— Svetochka, are you even listening to me? Or is that buzzing machine of yours more important than our family’s problems?
Svetlana calmly wiped the chrome milk frother of the coffee machine with a damp cloth, then emptied the used coffee grounds into the trash. Her back ached after eight hours at the computer. The new residential complex project had drained every bit of strength from her: deadlines were tight, and the client kept sending changes every single day.
“I’m listening very carefully, Nina Ivanovna,” she replied evenly, without turning around. “You’re saying that Dasha borrowed one and a half million to open a nail studio, rented a place downtown, bought expensive furniture, and the business failed. Now the bank is demanding full repayment.”
“Not just demanding it — they’re adding huge penalties every day!” her mother-in-law corrected her, settling herself at the kitchen island as if she owned the place and pushing the fruit bowl aside. “The girl needs urgent help. We’re family. We’re supposed to support each other in difficult times.”
Igor, Svetlana’s husband, sat across from his mother, absorbed in scrolling through news on his phone. Apparently, his own sister’s financial disaster interested him far less than a fresh video review of new car tires.
“Family is wonderful,” Svetlana said, pressing the self-cleaning button on the coffee machine. “But what does that have to do with me? Dasha has a husband. You have a nice dacha in a good area. You could sell it quickly and cover the debt.”
Nina Ivanovna gave a condescending little smile — the kind adults give foolish children who have just said something painfully naive.
“We are not touching the dacha. That place is sacred. Her father planted apple trees there. And Dasha’s husband works in a warehouse. He earns pennies. There’s nothing to take from him. But you are a senior architect. I saw your new bag in the hallway, Sveta. And I know perfectly well what kind of bonus you received for finishing your last project. Igor told me.”
Svetlana shot her husband a short, heavy look. He did not even raise his eyes from the screen. He merely shrugged slightly, as if to say, what’s the big deal? We’re all family here.
“My bonus is set aside for my vacation,” Svetlana said calmly, drying her hands with a paper towel. “I’m flying to Kamchatka in three days. The tour has been paid for, the tickets are non-refundable, and my gear is packed. I’ve been waiting for this trip for two years. And even if I wanted to, I physically cannot get the money back.”
“Then take out a loan in your name!” her mother-in-law snapped, slapping her plump hand against the countertop. “You have an official salary. They’ll approve you in five minutes. Tomorrow we’ll go to the bank, you’ll sign the papers, and you’ll transfer the money to Dasha’s account. You live in our family, Sveta. You’re obligated to share your income.”
Something inside Svetlana tightened into a cold, hard spring. She looked at the crooked door of the wall cabinet. Igor had promised to fix the hinge a month ago, but every evening he had a new excuse: he was tired, he didn’t have the right screwdriver, or “the whole thing needs replacing, it’s not a five-minute job.”
“I don’t owe anyone anything,” Svetlana said, her voice dropping slightly. “Especially not loans for someone else’s business fantasies. Dasha didn’t even make a business plan. She just decided to play boss.”
Igor finally put his phone down on the table.
“Lana, why are you starting this?” he grimaced, looking at his wife with mild reproach. “Mom is right. You earn three times more than I do. Take the loan. We’ll help Dasha. She’ll pay it back later. Probably. Once she gets back on her feet.”
“With what money exactly are you planning to help, Igor?” Svetlana raised an eyebrow. “You can’t even cover your own car loan without my help. I pay for the groceries, utilities, gas, and even the cat food. Your salary is enough only for your lunches at cafés and your streaming subscriptions.”
Nina Ivanovna shot up from her chair. Her face twisted with outrage.
“Listen carefully, my dear. I put up with your arrogance because I thought you would come to your senses and become a normal wife. But since this is how you want to behave… either you go to the bank tomorrow, or my son divorces you! He will not live with such a greedy, selfish woman. I simply won’t allow him to ruin his life.”
Svetlana looked at her mother-in-law. Then she looked at her husband.
Igor guiltily lowered his eyes and began studying the pattern on the laminate floor. He did not say a single word in his wife’s defense. It was easier for him to agree with his domineering mother than to take responsibility for the conflict.
“Divorce me?” Svetlana asked slowly.
“Exactly!” Nina Ivanovna declared triumphantly, sensing weakness. “And you can take your blueprints and go wherever you like. We’ll see who needs you with that difficult character of yours. You’ll be left with nothing!”
Svetlana looked at these people, and suddenly her mind became astonishingly clear. All the exhaustion she had been carrying for months seemed to vanish.
“I’ve heard you,” she said evenly. “I need to think. Until tomorrow.”
She turned and went into the bedroom.
