Ekaterina Pavlovna put the kettle on and sat down at the table. Her hands were trembling. Today was the fortieth day since Mikhail had passed away. His children were coming. And she didn’t even know how to call them now — stepdaughter and stepson? She had spent only five years with Misha, but for her, those were the happiest years of her life.
The doorbell rang exactly at two. Ekaterina jumped, straightened her sweater, and went to open the door.
“Hello, Katya,” Yulia stood at the threshold with a stone face. Behind her, Alexey lingered.
“Yulya, Lesha, come in.”
They entered without taking off their shoes and immediately went to the kitchen. Ekaterina frowned — Misha always insisted on slippers in the house. But she stayed silent. Not today.
“Tea?”
“No,” Yulia cut her off. She sat at the table and opened her bag. “We don’t have much time. We need to discuss some matters.”
Alexey silently sat next to his sister and nodded.
“What matters?” Ekaterina froze with the cup in her hands.
“Apartment matters,” Yulia pulled out a notebook. “Dad was, of course, a generous man, but we need to decide what to do next.”
“And what’s there to decide?” Ekaterina’s voice grew quieter.
“Katya, you understand,” Alexey spoke for the first time, “this apartment belongs to Dad. He built it all his life, renovated it. It’s our childhood.”
“And?”
“And we want to know your plans,” Yulia tapped a pen on the table. “When do you plan to move out?”
The cup almost slipped from Ekaterina’s hands.
“Move out? Where to?”
“Well, you had your own apartment before Dad?” Yulia spoke as if explaining something obvious to a child.
“I sold it. Misha and I invested the money into repairing this one.”
“That’s a pity. But understand, this is Dad’s apartment. We are his children. And by law…”
“By what law?” Ekaterina felt blood rushing to her face. “I’m his wife!”
“You were his wife,” Yulia corrected. “For five years. And Alexey and I are the children. Thirty and thirty-three years old, respectively.”
Ekaterina looked at Alexey. He was examining his nails.
“Misha would never…”
“Dad was too kind,” Yulia interrupted. “And didn’t always think about the consequences. Okay, we’re giving you some time. A month or two, to sort out your things. Then we’ll decide what to do with the apartment. Most likely, Alexey and I will sell it.”
“Are you out of your minds?” Ekaterina stood up. “This is my home! Misha and I…”
“You and Dad are no longer here,” Yulia cut her off. “There’s you and us. And we have the right to the inheritance.”
Ekaterina stood clutching the back of a chair. What was happening? They decided to throw her out? Right after the funeral?
“The notary will come on Sunday,” Yulia stood up. “We’ll discuss the details officially. And one more thing, Katya… Don’t pretend you didn’t understand where this was headed. Dad died. You’re young; you’ll find a new husband.”
“Yulya!” Ekaterina couldn’t believe her ears.
“What? That’s life. Lesh, let’s go.”
Alexey got up, avoiding Ekaterina’s eyes.
“Bye, Katya. See you Sunday.”
When the door closed behind them, Ekaterina collapsed into a chair. What was that? A nightmare? She looked around the kitchen. They had put up that wallpaper together with Misha. They laughed when she got glue on her nose. And now… now they were simply kicking her out? And where was she supposed to go?
She approached the window. Outside in the yard, Yulia was talking heatedly to her brother, waving her arms. He nodded. They were making plans. For her apartment. For her home.
The phone rang so unexpectedly that Ekaterina jumped.
“Katya, it’s Valya downstairs. How are you? Have they left?”
“They left.”
“And?”
“They want to take the apartment, Val.”
“Those bastards! I knew it! Hold on, I’m coming up!”
Valentina had been sitting in the kitchen for two hours already. Ekaterina told her everything in minute detail and now awaited advice. Or at least comfort.
“No, it just doesn’t compute!” Valya slammed her fist on the table. “Misha just died, and they’re already dividing the skin of an un-killed bear! They call themselves children!”
“I don’t know what to do,” Ekaterina wiped her tears. “Maybe they’re right? I really was only with Misha for five years…”
“Katya, are you crazy? This is your home! You’re Misha’s wife! Officially! And those… those… they have their own families, their own apartments!”
“Yulia said that by law…”
“Law is law, but a will? Did Misha leave one?”
Ekaterina shrugged, confused.
“I don’t know. He never talked about it.”
“Okay!” Valya stood decisively. “Now you stop crying. Go wash your face. Let’s think.”
When Ekaterina returned from the bathroom, Valentina was already typing something on her phone.
“Here’s what, girlfriend. My nephew works at a law firm. I wrote to him, waiting for an answer. Meanwhile, gather all your documents — marriage certificate, apartment papers. Everything you have.”
