“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Natasha asked, studying Mark’s face as they walked along the evening street. The autumn wind teased strands of her hair, and the shop lights shimmered in her eyes.
“What’s the big deal?” Mark shrugged, as if nothing unusual was happening. “It’s a big place—three rooms. There’ll be enough space for everyone.”
“Mark, we just got married. Two weeks ago!” Natasha stopped and turned to him. “And now we’re supposed to live with your parents? When they announced at the wedding that they were giving us an apartment, I never imagined it meant moving in together.”
“Natalia, they’re simply looking out for us,” Mark said in a tone that made her feel like a child being corrected. “Think about it—we’ll save on rent, on utilities. And it’ll be easier for Mom if you help her with the housework.”
“I can’t believe this. So I’m expected to help your mother run the household? Did you forget I have a full-time job?” Natasha’s outrage was raw and honest.
Mark slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“Let’s give it a chance. We’re just starting our life together. The apartment is nice, the neighborhood is great. And in a year or two, once we’re stable, we can think about a place of our own.”
Natasha sighed. She knew arguing was pointless. She knew that particular tone of Mark’s—when the decision had already been made and the conversation existed only for appearance.
The first few days in the new apartment felt like a strange dream. Valeria Romanovna greeted Natasha each morning with a smile, but her eyes remained cold. She always found something to criticize: the dishes weren’t arranged “properly,” the dusting wasn’t “thorough enough,” lunch wasn’t cooked “the right way.”
“Natushenka,” her mother-in-law would say in a honeyed voice, “you have to peel potatoes thinly. Look how much good food goes to waste. In our family, we’ve always been careful with groceries.”
Natasha clenched her teeth and nodded.
Sergey Yevgenyevich was less intrusive, but he had his own quirks. At exactly seven each evening, the television became his territory, and no one was allowed to disturb the sacred ritual of watching the news. At the smallest sound, he would turn and fix a stern look over the top of his glasses.
Mark seemed oblivious to the tension. He came home from work, talked about his day, joked with his father—and saw nothing strange in the fact that his wife barely spoke at all.
“They’re going to drive me insane,” Natasha confessed to her friend Irina when they met at a café. “Yesterday Valeria Romanovna rearranged all my cosmetics ‘for order.’ And when I tried to explain it was inconvenient for me, she got offended and didn’t speak to me for two hours.”
“And Mark? What does he say?” Irina sipped her coffee, watching her closely.
“Mark?” Natasha gave a bitter half-smile. “‘Mom meant well.’ ‘Dad is tired from work.’ ‘You have to respect your elders.’”
“But Natasha… isn’t it your apartment? A wedding gift?”
Natasha dropped her eyes.
“That’s exactly the problem. Yesterday I accidentally saw the documents. The apartment is registered to Mark and his parents. I’m not on it.”
“What?” Irina nearly choked. “How is that possible? They said it in front of everyone at the wedding…”
“Exactly. They said it,” Natasha paused. “But in reality, I’m just… a tenant. And sometimes I feel like they planned it all from the beginning. They waited for the wedding, made a grand announcement in front of the guests—and now they’re slowly pushing me out.”
“But why?” Irina asked, genuinely confused.
“I don’t know. Maybe they always wanted Mark to marry someone else. Maybe they just want to control his entire life,” Natasha said, thinking. “Or maybe it isn’t about me at all—it’s something else. Yesterday I heard them whispering in the kitchen. Something about debts… and investments.”
“Natalia, you need to have a serious talk with Mark.”
“I tried,” Natasha said wearily. “But the moment I mention his parents, it’s like he builds a wall between us.”
Changes began at Natasha’s workplace. The construction company was expanding, opening a branch in a neighboring city, and management was searching for employees for a new team.
“Ms. Shelepova, stay a minute,” her boss called after the meeting.
When everyone else left, he continued:
“I have an offer for you. We’re putting together a team for the Northern Project. We need a capable economist. A six-month assignment, maybe longer. Salary is thirty percent higher. How do you feel about it?”
Natasha felt her heart speed up. It was a chance—career growth and a way, at least temporarily, to escape the suffocating atmosphere of her in-laws’ apartment.
“I need to think,” she said. “It’s a serious decision.”
“Of course,” her boss nodded. “You have three days.”
