Lyudmila straightened the folds on her blue dress. Today they were celebrating her mother-in-law’s birthday. All the relatives had gathered in Tamara Ivanovna’s apartment.
“Lyuda, come to the table,” her mother-in-law greeted her with an icy smile. “Valera is already here.”
At the festive table sat Oksana with her husband, Uncle Grisha, and Aunt Nina. Lyudmila took a seat next to Valery. Her husband lightly squeezed her hand under the table.
“And here’s our modest daughter-in-law,” Aunt Nina said, eyeing Lyudmila’s simple dress. “Still as neat as ever.”
Oksana put down her fork and looked at the gold earrings in Lyudmila’s ears.
“Pretty jewelry. Did Valera give them to you?”
“No, they’re my mother’s,” Lyudmila replied softly.
“I see,” Oksana drawled. “And Svetka Morozova’s husband bought her a whole set for their anniversary. Gold with diamonds.”
Valery continued silently eating his salad. Lyudmila clenched the napkin in her hand.
“Svetka made a good marriage,” Tamara Ivanovna joined the conversation. “Her husband is a company director, built their own house.”
“And they bought a new car too,” Oksana added. “A foreign one, not our old junk.”
Lyudmila lowered her eyes to her plate. In three years of marriage, she had grown used to such dinners. Valery’s relatives never missed a chance to point out her modest status.
“And when will you buy an apartment?” Uncle Grisha asked, pouring himself compote. “Young people, and you’re still renting.”
“We’re saving little by little,” Valery answered shortly.
“Little by little means you can save for years,” Aunt Nina remarked. “The neighbor’s daughter and her husband took a two-room place on mortgage right away.”
Lyudmila raised her eyes to her husband. Valery was busily cutting his meat.
“Her father’s in business,” Oksana explained. “He paid the down payment and helped with the paperwork.”
“And what can you expect here?” Tamara Ivanovna spread her hands. “Lyuda came into the family empty-handed. No apartment, no car, no decent dowry.”
The room filled with heavy silence. Lyudmila swallowed a lump in her throat.
“Mom, don’t,” Valery said quietly.
“Don’t what?” his mother flared up. “Can’t I tell the truth? Three years have passed, and you live like students!”
Oksana shook her head.
“Valera could have found a more advantageous match. Plenty of good girls among his acquaintances.”
“Enough,” Valery said sharply.
“You’re raising your voice to your mother?” Tamara Ivanovna protested. “And for whom? For the one who can’t even cook borscht properly?”
Lyudmila rose from the table. Her legs barely held her.
“Excuse me, I need some air,” she whispered.
On the stair landing it was cool. The summer evening drifted in through the open window. Lyudmila leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
“Lyuda,” her husband’s voice called.
“There’s no need to say anything,” she replied wearily.
“Mother doesn’t mean harm. She just worries about us.”
“Worries?” Lyudmila turned to him. “She humiliates your wife in front of everyone!”
Valery rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Let’s go back. Mom made cake.”
Lyudmila looked at her husband for a long moment. In three years, he had never once defended her. He always found excuses for his relatives.
“Of course we’ll go back,” she said quietly. “We can’t upset your mother on her birthday.”
They returned to the apartment, where conversations about other people’s successes went on. Tamara Ivanovna was cutting the festive cake.
“And here are our lovebirds,” she said with a smile. “I hope to see grandchildren once the young couple finally get on their feet.”
Lyudmila sat back at the table and ate her cake in silence. The rest of the evening passed in strained talk. On the way home, they rode in silence.
A week after her mother-in-law’s birthday, Lyudmila sat at work sorting invoices. The phone suddenly rang. Her mother’s number.
“Lyudochka,” her mother’s voice trembled. “Grandma… she passed away this morning.”
Lyudmila dropped her pen. Colleagues in nearby offices kept working, unaware of her grief.
“What? Mom, how?”
“The neighbor found her. The doctor said — her heart. She went in her sleep, without suffering.”
Lyudmila closed her eyes. Grandma had always been her support, the only one who never judged her.
“Lyudochka, there’s more news,” her mother paused. “Grandma left you her apartment. A three-room one.”
The world seemed to stop. Lyudmila sat with the phone at her ear, unable to believe what she’d heard.
“To me?”
“To you, dear. And your father and I decided — we’ll pay for the renovations completely. It’s our gift to you.”
Lyudmila put down the phone and sat motionless for a long time. Grandma’s three-room apartment in a residential district. Her own home. After three years of humiliation from her husband’s family.
That evening at home she told Valery the news.
“Can you imagine, we’ll have our own apartment,” she said, looking at her husband.
Valery hugged her and smiled.
“Sad about Grandma, of course. But the apartment — that’s great. Finally, no more renting.”
The next day Tamara Ivanovna called. Her condolences ended quickly, and the conversation shifted to the apartment.
“What’s the layout?” she asked. “Are the rooms big?”
“Separate, and the kitchen’s twelve square meters,” Lyudmila answered.
“Wonderful! Enough room for everyone.”
Lyudmila frowned. There was something odd in her mother-in-law’s tone.
“Everyone? What do you mean, Tamara Ivanovna?”
“Oh, just thinking about the future,” she laughed. “Oksana is suffering, renting a room all alone. Maybe she could move in with you temporarily?”
