“Since your wife already owns an apartment, we’ll register the new one in your sister’s name right away,” Valentina Pavlovna declared confidently, reaching for a napkin as though she had just settled an ordinary discussion about buying a refrigerator.
For several seconds, silence hung over the table.
Outside the open window, the August courtyard buzzed with life. Someone on the playground kept kicking a ball across the asphalt, a car horn sounded briefly from the parking lot, and the smell of grilled meat drifted over from a neighboring building. The room felt stuffy even though Yaroslava had kept the windows wide open since morning.
She looked first at her mother-in-law, then at Demid.
Her husband sat with one hand resting beside his plate, clearly trying to decide whether his mother was joking or speaking seriously. But Valentina Pavlovna looked so calm that there could be no doubt. She genuinely believed the matter had already been settled.
“In Irina’s name?” Yaroslava asked.
“Of course, in Irina’s. What is so strange about that?” Her mother-in-law raised her eyebrows slightly. “You already have an apartment. You live in it. Meanwhile, that poor girl has to move from one rented place to another.”
Irina was thirty-two years old. She had not been a girl for a very long time, but in Valentina Pavlovna’s family, her daughter’s age was determined not by numbers but by circumstances. Whenever Irina wanted a new car, she became a young woman who needed to feel confident on the road. Whenever rent had to be paid, she instantly transformed into a helpless girl with no one to support her.
Yaroslava did not answer immediately. She leaned back in her chair and slowly ran a finger along the edge of the notebook lying on the windowsill.
She and Demid had been keeping that notebook for almost four years. It contained records of every major expense, every transfer to their savings account, the cost of the property appraisal, insurance, and the future move.
That evening, they had planned to tell Valentina Pavlovna that they had finally chosen an apartment. The building was still being finished, but they had found the right floor and layout. In a week, the couple were expected at the bank for final mortgage approval.
Yaroslava had assumed her mother-in-law would start asking questions. Perhaps she would recommend a neighborhood closer to her own home or complain that the kitchen was too small. But even Yaroslava had not expected her to suggest registering the apartment in Irina’s name.
Several years earlier, Yaroslava had experienced a similar conversation with someone else. At the time, an acquaintance had wondered why a young woman would buy an apartment of her own when she would eventually get married anyway.
Yaroslava had not bothered to explain that “eventually” was not an address where a person could live.
She had bought her one-bedroom apartment before she ever met Demid. It had taken her a long time to reach that goal, and she had done it without dramatic announcements. She worked as a food-production technologist at a small factory, took extra shifts, saved money, avoided unnecessary purchases, and carefully examined every page of the contract.
The apartment was small, located on the fourth floor of a brick building. The main room was long and narrow, the kitchen was cramped, and the washing machine barely fit in the bathroom. But Yaroslava knew exactly who owned every square meter.
She had chosen the tiles herself, ordered the hallway wardrobe, and replaced the old front door. When the lock cylinder began sticking, she bought a new one and installed it with the help of a neighbor in a single evening.
She met Demid almost three years after buying the apartment.
They were introduced at a mutual friend’s birthday party. Demid worked as a supervisor at a company that manufactured equipment for municipal services. He did not try to impress her, boast about grand ambitions, or pretend to be a man who already knew everything. That was precisely what attracted Yaroslava to him.
A year later, they were married.
Demid did not own a home. Before the wedding, he had rented a room with a friend, so the question of where they would live after registering their marriage was easily resolved. He moved into Yaroslava’s apartment.
She never called the apartment theirs or demanded gratitude from him for being allowed to live there. Demid, in turn, never acted as though marriage had given him rights to her property. He contributed to household expenses, repaired appliances, fixed up the balcony, and never said, “Everything here belongs to me now.”
For the first two years, the one-bedroom apartment was enough for them. They both came home late, had dinner, talked about work, and made plans for the weekend. Gradually, however, it became obvious that there was not enough space for the family they hoped to have.
Whenever relatives stayed over, the folding chair had to be moved into the kitchen. Demid kept his work documents in boxes on the top shelf, while Yaroslava put her laptop away in the wardrobe because there was no room for a separate desk. Every substantial purchase led to the same question: where would they put it?
One August evening about three years earlier, they had been sitting on the balcony. Cars rumbled below, dry heat radiated from the sun-baked walls, and a printed advertisement for a three-bedroom apartment lay on the tiny table between them.
“It’s too early for us to look at places like this,” Demid had said. “Wanting one isn’t enough.”
