Anna stood in front of the mirror, and her gaze slowly slid over her own reflection. The snow-white dress, woven, it seemed, from air and light, fit her figure perfectly, and the light veil, like morning mist, gently fell over her shoulders. Every detail—from the finest lace to the neat pearls woven into her hair—was flawless. She had imagined this day countless times, since childhood, from those very moments when, as a little girl, she would throw her grandmother’s curtain over her head like a veil. It seemed that here it was, that very moment, the peak of happiness she had walked toward for so long, the one she had dreamed of so ardently.
But inside, in the very depths of her soul, reigned a strange, anxious emptiness. She tried to convince herself that it was just pre-wedding nerves, a natural worry before such an important step, but the feeling was different—deeper, more aching, more desolate.
She ran her palm over the cool, silky fabric of the dress, adjusted a stubborn lock that had escaped from the perfect hairstyle, and scenes from the past floated before her inner gaze. It had all started a year ago, at a modest corporate party. That was where she met Yegor. Tall, presentable, with a charming smile that seemed capable of melting ice. He worked in a solid company, had excellent manners, and always said exactly the words she wanted to hear.
His courtship was beautiful, almost fairy-tale-like. Bouquets of flowers that seemed even more wonderful because they appeared without any reason, dinners in cozy restaurants where he always ordered her favorite dishes in advance, compliments that brought a blush to her cheeks. Anna was touched; her heart, still not healed from old wounds, began to thaw. After a series of failed relationships that had brought nothing but disappointment, she so wanted to find something stable, reliable, real. Yegor seemed like that very safe shore, the person she could rely on.
After a few months, during a romantic walk through an evening park strewn with golden leaves, he suddenly dropped to one knee and, pulling a velvet box from his pocket, asked that one, only question. Anna, without hesitating for a second, said yes; her heart beat faster from the joy overflowing it. Her parents, who had long worried about her personal life, finally breathed a sigh of relief; her friends were sincerely, or perhaps not so sincerely, envious; life seemed to be getting back on track, everything falling into place.
Preparing for the celebration took several months, filled with fuss and pleasant excitement. Anna plunged headfirst into the organization. She herself, without the help of a wedding planner, chose the banquet hall, tasted dishes, tried on dozens of dresses, sent invitations to the closest people. Yegor supported her in everything, but his support was somehow detached, formal; he usually just nodded, agreed with her choice, and repeated that everything would be wonderful.
And then, three months before the set date, Anna made one of the most important decisions of her life. She sold her old, small apartment on the outskirts of the city. The very one where she had lived for several years after university, saving on everything, putting aside money from each, even the most modest, salary. She remembered how she wore the same clothes, denied herself trips and entertainments, guarded every penny, nurturing one big, bright dream in her heart.
And now that dream had finally come true. She found exactly what she was looking for: a spacious, bright apartment in a new building, with large windows overlooking a wonderful view, with a high-quality renovation already done. The neighborhood was quiet and green, with a well-kept park nearby, a good school—everything one could dream of. She signed all the documents, transferred the money, received the cherished keys. It was her personal victory, the triumph of many years of work and patience.
Her parents beamed with pride for their daughter. Her friends admired her determination. Yegor said she was smart, that now they would have their own home, their own nest, and that he was infinitely happy.
Everything in her life was shaping up just perfectly, like in the best fairy tale.
Only one seemingly insignificant detail, like a splinter, scratched at her soul, disturbing this ideal picture. The name of that detail was — Galina Petrovna.
Yegor’s mother.
Their first meeting took place about two months ago. Yegor brought Anna home to introduce her to his mother. Galina Petrovna lived alone in an old but well-kept three-room apartment in a residential neighborhood. The place was clean, but there was a kind of heavy, oppressive atmosphere: massive dark furniture, curtains that didn’t let in light, many old, yellowed photographs in frames on the walls.
She met Anna without a trace of a smile, ran her from head to toe with a piercing, appraising glance, and only gave a short nod:
“Come in, then. Take off your coat.”
