Vera absentmindedly poured coffee into a large mug and froze, staring out the window. Spring had been strange this year: snow, then rain, then sudden warmth that made city flowerbeds bloom with tulips too early—only to be followed by another cold snap. She rubbed her shoulders as if trying to warm up, even though the apartment was cozy.
The door to the adjacent room opened, and Vera glanced at the clock.
“Zlata, you’re home early,” she said, noticing her daughter at the kitchen doorway.
“Last two classes were canceled,” Zlata replied, heading for the fridge and taking out some orange juice. “The teacher’s sick.”
“And your homework?” Vera asked sternly.
“Did it last night,” Zlata said, pouring the juice and sitting on the edge of a chair. “Mom, what time is David coming?”
Vera frowned. Her daughter always called her stepfather by his first name, refusing to use the word “dad,” which irritated David. Lately, almost everything about Zlata annoyed him.
“Around seven, he said,” Vera replied, noticing her daughter’s face tense slightly. “Why? Do you have plans?”
“Kind of,” Zlata waved vaguely. “I wanted to study with Vika. We’ve got a physics test on Monday.”
“You could do it here,” Vera suggested. “There’s enough space.”
“No, better at her place,” Zlata replied quickly. “She’s got all the books… and it’s just easier.”
Vera nodded in understanding. Recently, Zlata had been spending less time at home, especially when David was around. Any little thing could set him off—loud music, a mug left out, schoolbooks on the table. Vera had started to feel that her daughter no longer felt at home in her own house.
“Mom, can I stay over at Vika’s?” Zlata asked softly. “Her parents went to their country house. We were going to watch a movie.”
“Of course,” Vera said without questioning further. What did it matter if her daughter was telling the truth? The important thing was, she wouldn’t be around to irritate David. Which meant a peaceful evening without remarks or tension.
David had entered their lives three years ago. Tall, confident, with a thoughtful gaze and good manners. He worked as a department head in a respectable company and had a stable income. He treated Vera kindly, even tenderly. But things with Zlata had been complicated. At first, he tried—gave her gifts, asked about school. But over time, his patience wore thin.
David’s irritation grew. He began criticizing her behavior, appearance, habits. Vera tried to smooth things over, reminding him Zlata was growing up and needed more freedom. But David waved it off:
“I don’t hit her, be grateful for that,” he snapped once, and Vera shuddered inside. Was she supposed to be thankful just because her husband didn’t hit her daughter?
The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. On the doorstep stood Anna Mikhailovna—Vera’s grandmother, a petite but incredibly energetic woman with a straight back and sharp eyes.
“Granny, hi!” Vera hugged her. “Come in!”
“Close the door, you’re letting in the cold,” grumbled Anna Mikhailovna as she entered.
Zlata peeked out of her room and lit up.
“Anna Mikhailovna!” she exclaimed, rushing to hug her great-grandmother. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“What, can’t I drop by family without warning?” the old woman joked, then smiled warmly. “I came to check on you—and I’ve got news.”
“What kind of news?” Vera and Zlata asked in unison, helping her take off her coat.
“Later,” she said firmly. “First, give me some tea—I’m freezing.”
Over tea, Anna Mikhailovna watched her great-granddaughter closely. The girl had changed. Once cheerful and open, she now seemed withdrawn, troubled. That worried the perceptive elder.
“So, how’s school?” Anna Mikhailovna asked, tearing a piece of bun.
“Okay,” Zlata shrugged. “Physics is a bit rough.”
“And your art? You used to love drawing.”
“No time now,” Zlata glanced at the clock. “Prepping for exams, tutors, all that.”
“I see,” the elder nodded and turned to Vera. “Where’s your husband?”
“At work,” Vera said. “He should be back this evening.”
“Good,” said the old woman, sipping her tea. “I need to talk to you. Something important.”
Vera tensed. Her grandmother rarely got serious.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“My sister died,” said Anna Mikhailovna calmly. “Half a year ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” Vera said awkwardly.
“She was 92—lived long enough. But that’s not why I’m here. She left me her apartment. A whole one-bedroom.”
“What now?” Vera asked cautiously. “You’re not moving?”
“Of course not!” the old woman scoffed. “I’m not going anywhere at my age. But I have an idea.”
She glanced at Zlata, who leaned in curiously.
“I’m giving the apartment to Zlata,” she said. “Let the girl have her own place.”
