Galina Ivanovna put the kettle on and plopped down on the kitchen chair. Outside, a drizzle was falling, gray clouds pressed on her shoulders, intensifying the gravity of the moment.
Seventy-three years old — the perfect time to think about what will remain after you.
— It needs to be decided, — she muttered into the empty apartment.
A three-room apartment in the city center — that was the only wealth she could leave to her children. She had worked all her life as an engineer, raising her son and daughter alone, without a husband. Now they had their own families, their own lives.
The phone erupted with a ring, breaking her thoughts.
— Mommy, how are you? — Irina’s voice, her daughter, dripped with concern. — I sent you a package; it should arrive today. Your favorite tea and cookies are inside.
— Thank you, Irina, — Galina Ivanovna’s eyes moistened. — You are so caring.
— Oh, Mom, come on! It’s normal to care for your parents. Are you taking those pills the doctor prescribed?
They chatted for almost an hour. Irina inquired about her health, the neighbors, pushed new medicines. Such calls had become a ritual — at least twice a week.
After the call, Galina Ivanovna smiled. Her decision seemed right. Irina deserved the apartment — she called, fussed, sent gifts. And her son Viktor… He was decent, of course, but always disappeared at work. And his wife Natasha… What did she even understand about family values? Some cold, taciturn woman.
The next day, Galina Ivanovna dragged herself to the notary. She was determined to make a will and transfer the apartment to her daughter.
— Galina Ivanovna, are you sure about your decision? — asked the notary, a gray-haired man with a sharp gaze.
— Absolutely, — she snapped. — My daughter is always near, always worries about me. She deserves it.
— Good, we’ll prepare the documents. Come back in three days.
At home, Galina Ivanovna felt light. As if a weight had lifted off her shoulders. She had made the right choice. Or had she?
Two days later, someone knocked at the door. Galina Ivanovna struggled to get up from her chair and hobbled to open it.
— Who is it?
— It’s me, Natasha.
Galina Ivanovna frowned. Her daughter-in-law? Why? She opened the door.
Natasha stood on the threshold with bags.
— Hello, Galina Ivanovna. I brought groceries and the medicines you mentioned last time.
— And where is Vitya? — Galina Ivanovna looked around as if her son could be hiding in the stairwell.
— He’s at work. They’re swamped, — Natasha squeezed inside and headed to the kitchen. — I decided to stop by myself. Haven’t been here for a long time.
Galina Ivanovna watched distrustfully as her daughter-in-law unpacked the bags.
— I made borscht, — Natasha pulled out a large jar. — And fried cutlets. Vitya said you like them with potatoes.
— I used to, — Galina Ivanovna muttered, but her gaze softened.
Natasha bustled around the kitchen, putting away groceries, chatting about nonsense. Then she noticed a leaking faucet.
— Has it been leaking long?
— About a month now.
— Why didn’t you say? — Natasha went under the sink. — My brother is a plumber; I’ll call him now.
Galina Ivanovna watched Natasha with surprise. In two hours, Natasha had washed the dishes, dusted, and called her brother, who came and replaced the faucet’s washer.
— I won’t take money, Aunt Galya, — the young man smiled. — Bake Natasha some pies; she loves them.
— Oh, Sergey, — Natasha blushed.
When Natasha was about to leave, Galina Ivanovna asked:
— Why did you come all of a sudden? Did Irina send you?
Natasha raised her eyebrows in surprise:
— No, why would you think that? I just missed you. And Vitya wanted to come, but work…
— I thought Irina… — Galina Ivanovna stopped herself.
— When did you last see her?
— She lives far away, it’s inconvenient for her, — Galina Ivanovna recited the rehearsed phrase automatically.
— Actually, she lives in the next district. Half an hour by bus, — Natasha shrugged. — Well, I gotta go. Call if you need anything.
That evening, Galina Ivanovna stared at the phone for a long time, debating whether to call her daughter. Natasha’s words spun in her head. Was it true that Irina lived so close? Then why did she only call and never come?
The next day, she went to the notary but didn’t enter the office. Something stopped her. A nagging doubt. Maybe it wasn’t so simple and obvious?
When she returned home, Irina called:
— Mommy, did you sign the documents at the notary?
Galina Ivanovna froze. How did Irina know about the notary?
— What documents, dear?
— Well… the ones you were going to sign, — Irina hesitated. — You said you wanted to put everything in order.
— What to put in order? — Galina Ivanovna felt a chill run down her spine.
