Nina Sergeyevna took a step back and looked around her son’s room. The wall unit was in excellent condition, the desk did not have a single scratch, and the bed still had its orthopedic mattress. Artyom was leaving to study in two weeks, and the room was slowly turning into an empty museum of his childhood.
“Sell it,” her son said as he packed his belongings into a travel bag. “Otherwise, it’ll just sit here collecting dust. You can turn the room into an office or do whatever you like with it.”
Nina Sergeyevna ran her hand over the polished surface of the wall unit.
“It feels like a shame. We only bought it five years ago.”
“It’s a shame when you throw something away,” Artyom said with a smile. “This way, someone else will get some use out of it. List it at a reasonable price and it’ll sell quickly.”
She photographed the furniture from every angle, wrote an advertisement, and posted it on several online marketplaces. She set the price below market value because she wanted to clear the room as soon as possible and begin renovating.
The first response arrived two hours later.
“Hello, is this your advertisement? Is the furniture still available?” wrote a woman named Svetlana.
Nina Sergeyevna replied that it was.
“Could you tell me more about it? How old is the furniture? Why are you selling it? Are there any chips, cracks, or dents? Do the drawers open properly? Do the hinges squeak? Is the mattress included, or is it sold separately? And is delivery included in the price?”
Nina Sergeyevna patiently answered every question. The furniture was five years old, she was selling it because of the renovation, there were no chips, the drawers worked perfectly, the mattress was included, and delivery was the buyer’s responsibility.
“Could you send more photographs? Taken in daylight? And please put a ruler next to the furniture so I can understand the measurements.”
Nina Sergeyevna took more pictures. She included a ruler in the photographs. She photographed every corner, every shelf, and every hinge.
“Could you give me a discount? I have three children, and we live on my husband’s salary. We really need the furniture, but it’s a little expensive for us.”
“Artyom, the buyer is asking for a discount,” Nina Sergeyevna called out. “She says she has three children.”
“Give her a little one. No need to be greedy,” her son replied from the hallway. “It won’t make us poor.”
Nina Sergeyevna agreed to reduce the price by fifteen percent. The buyer thanked her, and they arranged to meet at six o’clock the following evening.
Svetlana arrived at half past six. She brought her husband, a large man with a permanently displeased expression, and two children: a boy of about seven and a younger girl.
“So this is the place?” the man said, glancing around the entrance hall. “Fifth floor and no elevator. Wonderful.”
“Come in,” Nina Sergeyevna said, stepping aside. “The furniture is in the room at the end of the hall.”
Svetlana was a thin woman of about thirty-five. She entered first, leaving the children in the hallway.
“Stay here and don’t touch anything,” she ordered them. “Especially you, Kirill. You’re always breaking things.”
Her husband, whose name Nina Sergeyevna still did not know, approached the wall unit and ran his finger over one of the shelves.
“What’s this? A scratch?” He pointed toward a corner.
“Where?” Nina Sergeyevna came closer. “No, that’s just the light reflecting off the surface.”
“No, I can see it,” the man said with a frown. “Svetka, come here and look.”
Svetlana moved closer and narrowed her eyes.
“There might be something there.”
“There isn’t,” Nina Sergeyevna said gently. “You can touch it. The surface is completely smooth.”
The man opened one of the cabinet doors and looked inside.
“And what’s this? Some kind of stain?”
“That’s the natural wood pattern,” Nina Sergeyevna explained, trying to remain calm. “It came like that from the manufacturer.”
“What manufacturer? At this price, it shouldn’t have stains.”
Svetlana pulled out one of the desk drawers.
“It squeaks.”
“That’s the hinge. It can be lubricated.”
“Then why didn’t you lubricate it before putting it up for sale?” the man asked, crossing his arms. “Normal people prepare furniture before selling it.”
Nina Sergeyevna drew a deep breath.
“The furniture is in excellent condition. My son took very good care of it for five years.”
