October rain drummed against the windows of her parents’ apartment. Kristina sat at the table in the living room, nervously fiddling with the edge of a napkin. Pavel perched beside her, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. Across from them sat her parents—Nikolai Petrovich and Valentina Ivanovna. Both looked solemn, even a little excited.
The young couple had been living there for a year and a half, ever since the wedding. They didn’t have their own place, renting was expensive, so Kristina’s parents had offered to let them stay until they got on their feet. Kristina worked as a manager at a construction company, Pavel as a driver and deliveryman. Their salaries covered everyday expenses, but saving was slow—every month there were unexpected costs.
“Well then, kids,” Nikolai Petrovich began, clearing his throat. “Your mother and I decided to give you a present.”
Kristina looked up. Her parents exchanged glances, and her father pulled an envelope from his pocket and set it on the table in front of his daughter.
“Open it.”
With trembling fingers, Kristina took the envelope. Inside were documents—a certificate of ownership for an apartment. In her name. Kristina skimmed the lines, not immediately understanding what she was seeing.
“This… what is this?”
“An apartment,” Valentina Ivanovna smiled, wiping away tears that had appeared. “We bought you an apartment. A one-room place on the outskirts, but it’s yours. So you can live separately, build your own life.”
Kristina couldn’t hold back. Tears spilled out on their own. She jumped up and hugged her mother, then her father. Nikolai Petrovich patted her back, barely keeping it together himself.
“Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom. I don’t even know what to say…”
“Don’t say anything. It’s our duty—to help our children. We saved and put money aside our whole lives. We wanted to leave you something worthwhile.”
Pavel watched it all with a confused expression. Then he stood up and offered his father-in-law his hand.
“Thank you so much, Nikolai Petrovich. We… we’re very grateful.”
“Take care of each other,” the father said sternly. “That’s what matters. The rest will follow.”
A set of keys appeared on the table. Kristina picked them up, feeling the cold metal in her palm. Her own home. Her own apartment. She had dreamed of this moment all her life, but never thought it would come so soon.
“Can we go see it?” Kristina asked, wiping her eyes.
“Of course. The address is in the documents. We’ve already done some cosmetic repairs and installed the kitchen. You’ll just need to buy furniture and hang curtains.”
The rest of the evening passed in discussion. Her parents described how they chose the neighborhood, bargained with the developer, and handled the paperwork. Kristina listened, smiling nonstop. Pavel nodded along, but he was unusually quiet.
When the couple returned to their room, Kristina still couldn’t calm down. She reread the documents, turned the keys over in her hands, made plans.
“Pav, can you imagine? Our apartment! We’ll live on our own now!”
Her husband sat on the edge of the bed, thoughtfully staring at his phone screen.
“Yeah, great.”
“Why are you so gloomy? You should be happy!”
Pavel looked up and forced a smile.
“I am. I just… didn’t expect it. I thought we’d manage on our own someday.”
“We will. But my parents decided to help. That’s wonderful!”
He nodded and buried himself in the phone again. Kristina didn’t think much of it—she decided Pavel was simply tired after work.
On the way home—more precisely, back to her parents’ place where they still lived—Pavel suddenly pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Kristina walked beside him, holding his arm, still hardly believing what was happening.
“Hello, Mom?” Pavel said, and his voice sounded grand, even a bit theatrical. “Listen, we’ve got news! Today we were given an apartment. Can you imagine?”
Kristina tensed. She kept walking, but now listened closely.
“Yeah, yeah, an apartment! But you know what? Kristina and I decided it’ll be your apartment. We’re giving it to you!”
Kristina stopped dead in her tracks. The world around her seemed to freeze. Pavel kept talking, not noticing that his wife had gone rigid.
“Of course, Mom! You’ve dreamed of having your own place your whole life. And now you will! Come over, move in!”
Slowly, Kristina let go of his arm. Blood rushed to her face, her pulse hammered in her temples. Pavel finally turned, saw the expression on her face.
