“Listen, Liza, I talked it over with Kostik,” Dima was turning his phone in his hands without looking at his wife. “He says it’s stupid to keep the apartment only in your name. If something happens, I’ll have to prove my rights later.”
“What rights?” Liza froze with a towel in her hands. “It’s my Aunt Vera’s apartment.”
“It was your aunt’s. Now we’re a family, so everything’s shared. Makes sense, right?”
Three weeks ago they had stood on the steps of the registry office. An autumn downpour lashed the guests’ umbrellas, and Liza laughed, turning her face up to the drops. Her veil was soaked through, but she didn’t care—Dima was beside her, her Dima, whom she had married despite her friends’ advice.
“Let’s hurry to the restaurant!” shouted Galina Petrovna, Liza’s mother, over the roar of the rain. “You’ll catch a cold!”
“Mom, come on!” Liza waved her off. “It’s a lucky sign!”
Viktor Sergeyevich, the bride’s father, silently held the umbrella over his wife, eyeing his son-in-law. Dima stood off to the side, shaking the drops off his jacket in irritation.
“Dimochka, don’t get wet!” fussed Antonina Vasilievna, the groom’s mother. “Go under the umbrella with Vadik!”
Vadim, Dima’s older brother, lazily held out his umbrella:
“Come on, get in. Just don’t shove.”
At the restaurant, Dima’s sister Karina settled at the next table with her husband Oleg. She was loudly discussing the gifts:
“Did you see it? Liza’s parents gave an envelope! An envelope! And we bought a tea set for twenty thousand!”
“Keep your voice down,” Oleg scolded. “They’ll hear you.”
“Let them hear!” Karina downed her champagne in one gulp. “It’s stingy!”
Marina, Liza’s younger sister, sat across from her, rolling her eyes:
“Kar, seriously? Talking about money at a wedding?”
“So what? I’m just being honest! Liza’s got a three-room apartment downtown, and Dima wasn’t even invited to move in there before the wedding! They lived in a rented studio!”
“Because Aunt Vera bequeathed the apartment to Liza,” interjected Galina Petrovna. “On the condition that she keep everything as it is. The deceased’s things, the library…”
“Oh, please!” waved off Antonina Vasilievna. “Things! Probably just old junk!”
After the third toast, Dima stood up and tapped his glass with a fork:
“Friends! I want to thank my friend and lawyer, Konstantin! Kostik, come up here!”
A tall, dark-haired man in a suit approached the newlyweds:
“Happy for you, guys! Dima, well done—snagged yourself a girl like that! And lucky with the apartment!”
Liza blushed:
“Thanks, but the apartment has nothing to do with it…”
“Oh, come on!” Konstantin winked. “We all get it! Dima, I’ll expect you at my office tomorrow. I’ll prepare the papers.”
“What papers?” Viktor Sergeyevich said warily.
“Just formalities!” Dima brushed it off. “I’ll tell you later!”
That evening at home, Dima pulled a folder from his briefcase:
“Liza, sign here and here.”
“What is it?”
“An application to re-register the apartment as joint property. Kostik prepared everything.”
“Dima, I told you—this is Aunt Vera’s apartment. She left it to me on the condition…”
“I know your conditions!” her husband cut her off irritably. “Keep the junk, don’t renovate! Nonsense! We’re a family now; the apartment should be shared!”
“But I promised my aunt…”
“Your aunt died three years ago! Stop living in the past!”
Galina Petrovna appeared in the doorway with a tray:
“I brought you tea… Oh, are you busy?”
“Come in, Mom,” Liza pushed the papers aside. “Dima wants to re-register the apartment.”
“That’s… that’s your decision,” Galina said cautiously. “It’s just that Aunt Vera…”
“Mom, don’t interfere!” Dima snapped. “This is between Liza and me!”
The next morning Dima woke up early. He took a drill and measuring tape out of the closet:
“I’m going to set up an office. In the room with the balcony.”
