– The apartment is spacious. My mother and my son will now be living with us, – my husband “cheered” me up.
Nastya laid another of Danila’s shirts on the bed and carefully hung it in the wardrobe. He had more things than she had expected, but there was enough space.
“Where’s the best place to put your books?” Nastya asked, holding a stack of technical literature.
“On the top shelf, if you don’t mind,” Danila replied, folding socks into the dresser. “Sweetheart, can you imagine how amazing it is that we’re living together now?”
Nastya smiled and nodded. Just yesterday he had proposed to her, and today they were already setting up their shared life. The three months until the wedding would fly by unnoticed.
“Danichka, don’t you regret deciding everything so quickly?” Nastya stroked his cheek.
“Not for a second,” Danila said, hugging her by the waist. “You’re the best girl in the world. A beauty like you should be cherished and never let go.”
Nastya pressed close to him, enjoying his warmth. She could hardly believe her happiness.
Three months later, the day finally arrived. Music played softly, and the guests danced and laughed. Nastya twirled in her pristine white dress with her husband at the center of the hall. Danila whispered compliments in her ear, and she blushed with pleasure.
“Dear newlyweds!” Elena Viktorovna, the mother-in-law, stood with a glass in her hand. “I want to say a few warm words about your wonderful couple.”
All the guests fell silent and turned their attention to the elegant middle-aged woman.
“Nastenka, my dear, you have given my son true happiness. Danila, my son, take care of this beautiful girl. May your love grow stronger every day!”
Nastya was touched by such a heartfelt address. Her mother-in-law had always been kind and welcoming to her.
“Thank you very much,” Nastya whispered as Elena Viktorovna came over to congratulate them personally.
“For what, my dear? We’re one family now.”
Three months of married life passed almost unnoticed. Nastya still wasn’t used to her new surname on official documents and sometimes forgot to respond to it.
There was a knock at the door.
“Elena Viktorovna!” Nastya smiled as she opened the door for her mother-in-law. “Come in, we’ve been expecting you.”
“Nastenka, my dear,” her mother-in-law greeted warmly. “How are you, my child?”
– The apartment is spacious. My mother and my son will now be living with us, – my husband “cheered” me up.
They went into the kitchen, where Danila was already sitting at the set table. Elena Viktorovna sat down next to her son, and they cheerfully began discussing family news.
“How’s work, my son?” asked the mother-in-law, serving herself some salad.
“Great, Mom, we launched a new project,” Danila replied, pouring tea. “And how are you?”
Nastya listened to their conversation and felt happy that they had such a close-knit family. But suddenly, Elena Viktorovna’s expression grew serious.
“Danila,” the mother-in-law said, putting down her fork. “It’s time to tell Nastya something.”
Nastya felt a tightening inside. Danila looked away and nervously rubbed his palms.
“Nastya, sweetheart,” her husband began quietly. “I have a son. He’s nine years old. His name is Artem.”
Nastya froze. The world around her seemed to stop. Danila continued speaking, but she barely processed his words.
“I was married before, but she left right after the divorce,” her husband’s voice trembled. “Artem has been living with his mother for three years.”
“Nastya, dear,” Elena Viktorovna intervened gently. “A child isn’t an obstacle to true love. If you really love Danila, this information won’t change anything, right?”
Nastya looked at both of them, unable to speak. Danila had never mentioned the child—not once during their entire relationship.
“Nastya, you’re so pale,” Elena Viktorovna noticed. “Have some water.”
Mechanically, Nastya took a glass. Her mind swirled with thoughts. Nine years. The child was nine years old. And Danila had hidden his son from her.
“Artem is a very good boy,” the mother-in-law continued softly. “Smart, well-mannered. You’ll love him, my dear.”
Nastya got up from the table and whispered weakly:
“I need a little time to think.”
Danila tried to take her hand, but Nastya pulled away and left the kitchen.
Elena Viktorovna left early, and Danila cautiously avoided his wife.
For three days, Nastya dwelled on what she had heard. Danila acted as if nothing had happened, joking at breakfast and talking about work. But she could see him secretly watching her.
“Danila,” Nastya said, setting down her cup of coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her husband smirked and shrugged.
“Not every girl wants a husband with a child from a previous marriage,” he answered calmly. “Especially with a child who doesn’t live with his mother.”
Nastya frowned. His indifferent tone struck a nerve.
“But what kind of trust can there be in a family if you hid such important information?”
Danila shrugged again and took a bite of his sandwich.
“I don’t see the problem. Now you know.”
Nastya looked at her husband and realized—he really didn’t see anything wrong with his behavior. This realization hit her harder than the news about the child.
Another three weeks passed. Nastya increasingly caught herself looking at her husband differently. The trust they had built over months crumbled in an instant. Every word he spoke now aroused suspicion. What else had he not told her?
