October leaves drifted slowly outside the window, carpeting the courtyard in yellow. Oksana was setting the table for dinner when a sharp doorbell rang. Roman got up from the couch and went to answer it, calling over his shoulder:
“Probably Galina.”
Her husband’s mother had been showing up more and more often lately—always looking worried, always with some request. Oksana had grown used to these surprise visits, though she would have preferred her mother-in-law call ahead.
Voices sounded in the hallway, but the exchange was brief. Galina walked into the kitchen, barely greeting them. Her face was tightly drawn, dark shadows under her eyes. Hair that was usually neatly styled looked tousled today.
“I need four hundred thousand rubles,” Galina announced right from the doorway. “Immediately.”
Oksana froze with a plate in her hands. She hadn’t expected a conversation to start like that.
“Good evening, Galina Petrovna,” the daughter-in-law said curtly, setting the plate on the table. “Come in, sit down.”
“No time for ceremonies,” the mother-in-law waved her off. “I said what I need. Four hundred thousand.”
Roman walked into the kitchen slowly and sat at the table. He avoided meeting his wife’s eyes, studying the pattern on the tablecloth with such concentration it was as if he were preparing for an exam in textile design.
“What’s a sum that large for?” Oksana asked calmly.
Galina nervously tugged at her bag strap, shifting from foot to foot.
“Debts. I took out loans at different banks—I thought I could handle it. Interest rates went up, payments increased. If I don’t pay the principal, they’ll start selling my apartment through the courts.”
“Those are your debts,” Oksana replied evenly. “I have nothing to do with them.”
Her mother-in-law’s eyebrows shot up, as if she’d heard something obscene.
“What do you mean you have nothing to do with it?” Galina protested. “You’re my son’s wife! Family!”
Oksana kept arranging the dishes, in no hurry to answer. Her movements were measured and calm. Roman stayed silent, still focused on the fabric pattern.
“Family ties don’t automatically mean financial obligations,” Oksana finally said. “You’re an adult—you chose to take those loans.”
“But you have money!” Galina wouldn’t let up. “Roman said you got an inheritance from your grandmother, and you’ve had good bonuses!”
Oksana slowly turned to her husband. Roman blushed and quickly looked away.
“Roman discusses our family finances?” his wife asked coldly.
“I just… Mom asked how we were doing,” he mumbled.
“How we’re doing and exact amounts in our accounts are two different things,” Oksana pointed out.
Galina seized the hesitation and raised her voice:
“A wife has to help the family! The money isn’t for me personally—it’s for all of us! If they evict me, where will I live? I’ll end up on your neck!”
“I’m not paying off someone else’s debts with my money,” Oksana snapped.
Galina’s face twisted with anger. She clenched her fists; her voice trembled with outrage.
“Someone else’s debts? I’m your husband’s mother! I raised him, educated him—I spent my whole life on him!”
“And what’s the result of all that spending?” Oksana asked. “Why does a woman with that much experience and seniority have no savings of her own?”
Galina opened her mouth but couldn’t answer. The question hit the sorest spot.
“I don’t have to report to you!” she finally forced out.
“But you’re demanding money from me,” Oksana reminded her. “Strange logic.”
Roman looked up and added uncertainly:
“Oksana… maybe we really could help. At least partially?”
His wife turned to him. Disappointment flickered in her eyes.
“Roman, do you understand what you’re saying? Four hundred thousand is serious money.”
“But Mom is in a tough situation,” Roman tried.
“In a situation she created herself,” Oksana emphasized. “And now she’s trying to solve it at someone else’s expense.”
Galina listened, growing more and more irritated. She clearly hadn’t expected this much resistance.
“Enough!” the mother-in-law barked. “I won’t let some upstart tell me how to live!”
“No one is telling you anything,” Oksana replied calmly. “I’m just not going to finance your mistakes.”
“Mistakes?” Galina flared. “I worked my whole life! I never asked anyone for help!”
“And now you are. And in a fairly aggressive way.”
“Because there’s no time!” she shouted. “Banks don’t wait! Collectors call every day!”
Oksana sat down at the table across from Galina. Her gaze was steady; her voice stayed even.
“Talk to a lawyer. There are debt restructuring programs, bankruptcy procedures.”
“Bankruptcy is shameful!” Galina snapped. “I have a reputation! What will people say?”
“People will say someone got into a difficult situation and got out of it legally,” Oksana said. “Not that she’s leeching off relatives.”