“I don’t know,” Svetlana said slowly. “Oleg, what do you think?”
So his name was Oleg.
He twisted his face contemptuously.
“Junk. For that price, it’s junk. I thought there would at least be something decent here. Instead, it’s some old Soviet rubbish.”
“It’s made by a German company,” Nina Sergeyevna said, finally losing some of her patience. “We bought it from a specialist furniture store.”
“What difference does it make? China, Germany—it’s all the same now.”
Svetlana walked around the room once more.
“Could you lower the price again? The furniture clearly has defects.”
“What defects?” Nina Sergeyevna felt the last of her patience beginning to wear thin.
“That scratch. The squeaking hinges. And besides, it’s on the fifth floor with no elevator. We’ll have to pay movers. Take off another twenty percent, and we’ll buy it.”
“I have already reduced the price by fifteen percent.”
“That discount was simply for the privilege of selling it at all,” Oleg interrupted. “Now we’re talking about a discount based on its actual condition.”
Nina Sergeyevna shook her head.
“No. The current price is final.”
Svetlana and Oleg exchanged a glance.
“Fine,” Svetlana said. “We’ll take it. But you’ll arrange delivery.”
“The advertisement clearly says that delivery is the buyer’s responsibility.”
“But we’re a large family!” Svetlana protested. “We don’t have money for movers. What, are you too selfish to help us?”
Nina Sergeyevna looked at Svetlana. Then at Oleg. Then at the children in the hallway, where the little girl was picking at the wallpaper.
“I can recommend an inexpensive moving company.”
“We don’t need recommendations. We need free delivery!” Oleg raised his voice. “What kind of people are you? You won’t even help a struggling family!”
Artyom came out of his room.
“Is something wrong?”
“Your mother refuses to give us free delivery,” Oleg muttered. “Even though we’re taking this junk off your hands.”
“It isn’t junk,” Artyom replied calmly. “It’s my furniture. And if you don’t like it, no one is forcing you to buy it.”
Svetlana tugged at her husband’s sleeve.
“Oleg, stop. We’ll sort out the delivery ourselves.”
Oleg glared at Artyom.
“And who are you supposed to be?”
“The owner’s son. And by the way, if you have questions about putting it back together, I can give you the instruction manual. It’s fairly simple.”
Svetlana suddenly brightened.
“Give me your phone number! In case we don’t understand something. My husband’s hands grow from the wrong place. He can’t assemble anything properly.”
“Svetka!” Oleg barked.
“What? I’m telling the truth. Last time you assembled a stool, it fell apart the next day.”
Artyom shrugged and gave her his number.
“Contact me if you need anything. Messaging is better, though. I can’t always answer calls.”
“All right, all right. So we’re definitely taking it. We’ll come tomorrow with a van, around eleven in the morning. Does that work?”
“Yes,” Nina Sergeyevna said.
“We’ll bring cash. Just don’t change anything, agreed? We were the first people to respond.”
“Agreed.”
Svetlana and her family left. Nina Sergeyevna closed the door behind them.
“They’re strange people,” Artyom said. “Are you sure you want to deal with them?”
“What choice do we have? They responded, came to see it, and agreed to buy it. Tomorrow they’ll collect it, and that will be the end of it.”
“All right. Hopefully they’ll be more polite tomorrow.”
Eleven o’clock came.
No one arrived.
Then noon.
Still nothing.
Nina Sergeyevna called Svetlana. The phone rang for a long time before the call was rejected.
She tried again.
The same thing happened.
“Artyom, call her from your phone.”
Her son dialed the number.
The call was rejected again.
“Maybe she’s busy?”
“Three times in a row?” Nina Sergeyevna frowned. “She said they would be here at eleven.”
She sent a message.
“Hello, Svetlana. You planned to arrive at eleven. Is everything still going ahead?”
The message was read.
There was no reply.
Another hour passed. Nina Sergeyevna wrote again.
“Please let me know whether you are still planning to collect the furniture.”
The message was read.
