What, did you sign off on the apartment?!” Garik shouted, his eyes widening. “Who did you agree with?”
“First and foremost with my own conscience,” Victoria replied.
“How can you not be ashamed!” her cohabitant bellowed, as if he were a strict teacher, waving his hand. “I was counting on moving my mother in there, and I’d rent out her apartment at good rates. I was even planning to get a car…”
“A car?” A bitter smirk appeared on Victoria’s face. “Are you saying that I’m supposed to sacrifice the future grandchildren for your car?”
Part 1. A Celebration Unlike Any Other
Victoria had been looking forward to this day for months. She woke early, stretched, and looked up at the ceiling where shadows danced. Forty-five was not a milestone birthday, yet today she turned 45. Her spirit felt light. She got up, hastily pulled her hair into a high bun, and glanced at herself in the mirror.
“Well then, Vikusha,” her mother used to call her in childhood—though her mother had been gone for several years now—“back to the front lines.”
The bedroom door opened, and Garik—her suitor and, alas, eternal fiancé, as Victoria wryly thought of him—entered. She had parted ways with her first husband without scandals or infidelity, as is often the case; they simply stopped understanding each other, and Arthur, after packing his things, left for who-knows-where. All those years he dutifully paid alimony, though not out of any great merit—he simply worked at a company without any “black cash.”
The man who entered smiled as he looked at his woman and declared:
“Happy birthday, darling.”
Victoria had long learned to detect the prickly notes in her cohabitant’s tone. He, smirking, moved closer.
“At 45, a woman can go anywhere. You don’t need any plastic surgery—nature has already painted you beautifully.”
The compliment was utterly lame; it was something one might hear from a bum, but certainly not from the man who lived in her apartment.
“Every year you become more ripe, like a peach… or better yet, like a melon,” Garik snorted as he smacked her on the thigh.
“I heard your mother has arrived,” Victoria asked, trying not to engage with his barbs.
“She’s sitting, waiting,” the man said dryly and for the second time slapped the woman on her rounded sides.
The mistress of the house adjusted her dress, took another look at her reflection in the mirror, and then went into the living room, where Oksana Fyodorovna, comfortably settled on the sofa with her legs covered by a blanket, was waiting.
“Well, birthday girl, you go to sleep!” exclaimed Garik’s mother. “You look as fresh as a juicy zucchini—truly a delight to the eyes.”
Victoria simply smiled and then approached the window to pull aside the heavy curtains. She wanted to celebrate her birthday in a warm atmosphere without being compared to vegetables and fruits.
“Garik, set the table, and come help me dress it; my son and his bride will be arriving soon.”
“Seryozhka, or what?”
“‘Or what,’” Victoria lightly imitated him. “I only have one son, in case you forgot.”
Part 2. The First Troubling Calls
At last, the table was set in the middle of the room. The mistress covered it with a white tablecloth, and within minutes, a stuffed fish and special cupcakes—whipped up all night using her mother’s recipes—were on display. The woman sighed: her mother had been a magnificent cook and had hoped to follow in her footsteps, but couldn’t manage the 4 a.m. wake-ups required to open a shop and please the customers no matter how hard she tried.
“Seems tasty,” Garik mumbled, “but you really shouldn’t get carried away with all that baking—I know how it tends to accumulate in all the wrong places on a woman’s body.”
“Thanks for your concern,” the birthday girl replied quietly, avoiding a debate.
All the while, the mother-in-law sat silently on the sofa, carefully watching both her daughter-in-law and her son.
Soon the doorbell rang—it was Sergei, her son. He was grown up now, and with him stepped Alena, a young girl with a mischievous smile.
“Mom, happy birthday, this is for you,” Sergei said as he handed her an enormous bouquet.
“Thank you, my dears, come in and make yourselves at home,” she said, pressing the bouquet to her chest and inhaling its sweet scent.
Within minutes, they all sat down at the table. Garik generously poured champagne into glasses, raised his, and, squinting, said:
“To Victoria, may life begin at 45, and hopefully without any unnecessary expenses.”
A provocative smile stretched across his face. Sergei, seated to the right of his mother, looked at her, trying to discern whether the barb had hurt her feelings, but Victoria just shrugged.
Part 3. The Gift in Green Packaging
Perhaps about five minutes later, as the plates filled with salad and the first glasses of champagne were finished, Oksana Fyodorovna winked at her son and then produced a branded bag from behind the sofa.
“Come on, Vikochka, look what we’ve got.”
