“Pack up your stuff and get out of here!” — the mother-in-law had come to drive Vika out of her own apartment.
Vika picked up a bag of groceries and slowly climbed to the fifth floor. September rain drummed on the stairwell windows, and her heart was at peace. Over the past six months since the divorce, life had finally settled down. No one demanded explanations about how she spent her money, no one criticized her cooking, and no one complained about messes that, truth be told, had never even been there.
The apartment had been given to Vika by her parents before she ever married. Her mom and dad had spent all their savings so their daughter would have a home. The paperwork was drawn up solely in Vika’s name, since a groom wasn’t even on the horizon back then. Two years later, a chance meeting with Andrei at work grew into a relationship, and then into marriage.
The marriage lasted four years. Andrei turned out to be a complicated man, fond of drinking with friends, always grumbling about a lack of money, yet making no effort to earn any. He worked as a metalworker in a factory but skipped half his shifts. Vika worked as an engineer at a design institute, earning more than her husband, but he saw that as an affront to his dignity.
“What kind of man lets his wife support him?” Andrei would grumble when his mood soured from another hangover.
“No one’s supporting you,” Vika would reply. “I just work steadily, and you keep skipping shifts.”
“My job is hard, not like yours — shuffling papers!”
They divorced in court, though there was nothing to divide. Andrei insisted on splitting the apartment, but the documents clearly showed the property belonged to Vika alone. The court dismissed the ex-husband’s claims, and he left for the village to live with his mother, Klavdia Semyonovna.
There, Andrei began telling the locals what a generous thing he’d done — how he could have claimed half the apartment but, out of pity for his ex-wife, had left it all to her. Klavdia Semyonovna listened to her son, growing ever more indignant. How could it be that her boy had sacrificed his right to a home for an ungrateful daughter-in-law, and she hadn’t even thanked him?
While she simmered jam from late apples, the woman made plans. She would go to the city and explain to that Vika who she owed her roof over her head to. Her son was too kind, didn’t know how to stand up for himself, but his mother would put the insolent girl in her place.
Vika was just taking out her keys when she heard footsteps on the landing. Turning around, she saw an elderly woman in a faded coat and worn-down boots. The face looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it right away.
“Who are you here for?” Vika asked politely.
“For you, dearie,” the stranger replied, suddenly raising her voice. “Pack up your things and get out! This is my son’s apartment, not yours!”
Vika froze; the keys slipped from her hands and clinked to the floor. Her mind refused to process what she’d just heard. Whose son? What was this about?
“Excuse me, who are you?” she stammered, bending to pick up the keys.
“Your mother-in-law, Klavdia Semyonovna!” the woman declared proudly. “Andrei’s mother! And I’m not here for apologies — I’m here for you to vacate someone else’s property!”
Blood rushed to Vika’s face. The gall of her ex-mother-in-law was so stunning that for the first few seconds she couldn’t find any words at all. Meanwhile, Klavdia Semyonovna squeezed past the stunned young woman and stepped into the hallway.
“Well, you’ve cluttered this place up,” the woman muttered, eyeing the neatly arranged shoes. “Andryusha said you were a slob, but this much…”
Vika snapped out of her shock, followed quickly, and shut the door behind her.
“Klavdia Semyonovna, leave my apartment at once!”
“What do you mean, your apartment?” the mother-in-law snorted. “My son magnanimously let you keep this place, though he could’ve taken half! And you? You didn’t even say thank you! Do you think you can treat family like that?”
The older woman went into the room and began inspecting the furnishings. She ran her hand over the sofa, checked the dust on the nightstand, peeked into the wardrobe.
“The furniture’s rubbish, of course, but it’ll do,” she concluded. “Andryusha will need it when he finds a new wife.”
Vika trailed the uninvited guest, still unable to believe what was happening.
“Do you seriously think this apartment belongs to Andrei?”
“Who else?” Klavdia Semyonovna looked surprised. “You lived together for four years! By law, everything acquired during marriage is split in half!”
“This apartment was bought before the marriage! With my parents’ money!” Vika’s voice trembled with indignation.
“Probably forged the papers,” the woman waved dismissively. “Or Andryusha, out of the goodness of his heart, put everything in your name. Men are such fools, falling for women’s tears.”
Klavdia Semyonovna opened the fridge and began examining its contents.
“You eat well, not scrimping. And my son sits out in the village with no decent job. Is that fair?”
Vika grabbed the sleeve of the coat and yanked her away from the refrigerator.
“That’s enough! Leave now, or I’ll call the police!”
“Oh, I’m so scared!” Klavdia Semyonovna laughed. “The police, really! And what will you tell them? That your mother-in-law came to visit her daughter-in-law?”
