— Galka, are you out of your mind? We’ve been married eight years! — Yura looked at his wife in bewilderment as she methodically packed his things into a duffel bag.
— Exactly! Eight years I’ve put up with your rudeness and your buddies! And now — ENOUGH!
— What rudeness? What are you even talking about?
— About the fact that an hour ago your pal Kostya told me I should get out of my OWN apartment because he and you are going to watch football!
— He made a bad joke, that’s all!
— A BAD JOKE? Was that before or after your Vitya ate the food I’d prepared for a presentation at work? Or after your Lyokha parked his wreck in my spot and mouthed off when I asked him to move it?
There was an impatient knock at the door.
— Yurets, open up! The beer’s getting warm! — Konstantin’s voice rang out.
— Perfect! Go to your Kostya then! Go live with him, since you’re so inseparable!
A month before that blow-up, Galina was sitting in her office going through the quarterly report. As CFO of a construction company, the job demanded everything she had, but she handled it brilliantly. The phone on her desk buzzed — a message from her husband: “The guys are coming over today, don’t cook dinner, we’ll order pizza.”
Galina rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The guys” — that was sacred. Every Friday, and sometimes more often, the apartment turned into a men’s club. Konstantin, Vitaly, Alexei — Yura’s childhood trio who acted like they were still eighteen, not thirty-five.
When she got home around nine in the evening, Galina could hear loud laughter and clinking bottles from the stairwell. The usual chaos reigned inside: pizza boxes piled on the table, beer cans, cigarette butts stubbed out in saucers pressed into service as ashtrays.
— Oh, Galka’s here! — Kostya announced from where he sprawled on the couch. — Hey, bring us some more beer from the fridge, will ya?
— Konstantin, the kitchen is three meters away from you, — Galina replied calmly, taking off her coat.
— Come on! You’re walking past it anyway!
— I’m going to the bedroom. To change and rest after work.
— That’s the spirit! — Vitaly chimed in. — No need for women at a guys’ hangout!
Yura laughed along with his friends, without even thinking to stand up for his wife.
— Galin, can I put Kostya up for a couple of days? — Yura asked a week later at breakfast. — He had a falling-out with his wife, nowhere to stay.
— “A couple of days” means exactly how many?
— Well, three or four days max.
— Yura, we have a two-room apartment. Where’s he going to sleep?
— On the couch in the living room. He’s not picky.
— Fine. Three days. NO MORE.
— Thanks, honey! I knew you’d understand!
Konstantin showed up that very evening with a huge duffel, clearly counting on a longer stay.
— Hi there, missus! — he greeted her familiarly, walking in without an invitation. — Where can I set up?
— The living room couch folds out, — Galina answered coolly.
— And where’s the shower? Got anything to eat?
— Second door down the hall for the shower; we have dinner at eight.
— At eight? That’s early! I’m used to eating around ten or eleven. And I’m on a special diet — no veggies, only meat and potatoes.
— Kostya, this isn’t a restaurant. You’ll eat what’s been cooked.
— Yurets! — the guest protested. — Your wife doesn’t know the first thing about hospitality!
— Gal, come on. The guy’s in a tough spot, we can bend a little.
Three days turned into a week, a week into two. Kostya made himself at home: left his stuff everywhere, left dirty dishes, smoked on the balcony despite the ban, and constantly brought friends over.
— Kostya, your three days ended ten days ago, — Galina reminded him one morning, finding him eating the last yogurt — her breakfast.
— Relax! Yurets said I can stay as long as I need. Right, bro?
— Well… yeah, I said we’d help him through a rough patch, — Yura confirmed uncertainly.
— A rough patch? — Galina turned to her husband. — Is that what you call him bringing some girl over yesterday and “having fun” in the living room until three in the morning?
— Not “some girl,” Alena! — Kostya objected, offended. — Great chick, by the way!
— DON’T you dare talk like that in my house!
— Your house? — Kostya burst out laughing. — This is Yura’s house! He’s the man here!
— Actually, the apartment is in my name. I bought it.
— So what? You’re married, so it’s joint property!
— NO. Bought BEFORE the marriage. With MY money. It’s MY apartment.
— Yurets, you hearing this? Your woman’s totally lost her bearings!
Yura kept silent, staring at his plate.