Zlata froze in disbelief.
“What? Me? Seriously?”
“Why not?” the old woman replied. “You’re turning eighteen soon. Starting adult life. Your own place is a great support.”
“Grandma…” Vera was speechless. “That’s… incredibly generous.”
“It’s not about generosity,” the elder cut in. “I won’t live forever. It’s time to settle who gets what. You’ll get my apartment, Vera. And Zlata—she’ll get this one. It’ll ease my heart and help my great-granddaughter.”
Zlata jumped up and hugged her.
“Thank you so much! This is unbelievable!”
Vera saw the joy on her daughter’s face—and it warmed her heart. She hadn’t seen Zlata so happy in a long time.
“But there’s one condition,” Anna Mikhailovna added strictly. “Top grades. No Cs.”
“I promise!” Zlata said solemnly.
“Then it’s settled,” said the elder. “The papers are ready. Just need to finalize the gift deed.”
The next two weeks flew by in a blur. Despite her age, Anna Mikhailovna was full of energy. The paperwork was finalized quickly, the deed signed, and soon Zlata became the legal owner of a small apartment in a quiet neighborhood not far from the city center. The place needed serious renovation, but that didn’t faze Zlata—she was already making plans on how to turn it into her own cozy space.
When David found out about the gift, he was silent at first. Then he started asking questions—about the location, square footage, the apartment’s condition. Soon, he began subtly offering suggestions on how best to use it.
“It’s a good area, prices are going up,” he remarked over dinner. “Could rent it out for a decent income.”
“I’m not renting it,” Zlata replied. “I want to live there when I start university.”
“Nonsense,” David waved her off. “That’s six months away. The place will just sit empty. Might as well get some use out of it—it’s in the family, after all.”
Zlata glanced at her mother but said nothing. Later that night, she confessed to Vera that the apartment felt like a sanctuary—somewhere she could finally feel free, without constantly being afraid of doing something wrong.
A month later, as Zlata slowly started moving some of her things into the new apartment, David suddenly came up with a “reasonable” idea:
“You know,” he said to Vera, “I’ve been thinking—Zlata’s too young to live alone. It’s too much responsibility. But my mother, she’s all alone in the village… it’s hard for her at her age.”
Vera grew tense. She saw where this was going.
“She should move to the city, be closer to us. And we just happen to have an apartment. Perfect solution!”
“Wait,” Vera set down her cup. “You’re suggesting your mother should move into Zlata’s apartment?”
“Exactly,” David nodded as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “It’s family property. Zlata still lives with us anyway. My mother needs help.”
“David, that apartment belongs to Zlata,” Vera said firmly. “It was a gift from my grandmother. It’s her personal property—only she can decide what to do with it.”
“You can’t be serious,” David’s face flushed with anger. “What personal property? What rights? She’s a minor! And you’re indulging her whims? My mother can’t stay in that village anymore! She needs support, and that apartment is sitting there unused!”
“Still, it’s her apartment,” Vera repeated calmly. “And no one will make decisions about it without her consent.”
David threw down his napkin and stood up.
“Do you hear yourself?” his voice trembled. “My mother is alone, she’s ill—and your daughter just gets handed an apartment out of the blue? And you deny me this?”
Vera stood too.
“I’m not denying you anything. But the apartment belongs to Zlata. It’s up to her.”
“Why?” David laughed bitterly. “Why should she get to decide? The place is empty, and you’re being stubborn! Why can’t my mom move in?”
“Because it’s Zlata’s,” Vera said again. “And she plans to live there after she starts school.”
“And who says she even will?” David wouldn’t back down. “What a fantasy! She’s been living with us—let her continue! That place could be useful.”
“No, David,” Vera shook her head. “That won’t happen.”
David looked at her with such hatred, she instinctively stepped back.
“Oh, I see,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “You don’t care about my mother. Or me. All for this… your…”
The front door slammed. Zlata had come home, and David instantly went quiet.
“What’s going on?” she asked, looking warily at her angry stepfather.
“Nothing, sweetie,” Vera said quickly. “Just a little disagreement.”
“A disagreement?” David snapped again. “You call this a disagreement—putting your daughter above my mother? Above me?”
“Wait a second,” Zlata said, tense. “Why are you arguing about me?”