They settled at a large dining table. Galina Petrovna silently poured tea into porcelain cups, set a little dish of cookies on the table, and began a slow but very detailed interrogation. She asked about her job, her parents, her plans for the future, her views on life. Anna tried to answer calmly, politely, choosing her words, wanting to make a good impression.
“I heard you bought yourself an apartment,” Galina Petrovna suddenly said, finishing her second cup. “A two-room place in a new building.”
“Yes,” Anna nodded, trying to keep nothing but respect in her voice. “It’s a very nice place. I was looking for just that kind of option for a long time.”
Galina Petrovna snorted and looked at her with a barely noticeable but no less cutting smirk:
“Well, well, that’s commendable. Only I’ll tell you this, dear. After you have the wedding, all your property will become joint. Family property. So don’t you dare stick your nose in the air and think it’s all yours, personal.”
Anna had kept silent then, swallowing her hurt. She decided it was just an old-fashioned point of view, a relic of the past, and not worth paying attention to. She didn’t want to quarrel or spoil relations on the eve of the wedding. Yegor didn’t stand up for her either; he just quickly steered the conversation to another, more neutral topic.
But now, standing in front of the mirror in her wedding dress and remembering that conversation, Anna understood with a cold clarity—it hadn’t just been the grumbling of an elderly woman. It had been a real warning.
And so that very day had come.
Anna took a deep breath, pushed the heavy thoughts aside, and left the room. The banquet hall was already filled with guests. Beautiful, light music was playing; waiters were setting exquisite dishes on the tables; everything around glowed and shimmered. She had done her best, put her whole soul into the organization, wanting this day to be remembered by everyone for a long time.
Yegor was standing at the entrance, beaming as he greeted arriving guests. Seeing the bride, he quickly walked up to her and gently hugged her by the waist.
“You look incredible today,” he whispered in her ear. “My beautiful wife.”
Anna smiled back, but inside something trembled again, some string sounded painfully and anxiously. She couldn’t understand why. It was just a vague, unpleasant foreboding.
The wedding ceremony passed like in a beautiful dream. Solemn vows, a tender kiss, joyful applause from family and friends. Then the festive banquet began. Guests were having fun, toasting, dancing. Anna sat in her place and tried to smile, responding to endless congratulations and well-wishes.
Galina Petrovna sat on the other side of the table and watched her daughter-in-law closely, without looking away. Her gaze was not evil, but not kind either. Rather cold, calculating—like that of an accountant checking a budget.
Yegor scooted closer to Anna and put his arm around her shoulders. His face was flushed—he had clearly overdone it with the champagne. His eyes were shining, his smile too wide, his movements sweeping and a bit clumsy. He laughed too loudly, slapped his friends on the back, and told jokes to anyone who would listen.
“The best day of my life!” he proclaimed so loudly they heard even at the neighboring tables. “I’m the happiest man in the world! Now everything will be just wonderful for me and Anya!”
Anna merely nodded, but something in his tone, in that excessive, showy enthusiasm, made her wary. He looked less like an enamored groom and more like a man who had just successfully completed a very profitable business deal.
Yegor leaned even closer, so close she could smell the sweet tang of alcohol. He took a sip from his glass and whispered in her ear with a pleased, self-satisfied smile:
“You know, my mom and I came up with something good. We decided your new apartment would be perfect for her. It’s hard for her alone—her age, her health. And we can just rent something simpler. That will be the most right and fair decision.”
Anna froze. It seemed to her that her heart stopped for a moment, then started beating so hard its pounding must have been heard by everyone around. The blood rushed to her face, her cheeks and ears burned. She slowly, as if in slow motion, turned her head and looked directly into her husband’s eyes. He was smiling. Smiling so calmly and naturally, as if he had just told her the sun had come out outside.
“What?” she asked quietly, almost soundlessly, desperately hoping she had misheard him, that it was just a joke—a bad, cruel one.