“That’s exactly why we need to start now.”
“Start with what?”
“A plan.”
That evening, they opened their first joint savings account. They agreed to transfer money into it every month and never withdraw anything without making the decision together. Unexpected expenses would be discussed separately. The apartment would be purchased as joint property using their savings for the down payment and a mortgage for the remaining amount.
Yaroslava had no intention of selling her one-bedroom apartment. They considered it a safety net and a future source of support. Perhaps they would rent it out one day. Perhaps it would eventually be useful for their child. But the larger apartment would be paid for by both spouses.
The first few months were easy. Then the car needed repairs. Later, Demid had to replace some equipment he used for work. Yaroslava’s refrigerator broke down. Each time, they sat together, opened the notebook, and decided what could be paid from their current income without touching their savings.
Little by little, the down payment grew.
They did not turn their lives into endless deprivation. They still went out of town occasionally, visited the cinema, and bought the things they genuinely needed. They simply stopped spending money thoughtlessly. Before making a large purchase, Demid asked himself whether it was truly necessary. Yaroslava stopped stocking up on food when half of it would eventually remain unused.
After several years, enough money had accumulated in the joint account for them to begin seriously searching for an apartment.
They considered several neighborhoods, attended viewings after work, studied the courtyards, transport links, and distances to the nearest schools. One building was too far from public transportation. Another apartment had windows facing a busy highway. They both liked a third option, but the seller could not clearly explain the property’s ownership history.
They eventually found the right home in a new building on the outskirts of the district. It had three rooms, a large kitchen, two bathrooms, and an enclosed balcony. The building itself was already standing, and interior finishing work was underway. The developer promised to hand over the keys by the end of the year.
Yaroslava checked the documents several times. Demid visited the construction site with a colleague who understood building work. After that, they submitted their application to the bank.
Demid had not yet told his parents about their plans. It was not because he wanted to hide anything. He simply did not want to discuss every intermediate step. Valentina Pavlovna had a talent for turning someone else’s private decision into a family conference, even when no one had asked for her opinion.
But she discovered the apartment plans by accident.
At the beginning of August, Demid stopped by his mother’s home to fix a faulty electrical outlet. While he was looking for a tool, a bank employee called to confirm the time of their appointment. Valentina Pavlovna overheard the words “mortgage,” “down payment,” and “buyers.”
That evening, she called her son.
“What apartment are you planning to buy?”
“We haven’t bought anything yet. We’re only arranging the documents.”
“Why do you need another apartment?”
“Because the one-bedroom place is too cramped.”
“Too cramped for the two of you?”
“Mom, we aren’t planning to spend our entire lives as two people living in a single room.”
Valentina Pavlovna fell silent after that, but not for long.
She called again the following day. This time, she approached the subject indirectly. She asked which neighborhood the building was in, how many rooms the apartment had, and who would own it.
“Both of us,” Demid answered.
“And what will happen to Yaroslava’s apartment?”
“It will remain Yaroslava’s.”
“So she’ll own one apartment and then half of another?”
At the time, Demid did not pay much attention to her tone.
“Mom, we’re buying the place together. What is difficult to understand?”
“I understand perfectly. It just seems rather strange.”
Several days later, Valentina Pavlovna visited Irina. Her daughter rented an apartment not far from her mother’s home. The landlady had recently warned her that the rental conditions would be revised in the autumn, and Irina had already complained about it to every relative.
For years, she had talked about wanting a home of her own, but none of the available options ever suited her. She was afraid that an older building would require too many repairs. New developments were too far away. Studio apartments seemed too small. A one-bedroom apartment in a good neighborhood required a down payment she considered impossibly large.
Irina enjoyed talking about buying a home, but the conversation usually ended with her waiting for someone else to help.
“Demid and Yaroslava are buying a new apartment,” Valentina Pavlovna announced.
“Where did they get the money?”
“They saved it.”
Irina immediately became interested.
“What are they going to do with the current apartment?”
“Yaroslava’s place? She’s keeping it.”
“She’s done well for herself.”
For Valentina Pavlovna, that remark confirmed that her daughter was thinking correctly. By evening, she had constructed an entire scheme in her mind: Yaroslava would keep her own apartment, the couple would buy another one, and therefore her son and his wife would have one home to live in and an additional “spare” property. The fact that they would be paying off the new apartment for many years did not fit into her calculations.
Two days later, Valentina Pavlovna suggested that Demid help his sister.
