Irina had just put her daughter, Alice, to bed a few minutes ago. She was about to lie down herself to enjoy the quiet of her cozy apartment. The soft light of the table lamp created a warm atmosphere in the living room, where the walls were adorned with landscape paintings and photographs of happy moments.
But at that moment, the doorbell rang. The melodic ring announced that someone had come to visit.
“Well, that didn’t work out,” said the girl with irony in her voice as she went to open the door.
A short girl with short blonde hair and big brown eyes stood on the threshold. She looked attentively at the hostess, clearly deep in thought.
“What can I do for you?” Irina asked, frowning slightly.
“Oh, sorry,” the girl snapped out of her thoughts. “My name is Yana.”
“Nice to meet you,” replied the hostess, crossing her arms across her chest. “Are you here for a reason?”
“Yes, yes,” the girl repeated several times. “My name is Yana.”
“I gathered that,” Irina replied with a note of irritation in her voice.
“And you are Irina?” the guest asked uncertainly.
“Correct. So, what did you want?”
“Oh, you see,” the girl began cheerfully, “I am Viktor’s fiancée!”
Irina raised her eyebrows in surprise, her eyes widening at the unexpected news.
“My playboy has a new woman,” Irina thought, assessing Yana. “But what do I care who she is?”
“You see, I wanted to talk to you about my husband… oh, my fiancé,” Yana continued, nervously smiling.
“I doubt I can help you with anything; we’ve separated,” Irina responded dryly.
“Yes, I know. Viktor told me about it. Well, I didn’t come to argue!”
Irina chuckled to herself: “What’s there to argue about? I’m not his wife, and who you are, I really don’t care.”
“I would like to hear from you what he is like, my Viktor,” Yana said breathlessly.
“My Viktor?” This thought flashed through Irina’s mind. “He used to be mine, too…”
“Alright, come in,” Irina sighed.
She let the uninvited guest into the wide corridor. Irina herself was curious about how Viktor was doing. He hadn’t called her lately, only sending child support, and that was all.
Irina heated the kettle, brewed rose petals in a transparent teapot, placed two cups on a tray with some cookies, and carried everything into the living room.
Yana walked attentively along the walls, examining the paintings, bookshelves, and touching them. She was curious about everything.
“It’s beautiful here! Such a big room, high ceilings… And such huge windows, and a park! I’ve dreamed of such a house,” Yana exclaimed admiringly.
“So, what did you want to hear from me?” Irina inquired, placing the tray on the table.
“Yes, pretty much everything,” Yana replied and approached the door. “What’s in there?”
“Don’t open it!” Irina declared sharply. “My daughter is sleeping there.”
“Oh yes, Viktor told me he has a daughter. What’s her name?”
“Alice,” came the short reply.
“Right, Alice!” Yana turned and approached another door. Without asking Irina’s permission, she opened it and entered.
“Hey, where are you going?!” Irina exclaimed, annoyed, and ran after Yana.
“I want to see every room,” Yana replied carelessly.
“Listen, please close it and leave!”
“Why?” Yana protested. “After all, this is my house!”
“What?!” Irina couldn’t believe what she’d heard.
“Yes, this is my house. I’m marrying Viktor, and he’s giving me this house. So, honey, you need to clear out.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Irina asked, barely holding herself back.
“I don’t care what you think of me right now! I came to look at what my fiancé is giving me. I don’t want to end up in a shabby hut later. But here, it’s nothing…
“Okay, that’s it! End your circus, please, leave the house!”
“And you can’t tell me what to do!” Yana declared and opened the next room.
Irina rushed up and sharply pulled the woman by the sleeve. Yana barely kept her balance, staggering aside. The hostess carefully closed the door.
“Get out!” Irina hissed, feeling anger rising within her.
“Ooh, how mighty we are! Well, then, honey: I’m giving you exactly two weeks, after which I’m moving in here. Do you understand?”
From such rudeness, Irina was at a loss. She had not encountered such people in her life for a long time.
“Get out,” she said quietly but firmly, clenching her fists.
“Yes, I’m leaving already. I should have taken a couple more pictures, but never mind. I have the address. Bye-bye!”
Yana rushed to her shoes, quickly put them on, and, without waiting to be kicked out, darted onto the landing.
“Two weeks!” she yelled again and quickly ran down the steps.