“Surprise, Mom,” Garik announced with a satisfied expression.
Sergei didn’t care much for this man, even though he had never had a fight with him and, seemingly, respected his mother. Yet something about him was unpleasant, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what.
Victoria took the bag and unfolded the paper wrapping. Out fell a long green robe with thick dark stripes.
“Is this what you mentioned—a new trend?” she asked, addressing either her cohabitant or his mother.
“Of course, it’s the most decent thing we could find,” Oksana Fyodorovna replied cheerfully, glancing again at her son, “after all, your low-cut and body-hugging dresses are no longer appropriate for your age.”
“Indeed,” Garik chimed in. “Wear that and there’s no need to strain your imagination—I believe the simpler, the better.”
Victoria didn’t like to argue in front of guests, so she decided to go try on the new outfit immediately. Sergei watched her closely while Alena squeezed his hand a bit more firmly than usual. About a minute later, the birthday girl emerged from the bedroom. The robe clung awkwardly to her hips, and the stripes distorted her figure strangely.
“That’s not really your style, Mom,” Sergei confessed frankly. Victoria smiled at him slyly.
Hearing this, Garik abruptly set his champagne glass down on the table.
“I think you look perfect. Enough of pretending to be a queen. You wanted a dress, so we bought you the most practical one. Besides, you’re of a certain age now—it’s time to think about modesty, not sparkles and plunging necklines.”
Victoria didn’t want her son to quarrel with his stepfather.
“I’ll take it off so it doesn’t get dirty,” she said and returned to the bedroom.
Part 4. A Family Confession
When she returned, Sergei sat beside her and, looking at his fiancée, quietly said:
“Mom, sorry we didn’t warn you earlier, but Alena and I have important news—we’re going to have a baby soon.”
“Oh, what joy!” In that moment, Victoria felt lightness and happiness filling her. She raised her glass and nodded at Garik.
However, her man did not share the same enthusiasm as the birthday girl.
“Well then…” he drawled. “Kids at this age…” he said, as if to admonish Sergei. “Don’t you have anything better to do? You should have kids when you’re firmly on your feet; otherwise, it’s just: ‘Mom, help me!’ I don’t need any surprises.”
Sergei fell silent, trying to keep his irritation in check. His fiancée, Alena, lowered her gaze and after a pause said:
“Don’t worry, we’ll manage on our own.”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” Garik sneered. “You young people: one minute you’re together, the next you’re drifting apart, and we old folks have to clean up the mess…”
The mistress of the house smiled at her daughter-in-law, silently showing support. To ease the tension, she proposed switching to tea.
Part 5. A Failed Reconciliation
While Victoria was brewing fragrant herbal tea and slicing cake, Oksana Fyodorovna entered the kitchen and whispered:
“See what your son has driven me to! They’ve decided to have a baby, of all things. I’m already running on fumes, and now I’ll have to keep an eye on your grandchildren…”
Victoria knew her son would marry someday, but she hadn’t expected his fiancée to become pregnant so soon. Yet, one cannot argue with nature, and perhaps they simply wanted it—they just didn’t know. She had long imagined grandchildren running around the house—whether boys or girls didn’t matter. She regretted having only one son, thinking that news of a grandchild would bring joy to everyone.
“Please, Oksana Fyodorovna, don’t judge Sergei’s decision. They’re adults; they’ll handle it themselves.”
Victoria had always taught her son to take responsibility for his actions and trusted that he and his fiancée had discussed everything.
“Oh, come on, don’t preach at me,” Oksana Fyodorovna grumbled. “You see, you’re special…”
Victoria remained silent. She took the tray with the cake, entered the hall, stuck the candles into it, and lit them. The birthday celebration continued, but the atmosphere in the room was noticeably less festive. Her son and Alena sat a while longer, and after congratulating their mother once more, they left to attend to their own affairs.
Part 6. A Heart-to-Heart Conversation
Once the door closed, Garik, outraged, turned to Victoria:
“Do you seriously think I’m going to babysit his child?”—he meant her son.
“No one’s asking you to do anything,” she replied quietly.
“Good! I’m not going to help them with money or housing for a single day. They decided to have kids—let them deal with the consequences, you know…”
Victoria found it hard to believe what she was hearing. In their two years together, she still hadn’t received a proposal from Garik. He was handsome and incredibly charming, but only during the first week of their acquaintance—after that…
“I suppose I’ll go wash the dishes,” she said sullenly, gathering the dirty plates onto a tray.
