Natalya looked around the room with pride. The new wallpaper with a delicate pattern and the modern furniture were a pleasure to the eye. The renovation of her own two-room apartment was finally finished.
“Mom, can you believe it? I stayed within the budget!” Natalya reported happily over the phone. “I even have enough left for a small picture in the hallway.”
“Good girl, my dear,” Yelena Petrovna’s voice was warm. “I told you you’d manage.”
Natalya smiled. Two years ago, she had paid off the mortgage on this apartment. The payments had been painful for her budget, but every kopeck had been worth it.
She and Vadim had met at a corporate event for a mutual client. Tall, with an attentive gaze and an unusual sense of humor, he caught her eye right away.
“May I ask you to dance?” Vadim said, holding out his hand.
“How could I refuse such a gallant gentleman?” Natalya laughed and accepted.
Their romance developed quickly. After six months of dating, Vadim proposed.
“Move in with me,” he said one evening. “I have a three-room place—plenty of space. You can rent out your apartment.”
Natalya hesitated.
“What about my renovation? I put so much effort into it!”
Vadim hugged her and kissed the top of her head.
“The rent money can go toward my mortgage. It’s a win, right?”
The argument seemed reasonable. Natalya agreed.
“If you want, we’ll make you your own room,” Vadim suggested. “You can set it up however you like.”
The first months of living together felt like a fairy tale. The wedding was modest but heartfelt. The honeymoon in Turkey was memorable for its warm sea and long walks. Everyday matters were handled easily and without fuss.
The problems began when Vadim’s mother, Tamara Anatolyevna, started coming over too often. At first on weekends, then during the week.
“Vadyusha, I brought your favorite cutlets,” chirped her mother-in-law, breezing into the kitchen without ceremony. “Natashenka won’t mind, will she?”
Natalya tried to be friendly. But Tamara Anatolyevna always found something to criticize.
“My goodness, those cushions are so bright!” she exclaimed when she saw the decorative pillows on the sofa. “In my day we valued calm tones.”
“It’s modern design, Tamara Anatolyevna,” Natalya answered evenly. “They freshen up the interior.”
“What for? They just collect dust,” the mother-in-law sniffed. “And those pictures… Vadik always liked minimalism.”
Soon the mother’s visits were joined by appearances from the father, Nikolai Sergeyevich. He was quieter, but he filled all the space with his presence.
“Vadim, talk to your parents,” Natalya asked one day. “They come without warning. I can’t even eat breakfast in peace.”
Her husband waved her off.
“Oh, come on, they don’t stay long. What, are you stingy?”
“It’s not about being stingy. I feel uncomfortable in my own home.”
“This is my home, by the way,” Vadim replied unexpectedly sharply. “You just moved in here.”
Natalya fell silent, stunned by those words. She had never thought of Vadim’s apartment as “his” territory.
The situation worsened when her husband’s parents began to complain about their housing conditions.
“Can you imagine, in our one-room place even the fridge doesn’t fit properly,” lamented Tamara Anatolyevna. “And it takes two hours to get to the clinic.”
“The stores nearby are all expensive,” added Nikolai Sergeyevich. “And you can’t get to the market at all.”
Vadim listened carefully, nodding. His eyes filled with sympathy.
“Maybe we should look into an exchange?” he suggested one day. “It really is hard for them.”
“An exchange?” Natalya frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, maybe they could move closer,” Vadim answered evasively.
A chill ran down Natalya’s back. She suddenly understood where this conversation was headed. The look with which her mother-in-law sized up the apartment now made sense. It was the appraising gaze of a future mistress of the house.
Vadim’s parents began coming over nearly every day. They complained about their cramped one-room flat and the lack of basic conveniences. With theatrical sighs, Tamara Anatolyevna pressed a hand to her chest.
“Imagine, Vadyusha, yesterday the elevator broke again,” she wailed. “I had to climb to the eighth floor on foot. At my age!”
Nikolai Sergeyevich backed her up:
“The doctor says I need to walk more. But where am I supposed to walk? The park is three kilometers away!”
Natalya clenched her teeth and tried to stay calm. She could see her husband growing more sympathetic toward his parents. His brows knitted; concern etched his face.
“Maybe we could help somehow?” he suggested one evening.
Natalya turned sharply from the stove.
“How exactly?” Her voice was wary.
“I don’t know,” Vadim shrugged. “We’ll think of something together.”
After two weeks of nonstop visits and complaints, Natalya realized she couldn’t take it anymore. Her patience was gone. She called her friend Irina.
“Hey, is your dacha free for the weekend?” Natalya asked. “I urgently need a change of scenery.”
“Of course!” Irina was delighted. “We can get the girls together. Kebabs, the lake—no husbands and no mothers-in-law.”
Natalya exhaled in relief.
“You have no idea how grateful I am.”
On Friday evening, Natalya packed a small bag and kissed her husband.
“I’ll be back on Sunday,” she said. “Try not to miss me too much.”
Vadim hugged her and gave a strange smile.
“Have a great time,” he said. “You really do need a rest.”
The weekend flew by. The friends swam in the lake, grilled kebabs, and chatted until dawn. Natalya’s soul unwound. She didn’t even check her phone, completely disconnecting from everyday worries.
When Natalya opened the apartment door on Sunday evening, she froze on the threshold. The hallway was in chaos. Boxes, bags, and suitcases were everywhere. Her and Vadim’s things were packed and stacked along the wall.
