass. Sergey was stirring sugar into his tea.
“I don’t think she’ll agree to move out, even temporarily.”
“Where else will she go?” Galina Petrovna snorted. “She’s a woman. She should understand that a child is more important than her comfort. If she loves you, she’ll understand and accept it.”
Vera’s vision literally went dark. Cold sweat broke out on her back, and her hands began to tremble. She leaned against the wall, trying to comprehend what she had just heard. Her husband’s relatives were discussing how to evict her from her own apartment over a cup of tea, as if they were talking about rearranging furniture. And Sergey was not defending her — he was only wondering whether she would agree voluntarily.
That weekend, Galina Petrovna called a family council. Everyone gathered around the dining table: her mother-in-law sat enthroned at the head, Lena settled to her right, and Sergey sat across from Vera, avoiding her gaze.
Her mother-in-law cleared her throat solemnly and announced:
“As a family, we have thought it over and decided that it would be more convenient for Vera to stay with her parents for a while. Lena will give birth soon, and the baby needs a separate room. Besides, for the first forty days, a newborn must not be shown to strangers, only close relatives.”
Silence hung in the room. Lena looked at Vera defiantly. Sergey stared down at his plate.
Vera slowly got up, went to the dresser, and took out the folder of documents she had prepared in advance. Calmly, she returned to the table and placed the ownership certificate and the purchase agreement in front of everyone.
“Now listen carefully,” she said in an even, cold voice. “This apartment belongs to me. Completely. It was bought with my money before the marriage. And no one is going to make decisions for me.”
Her mother-in-law turned red with indignation.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? She’s pregnant! Don’t you have any conscience?”
“Then why doesn’t Lena live with you, Galina Petrovna?”
“You know what it’s like in my settlement! There isn’t even a proper maternity hospital there, only a rural clinic!” her mother-in-law exclaimed.
“But there is a house. Your own house. Yet for some reason, you want to solve your daughter’s problems at the expense of my apartment.”
Then Vera turned to her husband and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Sergey, now you choose. Either you stop this circus and your family leaves my apartment, or you pack your things along with them.”
Sergey opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.
And said nothing.
That answer was enough for her.
The next day, Vera filed for divorce. She acted decisively, without hesitation — she made an appointment with a lawyer and gathered all the necessary documents.
A week later, Sergey silently packed his things. The movers carried out the boxes, and not once did he try to talk, apologize, or at least explain himself. Lena left with him too. During the entire time she had lived there, she had never once thanked Vera.
For several more months, her mother-in-law tried to pressure her with pity. She called and wrote long messages:
“You destroyed the family! You threw a pregnant woman out onto the street! How do you sleep at night?”
“If I could take Lena in myself, I would! But you know there are no conditions for a baby in the settlement!”
But Vera no longer reacted. She blocked Galina Petrovna’s number and asked their mutual acquaintances not to pass along any messages.
Gradually, a bitter realization came to her: all this time, her husband’s relatives had seen her apartment as a convenient resource for solving their problems. And they had seen Vera herself as an obstacle standing in the way of that resource. Once access to the apartment ended, so did their showy concern for family values.
“You know, Mom,” she said to her mother over the phone, “I thought I was losing a family. But it turns out I never had one.”
Six months later, Vera accidentally ran into a mutual acquaintance at a café.
“Have you heard about Sergey?” the woman asked. “He’s renting a one-room apartment on the outskirts and working two jobs. Lena and the baby live there too. They say they’re barely making ends meet.”
Vera only nodded. She felt neither gloating nor pity.
Sometimes in the evening, she would sit in her kitchen with a cup of fragrant tea, look at the city lights outside the window, and think that she had lost a husband, but kept something far more important — her self-respect. Her apartment was orderly again, her things were back in their places, and no one gave orders in her home.
And every time she looked at the apartment documents in the safe, she understood: back then, she had made the only right decision. It was better to be alone in her own home than a stranger in her own life.