“That’s my aunt’s library,” Liza mumbled sleepily.
“It was a library. We’ll move the books up to the storage loft. Or toss them—who needs them?”
“Dima, those are rare editions! Some are a hundred years old!”
“Exactly! They’ve been gathering dust for a hundred years!” He switched on the drill. “First I’ll take down the shelves, then I’ll put in a desk. Kostik said we could knock down a wall to open up the space.”
“What wall?!” Liza shot up from the bed. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t yell! You’ll wake the neighbors! It’s a normal idea—combine the room with the kitchen, we’ll have a studio!”
“That’s a load-bearing wall!”
“How would you know? Are you an engineer?”
“Aunt Vera told me! She wanted to renovate and had specialists come in!”
“Your aunt wanted a lot of things!” Dima was drilling into the wall. “Where are the results?”
At noon, Antonina Vasilievna arrived with Karina:
“Dimochka, we brought curtains! For the office!”
“Thanks, Mom!” Dima pecked his mother on the cheek. “Liza, look at these!”
“Leopard print?” Liza stared at the fabric, bewildered. “For the library?”
“Former library!” Karina corrected. “Now it’s the director’s office!”
“What director?” Liza didn’t understand.
“What do you mean? Dima’s opening a company! With Kostik! He didn’t tell you?”
“No…”
“Oh, I ruined the surprise!” Karina clapped her hands theatrically. “Dimochka, forgive me!”
“It’s fine, she’d have found out anyway!” Dima hugged his wife. “I wanted to tell you on our anniversary, but since it’s out… Kostik and I are opening a construction firm. He’s the investor, I’m the director.”
“And the money?” Liza asked quietly.
“What money? Kostik is investing!”
“And the office?”
“Right here! In my office! Why are you looking at me like that? Paying rent is stupid when you have your own space!”
That evening Liza called her parents:
“Dad, can I come over?”
“What happened?” Viktor Sergeyevich asked, alarmed.
“I just need to talk.”
An hour later she was sitting in their kitchen. Galina Petrovna poured tea silently; her father frowned:
“Tell us.”
“Dima wants to re-register the apartment. Fifty-fifty. And set up an office there. He’s opening a company.”
“He’s moving fast,” Viktor shook his head. “It’s only been three weeks.”
“Dad, what should I do? I don’t want to betray Aunt Vera’s memory, but I also don’t want to refuse my husband…”
“Do you love him?” her mother asked bluntly.
“I do… I think… I don’t even know anymore!”
“Liza,” her father slid the keys to their apartment toward her. “If it comes to it—come back. Your home is always open.”
“Dad, I’m married!”
“So what? Marriage isn’t hard labor. If you want to leave—leave.”
When Liza got home, the place was a wreck. A huge desk stood in the former library, books were strewn across the floor, and Dima and Konstantin were drinking cognac:
“Oh, the wife is back!” Konstantin raised his glass. “To marital bliss!”
“Kostik brought over a contract,” Dima handed Liza some papers. “For the company. You’ll be listed as a co-founder.”
“Me? Why?”
“What do you mean why?” Konstantin sounded surprised. “The apartment’s still yours for now! To register the company, you need the owner’s address!”
“For now?” Liza repeated.
“Well, until you re-register it! Dima said you’re going to the notary tomorrow!”
“I never said I was going.”
“Liza, don’t start!” Dima poured more cognac. “Not in front of my friend!”
“Precisely in front of your friend I’ll say it! The apartment stays in my name. That’s Aunt Vera’s will.”
“The will of a dead woman!” Konstantin burst out laughing. “Dima, your wife’s taken up spiritualism!”
“Kostya, I think it’s time for you to go,” Liza said coldly.
“He’s my friend!” Dima flared. “Don’t you dare throw him out of our home!”
“My home,” Liza corrected. “Still my home.”
