Anna was flipping the fried eggs in the pan when Dmitry’s sharp voice sounded behind her.
“More extensions? What do you mean, more extensions?” Her husband pressed the phone to his ear, pacing nervously around the kitchen. “I told you—by the end of the month… No, it won’t work any earlier!”
Anna froze with the spatula in her hand. Dmitry rarely raised his voice.
“Okay, okay.” He tossed the phone onto the table and rubbed his face with both palms.
“What happened?” Anna turned off the stove and faced her husband.
“The bank,” Dmitry sank onto a chair. “Mom and I are in serious trouble. The café… the debts are growing every day. The bank is threatening to take everything that’s been put up as collateral.”
Anna sat down across from him. In three years of marriage, Dmitry had never looked so at a loss.
“How serious is it?”
“Serious enough that we could lose everything,” he took her hand in his. “Anya, I need to know how much you’ve saved. Maybe we can do something.”
Anna slowly pulled her hand free and stood to plate breakfast. Savings… She had been building them for five years, setting aside a little from every paycheck.
“Dima, let’s talk about this tonight,” she said, avoiding a direct answer. “I have to get to work.”
At the office, Anna tried to focus on the reports, but her thoughts kept circling back to the morning conversation. Dmitry had always seemed so sure of himself. That morning she had seen him genuinely frightened for the first time.
“Anya, why so pensive?” her colleague Sveta asked, peeking over the partition.
“Oh, you know—family stuff,” Anna pulled her eyes from the monitor.
“I met up with a friend yesterday,” Sveta perched on the edge of the desk. “Can you imagine—she climbed into her husband’s debts, lost their apartment. Now she’s living with her mother with two kids.”
“Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. He told her about ‘temporary difficulties,’ and meanwhile he was draining money to nowhere. She believed him, helped, and ended up with nothing.”
Anna nodded, but Sveta’s words stuck like a painful splinter.
At six in the evening, the phone rang.
“Anya, could you stop by Mom’s, please?” Dmitry asked. “She wants to talk to us.”
Valentina Petrovna’s eyes were red from crying. Anna’s mother-in-law sat at the kitchen table with a stack of documents spread out before her.
“Anechka, dear,” the woman sobbed. “The bank has given a final ultimatum. In a month they’ll take the café for the debts.”
“Mom, calm down,” Dmitry sat beside her.
“How can I calm down?” Valentina Petrovna grabbed a napkin. “This is the work of my life! I’ve been running that café for twenty years! And those bankers want to take everything away!”
Anna listened to her mother-in-law’s lament and watched Dmitry. He sat with a grim face, patting his mother’s shoulder in consolation.
“Our competitors set us up! And the crisis… Who could have imagined it would be like this?” Valentina Petrovna went on. “Anechka, you’re part of our family. We’re counting on you.”
Dmitry shot his wife a meaningful look.
On the way home, her husband was silent.
“Mom is really upset,” he finally said. “She could lose the family business.”
Anna kept her silence.
At home, already in bed, Dmitry spoke plainly:
“Anya, I need your help. Lend us money to save the café.”
“How much do you need?”
“It’s temporary—we’ll pay everything back when things pick up,” he hugged her. “But we need a large sum. We could take out a loan secured by the apartment.”
Anna shot upright in bed.
“Dima, are you seriously suggesting we risk the apartment?”
“It’s not a risk, it’s an investment in our common future,” he sat up too.
“Give me time to think,” Anna lay back down and turned to the wall.
The next morning Dmitry was pointedly tender—he brought coffee to her in bed, kissed the crown of her head.
“Anya, I know I’m asking a lot,” he said softly. “But we’re a family. We’ll return everything, I promise.”
Anna nodded, but inside everything tightened. The apartment was her safety— the result of many years of work. Her mother had always said: never risk your home.
“I’ll think about it,” she repeated. “But I’m not ready to risk the apartment yet.”
A week passed in silence. On Friday Dmitry burst in, grim-faced.
“That’s it, Anya,” he threw his bag on the floor. “The bank accelerated collection. There’s no time left.”
“What does that mean?”
“In two weeks they’ll take the café,” he sank heavily onto a chair. “Mom’s hysterical.”
Anna froze at the stove.
“Anya, the apartment is the only way to get money quickly,” he said bluntly. “There are no other options.”
“Maybe find investors? Or make a deal with the bank?”
“Anya, you live in your own world! We’ve tried everything!”
That night, Anna woke to her husband whispering by the window.
“Mom, what can I do? She’s being stubborn… Yes, I’ll try talking to her again…”
On Saturday her mother-in-law invited them for lunch. The whole family gathered at the table.
“Anechka, dear,” Valentina Petrovna ladled out borscht. “A real wife should trust her husband. In hard times the family must pull together.”
“Anechka, a little risk never hurt anyone,” Dmitry’s sister added. “You’ll save the family business.”
“Investments in business always pay off,” her husband chimed in.
“You know, Anya,” Dmitry put his hand on her shoulder, “we need to sell the apartment. It’s the only way out.”
“Sell it? You used to say ‘put it up as collateral.’”
“A mortgage won’t give us the amount we need,” Dmitry replied calmly.
