On Friday, Veronika hoped to finish work early.
It had been a difficult week. Two urgent projects had overlapped, one client had changed the requirements three times, and her manager had somehow developed a habit of remembering important revisions only after six in the evening. So, from the moment she woke up on Friday, Veronika resolved not to be distracted by cleaning, grocery shopping, or even a proper lunch.
By half past eleven, she had completed most of her tasks and was about to put the kettle on when the intercom buzzed.
“Delivery.”
Veronika glanced at her phone. She wasn’t expecting anything.
“What kind of delivery?”
“Two folding children’s beds. They’re addressed to you.”
“You must have the wrong apartment.”
“I have building entrance six, apartment eighty-four. Is that correct?”
“The address is correct, but I didn’t order any beds.”
The courier paused before suggesting that they check the recipient’s name.
Veronika gave him her surname.
 
“No, it says Denis Artyomovich Korneyev.”
She frowned.
Denis Korneyev was her husband’s younger brother.
“Then they definitely aren’t for me. He doesn’t live here.”
“What am I supposed to do with the order?”
“It should be delivered to whoever placed it.”
“It’s already been paid for. I only need to leave it.”
“Please don’t leave anything here.”
The conversation lasted less than a minute, yet Veronika was suddenly struck by the unpleasant feeling that this was far from over.
She walked to the window. A white delivery van was parked near the entrance, and a young man in a work jacket was handling several long, flat boxes beside it.
A minute later, her phone rang.
Her mother-in-law’s name appeared on the screen.
Nina Pavlovna rarely called Veronika in the middle of a working day. She usually preferred to communicate through her son, so the timing of this particular call was far too convenient to be a coincidence.
“Veronichka, have the beds arrived?”
She didn’t even bother to say hello.
“Nothing has arrived for me. The beds were ordered by Denis.”
“What difference does that make? They were sent to your address.”
“That’s exactly the point. It’s our address, but Denis placed the order.”
“Tell the courier to leave them in the hallway. They’re folded, so they won’t take up much room.”
Veronika stepped away from the window.
“Nina Pavlovna, why did Denis order children’s beds and send them to my apartment?”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
It wasn’t embarrassed or guilty silence. It sounded more like irritation, as though Veronika had asked a question whose answer she should already have known.
“Good heavens, didn’t Artyom tell you anything?”
“Tell me what?”
“Denis is moving.”
“Where?”
“To your place.”
Veronika automatically sat down on the edge of the sofa.
For several seconds, she stared at her closed laptop, trying to remember whether she had somehow missed a conversation with her husband.
No.
There had been no mention of Denis.
No discussion about anyone moving in.
No children’s beds.
“What do you mean, he’s moving in with us?”
“In the usual sense. Denis, Larisa, and the children are moving in. They’ll bring their belongings over this weekend. Most of it will be moved gradually, of course, but the children need somewhere to sleep immediately, so they ordered the beds in advance.”
Nina Pavlovna spoke as calmly as if she were discussing the delivery of a new refrigerator that Veronika herself had ordered and simply forgotten about.
“Who decided that they would live in my apartment?”
“Oh, don’t start, please. They’re going through a difficult time.”
“I didn’t ask whether they were having a difficult time. I asked who decided that they were moving in here.”
Her mother-in-law let out a heavy sigh.
“Veronika, why are you using that tone? Denis has to leave his apartment because the landlord is selling it. They looked at other places, but the prices are ridiculous. A decent three-bedroom apartment costs as much as if it were in central Moscow. Meanwhile, three rooms in your apartment are practically empty.”
“They’re not empty.”
“You live there alone!”
Nina Pavlovna’s voice finally changed. It acquired the unwavering certainty she always used when explaining things she considered obvious.
“You’re occupying three rooms all by yourself while my son and his children are forced to rent! Vacate the apartment. Why do you need so much space when you’re alone?”
Veronika had to ask again.
“Vacate it?”
“Yes. It’s not as if you’ll be left on the street. You can rent a studio nearby. Artyom is hardly ever home anyway. He works in another city and has company housing there. You’re here alone, whereas Denis needs a proper apartment for his two children.”
For several seconds, Veronika remained silent.
At moments like this, she always needed a little time to work out whether the other person was joking or genuinely serious.
This time, there was no room for doubt.
