“Turkey?” Lera stepped back as if she had been struck, unable to believe what she had just heard. “You and your mother are going together?”
Lyosha stood in the middle of the room with the expression of a man who genuinely could not understand why anyone was making a fuss. Calmly, he continued folding T-shirts into his suitcase.
“Yes. A last-minute deal. Just me and Mom!” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Lera sat on the edge of the sofa, wrapping her arms around herself. In that stuffy room with burgundy wallpaper, where every corner smelled of lavender and her mother-in-law’s mothballs, she suddenly felt unbearably cold.
That very morning, Lera had still believed that she and her husband were a team. They had planned everything together. Not long ago, they had taken out a mortgage and started a difficult renovation in their unfinished new apartment. To save forty thousand on rent, Lera had agreed to the most dreadful option of all: temporarily moving in with Elena Ivanovna, Alexey’s mother.
She endured the snide remarks. She endured the constant control. All for the sake of the future she and Lyosha were supposed to build together.
And now her husband was calmly announcing that he was flying to the seaside.
With his mommy.
What about the renovation? And where had the money come from?
“Lyosha, are you serious?” Lera’s voice trembled, but she forced herself to speak evenly. “You decided to go to a resort with your mother instead of helping me with the renovation?”
Alexey clicked his tongue in irritation and threw a pair of shorts into the suitcase.
“Lera, it’s just a trip! Mom is tired. It’s hard for her when there’s a stranger in the house around the clock. She needs a rest.”
“A stranger?” Lera’s eyes widened. Was that what she was to them now? A stranger? His legal wife, working herself to exhaustion remotely so they could escape this nightmare as soon as possible? “And where did you even get the money for the trip? Who’s going to supervise the construction crew?”
Lyosha smirked, looking down at her.
“You’ll supervise the workers. You’re not going anywhere! As for the money… I got a good bonus. I decided to help my mother. You didn’t consult me when you used the prenuptial agreement to put the new apartment only in your name, did you? So consider us even.”
Lera gasped with outrage. So that was it. He was taking revenge. Revenge for the one decision where she had actually stood her ground.
The Apartment Issue That Revealed the Truth
It had all started six months earlier, when Lera’s grandfather passed away. Andrey Petrovich had lived in his native village until his final breath and left his beloved granddaughter a sturdy house he had built with his own hands.
Back then, Lera and Lyosha, who were living paycheck to paycheck in a rented one-room apartment, realized this was their chance.
The village was far away, and there was no one to look after the property. At a family meeting, they decided to sell the house and use the money as a down payment on a mortgage. They managed to get one and a half million for it. A local farmer bought the land without hesitation.
“One and a half million isn’t much,” Lyosha had complained at the time, flipping through the documents. “But it’ll be enough for the down payment.”
That was when Lera went to see her mother, Anna Andreevna. A wise woman who had seen plenty of life, she looked at her daughter with narrowed eyes.
“You can sell your grandfather’s house,” her mother said, stroking an old photograph. “But only if the money goes toward something that belongs to you. Your husband has already bought himself a toy with your shared savings.”
And that was the bitter truth. Over three years of marriage, they had saved up a decent amount. Lyosha spent every last ruble of it on a used but impressive Audi. Registered in his own name, of course. “I drive every day, while you just work from home,” he had explained at the time.
So, in the bank office while arranging the mortgage, Lera took out her passport and said coldly, “We are signing a prenuptial agreement. The apartment will be registered only in my name.”
The money from selling her grandfather’s house covered the entire down payment. Lyosha had not contributed a single ruble.
He had raged then. He had slammed his fist on the table and shouted about mistrust. But he accepted it, because the bank required the paperwork to be settled anyway. And now, as it turned out, he had held on to his resentment, waiting for the right moment to strike back where it would hurt most.
The Shrine of Motherly Devotion
To save money faster for construction materials, Lyosha convinced Lera to move in with his mother. He promised it would only be for a couple of months.
Elena Ivanovna’s apartment greeted her daughter-in-law with silent hostility. The room given to the young couple was covered with photographs of dear little Lyosha: here he was in first grade, here he was at university, here he proudly stood beside his Audi.
