Alina carefully held the knife over the cutting board. She needed to slice carrots for the borscht, but her hands trembled slightly with tension.
“You’re cutting it all wrong,” Nina Petrovna came up from behind and took the knife away. “Watch closely how it should be done. In thin strips, like this.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know,” Alina replied quietly.
“You also put the dishes in the wrong place,” her mother-in-law continued, rearranging the plates. “In my house, everything has its own place.”
From the living room came Viktor Ivanovich’s voice:
“Modern girls have forgotten how to run a household. In our time, women knew how to manage things at home.”
Alina blushed but kept silent. Her father-in-law was clearly hinting at her.
“Be careful with the salt,” Nina Petrovna scolded. “Antosha has had a sensitive stomach since childhood.”
Anton appeared with a pleased smile.
“You’re doing wonderfully! Mom, thanks for helping Alina.”
“Of course, Antosha,” Nina Petrovna replied affectionately.
Weeks passed; visits to his parents became routine. Back in their rented one-bedroom apartment, Anton often praised his wife.
“Alina, you’re doing great,” he would say in the kitchen. “My parents see how hard you try. You just need to put in a little more effort to please them.”
Alina leaned tiredly against the countertop. Every day she endured her mother-in-law’s criticism—displeasure about her appearance, her job, and the lack of children a year into the marriage.
“Anton, your mother is never satisfied with anything,” she admitted. “And your father openly says you could have found a better wife.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Anton shrugged. “They just worry about our future.”
Alina sighed. Viktor Ivanovich really never held back when discussing his son’s choice of a spouse.
Anton’s birthday was approaching. Relatives and friends gathered in the living room of his parents’ house. Nina Petrovna solemnly presented her son with a box containing an expensive smartphone.
“Antosha, this is from Mom and Dad,” she announced. “The very latest model!”
The guests gasped in admiration as they examined the gift. Alina sat in the corner of the couch, as if invisible. No one paid her any attention.
“Our Anton has always been so smart,” Viktor Ivanovich boasted loudly to the guests. “It’s just a pity he got mixed up with this girl. He could have found someone more suitable for his status.”
Her father-in-law’s words cut Alina deeply. She clenched her fists, trying to stay calm. Anton laughed with his friends, oblivious to what was happening.
“Papa’s right,” Nina Petrovna supported her husband. “Antosha deserves better.”
Hot tears welled in Alina’s throat. She felt like a complete stranger among them.
Time flew by unnoticed. One ordinary morning Alina answered a call from an unknown number.
“This is Petrov’s notary office. Are you Alina Sergeevna Volkova?”
“Yes, that’s me,” Alina replied in surprise, sitting down on the couch.
“We have documents for you regarding an inheritance. Your grandmother, Ekaterina Mikhailovna, left you a three-room apartment in the city center.”
Alina was struck speechless. She hadn’t expected such a turn of events.
“Sorry, are you sure?” she asked again.
“Absolutely. The apartment is valued at ten million rubles. Please come tomorrow for the paperwork.”
Anton entered the room at that moment.
“What happened? You look so pale.”
“Grandma left me an apartment,” Alina whispered. “A three-room one, in the center.”
Anton sat down beside her, his eyes lighting up.
“Seriously? At last we’ll have our own place! Alina, that’s incredible!”
Alina nodded, still not fully grasping the scale of what had happened.
The week passed quickly with all the paperwork. Alina stood in the kitchen, looking through documents from the notary’s office. Anton came home from work and tossed his keys on the table.
“So, are all the papers ready?” he asked, peering over her shoulder.
“Almost,” Alina put the documents aside. “We just need to finalize the title registration.”
Anton hugged her by the waist and kissed her temple.
“Can you believe our luck?” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “A three-room apartment right in the center! We have to tell my parents.”
Alina froze in his arms. The thought of her in-laws’ reaction both frightened and excited her.
“Do you think we should?” she asked uncertainly.
“Of course!” Anton stepped back and looked her in the eye. “Let’s invite them to dinner tonight and share the news properly.”
Alina nodded slowly. Deep inside, a small hope flickered—maybe the news about the inheritance would change her in-laws’ attitude toward her.
That evening Viktor Ivanovich and Nina Petrovna sat on their small couch. Anton solemnly shared the news about his wife’s unexpected inheritance.
“Ten million rubles! What an expensive place you’ve inherited!” Nina Petrovna exclaimed, eyes wide. “Alinochka, you’re such a lucky girl!”
Her mother-in-law got up from the couch and unexpectedly hugged Alina tightly. She had never shown such warmth before.
“Our clever girl,” Nina Petrovna said gently, patting Alina’s back. “Such a lucky girl.”
Viktor Ivanovich cleared his throat and put on a serious face.
“Of course, this is wonderful,” he said gravely. “But young people need the help of experienced ones in managing such wealth. Real estate is a delicate matter.”
Alina sat in an armchair opposite, listening attentively. Anton settled beside his parents.
“What do you mean, Viktor Ivanovich?” she asked carefully.
“I work in this field,” her father-in-law explained, adjusting his glasses. “I know all the nuances of the real estate market. You’ll need sound advice.”
Alina naively rejoiced at their suddenly changed attitude. Nina Petrovna stuck close to her, continuing to call her smart and lucky.
