— “I’ve already promised your apartment to our relatives,” said her future father-in-law before the wedding. “You’ll live with us and Mother.”
Anastasia froze in the middle of the room, a box of wedding invitations in her hands. There were only three days left until the ceremony, and she had come to her future in-laws’ house to discuss the final details. Georgy Pavlovich, Vitaly’s father, stood by the window with his back to her, and his words sounded casual, as if he were talking about the weather.
“Excuse me, what?” she asked, certain she had misheard.
“The apartment you and Vitaly bought with a mortgage — I’ve already promised it to my nephew Igor. His wife’s pregnant, they need it more. You two are young; you’ll live with us for now. Vitaly agrees.”
The box slipped from Anastasia’s hands, scattering a white fan of invitations across the floor.
“Vitaly… agrees?” her voice sounded foreign to her. “Agrees to WHAT?”
Georgy Pavlovich turned, annoyance flashing in his eyes at the need to explain what he thought was obvious.
“Nastenka, don’t dramatize. The apartment is registered in Vitaly’s name; he has the right to do with it as he sees fit. Igor will move in a month after your wedding. By then you’ll have settled in with us.”
“But… the down payment was from MY parents! I sold my grandmother’s jewelry! We saved for two years!”
“Money is just paper,” Georgy Pavlovich waved her off. “Family is forever. Igor is our blood, and Vitaly understands that.”
At that moment, Vitaly himself appeared in the doorway. He looked pale and avoided meeting Anastasia’s eyes.
“Nastya, Father’s right. It’s really hard for Igor right now…”
“Hard?” Anastasia felt a surge rise inside her so powerful it was hard to breathe. “And it’ll be easy for us to live in a walk-through room at your parents’?”
“Not a walk-through,” corrected Klavdia Sergeyevna, Vitaly’s mother, who had followed him in. “In the former nursery. We’ve already prepared it for you. We even redid the wallpaper — pink, very sweet.”
Anastasia looked at the three people standing before her as a united front and realized — this wasn’t a sudden decision. It was a plan that had been discussed behind her back for who knows how long.
“Vitaly,” she said, addressing only her fiancé and ignoring his parents, “tell me plainly: are you really giving OUR apartment — the one we’ll be paying off for fifteen more years — to your cousin?”
“Not giving, just temporarily…” he began, but Georgy Pavlovich cut him off:
“No ‘temporarily.’ Igor is moving in for good. And enough of these hysterics, Anastasia. In our family, such matters are decided by the head of the family — that’s me. Vitaly understands this, and I advise you to accept our rules, since you plan to become part of the Krasnov family.”
“Part of the family?” Anastasia laughed — a sharp, bitter laugh that made all three of them uneasy. “You’ve just taken my home from me and offered me a pink-walled nursery instead, and I’m supposed to be grateful for the honor of joining your family?”
“Nastya, please…” Vitaly took a step toward her, but stopped when he saw her eyes.
“DON’T COME NEAR ME!” she shouted so loudly that the glass in the cabinet rattled. “You’re a traitor! A coward! You sold our future for your daddy’s approval!”
Klavdia Sergeyevna threw up her hands.
“Vitalik, what is this! We wanted to discuss things calmly, and your fiancée behaves like a market woman!”
“A market woman?” Anastasia turned to her. “A MARKET WOMAN? Yes, I’m bargaining — for my life, for my dignity, for the right to live in my own home instead of a pink cage under your supervision!”
“Anastasia, you forget yourself,” said Georgy Pavlovich coldly. “In my house, people don’t raise their voices.”
“And in my house, people don’t steal!” she shot back. “Because this is theft — plain, shameless theft!”
“How dare you!” cried Klavdia Sergeyevna. “We’re honest people!”
“Honest? HONEST?” Anastasia grabbed her purse from the table. “You conspired behind my back to take our apartment! You manipulated Vitaly, knowing he’s too weak to stand up to you! You turned him into a doormat!”