There were no tears. No long, sleepless soul-searching in the dark. Svetlana simply sat on the edge of the bed, took out her phone, and opened the government services app. Igor’s permanent registration had always remained at his mother’s apartment; here, he had only temporary residence. A few confident taps on the screen — and the request to terminate his temporary registration early was submitted.
Then she opened the smart home settings and deleted the entry code for the front door. The old combination — Igor’s date of birth — disappeared from the system forever.
In the morning, Svetlana woke with an unexpected feeling of lightness. Igor was still asleep, turned toward the wall with the blanket pulled up to his chin.
By nine o’clock, Nina Ivanovna appeared in the kitchen. She had deliberately stayed overnight in the guest room to make sure her daughter-in-law went to the bank.
“Well?” her mother-in-law asked briskly, pouring herself water from the filter. “Have you made up your mind? Got your passport ready? Dasha is already waiting for a call.”
Svetlana went into the hallway and rolled out two large, tightly packed suitcases.
Igor, who had just come out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck, blinked in confusion.
“Sveta, what’s going on? Your flight to Kamchatka isn’t until Friday. And why are my things in there? I saw you put in my winter jacket.”
“They’re not for me,” Svetlana said, putting on a light coat and picking up her handbag. “They’re for you, Igor.”
Nina Ivanovna froze with a half-finished glass of water in her hand.
“What kind of circus are you putting on this early in the morning?”
“No circus, Nina Ivanovna. Yesterday you gave me a clear condition: either I take out a loan for your daughter, or Igor divorces me and I leave with nothing.”
“So what? Decided to pack your own things?” the mother-in-law snorted, straightening her shoulders. “About time. Igor will find himself a normal, obedient wife.”
“You’ve misunderstood something,” Svetlana said, adjusting the strap of her handbag. “This spacious two-room apartment is mine. I bought it five years before I met your son. The mortgage was fully paid off with my personal money.”
She looked directly at her husband.
“Last night, I canceled your temporary registration. The front door code has been changed. The car keys — for the car whose loan you pay from my budget — are on the bedside table in the bedroom.”
“Sveta, are you serious?” Igor turned pale, absentmindedly pulling the towel from his neck. “Over some nonsense? We just talked!”
“Financial blackmail is not nonsense, Igor. It’s a diagnosis. You decided I was a convenient resource to be milked on command.”
Svetlana shifted her gaze to her mother-in-law, who was now opening and closing her mouth like a fish, clearly unable to find the right words. All her arrogance had vanished in an instant.
“You didn’t want your son living with an egoist? Your wish has been granted. Take Igor back to your own apartment, where he is permanently registered. At least there’ll be someone there to comfort Dasha when the bailiffs come knocking.”
“You… how dare you!” Nina Ivanovna finally forced out, her voice rising into a shrill pitch. “We’ll file for division of property! You have no right to throw your husband out onto the street!”
“Go ahead,” Svetlana smiled with only her lips. “We’ll divide the TV we bought during the marriage. I’ll take the remote, you can have the screen. I’ll file for divorce online tonight.”
She opened the front door and glanced at her watch.
“You have exactly ten minutes to leave my property. Otherwise, I’m calling building security.”
Three weeks later, Svetlana returned from vacation.
Kamchatka had greeted her with harsh beauty: black sand beaches, volcanoes, and an icy ocean that washed the last traces of tension from her mind.
She entered the new code on the electronic lock. The door clicked softly, letting its owner inside.
The apartment smelled fresh.
No socks scattered in the hallway. No empty mugs beside the computer. No one muttering in her ear that dinner wasn’t varied enough.
Her phone occasionally vibrated in her pocket with messages from Igor.
“Sveta, Mom went too far. Let’s talk.”
Then another one arrived:
“Sveta, I’m cramped in one room with Dasha and her kids. Mom finally put the dacha up for sale to save Dasha from court, and now she has hysterics every day. I’m losing my mind here.”
Svetlana did not reply. She simply swiped the notifications into the archive.
She walked into the kitchen, took an ordinary Phillips screwdriver from the drawer, went to the same crooked wall cabinet door, and tightened the loose hinge in less than a minute. The door closed perfectly straight with a quiet, satisfying click.
That crooked cabinet front used to irritate her every morning.
As it turned out, to fix the door, all she had to do was remove the people who had been loosening it.
Svetlana switched on the coffee machine, poured herself a cup, and went to the window. Ahead of her was a major new project, a bonus she would not have to share with anyone, and a calm, steady life.
She took a sip and smirked.
It seemed Kamchatka had frozen the last of her conscience solid.
And honestly?
She liked it one hell of a lot.