All day Natasha imagined how she would tell Mark. She hoped for support, for understanding. But the conversation went nothing like she expected.
“A work assignment? For six months?” Mark frowned. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?” Natasha tried to keep her voice calm. “It’s a great opportunity for me—for us.”
“Natalia, we’re a family. We only just started living together. How do you imagine this working?”
“Mark, it’s not forever. Six months will fly by. Then I’ll come back with a promotion, new experience. We can save for our own place.”
Mark shook his head.
“Natalia, no. I already discussed it with my parents…”
“What?” Natasha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You discussed my job with your parents before you even talked to me?”
“They’re part of our family too. And they agree with me—you shouldn’t go.”
At that moment Valeria Romanovna stepped into the room, as if she’d been listening behind the door.
“Natushenka, we’re very happy you’re doing so well at work,” she began in that special tone that made Natasha’s teeth ache. “But family matters more than career, doesn’t it? You and Mark just got married—you need to be together. And then, who knows—maybe little ones will come along soon.”
Natasha felt her vision darken with anger and helplessness.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Natasha admitted to her coworker Pavel during lunch break. Pavel was one of the few people she could speak to honestly. He’d been with the company longer and often gave her solid advice.
“Have you tried offering a compromise?” Pavel asked. “Maybe rent a place close to your in-laws—separate, but nearby?”
“I suggested it,” Natasha sighed. “Mark said it’s a pointless waste of money when we already have a great place.”
“Are you sure that apartment is really a gift?” Pavel asked carefully. “What if there’s another story behind it?”
Natasha hesitated.
“You know… that worries me too. But how do I find out the truth? Mark believes his parents without question.”
“Does Mark have other relatives? Someone who might know the real history of the apartment?”
“He has a cousin—Viktor. They aren’t very close, but they keep in touch. I remember Viktor reacted strangely at the wedding when Mark’s parents announced the ‘gift.’ I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”
“Maybe you should talk to him.”
Natasha nodded. It was a lead—small, but still something.
Meeting Viktor wasn’t easy for Natasha. She hesitated for a long time before messaging him. To her surprise, he agreed immediately.
They met in a small café far from the city center. Viktor turned out to be pleasant company—open and direct.
“I’ve been waiting for one of you to come to me with questions sooner or later,” he said after they exchanged greetings. “Honestly, I thought it would be Mark.”
“So there is something to ask?” Natasha watched him closely.
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t suspect it,” Viktor said, taking a sip of coffee. “The apartment you’re living in belonged to our grandmother, Maria Stepanovna. She adored Mark—he was her favorite grandson.”
“Mark never told me anything about his grandmother,” Natasha said, surprised.
“Not surprising,” Viktor replied. “Aunt Valeria—Mark’s mother—did her best to limit their contact. Grandma was… let’s say, a strong personality. And very perceptive. She saw Aunt Valeria for who she was right away. And Valeria never forgives that.”
“And what about the apartment?” Natasha asked impatiently.
“Grandma left it to Mark in her will. Only to Mark, understand? With one condition—when he married, he was to live there with his family. There was no mention of the parents. But Aunt Valeria and Uncle Sergey somehow persuaded him to change the paperwork so they became co-owners too.”
“But why would Mark agree? It was his inheritance!”
“Mark has always been…” Viktor searched for the right word. “A very obedient son. Aunt Valeria is a master at using guilt. I’m guessing she pushed the right buttons—‘we’re getting old, we need support, you won’t abandon your parents, will you…’”
“And what do I have to do with it?” Natasha asked quietly. “Why do they treat me like this?”
“You’re in the way,” Viktor said bluntly. “Aunt Valeria wanted full control over Mark’s life. Then you showed up—independent, with your own opinions. And besides…” He stopped, as if unsure whether to continue.
“Besides what?” Natasha pressed.
“They’re in financial trouble,” Viktor said. “A few years ago Uncle Sergey invested all their savings into some shady scheme and lost everything. Now they need someone to support them. Mark is the perfect candidate. And you… you could ruin that plan.”
Natasha sat there stunned. Everything clicked into place—her mother-in-law’s strange behavior, the money conversations Natasha had overheard, and their insistence that she shouldn’t leave for a business assignment.
“Do you have proof?” she asked. “Documents—anything that could convince Mark?”
