Nastya laid out another of Danila’s shirts on the bed and carefully hung it in the wardrobe. He had more clothes than she expected, but there was still enough space.
“Where should I put your books?” Nastya asked, holding a stack of technical literature in her hands.
“On the top shelf, if you don’t mind,” Danila replied, folding his socks into the dresser. “Sunshine, can you imagine how wonderful it is that we’re living together now?”
Nastya smiled and nodded. Just yesterday he had proposed to her, and today they were already arranging their shared home. Three months until the wedding would fly by unnoticed.
“Danichka, don’t you regret that we decided everything so quickly?” Nastya stroked his cheek.
“Not for a second,” Danila wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re the best girl in the world. A beauty like you needs to be cherished and never let go.”
Nastya pressed against him, savoring his warmth. She couldn’t believe her happiness.
Three months later, that day finally arrived. Soft music played, guests danced and laughed. Nastya, in her snow-white gown, twirled with her husband in the center of the hall. Danila whispered compliments in her ear, and she blushed with delight.
“Dear newlyweds!” his mother, Elena Viktorovna, stood with a glass in hand. “I want to say a few warm words about your wonderful couple.”
All the guests quieted and turned their attention to the elegant middle-aged woman.
“Nastenka, my dear, you have given my son true happiness. Danila, my boy, take care of this lovely girl. May your love grow stronger with every day!”
Nastya was touched by such heartfelt words. Her mother-in-law had always been kind and welcoming.
“Thank you so much,” Nastya whispered when Elena Viktorovna came over to congratulate them personally.
“For what, my dear? We’re one family now.”
Three months of married life passed quietly. Nastya still wasn’t used to her new surname on documents and sometimes forgot to respond to it.
The doorbell rang.
“Elena Viktorovna!” Nastya smiled as she opened the door for her mother-in-law. “Come in, we’ve been waiting for you.”
“Nastenka, dear,” her mother-in-law greeted her warmly. “How are you, daughter?”
They went into the kitchen, where Danila was already sitting at the laid-out table. Elena Viktorovna sat beside her son, and they cheerfully began discussing family news.
“How’s work, son?” his mother asked, spooning herself some salad.
“Great, Mom, we just launched a new project,” Danila replied, pouring tea. “And how are you?”
Nastya listened happily to their conversation, glad they were such a close family. But then Elena Viktorovna’s expression grew serious.
“Danila,” she said, setting down her fork. “It’s time to tell Nastya something.”
Nastya’s insides tightened. Danila looked away and nervously rubbed his palms together.
“Nastya, sunshine,” her husband began quietly. “I have a son. He’s nine years old, his name is Artyom.”
Nastya froze. The world around her seemed to stop. Danila kept speaking, but she could barely process his words.
“I was married before, but she left right after the divorce,” his voice trembled. “Artyom has been living with his mother for three years.”
“Nastenka, dear,” Elena Viktorovna interjected gently. “A child is no obstacle to true love. If you really love Danila, this won’t change anything, right?”
Nastya looked at them both, unable to utter a word. Danila had never once mentioned a child. Not once during their entire relationship.
“Nastenka, you’re so pale,” Elena Viktorovna noticed. “Have some water.”
Nastya automatically took the glass. A storm of thoughts spun in her head. Nine years. The child was nine. And Danila had hidden him all this time.
“Artyom is a wonderful boy,” her mother-in-law continued softly. “Smart, well-mannered. You’ll love him, dear.”
Nastya rose from the table. She whispered weakly:
“I need some time to think.”
Danila tried to take her hand, but Nastya pulled away and left the kitchen.
Elena Viktorovna left early. Danila tiptoed around his wife carefully.
For three days, Nastya turned the revelation over in her mind. Danila behaved as if nothing had happened—joking at breakfast, talking about work. But Nastya caught him secretly watching her.
“Danila,” she said one morning, setting down her coffee cup. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her husband smirked and shrugged.
“Not every girl wants a husband with a child from another marriage,” he answered calmly. “Especially one who doesn’t live with his mother.”
Nastya frowned. His indifferent tone cut her deeply.
“But how can there be trust in a family if you hid something so important?”
Danila shrugged again and bit into his sandwich.
“I don’t see the problem. Now you know.”
Nastya looked at him and realized—he truly didn’t see anything wrong with his behavior. That realization shocked her even more than the news about the child itself.
Another three weeks passed. Nastya increasingly found herself looking at her husband differently. The trust built over months had crumbled in an instant. Every word of his now sparked doubt. What else hadn’t he told her?