“Mom, I’ll call you back,” he said quickly and hung up. “Why are you just standing there?”
“What… what did you just say?” Kristina’s voice came out hoarse.
“Well, I told my mom about the apartment.”
“You said we were giving it to her.”
Pavel shrugged, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Yeah. So what? Mom’s rented her whole life, struggled. Now she’ll finally have her own corner.”
“Pavel,” Kristina took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “It’s my apartment. My parents saved their whole lives. They gave it to me. Do you understand? To me.”
“So what? We’re a family now. My mom is your mom. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is huge! You had no right to dispose of my property without my permission!”
Pavel grimaced and snorted in annoyance.
“There it is. Say one wrong thing and it’s a scandal. I meant well. I wanted to help Mom.”
“Help her with your own money! Work, save up, buy her an apartment yourself!”
“I do work! It’s just that I don’t have a rich daddy who can buy housing!”
Kristina flinched as if slapped. Pavel immediately cut himself off, realizing he’d gone too far.
“Sorry, that’s not what I meant…”
“Don’t. Just call your mother and tell her you were joking. That we’re not giving anyone any apartment.”
“Kris, wait. Let’s discuss it calmly. Mom’s already happy—I can’t take it back now.”
“You can. And you have to.”
Pavel shook his head and spread his hands.
“She’s my mother. An older woman. Worked her whole life, and now she lives in a rented room. Is it really that hard to help her?”
“Help her yourself! It’s not your apartment!”
“But it’s yours either, in a way. Your parents gave it to both of us.”
“The documents are in my name. Only my name. And there will be no gifts.”
Pavel frowned and fell silent. The rest of the way they walked in silence. Kristina was boiling inside but tried to keep control. She didn’t want to start a fight at home—her parents would hear and get upset.
The next day Kristina left for work earlier than usual. All day her thoughts returned to last night’s conversation. Did Pavel really think he had the right to decide what to do with her parents’ gift? Did he truly not understand how wrong it was?
That evening Kristina came home exhausted. Her parents were in the kitchen drinking tea. She greeted them and went to her room. Pavel wasn’t there—he was staying late at work.
Around eight there was a ring at the door. Nikolai Petrovich went to open it. Kristina heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice in the entryway.
“Hello! I’m Lidiya Fyodorovna, Pavel’s mother. May I come in?”
Kristina froze. She stepped into the hallway. At the door stood a short, plump woman around fifty-five, with three huge bags and a pot in her hands. Her cheeks were rosy, her face pleased.
“Oh, Kristinochka!” Lidiya Fyodorovna exclaimed happily. “Here I am! Pavlik told me to come—said I’d be living with you. I’m so happy, you can’t imagine!”
Nikolai Petrovich looked at his daughter, bewildered. Valentina Ivanovna came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Hello,” Kristina said carefully. “Lidiya Fyodorovna, does Pavel know you’re coming today?”
“Of course! We talked it all over yesterday. My son said the apartment is mine now, told me to pack and go. So I came. I didn’t even manage to bring all my things—I’ll bring the rest later.”
Kristina clenched her fists. Her parents exchanged glances.
“Come in, have a seat,” Valentina Ivanovna said, taking one of the bags and helping the guest take off her coat. “Have some tea after the road.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna walked into the living room and looked around.
“Oh, what a spacious apartment you have! And mine will be small—one room. But it’s fine, it’ll be enough for me. The main thing is it’s mine!”
Kristina stood silently in the hallway. Everything inside her was seething. Pavel hadn’t just joked. He had actually invited his mother to live in an apartment that belonged to his wife.
“Lidiya Fyodorovna,” Kristina began, trying to keep her voice even, “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. The apartment is in my name. My parents gave it to me. I haven’t given it to anyone.”
Her mother-in-law looked at Kristina in confusion.
“How can that be? Pavlik called yesterday and said it was my apartment. That you decided to give me a gift.”
“Pavel was mistaken. The apartment is mine, and only I decide what happens with it.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna’s face fell.
