— That’s the way things are, Yanka. I decided to sell the apartment, — Sasha sprawled on the couch and turned on the TV, as if he had just announced some important news.
— What, just like that? — Yana froze at the kitchen counter with a cup in her hands.
— Why drag it out? The payments are unbearable, utilities are rising. We need to sort this out before we sink completely into debt.
Yana sat down on the edge of the couch. Three years ago, when they had just married, Sasha’s apartment had seemed like an excellent investment. A small one-room place on the outskirts of town, but it was theirs. Sasha had taken out a mortgage even before the wedding, and afterwards they decided to live in Yana’s apartment — it was closer to the center and more spacious.
— And how much can we roughly get for it?
— The realtor says about three million. Minus the remaining mortgage — there’d be roughly one and a half million left in hand.
Yana began doing the math in her head. Considering the initial down payment and the interest already paid, it turned out they would barely break even.
— Maybe it’s better to rent it out? At least there would be some income.
— No, — Sasha suddenly sat up straight. — Dealing with tenants costs more in the long run. We sell it and put this issue behind us. We’ll register a car and a lot in mom’s name, and you finish the renovation in the meantime.
Something in his tone made Yana wary. In the three years of their life together, she had learned to catch those moments — when her husband said one thing but left another unsaid.
— Sasha, what if I ask my parents to help? They just withdrew money from a deposit.
Sasha perked up:
— How much can they give?
— I think around seven hundred thousand. But that would be a loan, of course.
— Excellent! — he smiled for the first time that evening. — Then I’ll call the realtor tomorrow; let him start preparing the documents.
Yana watched as her husband happily typed a message on his phone. Strange. Usually he weighed every financial decision for a long time, but now…
— By the way, speaking of money, — she began, — maybe you could add something for the renovation? The kitchen needs finishing, and the bathroom needs tiling.
— Yanuška, you see — I can’t do that right now. We’ll sell the apartment…
— I see, — she interrupted. — As always.
The entire evening Yana couldn’t shake off a bad feeling. The eight hundred thousand she had scraped together for the renovation of their shared apartment was entirely her own doing. Every time the topic of joint expenses came up, Sasha found reasons to opt out.
The phone chimed with a message. Maria Romanovna, her mother-in-law: “Yanulya, I’ll drop by after lunch tomorrow. We need to discuss something.”
Yana sighed. Recently, her mother-in-law had been visiting more frequently — and every time after her visits, Sasha wasn’t quite himself. As if he were about to make a decision, only to change his mind at the last minute.
At half past one, Maria Romanovna appeared on the doorstep — a stately woman in a light-colored suit. She gently stepped aside for Yana, entered the apartment, and looked around critically.
— The renovation is stalled? I heard you were going to finish it by spring.
— Good afternoon, Maria Romanovna. So far, we’ve only finished the kitchen and bathroom.
The mother-in-law placed a bulky bag on the table.
— I brought you some pies. Is Sasha home?
— He’s at work. He promised to come home early.
— That’s good, — Maria Romanovna said in her hospitable tone as she headed to the kitchen. — Put the kettle on, let’s have a chat.
Yana switched on the kettle. In her head, she wondered: it wasn’t by chance that her mother-in-law had come. She used to visit only on weekends, and even then with a week’s notice.
— I heard Sasha is selling the apartment?
— Yes, he said it yesterday.
— And rightly so. Why do you need two apartments? It’s just money thrown away.
Yana arranged the cups. — We hadn’t planned to sell. We intended to rent it out once the mortgage was paid off.
— In today’s day and age, renting is a risk, — her mother-in-law snapped. — Tenants can cause all sorts of trouble! And here you’d get a good sum of money right away.
— My parents promised to help with the debt.
— Exactly! — Maria Romanovna raised a finger. — That’s the point. We’ll pay off the mortgage, and the remainder will be wisely invested. I have some excellent options.
Yana became suspicious:
— What options?
— We’ll discuss that later, when Sasha is here. This is a family matter, — her mother-in-law sipped her tea. — The main thing is that the money will be in a safe place.
The door’s lock clicked in the hallway. Sasha had returned earlier than usual, and judging by the voices, he wasn’t alone.
— Mom, are you already here? And we’ve got documents with Nikolai Sergeyevich.
A tall man with a leather folder entered the room:
— Good afternoon! I’m your realtor. Let’s get straight to the point — we need to discuss the details of the sale.
Yana looked at her husband, bewildered:
— Sasha, we just decided this yesterday…
— Time waits for no one, — the realtor interjected. — I have an excellent offer: a young family ready to put down a deposit as soon as tomorrow. We just need to settle on the price and conditions.
Maria Romanovna moved closer:
— Sasha, remember that option I sent you? If we move quickly, we can even reserve that. We sell the apartment, dear, and the money will be with me.
— Which option? — Yana shifted her gaze from her husband to her mother-in-law.
— Oh, just one — a plot of land we looked at, — Sasha pulled out his phone. — Nikolai Sergeyevich, please, the documents so I can review them.
