Maria sighed and averted her gaze from the screen. Her eyes were tired from endlessly studying the blueprints that the restoration architect had been reviewing for the third hour in a row. There was nothing she could do—she had to submit the project by Monday. She took a sip of her cooled coffee and stretched, loosening her stiff muscles.
It had long been dark outside. Her colleagues had gone home, and only she remained in the architectural bureau.
“Still working on the old manor?” Victor Andreevich, the head of the bureau, appeared in the doorway. “Go home, Masha. The project looks flawless.”
“Thank you, but I want to make a couple more changes. Everything will be completely ready by tomorrow morning,” she replied.
The head nodded understandingly and left. Masha rubbed the bridge of her nose. There was no need to hurry home. Denis would be staying late anyway. Her husband had a corporate event today, which meant it would be noisy, fun, and most likely long.
The phone vibrated—a message had come from Denis: “Everything’s going great! Don’t wait for me at dinner. Love you!” Below was a winking smiley. Masha smiled weakly. Her husband was always like that—lighthearted, carefree, living in the moment. And working as a corporate event organizer suited him perfectly.
After gathering her things, Masha stepped outside. The cool spring wind refreshed her face. She decided to walk—she wanted to clear her head.
The shop windows sparkled with bright signs. In one of them, Masha noticed an elegant dress. She stopped, mentally trying it on, but then immediately pulled back—it was too expensive. Better to save the money for a down payment on an apartment. That was more important.
The rented apartment greeted her with emptiness and silence. Masha set the kettle on and sat down at her mail. Among the advertising brochures and bills, she found a strange envelope with an official seal.
She opened it and slowly sank into her chair. A notary from St. Petersburg announced that Uncle Alexey was no more. And that Masha was the sole heir. Her uncle had left her a furniture workshop, an apartment, and a bank account.
“It can’t be,” Masha murmured.
Uncle Alexey was her mother’s brother. Many years ago, he had moved to St. Petersburg, and their contact had nearly ceased. Masha remembered him as a kind, smiling man who always brought her chocolates. They had once been very close, but then…
The kettle began to boil, pulling Masha out of her memories. She stirred her tea thoughtfully, trying to comprehend the news. Could it be that she now owned an apartment? And a business? And money?
Her first thought was to tell Denis immediately. He would be thrilled! They could buy the house he dreamed of. Travel more. Live more expansively.
But something stopped Masha. She recalled a recent conversation with her husband.
“Aren’t you denying yourself again?” Denis had looked at his wife disapprovingly after she turned down his proposal to fly to Sochi for the weekend. “We’re not poor students! We can afford a vacation.”
“We’re saving for an apartment, remember?” Masha had tried to speak calmly.
“How long will we keep saving! Life is passing us by, and we’re still counting pennies.”
“These aren’t pennies, but our future.”
Denis had just waved it off:
“If we really had money, the housing issue would have been solved long ago.”
Remembering that, Masha frowned. What would Denis do if he learned about the inheritance? Would he insist on buying a suburban house? Suggest investing the money in his friends’ dubious projects? Or would he just start spending it on entertainment?
The phone vibrated again. Denis sent a photo: he was in the middle of a lively group, everyone holding glasses. “Great evening! I’m on my way home. Good news—the firm has ordered two more corporate events!”
Masha drummed her fingers on the table. What if… what if she didn’t mention the inheritance for now? At least until she figured out what she had received. She needed to know just how serious it all was.
After all, if her uncle had indeed left her the workshop, she would need to decide what to do with it. Sell it? Keep it? Hire a manager? And what about the apartment? What condition was it in?
Her heart pounded even faster. A strange excitement filled her. All her life she had planned, saved, calculated every step. And now fate had given her a chance. An unexpected, unmerited one.
The sound of a key in the lock echoed in the hallway. Denis had returned. Masha quickly folded the letter and hid it in a desk drawer. It was decided—for now, no one would know about it. Not even her husband.
“Mashul, aren’t you asleep?” Denis appeared in the kitchen doorway, happy and flushed. “The corporate event was amazing! And guess what—I immediately secured two new orders.”
“Well done,” Masha tried to sound natural. “Tea?”
“Better something to eat. I’m starving,” her husband said as he peered into the refrigerator. “Oh, cutlets!”
While Denis dined, Masha half-listened to his excited recounting of the evening. Inside, a plan was forming. She would take leave. Tell him she was going to professional development courses. And she would go to St. Petersburg to see everything with her own eyes.
“…and you know, they’re ready to pay twice the usual rate!” Denis beamed with pleasure. “Maybe now you’ll stop fretting over every penny?”
“Maybe,” Masha smiled.
Soon she was on a train heading to St. Petersburg. She told her husband she was going to a restoration architects’ course. Denis was only happy that he could host a party with his friends at home.
The train rhythmically clattered along. Forests and fields passed by outside. For the first time in many years, Masha had done something spontaneous and even a little risky. And that thought lightened her soul.
A week later, she returned from St. Petersburg a completely changed person.
The notary officially confirmed—Uncle Alexey had indeed bequeathed everything to her. A successful business, a cozy, spacious apartment, and an impressive sum in the bank.