Yegor winked cheerfully and patted her on the shoulder like a buddy:
“Well, you understood me. Mom already knows everything and is very happy. We’ll get everything arranged sometime later, after the holidays. And now is no time for such talks, now we have to celebrate!”
He stood up and headed toward his noisy group of friends, who were already calling him over to drink some more. Anna was left sitting alone, staring at the pattern on her empty plate. Guests around laughed, glasses clinked, music roared, but to her it all came as muffled, distorted sounds, as if she were at the bottom of a deep well. A deafening, monotonous hum stood in her ears.
The apartment. Her apartment. The very one she had bought herself, with her own honestly earned money. Having sold her old, tiny place where she had lived for so many years, denying herself everything, saving every coin. That very bright two-room apartment in the new building she had chosen and arranged with such love, in which she had dreamed of living with her family and raising children.
And he had just said that they would give it to his mother.
Anna rose from the table. Her legs felt like cotton and wouldn’t obey her, but she forced herself to take a step, then another. She walked past the cheerful guests, past the couples whirling in dance, and stepped out into the quiet, cool corridor. She leaned her forehead against the cool wall, closed her eyes, and tried with all her might to breathe evenly and deeply.
Her friend Olga noticed her absence and followed her out.
“Anya, what’s wrong? Do you feel sick?” she asked anxiously.
“Everything’s fine,” Anna forced out with difficulty. “It’s just a little stuffy. It’ll pass in a minute.”
“Maybe we should go outside, get some fresh air?”
“No, no need. I’ll just stand here for a minute. I’ll come back soon.”
Olga nodded doubtfully and went back into the hall. Anna was alone again. She took her phone out of her tiny purse, turned it on, and stared at the screen. The wallpaper was the most ordinary—her and Yegor’s photo together, taken during one of their walks. They were both laughing, holding each other, and it seemed that the happiness in that photo was real, not fake.
She remembered all those small, seemingly insignificant moments that previously hadn’t come together into a single frightening picture. How Yegor always dodged serious conversations about the future. How he joked or changed the subject when she asked where they would live after the wedding. How his mother constantly, in every conversation, mentioned that in a family everything had to be shared. How he never suggested adding his name to the apartment documents, but at the same time kept repeating that they were now one team, one whole.
And she, naïve thing, had thought he just wasn’t mercenary, that feelings mattered more to him than material things. How cruelly she had been mistaken.
Anna returned to the hall. She sat back in her place. Yegor had already moved over to the table with his friends; he was drinking with them, laughing loudly, telling stories. Galina Petrovna watched Anna from across the hall and smiled barely noticeably. Her smile was satisfied, triumphant, confident.
And at that very moment Anna understood everything. They had planned it all. In advance. Even before the wedding date was set.
The banquet ended late, when many guests were already thoroughly tired. People slowly began to leave, and the newlyweds were left alone in the almost empty hall. Yegor could barely stand on his feet; Anna, mustering her will, helped him out to the car, where a sober friend was waiting behind the wheel.
At home Yegor collapsed onto the bed fully dressed and almost instantly sank into a deep, drunken sleep. Anna stood nearby and looked at him. He snored, sprawled out carelessly, a blissful, serene smile frozen on his face.
Silently she took off her beautiful white dress and carefully hung it in the wardrobe, on the farthest hanger. Then she lay down next to him, but sleep would not come. She lay like that until morning, not closing her eyes once, replaying the previous evening in her head over and over: every phrase, every smile, every glance.
By the time dawn began to break outside the window, she already knew exactly what she had to do.
Yegor woke up closer to noon, his head heavy, his gaze cloudy and unfocused. By then Anna was already fully dressed, put-together, and ready to go out.
“Where are you going?” he mumbled, struggling to push himself up on one elbow and squinting from the sunlight leaking through the curtains. “What business can you have? We just got married yesterday. Let’s just lie here, rest.”
“I can’t,” she answered shortly and firmly. “I have urgent errands. I’ll be back later.”
“What errands?” he asked in surprise, but Anna was already leaving the bedroom without answering.
