The doorbell rang at the exact moment Yulia was least expecting visitors. She opened the door and found herself staring at the man who, two years earlier, had turned her apartment into an empty shell by taking everything, right down to the last stool. Husband. Ex-husband. Cheater. Coward. Plenty of words suited that familiar face. Beside him stood a woman whose money had once solved every family problem, but whose patience—and perhaps her finances—had apparently run out. “So, you’ve decided to come back?” Yulia remained planted in the doorway. “After clearing out the entire apartment? After the mistress? After the betrayal? That’s quite a plot twist.” “Yulechka, sweetheart,” Viktor’s mother said, forcing something that resembled a smile.
“Let’s talk like adults. Aren’t you going to let us in?” “Do I look like a child to you?” Yulia stepped aside and allowed them into the hallway. “Come in. Take a look at what an apartment looks like after someone removes everything from it, including his conscience.” Viktor walked into the living room and looked around. New furniture. New blinds. Everything was new. Without another word, Yulia went back to the stove, where dinner was cooking—for one. “Don’t you have anything to offer us?” Raisa Pavlovna asked as she lowered herself onto the sofa. “We’re not strangers.” “You are,” Yulia replied calmly, stirring the food in the frying pan. “You became strangers the moment your son loaded my entire life into a truck while I was visiting my parents.” “That was compensation!” Viktor cut in. “I worked my hands to the bone in this place for six years! I repaired things, assembled furniture, carried heavy boxes!” “Oh, you worked your hands to the bone?” Yulia laughed.
“You assembled two shelving units in six years. Two. And one of them was crooked. Shall we calculate your hourly rate?” Raisa Pavlovna pursed her lips. Viktor’s face turned red, but he held himself back. He had clearly been given strict instructions not to lose his temper. “Yulia, let’s not do this,” he said through clenched teeth. “I came here to have a serious conversation.” “Serious?” She placed a single plate on the table. “The serious conversation should have happened two years ago, when I came home to an empty apartment and thought we had been robbed. Then you called and told me you were filing for divorce. Over the phone. As casually as ordering a pizza.” Yulia deliberately served herself dinner and sat down. One plate. One fork. One knife. Raisa Pavlovna watched her with growing indignation. “What do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked. “We’re sitting here, and she’s stuffing her face!”
“I’m in my own home.” Yulia calmly sliced a piece of meat. “In the apartment my parents bought. The apartment your son never had any claim to. The apartment he stripped clean like a common thief.” “Watch your mouth!” Raisa Pavlovna exploded. “That is my son!” “Exactly. Yours. Take him back.” Viktor jumped to his feet, sat down again, then rose once more. Yulia continued eating without paying him any attention. “Yul, enough, all right?” he said, trying to soften his voice. “I made a mistake. It happens.” “It happens?” She dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Let me explain the kind of men it happens to. Men who spend six years staring at their phones and eventually find an Alina inside them. Or was it Karina? I can’t remember. There were several.” “You don’t know anything!” he shouted, finally raising his voice. “I know everything, Vitya. Absolutely everything.” Yulia pushed away her empty plate, stood up, and slowly carried the dishes to the sink. Raisa Pavlovna and Viktor followed her every movement. “All right,” Yulia said when she returned and sat opposite them. “Let me tell you your own story.
You left me for Alina. She was married. Did you know that?” “She said she was getting divorced!” “She told you exactly what you wanted to hear. She was never planning to leave her husband. You were entertainment, Vitya. A little adventure. And once you started becoming a nuisance, she began avoiding you. Blocking your numbers. Changing her routine.” “You…” “Wondering how I know?” Yulia leaned forward. “Her husband, Igor Sergeyevich, is a very talkative man, especially when he is angry. He found me himself. He told me everything in great detail. How you kept calling his wife. How you waited outside her building. How he eventually found you and what he promised to do.” Viktor swallowed hard. Raisa Pavlovna stopped looking offended. “You ran away,” Yulia continued. “Like a rat abandoning a sinking ship. Except the ship wasn’t sinking. You were. So you ran back to Mommy. But Mommy”—she turned toward Raisa Pavlovna—“is living with Gennady Ivanovich now, and her precious little boy doesn’t fit into her plans anymore.” “You!” The older woman almost choked with rage.
“Who do you think you are, you insolent little brat? I’ll—” “You’ll what?” Yulia smiled. “Throw me out of my own apartment? Carry away my furniture? Oh, wait. You’ve already done that.” Viktor said nothing. His mother fell silent as well, breathing heavily. “And now,” Yulia said, leaning back in her chair, “you have come to me. To the woman you robbed, humiliated, and abandoned. You came to ask me to take this disgrace back because no one else wants him.” “Yulia, I can explain…” “There’s no need. I understand perfectly. Alina rejected you. Igor Sergeyevich scared you. Your mother won’t let you stay because she has a new man in her bed. And then there’s me—the fool with the apartment. Surely I should take you in because I once loved you, right?” “What’s so unreasonable about that?” Raisa Pavlovna said, regaining her composure. “He was your husband. You spent six years together.” “I spent six years with a man who spoke to me once a week. A man who believed ‘I’m busy’ was an acceptable answer to every question. During the final year, he slept on the sofa because he claimed it was more comfortable.” “I was tired!” “You were tired?” Yulia laughed. “Tired from what, Vitya? Your phone? Video games? Messaging Alina at three in the morning?