“But I already moved out! I rented out my room, packed my things! Where am I supposed to go now?”
“I don’t know. But your son should have consulted me before inviting you.”
“Kristina,” Valentina Ivanovna said softly. “Maybe until Pavel comes back we shouldn’t argue? Lidiya Fyodorovna is tired from the trip.”
Kristina nodded, turned around, and went to her room. She sat on the bed and covered her head with her hands. What was going on? Her husband had invited his mother to move in, without asking. Just called her and told her to come. As if it were his property, not a gift from his wife’s parents.
Pavel came back half an hour later. Kristina heard Lidiya Fyodorovna’s delighted voice in the entryway:
“Son! Here I am! I came like you told me to!”
“Mom, hi,” Pavel’s voice sounded strained. “Why so fast? I thought you’d come tomorrow.”
“But you told me yourself—pack up and come. I dropped everything, packed and rushed over. I was afraid you’d change your mind.”
Kristina stepped into the hallway. Pavel saw her—and went pale.
“Kris, I can explain…”
“Explain.”
“Mom misunderstood. I didn’t tell her to come right now.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna frowned.
“Pavlik, you said yesterday—the apartment is mine, come move in.”
“Mom, I said we’d discuss it with Kristina…”
“You didn’t say anything like that!” his mother raised her voice. “You said: it’s yours, Mom, we’re giving it to you!”
Kristina looked at her husband. Pavel averted his eyes.
“Lidiya Fyodorovna,” Kristina said slowly, “let me call you a taxi. You’ll go back to your room, and Pavel and I will talk this through. Tomorrow we’ll call and decide what to do next.”
“What taxi? I already moved out! I rented the room to other people! I have nowhere to go back to!”
Kristina closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, then opened them and looked at her husband.
“Pavel, come out. We need to talk. Now.”
He nodded. They stepped onto the landing. Kristina shut the door behind them.
“Do you understand what you’ve done?”
“I wanted to help Mom…”
“At my expense! You decided what to do with my property without my permission! You invited your mother to live in an apartment my parents gave me!”
Pavel shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor.
“What was I supposed to do? Mom’s struggled her whole life. I couldn’t refuse.”
“You could. And you should have. It wasn’t your decision!”
“Then whose? You’re my wife. My mom is your mom. Can’t we help a loved one?”
“We can. But not like this. You didn’t even ask me. You just called and invited her. Now your mother moved out, and what—I’m supposed to throw an older woman out into the street?”
Pavel looked up, hope flickering in his eyes.
“So she can stay?”
“No!” Kristina took a step back and held her hands out. “No, Pavel. The apartment is mine. You and I will live there. Just the two of us. Without your mother.”
Pavel pressed his lips together; his face turned stubborn.
“She has nowhere else to go.”
“That’s your problem. You invited her—you deal with it.”
“How? She already rented out her room!”
“Rent another one. Together. Or one for the two of you. I don’t know. But your mother will not move into my apartment.”
Pavel stepped closer and searched her eyes.
“Kris, try to understand. She’s my mom. My own person. Is it really so hard to help her?”
“Help her. But not at my expense and not in my apartment.”
“But the apartment is mine too! We’re husband and wife!”
Kristina shook her head.
“The documents are in my name. Only my name. My parents gave the apartment to me, not to us. And I decide.”
Pavel recoiled, his face twisting.
“So that’s it. You’re ready to throw my mother onto the street. An older woman. Who worked her whole life, suffered.”
“I’m not throwing her out. I’m just not letting her live in my apartment. Those are different things.”
“To me it’s the same.”
Kristina turned, opened the door, and went inside. Pavel followed. In the entryway Lidiya Fyodorovna stood with a flushed face.
“Well, son? Did you decide?”
Pavel glanced at his wife. Kristina stood with her arms crossed.
“Mom,” Pavel said slowly, “you’ll have to live here for now. With us. At Kristina’s parents’. Until we sort out the apartment.”