Garik rarely helped around the house: he worked, brought in money, sat on the sofa, and waited for Victoria to feed him. That life suited him—being pampered, having his clothes washed, and being pleased. Perhaps that was his dream—to have a compliant woman with her own apartment.
At that moment, Garik called for a car. His mother, Oksana Fyodorovna, who had not even deigned to help the birthday girl, was already standing in the corridor.
“Where did you, for heaven’s sake, put the napkins?” Garik grumbled as he pulled on his boots. “You could at least keep things in order sometimes, Vika. Alright, I’m off, and you, birthday girl, relax…”
Within seconds, the door slammed shut. “Is this really what I want?” Victoria wondered as she turned off the water. After parting ways with Arthur, she had dreamed of sharing a bed with a loved man. She had been friends with Garik for a long time but never dared to let him fully into her home. And only after Sergei moved out did she take the risk.
Part 7. Lyudmila’s Advice
After lunch, as she had arranged with her friend Lyudmila, Victoria met her in a café to celebrate her birthday once more. Her friend was blunt, with a strong character, yet always spoke gently but firmly.
“Listen,” Lyudmila said after hearing her friend’s complaints, “a man who doesn’t value you or your home is nothing but a useless crutch—a freeloader. Call him whatever you like, but he’s not a real man.”
“Yes, but Garik and I have been together for a long time, and I’ve grown accustomed to him…”
“Habit is like a second nature,” Lyudmila philosophized. “But if he doesn’t want to be by your side and remain loyal, then he isn’t worth your trust. In short, he’s a traitor.”
Victoria closed her eyes and sighed.
“Maybe you’re right,” she admitted, echoing thoughts she had been having too often lately. “Why on earth did I ever settle for this Garik? It’s like a night-time heating pad.”
“Remember, dear, there are no happy breakups—only liberation from what’s unnecessary, like getting rid of junk. You don’t keep trash in your house, do you?”
Victoria smiled and nodded.
“It’s not harsh—it’s pragmatic. Every piece of junk has its place, on the dump.”
Part 8. Unexpected Help
Surprisingly, Lyudmila’s advice gave Victoria resolve. That evening she spent alone at home; Garik never showed up. The next day, Sergei called to ask about his mother’s well-being.
“Mom, Alena and I are moving out of our apartment—the landlord hiked the rent. And besides, the studio has become too small for us. Oh, and we’ve decided to have a wedding, even if it’s a small one, it’s still our wedding,” Sergei said, pausing for a few seconds before adding, “We didn’t want to worry you, since you live on your own.”
“Sergey, my dear,” she immediately deduced what her son was implying, “I’ll help however I can. Remember, your grandmother left an apartment with me, and I’ve been renting it out to students. You really didn’t want to live there before, but maybe now you’ll reconsider?”
“But it needs renovation, and that’s no small expense.”
“Let’s do this: I’ve been thinking about it for a while—I’ll transfer the apartment to your name, and we can figure out the renovation together. Enough messing around with other people’s apartments.”
“Are you sure, Mom?” Sergei asked.
“No matter how your family life turns out, your child will grow up in your own home. Birth is a celebration that you’ll remember for a hundred years. So, do we have a deal?”
“Of course, Mom!” Sergei replied, hardly believing such an offer.
However, Victoria knew that Garik would object. He had long been eyeing that apartment, planning to rent it out at a higher rate.
Part 9. Plans and Their Collapse
Later that evening, Garik returned—not alone but with his mother, Oksana Fyodorovna—and without changing his clothes, he declared:
“We’ve got a problem: my mother’s radiators are leaking, the house is damp—you might as well try growing fish there. Can you put up our dear one?”
Victoria looked at Garik and, if it weren’t for his mother, she might have asked, “Do you even have the hands to fix a radiator?” But now she responded:
“If there’s truly no other option, then let your mother stay in the guest room—the sofa is big enough.”
Oksana Fyodorovna placed a heavy bag on the parquet floor and said:
“Of course not—I’m not getting an expensive hotel out of my pension money. But you told me you had another apartment, maybe I could go there?” she said, looking at her son.
Victoria couldn’t hold back any longer:
“The apartment you’re talking about belonged to my grandmother, and I decided to transfer it to my son.”
“What?!” Garik shouted, his eyes bulging. “Who did you even agree with?”
“First and foremost with my own conscience.”
“How can you not be ashamed!” Garik thundered, waving his hand like a strict teacher. “I was counting on moving my mother in there, and I’d rent out her apartment at decent rates. I was even planning on getting a car…”
“A car?” A bitter smirk appeared on Victoria’s face. “Are you saying that I should sacrifice the future grandchildren for your car?”
