Tatyana owned a great apartment in a quiet residential neighborhood—two rooms, bright and roomy, with a large enclosed balcony. She’d bought it long before she met Maksim. No mortgage, no debt—she paid outright, thanks to her parents’ help and years of her own savings.
“You’re done early today?” Maksim asked when he came home and found his wife in the living room.
Tatyana looked up from her laptop and smiled.
“Yeah. My last client canceled, so I decided to work on a kitchen design concept. Look.”
She swivelled the laptop toward him. On the screen was a 3D render of their kitchen—new cabinetry, updated furniture, a clean modern look.
“Like it? I’m thinking of ordering these cabinet fronts. That sea-green color will fit perfectly.”
Maksim leaned in, genuinely interested.
“Looks great! Mom will definitely appreciate it. She’s got amazing taste.”
“She does. Valentina Pavlovna always notices things I miss,” Tatyana nodded. “But I’ll be paying for it myself. By the way—are we going to your parents’ for dinner tonight?”
Maksim dropped onto the couch beside her.
“Yep. Mom called three times already, reminding me. She made your favorite pie—mushrooms and potatoes.”
At exactly seven that evening, they rang the doorbell at Maksim’s parents’ place. Maria Sergeyevna, a short woman with a neat haircut, greeted them with open arms.
“Finally! I thought you’d be late again like last time,” she said, kissing her son on the cheek. “Come in! Nikolai just got back from work.”
Maksim’s father, a gray-haired man with a kind face, was unfolding a newspaper in his armchair.
“Well, here comes the youth!” he boomed. “So—how’s life? How’s work?”
They settled around the round kitchen table. Maria Sergeyevna fussed with plates, refusing to let her daughter-in-law help.
“I’ll handle it. You relax. You must be tired after work.”
“Speaking of work—sounds like things are going well,” Nikolai Petrovich said. “I heard you bought new appliances for the apartment?”
Tatyana nodded.
“I did. Replaced the dishwasher and the fridge. The old ones had done their time.”
Maria Sergeyevna set out bowls of salads and sighed.
“Oh, how I wish we had appliances like that. Our refrigerator is twenty years old—hums like a tractor.”
“And our washing machine belongs in a museum,” Nikolai added. “But we can’t fit a new one anyway—there’s no space.”
Maria Sergeyevna sank heavily onto a chair.
“And there’s no elevator! Imagine carrying bags up to the fifth floor. My legs aren’t what they used to be.”
“Yeah, that’s rough,” Tatyana said, sympathetic.
Maria Sergeyevna pressed her lips together.
“And you two have everything—spacious place, brand-new equipment. I always dreamed of a fridge you don’t have to defrost.”
“Mom, here we go again,” Maksim cut in. “Tanya saved for that apartment for years. And then for the appliances and furniture.”
Tatyana gave him a grateful smile. Maksim’s parents complained often, but she usually let it slide. If they truly needed help, she believed, it was Maksim’s responsibility—not hers.
“Yes,” she added. “It took a long time. I worked without weekends, studied, saved.”
“And your husband is pure gold!” Maria Sergeyevna chimed in. “By the way, about the apartment… you’ve been married two years, and you still haven’t registered Maksim there?”
Tatyana froze with her fork in her hand. Maksim tensed.
“Mom, don’t start. It’s none of your business.”
“Why isn’t it my business?” Maria Sergeyevna snapped. “He’s my son! He’s living in someone else’s place with no rights.”
Nikolai Petrovich coughed.
“Maria, leave the kids alone.”
“I will not!” she raised her voice. “Tanechka, you’re a family. How can you split everything into ‘mine’ and ‘yours’?”
Tatyana set her fork down carefully.
“Valentina Pavlovna, I plan to register Maksim. In five years.”
The kitchen went silent. Maria Sergeyevna straightened in her chair.
“What do you mean, in five years? That sounds like you don’t trust him.”
“No—it’s common sense,” Tatyana answered calmly. “A friend of mine is a lawyer. She told me not to rush. A marriage should prove itself over time.”
“And if you get divorced?” Maria Sergeyevna gasped. “You’re already thinking about that?”
“That’s exactly why I’m not rushing,” Tatyana nodded. “If there’s a divorce, registration can become a problem. Better to protect myself.”
Maria Sergeyevna’s face turned red. Nikolai Petrovich reached for his drink.
“Let’s toast to family well-being,” he suggested, trying to ease the tension.
After that conversation, a crack formed in Tatyana’s relationship with her husband’s family. Awkwardness hung in the air like a thin, invisible film.
“Come in—make yourselves at home,” Tatyana invited her in-laws over for Sunday lunch.
Maria Sergeyevna looked around the entryway, her gaze catching on a new wall shelf.
“Bought something again? Nowhere to put your money?” she said, hanging up her coat. “At your age, I was crammed in a communal apartment with two kids.”
Tatyana clenched her teeth. Comments like that had become routine.
“I earned this apartment,” she replied evenly. “And I have the right to spend my money the way I see fit.”
“No one’s arguing,” Nikolai Petrovich stepped in. “Masha just worries that young people today treat money too lightly.”
Maksim came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel.
“Mom, Dad—enough. Let’s just eat without the lectures.”