“You don’t have to buy the whole apartment for her. You could at least give her the down payment.”
“With what money?”
“With the money you saved.”
Demid actually laughed.
“Mom, that money is our down payment.”
“Yaroslava already owns a home.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“You live in her apartment.”
“So?”
“That means you won’t be left without a roof over your head.”
After that conversation, Demid told his wife everything.
Yaroslava listened while standing beside the kitchen counter. She had been sorting through the documents they needed to take to the bank. Her expression remained calm, but she closed the folder more sharply than she intended.
“And what did you tell her?”
“That we weren’t giving the money away.”
“Did she understand?”
“I think so.”
Yaroslava studied her husband carefully.
“Are you sure?”
“I said it plainly.”
But Valentina Pavlovna had understood nothing. Or rather, she had chosen not to understand.
She kept returning to the subject. First, she complained that Irina was exhausted by rented housing. Then she described how difficult it was for her daughter to move repeatedly. After that, she began talking about fairness.
“Yaroslava has already received her share,” she told her son. “Why should you buy her another apartment?”
“I’m not buying anything for her. We’re buying it together.”
“You’re investing your money.”
“So is she.”
“But she already has a home.”
The conversation kept going in circles. Demid became irritated, but he did not want to argue with his mother. He answered briefly, changed the subject when possible, and hoped the matter would disappear on its own.
It did not.
Valentina Pavlovna called Yaroslava directly.
“Don’t think I’m suggesting anything unreasonable. We simply need to approach the situation sensibly.”
“What situation?”
“Irina needs support right now.”
“Then support her.”
Her mother-in-law either failed to understand the implication or pretended not to.
“I can’t afford such a purchase by myself.”
“Then Irina can save the money herself.”
“It is difficult for her.”
“It wasn’t easy for us either.”
“You already have an apartment.”
Yaroslava placed the phone on the table and switched on the speaker while continuing to organize her papers.
“Valentina Pavlovna, my apartment has nothing to do with Irina.”
“I never said it did. But you could at least show some understanding.”
“I considered the situation. My answer is still no. We are not giving away our savings.”
After that, her mother-in-law did not call for several days. Demid assumed his mother had finally accepted their answer. Yaroslava was less certain, but she did not bring up the subject again.
On Saturday, Valentina Pavlovna suggested coming to their apartment for dinner. She said she had not seen her son for a long time and wanted to spend a quiet evening together before the end of summer.
Demid agreed.
Yaroslava prepared baked chicken, vegetables, and rice. Irina arrived with her mother even though no one had invited her separately. She brought a box of chocolates and immediately began inspecting the apartment as though she intended to determine whether the couple were truly short of space.
“It seems perfectly fine here,” she said after looking into the main room. “I could live in a place like this.”
“You currently live in a larger apartment,” Demid pointed out.
“It doesn’t belong to me.”
Yaroslava placed the cutlery on the table and said nothing.
At first, they discussed Valentina Pavlovna’s summer house, the August heat, and the road repairs near her building. Irina complained that her landlady was planning to raise the rent again. Demid listened in silence.
Then his mother deliberately steered the conversation toward the subject she had come to discuss.
“When are you going to the bank?”
“Thursday,” Demid answered.
“So you haven’t signed anything yet?”
“No.”
Valentina Pavlovna exchanged a glance with her daughter.
Yaroslava noticed and put down her fork.
“Just say whatever you came to say.”
“What is there to say?” Her mother-in-law straightened in her chair. “I am simply suggesting that everything be handled sensibly.”
“We have already decided how we’re handling it.”
“A decision can still be changed before the documents are signed.”
Demid frowned.
“Mom, we’ve already discussed this.”
“You spoke to me briefly while you were busy. Now the whole family is here.”
“Why is the whole family here?”
“So no one can later claim they were not heard.”
Irina stared at her plate, but her expression made it clear that she already knew exactly what her mother was about to say.
Valentina Pavlovna folded her hands on the table and confidently delivered her conclusion.
“Since your wife already owns an apartment, we’ll register the new one in your sister’s name right away.”
She said it as though all the couple needed to do was thank her for such sensible advice.
Demid turned toward his mother.
“What do you mean, ‘we’ll register it’?”
“Exactly what I said. You can list yourselves as the buyers if the bank requires it and then transfer the ownership to Irina. Or you can immediately find out how to arrange it properly.”
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“Completely serious. You already live here. Yaroslava won’t lose her apartment, and Irina will finally stop paying strangers for a place to live.”
Irina looked up.
