“The apartment is ours now! My son said so!” — the husband’s parents appeared on the doorstep with suitcases.
Nadezhda stood by the bank window, clutching the account statement in her hands. The figures blurred before her eyes from excitement. Seven million. A full seven million rubles.
“Nadya, well? What does it say?” Yevgeny came up behind her, peering over her shoulder. “Is it correct?”
“Yes, Zhenya…” Nadezhda’s voice trembled with joy. “We did it. We saved up!”
Yevgeny hugged his wife, pulling her close. Nadezhda closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne. For five years they had put away every kopeck, denying themselves vacations, entertainment, new clothes. And now at last their dream had come true.
“We’ll buy a three-room place in a quiet neighborhood,” Yevgeny whispered in her ear. “No more rented apartments.”
“No more landlords with their constant inspections,” added Nadezhda, turning in his arms.
She remembered all the humiliations they had endured: the landlady’s sudden visits in the middle of the night, bans on pets, constant demands to keep silent after nine p.m.
Two weeks later they stood in the spacious living room of a three-room apartment. Sunlight flooded the room through large windows. The fresh renovation pleased the eye with calm pastel tones.
“It’s ours,” Nadezhda couldn’t believe it. “Zhenya, it’s really ours!”
“Now you can stand on your head if you like,” Yevgeny laughed, spinning his wife around the room. “No one will come with complaints!”
Nadezhda walked from room to room, touching the walls as if to make sure they were real. A roomy bedroom overlooking a quiet courtyard. A cozy nursery — still empty, but she was already picturing a crib there. A kitchen with brand-new appliances.
“Where shall we put our sofa?” Yevgeny asked, pulling out a tape measure.
“Right here, by the window,” Nadezhda pointed to a corner of the living room. “And we’ll hang the TV opposite.”
The move went quickly. Every box brought them closer to a new life — a life in their own home.
That evening, when the last box was unpacked, Nadezhda collapsed onto the sofa, arms outstretched. Yevgeny sat down beside her, laying her feet across his lap.
“Tired?” he asked, massaging her feet.
“Happy,” Nadezhda corrected him. “Just unbelievably happy.”
The first months in their new apartment flew by in a single breath. Nadezhda threw herself into making their nest cozy. On weekends she and Yevgeny went furniture shopping, picking out a coffee table or new curtains. Every little thing brought joy.
“You know what I’ve been thinking?” Nadezhda said one evening, curled up in her husband’s arms on their new sofa.
“What?” Yevgeny stroked her hair.
“Maybe it’s time to think about children?” Nadezhda looked up at him. “We have our own place now. There’s a nursery.”
Yevgeny thought for a moment, then smiled.
“You’re right. It’s the perfect time.” He kissed the top of her head. “Can you imagine how wonderful it’ll be? A baby taking their first steps in our apartment.”
Nadezhda closed her eyes, picturing it: children’s laughter, scattered toys, drawings on the fridge. Their family would be complete.
Six months passed. A Saturday morning turned out especially cozy. Nadezhda was setting the breakfast table, humming to herself. Yevgeny had gone to the bakery for fresh rolls — their little Saturday tradition.
The doorbell caught her off guard. Nadezhda wiped her hands on her apron and went to open the door, thinking Yevgeny had forgotten his keys.
On the doorstep stood her husband’s parents. Beside them loomed five huge suitcases and several boxes.
“Hello, Nadya,” said her mother-in-law, Galina Petrovna, squeezing past the stunned young woman. “It’s not polite to keep guests standing on the threshold!”
Father-in-law Viktor Ivanovich began bringing in the suitcases. Nadezhda stood frozen, unable to move. What was happening? Why were they here — with all their things?
“Don’t just stand there like a post, help us!” Galina Petrovna ordered, taking off her coat.
Viktor Ivanovich dragged in the last box and shut the front door. Only then did Nadezhda find her voice.
“Wait… What… what on earth is going on?!” her voice cracked into a shout.
Galina Petrovna cast her a condescending glance.
“The apartment is ours now! My son said so!”
Nadezhda staggered. A rushing sound filled her ears. This was some kind of mistake. Impossible. Yevgeny couldn’t have…
The front door swung open. Yevgeny stood there with a bag of rolls.
