Lena rarely brought work home, but the end of the month was approaching, and she needed to pick up the pace. On top of that, a lingering cold had thrown off her reporting deadlines. So there she was, sitting at her school-age son’s desk, going through work documents.
“All right, just a little longer and then vacation,” she muttered. “My son and I will go to the seaside. I’ll forget about work, and he’ll forget that his final school year is ahead and that exams are waiting for him.”
She returned to checking invoices.
But she didn’t get much work done. Suddenly, the doorbell rang—loudly, insistently, as if whoever stood outside knew for certain that Lena was home. She flinched, set the papers aside, and went to answer.
Her son was visiting his grandmother. She wasn’t expecting any deliveries. So hearing the bell at that hour felt strange, even a little frightening.
“Who is it?”
“It’s someone you know. Open up,” a woman’s voice answered.
Lena looked through the peephole. A blonde woman stood outside, and there was something vaguely familiar about her.
“Well, at least it’s not a man. Seems safe enough,” Lena thought, and opened the door.
Looking closer, she realized who it was: Katya, the new girlfriend of Igor, Lena’s ex-husband. Tall, with aggressively bright lipstick and an expensive coat that, Lena silently noted, clearly didn’t match Igor’s income.
And what on earth had brought her here at this hour?
“What do I owe the pleasure?” Lena asked coldly, without inviting her in.
“A good evening to you too,” Katya snorted, peering into the apartment. “I brought a cake. Will you offer me tea?”
“It’s late. I have to get up early tomorrow. So I can give you exactly three minutes of my precious time,” Lena replied dryly.
She didn’t care that they were standing in the hallway. She didn’t care if the neighbors heard. After the divorce, it felt as though she had already survived the worst and had nothing left to fear.
“Well, since you’re so poorly mannered, I’ll get straight to the point,” Katya said without hesitation. “I need the keys to the apartment in Sochi. Igor has vacation in June, and I’m a freelance artist, so I can stay there on my own until August. Basically, I’m warning you in advance: the apartment is occupied for June and July.”
Lena stared at her, trying to process what she had just heard. Then she burst out laughing.
For a moment, she had a powerful urge to put the cake on Katya’s head, just so the guest could appreciate its flavor with every fiber of her soul.
“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Katya said. “So I don’t have to come here twice, let’s do this right now. It’s possible I’ll be able to get tickets for the end of May and prepare the apartment before my husband arrives.”
“You got married? Congratulations,” Lena said, ignoring the rest.
“Almost.”
“I didn’t know one could get married ‘almost.’ In any case, your three minutes are up. Excuse me,” Lena said with a smirk, moving to close the door.
But Katya planted her foot on the threshold, blocking it.
“This conversation is not over! I’m not leaving without the keys!” she snapped, grabbing the door.
“Why should I give you the keys? Who are you, exactly? And what do you think you’re doing?” Lena exclaimed, finally losing patience.
“I’m almost Igor’s wife! And we have a right to that apartment!”
“No, you don’t!” Lena pulled the door toward herself, but Katya yanked the handle back. From the outside, it must have looked almost comical—like a tug-of-war.
“Yes, we do! Because Igor worked for that apartment too! Just like you did! Actually, more than you did! It’s marital property!” Katya shouted, her eyes flashing.
Igor and Lena had lived together for almost twenty years. During their marriage, they had managed to build a life: they had a son, watched him grow, bought a small garden plot outside the city, and even purchased a car so they could drive there.
The country plot had been Igor’s idea. Lena had never liked all that “working the land” business. She would have much preferred walking in the park near home or doing handicrafts. But dear Igor loved digging in the soil, trying to grow tomatoes that, for some mysterious reason, always turned black and spoiled.
Those tomatoes, and the garden itself, became a constant source of tension between them.
One day, tired of spending her vacations bent over garden beds, Lena told her husband she didn’t want to do it anymore.
“I’m tired, Igor. Go without me.”
After that, they simply began spending their free time separately. Igor went to the garden, fished, grew weeds, and fussed over his doomed tomatoes. Lena started selling little outfits for dogs and took walks in the park.
Their son was already old enough to decide for himself whether he wanted to spend weekends with his father or his mother.
Different interests, less and less time together, a nearly grown son, and many other little things eventually led to one simple truth: there was nothing left between them.
In an attempt to bring some warmth back into the marriage, Lena decided to go on a seaside vacation with her husband. They rented an apartment and, to her surprise, had a pretty good time.
In fact, Lena liked it so much that she became excited by an idea.
“Igorek, let’s buy an apartment in Sochi,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to come to our own place? Not pay someone else rent? And when we’re not there, we could rent it out.”
“Lena, have you lost your mind? Who’s going to look after that apartment? Who’s going to clean it after guests?”
“I got the contact details of the woman who rented this place to us. I discussed everything with her. She even suggested an option: her friend is selling a studio apartment.”
“Then why doesn’t she buy it herself if it’s such a profitable deal?” Igor asked, raising an eyebrow.
“She doesn’t have the money. Everything is going toward her son’s education and her sick father.”
“Sure. I know these scams.”
“It’s not a scam! I consulted a lawyer. He checked the documents. The deal is clean. The woman really does have difficulties and urgently needs money. She wants to sell it to decent people. People like us.”
“And where are you planning to get the money?”
“I’ll use my inheritance savings.”
“We were going to upgrade the car!” Igor darkened. “And renovate the apartment.”