She headed straight to the nearest public service center. She took a number, waited for her turn, and came up to the free window.
“Hello,” she said to the clerk in a steady, calm voice. “I need to place an official restriction on any registration actions with my apartment. Without my personal presence and my notarized consent, no transactions are to be carried out.”
The woman behind the glass nodded:
“Your passport and title documents, please.”
Anna handed her all the necessary papers. She carefully filled out the application. Signed it. After a while all the required procedures were completed. Now her apartment was under the reliable protection of the law. No one—absolutely no one—would be able to sell it, gift it, exchange it, or otherwise dispose of it without her direct, personally given consent.
Back home, she made several high-quality copies of all the documents. She carefully placed the originals in a thick folder and took them to her parents for safekeeping. She kept one copy for herself and, to be safe, gave another to Olga.
“Did something happen?” her friend asked worriedly, taking the envelope.
“I’ll explain everything later,” Anna replied. “Just please keep this. If anything happens, these papers will prove that the apartment belongs only to me.”
Yegor was still asleep when she returned. Anna went to the kitchen, made herself strong tea, and sat by the window to wait.
He showed up only closer to evening, still pale and unrested.
“My head is splitting,” he groaned, dropping onto a chair. “Do you have anything for a headache?”
Silently, Anna handed him some pills and a glass of water. He swallowed them, took a sip, and looked at her hopefully.
“Listen, do you remember what you said yesterday about my apartment?” she asked calmly, without taking her eyes off him.
Yegor flinched, as if from sudden physical pain:
“Me? I didn’t say anything like that. You must have misunderstood.”
“No, I didn’t. You said we’d give my apartment to your mother and rent a place for ourselves.”
He clearly grew flustered, his gaze began to dart around the room, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose nervously.
“Ah… Well, that was just a joke. Don’t you get jokes? I’d had too much to drink, I was blabbering all sorts of nonsense. You shouldn’t take it seriously.”
“It didn’t sound like a joke at all,” Anna said coldly.
“Anya, be reasonable,” he tried to smile, but it came out forced and unnatural. “You know, when I drink, I can say all kinds of nonsense. Forget about it. Let’s think instead about where we’ll go on our honeymoon. Maybe to the sea? Or to the mountains?”
But Anna had no intention of forgetting.
A few days passed. In secret from her, Yegor called his mother, and they talked for a long time, animatedly. Anna caught only individual words: “apartment,” “transfer,” “documents,” “notary.” After the call he told her:
“Mom wants to meet with us. To discuss some family matters.”
“What matters exactly?” Anna asked, though she already knew the answer.
“Well, different ones. About our future, division of responsibilities, housing issues. Everything like normal serious people. That’s perfectly natural.”
“All right,” Anna agreed. “Let’s meet.”
They set the meeting for Saturday, in a small cozy café in the city center. Anna arrived exactly on time. Yegor and his mother were already waiting for her at a table by the window.
Galina Petrovna looked extremely pleased and confident. Her hair was done in a strict style, her makeup was impeccable, and she wore an elegant suit. On her face played a condescending, almost triumphant smile—the kind a person wears when holding a winning lottery ticket in their hand.
“Come sit, dear Anya,” she said, gesturing toward the empty chair opposite. “Let’s discuss our common affairs like adults, sensible people.”
Anna sat down silently. She placed her bag on her knees, folded her hands on the table, and straightened her back, bracing herself for the conversation.
“I’m listening.”
“You see, dear,” began Galina Petrovna without wasting a second, “since you and Yegor have created a family, all questions must be settled as a family, together. You have a nice, spacious apartment. And I, an old woman, live alone in my old big flat out on the edge of town. It’s hard there for me, and unsafe, my health isn’t what it used to be. So I think the most correct and fair thing would be for you to transfer your apartment into my name. And you and Yegor can rent something simpler, maybe even in the center—it’ll be more convenient for you young people. Less hassle, and you won’t have to pay a mortgage.”