His mother-in-law broke into a smile.
“Of course, son! I don’t mind! The main thing is we’re all together!”
Kristina stepped forward.
“No.”
Pavel turned.
“What do you mean, no?”
“Your mother will not live here. This is my parents’ apartment. They didn’t invite anyone.”
“Kris, where is she supposed to go now? It’s already evening!”
“To a hotel. Or friends. Or to your job, I don’t know. But she won’t stay here.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna threw up her hands.
“My God, what cruelty! Son, do you hear how she’s talking to me?”
Pavel clenched his fists and stepped toward his wife.
“Kris, stop it. Mom will sleep here tonight, and tomorrow we’ll figure it out.”
“No.”
He grabbed Kristina’s arm.
“Stop throwing a tantrum! That’s my mother!”
Kristina yanked her arm free and stepped back.
“And this is my parents’ home! They’re the owners here, not me! Ask them if they’re ready to take your mother in!”
Pavel turned. Nikolai Petrovich and Valentina Ivanovna stood in the kitchen doorway, their faces stern.
“Excuse us, Lidiya Fyodorovna,” Valentina Ivanovna said quietly. “But we really aren’t ready to host you. This is our home, and we didn’t invite guests.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. Her face blotched.
“So that’s how it is! Son, do you see? That’s your family! This is how they treat your mother!”
Pavel stood helplessly, looking from his mother to his wife. Kristina stared at her husband and suddenly understood clearly—married life was only beginning, and if she stayed silent now, it would only get worse.
Lidiya Fyodorovna grabbed one of the bags and demonstratively marched into the living room. She sat on the couch and crossed her arms.
“If that’s how it is, I’ll sleep here. On the couch. We’ll sort it out in the morning.”
Kristina followed, stopping in the doorway.
“Lidiya Fyodorovna, I’m serious. You need to leave.”
Her mother-in-law snorted and turned to the wall.
“I’m not going anywhere. My son invited me, so I have the right to be here.”
Kristina turned to her husband.
“Pavel, solve this. Now.”
He shrugged guiltily.
“Kris, come on, at least for one night. Tomorrow we’ll think of something.”
“No. Today.”
Nikolai Petrovich approached his son-in-law and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Pavel, I understand it’s complicated. But Kristina is right. You and your mother need another solution. This is our home, and we’re not ready to host guests.”
Pavel nodded and went into the living room. He sat down next to his mother.
“Mom, let me find you a hotel. For a couple of days. Until we settle everything.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna shot to her feet, her face contorting.
“A hotel?! You want to send your own mother to a hotel?! After inviting me to live in an apartment?!”
“Mom, I didn’t think you’d come so fast…”
“You told me yourself! Your own words! ‘It’s yours, Mom, come!’”
Kristina went into the room and pulled the folder with the documents from the wardrobe. She returned and placed it on the coffee table in front of her mother-in-law.
“Lidiya Fyodorovna, look.”
The woman took the folder grudgingly and opened it. She skimmed the purchase agreement. Her face slowly drained of color.
“My parents bought the apartment,” Kristina continued calmly. “They registered it in my name. Only in my name. Pavel had no right to decide anything without my consent. There was no gift, and there won’t be.”
Her mother-in-law slammed the folder shut and threw it onto the table.
“So that’s what it is! So my son means nothing! Just an add-on to your apartment!”
“No. Pavel is my husband, and I love him. But the apartment is mine, and I decide who will live there.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna turned to her son.
“Do you hear how she talks to me?! Are you going to let her humiliate your mother like that?!”
Pavel stared at the floor in silence.
“Pavlik!” his mother shouted. “Say something! Stand up for me!”
Pavel lifted his head and looked at his mother.
“Mom, Kristina is right. I shouldn’t have invited you without her permission.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna recoiled as if struck.
“So… you’re on her side. Against your own mother.”
“I’m not against you. It’s just that it really is her apartment, and Kristina makes the decision.”
His mother grabbed her bag, yanked the zipper, and began frantically digging through her things.