“For heaven’s sake! You’re daydreaming—wanting to please everyone, right? What will happen when there’s no money left? What complaints will be coming my way? You’ll be paying for the repairs yourself, and with your son’s wedding looming, I’m supposed to be involved in that too!” Garik’s face reddened; it was clear he hadn’t expected Victoria to transfer her own apartment to her son without consulting him.
“No one’s forcing you,” she retorted.
Garik let out a string of curses, and immediately Oksana Fyodorovna joined him:
“Yes, I too think you don’t appreciate the love of my son. He spent two years of his life on you!”
Hearing that, Victoria giggled:
“Oh, really, two years! Thanks for reminding me. For all those two years, he lived in my apartment—unless I missed something? And don’t you dare,” she said this time directly to Garik, “lay claim to my property.”
Part 10. The Shattering of Illusions
The next morning, Victoria woke with a clear thought: she no longer wanted to endure it. She fetched the suitcase she used for trips to the seaside and began packing Garik’s shirts, jackets, and his forgotten socks.
“What is this circus?” Garik exclaimed as he entered her room.
“The circus is over, dear. I’m packing up your things,” the mistress stated firmly. “I’ve concluded that you’re not good for me.”
“You’ve completely lost it, Vika! Where am I supposed to go? We had an agreement!” the man said, approaching the wardrobe to look at the empty hangers.
“Remind me, when and where did we ever agree on that? Since we moved in together, all I’ve heard are your mockery and endless complaints… I even got you flowers, and they wilted from your presence.”
“Call it what you want, but I was working here—fixing the tap, running errands…”
“Thank you,” Victoria replied completely calmly. “For that, I fed you, clothed you, and ironed your clothes. So consider us even.”
At that moment, Oksana Fyodorovna peeked into the room, raised her finger, and stepped toward the mistress of the house:
“Vikochka, dear, think carefully! A man like that is a find! No one else will come to you at your age, your 45…”
“Are you sure?” Victoria asked with a hint of mischief in her voice.
“Gather your things and get out the door quickly,” Oksana Fyodorovna calmly replied.
“Who do you think you are, you inflated watermelon!” Garik exploded. “If you ever want to come back, you’ll crawl on your knees.”
“That’s exactly why I’m throwing you out—like useless junk, like trash, like rot that’s become nauseating. And we’ll see who ends up crawling,” Victoria retorted.
Part 11. A Celebratory Future
When the front door slammed shut, Victoria realized she felt free. For the first time in two years, she experienced a sense of calm. The uninvited guests had left, and with them went the oppressive feeling of helplessness.
Shortly after, Sergei and Alena returned to wish the mother a happy birthday and to inquire about the outcome of the little scandal. Victoria was now dressed in casual jeans and a sweater, not a trace of tears on her face.
“Mom, how are you?” Sergei asked.
“As some wise man once said: every fortress begins with a calm soul,” Victoria replied with a smile as she embraced her son. “I’m excellent—everything will get better, I’m sure of it.”
She sat on the sofa and motioned for them to come closer. Her daughter-in-law quietly took a seat and, glancing around, asked:
“And where’s Garik?”
“He decided it was time to leave—packed his things, and I think he’s off to the dump.”
Hearing this, Sergei huffed and asked:
“And you’re calm?”
“You know, there’s a saying: ‘Everything happens for the best.’ Maybe it’s just an excuse, but I’d rather be alone than with just anyone.”
Alena smiled brightly:
“And we were about to discuss when to start the renovation on Grandma’s apartment.”
“Let’s go check it out tomorrow and draft a budget,” Victoria suggested. “If all goes well, we might even have the wedding and a housewarming party before the baby comes,” she added with a smile, “and then the little one.”
Sergei hadn’t seen his mother so uplifted in a long time.
“You know, if you need any help, I’ll come over like a tank, crushing all obstacles.”
The woman smiled and kissed her son on the cheek.
“When you’re surrounded by those who love you, no hardship is too great.”
“Maybe some tea?” Alena said as she rose from the sofa and dashed toward the kitchen.
“Indeed, let’s go have some tea,” the mistress said as she too rose from the sofa.
Conclusion
The soulful tranquility that Victoria had long been deprived of was finally found in her own home. The weight of others’ rules and poisonous words vanished along with Garik, and a challenging new phase of life lay ahead for Victoria—after all, she was soon to be a grandmother.