— Hey, Vit? Come over, let’s hang! — Kostya phoned openly from the apartment. — Don’t worry, Galka’s at work and Yurets doesn’t mind!
By evening the place had turned into a men’s club again. Vitaly and Alexei made themselves at home, turned the music up, and ordered delivery.
— Guys, let’s invite some girls? — Alexei suggested. — I know a couple of fun ones!
— Let’s do it! — Kostya agreed. — Yurets, you don’t mind?
— Well… Galia might get upset…
— Oh please! Who’s the boss of the house? Show some backbone!
When Galina came home at ten, the apartment was unrecognizable. In clouds of cigarette smoke two heavily made-up girls sat on the couch, giggling and drinking wine straight from the bottle. Wrappers, cans, and butts littered the floor.
— What is going on here? — she asked in an icy tone.
— Oh, the wife’s here! Party’s over! — Vitaly sighed theatrically.
— Gal, don’t blow up! — Yura tried to hug her; she pulled away. — We’re just relaxing!
— In MY apartment? With THESE… ladies?
— Hey, watch it! — one of the girls protested. — We’re decent girls!
— OUT! All of you OUT! NOW!
— Galka, what’s your problem? — Kostya was surprised. — We just got started!
— OUT, I said! Or I’m calling security!
— What security? — Alexei laughed.
— The local officer! And I’ll file a complaint for unlawful entry!
— Yura, calm your hysterical woman down! — Kostya snapped.
— Gal, take it easy… Guys, let’s call it a night, it’s late anyway…
The guests started getting their things together reluctantly, grumbling about the hostess’s “weird” behavior.
— Yura, this is the LAST warning, — Galina said when they were alone. — Either Kostya moves out TOMORROW, or both of you do.
— Galya, why so harsh? He’s a friend!
— A friend who’s turned my home into a DEN! Who’s rude to me in MY OWN apartment!
— Don’t exaggerate!
— I’m exaggerating? Fine, then tell me — who pays the utilities? Who buys the groceries your friends devour? Who cleans up their pigsty?
— We could chip in…
— We COULD? We’ve been married EIGHT years and you’ve NEVER even paid the internet bill!
— I… I have expenses…
— What expenses? Beer with the guys? Computer games? You work in sales, you make a decent salary, and you blow it all God knows where!
— It’s my money!
— Exactly! YOUR money! And the apartment is MINE! So choose — either Kostya leaves, or you BOTH do!
In the morning Galina woke up to the smell of burnt eggs and loud swearing from the kitchen. Kostya had tried to make breakfast and managed to ruin a frying pan.
— Yurets! Where’s your decent cookware? This junk is useless!
— That pan costs fifteen thousand rubles, — Galina said coldly, walking in. — Nonstick coating, which you just destroyed with a metal spatula.
— Big deal, a frying pan! You’ll buy a new one!
— NO. YOU’LL buy a new one. Right now.
— Why would I?
— Because YOU RUINED it!
— Yura, your wife’s gotten real uppity! — Kostya fumed.
Yura appeared in the doorway, sleepy and disheveled:
— What’s all the yelling this early?
— Your FRIEND destroyed a pan and refuses to pay for it!
— Gal, it’s just a pan…
— Fifteen thousand rubles is “just a pan”?
— HOW MUCH?! — Kostya jumped. — For a pan?
— For a GOOD pan. Which I bought with MY OWN money for MY kitchen!
— You’re a big spender, huh! — Kostya whistled. — Yurets, how do you put up with this?
— A man shouldn’t be dealing with women’s chores! — Kostya declared.
— Wonderful! Then GET OUT of my “women’s” domain! TODAY!
— Yura! — Kostya turned to his friend. — You hearing this?
— Gal, maybe let’s not fight…
— We’re ALREADY fighting! Konstantin, you have THREE hours to pack!
But Kostya had no intention of moving out. By lunchtime he’d brought Vitaly and Alexei “for support.”
— Galka, you have no right to kick a person out onto the street! — Vitaly proclaimed, lounging in an armchair.
— This is private property. I HAVE THE RIGHT to decide who is here.
— But Yura’s your husband! He also has the right to invite guests!
— Guests, yes. Not TENANTS!
— We talked it over, — Alexei cut in. — And we decided you’re acting irrationally. Maybe you should see a psychologist?
— WHAT? You DECIDED?