 
“So you’re suggesting that I rent a studio with my own money and give my apartment to Denis?”
“Not give it to him. Let him stay there for a while. Why do you always twist everything?”
“For how long?”
“How should I know? Until they get back on their feet.”
“Are they currently lying down?”
“Veronika!”
“I’m simply trying to clarify.”
Her mother-in-law was clearly becoming angry.
“They have two children. They need stability. Denis can’t drag his family from one rented apartment to another every six months.”
“But I’m supposed to move around instead?”
“You’re an adult woman without children. It’s easier for you.”
“I’m thirty-seven, Nina Pavlovna. That doesn’t mean someone can hand me a suitcase and relocate me to wherever I’ll be least inconvenient.”
“No one is evicting you!”
“Then why are you ordering me to vacate my apartment?”
There was no answer, only irritated breathing on the other end.
“Just accept the beds. You and Artyom can discuss everything this evening. He’ll explain it to you.”
“I’m not accepting the beds.”
“Don’t make a scene in front of the courier.”
“Then call Denis and tell him to change the delivery address.”
Veronika ended the call first.
The courier left about ten minutes later. She later learned that Denis had been forced to contact the store urgently and have the beds transferred to a temporary storage facility.
After that, Veronika could barely concentrate on her work.
It wasn’t because she was afraid she might suddenly be forced out of her home. That part was perfectly straightforward.
The apartment belonged entirely to her.
Artyom owned no share of it. There had been no joint investment and no mortgage paid from the family budget.
What astonished her was Nina Pavlovna’s confidence.
She hadn’t asked Veronika.
She hadn’t made a suggestion.
She hadn’t even tried to approach the subject carefully.
She had already assigned the rooms, ordered the beds, chosen a new place for Veronika to live, and apparently told Denis that everything had been settled.
It was true that Veronika had been living alone most of the time for the past six months. Artyom had been offered a temporary contract in a neighboring region. His company was launching a new production facility, and as an engineer, he needed to be there almost constantly.
The terms had been good: a higher salary, company accommodation, and paid trips home.
Veronika and Artyom had discussed the offer at length.
There had been no point in her moving with him. The contract was only for ten months, while Veronika was tied to her own job and clients. Besides, the distance was manageable enough for Artyom to come home two or three times a month.
At first, the arrangement had felt strange to both of them.
Then they had settled into a comfortable routine.
On weekdays, each of them focused on work. Artyom came home on weekends, and occasionally Veronika visited him. They spoke every evening, planned their vacation, and joked that once the project was over, they would have to get used to sharing a bathroom again.
Nina Pavlovna, however, had interpreted Artyom’s absence very differently.
In her mind, the apartment had temporarily become available.
The reason behind the family’s commotion was genuine enough.
 
Denis, his wife Larisa, and their two children had been renting a pleasant three-bedroom apartment in a nearby neighborhood for almost three years. The owner had moved abroad long ago, so the rent had hardly increased.
They had been lucky.
The apartment was close to their older daughter’s school, their younger son’s kindergarten was in the courtyard, and Denis could reach work in twenty minutes.
A month earlier, the landlord had informed them that he intended to sell the property.
Denis had until the end of the month to move out.
He immediately began searching for another place and quickly discovered how much the rental market had changed in three years. For the same amount of money, they could now afford only a two-bedroom apartment or a three-bedroom place much farther from their familiar neighborhood.
The family could manage the higher rent, but only by significantly reducing their other expenses.
Denis discussed the problem with his mother.
That was when Nina Pavlovna devised a plan that seemed so perfect to her that she regarded everyone else’s consent as a mere formality.
Her reasoning was simple.
Veronika had three rooms.
Veronika was alone.
Denis had a wife and two children.
Therefore, Denis needed the apartment more than Veronika did.
Nina Pavlovna considered everything else a minor detail that could be sorted out later.
As Veronika eventually learned, Denis had rejected the idea at first.
“Mom, have you lost your mind? The five of us can’t move in with Artyom.”
“Why five? Artyom is hardly ever there.”
“Veronika is.”
“Well, she’s a reasonable person.”
“And?”
“She can rent somewhere smaller.”
Denis assumed his mother had made a bad joke.
But several days later, Nina Pavlovna returned to the subject with an entirely different story.