“I have a copy of Grandma’s original will,” Viktor said. “And I can speak to the notary who certified it. He’s still practicing.”
“Viktor, I need your help,” Natasha said firmly. “Mark has to see what’s really happening.”
When Natalia returned home, the atmosphere felt even tighter. Valeria Romanovna barely spoke to her, and when she did, it was with thinly veiled hostility.
“Where have you been?” she asked as Natasha entered. “Mark called—he was looking for you.”
“I met with a coworker,” Natasha said, deciding not to mention Viktor yet. “We were discussing a project.”
“A coworker?” Valeria Romanovna’s voice carried suspicion. “Which one?”
“Pavel,” Natasha answered honestly. “We’re working together on the expansion project.”
“I see,” Valeria Romanovna drawled. “And does Mark know you meet other men?”
“What?” Natasha stared at her. “Valeria Romanovna, it was a work meeting. Pavel is my colleague—nothing more.”
“Of course, of course,” the older woman smiled unpleasantly. “I’m simply worried about your family. Mark works so hard, tries so much for both of you, and you…”
Natasha didn’t stay to listen. She went to her room, feeling the situation escalating—and knowing she needed to act quickly.
That evening, when Mark came home, Natasha decided it was time for a serious talk. She waited until his parents went to a neighbor’s place, then spoke.
“We need to talk,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.
“About what?” Mark looked tired—and not particularly interested.
“About us. About our future. About this apartment,” Natasha steadied herself. “Mark, your grandmother left this apartment to you. Only to you.”
Mark flinched and stared at her.
“Who told you that?”
“Viktor. And he has a copy of the will,” Natasha held his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you agree to live with your parents when your grandmother left it to you and your future family?”
Mark looked lost.
“Natalia… it’s not that simple. Yes, I inherited it. But my parents have done a lot for me. They raised me, paid for my education. I couldn’t just leave them without support.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t support them,” Natasha replied. “But why can’t we live separately? Why do I have to learn from Viktor—not from you—that your grandmother left you this apartment?”
“Because it doesn’t matter!” Mark snapped unexpectedly. “Yes, Grandma left it to me. So what? I chose to share it with my parents. That’s my right.”
“And what about me?” Natasha’s voice trembled. “Why am I not on the paperwork if this is supposed to be our home?”
Mark hesitated.
“That was Dad’s decision. He said it would be safer. That if something happened to us, my parents could take care of the apartment.”
“Mark, doesn’t it bother you that every decision is made without me? That your parents plan our life—and you just agree?”
“Natalia, enough!” Mark raised his voice. “You’re taking too much on yourself. My parents want what’s best for us!”
At that moment Natalia’s phone rang. It was her boss.
“Ms. Shelepova? I have news. Management reviewed your résumé. They’re offering you more than a role in the project—they want you as head of the new department. It’s a major promotion. But the condition remains: relocation to the Northern branch for at least a year. We need your answer by the end of the week.”
When Natasha hung up, she saw Mark watching her with alarm.
“Who was that?” he asked.
“My boss,” she said plainly. “They’re offering me a promotion—head of a new department in the Northern branch.”
“But that means…” Mark went pale.
“Yes,” Natasha nodded. “It means moving. For a year—maybe longer.”
“You already said no, right?” Mark asked, his voice full of certainty that she couldn’t accept.
Natasha took a deep breath.
“No, Mark. I said I’d give my answer by the end of the week. And I really want to say yes.”
The next few days turned into a cold war. Mark barely spoke to Natasha, and his parents openly showed their disapproval. Valeria Romanovna seized every opportunity to make pointed remarks about “some wives who put career above family,” while Sergey Yevgenyevich kept scoffing in support of his wife.
Natasha felt trapped. She tried to talk to Mark again, but he waved her off, saying he needed time.
Meanwhile Viktor kept his promise: he gave Natasha a copy of the will and several letters their grandmother had written to Mark shortly before she died. In them, she clearly expressed her wish that Mark live in the apartment with his wife and children—build a family, not remain under his parents’ control.
Natasha decided to show the letters to Mark, but she couldn’t find the right moment—he was either absent or with his parents.
And then everything broke open in the most unexpected way.