“Mom? Dad?” He looked at his parents in surprise, then at his pale wife. “You’re here already?”
“Zhenya, what does this mean?!” Nadezhda rushed to her husband. “You knew? You knew they were coming?!”
“Nadya, let’s go into the living room,” Yevgeny took her by the elbow. “Let’s discuss everything calmly.”
Nadezhda pulled her arm free but followed him anyway. In the living room she sat down on the sofa, arms crossed. Yevgeny settled into an armchair opposite. His parents stayed in the hallway — apparently Yevgeny had asked them not to interfere.
“Nadya, listen,” Yevgeny began. “I really did agree to their moving in.”
“You… what?!” Nadezhda jumped up. “How could you?! This is our apartment! Ours!…”
“Sit down, please,” Yevgeny spoke calmly. “Let me explain. Andrei and Lena are having a baby soon.”
“So what? What does your brother’s life have to do with me?” Nadezhda remained standing, staring at her husband in confusion.
“The parents gave them their apartment. They need more space,” Yevgeny spread his hands. “And our parents had nowhere to go.”
“Nowhere?!” Nadezhda’s voice broke. “And what about asking me? What about my opinion?!”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t try to wipe them away. Everything had collapsed in an instant — their cozy nest, their plans for the future.
“Nadya, why are you dramatizing like this?” Yevgeny got up, tried to hug her, but she pulled away. “Everything will be fine. Mom’s a great cook; she’ll make meals for us. Dad will help with the balcony repairs.”
“I don’t want anyone cooking for me!” Nadezhda shouted. “I want to live in my own home! Just the two of us!”
“They’re not strangers,” Yevgeny frowned. “They’re my parents.”
“And who am I to you?!” Nadezhda looked at him through tears. “Nothing?!”
Yevgeny stayed silent. Nadezhda understood — there was nowhere for her to go. The apartment was registered to both of them, but in reality Yevgeny had already made the decision. For her. Without her.
Life changed completely. Galina Petrovna took over the kitchen, cooking whenever and whatever she pleased. Viktor Ivanovich occupied the living room, constantly watching television at full volume.
“Nadya, why isn’t the coffee ground?” her mother-in-law would ask in the mornings. “Zhenya only likes it ground.”
“Nadya, you came home late again,” her father-in-law reproached. “Decent wives are home by seven.”
Nadezhda stayed silent. What could she say? It wasn’t her home anymore. It was Yevgeny’s parents’ apartment, where she was graciously allowed to stay.
“Look what curtains I bought for your bedroom!” Galina Petrovna proudly displayed bright yellow drapes with ruffles.
“But we already have curtains,” Nadezhda objected weakly.
“Yours?” Her mother-in-law waved dismissively. “They’re dull. These are something else!”
Nadezhda watched as her carefully chosen décor disappeared under her mother-in-law’s taste. Treasured trinkets were replaced by tacky figurines. Beloved photos in frames gave way to portraits of Yevgeny’s distant relatives.
“Zhenya, talk to your mother,” Nadezhda begged in the evenings. “She’s rearranged all the furniture in the living room.”
“So what?” her husband brushed her off. “She likes it that way.”
“And me?!” Nadezhda tried to get through to him. “I don’t!”
“Stop inventing problems,” Yevgeny turned to face the wall. “You’ll get used to it.”
But Nadezhda didn’t. Every day it got worse. She stopped smiling. Laughter vanished completely. In the evenings she locked herself in the bedroom, lying face-down on the pillow.
“You look so pale,” a colleague remarked. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Nadezhda forced a smile. “Just tired.”
She tried to stay late at work. Home… could you even call a place home where you were nobody?
A year passed like that. Nadezhda lost weight, dark circles formed under her eyes. She moved through the apartment like a shadow, trying not to be noticed.
Her birthday crept up unnoticed. Nadezhda didn’t prepare. What was the point? No one would remember anyway.
At work, her colleagues didn’t know about her birthday — she hadn’t told anyone. Her phone stayed silent all day. Only in the evening came a message from her parents: “Sweetheart, happy birthday! Come visit us!”
Nadezhda didn’t hesitate. She got in the car and drove off. Her parents lived an hour away, in a small two-room apartment.