“Fine. Wonderful. I’ll go out into the street. Sit on a bench. Maybe someone there will pity me!”
Kristina took out her phone and opened a taxi app.
“Lidiya Fyodorovna, I’ll call you a car. Tell me the address of a hotel or friends you want to go to.”
The woman sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“What friends? What hotel? I don’t have money for that! I spent everything on moving!”
Pavel reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet.
“Mom, here. Take it. This will cover a few days.”
She waved him off.
“I don’t need your money! If you don’t need your mother anymore, just say it!”
“Mom, I need you. It’s just not the time. We really will sort this out, but later, after we talk properly.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna sniffed, took the bills, and shoved them into her pocket.
“Then remember this, son. You chose her. Not me. Her and her apartment. When you need help, don’t come to me. You’ll have a mother only on paper now.”
“Mom, don’t say that…”
“How else should I talk?! You promised me a home! You promised I’d live with you! And now you’re kicking me out like a stranger!”
Kristina entered the address of a cheap hotel in the app and confirmed the ride.
“The car will be here in ten minutes.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna heaved herself up from the couch. Pavel tried to take one of the bags, but she jerked her hand away.
“No need. I’ll carry it myself. I’ll get used to managing without your help.”
Those ten minutes dragged painfully. She stood in the entryway, demonstratively turned away from everyone. Pavel tried to say something, but she didn’t respond.
Finally a notification popped up—taxi had arrived. Kristina took two bags and carried them to the elevator. Pavel grabbed the third and followed. Lidiya Fyodorovna walked behind them, loudly sniffling.
Outside, an old foreign car waited. The driver got out and opened the trunk. Kristina and Pavel loaded the bags. Lidiya Fyodorovna climbed into the back seat and slammed the door.
“Mom, I’ll call tomorrow,” Pavel said, leaning toward the window.
His mother turned away, pressing her face to the opposite window. The car pulled away. Pavel stood watching the red tail lights.
Kristina turned and headed for the building. Pavel hurried after her.
“Kris, wait.”
She stopped and turned.
“What?”
“Maybe we were too harsh. She’s still my mother. We could’ve let her stay for a couple of days.”
Kristina stepped closer and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Pavel, listen carefully. If you ever give away my property again, you can pack your things and go live with your mother in a коммуналка. Got it?”
Pavel stepped back and nodded.
“Got it.”
“The apartment is mine. My parents gave it to me. I decide who lives there. If you want to help your mother—work, save up, rent her a room. But don’t decide what to do with things that aren’t yours.”
“I understand, Kris. Really. I won’t do it again.”
They went upstairs in silence, to the fourth floor, and entered the apartment. Her parents were in the kitchen and heard the front door slam.
“Is everything okay?” Valentina Ivanovna asked.
“Yes, Mom. Lidiya Fyodorovna left. Everything’s fine.”
Kristina went into her room and closed the door. She sat on the bed, took out the folder with the documents, and stared for a long time at the certificate of ownership. Then she got up, went to the wardrobe, opened the top shelf where old textbooks and boxes of odds and ends were kept, and hid the folder behind a stack of books.
Pavel came in and carefully shut the door.
“Kris, I’m sorry. I really didn’t think.”
“Didn’t think?” Kristina turned around. “You called your mother and promised her an apartment without even asking me. That isn’t ‘didn’t think.’ That’s ‘didn’t think I needed to ask.’”
“I wanted what was best…”
“For whom? For your mother? And did you think about me? About my parents who saved that money their whole lives?”
Pavel sat on the edge of the bed and lowered his head.
“Mom rented her whole life. Scraped by in corners. I wanted to help her.”
“Help her. But with your own effort. I’m not against you helping your mother. But not at my expense.”
He nodded and rubbed his face with his hands.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Kristina walked over and sat beside him.
“Pavel, we’re husband and wife. But that doesn’t mean you can decide what to do with my things without permission. The apartment is registered in my name. It’s my property. And I make the decisions. Clear?”