Silence.
“Maybe she doesn’t answer unfamiliar numbers,” Artyom suggested.
“She knows my number. We’ve been messaging each other.”
“Then I don’t know.”
By evening, Nina Sergeyevna stopped trying. She sat in the kitchen, looking at the advertisement on her phone. There were no new responses because she had removed the listing after Svetlana had confirmed the purchase.
“I’m posting it again,” she told Artyom. “I’m not waiting for her any longer.”
“Good.”
The following morning, a man called.
“Good afternoon. I saw your advertisement. Is the furniture still available?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Wonderful. Could we come and see it today? Around two?”
“Of course.”
At two o’clock, the doorbell rang. A young man of about twenty-five stood outside with a woman who was visibly pregnant.
“I’m Maksim,” he introduced himself. “And this is Alisa. We’re here about the furniture.”
“Come in,” Nina Sergeyevna said with a smile. “Here it is. Take a look.”
Maksim walked around the room. He touched the surface of the wall unit, pulled out the drawers, and opened the cabinet doors.
“It’s in excellent condition,” he said. “Alisa, do you like it?”
The woman nodded.
“Very much. It would be perfect for the nursery.”
“How old is it?” Maksim asked.
“Five years.”
“It looks two years old.”
“My son was very careful with it.”
Maksim took out his phone and calculated something.
“Do you still have the assembly instructions? I can dismantle it and transport it myself. We won’t need movers. But I’d like to know how to put it back together.”
“We have the instructions,” Artyom said as he entered the room. “You can take them with the furniture.”
“Excellent!” Maksim smiled. “Then we’ll buy it. I can start dismantling it now. It should take about two hours. The van is downstairs.”
“You brought tools with you?” Nina Sergeyevna asked in surprise.
“Of course. I knew the furniture would have to be taken apart.”
Alisa sat down on a chair beside the window.
“I’ll sit here for a while, if you don’t mind. My legs are swollen.”
“Of course, sit down,” Nina Sergeyevna said quickly. “Would you like some tea? I also have homemade fruit drink.”
“The fruit drink would be wonderful.”
Artyom helped Maksim dismantle the wall unit. The work moved quickly because both men knew what they were doing and did not get in each other’s way.
“This is good furniture,” Maksim said as he unscrewed another hinge. “Proper quality. I had something similar when I was a child, only in a different color.”
“I’m used to it,” Artyom admitted. “But I’m leaving to study, and it makes no sense for it to stand here unused.”
“I agree. Better for someone else to benefit from it.”
Two and a half hours later, all the furniture had been dismantled and carried downstairs. Maksim paid the full amount in cash and added a little extra.
“That’s for the instruction manual,” he explained. “And for describing everything honestly. It’s nice dealing with reasonable people.”
“Thank you,” Nina Sergeyevna said, putting the money into her pocket. “And good luck with the baby.”
Alisa smiled.
“Thank you. We’re expecting the baby in two months.”
They left.
Nina Sergeyevna looked around the empty room.
“That’s it.”
“Now we can start the renovation,” Artyom said, stretching. “I’ll wash the dust off the walls today, and tomorrow we can apply the primer. I want to help you finish as much as possible before I leave.”
“We’ll manage.”
Nina Sergeyevna felt relieved. The furniture had gone to kind people, the renovation could begin, and her son was still there to help her. Life was finally settling into place.
She had no idea that everything would change within twenty-four hours.
The doorbell rang at noon.
Nina Sergeyevna opened the door and froze.
Svetlana stood outside. Behind her were the same two children, the boy and the little girl. Svetlana was smiling, but it was a strained, unnatural smile.
“Hello!” she said brightly. “Well, we’re here to collect the furniture!”
Nina Sergeyevna stared at her for several seconds.
“What furniture?”
“What do you mean? The furniture we agreed to buy. We came to see it the day before yesterday, remember?”
“Svetlana, we agreed that you would come yesterday morning. You didn’t arrive, and you refused to answer my calls.”