Anna rose from the table.
“Excuse me, I need the restroom.”
In the bathroom, Anna called her friend Olga.
“Olya, can we meet? I need to talk.”
The next day at a café, Olga listened carefully.
“Anya, what if the café can’t be saved?” her friend asked. “Remember Lena from the bank? Her husband asked her to sell the apartment for his business. She agreed. The business went under, and she lost the apartment. Anya, no one has the right to force you to risk your housing. Not even your husband.”
That evening Anna came back with a firm decision.
“Dima, I’m not selling the apartment,” she said outright.
“What do you mean, you’re not?” her husband’s voice turned hard.
“I’m not. That’s my final decision.”
“Anya, do you understand what you’re doing?” Dmitry shot to his feet. “You’re destroying the family! Pure selfishness!”
“I’m protecting our home!”
“You only think about yourself! You don’t care about the family!”
“That’s not true! I’m ready to help—just not at the cost of the roof over our heads!”
“A real wife trusts her husband!” he shouted. “You’re not even a woman—just a selfish brat!”
Dmitry grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To people who understand what family means!” he threw over his shoulder and slammed the door.
For three days Dmitry didn’t show up. On Thursday he returned with roses.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I was wrong. The stress got to me; I lost control.”
Anna accepted the flowers, but the tension remained.
“Dima, I want to help your mother too, but…”
“I know,” he hugged her. “We’ll think of something. The main thing is that we’re together.”
The next day Valentina Petrovna called.
“Anechka, come over this evening,” her voice sounded official. “We need to talk.”
Anna drove to her mother-in-law’s with a heavy sense of foreboding. Valentina Petrovna met her at the door with a stony face.
“Come in, sit down,” the older woman pointed to the couch where Dmitry was already sitting.
A stack of documents with bank stamps lay on the table.
“Anechka, see for yourself,” Valentina Petrovna took the top sheet. “There’s almost no time left before they inventory the property. After that, they’ll take everything.”
Anna silently studied the papers. The debt figures made her throat tighten.
“We demand that you sell the apartment and hand over the money to save the café,” the mother-in-law went on harshly. “It’s your duty to the family.”
“Mom’s right,” Dmitry said quietly. “You have to save the family.”
Anna raised her head and looked at them both. Two faces, full of resolve.
“Give me time to think,” she said, standing up.
“There is no time!” shouted Valentina Petrovna. “Decide now!”
“Tomorrow,” Anna answered firmly and left.
At home she walked through the apartment, touching familiar things. These walls had seen her tears after hard days, the joy of her first successes at work. The apartment wasn’t just a place to live—it was her independence, the result of many years of labor.
The phone rang.
“Anya, so what did you decide?” Dmitry’s voice was tense.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she said and hung up. “And tonight, stay at your mother’s.”
The next day Anna arrived at her mother-in-law’s with a firm decision. Valentina Petrovna and Dmitry were waiting in the living room.
“I’m not selling the apartment,” Anna said from the doorway.
“What do you mean, you’re not?” the mother-in-law sprang to her feet. “You’re obliged to help the family!”
“That’s not my obligation,” Anna replied calmly.
“Anya, please,” Dmitry stepped closer. “We love each other…”
Anna looked at him carefully.
“Love? You love my apartment.”
Valentina Petrovna squealed:
“Ungrateful girl! If you won’t sell the apartment, what use are you?” She noticed the shock on her daughter-in-law’s face. “What did you think—he married you for nothing?”
Silence fell over the room. Dmitry paled, staring at his mother.
“Mom, why did you say that?” he whispered.
Anna exhaled slowly.
“Repeat what you said,” she asked quietly.
“I told the truth!” Valentina Petrovna was beside herself. “Thinks she’s some beauty! He married you for your apartment!”
Anna nodded and headed for the door. Dmitry tried to stop her.
“Anya, don’t listen to her! She’s speaking out of desperation!”
“Step aside,” Anna said, and walked out.
Late that evening Dmitry came home with a guilty look.
“I’m sorry—Mom lost her temper,” he began cautiously. “You know I love you…”
Anna sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea, looking at her husband as if he were a stranger.
“Dima, did you really marry me because of the apartment?” she asked quietly.
“Anya, what are you saying? I… I love you…” He avoided her eyes.
“Look me in the eyes and say it,” Anna stood.
Dmitry was silent, staring at the floor.
“Tomorrow I’m filing for divorce,” she said calmly.
A month later, Anna was signing the final papers at the lawyer’s office. The apartment remained hers—Dmitry hadn’t been able to prove any claim to it.
“Congratulations—you’re free,” the attorney said with a smile.
At home, Anna called her friend Olga.
“Olya, want to meet up this weekend?” she suggested. “We haven’t seen each other in ages.”
“Of course!” Olga was delighted. “How are things, overall?”
“Great,” Anna smiled. “For the first time in a long while, I’m truly free.”
After the call, Anna took out the property documents. Only her name stood on the title page. She began to make plans—maybe switch to a more interesting job, take the vacation she’d been dreaming about. The main thing was that she had preserved what mattered most—herself and her independence.
She smiled, looking at the documents. Free.