She told Denis that she had spoken to Artyom.
That was only half true.
Artyom did know that his brother’s lease was ending. A week earlier, his mother had called and spent a long time complaining about how much rental prices had risen.
“If Denis doesn’t have enough for the security deposit, tell him to speak to me,” Artyom had said. “I’ll help him.”
“And then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is he supposed to pay that much every month?”
“Mom, it’s his family and his budget.”
“Is helping your own brother so difficult?”
“I just said I could help him with the deposit.”
That had been the end of their conversation.
In Nina Pavlovna’s retelling, however, the offer had been transformed into something entirely different.
Denis was told that Artyom “understood everything,” was “ready to help,” and “saw no point in letting the apartment stand empty.”
Artyom had never said the last part at all.
Denis was still uncertain.
“What does Veronika think?”
“I’ll arrange everything with her myself.”
“Mom, don’t pull any of your tricks.”
“For goodness’ sake, what tricks? We’re family, not strangers.”
 
Denis never gave his final agreement.
But he also stopped searching for another apartment with the same urgency.
Larisa knew about the situation only through her husband and assumed that the matter had nearly been settled.
Two days later, she ordered folding beds for the children because the old ones belonged to the landlord of their rented apartment.
Denis gave her the delivery address.
It was his older brother’s address.
That was how the boxes ended up outside Veronika’s door on Friday.
After speaking to her mother-in-law, Veronika called Artyom.
He didn’t answer immediately. Machinery hummed in the background, and someone nearby was speaking loudly.
“Nick, can I call you back in five minutes?”
“I’d rather ask you now. Is Denis moving into our apartment?”
Silence followed.
“What?”
“Let me put it differently. Did you promise our apartment to Denis?”
“No.”
His answer came so quickly that Veronika relaxed a little.
“Then why were two children’s beds delivered here today?”
“What beds?”
“Folding ones, ordered in your brother’s name. And your mother has just informed me that Denis, Larisa, and the children are moving in this weekend while I’m supposed to rent a studio.”
Artyom swore.
Veronika rarely heard him use language like that.
“They’re not moving anywhere.”
“Did you discuss anything remotely similar with your mother?”
“She told me about the rent. I said I could help Denis with the deposit. That’s all.”
“And the apartment?”
“No.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Nick, what kind of man do you think I am? It’s your apartment.”
Only then did Veronika feel completely reassured.
It wasn’t that she needed her husband’s permission to remain in her own home.
She simply needed to know that Artyom wasn’t trying to appease both sides at once.
In six years together, he had never given her any reason to suspect such a thing.
They had met after Veronika had already lived in the apartment for several years. She had bought it four years before meeting Artyom.
There was nothing romantic about the purchase.
Veronika had been twenty-seven at the time. She worked for a large insurance company, earned a good salary, and had spent several years saving nearly half of her income.
Then her grandmother died.
Veronika inherited a room in an old communal apartment. She had no intention of living there, so she sold it, added the money to her savings, took out a small loan, and bought a three-bedroom apartment in a residential district.
It was far from luxurious.
The previous owners seemed to have deliberately selected the strangest materials available in hardware stores during the early 2000s.
The bathroom had green tiles decorated with dolphins.
The hallway was covered in brown wallpaper with gold diamonds.
For some inexplicable reason, one of the rooms had been painted bright peach.
Veronika renovated the apartment gradually.
First the bathroom.
Then the kitchen.
A year later, she replaced the windows.
Two years after that, she changed the doors.
By the time Artyom appeared in her life, the apartment looked exactly the way she wanted it to.
They dated for ten months before deciding to live together.
In fact, Artyom initially suggested that they rent an apartment as a couple.
“Why?” Veronika had asked in surprise. “I already have a place.”
“I don’t want it to look as if I moved in with nothing but a backpack.”
“What are you planning to bring?”
“Two backpacks.”
She laughed.
A week later, he really did arrive with two backpacks, a box of books, a computer, and an enormous ficus plant that he inexplicably regarded as his most valuable possession.
They lived together for almost another year before getting married.
During that time, Artyom learned the entire history of the apartment: how Veronika had bought it, where the money had come from, and how much she had once owed on the loan.
There were no secrets.
After the wedding, they simply continued living there.