“I never asked for the entire apartment.”
“But you wouldn’t refuse it,” Yaroslava said.
Her sister-in-law looked away.
“If my family can help me, why should I refuse?”
“Because this isn’t help,” Yaroslava replied. “It is buying an apartment at someone else’s expense.”
“Not someone else’s. Demid is my brother.”
“And whose money do you think I contributed?”
Irina said nothing.
Demid remained motionless. He clearly had not expected his mother to go so far. Yaroslava watched him for several seconds, then glanced toward the windowsill.
“Demid, bring the notebook.”
“What notebook?”
“Ours. The one with the calculations.”
He immediately understood, stood up, and left the room.
Valentina Pavlovna shifted her shoulders with irritation.
“Why turn this into an accounting presentation? We’re only talking.”
“Then let’s talk using actual numbers.”
Demid returned with the thick, dark-covered notebook and placed it in front of his wife.
Yaroslava opened the first page. It showed the date when they had first agreed to begin saving for a new home. The following pages contained neat monthly records: Demid’s transfers, Yaroslava’s transfers, temporary expenses, money returned to the account, the property appraisal, and the apartment reservation fee.
She turned the notebook toward her mother-in-law.
“This is the first year. These are Demid’s transfers. These are mine. Here is the second year. We had to reduce the amount because the car needed repairs. Two months later, we replaced the missing money. This is the third year, and this is the current year.”
Valentina Pavlovna quickly scanned the entries.
“So what?”
“The point is that most of the money in the account did not appear by itself. We saved it over several years. Both of us.”
“I am not arguing with that.”
“You are. You keep describing this money as though it were available to give away, even though it has already been allocated for the down payment.”
Yaroslava turned another page.
“This is the mortgage calculation. After the purchase, we will still have monthly payments, insurance, registration expenses, and the cost of finishing the apartment. We aren’t buying a larger home because we have nowhere else to spend our money. We are buying it because we intend to live there and raise children.”
“But this apartment will remain,” her mother-in-law objected.
“This apartment belongs to me. I bought it before meeting Demid. It is not his contribution, your family’s emergency reserve, or compensation for Irina’s unsuccessful rental arrangements.”
Valentina Pavlovna’s face reddened.
“I’m not claiming your apartment.”
“Then why do you keep using it as justification for controlling our savings?”
“I am suggesting that you help someone close to you.”
“No. You are suggesting that we take out a mortgage, spend years paying it off, and then hand the apartment to Irina.”
“She could also contribute to the payments.”
Irina visibly tensed.
“Mom, we never discussed that.”
Yaroslava looked at her.
“What exactly did you discuss?”
“Nothing specific.”
“Then why did you come here together?”
Irina picked up her glass, took a sip of water, and placed it closer to herself.
“Mom said you had an option that could help me with housing.”
“What option?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps part of the down payment.”
“The entire down payment is in our joint account. If we give it to you, we won’t be able to buy the apartment ourselves.”
“But you already have somewhere to live.”
“So do you. You rent an apartment under a legal agreement.”
“That is temporary.”
“Our one-bedroom apartment is also unsuitable for a family with children. That is why we saved.”
Valentina Pavlovna tapped her fingers against the table.
“Everything can be resolved if you don’t cling to every last coin.”
Yaroslava closed the notebook.
“Counting our money carefully is exactly how we managed to save the down payment. Had we treated it the way you suggest, there would be nothing in that account.”
“You’re making us sound like beggars.”
“You came here demanding our future apartment.”
“No one is demanding anything!”
“Then say plainly that you are withdrawing the proposal.”
Her mother-in-law turned sharply toward her son.
“Demid, do you hear the way she is speaking to me?”
He exhaled slowly, ran a hand over his chin, and finally looked his mother directly in the eyes.
“I hear her.”
“And you’re going to remain silent?”
“I have already stayed silent for too long.”
Valentina Pavlovna froze.
Demid pulled the notebook toward himself and opened the page containing their most recent transfers.
“We saved this money for our apartment. I contributed part of it, and Yaroslava contributed part of it. We attended viewings together, chose the building together, and we will pay the mortgage together.”
“I’m not taking your apartment away from you.”
“You are suggesting that we register it in Irina’s name.”
“Yaroslava already has somewhere to live.”
“But I don’t.”
“You’re a husband. You live with your wife.”
“I live in my wife’s apartment. It is her property, not mine. If we buy a home together, it should belong to both of us.”
Irina pushed her plate away irritably.