Anna listened without interrupting her. Yegor sat next to her without looking at his wife. He stared into his cup of lukewarm coffee, absent-mindedly stirring it with a spoon.
Inspired by her own speech, Galina Petrovna continued:
“This, by the way, is a perfectly normal practice in good, decent families. The older generation must be surrounded by care and have decent living conditions. And you’re still young, full of strength; you’ve got everything ahead of you, you still have time to earn and save. And then, in the end, when I’m gone, it will all go to you anyway. So it’s just a temporary formality, a technical matter.”
She spoke in a smooth, convincing tone, as if it were not a proposal but an accomplished fact. As if all that was required from Anna was to nod, sign the papers, and be grateful for the honor.
Anna paused for a brief but eloquent moment. Then she slowly raised her eyes and met her mother-in-law’s gaze. Her eyes were steady, firm, and completely calm.
“No,” she said clearly and distinctly, without a shadow of doubt.
Galina Petrovna flinched in surprise:
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not going to transfer my apartment to you. It’s my property. I bought it with my own, personally earned money. I invested my work, my time, my strength, and my dream into it. And it will remain mine forever. Period.”
Galina Petrovna’s face changed instantly, becoming hard and hostile:
“Are you joking with me? We already discussed and decided everything!”
“You discussed and decided everything about me,” Anna replied just as calmly. “Behind my back and without my consent. But I am not a puppet and not a little child. I am an adult, independent person and can make decisions about my life and my property myself.”
“Yegor!” Galina Petrovna whipped around to her son. “Say something to her! Explain to her how it’s done in normal families!”
Yegor finally raised his eyes. His face was pale, tiny beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.
“Anya, let’s be reasonable,” he began quietly and uncertainly. “Mom is right. She really does need our help. We’re a family. We’re supposed to take care of each other and support one another.”
“I got married to create a family, not to hand out my property,” Anna answered coldly, looking him straight in the eye, without a trace of doubt. “And if you see these things as identical, then you and I have fundamentally different ideas about what marriage and family are.”
With a loud scrape, Galina Petrovna pushed back her chair and leapt to her feet, nearly overturning the table.
“Oh, so that’s how it is! So you don’t care about family? You’re selfish! You only think of yourself! Denis, just listen to who you’ve tied your life to!”
“I’m not selfish,” Anna’s voice remained flat and firm. “I’m just not stupid and not blind. You want me to voluntarily give you the apartment I earned myself and be left with nothing. That’s not called mutual help in a family—that’s called plain, cynical robbery.”
“How dare you talk to me like that!” Galina Petrovna grabbed her expensive handbag, her face turning purple with rage. “Yegor, do you hear this?! And you allow your wife to insult your own mother like that?!”
Yegor was silent. He sat hunched over, staring at the table, jaw clenched, unable to raise his eyes to either his mother or his wife.
“That’s it, I’m leaving!” hissed Galina Petrovna. “And you, son, think long and hard about who you’re with now. With this… this heartless egoist who doesn’t care about your family!”
She spun around and, loudly clacking her heels, walked out of the café, slamming the door hard behind her. Several customers at nearby tables turned curiously toward the noise. Anna and Yegor stayed sitting there together.
The silence dragged on. At last, Yegor said quietly, still staring at the table:
“You could have been softer. Shown some understanding. She is my mother, after all. It really is hard for her.”
“And I am your wife,” Anna reminded him. “But judging by everything, that word means nothing to you.”
“Don’t start this now, please.”
“I’m not starting. I’m finishing.”
She stood up from her chair, picked up her bag, and slipped on her coat.
“Anya, wait…”
“No, Yegor. I’m not going to wait. You’ve made it very clear who you really are. You’ve shown that you’re ready to betray me at any moment just to please your mother. You’ve shown that you see in me not a loved one and a partner, but simply a source of living space. A convenient and profitable option.”
“That’s not true! I love you!”
“No. You love my apartment. As for me—you’ve just gotten used to me. And that’s a huge, fundamental difference.”
