The Apartment Question
Alesya stood in the hallway, certain she’d misheard. Her mother-in-law, Svetlana Sergeyevna, had just declared that Grandma Zoya’s apartment wouldn’t go to Alesya at all—it would go to Lena, the younger son’s wife.
“Svetlana Sergeyevna… but you promised,” Alesya’s voice trembled with hurt. “You said it yourself: if I took care of Grandma Zoya until the end, the apartment would belong to me and Misha.”
Her mother-in-law tightened her lips and looked away. Not even a flicker of shame—only icy resolve.
“Circumstances have changed, Alesya,” she said sharply. “The apartment will go to Lena and Borya. They’ve had their second child—they need it more. You and Misha will get by somehow.”
“Get by?” Heat rushed to Alesya’s face. “I spent two years beside your mother! Two years of bedpans, injections, and pureed soups…”
“So what?” Svetlana Sergeyevna shrugged. “Lena would’ve cared for her too if I’d asked. But she had small children. You, on the other hand—you’re childless. You had plenty of time. How hard was it to cook soup for an old woman?”
Childless sliced through Alesya like a knife. Svetlana Sergeyevna knew perfectly well that Alesya and Misha had been trying for three years with no success—and she aimed straight for the wound.
“So I wasted two years of my life?” Alesya fought back tears. “And what about your promises?”
“My dear,” the older woman stepped closer, and the fake tenderness in her tone made it even nastier, “I never promised anything in writing. And spoken words… people say all kinds of things. You’re a grown woman—you should understand.”
At that moment the front door opened, and Lena walked in—Borya’s wife, Svetlana Sergeyevna’s younger daughter-in-law. A dyed blonde in an expensive fur coat, she swept Alesya with a disdainful look.
“So, Mom, can we start moving our stuff in?” she chirped. “Borya’s downstairs with the movers.”
“Wait, Lenochka,” Svetlana Sergeyevna glanced at Alesya. “Your sister-in-law is making a scene.”
“Oh, her?” Lena snorted. “Mom, why even bother with her? Let her go cry to her Misha. Though what’s the point—he’s a mama’s boy. He won’t say a word against you.”
“Don’t you talk about my husband like that!” Alesya snapped.
“And is it not true?” Lena smiled smugly. “Everyone knows Misha can’t take a step without Mommy. Borya’s different. A real man—he makes his own decisions.”
“Lena’s right,” Svetlana Sergeyevna added. “Borya is my pride—opened his own business, had two kids. And Misha? Thirty-five and still on a salary. Can’t even give his wife a baby.”
“Svetlana Sergeyevna!” Alesya choked on outrage. “How can you say that?”
“What? I’m telling the truth,” her mother-in-law shrugged. “If you had children, maybe I’d think twice. But you don’t—so what’s the point of giving you the apartment? There’ll be no one to inherit it anyway.”
“Exactly!” Lena jumped in. “We have little Masha and Sasha—they need space. You and Misha can squeeze into your one-bedroom. It’s just the two of you.”
Alesya inhaled slowly, forcing herself to steady her breathing. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a neatly folded set of documents.
“Svetlana Sergeyevna, Lena,” she said, surprisingly calm, “I’m afraid you’ll have to adjust your plans. Here. Read this.”
“What is that?” the older woman asked, taking the papers reluctantly.
“Grandma Zoya’s will,” Alesya replied. “She left the apartment to me. To me personally—not even to Misha. To me.”
Svetlana Sergeyevna went pale as her eyes ran over the lines. Lena leaned in to read and then screeched:
“That can’t be! It’s a fake!”
“It’s notarized,” Alesya said evenly. “Grandma Zoya signed it a month before she died. She understood everything. She saw what was happening. And she decided to protect me—from you.”
“You snake!” Lena lunged at her. “You fooled the old woman! You wormed your way into her trust!”
“No,” Alesya stepped back. “I cared for her. And she valued that—unlike certain people.”
“How dare you!” Lena howled. “Mom, tell her!”
Svetlana Sergeyevna said nothing, rereading the will again and again. Finally she looked up at Alesya.
“You… you set this up,” she hissed. “You knew Mother had written this, and you kept quiet!”