Lunch was stiff and awkward. Maria Sergeyevna poked at her salad, sighing now and then.
They dropped the topic, but Tatyana couldn’t shake the feeling that her mother-in-law was studying the apartment’s interior a little too carefully.
Two weeks later, Maksim called her in the middle of the day. His voice sounded strange.
“Tanya… can you come home early? We need to talk seriously.”
A chill ran through her. Those words never meant anything good.
“Did something happen? Are your parents okay?”
“We’ll talk at home,” Maksim cut her off and hung up.
All the way home, Tatyana ran through possibilities. Trouble at work? Health issues?
When she opened the door, she stopped dead. In the hallway stood two suitcases and several boxes.
“What is going on?” She dropped her bag onto the small table. “Are you leaving somewhere?”
Maksim walked out of the bedroom with an armful of clothes.
“Not me. Us,” he nodded at the suitcases. “Pasha wrecked Dad’s car. He hit some expensive vehicle—and it was his fault. The debt is five and a half million. My parents are selling their apartment.”
Tatyana stared at him, confused.
“What does that have to do with us?”
“My parents are going to live in your apartment,” Maksim said as if it were obvious. “And we’ll move into a rental. I already found a place near the метро.”
Tatyana grabbed the wall so she wouldn’t sway.
“What are you talking about?” she said, barely recognizing her own voice. “Are you out of your mind?”
Maksim раздраженно tossed clothes into the suitcase.
“Tanya, don’t start. Mom and Dad will be homeless. They need help. And your apartment is perfect—spacious, good appliances. Mom’s dreamed of something like this forever.”
“Oh, of course,” Tatyana let out a sharp, almost hysterical laugh. “How convenient. Your brother crashes a car and suddenly there’s a chance to grab my apartment!”
Maksim straightened abruptly.
“What are you saying? They’re my parents! They’ve taken care of me my whole life, helped me. And now when they need help, you…”
“And now I’m supposed to do what?” Tatyana snapped the suitcase shut. “Hand over the apartment I paid for? Should I give you my car keys too?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Maksim grimaced. “It’s temporary.”
“Temporary for how long?” Tatyana demanded. “Until they save for a new place? Or until I buy one for all of us?”
“You’re acting selfish!” Maksim raised his voice. “People are in trouble!”
“They’re not my family,” Tatyana said, every word clipped and cold. “And their problems are not my problems. Let them deal with it themselves.”
“Not your family?” Maksim went pale. “Then who is? Just you?”
“You were my family,” Tatyana answered quietly. “But right now, I’m not so sure.”
“Did you ever think I want to help my brother too? He’s at rock bottom because of this accident!” Maksim began pacing. “You have an apartment. I don’t. Only you can help!”
A knock at the door cut straight through the argument. Tatyana opened it without even checking the peephole.
On the threshold stood Maria Sergeyevna with an enormous bag slung over her shoulder.
“And here I am!” she announced brightly. “I brought a few things for the first days. The rest Kolya will bring tomorrow with movers.”
Tatyana froze, unable to believe what she was seeing.
“You’ve already decided everything?” she asked quietly, looking at her husband.
Maria Sergeyevna pushed past her into the hallway like she owned the place.
“Of course, sweetheart. Maksim explained it all. We’re so grateful! I’ve already figured out where to put our dresser with the family photos.”
Maksim lowered his eyes, guilty.
“Tanya… I wanted to tell you…”
“No,” Tatyana lifted her hand to stop him. “You’ve already told me plenty.”
She pulled the door wider open.
“Get out. Both of you. Now.”
Maria Sergeyevna dropped the bag.
“What did you just say?”
“I said: out of my home!” Tatyana’s voice shook with fury. “I’m filing for divorce. The only person living in this apartment will be me.”
“How dare you talk to me like that!” Maria Sergeyevna shrieked. “Maksim! Say something!”
But Maksim stood silent, staring at his wife as if he didn’t recognize her.
“Tanya, let’s talk calmly,” he finally forced out.
“There’s nothing to discuss.” Tatyana grabbed her mother-in-law’s bag and set it outside the door. “Tomorrow I’m calling a lawyer. Thank God I never registered you here.”
“You’ll regret this!” Maria Sergeyevna screamed as Tatyana practically shoved them out. “Ungrateful girl!”
When the door slammed shut, Tatyana leaned her back against it and slowly slid down to the floor.
Her phone rang nonstop all night—first Maksim, then her mother-in-law, even Nikolai Petrovich tried calling. Tatyana turned the sound off.
In the morning she called her lawyer friend.
“Svetа? Hi. I need your help with a divorce.”
Three months later, Tatyana sat in her refreshed living room. After the divorce she’d changed everything—new décor, new details, anything that didn’t remind her of Maksim.
“You look incredible,” Svetlana said, pouring wine into glasses. “This divorce clearly did you good.”
Tatyana smiled.
“You know… I never thought I’d say this, but you’re right. It’s like I finally dropped a heavy weight I’d been carrying.”
“And what about his family? Did they find a place?”
“No idea,” Tatyana shrugged. “My life is mine. My home is mine too. And other people’s problems don’t interest me anymore.”