“Oh, come on!” Svetlana threw up her hands. “My phone ran out of battery! Then the children got sick. I was awake all night. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“You read my messages and chose not to reply.”
“That happened by accident! I wanted to answer, but I got distracted. I have three children. Do you understand how exhausting that is?”
“The furniture has been sold.”
Svetlana’s smile disappeared.
“What?”
“The furniture has been sold. Yesterday. To another buyer.”
“What do you mean, sold? We had an agreement! I was the first person to respond. You had no right!”
Nina Sergeyevna straightened.
“You failed to arrive at the agreed time. You didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t send a single message. I waited until evening and then posted the advertisement again.”
“That’s illegal!” Svetlana raised her voice. “We had a verbal agreement!”
“An agreement that you failed to honor.”
Svetlana thrust her hand into her pocket and pulled out several crumpled banknotes.
“Here!” She placed the money on a shelf in the hallway. “There’s your deposit. Now the furniture officially belongs to us.”
Nina Sergeyevna looked at the money. It was no more than five hundred rubles.
“Svetlana, the furniture is already in someone else’s home. It is physically no longer in this apartment.”
“Then take it back!”
“What?”
“Call that buyer and take it back! Tell them you changed your mind. Tell them the first buyer returned. I don’t care what you say, but the furniture is supposed to be mine.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious!” Svetlana was nearly shouting now. “I came all the way here with the children. By bus! It took an hour each way. Do you understand what it’s like traveling on a bus with two children?”
“You made the decision not to answer my calls.”
“I told you, my phone died!”
“Svetlana, please leave. The furniture is gone. This conversation is over.”
“No, it isn’t!” Svetlana stepped forward. “You have to reimburse my expenses! I spent money on transportation. I wasted my time. I promised my children they would have new furniture.”
“Kirill, stop picking at the wall!” she suddenly screamed at her son. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re always touching things that don’t belong to you!”
The boy pulled his hand away and scowled.
“Now listen to me,” Svetlana said, turning back to Nina Sergeyevna. “You have to give me the furniture for free.”
“What?”
“For free. As compensation for the inconvenience you caused me. You deceived me, sold my furniture to strangers, and forced me to travel here for an hour with two children.”
Nina Sergeyevna felt a wave of anger rising inside her.
“I did not deceive you. You failed to keep your side of the agreement.”
“That doesn’t matter! I’m a low-income mother with three children. I’m entitled to support. You are obligated to help me.”
“I am not obligated to give you anything.”
“You…” Svetlana stopped herself, apparently remembering that the children were present. “Fine. My husband will be here in a moment. He’ll explain it to you.”
“Your husband?”
“He’s downstairs with the van and the movers. We thought we would collect the furniture and leave. But instead, we find this.”
Nina Sergeyevna slowly exhaled.
“Svetlana, leave. The furniture is gone and it isn’t coming back.”
“I am not leaving until I get what belongs to me.”
Oleg appeared in the doorway. His face was red with anger, and the veins in his neck stood out.
“Well?” he demanded, looking at his wife. “Where’s the furniture?”
“She sold it!” Svetlana shrieked. “Can you believe it? She sold our furniture to complete strangers!”
Oleg looked at Nina Sergeyevna.
“Is that true?”
“Yes. You didn’t arrive at the agreed time.”
“So what? We said we would come. What difference does it make exactly when?”
“Svetka, take the children and go downstairs,” Oleg said, jerking his head toward the stairs. “I’ll handle this.”
Svetlana obediently led the children out of the apartment.
Oleg stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, towering over Nina Sergeyevna. “There’s a van parked downstairs. Two movers are waiting. They’ve already been paid. Fuel costs money. My time costs money. Do you understand how much I’ve spent?”
“That is your problem.”