Irina closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, feeling her knees tremble.
“What was that?” she asked herself. “Viktor couldn’t do this to me, he promised… Or maybe it was just a stupid prank by one of his flings?”
She looked at the clock. It was already late, but Irina knew she couldn’t sleep now. She needed to call Viktor and find out what was going on. But first, she checked on Alice’s room to make sure the noise hadn’t woken the girl. The little one was peacefully sleeping, hugging her favorite teddy bear, and Irina, looking at her daughter, felt a lump rise in her throat. She wouldn’t let anyone disrupt their peaceful life, especially some upstart who thought she owned their home.
The windows of the high-rises gradually lit up with a yellowish light, and the street lamps came on, casting whimsical shadows.
Irina paced the room, her elegant hands nervously adjusting strands that had escaped from her hairstyle. Thoughts jumbled in her head, and her heart beat like crazy. She couldn’t get rid of the words Yana, her ex-husband’s new passion, had said.
The apartment where Irina lived with her daughter Alice was filled with coziness and warmth. A soft sofa with multicolored cushions, bookshelves filled with favorite volumes, and photographs of happy moments on the walls — all created the atmosphere of a real home. But now this idyll seemed fragile and unreliable to Irina.
She remembered her agreement with Viktor: they would live here until Alice finished school. But the statement of his so-called fiancée was a terrible blow.
Unable to bear it any longer, Irina grabbed the phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed her ex-husband’s number, pressing the handset to her ear. After several rings, a familiar male voice answered:
“What’s up?” he replied without a greeting.
“What’s this supposed to mean?” Irina blurted out, also without a preamble, trying to speak quietly not to wake up Alice sleeping in the next room. “Some woman just came by claiming to be your latest fling and told me to leave this apartment. Or is this your stupid prank?”
“Alright, I got it,” Viktor said. “Just don’t boil over.”
Irina walked into the kitchen. The small room, crammed with old but well-kept furniture, always seemed to her the coziest place in the apartment. Now, however, it seemed to be pressing on her.
“Don’t boil over?” she repeated, trying to contain the emotions bursting out.
“You knew very well that this apartment isn’t yours,” Viktor continued. “My mother gave it to me before our wedding so that we could live in it. You remember that?”
“Remember it well,” Irina snapped. “Indeed, your mother gave this apartment as a wedding gift for us to live in. But you ran away, leaving me with a daughter. And unless I’m mistaken, you promised not to disturb me until Alice finishes school.”
“Oh, let’s not talk about promises, times are different,” Viktor tried to evade.
“Don’t dodge the question. You promised,” Irina insisted.
“Yes, there was such a thing. But now I need this apartment,” her ex-husband coldly replied.
“You scoundrel!” Irina couldn’t hold back, but she immediately took herself in hand, realizing that this was no solution. “You’re vile.”
“Are we going to argue now, or are we going to resolve something?” Viktor asked calmly.
“Tell your Yana not to come again…” Irina began, but Viktor interrupted her.
“No,” he said firmly. “I need this apartment, so it’s unfortunate that she spoke to you first, not me.”
“So, you chickened out and sent your witch to me?” Irina remarked sarcastically.
“Let’s not insult each other. I’m just asking you to leave this apartment within two weeks,” Viktor said evenly.
“And go where?” Irina asked indignantly. “You know very well I don’t have another apartment.”
“You’ll rent one. I send you child support, and it’s not small. You can live well on it; it’ll cover a whole apartment,” Viktor confidently stated.
“That’s not how it’s done, Viktor. You promised,” Irina’s voice carried a plea.
“Stop it. I don’t have another apartment, at least not like this one. So two weeks is enough time for you to find a home and move out. Do you understand?” Viktor’s voice had a steely note.
“No, you don’t understand. This is where your daughter lives. I repeat — your daughter, whom you don’t visit, whom you didn’t congratulate on her birthday. Have you completely forgotten about her?”
Heavy sighs came through the receiver. Viktor was silent for a few seconds, then coldly said:
“Two weeks,” and hung up.
Irina collapsed into a chair, powerless. Outside, the twilight deepened, and in her soul, the darkness of uncertainty and fear of the future thickened.