— Yeah, — Kostya nodded. — Yura’s our friend, we worry about him. A wife should support her husband, not throw tantrums!
— Where’s Yura?
— At work, — Vitaly replied. — But he knows about this conversation.
— So my HUSBAND sent his buddies to TEACH me how to live in MY house?
— Not teach — bring you to your senses! — Kostya corrected. — You’ve really let yourself go! No respect for your man, throwing out his guests!
— And you figured you’d hold a council? — Galina pulled out her phone. — Excellent! Then I’ll call some REAL professionals!
— Who? — Alexei asked warily.
— A security company. I’ve got an emergency response contract. You can hash out your “rights” with them!
— You’re bluffing! — Kostya smirked.
Galina dialed:
— Hello, Galina Voronova, contract 31847. I need a rapid response team immediately. You have the address. There are uninvited guests in my apartment refusing to leave… Yes, I’ll wait.
— You’re serious? — Vitaly turned pale.
— DEAD serious. You’ve got fifteen minutes.
The friends cleared out in ten, taking some of Kostya’s things with them. Kostya left last, promising to “talk to Yurka.”
By evening a wound-up Yura showed up:
— Galina, ARE YOU CRAZY? Calling security on my friends?
— On YOUR friends who decided they can tell me how to live in MY home!
— They meant well!
— For whose good? Theirs?
— Galya, this isn’t what we agreed on! When we got married, you knew I had friends!
— Friends are people who visit and then leave! Not those who live for weeks, mouth off, and hold “disciplinary talks”!
— Kostya just got carried away…
— Kostya is a freeloader and a boor! And if you can’t see that — that’s YOUR problem!
— He’s my best friend!
— Then GO LIVE with him!
— What’s that supposed to mean?
— It means choose! Either you’re a husband who respects his wife and her right to her own home, or you’re a “bro” who cares more about what his buddies think!
— You’re giving me ultimatums?
— I’m setting RULES in MY house! Don’t like it — the door is RIGHT THERE!
The next two days passed in tense silence. Yura ostentatiously refused to talk to his wife, slept on the couch, left early, and got home late.
On the third day Galina came back from work and found… Kostya, Vitaly, Alexei, and three unfamiliar men in the apartment. They were sitting at the table, playing cards, drinking beer, and smoking right in the room.
— What is going on here? — Galina’s voice trembled with restrained anger.
— Oh, the wife’s here! — Kostya didn’t even look up from his cards. — Yurets said we could hang here. He’ll be along soon.
— Yura has NO RIGHT to invite guests without my consent!
— Oh, come on! — one stranger waved her off. — Don’t bother the guys when they’re relaxing!
— This is MY home! EVERYONE OUT!
— Listen, lady, — another stranger stood up. — Yurka said it’s fine. So get out of here and don’t get in the way.
Galina took out her phone and started recording video:
— October twenty-third, eighteen forty. There are unauthorized persons in my apartment refusing to leave the premises. I’m documenting this for the police.
— What are you doing? — Vitaly was alarmed.
— Gathering evidence for a report of unlawful entry into a dwelling. Article 139 of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation.
— Yura’s your husband! — Kostya protested.
— Yura is NOT the owner! The apartment is in MY name! Here are the documents! — Galina pulled a copy of the ownership certificate from her bag.
— But you’re married! — one of the strangers still didn’t get it.
— So what? The apartment was bought BEFORE the marriage! With MY money! From the sale of MY previous apartment and my grandmother’s inheritance! It’s MY personal property!
Just then Yura appeared with bags of snacks:
— Oh, everyone’s here! Now we—
— Yuri! — Galina said in an icy tone. — What is the meaning of this?
— Well… the guys dropped by… to hang out…
— After I CLEARLY said — no gatherings in my apartment?
— Galya, don’t start in front of people…
— In front of WHICH people? The ones I DON’T WANT to see here?
— You’ve really lost it! — Yura exploded. — This is MY home too!
— NO! — Galina pulled out her phone. — Hello, Irina? Hi, it’s Galina Voronova. I urgently need a consult on housing law… Yes, right now… The situation is critical.
— Who are you calling? — Yura tensed.
— A lawyer. I want to clarify the procedure for evicting an ex-husband from MY apartment.
— Ex-husband?!