She turned and walked out of the café without once looking back.
The following week they barely communicated. Yegor called, wrote long messages, begged for a meeting to talk everything over. Anna didn’t answer. She needed time to think it all through, weigh, and analyze. She tried to figure out if there was anything left in their relationship worth saving, anything worth fighting for.
But every time the memory of his drunken words at the wedding surfaced, of his cowardly silence in the café, of that helpless, confused look instead of support and protection, she saw with merciless clarity—there was nothing to fight for. It was already over.
Exactly a week later, she came to his apartment herself. Yegor opened the door, and his face immediately lit up with hope.
“Anya! Finally! I was so worried! Come in, let’s talk, sort everything out!”
“We really do need to have a serious talk, Yegor.”
They went into the living room and sat down on the couch. Anna folded her hands on her knees, straightened her back, and gathered her courage.
“I want us to file for divorce.”
Yegor turned white; his mouth dropped open in shock, but no sound came out. After a few seconds he managed to force out just one word:
“What? But we… we just got married! It’s been no time at all!”
“Exactly. That’s why. It’s better to stop now than to torture each other for years, have children, a mortgage, and tons of mutual grievances and resentments.”
“Anya, you can’t just—”
“I can,” she cut him off. “And I will. You’ve shown very clearly that you see me not as a person, but as property. You and your mother decided to manage my life and my things without even asking my opinion. That’s not a family. That’s not a marriage. That’s a business transaction in which I’ve been assigned the role of a voiceless pawn. And I don’t play those games.”
“I… I didn’t mean… It was all Mom! She insisted! I just… I didn’t know how to say no to her!”
“But you didn’t even try,” Anna said mercilessly. “That’s the whole point. You didn’t take my side. You didn’t protect me when it was necessary. What’s more, you even reproached me for not wanting to ‘make concessions’. Yegor, I don’t want and will not live with a man who is incapable of being the head of his own family, who prefers to remain a dutiful little boy instead of being a support for his wife.”
He lowered his head, covered his face with his hands, and his shoulders shook with silent sobs.
“Forgive me,” he whispered through his fingers. “Forgive me, I was such an idiot. I understand everything now. Give me one more chance, just one. I’ll fix everything, I’ll do whatever you say.”
“It’s too late,” Anna shook her head. “You’ve already shown your true face. And I can’t trust you anymore. And without trust there is no family, no love.”
“But I do love you!” he cried in despair.
“If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have betrayed me on the very first day of our family life.”
She stood up from the couch and walked toward the door. Yegor tried to stop her, grabbing her by the wrist.
“Anya, wait, I’m begging you! We can fix everything! I’ll sort it out with Mom! I’ll tell her the apartment will remain yours forever! I’ll do anything you want!”
“Now it no longer matters,” she said quietly, but very firmly, pulling her hand free. “I’m filing for divorce. The apartment will remain mine, because it’s my premarital property. There’s nothing for us to divide. I really hope you won’t put obstacles in my way or stage public scandals.”
Yegor stayed silent, staring at the floor. Then he almost imperceptibly nodded.
Anna walked out of his apartment. Until the day of the court hearing, they did not see each other again.
The divorce procedure went surprisingly quickly and calmly. They both came to the registry office, submitted the standard application. A month later they received new documents in their hands, confirming that they were no longer husband and wife. There were no mutual claims, no dramatic showdowns, no dividing up gifts. Just two adults who realized they had made a mistake and found the strength to stop in time, so as not to make it worse.
Anna returned to her apartment. To her own, unique one. She came in, closed the door behind her, and, leaning her back against it, slowly let her gaze wander over everything around her: the walls whose colors she had chosen so carefully, the furniture she had hauled home from the stores with such effort, the large windows with their wonderful view of the city.
This was her home. The result of her work, her perseverance, her faith in herself. Her life.
And now no one would ever dare to dispose of it.
Her friend Olga called her a few days later:
“I heard the news. How are you, holding up? Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” Anna replied, and for the first time in a long while, there was peace and serenity in her voice. “Honestly, even better than I expected.”
