Svetlana stood at the stove, stirring the sauce for pasta. Viktor, sprawled on the couch in the living room, was flipping through TV channels, tossing his socks here and there like it was a sport. In two years of living together, she’d grown used to his habit of leaving his things all over the apartment — but today it grated on her especially hard.
“Sveta, what are we having for dinner?” he shouted, eyes still glued to the screen.
“Seafood pasta,” she answered, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Again? Maybe we should just order pizza?”
“I don’t have any money until payday, Vitya. You know that.”
“I’m tight too,” he grumbled, switching channels.
Svetlana bit her lip. The month before, she’d seen his bank statement — and it had shown a very decent sum. But she didn’t feel like arguing. She set the table, put out plates, laid down the cutlery. Viktor reluctantly got off the couch and sat down, still scrolling on his phone.
“By the way, my sister Marina is coming tomorrow with her husband. They’ll stay with us a couple of days,” he tossed out casually.
“Viktor, you could’ve at least asked! This is my apartment, by the way!”
“Oh, come on, Sveta. We live together. What does it matter whose apartment it is?”
Svetlana finished her pasta in silence, irritation swelling in her chest. When they’d first met at a mutual friend’s birthday, Viktor had seemed charming and attentive. He bought flowers, took her out to restaurants. Six months later he proposed — sweet, romantic, complete with a ring and champagne. She said yes, and he moved in with her.
The first months were wonderful. Then something changed. Viktor stopped helping around the house, became cagey about money, and — most importantly — never set a wedding date.
“Vitya, we said we’d get married this year. It’s already October.”
“Yes, yes, definitely. It’s just not the right time. Work, you know. We have to wait.”
The next day
Marina and her husband Oleg really did arrive. Svetlana cooked dinner for four, cleaned the apartment, and made up a bed for the guests. Viktor, meanwhile, sat in the living room with his brother-in-law, drinking beer and talking about soccer.
“Sveta, bring us more beer!” Viktor shouted from the other room.
“Get it yourself! Are your arms going to fall off?” she snapped, finally losing patience.
“What kind of tone is that? At least behave properly in front of guests!”
Marina walked into the kitchen and looked Svetlana up and down as if she were judging a product.
“Vitya says you two still haven’t made it official. What are you waiting for?”
“Me?” Svetlana stared, stunned. “Your brother is the one dragging his feet!”
“Well, you know… you have to know how to motivate a man. Vitya said you’ve gotten kind of cold. Too demanding. So now he’s having doubts.”
“What did he say?”
“And honestly, your apartment is nothing special. It could really use a renovation. Vitya deserves better living conditions.”
Svetlana felt heat flood her face. Her apartment — the one she’d bought with her own money, working twelve-hour shifts as a manager at a travel agency — wasn’t good enough for this freeloader?
That evening, after the guests went to bed, Viktor stumbled into their bedroom smelling of stale beer.
“Marina’s right, you know. You’ve gotten kind of… boring. Always dissatisfied.”
“Maybe because I’m the only one paying for everything? Utilities, groceries, household stuff — it’s all on me!”
“You’re exaggerating, as always. I buy things sometimes.”
“Sometimes! Once a month! And you live here every single day!”
“If it’s so hard for you, maybe I should leave,” he said, sitting on the bed, staring at her as if daring her to agree.
“Maybe you should,” Svetlana said quietly.
“Fine! I’ll move out tomorrow! Let’s see how you manage without me!”
But the next morning he didn’t pack a thing. On the contrary, he acted like nothing had happened. Marina and Oleg left after lunch, and the apartment sank back into its usual routine.
A week later
Svetlana found herself thinking more and more that their relationship had hit a wall. Viktor didn’t change — still tossing his things around, still not helping, still hiding his income. And now he’d started staying late at work, coming home after midnight.
On Friday evening she decided to have a serious conversation. She cooked his favorite meal — steak with vegetables — and bought a bottle of wine. Viktor came home in a great mood and even brought a bouquet of chrysanthemums, the first flowers he’d given her in half a year.