— Did you think I’d put up with disrespect and rudeness forever? I sold EVERYTHING I had and bought this apartment! And what did YOU buy? What have you put into our home in eight years?
— I… I…
— You put in NOTHING! Not a kopeck! You rarely even paid for groceries! But your buddies feel like they own the place!
— Galka, maybe let’s talk calmly? — Kostya tried to step in.
— NO! Talking time is over! EVERYONE OUT! You have FIVE minutes!
The guests scurried out, sensing the joke was over. Only Yura and Kostya remained.
— Gal, let’s discuss—
— Nothing to discuss. Tomorrow I’m filing for DIVORCE. And for eviction.
— You can’t evict me! I’m registered here!
— Temporary registration. It expires in a month. I won’t renew it.
— Galka, think this through! — Kostya pleaded. — Yurets is a good guy…
— For YOU he is. For me he’s a DOORMAT who can’t stand up for his family! Who lets his friends HUMILIATE his wife!
— I didn’t allow—
— NO? Who kept quiet when your pals called me hysterical? Who didn’t defend me when Kostya said I should wait on the guests?
— They were joking…
— I’m NOT laughing! Pack your things. BOTH of you!
— Galina, reconsider! — Yura begged. — We’ve been together eight years!
— For eight years I’ve supported you and your crew! ENOUGH!
She went to the bedroom and started packing her husband’s things into bags.
— You’ll regret this! — Kostya shouted.
— The only thing I regret is not doing it sooner!
An hour later the apartment was empty. Yura left for Kostya’s, taking the bare essentials. Galina changed the locks — she had wisely prepared them in advance.
The next days were the calmest she’d had in years. No drunken hangouts, no rudeness, no uninvited guests.
On the third day Svetlana, a colleague, called:
— Galya, is it true you kicked Yura out?
— It’s true. And I don’t regret it.
— But… the family… eight years…
— Svetlana, what kind of “family” is it when a husband lets his friends be rude to his wife? Where the wife is free house staff?
— Maybe you overreacted?
— No. I finally sobered up.
A week later Yura tried to come back. He arrived with flowers and a contrite look.
— Galochka, forgive me! I was wrong!
— Too late, Yura. The divorce papers are already in court.
— But I understand my mistakes now! Kostya… he really crossed the line…
— Crossed the line? He behaved like he owned MY home!
— I won’t see him anymore!
— You’re lying. In a week everything will be back to the way it was.
— Galya, give me a chance!
— You HAD chances. Eight years of chances. LEAVE.
— I’ll fight for our marriage!
— Fight. Just not here.
Another week later Konstantin called:
— Galina, we need to talk.
— We have nothing to talk about.
— We do. Yurka’s completely fallen apart. He drinks every day, skips work.
— That’s his choice.
— You ruined his life!
— Me? Was I the one who made him choose between his wife and his bros?
— We just wanted to be friends, as families!
— Kostya, you have a STRANGE idea of friendship. Friends don’t insult, don’t sponge off others, and don’t meddle in someone else’s family.
— Yurka will lose his job because of you!
— Because of HIMSELF. Because of his irresponsibility. And because of YOU!
— You’re heartless!
— No. I just won’t let myself be used anymore. All the best.
A month later the divorce hearing took place. Yura tried to claim a share of the apartment, but Galina’s attorney submitted all the documents: the apartment was purchased before marriage with Galina’s personal funds, there was no prenuptial agreement, and there was no jointly acquired property.
— But I lived there for eight years! — Yura protested.
— Residence does not grant ownership rights, — the judge explained calmly. — The apartment remains the property of Galina Sergeyevna.
After court Yura tried to talk:
— Galya, you’re throwing me out on the street!
— No. You threw yourself out when you chose your buddies over your family.
— Where am I supposed to live?
— That’s no longer my problem. You have Kostya, Vitaly, Alexei. Let them help.
Konstantin turned out not to be such a hospitable host. A week later, with Yura still living on his couch, the friend started hinting:
— Yurets, you do realize my Larisa is coming back from her business trip soon? She, uh, doesn’t exactly know you’re staying here.
— Kostya, just a couple more days! I’ll chip in for groceries!
— It’s not about the money, bro. It’s just… awkward.
And when Larisa did come back and found a strange man on her couch, the conversation was short:
— Konstantin, either he leaves right now, or you do. With all your buddies. For good.