“Well, since you’re here,” David gave her a cold look, “maybe it’s time you explain to your mother that the apartment should go to my mom. Since you’re so independent and clever.”
Zlata turned pale.
“What? My apartment?”
“What’s the big deal?” David said with scorn. “You think you can just take and leave? Who’s supported you all these years? Who paid for tutors, clothes, food? And now you get an apartment and suddenly you’re ‘independent’?”
“David, that’s enough!” Vera grabbed his arm. “You’ve crossed a line!”
“No—you’ve crossed the line!” he shouted, pulling away. “My mother will live in that apartment—not that ungrateful brat!”
Vera froze, stunned by his words. In three years of marriage, David had never spoken so openly and viciously about Zlata. There had been tension, coldness—but this was pure hatred.
“David, you need to leave,” she said quietly. “Now.”
David glared at them both, then stormed out, slamming the door.
Zlata slumped into a chair, hugging her knees.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“It’s not your fault,” Vera hugged her. “You didn’t start this.”
That night, no one slept. Zlata tossed and turned, listening to every sound, wondering if David would come back. Vera sat in the kitchen, staring blankly out the window, trying to figure out when her marriage had gone so wrong.
In the morning, after Zlata left for school, David returned. Calm, composed, as if nothing had happened. He walked to the bathroom, shaved, sat at the table, and started working on his laptop like everything was normal.
Vera silently placed a cup of coffee in front of him.
“Thanks,” David said shortly, eyes on the screen.
Half an hour later, while Vera was cleaning, she overheard David talking on the phone.
“Hi, Mom,” he said cheerfully. “Yeah, remember the apartment I told you about? It’s settled. Get ready to move. I’ll come for you next week.”
Vera froze, rag in hand. David was talking as if yesterday’s argument had never happened, as if Zlata’s apartment was already spoken for.
“Yes, the area’s great,” he continued. “Close to us—we’ll see each other often. Everything’s perfect, don’t worry.”
He ended the call and stood up. Noticing Vera, he smiled.
“Why are you just standing there? Keep cleaning.”
“David,” she said, gripping the rag, “what was that just now?”
“What do you mean?” he replied, unfazed. “Oh, the call to Mom? I was just reassuring her.”
“So you’re still insisting?” Vera asked, tense. “After everything yesterday?”
“I lost my temper,” he waved it off. “You know how it is. Let’s just revisit the idea of my mom living there.”
“Explain this to me,” Vera crossed her arms. “Why are you so adamant? Why that apartment?”
“Because it makes sense!” David’s voice rose. “That girl isn’t my child. Why should I care about her well-being? My mother is blood—she needs it more. Isn’t it obvious?”
Silence filled the kitchen. Vera stared at her husband like she was seeing him for the first time.
“So you never saw Zlata as part of the family,” she said slowly. “All this time, you were just tolerating her?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” David turned away. “I wasn’t tolerating. Everyone has priorities. You’re my wife, I love you. Your daughter… she’s just an extra.”
“An extra?” Vera’s voice trembled. “My daughter is just an extra to you?”
“Oh, come on,” David checked his watch. “I’ve got to go to work. We’ll talk later.”
After the door closed behind him, Vera sat down, trying to process what she’d just heard. How had she not seen it sooner? How had she let it go this far?
Around noon, the door opened again. Vera jumped—was David back?
But it was Zlata.
“Why aren’t you at school?” Vera asked.
“Teacher’s still sick, last classes were canceled,” Zlata said, eyeing her mother. “What happened? You look… strange.”
Vera considered lying, but decided against it.
“David called his mother,” she said quietly. “Told her he’d bring her here next week. To your apartment.”
Zlata walked silently to her room. Vera followed—and froze. Her daughter was pulling clothes from her closet, packing them into a backpack.
“What are you doing?” Vera asked, though the answer was obvious.
“I’m leaving,” Zlata replied simply. “It’s better for everyone.”
“No!” Vera snapped. “You’re not going anywhere alone!”
“Mom,” Zlata looked up, her eyes red, “you see what’s happening. He hates me. He calls me a parasite. He wants me out of my own apartment. I can’t take it anymore.”
Vera watched her daughter packing. Images flashed before her eyes—Zlata avoiding home, hiding in her room, keeping her head down. And suddenly, it all became clear: she was about to lose her daughter. Forever.
“Wait,” Vera placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “We’ll go together. Right now.”