Natasha came home from work earlier than usual and found Valeria Romanovna doing something strange. She was sitting at the table in the young couple’s room, carefully copying someone’s handwriting. Natasha’s notebook lay open nearby.
“What are you doing?” Natasha asked, frozen in the doorway.
Valeria Romanovna jerked and tried to cover the paper with her hand, but Natasha was faster. She stepped closer and saw the letter her mother-in-law was writing—supposedly from Natasha, addressed to Pavel. It contained declarations of love and hints of a relationship.
“Are you forging a letter?” Natasha was in shock. “Why?”
“You’re destroying our family!” Valeria Romanovna suddenly screamed, dropping her polite mask. “You want to take Mark away and drag him from us! Do you think I don’t see the way you look at that Pavel of yours? The way you talk about him all the time?”
“What are you talking about? Pavel is my coworker and my friend—nothing more!”
“You’re lying!” Valeria Romanovna sprang up, knocking over a chair. “All you want is Mark’s apartment and money! And now that you’ve gotten a promotion, you’ll abandon him!”
“I’m not abandoning Mark!” Natasha shot back. “I want us to live like normal people—without constant control and manipulation!”
Their shouting was cut off by the sound of the front door. Mark had come home. Hearing the raised voices, he rushed into the room.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded, looking from his mother to his wife.
“Mark, your mother is forging a letter—pretending it’s from me to Pavel—with love confessions!” Natasha blurted. “She’s trying to tear us apart!”
Valeria Romanovna changed tactics instantly. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Son, I was only trying to protect you,” she sobbed. “She’s lying to you—she’s seeing another man. I saw the way they talk, the way he looks at her!”
Mark looked stunned, switching his gaze between them.
“Mom… is it true?” he asked quietly. “Did you forge that letter?”
“Mark, she wants to leave you! Leave all of us!” Valeria Romanovna cried, refusing to answer.
“And is that true?” Mark turned to Natasha. “Do you really want to go?”
“Yes,” Natasha said firmly. “I want to accept the job offer. But I don’t want to end our marriage. I asked you to come with me—to start over somewhere new. You didn’t even want to discuss it.”
A heavy silence fell, broken only by Valeria Romanovna’s sobbing.
“Mark, you need to see this,” Natasha said, pulling an envelope from her bag—the letters and a copy of the will. “Read it. These are your grandmother’s letters. She loved you and wanted you to be happy—to build your own family, not live under your parents’ control.”
Mark took the envelope and, without a word, left the room.
To Natasha, time seemed to stop. Mark shut himself in his parents’ room and didn’t come out for hours. Valeria Romanovna calmed down and sat in the kitchen, staring into nothing. Sergey Yevgenyevich came home from work, learned what had happened, and looked shaken—quiet in a way Natalia had never seen.
Natasha didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to pack immediately and leave, but another part still hoped Mark would finally see the truth.
When Mark finally came out, his face looked drawn, shadows under his eyes—as if he hadn’t simply read, but relived his entire life.
“We need to talk,” he said to his parents. “All of us. Together.”
They gathered in the living room. Mark sat across from his parents, while Natasha stayed to the side, feeling like an outsider in what should have been her own marriage.
“I read Grandma’s letters,” Mark began. His voice was unexpectedly firm. “And I understood a lot. She always told me I had to live my own life. And I didn’t listen. Or rather… I listened to the wrong people.”
He turned to his parents.
“Why did you hide her last letters from me? Why did you push me into transferring the apartment into your names? And most importantly—why do you treat Natasha like this?”
Valeria Romanovna started to deny it out of habit, but Sergey Yevgenyevich suddenly cut her off.
“Enough, Valeria. The game is over.”
He looked at his son.
“Mark… we owe you an apology. And we owe Natasha one too,” he added, glancing at her. “We’re in serious financial trouble. I made a mistake. Years ago I put all our savings into a project that turned out to be a scam. We lost everything. Then we took out a loan trying to climb out of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mark’s voice cracked with hurt.
“Pride, son,” Sergey Yevgenyevich gave a bitter smile. “How could I admit that at sixty I’d been such a fool? That I’d ruined everything we’d worked for?”
“When Grandma died and you inherited the apartment, we saw a way out,” Valeria Romanovna continued, now without tears or theatrics. “We thought we could all live together, help each other.”