Her mother-in-law never missed a chance to jab at her.
“Coffee?” Elena Ivanovna would sing sweetly in the mornings, placing exactly one cup on the table. For her son.
“Thank you, I’ll pour my own,” Lera would reply through clenched teeth.
“Son, eat some pies! Yours would never make anything like this for you. She just stares at that screen all day,” her mother-in-law continued in a syrupy voice.
When Lera, exhausted after a sleepless night working on the design project, reached for a pastry, Elena Ivanovna slapped her palm hard against the table.
“You need to lose weight! Lera, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror?”
“My weight is my own business,” Lera said, clenching her fists as heat rushed to her face.
“Of course, of course! Just like the new apartment!” her mother-in-law hissed venomously. “You put the apartment in your own name, but came running to your mother-in-law to save on utilities instead of going to your own mother!”
Lyosha did not care. He devoured his mother’s pies and waved everything off. In the evenings, Elena Ivanovna whispered into her son’s ear that Lera was a bad housewife, that she wasted money, and who knew who she was messaging on that internet of hers.
Betrayal to the Sound of Suitcase Wheels
And now there was this suitcase.
“Fine,” Lera said quietly, feeling the last thread connecting her to her husband snap inside her. “If you truly think it’s normal to leave me alone in cement dust and construction chaos… I won’t stop you.”
Lyosha froze for a second. Her dead calm clearly made him uncomfortable. But he said nothing and simply left the room.
In the morning, Lera woke to cheerful chirping from the kitchen. A little later, she heard movement in the hallway: Elena Ivanovna in a new blouse and Lyosha in summer shorts were already putting on their shoes, loudly discussing what kind of transfer would be waiting for them in Antalya.
There was not a trace of remorse on Alexey’s face. Only smug confidence.
“Lyosha!” Lera stepped into the hallway, clutching the edges of her robe. For one brief second, she wanted to scream, cry, cling to him. “Are you really leaving?”
He did not even turn around. He simply tied his sneakers. Elena Ivanovna, adjusting her hat, looked Lera up and down with contempt and smiled triumphantly.
The front door slammed shut.
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Lera was left alone in the apartment that smelled of old age. The red wallpaper pressed on her mind, and the air felt stale. Three years of a relationship. Hopes. Dreams of children.
He had traded it all for cheap revenge and a vacation with his mother.
She quickly threw her things into bags. That same evening, Lera was sitting in her mother’s kitchen. When Anna Andreevna heard the story about Turkey, she sank helplessly onto a chair.
“He left with his mother? Abandoned you with the renovation?” Her mother shook her head. “That is not normal, Lera. Not at all. But you know what they say about a wife’s influence over a man. Maybe you should call him and talk?”
Lera did not want to call. Her pride was screaming inside her. But somewhere deep down, a tiny spark of hope remained. What if he had already regretted it? What if he had realized how cruelly he had acted?
The next day, she dialed his number. Long rings. Call declined. Again, long rings. Declined.
An hour later, Lera’s phone came to life on its own. But the screen showed the name “Elena Ivanovna.” With her heart stopping in her chest, Lera answered.
“Lera, listen to me carefully,” her mother-in-law’s voice rang with metal and triumph. “Lyosha is resting right now. I don’t want you distracting him. Please don’t call him anymore!”
“What do you mean, don’t call?” Lera choked out. “Put him on the phone! I need to talk to him. It’s important!”
A clear laugh sounded through the speaker.
“Important? Important for you, maybe, but not for him! He is with me now. And I will not allow you to ruin his long-awaited vacation with your female tantrums!”
“I am not throwing a tantrum. I am his legal wife!” Lera shouted in despair.
“A wife is a temporary thing,” Elena Ivanovna snapped. “A mother is forever.”
The call ended.
At that moment, something clicked inside Lera. The hurt, pain, and despair all evaporated. Only a ringing, icy clarity remained. She suddenly understood that she would never again cry over this man.
The Return of the Prodigal Husband
Two weeks passed almost unnoticed. Lyosha and Elena Ivanovna burst back into the apartment, tanned, smelling of salty sea air and duty-free perfume.