Masha wandered along the quiet streets of St. Petersburg, pondering how unexpectedly her fate had turned. The furniture workshop had become a thriving enterprise with a team of experienced craftsmen. Pavel Sergeevich, the manager, greeted the heiress with deep reverence.
“Your uncle created a unique enterprise,” the elderly man said as he led Maria through the workshops. “We work only with high-quality materials and pay special attention to every detail.”
Masha carefully examined the sketches, the finished products, and met the employees. Many recognized her from photographs her uncle had often shown.
The apartment made a strong impression on her. High ceilings, spacious rooms overlooking the embankment. Masha slowly walked over the parquet, gently touching the antique furniture. The space was full of air and light.
On her way home, the architect couldn’t close her eyes all night. An inner voice persistently whispered: don’t rush to tell Denis. Think it through first.
Denis greeted his wife with a bouquet of flowers and news about a major order.
“Can you imagine, the oil company’s anniversary!” he exclaimed, pacing around the kitchen. “The budget is just fantastic. I’ve already planned everything! We’ll order virtual reality, invite a famous DJ.”
Masha nodded and smiled, but inside she was tormented by the question: should she tell him or not?
“Mashul, are you even listening?” Denis waved his hand in front of her face. “What’s with you? Were those courses that exhausting?”
“Just tired from the trip,” Masha replied, taking a sip of tea.
Throughout the following week, Masha observed her husband. Denis constantly talked about money. About how lavishly his friend Kostya lived. About the brand-new car his neighbor had. About how “it’s time to relax and live for ourselves.”
One morning, her husband entered the kitchen with a thoughtful expression.
“Listen, I have an idea,” he began, sitting across from her. “Let’s take out a loan and buy a decent car. Enough with this junk!”
“We have other plans,” Masha reminded him. “The apartment, remember?”
“The apartment can wait!” Denis dismissed. “First the car, then the house. With a car, you can drive to orders and impress clients.”
Her husband passionately laid out his plans. Masha watched him, feeling something inside begin to crack. Denis would never change. For him, external glamour mattered more than a secure future.
That night, Masha made her decision. She would not reveal the inheritance. Not now. Perhaps never.
The next day, she officially registered the business in her name. She asked Pavel Sergeevich to remain as manager and arranged for regular electronic reports.
Masha decided to leave the apartment alone for the time being. Let it stand. Sometimes she could go there, telling her husband she was there on business. She also decided not to touch the money in the account.
Life continued its course. Masha worked at the bureau, while Denis organized events. The money in the account kept growing.
But something changed between them. Masha no longer argued with her husband about expenses. She no longer persuaded him to save. She simply silently accumulated her share.
“You’ve changed,” Denis remarked one day. “You’ve become kind of cold and detached.”
“I’ve just grown up,” Masha replied.
Half a year passed. Denis began taking on fewer orders. He was constantly disappearing to meet friends. One evening, Masha suggested a serious talk.
“We need to decide where we’re headed,” she said, setting down the tea cups. “Do you want a family? Children? Your own home? What are our goals?”
Denis laughed:
“Mashul, what’s gotten into you? Goals? We just live and live!”
“I want more,” Masha stated firmly.
“Okay,” her husband suddenly turned serious. “I have a plan! You take out a mortgage in your name. With your stable job, they’ll definitely approve it. And I’ll take care of the renovations, manage the process.”
“So, I pay, and you manage?” Masha looked at him testing him.
“Well, yes,” Denis saw nothing strange in it. “Everyone has their role. You understand, my work is unstable.”
At that moment, Masha finally realized—she had made the right decision by not revealing the inheritance. Denis saw her only as a source of income, not as a partner.
Two weeks later, Masha packed her husband’s things and suggested they live apart for a while.
“We need a break,” she said calmly.
Denis was in shock. He shouted, accused her, then promised to change. But in the end, he left to a friend’s place. He was sure that “the little wife would come to her senses” and call him back.
Masha didn’t call him back. Instead, she handed in her resignation and moved to St. Petersburg. She decided to manage the workshop herself. To her surprise, working with wood completely captivated her. Her uncle’s craftsmen taught her the basics, and her architectural education helped her create original sketches.
Denis called, texted. At first, he pleaded for her return, then he threatened, then he again suggested “starting over.” Masha politely refused.
The information about the inheritance eventually leaked. Mutual friends told Denis the truth. He sent an angry message:
“You deliberately hid everything! You betrayed me! We could have lived luxuriously with your money!”
Masha quietly smiled and blocked his number. Now she was absolutely convinced—the decision to hide the inheritance had been the right one.
A year passed. Masha sat in her workshop, checking new chair sketches. The view from the window opened onto a river. Her life had completely changed. Now she had her own team. People who truly valued professionalism and hard work.
Masha did not regret a thing. The inheritance helped her see her husband’s true colors. And it also gave her the opportunity to start life anew. A life where she could be herself, without conforming to someone else’s desires.
The phone rang. The caller ID showed the name of the lead designer with whom the workshop had begun collaborating. Masha smiled. Ahead lay lots of work, many plans, and not a single desire to go back.