That night Liza couldn’t sleep. Dima snored beside her, reeking of booze. She quietly got up and went to the ravaged library. She picked an album up off the floor—Aunt Vera smiled from yellowed photographs.
“Forgive me, Auntie,” Liza whispered. “I promised to preserve it, and here I am…”
In the morning she was awakened by a crash. Dima and Vadim were carrying out the bookcases:
“Careful! Those are antiques!” Antonina Vasilievna yelled after them.
“Mom, it’s junk!” Dima shouted back. “We’ll take it to the dump!”
“STOP!” Liza blocked their way. “Where are you going?”
“Making space!” Vadim shoved her with his shoulder. “Move!”
“These are MY things!”
“Ours!” Dima barked. “Ours, got it? We’re a family!”
“If we’re a family, why didn’t you ask my opinion?”
“What’s there to ask? Kostik said we need an office. So, we’ll have an office!”
“Kostik said!” Liza mimicked him. “And what your wife says doesn’t matter?”
“Stop the hysterics!” Dima grabbed another shelf. “Vadik, help me!”
Liza lunged for her phone:
“Marina? Come IMMEDIATELY! Bring Dad!”
Half an hour later, the apartment had turned into a battlefield. On one side—Dima and his relatives; on the other—Liza with her parents and sister.
“This is private property!” shouted Viktor Sergeyevich. “You have no right!”
“I’m her husband!” Dima yelled back. “I have every right!”
“By law the apartment belongs to Liza!” Marina cut in.
“Oh, go to hell with your laws!” Karina snapped. “The apartment wasn’t even earned! She got it as an inheritance!”
“So what?” Galina Petrovna retorted. “Does that change anything?”
“It does!” Antonina Vasilievna jabbed a finger at her. “Your daughter is greedy! She won’t share with her own husband!”
“Dimochka spent the whole evening preparing documents!” Karina lamented. “He was doing it for the family!”
“For what family?” Liza couldn’t hold back. “For his company with Kostik?”
“None of your business!” Dima roared. “If I want, I’ll open ten companies!”
“Go ahead! Just not in MY apartment!”
“Oh, your apartment?” Dima hurled a book to the floor. “So you don’t trust your husband?”
“After what you’ve done? No!”
“Then go run back to your parents!” he kicked the fallen volume. “And take your precious apartment with you!”
“You get OUT!” Liza shouted. “All of you!”
“Dimochka, she can’t throw you out!” wailed Antonina Vasilievna. “You’re legally married!”
“That means nothing!” Viktor cut her off. “The apartment is premarital, in my daughter’s name. LEAVE, and do it the easy way!”
“Yeah right, as if!” Vadim blocked the doorway. “Dima’s already registered here!”
“What?” Liza was stunned. “When did that happen?”
“Yesterday!” Konstantin announced triumphantly, appearing from the kitchen. “I filed all the paperwork! Now Dima is a full-fledged resident here!”
“You… you…” Liza could barely breathe. “That’s fraud!”
“That’s the law, baby!” Konstantin waved the folder. “A husband has the right to register!”
“Exactly!” Dima dropped into a chair. “So you lot can get out of MY home!”
“Not yours!” Marina rushed to her sister. “Liza, don’t be silent!”
“Let him choke on it,” Liza suddenly said calmly. “Let him live here. I’m leaving.”
“What?” Dima was taken aback. “Where are you going?”
“To my parents’. Temporarily.”
“And don’t you dare come back!” he shouted after her. “I’ll change the locks!”
“Dimochka is right!” chimed in Antonina Vasilievna. “A wife shouldn’t run away from her husband!”
“This isn’t running away,” Liza took only her handbag. “It’s a decision.”
“Liza, what about your things?” Marina asked.
“I’ll take them later. When he’s no longer here.”
“Not here?” Dima burst out laughing. “I’m here for good! An office, a company! It’s all happening!”
“We’ll see,” Liza said as she walked out the door.
