When the doorbell rang, I had no idea that in an hour my life would be turned upside down. The people at the door smiled so warmly that I was confused — after all, we weren’t selling anything. Then it turned out that my mother-in-law, Valentina Petrovna, had decided to dispose of our apartment without telling us a word. But let me start from the beginning.
My relationship with my husband’s mother had been disastrous since the very first days we met. Valentina Petrovna considered me arrogant, since I grew up in a family of academics. My parents were candidates of science, true Soviet intellectuals of the old school. But all of my achievements were the result of my own work. No one helped me get into university — I was admitted thanks to my own knowledge and perseverance. My parents worked in physics, while I chose philology, planning to become a teacher. Fate, however, had other plans — I defended my dissertation and stayed on to work at the same university where I studied.
My mother passed away a year and a half ago after bravely battling a long illness. My father could not survive the loss of his wife, with whom he had spent four decades. Twelve months without his beloved turned him into a different man — he aged, began losing his memory, and at times didn’t even recognize relatives. Watching a brilliant man, whom I had admired all my life, fade away was torture. He followed my mother three months ago, and I could not accept a world without them.
They say that losing your parents in adulthood is easier. It turned out that was a lie. You need your mother and father at any age, and my orphanhood was excruciating.
After my father’s death, I inherited a spacious one-bedroom apartment. Long ago, back in Soviet times, he had been given a three-room apartment as a scientist, after I was born. There was a special state program for academics that my father used. But in old age, my parents no longer needed such a large place, so they moved into a smaller apartment closer to our home.
My husband, Maxim, never pressed me to discuss the inheritance — I simply couldn’t cross the threshold of my parents’ home without breaking down in tears. Everything there remained untouched, as if time had stopped. On the desk lay my father’s glasses, the ones he wore every evening while reading in his favorite armchair. In the cabinet was my mother’s jewelry box beside a crystal tea set and salad bowls. I had often suggested she throw out those relics of the past, but she only smiled and, three times a year, carefully washed her treasures and placed them back. At New Year, she always brought out the crystal bowls for the holiday table.
After my parents’ deaths, I realized I could not handle the grief alone. I had to see a therapist. The specialist prescribed medication and helped me process the loss. My recovery was slow, and sometimes I would still pick up the phone by habit to call my father — to ask how he was, whether he wanted his favorite cookies or sweet pears…
“Tatiana, are you ready to talk about your dad’s apartment? Or is it still too soon?” Maxim asked gently one evening.
I looked at my husband and nodded sadly.
“It’s time to move forward. Let’s talk.”
“Bogdan is grown now, doesn’t want to go to high school, wants to apply to culinary college. I think we should give him your dad’s apartment so he can try living on his own. What do you think?”
I agreed without hesitation.
Maxim and I had married almost twenty years earlier. We hadn’t rushed into having children. I was working on my dissertation, which was extremely difficult. Later we took out a mortgage for the apartment we live in now — an old two-bedroom that needed major repairs. We continued renting while slowly fixing it up, eventually moving in, though the renovations dragged on for five more years. We couldn’t do it faster — sometimes Bogdan was born, sometimes money was short, sometimes we both worked nonstop, sometimes I was defending my doctorate. Life spun us in a whirlwind of events, but we held on together, and little Bogdan gave us the strength to endure anything.
A child really does discipline you — that’s true. Love for him becomes both compass and anchor. The first time I held my son, I felt such powerful energy that I could have moved mountains to protect him. Luckily, our quiet life offered no great dangers. He rarely got sick, adjusted easily to kindergarten, then to school, where he was an average but steady student. He had announced his wish to become a chef as early as the sixth grade. I just smiled, stroking his messy hair, sure his plans would change. But by ninth grade, he knew exactly what he wanted. So when Maxim suggested giving him the one-bedroom, I easily agreed. It was reasonable. Our boy wasn’t reckless — on the contrary. Confident, focused, Bogdan truly deserved independence.
“Besides, it’s already furnished — everything’s there. Let him live there, and we’ll see how he does,” I told Maxim.
“Maybe he’ll even move this summer. The main thing is passing the exams well.”
“Of course, the exams are the main thing. Besides, we already have a future daughter-in-law,” I smiled.
Bogdan had been dating a wonderful girl, Kristina, for two years. I liked her very much — polite, smart, beautiful. They made a lovely couple, and I promised myself I’d be the perfect mother-in-law. At least the opposite of mine.
Not long ago, Maxim and I had a serious fight. Once again, over his mother. For a long time, Valentina Petrovna had been pushing him to buy a country house for her and my father-in-law. When my husband hinted that we might help with the down payment — because “parents should be respected” — I exploded.