“Enough, Nastya!” Vitaly finally found his voice. “Don’t you dare insult my parents!”
“What, does the truth hurt?” she turned to him. “Look at yourself! Thirty-two years old, and still Daddy’s puppet! He pulls the strings, and you dance!”
“Control your fiancée, Vitaly,” Georgy Pavlovich hissed. “Or I’ll do it myself.”
“Try it!” Anastasia stepped toward him. “GO AHEAD! What will you do — throw me out? I’ll leave myself! But first you’ll listen!”
She swept her gaze over all three of them.
“You know what’s most disgusting about all this? Not that you took the apartment — but that you did it behind my back! You smiled at me, called me daughter, accepted gifts from my parents, while already dividing our property!”
“It’s Vitaly’s property,” Georgy Pavlovich repeated stubbornly.
“Bought with MY money!”
“It’s registered in his name.”
“Because I TRUSTED him!” Anastasia turned to Vitaly. “I believed you! I thought we were a team! And you… you didn’t even warn me! Didn’t even try to protect what was ours!”
Vitaly stood silent, head bowed — and that silence was worse than any words.
“You know what?” Anastasia pulled out her phone. “I’m calling my father. He should know what kind of family his daughter is marrying into.”
“There’s no need to call anyone,” said Georgy Pavlovich quickly. “Let’s settle this among ourselves.”
“Among ourselves? You’ve already settled it — without me!”
She dialed, but Vitaly snatched the phone from her hand.
“Nastya, stop! Don’t humiliate me in front of my parents!”
“Humiliate you?” she repeated in disbelief. “I’m humiliating you? You’ve already humiliated yourself! You’re spineless! You’re worthless!…”
The slap rang out in the silent room like a gunshot.
Klavdia Sergeyevna, who had struck Anastasia, quickly pulled her hand back.
“In our house, no one insults our son!”
Anastasia pressed her palm to her burning cheek — then burst out laughing.
“So that’s the true face of the ‘respectable’ Krasnov family! Resorting to violence!”
“Mother, why would you…” began Vitaly, but his father interrupted him.
“She did the right thing. This girl has forgotten her place.”
“My place?” Anastasia straightened up. “My place? Do you know where my place is? Definitely not in your family!”
She tore the engagement ring from her finger and threw it at Vitaly.
“The wedding is off!”
“Nastya, have you lost your mind?” He tried to catch the ring, but it rolled under the sofa. “The wedding’s in three days! The guests are invited!”
“Let them come! You’ll tell them the bride was unworthy of the great honor of joining the noble Krasnov family!”
“Anastasia, come to your senses,” Georgy Pavlovich said, changing his tone to a conciliatory one. “You’re saying foolish things in anger — you’ll regret it later.”
“Regret it? The only thing I regret is not seeing through you sooner!”
“We’re willing to compromise,” Klavdia Sergeyevna said quickly. “You can live with us for a year, and then, perhaps…”
“No!” Anastasia shouted. “No compromises! No ‘perhaps’! You’ve shown your true colors — and for that, I’m even grateful!”
She turned to Vitaly.
“And you… I thought you loved me. But you’re not capable of love — only obedience!”
“Nastya, I love you…”
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare say those words! A loving man doesn’t betray — he doesn’t let his woman be humiliated!”
“But they’re my parents…”
“And I was supposed to be your wife! Your wife! But you chose them!”
Georgy Pavlovich stepped between them.
“That’s enough. Anastasia, you’re behaving hysterically. Leave and come back when you’ve calmed down.”
“Calm down?” she laughed through her tears. “I won’t calm down! I’ll boil — with anger, with disgust, with the thought that I almost tied my life to this… this nothing!”
“Don’t you dare speak that way about my son!” Klavdia Sergeyevna shouted again.
“Oh, isn’t it the truth? Look at him! Thirty-two years old and can’t make a single decision without Daddy’s approval! He betrayed the woman who was about to become his wife! And for what? So Daddy could pat him on the head?”