The word “leeching” landed like a slap. Galina went pale, then flushed red.
“How dare you!” she screamed. “Roman, do you hear what your wife is saying?”
Roman lifted his head; his face was completely lost.
“Mom… maybe we should discuss other options,” he offered weakly.
“What options?” Galina kept going. “So you’re against your mother too? Has your wife brainwashed you?”
“No one brainwashed anyone,” Oksana said coldly. “Everyone has to answer for their own actions.”
“For their own actions!” Galina threw up her hands. “And who paid for your apartment? Who gave money for your wedding?”
“My apartment was a gift from my parents, not yours,” Oksana reminded her. “And my parents paid for the wedding too.”
“You took gifts, and now you refuse to help!” Galina shouted. “Ungrateful! Selfish!”
Oksana stood and went to the window. Autumn dusk was thickening outside; courtyard lights were flicking on.
“Galina Petrovna, the conversation is over,” Oksana said without turning around. “I won’t give you any money.”
“You will!” the mother-in-law yelled. “You have it, so you’re obligated to help the family!”
“I’m obligated only to those who’ve contributed to this family,” Oksana replied. “Not to someone trying to squeeze something out of it.”
Galina sprang up from the chair, her face contorted with rage.
“Enough of your sarcasm!” she shrieked. “If you don’t transfer four hundred thousand, pack your things and get out of the house, parasite!”
Silence hung in the air. Even the sound of passing cars outside seemed to fade. Oksana slowly turned from the window and looked straight at Galina. Her voice was cold and clear:
“You crossed every line. Now I decide.”
Roman jumped up, trying to defuse the situation.
“Mom, what are you doing? Calm down! Oksana, let’s not get emotional!”
“Emotions have nothing to do with it,” Oksana answered evenly. “This is about principles.”
Galina stood in the middle of the kitchen, breathing hard. She clearly hadn’t expected her daughter-in-law to stand her ground.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed. “You’ll see what it’s like to live without family!”
“We’ll try it,” Oksana said calmly.
Tension in the kitchen reached a breaking point. Roman darted between them, not knowing whose side to take. Galina clenched and unclenched her fists, ready for something drastic.
Outside, it was fully dark. Yellow leaves kept falling from the trees, but now it didn’t look romantic—it looked ominous, as if nature were shedding everything unnecessary before a long winter.
Oksana decisively walked into the entryway. She picked up Galina’s bag and set it beside the front door. The thud of it on the floor sounded like a verdict.
“What are you doing?” Galina blurted.
“What should have been done from the start,” Oksana replied, returning to the kitchen.
Roman sprang up, trying to smooth things over.
“Mom, let’s calm down,” he said uncertainly. “Maybe we can find some kind of compromise?”
Oksana swung around toward Roman. Her eyes flashed with cold fire.
“You didn’t even try to support me,” she enunciated. “Instead you’re offering a compromise with someone who insults me and demands money. Then you’re leaving together.”
“What do you mean leaving?” Roman faltered. “Oksana, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that this is my apartment, and I’m not going to tolerate being treated like this.”
Galina threw up her hands, her voice shaking with indignation.
“Ungrateful!” she screamed. “We raised our son, put him on his feet, paid for his education—and you’re throwing him out on the street!”
“I’m not throwing anyone into the street,” Oksana replied calmly. “Roman has a mother. His mother has an apartment. Go live there and solve your financial problems on your own.”
Oksana went to the front door lock and took out her key ring—several keys on a metal loop: for the building entrance, the apartment, the mailbox.
“Give yours back,” she said to her husband, holding out the keys.
Roman stood motionless, as if he didn’t understand what was happening.
“Are you serious?” he asked quietly.
“Completely. Give me your keys and your mother’s.”
At that moment, voices sounded on the landing. The shouting had apparently drawn the neighbors. Tatyana Sergeyevna from the apartment across the hall cracked her door and peered through the gap. Elderly Vladimir Ivanovich from upstairs came down too, supposedly for the mail.
“What’s going on here?” Tatyana Sergeyevna asked.
“Family matters,” Vladimir Ivanovich grunted. “Arguing again.”
Galina realized she was now the center of attention. She was used to making a good impression, but right now she looked terrible—disheveled, red with anger.
“Nothing special,” she tried to smooth things over. “Just a family conversation.”
“A conversation with raised voices,” Vladimir Ivanovich noted. “Maybe keep it down?”
Oksana used the pause.