“Nadyusha!” her mother hugged her on the threshold. “You’re so thin! Come in quickly!”
On the table waited a cake with candles. Her father poured tea, her mother bustled with plates.
“Make a wish!” her mother lit the candles.
Nadezhda closed her eyes. I want to be happy. I want that by next year, on my birthday, I’ll be happy. She blew out the candles in one breath.
“What did you wish for?” her father asked.
“If I tell, it won’t come true,” Nadezhda tried to smile.
Her parents exchanged glances. They could see what had become of their daughter. But they stayed silent, not wanting to interfere.
Nadezhda returned home late. The lights were on, voices came from the kitchen.
“At last!” Galina Petrovna looked out into the hallway. “Where have you been? Who’s supposed to clean and wash the dishes?”
“I was at my parents’,” Nadezhda answered quietly.
“You could have warned us!” Viktor Ivanovich protested.
“Where’s Zhenya?” Nadezhda took off her coat.
“Lying on the sofa,” her mother-in-law waved a hand. “He’s tired from work.”
Nadezhda went into the living room. Yevgeny didn’t take his eyes off the TV.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” her husband grunted. “Where were you?”
“At my parents’.”
Nadezhda stood looking at her husband. He hadn’t remembered. None of them had remembered it was her birthday.
“Zhenya,” she called softly.
“What?” he finally looked at her.
“Do you know what day it is today?”
“Saturday,” Yevgeny shrugged. “Why?”
Nadezhda turned silently and went to the bedroom. A wave of anger rose in her chest. A year ago, she had made a wish. Now she understood — she would have to make it come true herself.
The next morning Nadezhda woke with a clear resolve. Enough. She wouldn’t endure it any longer. She wouldn’t stay silent.
“I’m leaving,” she said over breakfast.
“Where are you going?” Galina Petrovna didn’t understand.
“I’m leaving for good. From you. From Zhenya,” Nadezhda spoke calmly.
“What nonsense is this?!” Yevgeny flared up. “Nadya, what are you talking about?”
“Yesterday was my birthday,” Nadezhda looked him straight in the eyes. “No one remembered. No one cared.”
“So all this fuss is over a birthday?” her mother-in-law snorted. “As if that’s such an event!”
“It’s not about the birthday,” Nadezhda rose from the table. “It’s about the fact that I no longer want to be nobody in my own home.”
“This isn’t your home!” Galina Petrovna blurted out. “This is my son’s home!”
“Exactly,” Nadezhda nodded. “That’s why I’m leaving.”
She went to the bedroom to pack her things. Yevgeny rushed after her.
“Nadya, stop! You’re not serious!”
“More than serious,” Nadezhda was folding clothes into a suitcase.
“Where will you go?!” Yevgeny tried to snatch the suitcase from her hands.
“To my parents’. And then… then I’ll see.”
“Nadya, don’t be foolish!” her mother-in-law blocked the doorway. “A married woman can’t just get up and leave!”
“She can,” Nadezhda snapped the suitcase shut. “And she’s leaving.”
“You’re destroying the family!” Viktor Ivanovich shouted.
“No,” Nadezhda walked past him toward the door. “You destroyed it — a year ago, when you moved in here without my consent.”
The door slammed. Nadezhda descended the stairs, the suitcase banging painfully against her legs. But she didn’t stop. A strange calm spread through her chest. She had made her choice.
The divorce went through the court. Yevgeny didn’t want to divide the apartment, but Nadezhda insisted. By law, half its value belonged to her.
“You’ll leave my parents without a roof over their heads!” Yevgeny shouted in the courtroom.
“They have only themselves to blame,” Nadezhda answered calmly.
The apartment had to be sold. With her share of the money, Nadezhda bought a small Euro-style two-room flat in a new neighborhood — bright, cozy, her own.
The phone rang off the hook. Galina Petrovna, Viktor Ivanovich, Yevgeny — all accused her of destroying the family.
“You’re selfish!” her former mother-in-law yelled into the receiver.
“You brought it on yourselves,” Nadezhda replied and ended the call.
Standing by the window of her new apartment, Nadezhda smiled — for the first time in a long while.
Her next birthday she would celebrate happily. In her own home. Where she was the mistress of her life.