Vitaly clenched his fists.
“Nastya, get out. Get out right now.”
“With pleasure! But first, one more thing!” She turned toward all three of them. “You think you’ve won? You think taking the apartment will make me an obedient daughter-in-law? No! You’ll get war!”
“What nonsense…” Georgy Pavlovich began, but she cut him off.
“The apartment is registered in Vitaly’s name, but the mortgage is in both our names! I’m a co-borrower! The payments came from my account! I have all the documents, all the receipts! I’m going to court!”
“You won’t,” said Georgy Pavlovich confidently. “A scandal, public attention… your parents couldn’t handle the shame.”
“My parents? And you think your reputation will survive? The esteemed university professor Georgy Pavlovich Krasnov tricked his son’s fiancée out of her apartment! How do you think your rector will like that? Your colleagues?”
Georgy Pavlovich’s face turned crimson.
“You’re blackmailing me?”
“I’m defending myself! You started this dirty game!”
Klavdia Sergeyevna clutched her heart.
“Vitaly, what kind of girl have you brought to us? She’s a fury!”
“Yes, I’m a fury!” Anastasia shot back. “And you made me one! I came here kind, trusting, loving — and you trampled it all!”
“Nastya, please…” Vitaly tried to take her hand, but she jerked it away.
“Don’t touch me! And you know what? Your precious cousin Igor — I know everything about him! I know this is his third marriage! I know he has children from his previous wives that he doesn’t support! And that his so-called ‘pregnant wife’ is just a woman he’s living with — not even legally married to!”
“How do you…” began Klavdia Sergeyevna.
“I have friends who know how to find things out! And if you think I’ll let that gigolo live in my apartment—”
“It’s not your apartment!” roared Georgy Pavlovich.
“Oh, we’ll see about that!” Anastasia pulled a folder of papers from her bag. “Here — copies of every payment! Receipts! The purchase agreement clearly states the down payment of three million rubles came from my parents!”
“But the apartment is in Vitaly’s name,” Georgy Pavlovich repeated stubbornly.
“So what? You think that gives you the right to steal it? I’ll hire lawyers — the best lawyers — and we’ll see what the court says!”
“Anastasia, let’s not rush…” Klavdia Sergeyevna’s voice trembled now.
“What’s wrong — getting scared? Scared everyone will find out? That your neighbors, who think you’re such decent people, will hear the truth? That the university where you, Georgy Pavlovich, teach ethics will learn who you really are?”
“That’s slander!”
“It’s the truth! And I’ll tell everyone! I’ll post it online! Let the whole world know what kind of people the Krasnovs are!”
Vitaly grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Nastya, stop! You’ll destroy everything!”
“Destroy what?” she tore herself free. “You already destroyed everything — our love, our future, our family!”
“But we can still fix it…”
“Fix it? How? By giving the apartment to your cousin and having me live in a pink-walled nursery under your mother’s supervision? With your father deciding how many children we’ll have and how we’ll raise them?”
“Nastya…”
“No! Do you know what I’ve realized? You’ll never be my husband! You’ll always be their son! And I’ll just be an accessory — powerless, voiceless, unnecessary!”
Georgy Pavlovich stood up.
“That’s enough! Get out, Anastasia! And don’t come back!”
“With pleasure! But this isn’t over yet! You’ll hear from me — and from my lawyers!”
She headed for the door, then turned back.
“And you know what’s funniest? You could’ve had a loving daughter-in-law — someone who would have cared for you in your old age, who would have given you grandchildren. But you chose war. So you’ll get it!”
“Nastya, wait!” Vitaly ran after her.
“Don’t follow me!” she shouted, already standing in the hallway. “And don’t call! Don’t write! To me, you’re dead! All of you are dead to me!”
She slammed the door so hard that a framed photo of the Krasnov family fell from the wall.
Six months later.
Vitaly sat in the courtroom, barely recognizing the woman he had once planned to marry.