“Help?” Mark shook his head. “Or use me? And then use Natasha?”
“At first we truly did just want to be near you,” Sergey Yevgenyevich said, eyes lowered. “But then it got worse. We needed money to cover the loans. And we started to fear Natasha would figure it out—that she’d take you away from us.”
“I never wanted to take Mark away,” Natasha said quietly. “I just wanted us to live our own lives.”
“We knew that,” Sergey Yevgenyevich admitted. “And that’s why you frightened us. You’re strong. Independent. Valeria saw that sooner or later you’d insist on moving out.”
Valeria Romanovna exhaled.
“I crossed every line,” she said. “That letter…” She shook her head. “There’s no excuse.”
“There’s no excuse for either of us,” Sergey Yevgenyevich agreed. “But maybe… we still have a chance to fix something.”
Mark looked overwhelmed. He turned to Natasha.
“I don’t even know what to say,” he murmured. “How do I ask forgiveness for being blind—for not seeing what you were living through every single day?”
Natasha walked over and sat beside him.
“Mark, I’m not innocent either,” she said softly. “I should’ve spoken to you openly from the start instead of enduring it and staying silent.”
“So what do we do now?” Mark asked, staring at the empty space in front of him.
The room fell silent. Finally Natasha spoke.
“Let’s start over,” she said. “Honestly. Openly. No manipulation.”
A week later, Natasha was sitting in a café waiting for Irina. Her thoughts were far away.
“Well? Tell me everything!” Irina dropped into the chair across from her. “I’m dying of curiosity. What did you decide?”
Natasha smiled.
“Mark and I talked for a long time. A very long time. I think for the first time, truly honestly.”
“And?”
“I accepted the job offer. I’m moving to the Northern branch in two weeks.”
“And Mark?” Irina looked worried.
“And Mark…” Natasha paused. “Mark is coming with me. He already found a job at a transport company there. He said he wants a clean slate—without his parents’ influence, without the weight of old choices.”
“Seriously?” Irina looked pleasantly shocked. “And the apartment? His parents?”
“We’re redoing the paperwork,” Natasha said. “The apartment will be in Mark’s name and mine—just like his grandmother wanted. And we’ll help his parents financially. Sergey Yevgenyevich took a security job, and Valeria Romanovna will tutor students part-time. They’ll stay in the apartment, and we’ll ‘rent’ them our share for a symbolic fee.”
“And you think it’ll work?” Irina asked skeptically.
“You can’t be one hundred percent sure of anything,” Natasha said thoughtfully. “But at least we started talking—really talking. Mark finally saw how his parents have been manipulating him for years. And his parents, it seems, realized they went too far.”
“And you?” Irina asked quietly. “Did you forgive them?”
Natasha considered.
“I don’t know if I’d call it forgiveness,” she said slowly. “More like I chose to move forward. Build my life without looking back. Valeria Romanovna even apologized to me. I can’t say it felt completely sincere—but the fact she did it at all…”
“That’s incredible,” Irina shook her head. “And all because of a few letters?”
“It wasn’t the letters,” Natasha corrected. “It was Mark finally deciding to look the truth in the face. He told me he always felt his parents controlled him too much, but he couldn’t find the strength to stand up to them. Grandma’s letters were just the last push.”
“And Viktor? Did he help?”
“A lot,” Natasha nodded. “Not only did he find the letters—he talked to Mark too. It turns out they were close as kids, until Valeria Romanovna decided Viktor was ‘a bad influence’ on her son.”
Irina sighed.
“What a story… a whole family saga. And you’re really ready for that kind of change? A new city, a new job…”
“Strangely, I feel relieved,” Natasha admitted. “For the first time in a long time, Mark and I are actually together—not just living under the same roof, but supporting each other and making plans.”
“And if things don’t work out up north? If you want to come back?”
“Then we’ll come back,” Natasha said simply. “But under different conditions. No manipulation, no toxic dynamics. Maybe we’ll even build a normal relationship with his parents. Time will tell.”
“I’m going to miss you,” Irina sighed.
“I’ll miss you too,” Natasha smiled. “But I promise I’ll visit. And I’ll write. And I’ll call.”