“We sure will!” Konstantin shouted after her. “You’ll come crawling back in a month!”
A month passed. Liza lived with her parents and didn’t answer Dima’s calls. At first he threatened her, then begged her to return, then threatened again.
“Sweetheart, maybe you should talk to him?” Galina suggested timidly.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Mom. He showed his true face.”
“But you had a church wedding…”
“No church. Just the registry office. Thank God.”
Marina brought news every day:
“Can you imagine, they started renovations! The neighbors are complaining!”
“Let them. It’s their problem now.”
“Liza, but the apartment is yours!”
“I know. I have a plan.”
Two weeks later a call came from an unfamiliar number:
“Elizaveta Viktorovna? This is the management company. We’ve had complaints about your apartment.”
“What kind of complaints?”
“Illegal remodeling, noise, an office set up without permission. Can you come?”
“I can.”
Liza didn’t recognize her aunt’s cozy nest. The walls were painted black, the bookshelves replaced by racks of folders, computers everywhere.
“What are you doing here?” Dima burst out of the office. “I told you not to show up!”
“I was called in. Complaints from the neighbors.”
“What complaints? Everything’s legal!”
“Under what law did you knock down a wall?” asked a representative of the management company. “Do you have a permit?”
“Kostik said we didn’t need one!” Vadim butted in.
“Kostik was wrong,” Liza said coolly. “That was a load-bearing wall.”
“Was—wasn’t, what’s the difference?” Dima snapped. “It’s my apartment!”
“Mine,” Liza corrected. “Here are the documents.”
“We’ll look into it,” the management company rep nodded. “For now, stop all work.”
After he left, Dima pounced on his wife:
“You did this on purpose! You snitched!”
“Me? The neighbors called! You’re keeping them from sleeping!”
“It’s all your fault!” he yelled. “Because you’re greedy!”
“No, because you’re brazen!”
Konstantin appeared in the doorway:
“What’s the racket?”
“Liza staged an inspection!”
“Not me. The neighbors.”
“Doesn’t matter!” Konstantin stepped up close. “Listen here, little girl. We’re doing business here. Serious business. Don’t you dare get in the way!”
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Is that a threat?”
“A warning.”
Liza took out her phone:
“Hello, Marina? Note this down—they’re threatening me in my apartment. Konstantin… what’s your last name?”
“What are you doing?” he stammered.
“Recording the threats. For the police.”
“Screw you!” Konstantin bolted out the door.
“And you get lost!” Dima shouted. “I’m filing for divorce tomorrow!”
“Excellent! I’ll be waiting!”
As she left, Liza heard Antonina lamenting:
“Dimochka, don’t lose your temper! She’ll come to her senses!”
“She won’t, Mom! Kostik has a new plan. We’ll take the apartment through court. As jointly acquired!”
“But it’s premarital…”
“Kostik’s a lawyer! He knows loopholes!”
The divorce papers arrived three days later. Liza signed without looking. Viktor frowned:
“Maybe hire a lawyer?”
“No need, Dad. I have another plan.”
“What plan?”
“You’ll see.”
A week later the management company called again:
“Elizaveta Viktorovna, please come immediately! There’s an emergency at your place!”
Police, neighbors, and inspectors from the technical bureau were in the apartment. Dima sat pale on a chair; Konstantin was trying to explain something to an officer:
“It’s a misunderstanding! We were just doing some renovations!”
“Renovations?” the major pointed to a huge crack in the wall. “You touched a load-bearing wall! The entire building is at risk!”
“We didn’t know!” Vadim babbled.
“You didn’t know?” The major turned to Liza. “Are you the owner?”
“Yes.”
“Did you give permission for the remodeling?”
“No. On the contrary, I forbade them to touch anything. Here’s the correspondence.”
She showed messages where she had asked Dima not to touch the walls.
“I see. Citizens, you’ll come with us to the station.”
“For what?” Konstantin flared up. “We didn’t break any laws!”