That was why Nina Pavlovna’s apparent belief that it was “Artyom’s apartment” seemed especially strange.
 
“Does she even know that the apartment belongs to me?” Veronika asked her husband.
“Of course she does.”
“Then where did all this come from?”
“Because Mom sometimes hears only the part of a conversation that suits her.”
“Did she also hear something about two beds?”
Artyom gave a quiet laugh, though he clearly didn’t find the situation amusing.
“I’m calling Denis right now.”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to understand how far they’ve already taken this.”
As it turned out, they had taken it quite far.
That evening, Denis called his brother.
The conversation lasted nearly forty minutes.
When it ended, Artyom called Veronika again.
“It’s complete madness.”
“Tell me.”
“They turned down two apartments.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom told them everything was settled.”
The first apartment had only two bedrooms, but it was spacious and just two bus stops farther from the school.
The second had three bedrooms but was in a neighboring district.
Either one would have suited Denis.
He had even arranged to view the second place with the landlord.
But after yet another conversation with his mother, he canceled the appointment.
Larisa had already begun packing their winter clothes into boxes.
Their daughter had been promised a room of her own.
Their son had been told that they would soon move in with Uncle Artyom. Nina Pavlovna had even delighted the children by telling them there was a large park near their new home.
“At least they didn’t transfer the children to another school,” Veronika said.
“Nick, I don’t even know what to say to you.”
“You don’t have to say anything to me. Did you speak to your brother?”
“Yes. He insists Mom told him I had agreed.”
“And it didn’t occur to him to ask me?”
Artyom sighed.
“I addressed that separately.”
Veronika had never been particularly close to Denis, but there had never been any hostility between them either.
He was four years younger than Artyom, worked as a supervisor at a service center, spent a great deal of time with his children, and normally seemed like a perfectly independent man.
That was why Veronika was so surprised by how easily he had allowed his mother to organize his move.
By the end of the evening, however, she began to understand how it had happened.
Nina Pavlovna had never given anyone the full story.
She told one son that the other was prepared to help.
She told the other that the matter was almost settled.
She told Larisa that Veronika had “been planning to move closer to work anyway.”
She told Veronika nothing at all until the beds arrived.
Each person had seen only a tiny piece of the situation.
Nina Pavlovna stood at the center, confidently assembling those pieces into the arrangement she wanted.
At around eleven the following morning, Veronika heard someone enter the building and then ring her doorbell.
Her mother-in-law stood outside holding a bag of groceries.
“I bought a pie. Let’s sit down and talk like reasonable people.”
Veronika allowed her inside.
Nina Pavlovna removed her shoes, walked directly into the kitchen, and began unpacking the groceries.
“Will you put the kettle on?”
“I will.”
On the surface, everything seemed almost peaceful.
Veronika brought out the cups.
Her mother-in-law sliced the pie.
For the first few minutes, they even discussed the weather and the road repairs near the building.
But Veronika knew perfectly well why Nina Pavlovna had come.
Her mother-in-law didn’t delay for long.
“I spoke to Denis yesterday. He’s upset.”
“Because of the beds?”
“Don’t be sarcastic. His entire family is under stress.”
“And am I supposed to be delighted?”
Nina Pavlovna put down her fork.
“Veronika, let’s not do this. I came here to have a civil conversation.”
“Fine.”
“You understand what kind of situation they’re in, don’t you?”
 
“I do. They need to find another rental.”
“There you go again.”
“Whose position am I supposed to take if not my own?”
“Is it so difficult for you to help your family?”
“I can help financially.”
“They don’t need money!”
“They need an apartment.”
“Yes!”
“My apartment.”
Her mother-in-law pushed her cup aside in irritation.
“Why do you insist on putting it like that? You and Artyom are family. Denis is his brother, so he isn’t a stranger to you either.”
“He isn’t.”
“Then why can’t you be understanding?”
“I can be understanding. I cannot move out of my own apartment.”
“Why are you so attached to it? You have three rooms! You sleep in one and work in another. The third one is nearly always closed.”
“So?”
“Denis has a daughter and a son. They need separate rooms.”
“Then Denis needs to rent a three-bedroom apartment.”
“But here it is!”
Nina Pavlovna gestured dramatically around the kitchen, as if she had just delivered an irrefutable argument.
Veronika smiled.