“Maxim, why should I spend the money I worked so hard for on your mother’s whims? We have a son, I want to live a little myself, travel, rest. And your mother comes demanding a private house? Forget it!”
“I’m not saying we should pay for everything. But we could help with some of it.”
“Listen, I’ve had enough of her. Always ‘buy me medicine, buy me groceries.’ And in return? Last time she came, opened our fridge, rummaging through pots, checking what I cooked! I’m a grown woman, the mistress of my own home. I won’t tolerate that!”
She had pulled tricks like that all our married life. When I was younger, I endured her insults silently. After Bogdan was born, I grew stronger and started fighting back. That’s when the real war began. She constantly criticized me, insulted me, found fault in everything. Even managed to quarrel with her grandson once, when he was about fourteen. He overheard her yelling at me and stormed into the kitchen, telling her to never insult me again, practically throwing her out the door. Since then, she held a grudge even against him, saying he took after me and not his father. But that only made us laugh.
Bogdan passed his exams brilliantly and entered culinary college without problems. We celebrated with cake and pizza and told him he could move into his grandfather’s apartment. He was delighted and thanked us. And then — the doorbell rang. It was Saturday, we weren’t expecting anyone. Maxim went to open it. Soon I heard my mother-in-law’s voice.
“I came to talk, son. Is your wife home?”
I greeted her politely and invited her to the table.
“Sit with us, Valentina Petrovna, we’re celebrating Bogdan’s admission.”
“Thank you. Congratulations, Bogdanchik. Smart boy, just like your mother,” she said, her tone mocking.
“So, what brings you here?” I asked directly.
“Your apartment is listed for sale. People will come see it in half an hour,” she said.
“What do you mean, our apartment is for sale?”
“Simple. Tatiana inherited one, you two don’t need such a big place anymore. Bogdan’s grown, why keep such space for just the two of you?”
“That’s also my apartment,” Maxim finally spoke up. “We bought it with a mortgage, spent years paying and renovating. Why should we sell it, Mom?”
“You’ll move into Tatiana’s parents’ place. With the money from this sale, you’ll buy us a country house. Whatever’s left — get Bogdan a room or studio.”
I burst out laughing, definitely from nerves.
“Are you out of your mind, Valentina Petrovna? Why would we buy you a house? You have your own apartment — sell it and buy whatever you like. But don’t touch our property!”
“Then sell your parents’ place. Why do you need so much real estate?” she pressed.
“Bogdan will live there. He’s grown, studying, moving out. Your dream of a country house is none of our concern. We have our own lives.”
“You’re greedy and selfish, Tatiana! And you, Maxim! Aren’t you ashamed? We raised you, and this is our thanks in old age!”
“Grandma, sorry, but having a child was your decision. Don’t come here trying to strip your son bare!” Bogdan suddenly defended us.
My mother-in-law stood up without touching the cake.
“Choke on your apartments!” she snapped, slamming the door.
We sat in silence.
“What was that?” Bogdan asked, wide-eyed.
That question oddly lightened the mood. But then — another ring at the door.
“Hello, we came to see the apartment!” a young woman smiled, holding the hand of a little boy about five.
The boy waved cheerfully.
“I’m so sorry, there’s been a terrible misunderstanding because of my mother-in-law. We’re not selling. But we can offer some candy! Would you like some, if your mom allows?” I asked him.
They both nodded, and I brought him a handful of sweets.
“Thank you, Auntie!” he said.
“Oh, this is so awkward! Valentina Petrovna insisted it was urgent. The area’s so nice, I came without my husband just in case…”
“No worries, it happens. Don’t worry, there are plenty of listings nearby,” I reassured her and closed the door warmly.
“Mom, do you mind if Kristina and I get married after school?” Bogdan asked when I returned. “Dad’s fine with it.”
“Uh… You’re grown now, Bogdan. Decide for yourself. I like Kristina very much.”
“You won’t demand we sell an apartment to buy you a country house?”
We all burst out laughing again.
That evening, my father-in-law called to apologize for his wife’s behavior. I told him not to worry — nothing bad had happened.
A week later, Bogdan moved out. We kept in close touch. Our relationship with Valentina Petrovna ended for good, and I didn’t regret it.
When Bogdan and Kristina graduated, they got married. I was amazed at how mature and grounded my son had become. A year later, they brought me a beautiful granddaughter, Polina. Maxim and I were thrilled to be grandparents. I considered selling my father’s apartment to help them, but Bogdan got a great job at a restaurant, and they bought their own place with a mortgage. We decided to rent out my dad’s apartment for extra income.