Danila, meanwhile, lived his usual routine. Work, dinner, television. As if nothing had happened. His indifference to her turmoil hurt Nastya even more.
One evening a heavy downpour drenched her on the way home from the bus stop. Her keys shook in her hand as she opened the lock.
The door swung open, and Nastya froze on the threshold. Boxes. Dozens of boxes of different sizes filled the hallway, some still sealed with tape.
“Danila!” she called, closing the door behind her. “What is all this?”
Her husband emerged from the second bedroom, screwdriver in hand. His hair was messy, his T-shirt covered in dust stains.
“Oh, you’re home,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “How was work?”
“Danila, what’s going on?” Nastya repeated, pointing at the boxes.
He looked at her as if surprised by the question.
“My family is moving in,” he said simply. “Into this apartment. Mom has already packed, and I’m preparing a room for Artyom.”
Nastya stood frozen by the door. Water dripped from her soaked jacket, but she didn’t notice. The world had turned unreal.
“It’s a spacious apartment,” Danila went on as if discussing the weather. “My mom and my son will live here now. Artyom will take the second bedroom, and Mom will stay in the living room. We’ll just need to buy some extra furniture, but it’ll work out.”
Nastya slipped off her wet shoes and walked to the second bedroom. Danila followed her. The room had been completely rearranged. New shelves lined the wall, her desk shoved into a corner, and the bed dismantled and removed.
“Why the sudden move?” she asked, scanning the changes.
Danila smirked and set the screwdriver on the windowsill.
“Mom’s getting older, she can’t handle raising a child alone,” he explained indifferently. “She needs a helper.”
“A helper?” Nastya repeated.
“Yes. You’ll handle the cooking and cleaning, and Mom will watch Artyom,” Danila nodded. “And the boy needs a mother’s help too—you’ll be that for him.”
Nastya spun sharply and marched to the kitchen. Her hands trembled as she poured herself a glass of water. Danila followed and stopped at the doorway.
“Why do you think I want to become a mother to your son?” she asked, setting the glass down.
Danila raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“But he’s my child—ours now, really,” he said as if it were obvious.
Nastya exploded. Weeks of bottled-up feelings burst out.
“I didn’t know about this child!” she cried. “I never agreed to raise some stranger’s boy! I don’t even want my own kids yet—let alone someone else’s!”
Danila tried to interrupt, but Nastya wouldn’t let him speak.
“This apartment is mine, from before the marriage. And without my consent, no one moves in here!”
Danila lost his temper.
“You’re no woman! You have no maternal instinct! A proper wife would support her husband!”
His face twisted with anger. Nastya saw a completely different man before her.
“Then what do I need you for, if you won’t accept my son?” he spat.
Nastya’s eyes opened wide. Danila had deliberately hidden everything just to trap her in marriage. All he needed was a mother for his child and her apartment.
“And what do I need you for?” she asked coldly. “To ruin my life? Get out!”
“You’re insane!” Danila shouted. “We’re husband and wife!”
“We were,” Nastya cut him off. “Get out of my house! Take your boxes and disappear!”
“Nastya, stop!” Danila yelled. “We need to talk calmly!”
“Talk?” Nastya laughed bitterly. “We should have talked before the wedding!”
Soon, Nastya managed to drive the betrayer out of her apartment.
The door slammed shut with a crash. Nastya turned the key and leaned against the door. Her legs gave way, and she slid slowly to the floor.
His shouting and demands echoed from the other side for a long time. Then silence. Nastya stayed on the floor until morning, replaying everything in her head. Danila had used her. Simply used her.
Early the next morning, a locksmith worked in the apartment. Nastya had called him the night before, as soon as Danila left. The man methodically drilled out the old locks and installed new ones.
“Good locks, reliable,” the locksmith explained, showing her the mechanism. “Hard to break.”
The sound of the elevator made Nastya tense. Elena Viktorovna stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers. Seeing what was happening, she froze.
“What on earth is this?” the mother-in-law exploded, dropping the flowers. “Nastya, what are you doing? This is terrible! Danila is your husband! You’re proud and insolent!”
The locksmith quickly gathered his tools and headed to the elevator, clearly not wanting to witness the family quarrel. Nastya took the new set of keys in her hand and calmly turned to Elena Viktorovna.
“Yes, I have pride,” Nastya said, studying the shiny keys. “And I won’t let anyone walk all over me.”
“How can you!” the woman cried on. “You’re destroying a family! And the child? Have you thought of the child?”
“Your son should have thought about the child,” Nastya replied coldly.
She stepped back into her apartment and slammed the door, shutting out not only her mother-in-law’s shouts but all ties with that family.