“What the…” she breathed, walking into the living room.
On the coffee table stood a heavy crystal vase. Natalya recognized it at once—it had always stood at her mother-in-law’s place. Confusion turned to alarm. Something was very wrong.
The front door creaked. Natalya turned and saw Vadim. Behind him loomed his parents.
“Natashenka!” cried Tamara Anatolyevna with unusual enthusiasm. “How wonderful that you’re back!”
Nikolai Sergeyevich walked into the room with measured steps and sat in an armchair. He looked as if he were master of the situation.
“What’s going on here?” Natalya’s voice trembled with tension.
“Vadyusha has given us an amazing gift!” the mother-in-law declared rapturously. “Just imagine—he gifted us this apartment!”
Natalya’s gaze shifted from her beaming mother-in-law to her downcast husband.
“What?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Yes, yes!” continued Tamara Anatolyevna. “Now Father and I will live here, in comfort and plenty. In our old age we deserve a bit of coziness, right, Kolya?”
Nikolai Sergeyevich gave an important nod.
Natalya grabbed her husband by the hand and pulled him into the bedroom. Slamming the door, she turned to him.
“Have you lost your mind?” she hissed. “How could you give the apartment to your parents without consulting me?”
Vadim looked guilty but resolute.
“Natalya, try to understand—they really have it hard,” he began to justify himself. “We’re young; it’s easier for us.”
“Easier?” Natalya raised her voice.
“For now we’ll stay in their one-room flat,” Vadim avoided her eyes. “And then we’ll figure something out.”
“Figure something out?” Natalya laughed harshly. “Do you even understand what you’ve done?”
“They’re my parents!” Vadim flared. “I can’t watch them suffer!”
“And I don’t matter to you? So you decided everything for the two of us?”
Vadim tried to hug her, but Natalya pulled away.
“Natalya, let’s be reasonable…”
Suddenly she realized something important. She narrowed her eyes and looked closely at her husband.
“Hold on. You gave the apartment to your parents?” Her voice turned ice-cold. “Then let them pay the mortgage!”
Vadim paled. His mouth fell open, but no words came out.
“What? No, we’ll keep paying the mortgage, of course,” he muttered. “It’s our obligation.”
“Ours?” Natalya clenched her fists. “No, darling. Since you handed over the apartment, I’m moving back into mine. And I won’t put another kopeck into your mortgage!”
Vadim’s face changed. He gripped her shoulders.
“Natalya, don’t be foolish! We still have ten years of payments! Without the rent from your place I won’t manage!”
“That’s your problem,” Natalya cut him off. “And your parents’.”
The door flew open. On the threshold stood Tamara Anatolyevna and Nikolai Sergeyevich.
“What’s all the shouting?” the mother-in-law protested. “What’s going on?”
“Your son just explained your little scheme to me,” Natalya said coolly. “You get the apartment, and I’m supposed to keep paying for it? Excellent plan!”
“Natashenka, don’t be selfish!” cried the mother-in-law, throwing up her hands. “We’re family!”
“No, we’re not,” Natalya walked past her to the boxes with her things. “Family doesn’t do this.”
Vadim rushed toward her.
“Natalya, let’s talk calmly! Everything can be worked out!”
“It’s already worked out,” Natalya grabbed her suitcases. “I’m filing for divorce.”
“You can’t do this to Vadim!” shouted Tamara Anatolyevna. “He’ll be paying that mortgage alone for the rest of his life!”
“You should have thought of that earlier,” Natalya snapped. “When you decided to pull this stunt behind my back.”
Nikolai Sergeyevich seized Natalya by the elbow.
“You can’t treat your husband’s parents like this!” he thundered.
Natalya yanked her arm free.
“Oh, yes I can. And I should—when someone is trying to deceive me.”
She took her suitcases and headed for the door. Vadim darted around the room in despair.
“Natalya, wait! Let’s discuss this!” he shouted. “It’s a misunderstanding!”
Natalya looked back from the threshold.
“Ten years of mortgage payments without my help, Vadim. Think about that.”
She slammed the door and went outside. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop. She hailed a taxi and went to her parents’.
Her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Vadim, her mother-in-law, even her father-in-law tried to get through. Natalya muted the sound. Sitting in the car, she opened the Gosuslugi app and filed for divorce.
Yelena Petrovna greeted her daughter with open arms.
“Mom, I’ve lost everything,” Natalya sobbed.
“You haven’t lost anything,” her mother said firmly. “You’ve shed unnecessary weight.”
A month later, Natalya stood in court, feeling empty. The divorce went surprisingly quickly. Vadim didn’t argue or object. He looked older and worn out.
“You destroyed our family,” hissed Tamara Anatolyevna in the hallway. “You ruined all our lives!”
“No,” Natalya replied calmly. “You destroyed everything yourselves with your greed.”
Leaving the courthouse, Natalya breathed deeply. A weight lifted from her heart. She got into a taxi and gave the address. Her address.
The apartment greeted her with silence and cleanliness. The tenants had moved out a week earlier, and Natalya had managed to put everything in order. She walked slowly through the rooms, touching the walls and furniture.
“Home,” she said softly. “I’m home again.”
She opened the windows, letting in fresh air. Outside, the city hummed—alive, energetic, full of possibilities. Natalya smiled. She had a chance to start over. And this time, she wouldn’t repeat her old mistakes.