“But…,” Zlata looked around the room, confused. “What about…?”
“Just take the essentials,” Vera said, pulling out a travel bag. “We’ll get the rest later.”
For the next hour, they packed in silence. No tears, no breakdowns—just focused movements and short exchanges.
“Bring a warm sweater,” Vera said. Zlata nodded.
“Don’t forget your phone charger,” Zlata reminded. Vera nodded.
When they were ready, they looked around the apartment that had become a prison—and headed for the door. Just then, it opened.
David stood there.
“Where are you going?” he asked, glancing from wife to stepdaughter.
“We’re leaving,” Vera said calmly.
“Where?” he sneered, but worry flickered in his eyes.
“To Zlata’s apartment,” she replied firmly.
“You’re not going anywhere!” he blocked the exit. “That apartment’s for my mother!”
“David, move,” Vera said, her tone unwavering. “We’re going.”
“Over my dead body!” he exploded, grabbing her arm. “I won’t allow this madness!”
“Let go,” Vera said coldly. “Now.”
“What’s wrong with you, Vera?” David eased his grip. “You’re going to destroy this family over… your daughter?”
“This isn’t destroying a family,” she replied, pulling free. “This is saving one. My real family.”
David stood motionless as Vera grabbed the bags and Zlata opened the door. Everything seemed unreal to him, like a nightmare.
“You’re both insane!” he yelled after them. “Where will you go? You won’t survive without me!”
But they were already heading down the stairs, not looking back. David’s voice echoed behind them—meaningless now. The decision had been made.
Two hours later, Vera and Zlata stood in front of the apartment gifted by Anna Mikhailovna. On the way, they stopped at a store for some bread, cheese, and tea.
“We’re home,” Zlata said, surveying the small, cozy space.
Vera nodded silently. On the table lay an envelope and a covered plate. She opened the envelope and read the note:
“My dear girls! I always knew this day would come. May these walls be filled with love and peace. Tea’s in the cupboard, linens in the dresser. With love, your Anna Mikhailovna.”
“She knew,” Vera whispered, handing the note to her daughter. “She saw this coming.”
“She’s amazing,” Zlata replied, hugging her. “The kindest soul on Earth.”
They spent the evening unpacking, sipping tea, and planning what essentials to buy.
“You know,” Vera said as they lay side by side on a freshly made bed, “for the first time in ages… I feel calm.”
“Me too,” Zlata replied, taking her mother’s hand. “I was so scared you’d choose him over me.”
“I’m sorry,” Vera squeezed her hand. “I turned a blind eye for too long.”
The next morning, Vera went to a legal consultation. The lawyer explained the divorce process, potential issues, and warned her that David might try to claim assets.
“Is the apartment you lived in solely yours?” he asked, reviewing the documents.
“Yes, I inherited it from my parents before the marriage,” she confirmed.
“Then you should have no problems,” the lawyer assured. “The court likely won’t even grant a reconciliation period.”
Vera signed the papers and felt a strange sense of relief—like shedding a heavy burden she’d carried for years.
That evening, David’s messages poured in:
“Where are you?”
“Come home!”
“I didn’t mean it!”
“We need to talk!”
“I misunderstood!”
“We can fix this!”
Vera ignored them all. His words no longer meant anything. He had made his choice—he made it clear Zlata was nothing to him. Which meant Vera wasn’t part of his life anymore either.
A week passed. Vera found a job at a small office near their new apartment. Zlata graduated, passed her exams, and began planning for university. She even started painting again—Anna Mikhailovna had given her watercolor paints and an easel.
“You know,” Zlata said one evening over dinner in their tiny, cozy kitchen, “I never knew it was possible to live like this… without fear or tension.”
“Me neither,” Vera smiled. “Sometimes it takes a major shake-up to realize the simplest truths.”
A month later, the court granted the divorce. No disputes over property. David didn’t even show up—he sent a lawyer instead.
Vera and Zlata celebrated at a small restaurant. They ordered their favorite dishes and clinked glasses.
“To freedom,” said Zlata.
“To a real home,” Vera smiled.
That night, Vera sat at the window, watching the city lights. How long had she allowed a stranger to humiliate her child? Out of fear of being alone? Out of a desire to look “respectable”?
Now, all that felt distant and meaningless. There was no more room for fear, shouting, or reproach. Only safety, freedom, and love.