All evening they discussed the details of the deal. Or rather, Sasha, his mother, and the realtor talked; Yana sat silently, noting the oddities: why wasn’t her husband even negotiating on price? Why was the realtor drawing up extra documents? And what plot of land were they planning to buy?
Around nine o’clock, Nikolai Sergeyevich was getting ready to leave:
— I’ll see you tomorrow at the office. We’ll sign everything there.
Maria Romanovna hurried to follow him:
— Sasha, will you come by tomorrow morning? We need to discuss that matter.
After the guests left, Yana turned to her husband: — Could you explain what’s going on? What plot of land? What are these “questions” about?
— Nothing special. Mom is just helping with the paperwork.
— So why do I always find out last? And why arrange something in your mother’s name?
— Yanuška, don’t start, — Sasha frowned. — Let’s sleep; we have to get up early tomorrow.
That night Yana couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. Fragments of phrases swirled in her mind. “Invest wisely,” “move quickly,” “reserve in time.” And then there were her own memories. How she met Sasha at a mutual friend’s corporate party. How he courted her so beautifully, gave her flowers, took her to cafes. How he proposed…
In the morning, as she was getting ready for work, she looked out the window: Sasha’s car was already parked by the entrance. Strange — he usually left later. On the passenger seat, the silhouette of Maria Romanovna could be seen.
At work, Yana couldn’t concentrate. She opened her browser, typed in the realtor’s last name. On the real estate agency’s website his contact details were found and… another listing. A fresh one. A plot of land in the suburbs, fifteen hundred square meters. In the “Special Conditions” section it stated: “Possible registration in the name of a third party.”
Yana grabbed her phone and dialed her mother:
— Mom, remember when you mentioned money? For now, hold off on that.
In the evening Yana couldn’t take it anymore and called her longtime friend Natasha. Natasha worked in a bank and was the most knowledgeable about documents among all her acquaintances.
— Listen, I urgently need your help. Can you come over?
— I’ll be there in an hour.
Natasha arrived with a bag of groceries and a determined look:
— Tell me everything.
Yana laid out the whole story — about the sudden decision to sell the apartment, the strange behavior of her mother-in-law, and the morning visit.
— And have any documents been signed yet?
— No, they’re planning for tomorrow. But I saw some drafts at the realtor’s office. And I found the advertisement about the plot.
Natasha opened her laptop:
— Let’s take a look now. What’s the realtor’s name, again?
After half an hour they reviewed all the information about the real estate agency and the listed properties. On that very plot, a house was already planned — the project had been approved a month ago.
— Yana, has your Sasha been staying late at work recently?
— Yes, often. He says it’s for an important new project.
— And does he keep his phone on silent with you around?
— How did you know?
— I’m a friend, wake up. All the signs are there — he’s preparing an escape route. He’s registering the plot in mom’s name, isn’t hesitating to use your money, and he isn’t contributing a single penny to our common household.
Keys clattered in the hallway. Natasha quickly closed her laptop:
— I have to run. We’ll talk tomorrow.
Sasha looked at his wife’s friend in surprise: — What brings you here?
— Oh, I just dropped by to discuss some work documents, — Natasha winked at Yana. — That’s it, I’m off now.
— Documents? — Sasha tensed. — What documents?
— Work documents, — Yana snapped. — Will you have dinner?
At dinner, Sasha was unusually talkative: — Imagine, today we discussed everything with the realtor. Tomorrow we take the deposit, and the full payment will be made in a week.
— And where will the money go?
— We’ll put it in a bank to earn interest. Mom said…
— Mom, mom, — Yana pushed her plate away. — And what do you think yourself? Or is every decision now made through mom?
— What are you getting worked up about? Mom wouldn’t advise anything bad.
— Sure. And did she give good advice about that plot? And about the house you plan to build there?
Sasha froze, fork in hand: — Who told you that?
— Does it really take a genius to guess? You’re quietly preparing everything — the plot, the house. You’re drawing up documents in your mother’s name. You think I don’t understand where this is going?
— Yana, it’s not like that…
— How? Will you finally tell the truth? At least now?
Sasha was silent, staring at the floor. Yana shook her head:
— You know what? Tomorrow we’ll go to the agency. Together. And we’ll look over the documents together. Meanwhile, I’m calling my mom — I’m canceling the money transfer.
— Don’t call your mom! — Sasha jumped up. — I’ll explain everything. I promise.
Sasha paced the kitchen:
— I’ve been offered a job. In another city. A good position, with double the salary.
— And when were you planning to say that?
— After we sell the apartment. I thought we’d leave together.
— Thought, he did! — Yana threw up her hands. — And you never even asked me? I have a job here, my parents, friends!
— That’s why I didn’t mention it! I was afraid you’d refuse.
— Of course I’d refuse! You decided everything behind my back — the move, this plot.
— The plot is just a backup option. If you didn’t want to go, I’d build a house there. Mom would help.
— Ah, mom! — Yana leaned against the wall. — And she, of course, is in on everything?
— Yes. I’m sorry.
— And for how long?
— Two months ago they called with an offer. I told mom immediately; she supported it.