A year passed. Natasha stood by the window of their new apartment, watching the first snow fall. The Northern town turned out to be cozy—friendly people, a calm rhythm of life. Her work at the new branch was interesting and full of promise, and Mark—unexpectedly—had a real talent for logistics and moved up quickly at the transport company.
The doorbell pulled her from her thoughts. On the doorstep stood Valeria Romanovna and Sergey Yevgenyevich with suitcases.
“Are we too late?” Valeria Romanovna asked, an unfamiliar uncertainty in her voice.
“No, you’re right on time,” Natasha smiled and stepped aside to let them in. “Mark will be home from work soon—he’ll be happy to see you.”
Over the year, a lot had changed. The in-laws had gradually paid down their debts and started rebuilding their lives. Valeria Romanovna really had begun tutoring and discovered she enjoyed teaching. Sergey Yevgenyevich, after working security for a while, found a consulting position in a company focused on safety and security.
Their relationship with their daughter-in-law remained cool but polite. They called once a month, exchanged news. And now they had come for a weeklong visit—the first in a year.
“It’s very cozy here,” Valeria Romanovna noted, looking around. “Almost like home.”
Natasha smiled, noticing how her mother-in-law had changed—softer, calmer, less sharp.
“We tried to make it comfortable for you,” she said, guiding them to the guest room.
That evening, when Mark came home, the four of them sat down for dinner. At first, the conversation didn’t flow, but gradually the atmosphere warmed.
“We want to tell you something,” Sergey Yevgenyevich began after the meal. “Valeria and I have reconsidered a lot this year. And we want to apologize—truly, not just for show.”
Valeria Romanovna nodded.
“I was a terrible mother-in-law,” she said. “And a bad mother too, if we’re being honest. I didn’t let Mark live his own life, make his own choices. I thought I was protecting him—doing what was best. But I was only harming him.”
Natasha exchanged a glance with Mark. They hadn’t expected such an open confession.
“Mom… Dad…” Mark looked moved. “It matters to us that you understand. That we can move forward.”
“And there’s one more thing,” Sergey Yevgenyevich said, looking embarrassed. “We’ve decided to sell you our share of the apartment. To you. For a symbolic price. It should belong to you—just like Grandma wanted.”
“But where will you live?” Mark asked, surprised.
“We found a small apartment near the center,” Valeria Romanovna smiled. “Close to my new job. I got a position at a learning center—can you imagine? I’ll be teaching math.”
“And I found a steady job as a consultant,” Sergey Yevgenyevich added. “We have enough to live on and keep paying off what’s left of the debts.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Natasha said, genuinely surprised.
After dinner, when the in-laws went to their room, Mark wrapped his arms around Natasha.
“Can you believe how they’ve changed?” he said quietly. “I don’t recognize my mother.”
“People change,” Natasha smiled. “If they’re given a chance. And if they truly want it.”
“Thank you,” Mark said seriously. “For not leaving back then. For giving all of us a chance.”
“We all had to change,” Natasha said, leaning into him. “Me too. I learned to say what’s bothering me instead of storing up resentment.”
They stood at the window, watching the snow fall. Somewhere out there—under drifts and swirling wind—old hurts and misunderstandings were being buried. Ahead was a new chapter, without manipulation or toxicity, but with support and understanding.
“By the way,” Natasha said, turning to her husband, “we might need one more room soon.”
“What for?” Mark blinked.
“For a nursery,” Natasha smiled, watching his face transform. “The test was positive. I took it twice.”
Mark froze for a moment, then lifted her into his arms and spun her around the room.
“Is it true? We’re going to be parents?”
“Yes,” Natasha laughed. “But promise me one thing.”
“Anything!”
“Let’s never say to our kids: ‘Of course we’re giving you an apartment—but we’ll be living there with you.’”
Mark burst out laughing, holding her tighter.
“I promise. Never in my life!”
Behind the guest room door, Valeria Romanovna smiled when she heard their laughter. She returned quietly to her husband.
“They’re happy, Sergey. Truly happy.”
“Yes,” Sergey Yevgenyevich nodded. “And it looks like we finally learned not to get in the way of their happiness.”
“Better late than never,” Valeria Romanovna said thoughtfully, feeling a real sense of peace for the first time in a long while.
Outside, the snow kept falling, covering the town in a white blanket—as if giving everyone the chance to start with a clean slate.