— Mom, don’t fool yourself, — Irina’s voice became harsher. — You said you wanted to register the apartment. In my name.
Galina Ivanovna sank into the chair. Her head buzzed. She never told her daughter about her decision.
— I didn’t say that, Ira.
— You did! — hysteria rang in her daughter’s voice. — What, have you forgotten? Is your memory failing? Maybe you need a doctor?
— My memory is fine, — Galina Ivanovna felt hurt boiling inside. — I promised nothing to anyone.
— Oh, so! — Irina no longer hid her irritation. — So I’ve been calling you for years, caring for you, and you!
Galina Ivanovna hung up. Her hands trembled. The phone rang again, but she didn’t pick up. Then again and again. Finally, she just turned it off.
That evening, there was a knock on the door. Angry Irina stood on the threshold.
— Why don’t you answer the phone? — she pushed into the apartment without waiting for an invitation.
— I was resting, — Galina Ivanovna lied.
— You know what I think? — Irina sat down in the kitchen chair. — It’s all Vitya and Natasha. They fed you some lies. Admit it!
— What lies?
— They’ve turned you against me, — Irina nervously drummed her fingers on the table. — They want to take your apartment for themselves.
Galina Ivanovna looked at her daughter in surprise:
— Nobody told me anything. Vitya hasn’t visited for a long time.
— And Natasha? — Irina squinted. — Has she come?
— She came. Brought groceries and fixed the faucet.
— Ha! — Irina jumped up. — It’s clear! She’s trying to gain your trust. Probably already whispering to you to transfer the apartment to them?
— Ira, what are you talking about? — Galina Ivanovna rubbed her temples. — No one is whispering anything to me.
— Come on, Mom! I’m not stupid! — Irina paced the kitchen. — That Natasha is cunning. Why else would she help you? Out of love? Don’t make me laugh!
At that moment, Irina’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen, grimaced, and stepped away to the window.
— Yes, Zhanna, — her voice softened immediately. — No, I’m at Mom’s. Running late, yes. Couldn’t convince the old lady… — she stopped and glanced at her mother. — Anyway, she didn’t sign. What? No, she didn’t change her mind, just… damn, I’ll call you back later.
Irina put away the phone and turned around. Galina Ivanovna looked at her with empty eyes.
— It’s not what you think, — Irina muttered.
— What did I think? — Galina Ivanovna asked quietly.
— Well… — Irina hesitated. — You misunderstood. I didn’t mean that.
— Then what did you mean when you called me “old”? — Galina Ivanovna stood up, leaning on the table. — Tell me, Ira, are you really visiting me just for the apartment?
— What nonsense! — Irina flared up. — Have you lost your mind in old age? I love you, that’s why I care!
— Then why do you only call but never come? Natasha said you live very close.
— What does she have to do with it… — Irina stopped herself. — Anyway, Mom, you need to decide. Either you do as you promised, or… I don’t know what to think!
— Or what, Ira? — Galina Ivanovna straightened, looking her daughter in the eye. — Finish the sentence.
Irina looked away.
— Or… I’ll stop coming, — she quickly added. — Not because of the apartment, but because you don’t trust me!
Galina Ivanovna silently watched her daughter. How many years had she believed that Irina cared out of love? How many times had she excused her absence, thinking: “It’s far for her to come”? But she lived in the next district and only called for appearances.
— You know, Ira, — Galina Ivanovna finally said, — I never promised you the apartment. Never.
— You did! — Irina snapped.
— No. And you know it, — Galina Ivanovna shook her head. — You must have convinced yourself because you wanted it so much.
— Mom, you’re ungrateful! — Irina yelled. — I do so much for you! And you!
— What do you do, Ira? — Galina Ivanovna asked quietly. — Call twice a week? Send cheap tea? And for that, you want the apartment in the city center?
Irina opened her mouth to argue, but Galina Ivanovna raised her hand:
— I want you to leave. I need to think.
— I’m not going anywhere! — Irina crossed her arms. — This is my home too!
— As long as I live. And this home is mine, — Galina Ivanovna said firmly. — So leave.
Irina looked at her for a long time. Then grabbed her bag and ran out. The door slammed.
Galina Ivanovna slowly sank into the chair. Inside was emptiness and cold. Everything had collapsed. All the faith in her daughter, in her care and love. How could she have been so blind?
An hour later, there was a knock on the door.
Galina Ivanovna jumped. Could Irina have come back? She went to the door and asked:
— Who is it?