Danila continued living his usual life—coming home from work, having dinner, watching TV—as if nothing had happened. His indifference to her feelings frustrated Nastya even more.
One evening, a heavy rainstorm poured down. Nastya was soaked to the bone by the time she walked from the bus stop to the apartment. Her keys trembled in her hands as she unlocked the door.
When the door opened, Nastya froze on the threshold. Boxes filled the hallway—lots of boxes. At least a dozen of various sizes, some still sealed with tape.
“Danila!” Nastya called, closing the door behind her. “What is all this?”
Her husband emerged from the second bedroom, holding a screwdriver. His hair was messy, and his t-shirt had dust stains.
“Oh, you’re home already,” Danila said, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “How was work?”
“Danila, what’s going on?” Nastya repeated, pointing to the boxes.
Her husband looked at her as if surprised by the question.
“My family is moving in here,” he said simply. “Into this apartment. Mom has already packed her things, and I’m preparing a room for Artem.”
Nastya froze by the entrance. Cold water from her soaked jacket dripped onto the floor, but she barely noticed. The world around her felt unreal.
“The apartment is spacious,” Danila continued, as if talking about the weather. “My mother and my son will now live with us. The second bedroom will be for my son, and my mother will live in the living room. We’ll need to buy a few more pieces of furniture, but it will all work out.”
Nastya kicked off her wet shoes and walked into the second bedroom. Danila followed. The room had been completely rearranged. New shelves lined the walls, her desk was pushed into a corner, and the bed had been dismantled and stored away.
“Why is this move even happening?” Nastya asked, looking at the changes.
Danila smirked and set the screwdriver on the windowsill.
“My mother is older and can’t take care of the child alone,” he explained indifferently. “She needs an assistant.”
“An assistant?” Nastya repeated.
“Yes, you’ll take care of cooking and cleaning, and my mother will watch the child,” Danila nodded. “And my son needs his mother’s help—you’ll be that for him.”
Nastya spun around sharply and walked into the kitchen. Her hands trembled as she poured water into a glass.
“Danila… did your son come with you?” Nastya asked, placing the glass on the table.
Danila raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“But he’s my child—practically ours already,” he said, as if explaining the obvious.
Nastya exploded. Everything that had built up over the past weeks poured out.
“I didn’t know about the child!” she shouted. “I didn’t sign up to raise a boy I don’t even know! I don’t even want my own kids yet, let alone someone else’s!”
Danila tried to interrupt, but Nastya didn’t let him get a word in.
“This apartment is mine from before the marriage. And without my consent, no one is moving in here!”
Danila lost his composure.
“You’re not a woman! You have no maternal instinct! A normal wife would support her husband!”
His face twisted with anger. Nastya saw a completely different person before her.
“Then why do you even need me if you don’t want to accept my son?” he shouted in her face.
For the first time, Nastya saw the truth. Danila had deliberately hidden everything to keep her tied to the marriage. He only wanted a mother for his child and the apartment.
“And what do I need you for?” Nastya asked coldly. “To ruin my life? Get out!”
“You’ve lost your mind!” Danila screamed. “We’re husband and wife!”
“We were,” Nastya cut in sharply. “Out of my house! Take your boxes and disappear!”
“Nastya, stop!” Danila yelled. “We need to talk calmly!”
“Talk?” Nastya laughed hysterically. “Really! We should have talked before the wedding!”
Soon, Nastya managed to drive the traitor out of her apartment.
The door slammed shut with a crash. Nastya turned the key and leaned against it with her back. Her legs gave way, and she slowly slid to the floor.
Outside, shouts and demands to open the door continued for a long time. Then there was silence. Nastya sat on the floor until morning, processing what had happened. Danila had used her. Simply used her.
Early in the morning, a locksmith was working in the apartment. Nastya had called him late last night, barely after Danila left. The man methodically drilled out the old locks and installed new ones.
“Quality locks, reliable,” the craftsman explained, showing the mechanism. “Hard to break.”
The sound of the elevator made Nastya tense. Elena Viktorovna stepped out of the cabin with a bouquet of flowers. Seeing what was happening, the mother-in-law froze.
“What is going on here?” Elena Viktorovna exploded, dropping the flowers. “Nastya, what are you doing? This is wrong! Danila is your husband! You’re proud and arrogant!”
The locksmith quickly packed up his tools and headed to the elevator, clearly not wanting to witness the family confrontation. Nastya picked up the new set of keys and calmly faced Elena Viktorovna.
“Yes, I am proud,” Nastya said, examining the shiny keys. “And I won’t let anyone wipe their feet on me.”
“How can you!” the mother-in-law continued to shout. “You’re destroying a family! And the child? Have you thought about the child?”
“The child should have been thought of by your son,” Nastya replied coldly.
Nastya stepped into the apartment and slammed the door, cutting off not only her mother-in-law’s screams but also all ties to that family.