“We plan to live just the two of us,” Lyudmila said firmly.
“Already becoming stingy?” Tamara Ivanovna was surprised. “Three rooms, and you won’t share?”
Lyudmila gripped the phone tighter.
“The apartment is in my name. I’ll be the one to decide.”
“Our apartment,” her mother-in-law corrected. “Valery is your husband, so the housing is joint.”
That evening Oksana called.
“Congrats on the inheritance,” she began. “Listen, maybe I could move in with you for a while? It’s hard renting alone.”
“Oksana, we want to live by ourselves.”
“What do you mean by yourselves?” the sister-in-law protested. “There are three rooms! Family should help family.”
Then Aunt Elena Petrovna called. She spoke about her son, a student who needed a place for his studies.
“He’s quiet, won’t take up much space. Just a corner for studying.”
“No,” Lyudmila replied curtly.
“Surely you won’t refuse a relative?” the aunt was surprised. “Have you forgotten you’re part of our family now?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Lyudmila said calmly. “I remember every single remark you’ve made.”
By the weekend, the calls became more frequent. Every relative had a reason why they needed a room in her new apartment.
“Living rich now, forgetting everyone?” Uncle Grisha reproached.
“Where were you before?” Lyudmila asked. “When I was humiliated at every family dinner?”
Valery tried to smooth things over, but Lyudmila stood her ground. Only the two of them would live in the apartment. The relatives called her selfish, greedy, forgetful of family values.
“What values?” Lyudmila replied. “The ones that let you treat me as inferior for three years?”
The three-room apartment truly changed everything. Just not in the way Lyudmila had dreamed.
That weekend, Lyudmila and Valery went to friends’ dacha. They spent two quiet days. Lyuda was far from family quarrels. Valery barely spoke, only occasionally nodding to questions.
On Sunday evening they came home. Lyudmila took out her keys and opened the door. In the hallway were strange shoes and unfamiliar coats.
“How did you get into my apartment?” Lyudmila cried when she saw Valery’s uncle, Sergey Nikolaevich, with his wife, Elena Petrovna, in the living room.
Their student son came out of the bedroom with a towel in his hands.
“Hi, Lyuda,” Sergey Nikolaevich greeted calmly. “Don’t worry, it’s temporary.”
“Temporary?!” Lyudmila’s voice shook with fury. “Who allowed this?”
Elena Petrovna stood from the couch and adjusted her robe.
“Valera gave us the keys,” she explained unperturbed. “He’s good, agreed to help us.”
Lyudmila turned to her husband. Valery stood by the door in silence.
“Is this true?” she asked quietly.
“Lyuda, they only asked for a couple of weeks,” Valery began. “Until they find a rental.”
“Without my consent?” Lyudmila stepped closer to her husband. “You gave them keys to my apartment?”
Sergey Nikolaevich butted in.
“What’s with the hysteria? We made an arrangement with Valery like civilized people.”
“An arrangement?” Lyudmila turned to him sharply. “And you didn’t think to ask me?”
Elena Petrovna pursed her lips.
“Exactly the kind of behavior we expected from you,” she said coldly. “Finally showing your true colors.”
“My true colors?” Lyudmila shouted. “And you certainly haven’t hidden yours these past three years!”
“We always treated you warmly,” Elena’s son defended.
“Warmly? Constantly reminding me of my poverty?” Lyudmila snapped.
“Stop making scenes,” Elena sighed. “We’ve already unpacked, settled in.”
“Exactly! Without the owner’s permission!”
Lyudmila looked around at the strangers’ belongings. In her bedroom hung women’s clothes. In the kitchen sat unfamiliar dishes. She turned to her husband.
“Valery, tell them this is a mistake.”
Valery lowered his head and kept silent. That silence was enough for Lyudmila’s final decision.
“Pack your things and leave,” she said firmly to the relatives. “Immediately.”
Sergey Nikolaevich protested:
“What do you mean? We’re already settled.”
“I don’t care. This is my apartment, and I decide who lives here.”
Elena went up to Valery.
“Valera, will you really let your wife treat your family this way?”
Valery looked at his wife, then at his aunt.
“Maybe we could find a compromise?” he suggested hesitantly.
“No compromises!” Lyudmila cut him off. “Valera, choose between me and your family.”
“That’s not right,” her husband began. “They’re family.”
“And what am I? A stranger to you?” she asked.
Valery said nothing. And that was answer enough. Lyudmila went to the door and flung it open wide.
“Everyone out of my apartment!” she shouted. “You too, Valery!”
“Lyuda, don’t get carried away,” her husband tried to calm her.
“Oh really?” she gave a bitter laugh. “I endured your family’s humiliation for three years, and now betrayal too.”
The relatives slowly began gathering their things. Sergey muttered about ingratitude, Elena sighed theatrically.
“Valery, take your things and go to your mother’s,” Lyudmila said. “Tomorrow I’ll file for divorce.”
Her husband looked at her in fear.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Lyudmila answered and slammed the door behind the last of them.
The apartment fell silent. Almost immediately the phone began ringing — first the mother-in-law, then Oksana. Lyudmila muted it and sank onto the couch.
Ahead lay divorce, courts, loneliness. But she could breathe freely in her own home.