A two-story brick house on Sadovaya Street came to Irina from her aunt, Margarita Petrovna, under a deed of gift even before she married. A six-hundred-square-meter plot, fruit trees in the yard, a private well, a garage—true wealth for a twenty-seven-year-old woman. The papers were executed with a notary in the spring of last year; six months later Irina took title and moved from a rented apartment into a home of her own.
Her aunt left her not only the property but also a wise piece of advice: guard what you have, and never let others decide for you. Margarita Petrovna had lived alone all her life, worked as a chief accountant at a factory, saved a respectable sum, and bought this house in the turbulent nineties, when prices were laughably low. She had few relatives and loved Irina especially—for her frankness, honesty, and independent spirit.
The first months in her own home brought Irina real joy. In the mornings she drank coffee on the veranda, listening to birds singing in the garden. In the evenings she read in the large living room by the fireplace. She spent weekends fixing the place up: she painted the fence, planted roses along the path, and re-papered the bedroom. Little by little, the house turned into a cozy nest that reflected its owner’s taste.
At the travel agency where she worked, her colleagues envied her. Owning a home within the city limits was many people’s dream. Apartments in new buildings cost a fortune, and the old housing stock required major repairs. Irina, meanwhile, had received a move-in-ready home with modern utilities—kept up to date and in excellent condition by her aunt.
Alexey appeared in Irina’s life on a cool September evening. A tall thirty-year-old man with confident manners and expansive gestures, he immediately drew attention. He worked as a sales manager at a large company, talked about big plans, drove an expensive car, and brought flowers for no reason. He courted her grandly—restaurants, theaters, trips out of town.
Irina wasn’t in a hurry for a serious relationship, but Alexey was persistent. He spoke of his dream to start a family, find a life partner, build a future together. He said all the right words, showed care, and paid attention to little things. Gradually, the young woman’s mistrust melted.
That Alexey rented a one-room apartment in a bedroom district and had substantial loan debts Irina learned only after a few months of dating. He had carefully concealed his financial problems, always found money for dates, and never complained about difficulties. He created the impression of a successful man who simply hadn’t yet had time to buy a place of his own.
By New Year’s their relationship had become serious. Alexey often spent the night at Irina’s house, helped around the place, and showed himself to be handy. He fixed the kitchen faucet, changed light bulbs, and drove groceries home from the store. Irina appreciated a man’s help but understood clearly: the house remained her personal property.
The proposal came in February during a romantic candlelit dinner. Alexey presented a small ring and delivered a beautiful speech about love, fidelity, and shared happiness. Irina said yes, but warned that they shouldn’t rush the wedding—they needed to get to know each other better.
They had a modest wedding in June, in a small circle. They signed at the registry office and celebrated in a little café with relatives and close friends. Irina deliberately chose a low-key format—she didn’t like pomp and show. Alexey agreed to all the bride’s conditions—anything to become her husband as soon as possible.
After a honeymoon in Crimea, the young husband officially moved into his wife’s house. He brought a minimum of belongings—several boxes of clothes, some books, a computer. He gave up his apartment and gradually got rid of his debts. Irina rejoiced in their married happiness, but inwardly remained on guard. Alexey’s problems had been solved too quickly; circumstances had fallen together a little too conveniently.
The first weeks of living together went smoothly. Alexey behaved tactfully; he didn’t try to rearrange the household to his own taste and treated his wife’s habits with respect. He helped cook dinner, cleaned the house, tended the garden. It seemed that Aunt Margarita Petrovna had been mistaken when she warned her niece about men with ulterior motives.
But gradually troubling signs appeared. Alexey visited his mother far too often; she lived in the next district. He called the elderly woman every day, discussed family matters, and asked her advice about trifles. At first Irina didn’t attach any importance to it—it’s normal for a son to stay in touch with his parents.
Tamara Ivanovna, Alexey’s sixty-year-old mother, had worked all her life as a kindergarten teacher. After retiring, she lived alone in a two-room apartment, complained about her health, and demanded her son’s constant attention. She took an instant dislike to her daughter-in-law—considered her unworthy of her son, too proud and too self-reliant.
In July, Alexey brought Irina unexpected news:
— Mom isn’t feeling well, and the doctors can’t make a clear diagnosis. Someone needs to be with her. Maybe she could come stay with us for a while?
Irina couldn’t refuse—the health of an elderly person was at stake. She agreed to take in her mother-in-law for the period of tests and treatment. She hoped the guest would stay only a few weeks at most.