A few days later, the whole family went to inspect the inherited apartment. Spacious rooms, high ceilings, parquet floors—it was all very impressive.
“My God, what a layout!” Nina Petrovna exclaimed as she went from room to room. “And the district is so prestigious, right in the center!”
Viktor Ivanovich busily examined every corner, taking notes in his notebook.
“At today’s prices, this kind of apartment will only increase in value,” he declared authoritatively. “A very promising investment.”
Alina stood by the large living room window, admiring the view of the city square. Nina Petrovna came up beside her.
“You know, Alinochka,” her mother-in-law said dreamily, “how nice it would be if our whole family lived together. Closer to each other.”
“What do you mean?” Alina didn’t understand.
“Well, it’s such a big apartment,” Nina Petrovna swept her hand across the spacious room. “For a young couple without children, it’s almost too luxurious.”
Her mother-in-law’s words made Alina wary, but she stayed silent. Anton and Viktor Ivanovich were in the next room, discussing the apartment’s technical condition.
In the following days, the parents’ visits became regular, with constant talk about the apartment. Every evening they came with new ideas about the inheritance.
Once again the whole family gathered in the parents’ kitchen. Viktor Ivanovich sat at the table, hands folded solemnly.
“You know, kids, I’ve been thinking a lot,” he began ceremoniously. “A three-room apartment really is too big for a young couple without children.”
Nina Petrovna nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “For us, such a spacious apartment in the center would be very handy. We’re not getting any younger.”
A knot of anxiety tightened inside Alina. Could the conversation really be heading where she suspected?
“Besides,” Viktor Ivanovich continued, “big apartments should go to the elders in the family. That’s how it’s always been.”
“But it’s my inheritance,” Alina objected timidly.
Viktor Ivanovich turned sharply toward her, his eyes flashing sternly.
“You’re our daughter-in-law,” he snapped. “That means the apartment is ours too.”
Alina froze, realizing her in-laws’ true intentions. They simply wanted to take her inheritance for themselves.
On the bus ride home, Alina sat silently, staring out the window. Anton tried several times to start a conversation but only got monosyllabic replies. Tension between the spouses grew with each stop.
At home, barely closing the door of their rented apartment, Alina turned to her husband.
“Anton, I need your clear position,” she said firmly. “After what your father said.”
Her husband shrugged awkwardly and walked into the kitchen.
“Alina, why be so categorical?” he began conciliatorily. “My parents are just worried about us, they want to help.”
“Help?” Alina followed him. “They want to take my apartment!”
Anton poured himself some water from the tap and slowly drank it.
“Maybe they’re partly right,” he said cautiously. “They do have more experience. They know better how to manage such property.”
Years of silent endurance were over.
“Anton, I have to tell you something,” she began slowly. “Your parents humiliated me every day of our marriage.”
“Alina, don’t exaggerate,” her husband waved his hand. “Mom can be strict, but she means well.”
“Strict?” Alina’s voice rose. “Your mother criticized my every step, every little thing! And your father openly said you deserve a better wife!”
Anton shook his head in disbelief.
“That can’t be true. You’re just overreacting.”
At that moment Alina made a decision. The next day she went to a law office.
The lawyer, a middle-aged woman in a strict suit, listened attentively.
“Your rights as the owner are absolute,” she explained clearly. “The apartment belongs exclusively to you as the heir under the will.”
“What if the relatives insist?” Alina asked.
“No one can force you to give away or sell the property,” the lawyer assured her. “Any pressure on their part is unlawful.”
The lawyer warned her about possible manipulations and gave her a clear plan to protect her interests.
That evening Anton’s parents came again. Viktor Ivanovich got straight to the point.
“Well, Alina, have you thought about our proposal?” he asked, settling on the couch.
“I’ve made my final decision,” Alina replied calmly. “The apartment remains my property.”
Nina Petrovna burst into tears and clutched her heart.
“God, what ingratitude!” she cried through sobs. “We took such good care of you!”
“Selfish girl!” Viktor Ivanovich exploded. “We accepted you as our own daughter!”
Anton paced between his wife and parents, unsure whose side to take.
“Alina, maybe we should find a compromise?” he pleaded.
“Anton, choose! Either your wife gives us the apartment, or divorce this snake!” Nina Petrovna snapped sharply.
“That’s right, son,” his father added. “We don’t need such a daughter-in-law.”
Her husband lowered his head and was silent for a long time. Finally he looked up at Alina.
“Maybe Mom’s right,” he said quietly.
That was the end.
After the parents left, the spouses were left alone. Anton sat on the couch; Alina packed her things into a bag.
“Alina, you’re destroying the family,” he accused. “Can’t you compromise for the sake of peace?”
“What peace, Anton?” Alina folded her last blouse. “The kind where I’m humiliated and used?”
“Then we’ll divorce. You’ll be left all alone!” her husband said coldly.
Alina nodded and zipped up her bag. An hour later she was standing in the spacious living room of her inherited apartment. High ceilings, parquet floors, large windows—all this now belonged only to her.
Anton remained alone in the rented one-room apartment. Alina settled into her new home, knowing she had made the right choice. She had learned to stand up for herself, even if it cost her marriage.