“Oh, it’s so good to be home!” her mother-in-law announced loudly, dropping her suitcase. She spoke especially loudly so her daughter-in-law in the next room would definitely hear.
“Yes, we had a great trip!” Lyosha joined in, taking off his shoes. “Remember that blonde on the beach? Absolutely stunning! I don’t even know how someone can look that perfect in a swimsuit.”
“Yes, yes, son,” Elena Ivanovna giggled. “Girls like that always attract attention. And someone in this apartment could learn a thing or two about how a real man should look and what he deserves.”
They waited for a reaction. They waited for angry Lera to burst out of the room, start a scandal, or cry. Lyosha was ready to put his wife in her place with condescending calm.
But the apartment was deathly silent. There was no smell of food from the kitchen, no sign of Lera’s things on the coat rack.
Lyosha frowned. He took out his phone and called his wife.
Rings. Declined.
He called again. Subscriber unavailable.
“Maybe she’s at the apartment supervising the workers?” his mother-in-law snorted contemptuously, though confusion flickered in her voice.
Lyosha decided to be certain. He found his mother-in-law’s number in his contacts. Anna Andreevna answered after the first ring.
“Hello, Anna Andreevna, good afternoon, it’s Lyosha! Is Lera—”
A Cold Shower for Mama’s Boy
He did not get to finish. From the speaker came the calm, icy voice of his mother-in-law, with intonations that sounded painfully familiar to him.
“Alexey, listen to me carefully. Lera is resting right now. And I don’t want you distracting her. Please don’t call her anymore.”
Lyosha froze.
“What do you mean? Anna Andreevna, I need to talk to her. It’s important!”
A short laugh came through the phone.
“Really? Important? It is important to you, Alexey. But not to her. She has freed herself from unnecessary dead weight and is enjoying peace. Don’t ruin her life with your tantrums.”
Then came the short beeps of a disconnected call.
Lyosha stood in the hallway, red as a boiled lobster. Only then did he finally realize whose exact words his mother-in-law had just thrown back at him.
He rushed out of his mother’s apartment, jumped into his beloved Audi, and sped to Anna Andreevna’s house. He rang the doorbell, pounded on the door with his fist, and demanded to be let in.
The door opened. Lera stood on the threshold. She had lost weight and looked tired, but her gaze was harder than steel.
“Lera!” he breathed, trying to step inside. “What kind of circus are you and your mother putting on?”
She blocked his way.
“The circus flew to Turkey, Lyosha. But it seems the clowns have returned.”
Dividing Property Fairly
“I didn’t want to hurt you!” Alexey shouted. “It’s your own fault. You put the apartment in your name! I just wanted to teach you a lesson so you’d understand your place!”
Lera laughed sincerely, from the heart. There was not a trace of hysteria in her laughter.
“You taught me. Thank you. I understood everything perfectly, my dear Lyoshenka.”
She reached toward the small cabinet by the mirror, picked up a folded stack of papers, and placed them in her husband’s hands.
“What is this?” he asked, staring blankly at the heading.
“This is something that will protect you. Poor little you. Now no one will dare hurt you or force you to do renovations. It’s a copy of the divorce petition. I’ve filed for divorce.”
Lyosha turned pale.
“Lera… have you lost your mind? Over one trip?”
“And one more thing,” Lera said, tilting her head slightly and looking straight into his eyes. Her voice became dangerously quiet. “Our divorce will go through court. Because the only jointly acquired property we have is your precious car, bought during our marriage with our shared money. And half of its value will go straight into my renovation.”
Alexey’s eyes widened in horror.
His Audi.
The car he polished every weekend.
“You wouldn’t dare…” he whispered.
“Oh, I absolutely would, darling. Now go back to your mother. She missed you so much.”
The door closed softly but firmly right in front of his face.
Lyosha remained standing in the dusty stairwell with the papers in his hands. He suddenly understood very clearly: the vacations were over. Ahead of him were court hearings, the loss of his beloved car, and long, endless evenings listening to his mother complain about how ungrateful all daughters-in-law were.
And Lera, pouring herself a cup of hot tea, walked over to the window.
Ahead of her were a difficult renovation and mortgage payments. But for the first time in three years, she could breathe easily and freely.