“And what was I supposed to do?” Alesya lifted a shoulder. “Warn you so you could pressure a sick woman? Force her to rewrite it?”
“I’ll show you—” Lena raised her hand, but Svetlana Sergeyevna grabbed her wrist.
“Calm down, Lenochka. We won’t let it go. We’ll contest the will. We’ll prove Mother wasn’t competent.”
“Go ahead,” Alesya nodded. “I have medical certificates from three doctors confirming Grandma Zoya was of sound mind. And I have witnesses—neighbors, and a clinic nurse.”
“You filthy liar!” Lena tore free. “You’ll be ruined! Borya will sue you—he has connections!”
“Borya will have serious trouble with his business if he tries,” Alesya replied calmly. “I work for the tax office, remember? And I know a few things about his little operations.”
“You… you’re blackmailing us?” Svetlana Sergeyevna clutched her chest.
“No. I just want you to leave me alone. The apartment is mine by law. End of story.”
“Does Misha know?” her mother-in-law narrowed her eyes.
“He will when he comes home from work.”
“He’ll never forgive you!” Lena crowed. “Misha worships his mother—he’ll leave you!”
“That’s between me and him,” Alesya said, heading toward the door.
“Stop!” Svetlana Sergeyevna blocked her. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” Alesya said. “To my apartment.”
“We’ll see whose it is!” Lena shrieked. “Mom, don’t let her go!”
“Try to stop me,” steel entered Alesya’s voice. “I’ll call the police—for unlawful detention. And for threats while I’m at it.”
Reluctantly, Svetlana Sergeyevna stepped aside. Alesya walked out into the stairwell, then turned back.
“And one more thing, Svetlana Sergeyevna. When you call Misha to complain, don’t forget to mention how you called him a failure—and how you laughed that we don’t have kids. I’m sure he’ll be fascinated.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” her mother-in-law went white.
“We’ll see,” Alesya said, and went downstairs.
Two floors below, outside Grandma Zoya’s door—now her door—Borya stood with two movers.
“Well, well,” he smirked. “Open up. I don’t have time for this.”
“It’s my apartment, Borya. By will,” Alesya said. “Ask your wife—she’s upstairs with your mother.”
“What?” Borya’s face sagged. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m telling the truth. Take your movers away before you embarrass yourself.”
“I’ll—” Borya stepped toward her, but Alesya was already dialing her phone.
“Police? Hello. Someone just attacked me…”
“Fine, fine!” Borya backed off. “But this isn’t over! We won’t leave you and Misha alone!”
“Go ahead,” Alesya shrugged and unlocked the door with her key.
The apartment greeted her with silence and the lingering smell of medicine that still hadn’t fully faded. She walked to the room and sat on the sofa where Grandma Zoya had been lying only a month ago.
Don’t let them grind you down, girl, Grandma’s last words echoed in her mind. Sveta is cruel, Lena is greedy. But you’re good. You earned this place. The papers are in the nightstand—remember.
Her phone rang. Misha.
“Alesya, what’s going on? Mom is calling, crying—she says you insulted her…”
“Misha,” Alesya cut him off. “Come to Grandma Zoya’s apartment. We need to talk.”
“But Mom said—”
“Misha. Come. And finally decide—are you with me, or with your mother?”
She ended the call. What would happen next, she didn’t know. But one thing she knew for sure: she would never again let her mother-in-law wipe her feet on her. Enough.
A pounding started at the door. Lena’s shrill voice screeched:
“Open up, you filthy witch! That’s our apartment!”
Alesya walked to the door and called back, steady and cold:
“Lena, every word you’ve said is recorded. The insults, the threats—everything. One more scream and I’m taking it to the police. Threats and slander.”
Silence fell on the other side. Then footsteps retreated, and Svetlana Sergeyevna’s voice muttered, “Leave it, Lenochka… we’ll deal with it later…”
Alesya returned to the sofa. In her purse lay a voice recorder—switched off. She hadn’t recorded a thing. But the bluff had worked.
An hour later Misha arrived—pale, shaken. He sat across from his wife.
“Alesya… Mom says you took Grandma’s apartment.”