— And you couldn’t tell your wife?
— I was afraid you’d freak out. That’s how it is now.
— I’m not freaking out. I’m just trying to understand: are we still a family, or just neighbors sharing an apartment?
At the door, it rang. Maria Romanovna stood on the doorstep:
— I’ve been calling your phones, but there’s no answer. What’s happening?
— Nothing, Mom. Yana knows everything now.
— Ah, — the mother-in-law went into the room. — And now you’re throwing a tantrum? Your husband cares about the family, he’s building his career.
— The family? — Yana bitterly laughed. — Family means making decisions together, not behind each other’s backs.
— What do you know! — Maria Romanovna raised her voice. — A man must grow, develop. And you keep him stuck here, in your little apartment.
— In my little apartment, where I’m the one doing the renovation? Where I’m handling everything on my own?
— Then keep doing it! And Sasha will go where he’s valued.
— Mom, stop, — Sasha stepped between them. — Let us sort this out ourselves.
— Sort it out? Tomorrow we sign the documents and pay the deposit. In a month you’ll move, settle in, and then we’ll see.
— No documents, — Yana snapped. — Neither tomorrow nor the day after.
— And why is that?
— Because the apartment is mortgaged. Without my money, you can’t sell it. And I already called my parents — canceled the transfer.
Maria Romanovna flushed:
— How dare you? We’ve all decided!
— You decided. And I decided I’ve had enough. Either we do everything openly, or not at all.
— Sasha! — the mother-in-law turned to her son. — Speak up!
Sasha was silent, head down.
— What, has your dear son swallowed his tongue? — Yana crossed her arms. — Decide: are you with your wife or with your mom?
— And why are you putting him in a position of choice? — Maria Romanovna snapped. — He’s my son!
— And he’s my husband. But for some reason, you make all the important decisions behind my back.
— Because I wouldn’t advise anything bad!
— Not advise? And who came up with selling the apartment and putting everything in your name?
— That’s so the money isn’t lost!
— No, it’s to corner me! You plan things, and I’m like a doll — wherever you put me, that’s where I stand.
Sasha lifted his head:
— Enough! Mom, go home. We need to talk.
— Talk? Are you planning to cancel everything?
— Please go. I’ll handle it myself.
When Maria Romanovna left, silence hung in the apartment. Yana and Sasha sat at the kitchen table facing each other like strangers.
— I really did mean what was best, — Sasha finally said.
— Best for whom? For yourself? For your mom?
— For both of us. The salary is higher, there are more prospects.
— Didn’t you think that I have plans too? That I don’t want to just wait around?
Sasha looked up:
— What plans?
— Have you ever asked? Not once in these two months have you wondered what I want.
— You’re right. I’m sorry.
— You know what hurts the most? — Yana stood and walked to the window. — It’s not that you decided to leave. It’s that you don’t trust me. You do everything through your mom.
— She’s more experienced. And she wants what’s best for me.
— And I, then, am the bad one? Is that why everything’s done through your mom — the apartment sale, the paperwork?
— I was afraid you’d say no.
— Of course I’d say no! Because it’s wrong. We’re a family; we should make decisions together.
Sasha was silent. Outside, a streetlamp blinked, and the clock ticked on the wall.
— Let’s be honest, — Yana turned to her husband. — Why did you even look into that plot?
— It’s insurance. In case you don’t want to move.
— And what, would you just leave me behind?
— No! I mean, I’m not sure.
— I’m not sure either. Now I know nothing.
Yana sank onto a chair:
— Do you remember how we met? At that party at Marina’s?
— I remember. You were in a blue dress.
— And you spent the entire evening talking about your plans. About the business you’d start, how much money you’d make.
— I was young and foolish.
— No, you were sincere. Real. And now you seem like a stranger.
Sasha got up and walked around the kitchen:
— You know, I really did mean what was best. I thought I’d move, settle in, and then invite you.
— And I was supposed to sit and wait? Like a dog on a leash?
— No, of course not. I did everything wrong.
Yana looked at him:
— Then let’s fix it. But honestly, without your mom’s interference.
— How?
— First, we cancel tomorrow’s deal. Then we sit down and discuss what we both want. Not you alone, not me alone — together.
Sasha nodded: — Okay. And what about the apartment?
— We can rent it out for now. At least it will cover the utilities.
— And the job? Is it really that good?
— Let them wait a week. We’ll go, see the city, the conditions. We’ll decide together.
— And your job?
— I have options. But first, we’ll pay back my parents. And finish the renovation.
— I’ll add money to the renovation. And I’ll call my mom and explain.
— Did you decide, or did I have to insist?
— I decided. Truly.
Yana smiled:
— Now I believe you.
Sasha pulled his wife close:
— Forgive me. For all these secrets, for involving my mom, for being a coward.
— I forgive you. But promise — no more secrets. No more decisions behind my back.
— I promise.
— And you’ll explain to your mom that we can handle our problems on our own?
— I will. Maybe not today, though?
Yana laughed:
— Alright, not today. But definitely tomorrow.