Raisa Alexandrovna had never imagined she would one day have to prove her right to the apartment she had lived in for thirty-two years. Least of all to her own husband.
“You want to transfer the apartment to your son as a gift?” the notary asked briskly.
“Exactly,” Viktor Stepanovich replied with a nod.
Raisa smiled. Their son was the very reason all those years of saving, sacrificing, and working two jobs had felt worth it.
“There is just one complication,” Viktor added suddenly. “I’ll be the one signing the gift deed. The apartment is registered in my name.”
“What do you mean, in your name?” Raisa turned to him in confusion. “It belongs to both of us…”
“No, dear,” he said with a smug grin. “If you look closely at the paperwork, you’ll see that I’m the sole owner.”
“But we bought it together! I worked two jobs for that place!”
“And where’s the proof?” her husband asked coolly. “Now I want to gift half of the apartment to our son. The other half will remain mine.”
“And what about me?” Raisa’s hands began to shake.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” he said. “I’ve simply decided to put everything in its proper place. The documents speak for themselves.”
The room seemed to sway around her. Could this really be happening?
“Raya, why are you so upset?” Viktor said lightly. “It’s only a formality. The apartment has always been in my name. I’m the head of the family.”
“Things change,” Raisa said quietly.
She remembered how, three months earlier, Vitya had started coming home late, how strange phone calls had begun appearing.
“Wait,” she said suddenly. “I want to check something.”
She opened an old handbag and pulled out a folder tied with string.
“What is that?” Viktor asked, startled.
“This, Vitенька,” Raisa answered calmly as she untied the knot, “is called being prepared. My mother taught me all my life to keep every document.”
She took out a stack of yellowed papers.
“These are the receipts for the down payment. The payer’s name is Raisa Alexandrovna Korneeva. And here are the records from my savings book. Every month, without fail, the amount equals half of the monthly mortgage payment. For fifteen years.”
The notary studied the papers carefully.
“And here is something else,” Raisa said, pulling out a bank certificate confirming the mortgage had been paid off. “Look at the account details.”
“This account belongs to…” the notary began.
“To me,” Raisa finished. “It’s my personal account. Vitya was ill at the time, and I made the final large payment for the apartment myself. In full.”
Viktor Stepanovich turned pale.
“I have to tell you,” the notary said, “that under the law, anything purchased during a marriage is considered joint property. Especially when there is clear proof that Raisa Alexandrovna also contributed financially.”
“What kind of dispute are you talking about?” Viktor protested.
“Well, I may very well start one,” Raisa said unexpectedly, her voice steady. “If you insist that the apartment belongs only to you.”
“Raya, you’re afraid to say a single sharp word. What complaint are you even talking about?”
“People change,” Raisa said, looking him straight in the eyes. “Especially after betrayal. Why are you doing this, Vitya? Tell me honestly.”
“I need freedom,” he said at last.
“To discuss things with whom? With her?” Raisa asked quietly.
Viktor jerked slightly.
“You know?”
“I’ve guessed. How long?”
“Six months. She… she’s younger.”
The notary cleared her throat.
“So the apartment is legally shared, and I have the same rights as my husband. Is that correct?” Raisa asked.
“Absolutely,” the notary confirmed.
“You’re planning to divorce me, aren’t you?” Raisa asked bluntly. “That’s why you decided to claim the apartment in advance?”
Viktor lowered his eyes.
“I love another woman,” he finally admitted. “I want to start over. I have that right.”
“You do,” Raisa said. “And I have the right to half of our apartment. And I will get it.”
“How are we supposed to divide it?” Viktor snapped. “Build a wall through the middle of the room?”
“We’ll sell it and split the money.”
At that moment, Raisa realized she felt neither pain nor resentment. Only relief — and determination.
“Does Misha know?” she asked.
Viktor shook his head.
“I’ll call him today. He needs to hear it from me.”
“I’m going to tell him the truth,” Raisa said. “That you found another woman, want a divorce, and tried to cheat me out of the apartment.”
“I wasn’t throwing anyone out!” Viktor said angrily.
“There’s nothing left to discuss,” Raisa replied, rising to her feet and carefully fastening her bag. “Everything is already clear. I’m filing for divorce and division of property. And I truly wish you happiness in your new life.”
She said it without bitterness. And the moment the words left her lips, she understood she meant them.
Let him be happy — with anyone he chose, as long as it was no longer with her.
Because she deserved more.