THE APARTMENT
“Alina, open the door!”
Valentina Petrovna’s voice sliced through the silence like metal on glass.
Alina rolled her eyes, dropped the knife on the counter, and whispered a curse to the half-cut onion waiting to become dinner. Of course. Perfect timing for a disaster.
“Coming…” she said sweetly, stretching a fake smile across her face like cheap plastic.
She already knew the script: the heavy, judging stare, the theatrical sigh, and the inevitable sermon about how a “real woman” keeps the home spotless instead of “wasting time online.”
She opened the door.
“Valentina Petrovna! What a surprise.”
“Mm-hmm. A surprise. Like a punch to the ribs,” the older woman snapped, sliding in as if the apartment already belonged to her.
“Smells like onions… Don’t tell me you’re poisoning yourselves with frozen meals again?”
“It’s real borscht,” Alina replied through clenched teeth. “And yes, I cleaned this morning.”
“Imagine that.” The woman’s eyes scanned the hallway like a customs officer looking for contraband. “Deniska again working till night? Poor boy…”
Deniska. As if her thirty-five-year-old husband were still in kindergarten.
“Yes,” Alina said. “Your hero-manager is saving the world one construction site at a time.”
“That’s why he needs a proper home. A house.” Valentina narrowed her eyes. “This apartment is too small. Too suffocating.”
“If you’re suffocating, you’re free to visit your dacha,” Alina muttered, tossing the onion into the pot.
Valentina followed her into the kitchen like a shadow.
“Alina, enough sarcasm. We’ve talked with Denis. This apartment would make an excellent start-up capital. Sell it, buy a house. A man needs space to grow.”
“Grow at my expense?” Alina turned sharply.
“This apartment was left to me by my grandmother.”
“In a family there is no ‘mine and yours’!” Valentina declared grandly.
“Oh really? And is that why you still keep your mother’s ring in your private little box?” Alina shot back.
Valentina gasped.
“A character! Denis was right — you’re selfish! He deserves that house, he works like a mule!”
“And I’m what? A couch decoration?” Alina snapped.
Right then, the lock clicked.
“Mooom! You’re here already?” Denis stepped inside, kissed his mother, then frowned at Alina.
“What happened now?”
“Just discussing family,” Valentina said triumphantly.
“Translation,” Alina said, “forcing decisions behind my back.”
“Why such a tone?” Denis sighed. “Selling the apartment and buying a house makes sense.”
“For whom? For you and your mother? Where do I go?”
“Stop overreacting,” he muttered. “We’ll put the house in my name. It’s simpler paperwork. You trust me, don’t you?”
Alina stared at him so coldly he shifted.
“Trust you? After I heard you both calculating how much you’ll get per square meter?”
His face drained of color.
“You were listening?!”
“In my own home? Yes. Apparently that’s a crime.”
“Alina, quit the circus!” Valentina barked. “Sign the papers and live happily! Denis loves you, he won’t harm you!”
“Already did,” Alina said quietly. “Both of you.”
Her voice hardened.
“I’m not signing anything. And if needed, I’ll file for divorce.”
“Да подавай! Go ahead!” Valentina shrieked. “Let’s see how you survive alone!”
Alina calmly placed the kettle on the stove, her hands trembling only slightly.
“We’ll see.”
THE BREAK
“You let your precious mother steal thirty thousand?”
Alina stared at Denis, who was desperately trying to justify the unjustifiable.
“You’re insane,” he said through clenched teeth. “Why jump straight to ‘divorce’? Think for once!”
She was too tired to shout. Too tired to pretend.
“I am thinking,” she said quietly. “I’m thinking this is my last chance not to become a walking wallet for you and your mother.”
“Alina…” He reached for her hand. She pulled away.
“You blew this up into a war. It’s family!”
“In a real family,” she said, “a husband protects his wife. Not pushes her under a bulldozer to make room for Mommy’s dream of a gazebo.”
“You’ve changed,” Denis muttered darkly. “You used to be kind, cheerful… Now it’s all bitterness. You’re ruining our marriage.”
“This isn’t a marriage,” she said. “It’s a business plan. And I’m the idiot investor.”
The slam of his fist on the table sent her cup rattling.
“This apartment was a fluke!” he shouted. “If not for your grandma’s stupid will, what would you even be?!”
“A woman with boundaries,” Alina answered evenly.
“And those boundaries start now.”
She stood.
“I heard you whispering to your mother: ‘As soon as she signs, we’ll get the mortgage.’”
He went white.
“You were eavesdropping—”
“No. I was home.”
The doorbell rang sharply — like a warning shot.
“Of course. Reinforcements,” Alina muttered.
Denis opened the door, and Valentina stormed in, glowing with triumph.
“Well, Alinochka,” she chirped, “ready to be reasonable?”
Alina stared at her like at an unwanted tax inspector.
“Sweetie, listen…” Valentina purred, sugar dripping over venom. “If you love Denis, you must trust. This apartment is useless to you. A man must be the master.”
“The master? In my apartment?” Alina asked calmly.
“There you go again!” Valentina exploded. “It’s from your mother — clingy, selfish! No wonder you’ll end up alone!”
“Better alone,” Alina said, “than with you two.”
“You regret marrying me?” Denis asked quietly — dangerously.
“I regret not calling a lawyer sooner.”
Valentina choked.
“A… lawyer?!”
“He says as long as I’m the owner, you can only dream about that house.”
She looked at Denis.
“If you want a divorce, go ahead. I won’t beg.”
“You can’t survive alone!” Valentina screeched.
Alina smiled coolly.
“The lawyer disagrees.”
She turned, walked out of the room, and left them standing in stunned silence.
Behind her, Valentina shrieked:
“You will NEVER be the mistress of MY son’s house!”
Alina didn’t even look back.
“Good,” she said. “I already have my own.”