“Ex-daughter-in-law! Andrei and I are divorced!”
“Divorced, sure, but the debts remain,” the woman said slyly, narrowing her eyes. “Do you think I don’t know he owes you money?”
Vika was taken aback. Andrei had left her no debts — on the contrary, he was always borrowing small sums and never paying them back. But those pennies weren’t worth a quarrel.
“What debts are you talking about?”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to discuss,” Klavdia Semyonovna said with satisfaction, settling herself on the sofa. “Sit down, daughter-in-law, we’ll have a nice talk…”
Vika paced the room, thinking how to get rid of the intrusive guest as quickly as possible. Calling the police over an elderly woman seemed foolish, but she had no desire to put up with such behavior either.
“I’m listening, but not for long,” Vika said coldly, remaining standing.
“Right, we don’t have much time,” the mother-in-law nodded. “Tomorrow Andryusha will come for his things. By then you should pack and vacate the premises.”
“I’m not vacating anything! This is my apartment!”
“Yours, you say?” Klavdia Semyonovna dug into her handbag and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. “But here it says otherwise.”
Vika took the paper and scanned it. It was a photocopy of some bank statement, but she couldn’t make out the tiny print at first glance.
“What is this?”
“A certificate for a loan your husband took out against the apartment,” Klavdia Semyonovna announced triumphantly. “Two million rubles! And he can’t keep up with the payments — no job. The bank will soon be taking the apartment.”
Vika examined the document more closely. The paper looked suspicious: uneven font, a smudged stamp. But Andrei’s name did appear in the “borrower” field.
“Even if that’s true, the apartment is registered in my name. Nobody could use it as collateral without my consent.”
“Who said without consent?” the older woman smirked. “You were his wife, you signed whatever he asked. So you signed the pledge consent.”
“I never signed anything like that!”
“Ah, a woman’s memory,” Klavdia shook her head. “In four years you shuffled through so many papers, you can’t remember everything. Bankers are meticulous people; they don’t just give loans.”
Vika feverishly tried to recall what papers she might have signed during the marriage. A couple of times Andrei had asked her to sign some forms, saying they were for work. Could one of them have been a mortgage consent?
“Show me the original document,” Vika demanded.
“Why do you need the original?” the mother-in-law asked, surprised. “The copy shows the same thing.”
“A copy can be forged.”
“Oh, how suspicious you are!” Klavdia laughed. “Do you think I’m a swindler? I don’t need any of your schemes. I’m a simple, honest person.”
Vika walked around the room, trying to decide what to do next. Even if the document was fake, sorting it out would take time. Meanwhile, the woman felt like the mistress here, already making plans to evict her.
“All right, let’s assume the loan is real,” Vika said. “But the one who borrowed the money has to pay it back — that’s Andrei.”
“And how will he pay if he has no job?” Klavdia spread her hands. “So the bank will take the apartment. Surely you don’t want to end up on the street?”
“And what are you suggesting?”
“Here’s my proposal,” the mother-in-law said gravely. “You transfer the apartment to Andrei, he sells it, repays the bank, and what’s left you split fairly. You’ll get your share and can rent a place.”
Vika stopped and looked at her interlocutor intently. The plan was so brazen it almost inspired admiration.
“So I’m supposed to give up an apartment bought with my parents’ money so Andrei can settle his debts?”
“Well, not for free!” Klavdia was indignant. “You’ll get a share! Maybe enough for a room in a communal flat.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then the bank will take the apartment anyway, and you’ll get nothing at all. Besides, the debt will become yours too, since you lived in the marriage.”
Vika sat down in an armchair opposite the sofa. Her head spun at such audacity. Did people really believe they could come to someone’s home and demand their apartment?
“Klavdia Semyonovna, even if everything were as you say, I am not obliged to solve my ex-husband’s financial problems.”
“Not obliged, you say?” the woman leaned forward. “Who fed you, clothed you, gave you a roof over your head for four years?”
“Excuse me?” Vika couldn’t believe her ears. “Who fed whom?”
“Andrei, of course! A man in the house must support the family!”
“Andrei spent half the time unemployed! I paid for groceries, utilities, clothes!”
“Nonsense,” Klavdia waved a hand. “A man can’t live off a woman’s back. That’s against nature.”
“But he can come and demand someone else’s apartment?” Vika shot back sarcastically.
“Not someone else’s — rightfully his!” the mother-in-law raised her voice. “You lived together, so everything’s shared!”
Vika rose and went to the window. Outside, darkness had fallen; streetlights gleamed in the puddles. She longed to send the pushy guest packing, but the woman clearly wasn’t leaving willingly.
