Anna tiredly climbed to the fourth floor after work. She used to love coming home: the quiet apartment in the panel high-rise was her oasis of calm. But as soon as she opened the front door, she noticed unfamiliar men’s sneakers on the doormat. Her heart sank with anxiety: she wasn’t at all ready for guests today.
From the hallway, Kostya’s voice called out:
— Anya, you’re finally here!
Her mother-in-law, Vera Vasilievna, appeared from the kitchen door, a woman Anna usually saw a couple of times a year during holidays. Vera Vasilievna tried to smile, but her gaze was full of expectations. Kirill, Kostya’s nineteen-year-old brother, darted past her. Anna suddenly understood: they weren’t here by accident.
— What’s going on? — she asked, trying to remain polite.
Kostya moved closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially:
— My mom and I decided… well, their house in the village has completely fallen apart. There are no buses, she can’t manage on her own. And Kirill has nowhere to live either.
Anna took off her coat, feeling a growing sense of unease:
— So, they’ve moved in with us?
— Just for a while, — Kostya hastily replied.
— We’re family, — Vera Vasilievna chimed in, avoiding Anna’s gaze. — At times like this, support is the most important thing.
Anna looked around: the hallway was already filled with unfamiliar bags. In the living room, there were old boxes piled up. Kirill grumbled about the lack of available power outlets:
— I have a laptop, no place to charge it…
Anna tried to stay calm:
— Excuse me, when did you arrive?
— This morning, — Vera Vasilievna answered. — Kostya promised you wouldn’t mind…
— Yes, Anya, — Kostya supported her. — I meant to warn you, but… didn’t have time.
She looked at these people and couldn’t believe that she was the last to find out. The words stuck in her head: “So… just didn’t have time, huh?” But she didn’t want to yell. She realized it was all decided. No one had even asked for her opinion.
— So, am I understanding correctly that you’ve already moved your things in and are staying?
Kostya shrugged:
— Mom and Kirill will live with us. Temporarily.
Anna looked helplessly at her husband:
— Fine. But where are you planning to stay? We only have one free room…
Kirill shrugged:
— I’ll sleep on a mattress, I don’t mind. Just need somewhere to put my computer.
Her mother-in-law gave Anna a reproachful look:
— I hope you’re not going to object?
Anna suppressed her irritation, barely keeping her tone neutral:
— Well, let’s first figure out where to put the boxes.
Only now did she realize that none of them doubted it: the move was final. And she really was the last one to know.
The next day, the apartment was filled with the smell of cheap tobacco from Kirill, loud phone conversations from Vera Vasilievna, and the noise of the TV in the living room. Anna noticed that her space seemed to shrink. Every morning, Kirill would rush out into the hallway, take her hairdryer without asking; her mother-in-law would place jars of homemade pickles on the kitchen counter, insisting they cook “for the whole family,” and Kostya… Kostya seemed out of sorts but reassured Anna that “everything was fine.”
In the evening, Anna decided to talk to her husband in their room, with the door closed. She started quietly:
— Kostya, we’re adults. We need to discuss boundaries and timelines. After all, our apartment isn’t endless.
— It’s family, Anya, — he replied, trying to relax after a tough day at work. — How can you set a deadline for them? Mom’s situation isn’t easy… and Kirill is stuck too.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then repeated more insistently:
— Let’s at least discuss how long this will last. Maybe six months? A year? We don’t know anything.
Kostya sighed and started to justify himself:
— It’s just hard for you right now. But understand, my family needs support. This is a test for us, Anya. We’re in this together, right? You don’t seem to understand that Mom has no other option.
Anna was angry but managed to compose herself:
— I understand. I’m not against helping. But we need to clearly decide when they can stand on their own.
He raised his voice:
— These things aren’t discussed in a family! They’ll stay as long as they need to.
She felt a protest rise within her. But decided not to continue. Arguing clearly wouldn’t help. Kostya saw only selfishness in her words, instead of thinking about how to maintain balance in their relationship.
Later, when Anna was washing dishes, Vera Vasilievna came over:
— Anna, why the frown? Isn’t it nice that we’re all together? I noticed you made dinner just for yourself and Kostya, but what about Kirill and me?
Anna placed a plate down and replied almost evenly:
— I didn’t know what food you eat.
Her mother-in-law shook her head:
— I never had problems with my sons, but now I feel like we’re not fitting in.
Anna didn’t answer, not wanting to make the situation worse.
She understood that the most painful conflict wasn’t about everyday matters. They saw life differently: her mother-in-law considered “family ties” to be the highest value, while Anna saw them as a threat to her personal boundaries. And neither side was willing to compromise.
Weeks passed. Anna stopped arguing. No yelling, no scandals: she chose to remain silent. At first, her husband thought she’d “get over it.” Kirill and Vera Vasilievna saw her silence as a whim and assumed she was just “upset and would cool off soon.”
But Anna was calmer than ever. In the evenings, she locked herself in the room and spent long hours considering options: what she could rent, how to transport some furniture. She prioritized and counted the money. She realized that since no one was willing to find a compromise, she would have to go her own way.