“And you don’t regret anything?”
“Not for a second. I am endlessly grateful to fate that the truth came out so quickly. Before we had children, joint loans, and other obligations that would have made the break infinitely more painful and complicated.”
“You’re amazing,” Olga said, and her admiration was genuine. “Seriously. I wouldn’t have the courage to do what you did. I’d probably be afraid of ending up alone.”
“You know, I realized one simple thing,” Anna said. “It’s much better to be alone and at peace with yourself than to live with someone who can betray you at any moment. And you know what? This decision has become the most liberating and the most right step in my life. I’m proud that I had the strength to make it.”
She hung up and once again looked around her apartment. It was quiet, calm, and very cozy. There were no greedy outsiders here who thought they had a right to what they did not own. There was no one whose silence hurt more than the cruelest words. There was just her. And there was nothing frightening in that solitude—it was filled with peace and freedom.
A few months later Anna ran into Yegor by chance in a large shopping mall. He was with his mother. When Galina Petrovna saw her former daughter-in-law, she ostentatiously turned away and tugged her son by the sleeve in the opposite direction. Yegor met Anna’s gaze for just a moment, nodded to her, tried to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. They simply walked past each other, like completely strangers.
Anna nodded back and calmly continued on her way. There was no anger, no resentment, no regret in her soul. Just a light sadness and a feeling of a closed chapter. As if she had suddenly met on the street someone she’d gone to school with once, but whose name she could no longer remember.
That evening she sat on her spacious balcony with a large mug of aromatic herbal tea, watching the sun slowly sink below the horizon, painting the sky in soft pastel tones. The city below slowly lit its lights, hummed, lived its full, bustling life, and she sat up here in her fortress, in her safe haven, which she had built for herself with her own hands.
The apartment, of course, remained hers. But the most important thing was that along with these walls, something far more precious returned to her—a sense of self-worth and an unshakable confidence in herself. Confidence that she would never again allow anyone to rule her destiny, her choices, her work, her life.
And that realization was priceless.
Anna smiled quietly, took the last sip of tea, and thought about how many roads still lay ahead of her. Many new opportunities, meetings, discoveries. But now she knew for sure—she would walk those roads only with those who saw a person in her, who respected her, her freedom, and her right to decide her fate. Not with those who saw her merely as a means to achieve their selfish goals.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath of the cool evening air, scented with blooming linden and freshness. Somewhere in the distance came the sounds of music, children’s laughter, the noise of cars passing by. Life, bright, multifaceted, and beautiful, was going on. And she felt more ready for it than ever before—with her apartment, with her principles, with her dignity, and with her hard-won freedom.
And this was not an ending, but the truest, brightest beginning of a new chapter. A chapter in which she was not a pawn in someone else’s game, not a convenient option, not a means, but the full-fledged Mistress—of her fate, her choices, her home and, most importantly, her life.
And she swore to herself that no one would ever again dare to encroach on this sacred right of hers.
Beautiful ending:
And then comes the moment when the silence in the house stops being frightening and becomes soothing, when your own reflection in the mirror smiles back at you with a calm, confident smile in which there isn’t a trace of the old anxiety. The past slowly recedes like the tide, leaving on the sand of the soul not shards of shattered hopes, but a smooth, clean surface, ready for new, bright footprints. Sometimes healing comes not through loud words and stormy reconciliations, but through a quiet, unshakable decision never again to let others rewrite the story of your life.
And when you finally turn the key in your lock, realizing that behind the door lies only the world you built yourself, according to your own designs, your heart fills not with bitter loneliness, but with a sweet, triumphant sense of freedom. And you understand that the most important fortress you have managed to defend is not around you, but within you. And its walls grow stronger with each passing day, and on the highest tower your personal banner flies proudly—the banner of self-respect, inner peace, and wisdom bought at a high, but honest price.
And this world, this calm, this feeling of safety is that very one and only true love that no one will ever be able to take away from you