“Nina Pavlovna, may I suggest a solution?”
Her mother-in-law looked wary.
“What solution?”
“You own a two-bedroom apartment.”
“So?”
“You live alone.”
Nina Pavlovna slowly straightened in her chair.
“What are you implying?”
“I’m following your logic. Denis is struggling, and he has two children. You occupy two rooms all by yourself. Give your apartment to Denis, Larisa, and the children.”
Her mother-in-law stared at her.
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“You can rent a studio nearby.”
“Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“I’m sixty-three years old!”
“And?”
“What do you mean, ‘and’? Am I supposed to spend my remaining years moving between rented apartments?”
“Why moving between apartments? You could find a perfectly nice studio.”
“I worked my whole life for that apartment!”
“Excellent.”
“What’s excellent about it?”
“That’s a very good argument.”
Nina Pavlovna’s face turned red.
“I received that apartment after divorcing your late father-in-law, and then I had to buy out his share! I denied myself everything! I did the renovations with my own hands! The only way I’m leaving that apartment is feet first!”
Veronika nodded calmly.
“I understand you perfectly.”
“You don’t understand anything!”
“Why not? I understand very well. You don’t want to leave a home you worked hard to acquire.”
“Of course I don’t!” 
“Neither do I.”
Her mother-in-law fell silent.
Veronika took a sip of tea.
For several seconds, the only sound in the kitchen was the hum of the refrigerator.
“That’s different,” Nina Pavlovna finally said.
“How?”
“You have a husband.”
“And?”
“Artyom earns a good salary.”
“He does.”
“You can afford to rent something.”
“Denis earns a salary too.”
“He has children.”
“That is precisely why he needs to manage his family’s finances so there’s enough to provide them with housing.”
“You measure everything in money.”
“No. I simply don’t understand why my money and my apartment are treated as shared family resources while yours instantly become private property.”
Nina Pavlovna frowned.
“I’m a mother.”
“What does that change?”
“I’ve helped my children my entire life.”
“Fine.”
“So I have the right to expect them to help each other.”
“Artyom offered Denis money for the deposit.”
“A handout!”
“Why is it a handout? You’re the one saying he needs help.”
“Because he’ll have to pay rent again next month!”
“Denis was already paying rent.”
Her mother-in-law waved dismissively.
“It’s pointless talking to you. You reduce everything to figures and documents.”
“Documents are actually very useful in this situation.”
“What documents?”
Veronika stood, left the kitchen, and returned a minute later carrying a folder.
She placed the purchase agreement on the table.
Nina Pavlovna looked at the first page but didn’t touch it.
“So?”
“I bought this apartment four years before I met Artyom.”
“I know.”
“Then why does Denis believe it belongs to Artyom?”
 
Her mother-in-law’s head snapped up.
“Who told you that?”
“Artyom.”
“Artyom has twisted everything again.”
“He spoke to Denis yesterday.”
Nina Pavlovna pursed her lips.
“All I said was that you’re married and the apartment is a family home.”
“No. You told Denis that Artyom bought it.”
“What difference does that make now?”
“A very significant one.”
“You’re married!”
“So?”
“Everything belongs to both of you!”
“No, Nina Pavlovna. It doesn’t.”
Her mother-in-law clearly had no intention of discussing legal details.
She rose from the table, walked to the window, and then returned.
“You’re young. You’ll earn more.”
“Then Denis will earn more too.”
“He has children!”
“You’ve already mentioned that.”
“Because you don’t seem to hear me!”
“I hear you perfectly. Denis having children does not entitle him to my apartment.”
Nina Pavlovna grabbed her handbag.
“I thought you were a decent person.”
Veronika stood as well.
“And I think a decent person doesn’t order furniture for someone else’s apartment before asking its owner.”
Her mother-in-law said nothing.
At the door, however, she turned around.
“We’ll see what Artyom says when he comes home.”
“He’s arriving this evening.”
The look on Nina Pavlovna’s face told Veronika that she hadn’t known.
Artyom arrived at around eight.
He placed his bag beside the wardrobe, embraced his wife, and immediately asked:
“Was Mom here?”
“She was.”
“And?”
“Now she knows where Denis can move.”
“Where?”
“To her apartment.”
Artyom stared at his wife for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.
“How did that go?”
“She didn’t like it.”