“They’re in the closet in the study.”
“Then bring them!”
In the following days, Yulia called twice. Both conversations were short and unpleasant.
“Katya, have you started packing? Alexey and I found a realtor; he wants to inspect the apartment.”
“Yulia, I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.”
“Katya, don’t make it complicated. We’ll settle this matter anyway.”
On Saturday, Yulia and Alexey came without warning. They brought a man in a suit.
“Meet Viktor, the realtor,” Yulia entered the apartment without permission. “We’ll look around the rooms, okay?”
“No,” Ekaterina started to get angry. She used to be afraid… “You have no right to walk around my apartment with strangers.”
“Katya, don’t start,” Alexey frowned. “Let’s keep it civil. Everyone knows this is Dad’s apartment.”
“I’m his wife. And I live here.”
“Temporarily,” Yulia smiled at the realtor. “Family matters, you know.”
They went through the entire apartment. Ekaterina followed them like a ghost in her own home. Yulia opened closets, peeked into drawers.
“It clearly needs repairs. The wallpaper is old, the bathroom tiles are cracked.”
“We put up that wallpaper with Misha a year ago!” Ekaterina couldn’t hold back.
“Oh?” Yulia snorted. “Looks like it’s about ten years old to me. Okay, Viktor, what do you think, how much can we get?”
The realtor named a sum. Ekaterina felt dizzy.
“Don’t I need to consent to the sale?”
“That depends on the documents,” the realtor evasively replied.
When they left, Ekaterina called Valya.
“Valya, they came with the realtor. Already discussing the price.”
“Bastards! Don’t worry, Misha would never allow this. Notary tomorrow, right? I’ll come with you.”
“What if they’re right? What if I really have no rights?”
“Do you believe these vultures? Hang in there, Katya. Tomorrow everything will be clear.”
Ekaterina didn’t sleep that night. Snippets of phrases swirled in her head: “Move out,” “Dad’s apartment,” “New husband.” Yulia had always disliked her, but like this… In the morning she struggled to get out of bed. At exactly ten, someone rang the doorbell.
Ekaterina opened the door. Yulia stood with an elderly man in a suit. Alexey lingered behind.
“Hi,” Yulia said dryly. “This is Sergey Ivanovich, the notary. May we come in?”
“Yes, come in,” Ekaterina stepped aside.
“Has Valentina Sergeevna arrived yet?” the notary asked.
“No, do you know her?”
“We agreed to meet here,” he glanced at his watch. “Well, let’s start without her.”
Yulia gave Ekaterina a disapproving look. At that moment Valya came in.
“Hello, everyone!” she strode into the room decisively. “Am I late?”
“No, no, we’re just starting,” the notary pulled out a folder with papers.
Everyone sat at the table. Yulia nervously tapped her nails on the polished surface.
“So,” the notary cleared his throat, “we are gathered here regarding the will of Mikhail Petrovich Sokolov, who died…” — he named the date.
“What will?” Yulia leaned forward. “Dad left nothing!”
“Actually, he did,” the notary adjusted his glasses. “It was made three years ago, at my office.”
“Something’s not right,” Alexey shook his head. “Dad would have told us.”
“Not necessarily,” the notary opened the folder. “May I continue?”
Yulia reluctantly nodded. Ekaterina sat with her hands clenched under the table. Misha left a will? And didn’t tell her?
“I, Sokolov Mikhail Petrovich, of sound mind and memory…” the notary read some formal text. Ekaterina barely listened until she heard her name. “…bequeath all my property, including the three-room apartment at the address… to my wife, Sokolova Ekaterina Pavlovna.”
The room grew as silent as a grave.
“What?!” Yulia almost jumped. “It can’t be!”
“Quite possible,” the notary answered calmly. “The will was made according to all the rules. Here, look yourself.”
He handed over the paper. Yulia grabbed it with trembling hands and scanned it.
“But how… It’s unfair! We are his children!”
“Yul,” Alexey put his hand on his sister’s shoulder, “if Dad decided so…”
“No!” she shook off his hand. “I don’t believe it! She made him do it! She manipulated him for five years!”
“Yulia Mikhailovna,” the notary frowned, “let’s keep calm. Your father decided everything himself. I spoke to him personally.”
“I’ll sue!” Yulia jumped up. “This is… this is just outrage! Dad built that apartment before she was even around!”
“That’s your right,” the notary shrugged. “But I warn you — chances are slim. The will was made perfectly.”
Ekaterina sat stunned as if struck by lightning. Misha thought it through. He protected her.
“Katya,” Valya nudged her. “Why are you silent?”
“I… I didn’t know about the will.”