“Illegal remodeling, endangering residents’ lives, setting up a business office in a residential property without authorization. Shall I go on?”
“She set us up!” Dima shouted. “On purpose!”
“Set up what?” the major asked, surprised. “The crack in the wall? You made that yourselves.”
“Konstantin said it was fine!”
“I’m not a builder!” Konstantin disowned him. “I’m a lawyer!”
“We’ll find out what you are,” the major nodded to his subordinates. “Take them away.”
When they were led out, Liza stayed with the foreman:
“How bad is it?”
“The wall needs to be restored. Urgently. Otherwise the building will split. It’ll run about three million.”
“I see.”
A month later, the divorce hearing took place. Dima sat hunched over, with Antonina fidgeting beside him. Konstantin wasn’t there—fake paperwork had been found on other sites, and a criminal case had been opened.
“Your Honor,” Dima’s lawyer began, “my client asks that the property be split in half.”
“What property?” the judge clarified.
“His spouse’s apartment.”
“The apartment is premarital, inherited. The spouses were married for two months. I see no grounds for division.”
“But business activities were conducted there!”
“Illegally, as I understand from the case file?”
“It’s a misunderstanding…”
“A misunderstanding to the tune of three million,” Liza’s lawyer interjected. “My client demands compensation for the illegal remodeling.”
“What?” Dima jumped up. “She allowed it herself!”
“Where is the proof?”
“Kostik is a witness!”
“Konstantin Pavlov is under investigation; his testimony is inadmissible.”
The judge struck the gavel:
“Court’s decision. Divorce—granted. Property is not subject to division. The respondent is ordered to compensate damages in the amount of three million rubles. The respondent is to be evicted from the plaintiff’s apartment within a week.”
“This is wrong!” Antonina cried. “She used him!”
“The hearing is adjourned.”
That evening Liza sat in her parents’ apartment. Galina hugged her:
“You did well. You held out.”
“It was hard, Mom.”
“I know. But you managed.”
Viktor poured tea:
“What will you do now?”
“I’ll restore the apartment. The way Aunt Vera wanted. I’ll bring the library back.”
“And marriage?” Marina asked cautiously.
“I don’t know. Maybe someday. But definitely not to someone who starts dividing property at the threshold.”
The phone rang. Dima’s number.
“Don’t pick up,” her father advised.
“I will. One last time.”
“Hello.”
“Liza, it’s me. Listen… Can we meet? Talk?”
“About what?”
“Well… maybe we could get back together? Start over?”
“Dima, are you serious?”
“Yes! I realize my mistakes! Kostik set me up, my relatives got in my head… But I love you!”
“You love me? Do you love my apartment, too?”
“What does the apartment have to do with it? Forget it! I need you!”
“Really? Then why was the first thing you did after the wedding to rush to re-register it?”
“Kostik advised it! I was an idiot to listen!”
“Dima, let’s be honest. Did you marry me for the apartment?”
“No! I mean… Well, it played a part… But I really…”
“That’s enough. Goodbye.”
“Wait! Liza! Where will I get three million? I don’t have that kind of money!”
“That’s your problem. You wanted to be a businessman? Then solve business problems.”
Half a year passed. Liza sat in Aunt Vera’s restored library with a ginger tomcat, Barsik, from the shelter purring in her lap. The bookshelves were back in place; the antique volumes were neatly arranged in order. The apartment once again breathed coziness and history.
Her phone lay nearby, but Liza ignored it. In recent months, Dima had called less and less—first asking for an extension, then begging to forgive the debt, and now just silent.
“Purr-purr-purr,” Barsik stretched and gazed at his owner with golden eyes.
“You’re right, kitty,” Liza smiled. “We don’t need anyone else.”
The doorbell rang. A bailiff stood on the threshold with documents:
“Elizaveta Viktorovna? The debt has been paid in full. Here’s the certificate.”
“Thank you. And how is the debtor doing?”
