“You belong at the stove; you’re not capable of anything more,” her husband humiliated her in front of the guests, but she didn’t let him get away with it.

Natalya wiped her hands on a towel and looked over the table with a critical eye. Roasted veal with apples, shrimp salad, tuna tartare, homemade pâté, three kinds of appetizers. The table setting was flawless: the white tablecloth she had carefully ironed, crystal glasses inherited from her grandmother, candles in silver candlesticks. Igor had ordered […]

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“Yeah, my dear brother gets the apartment, and I get the debts?” I couldn’t take it anymore and slammed my hand down on the notary’s desk.

The notary adjusted his glasses and looked down at the documents again. I stared at his neat hands with their well-groomed nails and thought of my mother’s hands — worn from work, always calloused, with broken nails. She never painted them. She used to say, “It’ll peel off at the dacha anyway.” At the dacha. […]

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