“No one said I was going to throw you out. You could live there for as long as you wanted.”
Yaroslava stared at her in open disbelief.
“In an apartment registered in your name?”
“Well, yes.”
“While we continue paying the mortgage?”
“You’re making the whole thing sound ridiculous.”
“Your mother’s proposal was already ridiculous.”
Valentina Pavlovna raised her voice.
“I want both of my children to have homes!”
“Then help both of them with your own money,” Demid replied. “But you cannot touch our savings.”
“So your sister means nothing to you?”
“She is not a stranger to me. But help must be voluntary. And it should not destroy another family’s plans.”
“I am not destroying anything.”
“If we give Irina the down payment, our purchase falls through. If we register the apartment in her name, we will have no rights to the home we are paying for. Which part of that do you call help?”
Valentina Pavlovna opened her mouth but could not find an answer.
Yaroslava reopened the notebook and pointed to the last page.
“This is the amount we still need to contribute before the transaction. These are the expenses after we receive the keys. This is our reserve for the first few months. We do not have millions lying around freely. We have one future home that we saved for over several years.”
Her mother-in-law looked first at the figures and then at her daughter.
Irina sat with her head lowered. Apparently, she had only just realized that they were not discussing a second apartment that had already been fully paid for. Her mother had described the situation as though Demid and Yaroslava were buying another property simply because they could afford it.
“You said they already had almost everything,” she quietly reminded her mother.
“They have the down payment.”
“And the rest?”
“A mortgage.”
“For how many years?”
“I don’t know.”
“And who is supposed to pay it?”
Yaroslava answered for her mother-in-law.
“Demid and I.”
Irina rubbed her forehead with one hand.
“Mom, that isn’t what you told me.”
“I didn’t invent anything. I said they were buying an apartment.”
“You said Yaroslava’s apartment would remain hers and the new one could be given to me.”
“That is true.”
“But the new apartment isn’t paid for.”
“They’ll pay it off eventually.”
Demid gave a brief laugh.
“How convenient.”
Valentina Pavlovna frowned.
“Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not mocking you. I’m trying to understand why we should spend years paying for Irina’s apartment while continuing to live in Yaroslava’s place.”
For the first time that evening, his mother had no answer.
She looked at her son as though expecting him to soften his words, but Demid closed the notebook and moved it away from the edge of the table.
“Mom, we are buying the apartment in our own names. Both of us will be listed as the buyers and owners. The money from the account will be used only for the down payment.”
“And what about Irina?”
“We can help Irina when we choose to and if we are able to. But not by giving her an apartment. Not by giving away the down payment. And not at the expense of our mortgage.”
Irina stood up from the table.
“I don’t want everyone arguing because of me.”
Yaroslava also rose.
“Then let’s settle this right now. You are not claiming our savings or our future apartment?”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
Valentina Pavlovna gave her daughter a displeased look.
“It is easy to refuse when other people already have everything.”
“Mom, enough,” Irina snapped. “You never explained that they would have to spend years paying for it themselves. I thought you were talking about spare money or an apartment without a loan.”
“What difference does it make?”
Irina laughed, but it was brief and irritated.
“A huge difference.”
The evening ended earlier than planned.
Valentina Pavlovna gathered her things with deliberate drama. She loudly zipped her bag several times, checked her phone, and asked whether Irina had called a car. Demid made no attempt to stop her.
Before leaving, his mother turned toward him.
“You’ll regret choosing your wife over your own sister.”
Demid walked to the door and opened it.
“I’m not choosing one person over another. I’m protecting what Yaroslava and I created together.”
“You used to be different.”
“You never used to suggest taking our savings.”
Valentina Pavlovna stepped into the hallway. Irina lingered for a moment.
“I truly didn’t know all the details,” she told Yaroslava. “Mom made it sound as though you were buying another apartment without really needing it.”
“Now you know.”
“Yes.”
“Then the matter is closed.”
Irina nodded and followed her mother outside.
Demid shut the door and turned the key. For several seconds, he stood in the entryway, staring at the empty hook where his mother’s bag had been hanging.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Yaroslava collected the plates from the table and carried them into the kitchen.
“For what exactly?”
“For not stopping this sooner.”
“You thought she was only talking.”
“Yes.”
“And while you thought that, she managed to turn the conversation into a finished decision.”
Demid walked back to the table, picked up the notebook, and opened the last page again.
“We need to change something.”
Yaroslava stopped.
“What?”