— Larisa, he’s my friend! He has nowhere to go!
— I don’t care. I’m not supporting strangers.
Yura packed in half an hour.
Alexei welcomed him more warmly:
— Of course, Yurka, make yourself at home! I’ve only got a studio, but we’ll manage!
Three days went fine. On the fourth, Yura brought Kostya and Vitaly over — just to hang, drink beer, reminisce.
— Guys, keep it down! — Alexei was nervous. — The neighbors are already banging on the wall!
— Relax! — Kostya waved him off. — You only live once!
In the morning the district officer called Alexei — the neighbors had filed a complaint for noise and disturbance.
— Yura, — he said wearily. — Sorry, but you’ll have to move out. I don’t need this trouble. I’ve got a mortgage, a job, and my wife is threatening to leave if I don’t put an end to these hangouts.
— Lyokha, where am I supposed to go?
— I don’t know, man. Just not here.
Vitaly was the last hope. He lived in a three-room apartment with his wife Olga; they had no kids.
— Fine, — Vitaly agreed reluctantly. — But only for a few days. And Olga mustn’t find out!
— What do you mean, mustn’t find out? — Yura was surprised.
— We’ll say you just dropped by. And you’ll stay over when she’s asleep.
The plan failed on day one. Olga came home early and found Yura in the kitchen.
— Vitaly! — her shout echoed through the apartment. — What is the meaning of this?
— Ol, he’s just here temporarily…
— TEMPORARILY? Like that story with Kostya at your friend Yura’s place? Who then didn’t move out for two months?
— This is different…
— Nothing is different! — Olga turned to Yura. — Pack your things. Immediately.
— But…
— No “buts”! OUT! And you — she glared at her husband — are never, do you hear me, NEVER to bring your bros here again! Or you’ll be the one looking for a place to live!
Yura rented corners from a distant relative and worked two jobs to pay for lodging. Every week he called Galina, begged forgiveness, promised to change.
— Galya, I get it now! Friends aren’t what matters! Family is what matters!
— Yura, STOP CALLING.
— But I love you!
— You loved convenience. Free housing, ready-made meals, zero responsibility.
— No! I really—
— Yura, the man I once loved disappeared many years ago. You became someone I don’t even recognize. Goodbye.
Konstantin started having serious problems. After watching the whole saga with Galina, Larisa took a hard look at her own marriage.
— Konstantin, and what exactly do you do besides hanging out at your friends’?
— Larisa, come on, not this again.
— Again? This has been going on for years! I work, pay for the apartment, cook, clean. And you?
— I work too!
— And where does your money go? Beer with the guys? Cigarettes?
— So you’ve decided to kick me out too? — Kostya asked darkly.
— No. I’ve decided to leave myself. Live however you want. Alone.
A month later Larisa filed for divorce and moved in with her mother. The apartment was hers — inherited from her grandmother. Konstantin found himself on the street.
Alexei, having learned a harsh lesson, became a different man. His wife Marina had long complained about his buddies, but he’d brushed it off. Now, seeing the sad fate of Yura and Kostya, he quieted down.
— Marish, I won’t invite them home anymore.
— Seriously? — his wife asked skeptically.
— Absolutely. If I want to see my friends, I’ll go to a café. Or to them. But home — that’s our place, yours and mine.
— Alyosha… — Marina hugged her husband. — Thank you.
Vitaly banned his friends from calling his home at all.
— Vitia, maybe we can go out sometime? — Kostya phoned once.
— No. I’m busy.
— Tomorrow?
— Also no.
— Yurka says you never show up anywhere!
— He’s right. I’ve got a wife. A home. A job. No time for your hangouts.
— What’s gotten into you?
— Nothing. For once everything’s fine. Olga’s happy, I’m calm. I’m not risking it.
And Galina lived her life. She renovated the apartment — she’d wanted to for a long time, but Yura always said “why waste the money.” She enrolled in Italian classes. She went to Italy — alone, and it was wonderful.
At work she got a promotion. She adopted a cat — a mischievous ginger named Fira. In the evenings she read, watched films, met up with friends.
Sometimes she thought of Yura, but without regret. Only with relief — the way you remember the lifting of a heavy burden.
She forgot her ex-husband quickly. She’d spent too many years on him to waste even another minute.
And life finally became truly her own. And it was happiness — simple, real, and well-earned.