— Mom, it’s me, Vitya.
She opened it. Her son stood there — tired, with dark circles under his eyes.
— What happened? — he asked as he entered. — Ira called me. Was yelling about the apartment and you. I didn’t understand anything.
Galina Ivanovna sighed and led her son to the kitchen. They sat at the table, and she told him everything — about her decision to transfer the apartment to Irina, about Natasha’s visit, about today’s scandal.
Viktor listened silently, his jaw muscles twitching.
— Mom, — he finally said, — I didn’t know you wanted to transfer the apartment to Ira. And Natasha didn’t know either.
— I told no one, — Galina Ivanovna nodded.
— But why Ira? — Viktor looked confused. — She’s… — he stopped.
— Finish, son.
— She always did what she wanted, — Viktor shook his head. — Remember when she sold your earrings that were from grandma? Then said they were stolen?
Galina Ivanovna remembered. That and much more. She was just used to turning a blind eye.
— Mom, I don’t want you to think I’m claiming the apartment, — Viktor suddenly said. — Natasha and I will manage ourselves. We have a mortgage, but we’re paying it off.
— I know, — Galina Ivanovna covered his hand with hers. — I’m just hurt that I was so wrong about people.
They talked late into the night. Viktor told how Irina came to them and asked if Mom was going to transfer the apartment. How she bragged to the neighbors that she would soon be the owner of the three-room apartment downtown.
— Did Natasha really decide to come to me herself? — Galina Ivanovna asked.
— Of course, — Viktor smiled. — She loves you. Complains that you don’t pity her, but still loves you.
The next day, Galina Ivanovna went to the notary again. But now she had a different decision.
A week later, there was a knock on the door. Angry Irina stood there.
— I know everything! — she shouted. — You transferred the apartment to Vitya! How could you?!
Galina Ivanovna calmly looked at her daughter:
— I didn’t transfer anything to Vitya. I made a will.
— What will? To whom? — Irina squinted suspiciously.
— To the grandchildren. To Vitya’s children, — Galina Ivanovna answered. — On condition that they take care of me while I live. And if not — the apartment goes to the nursing home.
— What?! — Irina turned red. — And what about me?! I’m your daughter!
— You will get your share, — Galina Ivanovna replied calmly. — Twenty percent. The rest — to the grandchildren and for my care.
— Twenty percent?! — Irina screamed. — This is robbery! I’ll sue! I’ll prove you’re insane!
— You can try, — Galina Ivanovna shrugged. — Just know: I had a psychiatric evaluation. My mind is sound.
Irina stood there with her mouth open.
— You… you planned this on purpose, — she hissed. — You wanted to test me.
— No, Ira. I really wanted to give you the apartment, — Galina Ivanovna sighed. — But you destroyed everything yourself. With your greed and lies.
— I’ll never forgive you for this, — Irina whispered and ran out of the apartment.
Galina Ivanovna slowly sank into her armchair. Her soul was heavy, but at the same time — calm. She finally stopped deceiving herself. Stopped believing in what wasn’t there.
In the evening, Viktor came with Natasha and the grandchildren. They brought pie and fruit. They noisily settled in the kitchen.
— Grandma, is it true that you joined a choir? — asked the eldest grandson.
— True, — Galina Ivanovna smiled. — How do you know?
— Mom said. She says it’s great.
Galina Ivanovna looked at Natasha. She blushed:
— Well, it really is great. A new hobby at your age — that’s wonderful!
They chatted, drank tea, laughed. The grandchildren talked about school, Viktor — about work. Natasha bustled by the stove, cooking dinner.
For the first time in a long while, Galina Ivanovna felt at home. Truly at home, among people who really needed her. Not her apartment, not her money — but herself.
— You know, — she suddenly said, — I think you should all move in with me.
— What? — Viktor raised his head in surprise.
— The apartment is big, there’s enough room for everyone, — Galina Ivanovna glanced around at the quiet family. — And I’m lonely here by myself.
— But… — Viktor began.
— Great idea! — Natasha interrupted him. — We were just thinking about what to do with our one-room apartment. It’s cramped for the kids now.
— It’s decided, — Galina Ivanovna nodded. — Tomorrow we start moving.
She knew Irina would be furious. That she would probably try to contest the will. That many difficult conversations lay ahead.
But now, looking at the happy faces of the grandchildren, at Natasha’s shy smile, at her son’s tearful eyes, she understood: she had finally made the right choice.