The night was one of the worst. Irina practically didn’t sleep; she kept thinking about what to do next. Yes, the apartment wasn’t hers, yes, Viktor had the right to evict her, yes, he paid child support. But if she now rented an apartment, there would hardly be any money left. Irina didn’t know what to do.
The dim light of early morning filtered through the curtains, coloring the room in shades of gray. Irina mechanically moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for her daughter. Her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes betrayed a sleepless night.
After feeding her daughter and getting ready to go out with her, Irina heard the doorbell ring. On the doorstep stood Margarita Vladimirovna, Viktor’s mother. Although they were divorced, the mother-in-law almost came to visit every day. She enjoyed playing with her granddaughter—she had walked with her when she was small, bathed her, taught her to walk, and now she began teaching her to draw and read.
Margarita Vladimirovna looked sharply at her daughter-in-law.
“What’s wrong with you?” noticing the dark circles under Irina’s eyes, the mother-in-law asked.
The girl sighed heavily, gathered courage, and quietly said:
“Viktor is evicting me.”
“Well, well, let’s hear more about this,” Margarita Vladimirovna picked up her granddaughter, kissed her on the cheek, and, entering the living room, sat down in a chair. “So, what happened?”
Irina told everything: how Yana had come, how she claimed the apartment was now hers, how she had called her ex-husband, and how he confirmed his fiancée’s words.
“Two weeks, just two weeks! But where will I go?” Irina spread her hands, looking at the furniture around her. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
Margarita Vladimirovna bowed her head. For some time, she was silent, then she stood up, approached the window, looked at the children running in the park. Coming back, she said in a soft voice:
“It’s my son’s right. It’s his apartment, and he decides what to do with it.”
“What about Alice?” Irina reminded her mother-in-law.
“I don’t know,” the woman sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” she repeated, and, approaching her granddaughter, stroked her head.
“He promised,” Irina reminded her of her husband’s given word.
“There are no promises that can’t be broken,” she sat down next to Alice, watched her draw, took a pencil, and corrected something in the drawing.
“Let’s do this, and you calm down for now. What Viktor has decided, I don’t know. He doesn’t inform me of what’s going on in his business or his life. But you know what,” the woman again stroked her granddaughter’s head, “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you,” Irina replied with hope in her voice.
“I’ll talk,” responded Margarita Vladimirovna and went to the exit.
“Are you leaving?” the girl was disappointed and went to see her off.
“Yes, I need to prepare for the conversation,” she replied and put on her shoes. Opening the door, she repeated: “I need to prepare.”
The woman stepped onto the landing, leaving Irina with mixed feelings of hope and anxiety. The heavy door closed, and Irina was left alone in the apartment, which might soon no longer be her home.
Margarita Vladimirovna stepped outside. The cold autumn wind immediately ruffled her hair, making her shiver. She paused for a moment, looking at the fallen leaves swirling in the air. This reminded her of the day her husband, Andrey, died.
It had been so long ago that she could hardly remember what he looked like. Their son Viktor had just turned two at that time. Margarita again felt the sense of disorientation and helplessness that had overwhelmed her at that moment. She didn’t know what to do then, just as her daughter-in-law didn’t know what to do now.
The woman slowly approached her car, opened the door, and sat behind the wheel. The car’s interior retained the scent of lavender — Margarita’s favorite perfume.
Looking at the road ahead, she remembered how unexpectedly her own mother turned away from her in a difficult moment. The only person who offered a helping hand was Elena Olegovna, her mother-in-law. She allowed the young widow with a child to live in her spacious apartment. And when the elderly woman died, the property passed into Margarita’s ownership.
The woman fastened her seat belt, took out the keys, and, inserting them into the ignition, turned them. The engine quietly purred.
“You’re not doing the right thing,” she said, addressing an invisible interlocutor. Her voice carried notes of reproach and disappointment. “You’re not doing the right thing by not talking to Irina yourself but sending your witch instead. That’s not right.”
She gently pressed the gas pedal, and the car smoothly started moving. The city streets were almost empty, only occasionally did passers-by hurry along their way. Margarita Vladimirovna drove slowly, lost in her thoughts and memories.
A couple of days passed. Margarita Vladimirovna decided to visit her granddaughter Alice. She rang the doorbell, and it immediately opened. On the threshold stood Irina, her daughter-in-law, with a bewildered look in her brown eyes, framed by long lashes.
