“Nika, someone ate the sausage in the fridge and left a note that says ‘It wasn’t me,’” Gleb stood in the kitchen doorway in just one sock, holding the note between two fingers like a piece of evidence.
“That’s a kid’s handwriting,” I squinted. “Leaning to the left, and there’s a mistake in ‘wasn’t’. I suspect Ulyana.”
“A ten-year-old criminal in my house,” he sighed and slipped the note into his pajama pocket. “I’ll keep it as evidence. In twenty years, I’ll show it to her fiancé.”
It was seven o’clock on a Saturday morning. A thick August fog sat over the Volga, creamy as sour cream, barely letting the church domes show through on the far bank. The linden trees under my window had already started to turn yellow at the edges. I loved these mornings: Kostroma still asleep, smelling of river and wet asphalt, with a whole day ahead of me and a half-finished nineteenth-century chest of drawers waiting for me in the workshop.
I’m thirty-eight. I restore antique furniture, so my hands are always stained with wood dye and there’s wax under my nails. My hair is red and cropped short so it stays out of the varnish. Gleb jokes that I’m the only woman in town who smells not of perfume, but of turpentine.
“Do you want some coffee?” I asked.
“I do. Just make it quietly, or Timofey will wake up and start talking about marine engines. He went on about them until midnight yesterday—now I hear diesel engines in my dreams.”
Gleb is the head of sales at AquaLine, a company that sells faucets and shower cabins. He’s forty, tall, gentle, with an early bald spot he tries to hide under a cap. His smile is great—apologetic, like he’s sorry in advance for everything. It was that smile that won me over eight years ago.
My niece and nephew were sleeping on the pull-out couch in the living room. Timofey, seventeen, tall and awkward, with perpetually scraped knuckles and serious grey eyes. He’d come from Sosnovka to apply to the river college, to become a riverboat pilot. And Ulyana, his sister, tagged along because “I’ve never seen a real city, Aunt Nika, only on TV.”
Then the doorbell rang. Long and insistent, as if someone pressed the button and forgot to let go.
“Who rings at seven in the morning?” Gleb raised his eyebrows.
“A sausage delivery,” I guessed. “Ulyana ordered it to cover her tracks.”
I looked through the peephole and stopped joking. On the landing stood Tamara Arkadyevna, my mother-in-law, perfectly put together: hair just so, beige trench coat, lips carefully outlined in coral lipstick. Sixty-six years old, thirty of them a school deputy principal. She still looks at people like they showed up without indoor shoes.
“Gleb, it’s your mother.”
“What?” he went pale and for some reason started looking for his second sock. “Maybe something happened?”
I opened the door. Tamara Arkadyevna stepped into the hallway before I could greet her, immediately checking the coat rack. Hanging there were two unfamiliar jackets: a boy’s windbreaker and a pink child’s raincoat with little ears.
“Veronika, good morning,” she said my full name like she was writing it in the school register. “I lost an earring here yesterday. A gold one, from my grandmother. Didn’t sleep all night, my blood pressure is at two hundred.”
“Mom, you should have called,” Gleb kissed her on the cheek. “We would have looked for it and brought it to you.”
“If I called, you would’ve said ‘it’s not here.’ I want to look myself.”
She walked into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, peeked under the table. Then she checked behind the radiator. For some reason, she even opened the bread box. I stood in the doorway, watching her glowing face. No one with blood pressure of two hundred could possibly bend over like that.
I remembered that yesterday she was at our place for exactly ten minutes. She dropped off a jar of pickles, didn’t take her shoes off, stood in the hallway for a bit, and left. She hadn’t even reached the kitchen. I had no idea how she could’ve lost her earring there.
“Oh!” Tamara Arkadyevna stuck her hand into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a tiny gold stud. “Here it is! It got wedged into the lining. I swear, my head is full of holes.”
“Great,” I said. “So everything’s been found.”
“Found, found,” she said already sitting at the table with her hands folded. “But I’ve just come from the road, I need some tea. And something to wash my pill down with.”
At that moment Uliana entered the kitchen. Barefoot, wearing Timofey’s oversized T-shirt that reached her knees, a knot of hair at the back of her head, and a pillow mark on her cheek. She saw the unfamiliar woman and froze.
“Hello,” said Uliana. “Who are you?”
“That’s what I should be asking,” Tamara Arkadyevna turned slowly to me. “Veronika, who is this child?”