A few times, Kostya tried to talk to her, but quickly gave up:
— Well, what’s with the silence again? — he asked with mixed feelings.
Anna only nodded in response and closed her laptop:
— I’m tired, Kostya. I want to sleep.
He frowned but, seeing her cold politeness, still didn’t believe she was capable of taking decisive action.
One evening, Anna brought empty cardboard boxes into the hallway. She carefully packed her personal belongings: work folders, favorite books, a warm blanket, some photographs. She felt strange emotions: not sadness, but a firm certainty that she couldn’t live this way anymore.
Two days later, a stack of boxes appeared by the door. Kostya noticed them when he returned from work. He nervously shifted from foot to foot:
— Anya, what’s going on? Are you leaving?
She calmly replied, not looking up from packing her clothes:
— I’m not leaving. I’m clearing my life.
— I’m sorry, but… — He looked confused. — Let’s talk? Maybe we can work things out. Mom… she just doesn’t know how to be delicate. Kirill’s also at a difficult age.
Anna shook her head:
— I already know. I tried to reach an agreement. No one made an effort. I want peace and quiet, Kostya.
— But this is our home… — he muttered.
— Our? — she looked at him directly. — Now, it seems, it’s your family’s home. And there’s no room left for me.
At that moment, Kirill appeared in the hallway:
— Anya, do you have any coffee?
She didn’t turn around and said:
— I’m about to leave, I won’t unpack the boxes. Use what’s in the cupboard.
Kirill shrugged and went to the kitchen.
Kostya clenched his fists and exhaled softly:
— You know I love you. Come back when you’ve cooled off, okay?
She didn’t respond, just continued with her task. And he didn’t ask another question, as if he didn’t believe her intentions were serious.
Anna moved out in a week. She found a modest one-room apartment, not far from the office. Day by day, she settled into the new space: she bought an inexpensive table, placed her favorite flowers on the windowsill. Staying in a family where she wasn’t listened to seemed pointless.
Kostya stayed with his mother and brother. At first, he enjoyed the flattery of being “strong” and “caring”: his mom rearranged the furniture as she pleased, Kirill sat in the living room with his laptop. But within a couple of weeks, Kostya began to notice that he had no time to himself. Endless household questions arose: no one took out the trash, everyone expected him to go shopping. Vera Vasilievna was offended if he didn’t eat what she had cooked. Kirill didn’t work, and talk of independence was off the table.
— Listen, Kirill, — Kostya started one evening. — You should find a job. I can’t keep feeding you forever.
— Don’t start, — his brother waved him off. — I don’t even know where to apply. I need to figure my life out first. And besides, you promised to help.
— I promised for a little while. But not forever…
Kirill muttered:
— Should I go work on a construction site? I’m still looking for a place where they pay well.
Kostya sighed heavily and went to the kitchen to his mother. She was setting the table:
— Mom, maybe you should think about where to move to? You wanted to live in the city, but with your own place.
Vera Vasilievna stopped, turned to her son:
— What, do we bother you here? Why say things like that?
— I just don’t know what’s next…
— But I know, — her mother-in-law shrugged. — We’re family. No one’s leaving. Besides, you and Anya bought this apartment together, and she seems to have given it up, since she left.
Kostya felt an inner turmoil. On one hand, these people were his family. He had always adjusted to his mother. On the other hand, now he saw that he was losing control of his own life. Anna probably wouldn’t return. And all because he was afraid of an “unpleasant conversation” and simply didn’t tell his wife about the move.
Two more months passed, and Kostya received a court summons. Anna had filed for divorce and division of the apartment.
In the evening, he told his mother and Kirill. They were initially surprised, then shrugged:
— A split is a split, — Kirill said. — At least now everything’s clear.
Kostya knew he would have to buy out this half if he didn’t want to share the apartment with strangers or move somewhere else. But he didn’t have that kind of money. Selling the apartment outright meant he would have to get something smaller.
The last desperate step was to call Anna. She answered calmly, without reproach:
— Yes, Kostya, I filed for divorce. This is the right thing to do.
— Where are you living now? Can you at least come by and talk?
There was a short sigh on the other end of the line:
— I have nothing to discuss. I’m not coming back.
— But you own half of it! — he blurted out. — Maybe we don’t have to be so drastic?
Anna calmly said:
— The half belongs to me legally. But in your mind, you’ve long considered it “our family nest.” I decided to get rid of my share.
— You’re selling it? — Kostya repeated, his mouth dry.
— Yes. We’ll discuss the details in court.
She hung up. And that’s when Kostya realized that no attempts at reconciliation would work. No pleas, no coaxing. Anna had gone for good.
A month later, she did sign all the documents. She gave her share of the apartment to Kostya at market price, without a single concession. She never stepped foot in that house again. She lived peacefully in her new studio apartment, which more and more felt like a true, warm home.
Kostya stayed living with his mother and brother, without Anna and without hope that she would ever return. He had spent his whole life avoiding “unpleasant conversations,” and now he was paying for it.