Tamara Ivanovna arrived with big bags and suitcases, as if she were planning a long stay. She took the room on the first floor, immediately hung up her own photographs, set out knick-knacks brought from her apartment. Irina shuddered inwardly but kept quiet—she didn’t want to start a conflict over trifles.
That very first evening the mother-in-law made a tour of the entire house, peeking into every room. She pretended she was simply admiring the décor, praising the renovation, and asking about the floor plan. But Irina noticed how carefully the older woman examined the furniture, looked into the closets, and jotted something down in a small notebook.
— What a wonderful house! — Tamara Ivanovna exclaimed. — So much space! So many possibilities!
— My aunt planned everything well, — Irina replied, doing her best to stay friendly.
— And where are the documents for the house kept? — the mother-in-law suddenly asked. — Just in case, you never know…
— In a safe, in a secure place, — the homeowner answered curtly.
After a week in the house, Tamara Ivanovna’s behavior changed. She stopped complaining about her health and became active and energetic. She no longer went to doctors or took medicine. Instead, she constantly discussed something with her son in the kitchen when she thought her daughter-in-law couldn’t hear.
One morning, as she was leaving for work, Irina forgot her phone and came back home. Voices—her mother-in-law’s and her husband’s—were coming from the kitchen. Irina quietly walked down the hall, stopped by the half-open door, and inadvertently overheard their conversation.
— Now the house is a family house, — Tamara Ivanovna was saying. — We can rent out half the rooms and make good money. And turn the other half into my sewing business—set up machines, take orders.
— Mom, but it’s Irina’s house… — Alexey objected uncertainly.
— A family house! — his mother repeated. — Once she’s married, it becomes joint property. We’ll use this house as our springboard!
Irina felt a chill spread inside her. So the illness had been feigned, and the move—an operation planned in advance. Her mother-in-law was already drawing up plans to use someone else’s property, and her son was silently going along with it.
— Let her have a baby as soon as possible, — Tamara Ivanovna continued. — And in the meantime we’ll think what to do with the house. So many square meters going to waste!
Irina stood frozen. Every word from her mother-in-law landed like a blow. The house left to her by her beloved aunt was turning into the object of someone else’s mercenary schemes. She slowly walked into the kitchen without saying a word. Tamara Ivanovna and Alexey fell silent at once.
— Good morning, — Irina said quietly, pouring herself coffee.
— Morning, — the two of them answered in unison, wearing guilty expressions.
The rest of the day the mistress of the house spent in tense reflection. In the evening, when everyone was gathered in the kitchen, Irina took a folder of documents from the home archive. She laid a notarized deed of gift and the certificate of state registration of ownership on the table. The papers lay beside the cups, a mute reminder of how things really stood.
Alexey was silent for a long time, carefully studying the documents. Slowly a realization appeared on his face that the house would never be considered jointly acquired property. The deed of gift had been executed long before the marriage, which meant the real estate would forever remain his wife’s personal property.
— So the house doesn’t get split if we divorce? — Alexey asked uncertainly.
Irina nodded without lifting her eyes from her laptop. She kept working on a report, but she could feel the tense stares of the relatives.
Tamara Ivanovna tried to look innocent:
— What happened? We were just talking, making plans…
— What plans? — Irina asked evenly.
— Oh, just daydreaming a bit. About the future, about family well-being.
The homeowner said nothing. She put the document copies away in the metal safe in the bedroom and deliberately locked it with a key. Tamara Ivanovna watched her daughter-in-law and let out a heavy sigh.
— Well, looks like there’s been a little mistake, — the older woman muttered under her breath. — Marriage doesn’t confer rights to someone else’s property.
Alexey gave his mother a reproachful look but said nothing. Irina returned to the kitchen and silently went on working at her laptop. The atmosphere in the house changed: unspoken grievances hung in the air, making everyone uncomfortable.
After that conversation, Tamara Ivanovna’s manner grew noticeably colder. She stopped asking about her daughter-in-law’s affairs, skipped family dinners, and ostentatiously kept silent while the TV was on. But she clearly had no intention of leaving. On the contrary, she began to settle in more thoroughly—brought additional things from her apartment, took up half the refrigerator, and hung her own towels in the bathroom.
When Irina asked her husband directly about his mother’s plans, Alexey answered evasively. He said the elderly woman had nowhere to go for now, that they needed time to find suitable housing, that they shouldn’t rush decisions. Irina understood perfectly well: “for now” could stretch into months and years. Her mother-in-law was counting on making herself so at home in someone else’s house that it would be hard to evict her.