“My problem?” Oleg narrowed his eyes. “Mine? No, lady, this is your problem. You cheated me. You’re going to reimburse my expenses.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“You clearly don’t understand.” Oleg stepped closer. “I’m very angry right now. I wasted my entire morning coming here. The movers are downstairs waiting, and I’m paying them for every minute. I arrive, and the furniture is gone. Do you think that’s normal?”
“You could have called before coming.”
“To hell with you!” Oleg swore. “I’m supposed to call her now? We’re the buyers. We’re bringing you money. And this is how you behave?”
Nina Sergeyevna took a step back.
“Get out of my apartment.”
“I’m not leaving until I’m compensated. Pay for the movers and the van, and then I’ll go.”
“I am not paying you anything.”
Oleg grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her.
Nina Sergeyevna stumbled backward and struck her elbow painfully against the wall.
“I’ve had enough of you, understand?” he said, advancing toward her. “You thought you could trick us? Cheat a mother with three children? Leave those children without furniture?”
At that moment, the door opened.
Tamara, the neighbor from the apartment across the hall, stood in the doorway. She was a broad, heavyset woman in her sixties with a large leather handbag hanging from her shoulder.
“Nina, is everything all right?” She took in the scene instantly. “Did that man touch you?”
“Stay out of this, old woman,” Oleg snapped. “It’s none of your business.”
Tamara did not hesitate for even a second.
She pulled the handbag from her shoulder and swung it directly into Oleg’s face. The heavy metal buckle struck him squarely on the nose.
There was a crunch.
Oleg howled and covered his face with both hands. Blood streamed between his fingers.
“What the hell are you doing, you crazy old hag?” he cried, staggering backward. “You broke my nose!”
“I didn’t break it. I only made it bleed,” Tamara said, raising the handbag again. “But if you aren’t out of this apartment in three seconds, I’ll break it properly. And not just your nose.”
“I’ll… I’ll make you pay for this! Both of you!”
“Two seconds.”
“You’ll answer for this! I’ll find witnesses! I’ll…”
“One second. And by the way, I have an excellent memory for faces. I also know at least five people who saw you attack Nina. So choose. Either you run, or I start making phone calls.”
Oleg lunged toward the door.
He rushed onto the landing, caught his foot on the threshold, and tumbled down the stairs. There was a crash, a stream of curses, and then another crash. Somewhere below, a heavy thud echoed through the stairwell.
Nina Sergeyevna stepped onto the landing and looked down.
Oleg was lying on the stairs one floor below. His shirt was torn, his face was covered in blood, and a bruise was already swelling on his forehead.
She picked up the money from the shelf—the same banknotes Svetlana had left as a “deposit”—and threw them down the stairwell.
The notes fluttered onto the steps beside Oleg.
He snatched them up with blood-covered fingers.
“Take your deposit,” Nina Sergeyevna said. “And make sure I never see either of you again.”
Oleg struggled to his feet and limped downstairs, pressing his sleeve against his bleeding nose.
Tamara slammed the door shut and turned toward Nina Sergeyevna.
“How are you?”
“I’m all right. My elbow hurts a little.”
“Let me see.”
Nina Sergeyevna rolled up her sleeve. A dark bruise was already forming on her elbow.
“You’ll live,” Tamara concluded. “Put some ice on it. And that man should be grateful I was in a good mood today. The last time someone like him came at me, he spent two weeks on sick leave.”
“Tamara…”
“What?”
“Thank you.”
Her neighbor waved dismissively.
“Don’t mention it. I was only coming over to borrow some salt. I managed to do something useful along the way.” She paused. “Nina, if anything happens, you know where to find me. Any time of day.”
“I know.”
Tamara left.
Nina Sergeyevna took a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and pressed it against her elbow.
Ten minutes later, the front door opened.
Artyom came in with a young woman. She was short, dark-haired, and had intelligent eyes.
“Mom, you should have seen what was happening downstairs!” Artyom said excitedly. “Some man with a smashed nose was screaming at a woman with children, and she was screaming back that he was an idiot and had ruined everything. I think she might have been the one who broke his nose. About ten people gathered around to watch. Then they climbed into a van and drove away. Even the movers were arguing with them. Wait, those weren’t our buyers, were they? The first ones?”