“My niece, Uliana. From Sosnovka. And in the living room is her brother, Timofey.”
“Two of them?” my mother-in-law said it like I had just announced a cockroach infestation.
“Two,” Uliana confirmed, sniffing. “We’re not staying long. Timka’s here for admissions, and I’m just checking out the city. Did you eat the sausage? I just wanted to check.”
Gleb nearly choked on his coffee. I barely held back laughter. But Tamara Arkadyevna didn’t even crack a smile.
“And how long is ‘not long’?” she asked.
“About ten days,” Timofey appeared from the hallway, already dressed, washed, his hair still damp. “Hello. Exams, then results, then moving into the dorm. I calculated it.”
“You calculated it,” my mother-in-law nodded. “But did the hosts calculate it?”
“Mom,” Gleb coughed. “Why are you doing this?”
“What? I’m just asking,” Tamara Arkadyevna took a sip of her tea and glanced at me over the cup. “The apartment with the kitchen. We gifted it to Gleb so you could build a family. Not to open a hostel for Sosnovka.”
Timofey turned red all the way to his ears. Uliana stopped smiling and hid behind me. I felt her hot little hand clutch my elbow.
“Tamara Arkadyevna,” I said evenly. “It seems you’re feeling better. Is your blood pressure fine now?”
“Much better,” she replied, standing up and buttoning her coat. “Your news cleared everything up for me. Gleb, walk your mother out.”
The two of them left. The door clicked shut. Timofey stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the floor.
“Aunt Nick, I can go to a hostel,” he said quietly. “I have four thousand saved up. Enough for a couple of nights.”
“Tim, right now you’re going to sit down and eat three sandwiches,” I replied. “And Uliana will tell us what happened to the sausage. That’s all I need from you two at the moment.”
But inside, something tightened in me. ‘We gifted it to Gleb.’ Tamara Arkadyevna always played that card whenever I did anything that didn’t follow her plan.
Two days later she came back. This time she called ahead and said she’d bring pastries. The pastries turned out to be store-bought, in a plastic box with a price tag.
“Well, mister applicant,” she said, taking the seat at the head of the table like she was chairing a meeting. “How’s it going? Did you pass math?”
“I passed,” Timofey said, sitting over his navigation textbook. “Eighty-two points.”
“Not bad for a village school,” Tamara Arkadyevna said as she bit into a pastry. “Back in the city, that kind of score was for C students. But for you, I suppose it’s an achievement.”
At that moment, I was sanding the leg of an old chair right there in the kitchen, on top of a newspaper. I stopped and looked up.
“What do you mean, ‘for you’?” I asked.
“Nothing at all. I’ve been in education for thirty years, Veronika, I know the level there.” She turned to Ulyana, who was drawing at the table. “And you, sweetheart, what grade are you in?”
“I’m moving to fourth grade. I got an A in reading and a B in conduct,” Ulyana said proudly. “A B because I put a frog in Vasya Kudryavtsev’s backpack. But he started it.”
“A frog,” Tamara Arkadyevna repeated. “Well, of course. It’s the countryside.”
Ulyana looked at her intently, like kids do when they suddenly realize an adult isn’t kind. Then she silently gathered her pencils and left for the living room. Timofey got up to follow.
“I’m going to the store to buy bread,” he muttered. “Ulyana, get your coat, you’re coming with me.”
The door slammed. I set the sandpaper down on the newspaper and wiped my hands on my apron.
“Why?” I asked. “Why did you have to talk to the child like that?”
“I spoke perfectly fine with her. I’m just telling the truth,” my mother-in-law brushed off the crumbs. “You took them in, but have you thought about what happens next? The boy gets accepted, but might not get a dorm room for a month. Or maybe not at all. He’ll end up living with you until spring.”
“Then he’ll stay with us.”
“He’ll stay?” She set her pastry aside. “Veronika, have you thought about Gleb? He comes home from work to two strange kids in the living room, a TV, toys everywhere. A man needs his peace.”
“They’re not strangers. They’re my sister’s kids.”
“Your sister’s kids. Not mine. Not Gleb’s.” Tamara Arkadyevna stood up and walked to the window where you could see the Volga. “I bought this apartment with my own savings. Saved up for thirty years. Put money into a savings account, never went on vacation. And now just anyone sleeps here.”
“Just anyone?” I felt my chin start to tremble. “Timofey’s been working hard since he was twelve. He fixed Grandpa’s tractor while you were sunbathing down south!”