“You know what, Klavdia Semyonovna,” Vika turned to her, “let’s put an end to this farce.”
The woman walked to the writing desk and took a folder of documents from the drawer. Klavdia’s eyes followed every movement of her former daughter-in-law, clearly wary.
“Here’s the ownership certificate for the apartment,” Vika laid the document right in front of her. “Date of issue — a year and a half before I even met Andrei. Buyer — me. Seller — the developer. There have never been and are no other owners.”
Klavdia Semyonovna took the paper and began studying the stamps. Her face gradually darkened.
“And here is a certificate stating that the apartment was purchased with money gifted by my parents,” Vika continued, laying out the next document. “And here are bank statements showing the funds transferred to my account. Everything is honest, everything is legal.”
“So what?” the mother-in-law tried to snap back, but her voice faltered. “Andrei could have later made additional payments, done some improvements…”
“In four years of marriage, Andrei didn’t spend a single kopeck on this apartment,” Vika said firmly. “On the contrary, I paid for utilities, repairs, furniture — everything. Want to see the receipts?”
Klavdia Semyonovna looked around the room in distress, searching for another opening for attack.
“And the loan?” the woman remembered. “It was taken out against the apartment!”
“Show me the original loan agreement,” Vika suggested calmly.
“Why would I carry it around? It’s at home…”
“Then name the bank where the loan was issued.”
The older woman blinked rapidly, realizing she’d walked into a trap.
“I… I don’t remember exactly… Andrei told me, but I didn’t keep it in mind…”
“The contract number? The date it was signed?” Vika pressed.
“Why are you interrogating me?!” Klavdia Semyonovna exploded. “You threw my son out, and now you want to throw me out too?!”
“Andrei left on his own after the divorce. And I must ask you to leave my apartment immediately.”
“I won’t!” the mother-in-law shouted. “I’ll stay here until justice is done! My son worked all his life, and now some upstart gets the apartment!”
Vika picked up her phone and dialed the emergency services number.
“Hello, police? A stranger has entered my home, refuses to leave, and is making threats…”
Klavdia Semyonovna suddenly fell silent. The word police had a magical effect on her.
“What are you doing?” the woman hissed. “Why are you calling the cops?”
“Because you’re breaking the law,” Vika replied, without interrupting her conversation with the dispatcher. “Yes, I’m at home, waiting for the officers.”
The mother-in-law jumped up from the sofa and began pacing the room.
“I’m not some thief! I came to visit my daughter-in-law!”
“Ex–daughter-in-law,” Vika corrected. “And uninvited.”
“Cancel the call!” Klavdia demanded. “What will people say if they see me with the police?”
“You should have thought about that earlier.”
Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Vika opened it to see two precinct officers — a middle-aged man and a young woman.
“Did you call for a patrol?” the senior sergeant asked.
“Yes, come in. This woman entered my apartment without permission and refuses to leave.”
Klavdia Semyonovna shrank on the sofa, staring at the officers with frightened eyes.
“Show us the documents for the apartment,” the sergeant requested.
Vika handed over the certificate of ownership. The policewoman carefully examined the stamps and signatures.
“And who are you?” they asked the older woman.
“I… I’m the mother of her ex-husband…” Klavdia muttered.
“Do you have the right to be in this apartment?”
“Well… we’re relatives…”
“Former relatives,” Vika corrected. “After the divorce we have no family ties.”
“Do you have keys to this apartment?” the sergeant asked the mother-in-law.
The woman fumbled in her bag and pulled out a bunch of keys.
“Where did you get keys to someone else’s apartment?” the policewoman asked in surprise.
“My son gave them to me… when he was married…”
“After the divorce, the keys should have been returned,” the sergeant said sternly. “Hand them over to the owner.”
Klavdia reluctantly passed the keys to Vika, who slipped them into her pocket.
“Now leave the apartment,” the officer ordered. “And don’t show up here again without the owner’s permission.”
“And what about justice?” the mother-in-law whimpered. “My son worked for her for four years, and she gets the apartment!”
“Your son worked for himself and his family,” Vika replied coldly. “The apartment is mine because my parents bought it.”
“Family quarrels aren’t our department,” the sergeant said. “If there are property disputes, take them to court. For now, we’ll escort you out.”
Klavdia Semyonovna reluctantly rose from the sofa and headed for the exit, muttering curses at the ungrateful daughter-in-law. In the hallway, she turned for one last attempt:
“Andrei will come tomorrow — he’ll set everything straight!”
“Let him come,” Vika answered calmly. “Only he won’t get inside. Tomorrow I’m changing the locks.”