“We can renovate slowly. There’s no rush. And the car still runs. No, Igor, I want that studio in Sochi. It’s an investment in real estate. In the future. Our son is growing up. A new car or fresh wallpaper won’t give him anything, but an apartment is an asset.”
Despite her husband’s protests, Lena remained firm. She calculated that the investment would pay for itself in a few years and then start bringing in profit.
Part of the money came from Lena’s personal savings—her salary was three times higher than Igor’s. But the decisive factor was the sale of property that had belonged to Lena’s grandmother. The proceeds went toward buying the apartment.
Igor only grumbled and criticized her, although he himself had never known how to save money or plan a budget.
But Lena stopped listening to him altogether. In the end, they argued so badly that Igor refused to go with her to receive the keys and spent the entire vacation at the garden instead.
Sitting on the balcony of the studio in Sochi, after yet another failed attempt to reach her husband by phone, Lena suddenly realized that she no longer wanted to call him. She was perfectly fine on her own, sipping local wine and watching the sunset in peaceful solitude.
When she returned earlier than planned and found out that her husband had taken up with Katya, the daughter of their garden neighbor, Lena immediately filed for divorce.
“Come on, Lena,” Igor said. “I was just offended that you ran off without me. I wanted to feel like a man. So we sat in the gazebo, grilled some shashlik… What’s the big deal?”
“Our son is grown now,” Lena replied. “I’m not going to tolerate your little adventures for his sake. And I’ve had that garden up to here, along with those neighbors who are too eager for other women’s husbands.”
Whether Igor realized Lena would never forgive him, or whether Katya really was unusually persistent, he didn’t argue much after that. A month later, the divorce was finalized.
They didn’t divide the property. Since the main funds for the Sochi apartment had come from the sale of Lena’s grandmother’s property, and since Lena’s contribution to the family budget had been far greater, the Moscow apartment and the Sochi apartment remained hers. By mutual agreement, Igor received the country house and the car.
Neither spouse had any claims against the other, and Lena breathed freely for six whole months.
Until spring arrived—and with it, the smell of approaching vacation.
“You don’t understand,” Katya continued, wedging her knee into the doorway and refusing to let Lena slam the door. “If you don’t give us the keys, I’ll file a lawsuit to challenge the agreement! I have proof that Igor also put money into that apartment. You also owe us half of the rental income you made over the past year!”
“What proof?” Lena asked with irony. “Grocery receipts?”
“Don’t laugh!” Katya snapped. “I know he gave you money for… for furniture.”
“No, he didn’t. I took five thousand rubles from his wallet myself. I spent it on a shoe cabinet. If you think it’s fair to demand that back, I’m ready to buy you the same one. With a written receipt. And now get out of my home. Or I’ll call the police,” Lena said through clenched teeth.
“Fine. Then I’ll forbid Igor from seeing your son. He’s very attached to his father, you know.”
Lena felt fury boiling inside her, but forced herself to keep her voice steady.
“You will not dare interfere in our family or drag my son into this. Otherwise, I will find a way to deal with you.”
“Oh, I will dare. Igor will do whatever I tell him to do. He loves me.”
“Igor loves only himself and his tomatoes,” Lena replied sharply. “And I doubt he’ll let you manipulate him at the expense of his own child. Threatening to cut off contact with a child is not an argument. It’s a legal violation.”
For a second, Katya looked thrown off, but she quickly recovered.
“Fine,” she hissed. “Then I’ll tell everyone what you really are. That you threw Igor out, robbed him blind—”
“Go ahead. I’ll even give you a list of people to tell,” Lena interrupted. “Just don’t forget to mention that he used to burn through his salary in a week and then ask me for money for transport. And that he didn’t want to buy the Sochi apartment because he dreamed of a new car. He would never be able to buy one himself because he earns peanuts. He was counting on my money so he could show off in front of you, darling. But now, sorry to disappoint you, you’ll have to ride around in an old foreign car, since you miscalculated and picked the wrong man. My sympathies, sweetheart. At least I got a son out of Igor. He can offer you nothing except his ‘assets’—and he definitely doesn’t plan on having more children. So enjoy growing tomatoes with him until you lose your mind. In the Moscow region. Sochi is doing perfectly well without you.”
“You… you’re a beast!”
“I’m a realist,” Lena said calmly. “And I protect my interests and my son’s interests. Now leave my apartment and don’t show up here again. I have all the documents proving my rights to the Sochi apartment, which will eventually pass to my son as his inheritance. The court proceedings are already over, and my ex-husband signed all the papers stating that he has no claims against me. I don’t think he’ll try to strip his own son of his inheritance. Especially not for you—a completely ordinary, utterly unremarkable, vulgar little schemer.”
Katya opened her mouth to say something, but apparently realized the balance was not in her favor. She snorted, turned around, and headed for the exit.
“You’ll regret this!” she threw over her shoulder.
“I doubt it,” Lena answered, closing the door behind the uninvited guest.
Once inside, the first thing Lena did was beat a pillow. Her hands were shaking, but deep inside, she felt relief.
She had defended her right to peace and safety.
A few minutes later, her phone rang. It was Igor.
She didn’t want to answer, so she declined the call.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was planning this,” a message came almost immediately.
“Next time, think about who you get involved with,” Lena replied, then turned off her phone.
She went to the kitchen, drank a cup of chamomile tea, and finally calmed down.
Ahead of her were warm May days and a vacation in that very apartment in Sochi.
Now she could be sure of one thing: no one would ruin her and her son’s rest.
Not for anything in the world.