“Vitya, we need to talk about the wedding,” she began when they sat down.
“Not this again.”
“We’ve been together two years! You proposed! When are we getting married?”
Viktor put down his fork and looked at her carefully.
“Alright, Sveta. Let’s talk honestly. I’m ready to marry you.”
“Really?” She could hardly believe what she’d heard.
“Yes. But there’s one condition.”
“What condition?”
“The apartment. You need to transfer it to me. Or at least make me a co-owner.”
Svetlana froze with her glass in her hand.
“You’re joking.”
“Not at all. Think about it — I’m the man, the head of the family. And I’m living in my wife’s apartment. It’s humiliating. My friends laugh at me.”
“Your friends? And the fact that I bought this apartment with my own money — that doesn’t matter?”
“Sveta, if we’re a family, what difference does it make whose name the property is in? Or do you not trust me?”
“Viktor, this is my home. I saved for five years for the down payment, paid the mortgage—”
“There you go! You’re greedy! You don’t want to share! And then you wonder why I don’t want to marry you!”
He stood up from the table and slammed the bedroom door on purpose. Svetlana stayed sitting there alone, staring at the untouched dinner. A wave of fury rose in her chest. How dared he demand her apartment?
The ultimatum
The weekend passed in icy silence. Viktor made a show of ignoring her, sleeping on the couch and disappearing to his friends. On Monday morning, as she was getting ready for work, he suddenly spoke:
“I’ve thought it over. I’m giving you until the end of the week. Either you sign the apartment over and we get married — or I’m leaving.”
“Is that an ultimatum?”
“Call it what you want. But think about it: you’re already thirty-two. Who’s going to want you? With me, at least, you’ve got a chance at a normal family.”
Svetlana walked out without another word. All day at work she couldn’t focus. Her coworkers noticed how distracted she was, but she brushed it off — everything’s fine, just tired.
That evening at home Viktor acted like nothing was wrong. He watched TV, ate what she cooked, even tried to hug her before bed. Svetlana pulled away.
“So?” he asked. “Have you thought about it?”
“I have.”
“And how long are you going to think? I have to plan my life too.”
On Wednesday night, Svetlana met her friend Ksenia at a café. She told her everything, expecting support.
“Sveta, are you serious? Under no circumstances should you sign that apartment over! That’s pure blackmail!”
“But he says he’ll leave…”
“Let him! He thinks he found a fool — wants you to hand him an apartment. He’s a kept man, Sveta.”
“Ksyusha, but I’m already over thirty… What if there really won’t be anyone else?”
“Oh, stop it with that thinking! Better alone than with a parasite!”
Svetlana came home with fresh determination. But the second she saw Viktor stretched out on her couch in her apartment, doubt crept in again. Maybe she really was too demanding?
Thursday passed in painful indecision. Viktor swung between tenderness and cruelty, like he was playing her emotions like strings.
“Sveta, I love you. I just want everything to be fair. I want to feel like the man of the house, not a temporary guest.”
“But you already live here like you own the place…”
“It’s not the same. Legally I’m nobody. What if you kick me out?”
“I would never—”
“Then prove it. Show me you trust me.”
Friday — decision day
Svetlana woke up with a heavy head and a sense of doom. Viktor was already up, humming in the shower — clearly convinced she would surrender.
At breakfast he was especially sweet.
“Sveta, I booked an appointment with a notary for three o’clock. We’ll go together, sign everything quickly. And after that, we can go file the paperwork at the registry office.”
“Viktor, I—”
“What? Doubts again? How long is this going to go on? Either you want to be with me or you don’t!”
Something inside Svetlana suddenly clicked. Like a veil fell from her eyes. She looked at him — unshaven, in a wrinkled T-shirt, wearing that smug, entitled grin — and realized she didn’t love him. She hadn’t for a long time. She’d only been afraid of being alone.
“You know what, Viktor?” Her voice rang with tightly held fury. “Go to hell.”
“What?” he choked on his coffee.
“You heard me. Get out of my apartment. Immediately.”