“Badly. The car was seized, his share of his parents’ apartment was attached. His mother sold her place to bail out her son.”
The bailiff left; Liza closed the door and returned to the library. Work lay on the table—she had found a job translating old texts; Aunt Vera’s knowledge had finally come in handy.
At the same time, on the other side of the city, Dima sat in a rented cubbyhole. There was hardly any furniture—just an old bed and a plastic table. A cheap cup of instant noodles and a pack of cigarettes sat on the table.
“Dima, you there?” called the communal-flat neighbor from the hallway. “There’s a call for you!”
He trudged to the shared phone in the entryway:
“Yeah?”
“Hey, little brother!” Vadim’s voice sounded cold. “Mom’s in the hospital. Her blood pressure spiked after selling the apartment.”
“How is she?”
“Bad. The doctors say it’s stress. And guess why? Because of your debts!”
“Vadik, I didn’t mean…”
“Didn’t mean! Who made you do it? Who listened to that swindler Kostik?”
“Where is she? I’ll come.”
“Don’t. She asked not to let you in. Says she’s had enough of your problems.”
Vadim hung up. Dima stood there in the grimy corridor, listening to the beeping tone.
An hour later he met Kostik by the subway. Kostik looked even worse—wrinkled suit, three-day stubble, panic darting in his eyes.
“Dimon, help me out!” Kostik grabbed his sleeve. “I got a suspended sentence, but clients from other jobs want their money! They’re not joking!”
“I’ve got nothing either! Mom sold her apartment to pay for your advice!”
“Listen, maybe we should go to Liza? She got compensation…”
“Are you insane? After what we did to her?”
“What do we have to lose?” Kostik glanced around nervously. “My creditors are on my heels. They promised to break my knees.”
“That’s your problem! Don’t drag me into it anymore!”
Dima turned and walked away. Behind him, Kostik yelled something about friendship and mutual aid, but he didn’t look back.
The next day, Antonina called herself:
“Dimochka? It’s Mom.”
“Mom! How are you? Which hospital?”
“Cardiology. Dimochka, I want to tell you… You’re very dear to me, but I won’t help you anymore.”
“Mom, I understand…”
“No, you don’t. You’ve been spoiled. Your father and I indulged you, let you do everything. And now you think the whole world owes you.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is. Liza was a good girl. But you saw not a wife in her, but a source of profit. Like Kostik taught you.”
“Mom, I loved her…”
“You loved the apartment. Be honest with yourself.”
Dima was silent.
“I sold my apartment and paid your debt,” his mother went on. “Now I live with Vadim in his studio. We take turns sleeping—he works nights, I sleep then.”
“Forgive me…”
“It’s too late. But you still have a chance to become a decent man. Find a job. Any job. Earn honestly. And forget about easy money.”
“Mom…”
“Goodbye, son. Get better on your own.”
Liza placed fresh flowers by Aunt Vera’s photograph on the bookshelf:
“Thank you, Auntie. For the lesson. For teaching me to value what’s real, not chase after ghosts.”
Barsik rubbed against her legs and purred. The sun shone outside; peace and order reigned in the apartment. On the kitchen table lay a contract for a new translation project—interesting and well paid.
Life was beautiful. At last, it belonged only to her.
And Dima got a job as a loader at a warehouse. Every day he hauled boxes for twelve hours, earned pennies, and rented a bunk in a dormitory. Kostik disappeared—rumor had it his creditors finally caught up with him. Karina and her husband stopped answering his calls, and Vadim spoke to him only when necessary.
In the evenings he lay on the narrow bed and thought about how different things might have been if he hadn’t listened to Kostik. If he had simply loved his wife and not her real estate.
But it was too late. Liza had found her happiness—quiet, honest, genuine. And his dreams of easy money had turned into a reality where he was left with nothing.
Justice prevailed, just as wise Aunt Vera had willed—true values always triumph over counterfeit ones.