“How interesting,” Nina Sergeyevna replied neutrally.
“Very.” Artyom turned toward the young woman. “Mom, meet Polina.”
“Hello,” Polina said with a smile. “Artyom has told me a lot about you.”
“He hasn’t told me a single word about you,” Nina Sergeyevna said, smiling back. “He was keeping you a secret.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Artyom said, looking embarrassed. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. I was just waiting for the right moment.”
“This is as good a moment as any. Come in. We’ll have tea. Or fruit drink.”
Polina exchanged a glance with Artyom.
“Fruit drink sounds wonderful.”
They went into the kitchen. Nina Sergeyevna quietly returned the bag of frozen peas to the freezer.
“Mom, is everything all right?” Artyom looked closely at her. “You look a little… I don’t know. Disheveled.”
“I’ve started the renovation. There’s dust everywhere.”
“What happened to your elbow? You were rubbing it.”
“I bumped it against the doorframe. I was careless.”
Artyom did not press her for more information. He poured fruit drink into glasses and put a plate of cookies on the table.
“Polina is also leaving to study,” he said. “In the same city as me. We’ll be together.”
Nina Sergeyevna looked at her son.
Then she looked at Polina, who blushed slightly.
“I’m glad,” Nina Sergeyevna said. “I’m very glad.”
And she truly was.
Her elbow ached, her son’s room was empty, and the renovation had barely begun. But her son was happy, and he had a girl beside him who looked at him with warmth and tenderness.
Everything else was insignificant.
Meanwhile, the van rattled along a broken road on the outskirts of the city.
Oleg sat in the front passenger seat, pressing a blood-soaked cloth against his nose.
“This is all your fault,” Svetlana hissed from the back seat. “If you hadn’t attacked her, none of this would have happened.”
“Shut up.”
“I will not shut up. You ruin everything. Every single time. We could have talked to her calmly, but you started waving your fists around.”
“I told you to shut up!”
“And what about the movers? You paid them for an empty trip. What exactly did we pay for? Air?”
Oleg slammed his fist against the dashboard.
“What are you even talking about? You were the one who ignored her calls. This happened because of you. If you had answered her immediately, the furniture would have been ours.”
“I was busy!”
“Busy doing what? Sitting on your phone playing those stupid games?”
“Don’t you dare shout at me!”
“Shout at you? I’ll leave you on the side of the road, and you can find your own way home with your children.”
“Our children!”
“I don’t care!”
Kirill began to cry in the back seat. The little girl pressed herself against Svetlana.
“Do you see what you’re doing?” Svetlana whispered angrily. “You’re frightening the children.”
“And you aren’t? With all your screaming?”
Oleg fell silent.
He stared out the window at the trees flashing past.
His nose throbbed with pain. His shirt was soaked with blood. In his pocket were five miserable hundred-ruble banknotes—the money Svetlana had tried to pass off as a deposit.
“Idiot,” he muttered. “You’re such an idiot.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
He turned back toward the window.
The movers were sitting in the back of the van, talking quietly among themselves. They had been paid, so they did not care.
Only one thought kept circling in Oleg’s mind.
How had everything gone so wrong?
It should have been a simple purchase. Buy cheap furniture, load it into the van, and take it home.
Instead, he had a smashed nose, had humiliated himself in front of his wife, wasted money, and ended up with nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
He could have called and confirmed the arrangement.
He could have arrived on time.
He could have kept his hands off that woman.
But no.
He had decided that everyone should wait for him. That everyone owed him something. That he was automatically right because he was the buyer, because he had money, because he was the father of a large family, because…
And now he was sitting there with a broken and bleeding nose, listening to his wife complain while an empty van carried them home.
“How did I sink this low?” he muttered under his breath. “How?”
No one answered.
The van turned onto a narrow country road and disappeared around the bend.