“I didn’t take it,” Alesya replied. “I received it by will.” She handed him the papers. “Read.”
Misha skimmed the text, then looked up.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d run straight to your mother,” Alesya said. “And she’d start pressuring you, demanding you refuse it. Wouldn’t she?”
Misha stayed silent. Alesya continued:
“Your mother promised us this apartment for two years. Then she decided to give it to Lena and Borya—because they have children and we don’t. And do you know how she explained it? She said you’re a loser who can’t even give his wife a child.”
“My mother didn’t say that!” Misha flared.
“She did,” Alesya replied. “In front of Lena. Ask her—she’ll happily confirm.”
Misha dropped his gaze. Alesya sat beside him and took his hand.
“Mish, I love you. But I can’t keep swallowing humiliation from your mother. She doesn’t treat us like people. Only Borya and Lena matter to her—those are her ‘real’ children.”
“What do you want from me?” he asked hoarsely.
“I want you to choose,” Alesya said. “Either we live separately—like our own family—or… I leave. Here, in this apartment. Alone.”
“You’re giving me an ultimatum?”
“Call it what you want,” she said quietly. “But I’m done living under your mother’s heel. I’m done being called ‘childless.’ Done with Lena laughing in my face.”
Misha was quiet for a long time. Then he lifted his head.
“And what if Mom gets offended? Stops talking to me?”
“Mish,” Alesya said gently, “you’re thirty-five. Isn’t it time to stop being scared of Mommy getting offended?”
He flinched as if struck. He stood, paced the room, and stopped by the window.
“You know what she said when I left?” he muttered. “That you bewitched me. That a normal wife would never go against her mother-in-law.”
“And a normal mother-in-law wouldn’t steal what she promised,” Alesya shot back.
Misha turned to her.
“Okay,” he said at last. “Let’s try it. We’ll live separately.”
“Seriously?” Alesya could hardly believe her ears.
“Yes,” he nodded. “I’m tired too. Tired of her barging into our lives. Tired of her comparing me to Borya. Tired of Lena’s smug remarks.”
Alesya threw her arms around him. He held her close.
“Only… can we do a renovation?” he added quietly. “It still smells like Grandma in here.”
“Of course!” Alesya laughed through tears. “We’ll redo everything. This is our home now.”
A cautious knock sounded at the door—almost timid.
“Who is it?” Misha called.
“It’s me, son. Open up.”
Misha looked at Alesya. She nodded. He opened the door.
Svetlana Sergeyevna stood on the threshold—alone, without Lena. Her eyes were red; she’d clearly been crying.
“Misha, my boy… you can’t do this. You’re abandoning your own mother.”
“Mom, I’m not abandoning anyone,” Misha answered, exhausted. “We’ll just live separately. Like normal families do.”
“That’s her doing!” Svetlana Sergeyevna jabbed a finger at Alesya. “She turned you against me!”
“Mom, stop,” Misha said firmly. “The apartment is Alesya’s by law. And we’re going to live here.”
“And what about Lena and Borya? They have nowhere to go…”
“They have a three-bedroom place, Mom,” Misha replied. “There’s plenty of room.”
“But I promised—”
“You promised me for two years,” Alesya cut in. “Svetlana Sergeyevna, let’s do it this way: we won’t dig up the past. Everyone keeps what’s theirs.”
“Why you—” the mother-in-law began, but she stopped under her son’s stare. “Misha… you’ll let her talk to me like that?”
“Mom, go home,” Misha said, gently but insistently guiding her backward. “Cool off. We’ll talk later.”
“My boy! Misha! You’ll regret this! She’ll show you her true face!”
The door closed. Misha leaned his back against it and let out a long breath.
“Wow,” he said quietly. “First time in my life I talked back to my mom.”
“And how does it feel?” Alesya smiled.
“Strange,” he admitted. “But… good. Like a mountain fell off my shoulders.”
They hugged in the middle of the hallway. Alesya knew there would still be fights ahead—tears, scandals, attempts to claw everything back. But the most important thing had happened: Misha chose her. Chose their family.
And the apartment… well. Thank you, Grandma Zoya. She turned out to be wiser than all of them.