“Galina Petrovna is leaving,” the apartment owner announced loudly enough for the neighbors to hear. “Roman too.”
“Leaving? How’s that?” Tatyana Sergeyevna said in surprise. “Roman lives here, doesn’t he?”
“Lived,” Oksana corrected. “Circumstances have changed.”
Galina shot a venomous look at her daughter-in-law, then at the curious neighbors. She clearly hadn’t expected a private conflict to become public.
“Roman, take your things,” Oksana said firmly.
“Oksana, let’s talk in private,” Roman asked. “No witnesses—calmly.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. You made your choice when you stayed silent.”
“What choice? I didn’t choose anything!”
“Silence is a choice too,” Oksana reminded him. “When your mother insulted and threatened me, you said nothing. That was your choice.”
Roman opened his mouth but found no words. He understood: his wife was right. In the critical moment, he hadn’t protected his family.
Galina watched with rising panic. She rummaged in her bag for the keys, but her hands were shaking. At last she yanked out a small pouch—spare keys to her son’s apartment.
“Here are your keys!” Galina cried, waving the pouch.
But under Oksana’s steady stare and the neighbors’ curious eyes, she suddenly grasped the absurdity of it all. With a strangled motion, Galina threw the key on the floor. Metal clinked against the parquet.
“Pick it up yourself,” she snapped at her son.
Roman slowly bent down and picked up the key. He stared at the small piece of metal for a long time, as if seeing it for the first time.
“I’ll take the rest of my things later,” Roman said quietly.
“Take them now,” Oksana cut in. “Tomorrow there will be different locks.”
“You really intend to change the locks?”
“Of course. This is my apartment—my rules.”
Roman went into the bedroom and started packing his clothes into a travel bag. His movements were slow, as if each item required a separate decision. Galina, meanwhile, pulled on her coat and took her bag. She still hoped her daughter-in-law would come to her senses.
“You’ll regret this decision,” she hissed, passing Oksana.
“I doubt it,” Oksana answered calmly.
Roman came out of the bedroom with a bag and a bundle of things. He paused at the threshold, as if waiting for his wife to change her mind.
“Oksana… can I call you tomorrow?”
“Only through a lawyer,” she replied coldly.
“A lawyer? You’re talking about divorce?”
“Exactly.”
Galina and Roman exchanged stunned looks. Galina grabbed her son’s bag, and they headed for the exit. The neighbors followed them with disapproving whispers.
“It’s always like this,” Tatyana Sergeyevna muttered. “Families collapse over nothing.”
“Over nothing?” Vladimir Ivanovich remarked. “I heard it was about big money.”
“Four hundred thousand,” Tatyana Sergeyevna clarified. “Not a small sum for a young family.”
Oksana waited until the footsteps faded on the stairs, then closed the door. The lock clicked—a sound that used to mean coming home, but now symbolized the beginning of a new life.
She walked into the living room and sat on the couch. The apartment felt bigger and quieter without her husband. Outside, the leaves kept falling—yellow leaves spinning slowly in the streetlight, carpeting the courtyard in gold.
Oksana took out her phone and found in her contacts the number for Elena Viktorovna, a family lawyer a friend had recommended months earlier. Back then, talk of divorce had been about acquaintances; now it was personal.
The decision had fully ripened. Tomorrow morning, first thing, Oksana would go to court and file for divorce. The apartment would remain hers as property acquired before the marriage. There was hardly any jointly acquired property—Roman’s car was registered in his name, and they hadn’t made any major purchases.
She stood and went to the window. Stars peeked between the clouds. Somewhere in another part of the city, Roman was explaining to his mother how he’d let things come to divorce. Somewhere, collectors continued demanding repayment from Galina. But it no longer concerned Oksana.
The four hundred thousand rubles stayed with their rightful owner—along with the apartment, along with the right to live without constant demands and reproaches. Oksana turned on the kettle and took a beautiful cup from the cupboard—a housewarming gift from her parents. She had once saved it for special occasions, but now she understood: any day can be special, if you set your priorities right.
The tea brewed strong and fragrant. Oksana settled into an armchair with a book and a hot drink. For the first time in a long while, she felt completely calm. The decision was right, and she had no regrets.
Outside, the October night wrapped the city in silence. Tomorrow a new life would begin—without other people’s debts, without family scandals, without the need to justify every decision. Oksana smiled, turned the page of her book, and dissolved into a quiet evening that belonged only to her