“Sveta, are you out of your mind?”
“You’re the one who’s out of your mind if you thought I’d hand you my apartment! Who do you think you are? A freeloader. A gold-digger. You’ve lived off me for two years and you still have the nerve to demand more!”
“How dare you—”
“Shut up!” Svetlana jumped to her feet, eyes blazing. “Did you think I’d keep swallowing your rudeness? Your laziness? Your lies? No! We’re not married, so stop dreaming — and this apartment is mine. So pack your things and get out!”
Viktor stared at her, confused. He’d never seen this version of Svetlana. Always quiet and accommodating, she now looked like pure fire.
“Sveta, calm down…”
“Don’t you dare call me that. Grab your stuff and leave. You’ve got one hour!”
“You’ll regret this! No one else will want you! You’ll end up a lonely old maid!”
“Good riddance! Better alone than with a worthless man like you!”
She yanked his clothes out of the closet and shoved them into a bag. Viktor tried to stop her, but she pushed him away so hard he nearly fell.
“Don’t touch me. Get out. Now.”
“Where am I supposed to go? I don’t even—”
“To your mommy. To your sister. To those friends who laugh at you. I don’t care. Just make sure you’re gone within the hour!”
She ran into the bathroom and locked the door. Her heart was pounding, her hands shaking — yet inside she felt a strange lightness. Finally. Finally she’d said it.
Forty minutes later the front door slammed. Svetlana stepped out carefully. The apartment was empty. On the table were his keys and a note: “You’ll regret this.”
She crumpled the note and threw it away. No. She wouldn’t. Not ever.
That evening the doorbell rang. Svetlana checked the peephole — Viktor.
“Sveta, open up! Let’s talk!”
“Get lost!”
“I forgot my phone charger!”
“I’ll buy a new one and throw yours out. Now leave!”
“Sveta, don’t be stupid! Where am I going to live?”
“Under a bridge, for all I care! Not my problem!”
He rang and knocked for a long time, then started making threats. Svetlana called the neighbors — the Sokolov brothers from the third floor, big, solid guys.
“Trouble, Sveta?” the older one, Igor, asked.
“Yeah. My ex won’t leave.”
“We’ll handle it,” the younger one, Pavel, said, cracking his knuckles on purpose.
The moment Viktor saw them, he went quiet.
“I… I just wanted to pick up my things…”
“Your stuff is in a bag by the door. Take it — and don’t show up here again,” Svetlana shouted from behind the neighbors.
Viktor grabbed the bag and hurried away.
“If he bothers you again, call right away,” Igor said.
“Thank you, guys. You saved me.”
After
A month passed. Svetlana changed the locks, rearranged the furniture, threw out everything that reminded her of Viktor. The apartment seemed to breathe again — brighter, lighter, more spacious.
At work she was promoted. The energy and decisiveness that appeared after the breakup didn’t go unnoticed. She signed up for Spanish classes, started running in the mornings, began meeting friends more often.
Then Ksenia brought some news.
“Guess what — your Viktor went back to his ex. Alyona.”
“No way.”
“Yep. She took him in, poor idiot. But he started pushing the same thing — demanding an apartment. Only Alyona isn’t you. She’s got brothers who don’t mess around. They explained things to him so clearly that now he’s living with his mom in a village — and he doesn’t show his face in the city anymore.”
Svetlana laughed — genuinely, from the heart. Karma caught up with him faster than she’d expected.
And six months later, at a corporate event, she met the new head of the logistics department — Andrey. Quiet, hardworking, with his own apartment and a car. On their third date he said:
“Svetlana, I don’t want to drag things out. Let’s get married. I’m serious about you.”
And they did. Two months after meeting. No ultimatums. No demands. No humiliation. Just two adults who wanted to be together.
As for Viktor — he’s still living with his mother in the village. People say he tried a couple more times to come back to the city and find a new “sponsor.” But word about his methods spread quickly. Now he herds his mother’s goats and remembers how stupidly he lost both a city life and the woman who once loved him — until she finally saw who he really was.