“Strange.”
“She especially disliked the studio.”
After dinner, Artyom called his brother again.
This time, the conversation was brief.
“Come over tomorrow. Alone. Don’t bring any belongings. We’re going to sort this out properly.”
Denis arrived around noon on Sunday.
He came without Larisa.
Without the children.
Without any boxes.
He looked uncomfortable and spoke as soon as he crossed the threshold.
“Veronika, can I apologize first and explain everything afterward?”
 
“You can.”
The three of them sat down in the kitchen.
Artyom spoke first.
“Tell us exactly what Mom told you.”
Denis rubbed the back of his neck.
“She said you had discussed my situation. She told me you said the apartment was empty most of the time anyway and that Veronika could stay in a studio while you were working away. I asked about her. Mom said she would speak to Veronika herself and that everything was fine.”
Veronika remained silent.
“What happened next?” Artyom asked.
“Then Mom told me you had agreed to help us. I thought that if neither of you objected…”
“I offered you money for the deposit,” Artyom interrupted.
“I know that now.”
“I never said anything about the apartment.”
Denis nodded.
“I understand.”
He turned toward Veronika.
“And I misunderstood who owned it.”
“What do you mean?”
“For some reason, I was certain it belonged to Artyom.”
Veronika brought out the same folder she had shown Nina Pavlovna.
Denis quickly examined the purchase agreement.
“You bought it before you met him?”
“Four years before.”
“I didn’t even know Veronika then,” Artyom pointed out.
Denis closed the folder.
His expression made it clear that the situation now looked entirely different to him.
“Well, this is embarrassing.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Not entirely,” Veronika said. “But it would have been sensible to ask me.”
“It would have.”
He didn’t try to defend himself.
Veronika appreciated that.
“I genuinely thought you had agreed to let us stay here. I didn’t realize that she was planning to force you out of your own apartment. Mom told me you wanted to live closer to your office for a while.”
Veronika raised an eyebrow.
“I work from home.”
Denis covered his face with one hand.
“Wonderful.”
Artyom smirked.
“What else did she tell you?”
“That you were planning to rent this apartment out eventually anyway.”
“That’s news to me.”
“I’ve gathered that.”
Silence settled over the kitchen.
Then Denis sighed.
“Larisa is going to kill me.”
“Why?”
“She said we should at least view that two-bedroom place. I told her there was no point paying fifty-eight thousand a month when we could stay with my brother.”
“Was it a decent apartment?” Veronika asked.
“It was fine. Large kitchen, two bedrooms, and fifteen minutes from the school by bus.”
“Has it been rented already?”
“Yesterday.”
“What about the other one?”
“That one too.”
Artyom shook his head.
“Den, you’re thirty-three. Why is Mom still deciding where you’re going to live?”
“She isn’t.”
“Then what was all this?”
 
Denis didn’t answer.
He merely shrugged.
“I suppose I let my guard down. She sounded so certain that I assumed everything really had been discussed.”
“That’s why you speak directly to the person who owns the apartment,” Veronika said.
“I agree.”
She had expected Denis to ask if they could stay for at least a month.
Or two weeks.
Perhaps only until they found another option.
But he didn’t ask.
Instead, he stood and said:
“That’s it. The matter is closed. We’re not moving here. I’ll start searching the listings again today.”
Veronika nodded.
“Thank you.”
At the door, Denis hesitated.
“And I’m sorry about the beds.”
“Did you manage to return them?”
“Yes. Larisa still can’t understand why I gave them this address.”
“She’s a clever woman.”
“I think so too now.”
Artyom walked his brother to the car.
When he returned, he took out his phone.
“I’m going to transfer some money to him.”
“For the deposit?”
“Yes. I offered it a week ago.”
“Go ahead.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Why would I object to reasonable help? Giving someone money and surrendering another person’s apartment are very different things.”
A few minutes later, Denis received the transfer.
He added part of his own savings, and the search for another home took a week.
Eventually, the family rented a pleasant two-bedroom apartment slightly farther from the city center. Their daughter had to travel four additional bus stops to school, but the building was new, the kitchen was spacious, and there was a proper playground in the courtyard.
Later, Denis sent his brother a photograph.
The children were sitting among the boxes while Larisa assembled a new wardrobe.
The folding beds stood in the corner.