“Don’t raise your voice at me,” she said coldly. “I’m not your student.”
“And I’m not your student, either.”
We stood facing each other. Outside, a barge loaded with sand crawled slowly down the river, and gulls screamed above it. The air smelled like wood dust and store-bought pastries.
“Gleb has a soft heart,” Tamara Arkadyevna said more quietly. “He can’t say no. That’s why a wife needs to stand up for her family. Not let everyone into the house.”
“I am standing up for my family. For mine.”
“Is that so,” she buttoned her coat all the way up. “Then I’ll talk to my son. We’ll see who he chooses.”
She left. I sat down on the stool and stared at the half-sanded chair leg for a long time. “We’ll see who he chooses.” As if this were some game where someone has to lose.
Gleb came home just before ten. I could tell right away from his face that his mother had already called him. He smiled his usual guilty smile, but this time it was crooked.
He skipped dinner, sat on a stool, kneaded a paper napkin in his hands and stayed silent for a long time. I waited. From the living room, I could hear the hum of the TV and Ulyana’s laughter—Timofey was reading something funny to her out loud.
“Nik, let’s do this calmly,” he finally began. “No nerves.”
“Alright. I’m calm.”
“Mom’s really upset. She called, she was crying.” Gleb rolled the napkin into a ball. “She says you yelled at her.”
“I responded after she called Ulyana a hick. She’s only ten, Gleb.”
“Well, Mom’s old-fashioned, that’s just how she talks…” he looked away. “Listen, maybe Timofey really should look for a room? Or maybe just head home until he gets his dorm spot.”
I looked at my husband, trying to recognize him. Eight years ago, this man carried me through snow drifts to the registry office because my heel broke. This man cried at my grandmother’s funeral.
“Home is a hundred and twenty kilometers away,” I said. “There’s only one bus a day. How is he supposed to get to class?”
“I don’t know!” Gleb suddenly raised his voice. “He’ll figure something out! Nik, I’m not responsible for all your Sosnovka people! Today it’s Timofey, tomorrow his friends, the next day your sister and her husband will show up to do some shopping. And they’ll all stay with us!”
“No one else has asked to stay with us except Timofey.”
“Not yet!” He jumped up, paced around the kitchen. “Mom’s right. This apartment isn’t a hotel. And besides, it was her gift. To me. Get it? To me.”
The word ‘me’ landed on the table like a stone. I slowly placed my hands on my knees.
“So who am I here, exactly?” I asked quietly.
“You’re my wife. But it’s… well, legally…” He trailed off. “Nik, don’t get hung up on words.”
“I’m not hung up. I want to understand. What is Timofey to you?”
“He’s nobody to me!” Gleb blurted out. “A guy from the country, I’ve met him twice in my life!”
The living room went quiet. The TV kept mumbling, but the laughter had stopped. I realized the walls here were as thin as plywood and they’d heard everything.
“Alright,” I said. “I hear you.”
“Nik, I’m sorry, I lost my temper…” He came up behind me and put his arms around my shoulders. “You’re smart. You get it.”
I stood in his arms and felt nothing. As if he was hugging an old cabinet that’s about to be carried out to the curb.
In the morning, Timofey was already sitting at the kitchen table with his backpack packed. Ulyana was dozing on his shoulder in her puffy coat, even though it was eighteen degrees outside.
“Aunt Nik, we’re catching the eight o’clock bus,” he said calmly, sounding grown up. “I talked to the tech school, I’ll travel from September first until I get a dorm spot. There are guys from our district with a room already. Maybe they’ll let me stay.”
“Tim, sit down. You’re not going anywhere.”
“We are,” he shook his head. “I heard everything last night. I’m no one to him, Aunt Nik. And that’s okay. I’m someone to myself and that’s enough.”
Gleb came out of the bedroom, hair tousled, T-shirt wrinkled. He saw the backpack and let out a breath, as if relieved.
“You’re leaving? Well… maybe that’s for the best. Let me send you money for a taxi.”
“No need,” Timofey stood up. “I’ve got four thousand.”
Ulyana woke up and looked at Gleb with sleepy eyes. Then she said something I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
“Uncle Gleb, I ate the sausage,” she admitted. “I’m sorry. I thought you had a lot. But it turns out, you barely have anything at all.”