“Of course, you didn’t!” Yulia snapped venomously. “Otherwise, you’d have been waving it in our faces long ago!”
“Yul!” Alexey got up. “Enough. Let’s go.”
“Where? You’re giving up? That… that inheritance hunter grabbed Dad’s apartment, and you just leave?”
“Yes, I’m leaving. Because Dad decided so. And we must respect that.”
Yulia looked at her brother with fury.
“Traitor!” she grabbed her bag. “This isn’t over yet!”
The door slammed behind her so hard the dishes rattled in the cupboard.
“Sorry,” Alexey shrugged awkwardly. “She’ll cool down.”
“Do you also think I’m… after the inheritance?” Ekaterina asked quietly.
“No,” he shook his head. “Dad was happy with you. I saw that.”
“Thank you, Lesh,” Ekaterina felt tears well up.
Alexey nodded and left too. The notary gathered his papers.
“Ekaterina Pavlovna, here’s a copy of the will. Keep it. And here’s my card — call if you have questions.”
When everyone left, Valya took a bottle of wine from her bag.
“Well, girlfriend, shall we celebrate the victory?”
“Valya, it’s not even ten yet.”
“So what? That’s a reason! I told you Misha wouldn’t abandon you!”
They sat in the kitchen, and Ekaterina still couldn’t believe what had happened.
“You know, I had already come to terms with it. Thought — where would I go, what would I do.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know. Yulia got so angry. Alexey seemed to react okay, but he’s probably hurt too.”
“To hell with them!” Valya waved her hand. “Selfish! You brightened Misha’s last years, and they? They dropped by once a month, always with sour faces.”
“They’re still his children.”
“Yeah, children. Forty-year-old vultures. Misha did the right thing. He wasn’t a fool — he saw what kids he had.”
Valya left after lunch. Ekaterina was alone in the quiet apartment. She slowly walked through all the rooms, as if getting acquainted with them anew. Her home. Now officially hers.
In the evening, Yulia called.
“Are you happy?” her voice sounded dull.
“Yulia, I didn’t know about the will.”
“Of course not. You’re not involved at all, right? Just so happened — poor widow left with the apartment, and the real children — with nothing.”
“You have your own apartments. And I have nothing but this one.”
“Don’t play the victim! How old are you — forty? You’ll find yourself a new sugar daddy with an apartment!”
“Yulia, stop it!”
“No, you stop! Think it’s over? I’ll sue! I’ll prove you manipulated Dad!”
Ekaterina sighed tiredly.
“Do what you want. But Misha decided himself. He owed you nothing.”
“Nice deal!” Tears rang in Yulia’s voice. “Five years of marriage — and a three-room apartment downtown!”
“I loved your father.”
“Yeah, who are you fooling? Everyone knows the truth!”
Yulia hung up. Ekaterina sat with the phone in her hands for a long time. Then she wrote to Alexey: “Lesh, let’s not quarrel. Come visit whenever you want.” No reply.
The following weeks passed quietly. Neither Yulia nor Alexey called or came by. Ekaterina gradually got used to her new life — the life of a lonely woman. She put Misha’s things in the closet, repainted the bedroom walls, bought new curtains.
One day, passing by a pet store, she went inside and came out with a carrier holding a ginger kitten. Misha always wanted a cat, but he was allergic.
“You’ll be Ryzhik,” she told the kitten when they came home. “Your first name isn’t very original, but it’s honest.”
The cat quickly settled in and filled the apartment with his presence. It was less lonely with him.
A couple of months later, Alexey called unexpectedly.
“Katya, how are you?”
“Fine, Lesh. And you?”
“Same. Listen… can I come over? We need to talk.”
He came in the evening, with a cake. He awkwardly shuffled in the hallway.
“Come in,” Ekaterina smiled. “Tea?”
“Yes, please.”
They sat in the kitchen, drinking tea. Alexey stroked Ryzhik and talked about work, about the kids. Then suddenly said:
“Katya, sorry for that circus. And for Yulia. She’s always been… difficult.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. We behaved like… never mind. Dad was right. This is your home.”
Ekaterina smiled and shrugged.
“Thank you, Lesh.”
When he left, she went to the window and looked long at the evening city. Ryzhik rubbed against her legs, demanding attention. The first snow was falling outside. Her first winter without Misha, but in their home. In her home.
“Thank you, Misha,” she whispered. “Thank you for everything.”
Then she turned, picked up the cat, and went to the kitchen to brew fresh tea. Life went on, and now she knew for sure she would manage. With that certainty came calm. And something new — a feeling of strength. She was no longer a victim of circumstances. Now she was the mistress of her life.