Anastasia looked composed, confident, determined. Beside her sat an expensive lawyer with thick folders of documents neatly arranged in front of him.
Georgy Pavlovich nervously tugged at his tie.
Klavdia Sergeyevna kept dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Igor — the cousin who never moved into the disputed apartment — sat in the back row, looking lost.
“Your Honor,” said Anastasia’s lawyer, “we have presented indisputable evidence. The down payment for the apartment was made by my client’s parents. All mortgage payments were made from her account. My client is a co-borrower on the mortgage agreement. In fact, she covered more than seventy percent of the apartment’s cost.”
“But the apartment is registered in my son’s name!” burst out Georgy Pavlovich.
“Please, the respondent will not disrupt the proceedings,” the judge said sternly.
The lawyer continued,
“Moreover, we have witness testimony that the respondent planned to transfer ownership of the property to a third party without the plaintiff’s knowledge or consent. This constitutes fraud.”
“That’s slander!” Georgy Pavlovich shouted, leaping to his feet.
“We have an audio recording,” said the lawyer calmly, taking out a recorder. “Made by the plaintiff during her conversation with the respondent’s family.”
Vitaly turned pale. He hadn’t known that Nastya had recorded that fateful conversation on her phone.
The courtroom listened in dead silence.
Georgy Pavlovich’s voice — promising the apartment to Igor — sounded like a sentence being read aloud.
“Your Honor,” rose the Krasnovs’ lawyer, “that was merely a family quarrel. Emotions—”
“Emotions?” Anastasia stood. “Your Honor, may I speak?”
“Go ahead.”
“I loved this man. I trusted him — so much that I agreed to register our shared apartment in his name. And he and his family took advantage of that trust. They tried to turn me into a powerless servant, living in their home at their mercy. When I resisted, they called me hysterical. His mother struck me in the face. And all of this — out of greed. Out of the desire to control. Out of the belief that a woman should silently endure any humiliation.”
She turned to Vitaly.
“I’m not asking for much. Only justice. The apartment should be sold, and the proceeds divided according to our contributions. That’s fair.”
The judge nodded.
“The court will recess for deliberation.”
An hour later, the verdict was announced:
The apartment was to be sold. Seventy percent of the proceeds were awarded to Anastasia, thirty to Vitaly.
Additionally, the respondents were ordered to pay compensation for moral damages.
Georgy Pavlovich collapsed onto the bench.
Klavdia Sergeyevna burst into tears.
Vitaly sat motionless, staring at a single point on the floor.
“Nastya…” he tried to approach her after the hearing.
“Don’t call me that,” she said coldly. “To you, I am Anastasia Vladimirovna.”
“I want to apologize…”
“Too late. You made your choice six months ago. Now live with it.”
She turned and walked toward the exit. At the door, a tall man was waiting for her with a bouquet of flowers.
“How did it go?” he asked, embracing her.
“Justice prevailed, Maxim,” Anastasia smiled.
Vitaly watched them walk away together and realized — he had lost everything.
The apartment would have to be sold.
His father’s reputation was ruined — the story had made it into the university newspaper.
Igor, learning he wouldn’t get the apartment, had vanished.
His parents hadn’t spoken to him for a month, blaming him for ever “getting involved with that schemer.”
And Anastasia… Anastasia had begun a new life — one without lies, betrayal, or humiliation.
And she was happy.
Georgy Pavlovich was the last to leave the courtroom.
At the university, a disciplinary inquiry awaited him.
Colleagues turned away when they passed him in the halls.
Students whispered behind his back.
“This is all your fault,” he hissed at his son as he walked past. “You couldn’t choose a normal, obedient girl.”
Vitaly said nothing.
He knew — he had chosen the right woman: smart, strong, courageous.
He just hadn’t been man enough to stand by her.
And now he was paying for his cowardice — with loneliness, in the pink nursery of his parents’ house, from which, it seemed, he would never escape.