I saw it. I saw everything. I kept thinking it might pass. But it didn’t. It drove away in a truck along with the refrigerator.” Yulia picked up her phone and deliberately dialed a number. “What are you doing?” Raisa Pavlovna asked suspiciously. “Calling Gennady Ivanovich. I think he might be interested to know why you’re here and why your son is looking for somewhere to sleep. Perhaps the two men can work something out.” “Don’t you dare!” Raisa Pavlovna leaped to her feet. “Put the phone down!” “Or what?” Yulia raised the phone to her ear. “Gennady Ivanovich? Yes, this is Yulia. Do you remember me? We met at Raisa Pavlovna’s anniversary party, before the divorce.” “Yulia, stop it!” Viktor lunged toward her. “So, Gennady Ivanovich, here’s the situation…” Raisa Pavlovna’s face turned white. Viktor froze halfway across the room. Yulia lowered the phone and turned the screen toward them. It was blank.
There had been no call. “I didn’t call anyone,” she said quietly. “I only wanted to see your faces. And do you know what? They told me everything. You’re both afraid. She’s afraid of losing her new lover, and you’re afraid of ending up on the street. You didn’t come here because you regret anything. You came because I’m your last option.” Raisa Pavlovna grabbed her handbag. “I refuse to listen to this! Viktor, we’re leaving!” “You can go,” Yulia said with a nod. “But Viktor is staying.” “What?” “He’s staying. Not because I forgive him. I need the bathroom renovated. And the hallway. The tiles are cracked, and the wallpaper is peeling. You said you spent six years working yourself to exhaustion here, Vitya. So work for one more month. Properly this time. With visible results.” “Are you mocking me?” Viktor hissed. “No. I’m offering you a fair arrangement. You live here for one month. You complete the renovations to an acceptable standard. After that, you find somewhere else to live. That is all I am prepared to offer.” Raisa Pavlovna looked at her son. He remained silent, his face twitching.
“And there will be conditions,” Yulia continued. “You only sleep here. No visitors. You do not use the kitchen—you can eat wherever you like. You may use the shower and toilet. Nothing else.” “This is humiliating!” “These are consequences, Vitya. Two years ago, you humiliated me. You left me in an empty apartment without a word or an explanation. You don’t have to agree. The choice is yours.” Raisa Pavlovna stormed out and slammed the door behind her. Viktor remained standing in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with his hands. “So?” Yulia looked up at him.
“Do you agree?” “And if I don’t?” “The door is in the same place it has always been. You can catch up with Mommy and explain to Gennady Ivanovich that the three of you are one big happy family now.” He ground his teeth. Yulia could see the struggle taking place inside him. Pride against fear. Fear won. “I agree,” he forced out. “Excellent. Tomorrow, you’ll buy the materials. With your own money. I’ll make a list.” “With my own money? I don’t have—” “You’ll find it. You found money for gifts for Alina, didn’t you? For restaurants? For taxis in the middle of the night? You sold my furniture. You’ll find money for tiles.”
He said nothing and turned away. Yulia rose and walked to the window. “One more thing, Vitya. One month means one month. Not two. Not three. Exactly thirty days. I will inspect your work every day. If I see anything careless, you’ll be out before the deadline.” “You’ve become cruel.” “I’ve become realistic. They’re not the same thing, although I wouldn’t expect you to understand the difference. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a hired worker whose payment is a sofa in the walk-through room.” A week later, the bathroom was almost finished. Viktor worked in silence, rarely lifting his eyes. Yulia came home from work, inspected his progress, and either nodded or shook her head. One evening, he finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Yul,” he began cautiously, “maybe we could…” “No.” “You didn’t even let me finish!” “I don’t need to. I know exactly what you were going to say. ‘Maybe we could try again.’ ‘Maybe I’ve changed.’ ‘Maybe we should give us another chance.’ No, Vitya. There is no second chance. There is a renovation. Finish it.”
He clenched his jaw. “Do you hate me?” “No.” Yulia shrugged. “Hate takes too much energy. You’re simply someone who used to be part of my life. Now you’re someone renovating my apartment. In three weeks, you’ll be someone I never see again.” “And that’s all?” “That’s all.” The month came to an end. The renovation was finished—not perfectly, but well enough. Viktor packed his belongings into a single travel bag. “Where am I supposed to go now?” he asked as he stood by the door. “Not my problem,” Yulia replied. “But I can give you some advice. Free of charge, for old times’ sake.”
“What advice?” “Stop looking for women who own apartments. Start looking for yourself. Maybe then something in your life will finally work out.” He gave a bitter, crooked smile. “You’ve become smart.” “I was always smart. I only pretended to be foolish because it made you comfortable. I won’t do that anymore.” The door closed behind him. Yulia stood in the silence for a moment. Then she took out her phone and dialed a number. “Mom? Yes, everything is fine. He’s gone. No, he won’t come back. I’m sure.” She smiled and walked toward the renovated bathroom. Everything there was new. Just like she was.