They left. I walked them to the bus station, made sure they got on the old PAZ bus marked ‘Sosnovka – Kostroma,’ and stood there until it disappeared around the bend. The fog over the Volga never lifted that morning. It hung heavy and gray all day, like a wet blanket.
That evening, Tamara Arkadievna called. Her voice was ringing, like someone who just won the lottery.
“Veronika, I heard the boy went home? That’s good. He understood on his own, no drama. So he’s well-mannered, even if he is from the country.”
“He understood more than you think,” I replied.
“That’s just fine. Tomorrow I’ll bake a pie, come over, and we’ll sit together, just like old times. A real family evening.”
“Don’t come tomorrow.”
“What do you mean, don’t come?” she faltered. “I’m coming to see my son.”
“Visit your son anywhere you like. But not here, not to me. I need quiet. And I don’t need you anymore.”
I hung up and sat in the dark for a long time. The apartment felt suddenly spacious, empty, spotless. On the sofa were neatly folded sheets, and on the armrest, Uliana’s forgotten pink pencil with its chewed-up end.
That’s when I realized something simple. Everything here was given to me. The walls, the windows, the view of the Volga. I was allowed to live here—as long as I behaved. This wasn’t a home, but a tidy cage with fancy renovations.
Except the renovations, by the way, were done by me. I built the kitchen myself, with my own hands, from an old oak sideboard I rescued from a dump and restored over six months. The hallway wardrobe was mine too, a hundred-year-old piece with carved doors—a collector once offered me two hundred thousand for it. I have receipts for the tiles, plumbing, and wiring in a folder, because I’m a restorer and I keep every document.
A week later, I rented a two-room apartment on Polevaya Street, just five minutes from the river college. I called my sister Lida.
“Lida, let Timofey live with me,” I said. “No more dorms. He can stay as long as he needs.”
“Nika, are you out of your mind?” Lida burst out on the phone. “What about Gleb?”
“Gleb is no longer part of the equation.”
On Saturday, exactly at seven in the morning, I called the movers. The irony was unplanned, but fitting. Gleb came out of the bedroom wearing just one sock and saw two guys in blue coveralls taking my wardrobe doors off their hinges.
“Nika… what is this?” he whispered.
“This is mine,” I handed him a folder. “Here are the receipts for the kitchen, the tile, all the plumbing. By the way, your ‘AquaLine’ didn’t give any discounts. The apartment is yours, a gift—I won’t argue. But everything inside was bought with my money and made with my hands.”
“You can’t… are you leaving? Is it because of some kid?”
“Not because of the kid. Because of the word ‘nobody,’” I said. “Turns out, I was a nobody here for eight years too. No one ever told me that out loud.”
He grabbed his phone and started calling his mother. Twenty minutes later, Tamara Arkadievna burst into the apartment—no hair done, still in her house slippers, coat thrown over her pajamas. Her lipstick was smudged, and she wasn’t wearing any earrings.
“Veronika, what do you think you’re doing?!” she screamed from the doorway. “This is our apartment!”
“The apartment is yours, all yours,” I agreed. “Take it. The walls, the windows, the view of the Volga River. But the cupboard, the wardrobe, the kitchen, and the balcony tiles—I’m taking those with me. Gleb has all the documents, go ahead and read them.”
The movers carried out the oak cupboard. In the kitchen, there was nothing left but a bare wall, with wires sticking out and marks where the screws had been. Tamara Arkadyevna stared at the empty space, gasping for air.
“Gleb!” she shrieked so loudly that the neighbor upstairs banged on the radiator. “Gleb, she’s taking the kitchen! Do something! Where are we supposed to eat?!”
“Mom, I don’t know!” Gleb paced the hallway, holding a folder. “Everything is in her name, Mom! All the papers!”
“What do you mean, in her name?! Were you even paying attention, you fool?!”
I put on my jacket, grabbed a pink pencil from the armrest, and slipped it into my pocket. I snatched the folder from his hands. At the door, I glanced back. My mother-in-law was trembling in the middle of the empty hallway, her son stood nearby with only one sock on, and both of them stared at me.
“Veronika!” she shouted after me, her voice cracking. “Come back right now! You have no right! Do you hear me?! None at all!”
“For a city woman, you have terrible manners. Really terrible.”
I closed the door behind me. The stairwell smelled of river and wet asphalt. Somewhere below, the truck doors banged, and my phone rang in my pocket.
“Aunt Nika,” Timofey said. “Ulka and I are at the train station. Come meet us.”