A week after the memorable evening with the documents, an incident occurred that exhausted Irina’s patience. Coming home early after a client meeting was canceled, the homeowner found her mother-in-law in her private study. Tamara Ivanovna stood by the desk rummaging through the drawers, pulling out folders of papers.
— What are you doing? — Irina asked.
— Oh, I was just looking for scissors, — the older woman muttered, hastily closing the drawer with the documents. — Alexey said I could borrow them.
Her mother-in-law left the study looking contrite, but Irina noticed that the woman was holding papers in her hand, not scissors. It became obvious: Tamara Ivanovna had been searching for additional information about the house—perhaps trying to find documents or certificates that might be useful in future disputes over the property.
Calmly, Irina stepped out of the study, took out her phone, and looked up a legal clinic online. She made an appointment with a family-law specialist for the next day. Not to divide anything, but to officially establish who was living in the house and on what basis.
The consultation with the lawyer put the situation to rest. Elena Andreevna, an experienced attorney, explained all the nuances:
— The house was received under a deed of gift before the marriage, which means it is your separate property. No one has the right to claim the living space or decide how it’s used. Temporary residence by relatives is possible only with the owner’s consent.
— And if they refuse to leave?
— Then you’ll have to go to court to have them evicted. But it’s better to resolve the matter peacefully, giving advance notice of your intentions.
Irina thanked the lawyer and drove home with a clear understanding of her next steps. She had no intention of tolerating other people’s ambitions in her own house any longer.
The following week the mistress of the house made her decision. In the morning, while the others were still asleep, Irina packed Tamara Ivanovna’s things into two large suitcases. She neatly folded the clothes, cosmetics, books, and trinkets. She called a taxi and booked a room for a week at a decent hostel downtown.
When Alexey came home that evening, the suitcases and a slip of paper with the hostel’s address were waiting in the entryway. An unusual silence lay over the house. Tamara Ivanovna sat in the living room looking bewildered, while Irina calmly prepared dinner in the kitchen.
— What’s going on? — her husband asked.
— You and your mother can launch your ventures wherever you like. But my house will remain mine, — Irina answered evenly.
Alexey tried to explain that everyone had misunderstood, that they could find a compromise, that hasty decisions weren’t necessary. But there was unshakable resolve in his wife’s voice.
— The taxi is on its way. The hostel room is paid for a week. In that time your mother can find permanent housing.
— Ira, let’s talk this over…
— There’s nothing to discuss. The decision has been made.
Tamara Ivanovna packed in silence, shooting her daughter-in-law a look full of resentment. Alexey helped his mother carry the suitcases to the car but did not return to the house—he stayed the night at the hostel to help the elderly woman get settled.
The next morning Irina called a locksmith and changed all the locks. She turned the old keys in to the management company and had new ones issued. The house once again belonged only to its lawful owner.
Three days later Alexey tried to come back but found his keys no longer worked. He called his wife, asked to meet, and promised to compromise. Irina listened calmly:
— Has your mother found a place to live?
— For now she’s renting a room from acquaintances…
— Then there’s nothing to talk about.
A month later Irina filed for divorce at the civil registry office. There was no property to divide, the couple had no children, and there were no mutual claims. Alexey did not contest the divorce, realizing there was no chance of reconciliation.
The proceedings went quickly and without complications. The ex-husband didn’t even appear on the appointed date, sending a notarized consent instead. The divorce was finalized with only Irina present.
Several times, Tamara Ivanovna tried to call her former daughter-in-law and left voice messages proposing to meet and discuss everything. Irina neither answered nor called back. As far as she was concerned, communication with her former relatives was over.
Six months have passed since then. Irina lives alone in the house that came from her aunt, Margarita Petrovna. In the mornings she drinks coffee on the veranda; in the evenings she reads by the fireplace in the living room. On weekends she tends the garden, caring for the roses and fruit trees. The house is once again filled with peace and comfort.
Sometimes Irina wonders what might have been if Alexey had turned out to be an honest man and not a hunter of other people’s property. But she has no regrets. The house remained under her control, and no one is making plans for it without the owner’s permission anymore.
At work, colleagues ask whether it’s lonely to live in a big house without a family. Irina replies that solitude is better than insincerity. Only those who truly value a home should live in it—not those who see it as a way to solve their personal problems.
Aunt Margarita Petrovna had been right to warn her about self-interested people. Thanks to her wise advice and properly executed documents, the niece managed to preserve her inheritance and rid herself of those who saw marriage only as an opportunity to profit from someone else’s property.