Veronika looked at the photograph and laughed.
“They were useful after all.”
“The important thing is that they’re not here,” Artyom replied.
Nina Pavlovna was the only person who remained dissatisfied with Denis’s new apartment.
For several days, she called no one.
Then she phoned Artyom.
“So what have you achieved? Denis is now going to hand almost sixty thousand every month to some stranger.”
“He was already paying rent.”
“Less!”
“Prices have gone up.”
“But you have three rooms!”
Artyom wearily rubbed his forehead.
“Mom, the apartment belongs to Veronika.”
“Here we go again.”
“We’re not starting anything. That’s simply the truth.”
“Are you her husband or her tenant?”
“Her husband.”
“Then why don’t you have any say in your own home?”
Artyom laughed.
“Because my home isn’t defined by how many square meters I can dispose of without the owner’s permission.”
“So your wife is more important than your brother?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything!”
“I helped Denis financially. He found an apartment. The problem has been solved.”
“Badly.”
“Then offer him your apartment.”
Nina Pavlovna hung up.
She didn’t call Veronika for nearly a month.
The next time Artyom came home, however, they happened to meet his mother at a shopping center.
Nina Pavlovna behaved with exaggerated restraint.
She said hello.
She asked about work.
She even inquired whether Denis liked his new apartment.
She didn’t mention the recent conflict once.
In the parking lot, Veronika remarked:
“I think your mother is still offended with me.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Then she’ll get used to it.”
 
Veronika looked at her husband.
“Do you know what surprised me most?”
“What?”
“Not the beds.”
“Then what?”
“She sincerely believed her decision was fair. I had three rooms and Denis had children, so in her mind I was obligated to share.”
“My mother has a rather unusual understanding of arithmetic.”
“But the moment I suggested that she share her two rooms, the arithmetic suddenly stopped working.”
Artyom smiled.
“That’s because she earned her apartment.”
“Whereas mine apparently grew on a tree.”
They got into the car.
Gradually, the incident stopped being a subject of daily conversation.
Denis and his family settled into their new home.
Larisa found an art club for their daughter nearby. Their younger son wasn’t transferred to a new kindergarten for several months, so Denis had to drive him halfway across the city every morning. He never once complained to Veronika about the inconvenience.
Their relationship even improved unexpectedly.
Denis helped Artyom with the car several times, joined them for barbecues, and eventually brought up the Friday incident himself.
“I learned something important from all that.”
“What?” Veronika asked.
“If Mom says she has already arranged everything with everyone, I need to call every single person she claims to have spoken to.”
“That’s a useful skill.”
“I learned it a little late.”
“The important thing is that you learned it.”
Nina Pavlovna never changed her opinion.
At a family dinner several months later, she mentioned Denis’s high rent again and sighed.
“I still think there was an easier solution.”
Denis looked at his mother.
“Mom, let’s not start.”
“What? I’m not blaming anyone.”
Veronika calmly put down her fork.
“There was an easier solution.”
Nina Pavlovna looked surprised.
“You see!”
“You could have given Denis your apartment.”
Her mother-in-law immediately frowned.
“Not this again!”
“No. I’m simply checking whether your opinion has changed.”
Denis burst out laughing.
Even Artyom turned away to hide his smile.
Nina Pavlovna stared at them indignantly for a while before waving her hand in dismissal.
No one mentioned the apartments again that evening.
Veronika had no intention of returning to the argument either.
She had understood everything that day when her mother-in-law sat in her kitchen and indignantly described how many years she had worked to obtain her own two-bedroom apartment.
Nina Pavlovna’s reasoning was simple: whoever had more rooms should share them with the person who lacked space and found rent too expensive.
In theory, it sounded almost noble.
But only while the discussion concerned someone else’s property.
The moment the same principle was applied to Nina Pavlovna’s apartment, her age, financial investment, years of hard work, renovations, property rights, and entirely reasonable desire to remain in her own home suddenly became important.
 
Veronika didn’t disagree with any of those arguments.
On the contrary, she agreed with every single one.
That was precisely why she had no intention of leaving her own apartment either.
After all, the real issue had never been the number of rooms or even the cost of rent.
It was simply astonishingly easy to decide what should be done with someone else’s property—especially after convincing yourself that its owner needed it less.