“You’ve no right!” the mother-in-law screeched.
“I have every right. This is my property.”
The officers led Klavdia Semyonovna out to the landing. Vika shut the door and turned the key in the lock. At last, silence returned to the apartment.
The next morning a locksmith replaced the lock. Vika deliberately chose a model with protection against picking and forced entry. The old keys no longer worked.
At noon her mobile rang. Andrei’s name lit up on the screen.
“What’s going on?” came her ex-husband’s indignant voice. “My mother came to you in good faith, and you called the police!”
“Your mother broke into my apartment and demanded that I move out,” Vika replied. “That’s called vigilantism.”
“That’s not your apartment! We lived together for four years!”
“So what? The place is mine, the papers are in my name.”
“You tricked me! You said your parents gave it to you, but I bet you bought it on credit!”
“Andrei, you saw these documents yourself when we got married. Or is your memory that bad?”
“I don’t remember any documents! Anyway, by law everything acquired during marriage is split in half!”
“The apartment was bought before the marriage. With my parents’ money. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Lies!” Andrei shouted. “I’ll hire a lawyer and take you to court!”
“Go ahead,” Vika replied indifferently. “Just be ready to pay the court fee. If you lose, you’ll also have to cover my legal costs.”
“We’ll see about that!” the ex-husband threatened and hung up.
Vika put the phone away and smiled. Andrei, of course, wouldn’t hire anyone. First, he didn’t have the money for a lawyer. Second, any attorney would immediately explain that his claims were baseless.
That evening Vika cooked pilaf and thought about how nice it was to live alone. No one criticized her cooking, demanded she redo things their way, or made scenes about money spent. She could watch her favorite movies, read late into the night, meet with friends.
At last, the apartment had become a home again, not a battlefield. Klavdia Semyonovna and Andrei belonged to the past, along with all the unpleasant memories. No one would dare show up demanding someone else’s property again.
The intercom buzzed. Vika picked up the receiver, but there was no answer to her “Who is it?” A minute later, the bell rang again.
“Who’s there?” Vika asked more sharply.
“Open up, police,” came the familiar voice of the sergeant.
Vika pressed the button. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. On the threshold stood the same precinct officer from yesterday, with his partner.
“Good evening. May we come in?”
“Of course,” Vika let the officers into the hallway. “Has something happened?”
“Klavdia Semyonovna has filed a complaint,” the policewoman explained. “She claims you unlawfully took possession of her property.”
Vika snorted with laughter.
“What property?”
“The keys to the apartment,” the sergeant replied seriously. “And that you supposedly evicted the rightful owner.”
“You saw the apartment documents yourself. And you ordered her to hand over the keys.”
“We did,” the sergeant agreed. “But we’re obliged to review the complaint.” He spread his hands. “Could you show the ownership certificate again?”
Vika brought out the folder with her papers. The sergeant carefully leafed through them all.
“Everything is in order,” the officer concluded. “The apartment is indeed yours. Klavdia Semyonovna’s complaint has no basis.”
“And will there be any punishment for her false report?” Vika asked.
“Most likely just a warning,” the sergeant replied. “She’s an elderly woman; she may not understand the finer points of the law.”
After the police left, Vika locked the door with every bolt. It seemed her mother-in-law was determined to fight to the end. But the documents spoke for themselves, and no complaints could change the truth.
A week later, the story took an unexpected turn. Returning from work, Vika saw Andrei near the building entrance. Her ex-husband looked rumpled and tipsy.
“What do you want?” Vika asked coldly.
“I need to talk,” Andrei muttered. “Peacefully.”
“What is there to talk about? Everything’s already settled.”
“My mother’s completely lost it,” Andrei complained. “All day she goes on about the apartment. The neighbors are giving us funny looks.”
“That’s your problem.”
“Listen, maybe you could actually help?” the ex-husband suddenly asked. “Not with money, but in some other way…”
“How, exactly?”
“I don’t know… give me some certificate that the apartment is yours. Let Mom calm down.”
Vika considered it. The idea seemed reasonable. Maybe after that Klavdia Semyonovna would finally back off.
“All right. Tomorrow I’ll bring a copy of the ownership certificate. Show it to your mother and explain the situation.”
“Thanks,” Andrei exhaled with relief. “It’s impossible to live like this.”
The next day Vika photocopied the documents and handed them to Andrei. No one called, knocked, or threatened again. Klavdia Semyonovna apparently finally realized that her scheme had failed.
Vika, relieved, crossed her former in-laws off her life for good. The apartment stayed exactly where it belonged — with its lawful owner. And the shameless attempt to seize someone else’s property had ended in complete failure.