“Nice to see you,” the hostess replied, trying to hide the excitement in her voice.
“Hello,” Margarita Vladimirovna responded reservedly. She gently kissed her daughter-in-law on the cheek and asked, “And where’s our little girl?” referring to her granddaughter.
“There, in the room, putting things away,” Irina replied quietly.
“Scattered again?” Margarita Vladimirovna asked and, removing her shoes, entered the living room.
She was surprised to see a dozen boxes, half of which were already filled with belongings. The room, usually cozy and bright, now looked like a battlefield strewn with scattered toys and clothes.
“Two weeks,” Irina said resignedly, approaching a bookshelf and picking up a book.
“You know what,” her mother-in-law approached, took the book from her hands, and put it back in its place, “hang in there for a couple of days, okay? Put the boxes aside. I haven’t talked to my son yet.”
“Mmmm,” Irina hummed, not knowing exactly what to respond.
“Well, where’s my little girl? Alice!” the grandmother called her granddaughter, and immediately her voice was answered by a little miracle running out of the bedroom.
“Grandma!” the girl shouted and jumped into the woman’s arms.
“Oh, my beauty! Oh, my darling!” Margarita Vladimirovna exclaimed, tightly hugging her granddaughter.
“Grandma, grandma, grandma!” was all the little girl could say, pressing against her grandmother.
“Well, shall we go for a walk?” the mother-in-law suggested to her daughter-in-law, carefully holding Alice in her arms.
“Uh… aaa…” Irina looked at the boxes, not knowing what to answer. Her gaze darted between the belongings and her mother-in-law.
“Hang in there until the end of the week,” Margarita Vladimirovna said softly but firmly.
“Alright,” Irina replied with relief and began to get dressed. Her movements reflected some indecision, but at the same time, hope appeared.
A few more days passed. Golden rays of autumn sunlight softly illuminated the hall of a luxurious restaurant when Margarita Vladimirovna entered. An elegant woman with a flawless hairstyle and an expensive suit, she immediately noticed her son Viktor at a table by the window. A young girl sat next to him.
Margarita Vladimirovna approached the table, giving her son’s companion a cold look, and sat down, addressing Viktor:
“And what is she doing here?” she asked, turning her head towards the girl.
“Mom, this is my fiancée,” her son replied, frowning slightly.
“I asked you to come for a conversation, not to meet her,” his mother said displeased.
Yana immediately felt unwelcome. She nervously fiddled with a napkin, not knowing where to look.
“Maybe I should go then?” she suggested in a quiet voice.
“No,” Viktor said firmly, and turning to his mother, he added, “I have no secrets from Yana.”
“So that’s how it is. Well, you’ll get rid of her sooner,” Margarita Vladimirovna remarked coldly.
Yana’s eyes blinked as if sand had gotten into them. She felt the color drain from her face.
“So, son, I asked you to come here to talk about the apartment,” Margarita Vladimirovna began, adjusting the pearl necklace around her neck.
“Mom, that issue is already resolved,” Viktor immediately guessed that his mother would stand up for his ex-wife’s interests.
“No, it’s not resolved,” she replied calmly, leaning back in her chair.
“I need this apartment. I’m marrying Yana, and we will live there,” the man insisted.
“No, you won’t. And here’s why,” Margarita Vladimirovna turned her head towards Yana. “You’d better plug your ears or go powder your nose, honey.”
“Stay,” Viktor said harshly, placing his hand on Yana’s shoulder.
“I just suggested,” his mother replied.
“Irina will move out,” Viktor stated confidently.
“So, young man, I want to remind you: the apartment where I live is mine.”
“Mom, but that’s just on paper!” her son immediately objected. “I registered it in your name because…”
“Because you’re dodging taxes. There’s the root of your problems,” his mother interrupted. “And the apartment where Irina lives was also bought by you. You transferred it to me, then asked to transfer it back, which I did. But you didn’t pay the taxes for it.”
“Mom, don’t meddle in my finances,” Viktor requested, his voice tense.
“I don’t want to remind you, my dear son, that I’m the founder of two of your companies,” his mother said calmly.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Viktor’s eyes fluttered like old windshield wipers.
“I’ve checked your documentation, matched your income and expenses. I don’t know what’s surprising, but the declaration of your income somehow doesn’t match your expenses. At least by a factor of 20.”