“Clear.”
“If you want your mother to live separately—save money. Or rent her a room. I’m not against it. But she will not move into our apartment.”
“Okay. I understand.”
Kristina stood up and went to the window. She looked out at the dark courtyard lit by a few scattered streetlights.
“We’ll move there in a month. We’ll buy furniture, set everything up. We’ll start living our own life. But it will be our life. Just ours. Without your mother and without my parents. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
The next few days were tense. Pavel visited his mother and tried to explain. Lidiya Fyodorovna refused to speak to her son; she would silently open the hotel room door and just as silently close it again. On the third day she finally agreed to listen.
“Mom, I screwed up. I admit it. I shouldn’t have promised you the apartment without Kristina’s permission.”
“So your wife matters more to you than your mother.”
“No. It’s just that the apartment really is hers. A gift from her parents. I had no right to decide.”
Lidiya Fyodorovna sat on the bed in the hotel room, staring at the wall.
“And what am I supposed to do now? I rented out my room. I have nowhere to live.”
“Mom, I’ll rent you a room. I already found an option. Cheap, in a good area. I’ll help pay.”
“Back to renting again. Back to someone else’s corners.”
“For now, yes. But later we’ll save up and figure something out.”
She sighed and waved a hand.
“Do what you want. Since that’s how it turned out.”
Pavel helped his mother move into the new room. Small, but clean and cozy. She accepted the help, but their relationship didn’t grow warmer.
Meanwhile Kristina worked on setting up the apartment. She chose furniture, ordered appliances, planned repairs. Her parents helped with advice and sometimes financially. Kristina tried to do everything so the place would feel truly comfortable.
Two weeks later Pavel came home from work and found his wife in the kitchen, sorting through furniture catalogs.
“Kris, can we talk?”
“Of course.”
He sat down opposite her, folding his hands on the table.
“I’ve been thinking a lot. About what happened. And I realized—you were right. Completely right. I behaved like a jerk.”
Kristina set the catalog aside and looked at him.
“Go on.”
“I didn’t value what your parents did for you. I treated the apartment as something automatic. I thought if we’re married, then everything is ours together. But that’s wrong.”
“It is wrong.”
“The apartment is yours. A gift from your parents. And I had no right to decide anything about it. Forgive me.”
Kristina nodded and reached her hand across the table. Pavel took her palm.
“Thank you for saying that.”
“I’ll try not to do that again. I’ll talk things through with you. On all important matters.”
“That’s right.”
He squeezed her fingers.
“Mom is still offended. But I explained to her that I was wrong. I hope with time she’ll understand.”
“I hope so.”
At the end of October they began moving. They packed their things into boxes. Nikolai Petrovich helped with transportation—he arranged a truck through a colleague. Valentina Ivanovna baked pies so the young couple would have something to eat in the new place.
The apartment was bright, with big windows. The kitchen was small but functional. The room was spacious, with a door to the balcony. Kristina walked from corner to corner, planning where everything would go. Pavel assembled the bed, working through the instructions.
By evening the basics were ready. The bed was put together, the wardrobe installed, the kitchen dishes unpacked. Her parents left, leaving the young couple alone in their new home.
Kristina went out onto the balcony. The October air was cold and smelled of rain. She hugged herself and looked down at the yard: a playground, a few benches, a parking lot. A typical sleeping district—nothing special. But it was her home. Her apartment. Her space.
Pavel came out after her and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
“It’s cold.”
“A little.”
“Want to go inside?”
“Wait. I want to stand here for another minute.”
He held her tighter.
“Are you happy?”
Kristina smiled. For the first time in a long while, it was a real smile—without tension.
“Yes. I’m happy.”
The apartment remained hers. No uninvited guests, no humiliation, no other people’s claims. Her parents had given their daughter a piece of independence, and she managed to defend it. A new life lay ahead—alongside a husband who still had to learn to respect boundaries. But the first step had been taken. And that beginning belonged only to her