“We need to separate our finances more clearly.”
“We already have a joint account.”
“Exactly. And Mom knows it exists. Now Irina knows too. I don’t want anyone treating that money as a family reserve available to every relative.”
Yaroslava dried her hands with a towel and sat across from him.
“What are you suggesting?”
“We leave the down payment where it is and use it as planned. After the purchase, each of us will have a separate current account. We’ll transfer an agreed amount toward the mortgage and shared expenses.”
“So each person helps their relatives with their own money?”
“Yes. But we’ll still discuss large amounts. Not because either of us needs permission, but because major expenses affect our shared plans.”
Yaroslava studied her husband for several seconds. He spoke calmly, without attempting to defend his mother or shift the blame entirely onto his sister.
“I agree.”
The following day, they reviewed their records and created a new financial system. The joint savings account would remain in place until the purchase was completed. After the apartment was registered, it would be used for the down payment, mandatory fees, and expenses connected with receiving the keys. Whatever remained would be transferred into an emergency reserve.
They decided to separate their current income. Each of them would keep a personal portion and transfer an agreed amount toward shared expenses. From then on, support for relatives could be provided only from personal funds, provided it did not affect the mortgage, the reserve, or mandatory payments.
Yaroslava had no desire to turn their marriage into a company filled with financial reports. But after that dinner, one thing had become clear: vague boundaries were most convenient for the people who intended to take advantage of them.
On Thursday, they arrived at the bank earlier than their scheduled appointment.
The August sunlight reflected so brightly from the glass façade that Yaroslava had to narrow her eyes. Demid carried the document folder and checked several times to make sure everything was there.
Inside the office, the bank employee explained the terms once again. Both spouses would be listed as buyers. The apartment would be registered as their joint property. Both of them would also carry responsibility for the mortgage.
Yaroslava read the contract carefully. Demid did not rush her and examined every page himself.
When the documents had been signed, the employee gathered their copies and said, “Congratulations. Now we wait for the registration to be completed.”
Outside, Demid stopped near the entrance and looked at his wife.
“We actually did it.”
“It’s only beginning.”
“But it is already ours.”
Yaroslava smiled.
“That is what matters.”
Several weeks later, they received confirmation of the registration. Both of their names appeared on the official ownership record. The money from the savings account went exactly where they had planned from the beginning.
For a while, Valentina Pavlovna did not mention the apartment. She spoke to her son in a restrained manner and did not call Yaroslava. Eventually, however, she asked Demid to help Irina search for a more affordable housing option.
He agreed to look through advertisements, but immediately established a boundary.
“I’ll help with advice. We cannot help financially right now.”
This time, his mother did not argue.
Irina also changed her approach. She found an apartment with more convenient rental terms and began saving for a down payment herself. She rarely discussed her plans, but she stopped waiting for someone else to solve the problem for her.
At the end of August, Yaroslava and Demid visited the new building. They were not yet allowed inside, so they stood behind the construction fence and looked up at the windows of their future apartment.
Workers were laying paths in the courtyard. Packages of paving tiles stood near the entrances, machinery hummed, and construction lights still glowed on the upper floors.
“Can you imagine? That will be our bedroom,” Demid said, pointing upward.
“You’re pointing at the wrong floor again.”
“No, this time I’m sure it’s ours.”
“Ours is two windows to the left.”
He narrowed his eyes and laughed.
“Fine. At least I got the right building.”
They remained by the fence for a little longer before walking back to the car.
On the way, Yaroslava said, “You know, that dinner turned out to be more useful than many family discussions.”
“Because Mom stopped suggesting that we give the apartment to Irina?”
“Not only because of that.”
Demid unlocked the car but did not get inside.
“What else?”
“It showed us something simple. We cannot allow other people to control our money and our family plans as though everything we have belongs to all our relatives.”
Demid nodded.
“I used to think saying no was enough.”
“Sometimes it is. But sometimes people hear a refusal as an invitation to keep trying to persuade you.”
“There won’t be another invitation.”
Yaroslava got into the car and placed the document folder on the back seat.
The new apartment was not ready yet. They still had the mortgage, the finishing work, the purchases, and the move ahead of them. But after that conversation, the couple knew with absolute certainty that every decision would be made by the two of them.
Not by Demid’s mother. Not by his sister. Not by relatives who were accustomed to viewing someone else’s savings as an opportunity to solve their own problems.
Only by the two people who had spent several years putting money into a joint account, recording every major expense, and moving step by step toward a home of their own.