“Did you calculate that?” Viktor asked incredulously.
“I’m the founder. I have full access to your accounting. I know where you spend money, but what surprises me is that you forge my signatures.”
“Mom, that I’m the founder is just fi…”
The woman couldn’t stand it and slammed her hand on the table.
“Shut up,” she said harshly. “Another word, and I’ll fire you.”
“What?” Viktor’s face turned red, while Yana’s turned even paler.
“I’m the founder of these two companies that bring you money. I know how much you actually earn and how much you transfer to Irina. So my proposal is simple: you make a deed of gift to Irina and quadruple the amount of child support starting next month. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise what?” her son asked angrily.
“First option,” Margarita Vladimirovna replied, “I fire you. Second option—I file a police report. Choose whichever you find more suitable.”
Viktor leaned back in his chair. He understood that, by dodging taxes, he had dug himself into a hole. Yes, it helped him hide a large part of the income, and until this moment, his mother had never contradicted him.
“Viktor,” Yana muttered with a trembling voice.
“Be quiet,” he said dryly.
Margarita Vladimirovna took a handbag, took out a folded folder, laid her hand on it, and started tapping her fingers.
“There’s enough information here to get you interested,” she said, looking her son straight in the eyes.
Viktor’s eyes were glassy. He hadn’t thought his mother would ever betray him.
The woman took the folder and put it back in her bag, then stood up and, thanking Viktor for coming, calmly walked away, leaving behind a trail of expensive perfume and a heavy atmosphere of tension.
A few more days passed. Margarita Vladimirovna, by habit, approached the familiar door. She pressed the doorbell, and immediately somewhere deep in the apartment, a joyful cry of her granddaughter was heard.
“Little one,” the elderly woman said with a smile on her lips.
The door opened, and her daughter-in-law, Irina, let her mother-in-law into the house.
“Grandma! Grandma! Grandma!” the little girl joyfully jumped on Margarita Vladimirovna’s neck.
“My beauty! My darling!” the grandmother exclaimed, tightly hugging her granddaughter.
“Grandma, grandma, grandma!” was all the little girl could say, clinging to her grandmother.
“Well, shall we go for a walk?” the grandmother offered to her daughter-in-law, admiring her granddaughter’s glowing face.
“Yes!” the girl shouted loudly and, getting down from her grandmother’s arms, ran to get dressed, her little feet tapping on the parquet.
Margarita Vladimirovna turned to her daughter-in-law, giving her an attentive look.
“So, how are you feeling?” she addressed the hostess, noticing the shadows under her eyes.
“Terrible,” she replied and, entering the living room, spread her arms wide.
The mother-in-law followed her. Almost all the cabinets were empty, and a mountain of boxes piled up along the walls. The sunlight streaming through the loosely drawn curtains illuminated the chaos reigning in the room.
“Wow, I didn’t think there would be so many things,” Margarita Vladimirovna whistled.
“Yeah, I didn’t think they would add up to so much,” Irina sighed, running her hand through her hair.
“Well, good for you,” the mother-in-law nodded approvingly.
“I’ll get Alice dressed now,” Irina bustled.
“Wait,” Margarita Vladimirovna stopped her. She opened her handbag and took out several sheets of paper, handing them to her daughter-in-law. “Take these,” she said, and went to help her granddaughter get dressed.
Irina took the papers and began to read intently. She didn’t notice how tears started streaming down her cheeks. Approaching Margarita Vladimirovna, the girl hugged her and whispered quietly:
“Mom… thank you so much.”
“Mom?” Alice was surprised and looked attentively at her grandmother with her big brown eyes.
“Yes, darling, mom,” Irina replied, hugging the woman even tighter.
“I would never let anyone hurt my granddaughter,” Margarita Vladimirovna said softly, patting her daughter-in-law on the back.
“Thank you,” Irina replied, trying not to cry, wiping her eyes.
“Well, are we going for a walk or what?” the mother-in-law tried to lighten the emotional atmosphere.
Alice immediately shouted:
“Yes!”
Irina approached a box, opened it, and, taking out a worn teddy bear—Alice’s favorite toy—placed it back on the shelf. A ray of sunlight, breaking through the curtains, lit up the teddy bear’s face, as if welcoming it back home.