“You’re not going anywhere from my apartment!” the mother-in-law declared to her daughter-in-law. “Who’s going to clean up after your husband’s father?”
“Come on, Yasya, sweetheart, think about it. Why should we hand thirty thousand over to some stranger every month?” Alexei put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and looked into her eyes with that pleading expression Yana rarely managed to resist. “Mom offered it herself. She’s alone now, she’s bored, and my old room is standing empty. We’d save a fortune!”
“Lyosha, we’ve only just started living normally, on our own.” Yana gently slipped out of her husband’s embrace and sat down on the edge of the sofa, straightening a stack of educational materials. She worked as a learning support tutor for children with special educational needs, so peace and quiet in the evenings was not merely a whim for her—it was essential. “Your mother… Galina Petrovna is a very domineering woman. You’ve said so yourself. Living there would be like sitting on a powder keg.”
“Oh, come on!” Alexei waved dismissively. He worked as a tower crane operator and was accustomed to looking down at the world from above, which made problems on the ground seem insignificant to him. “She’s changed. You saw how she treated us last weekend, didn’t you? Pastries, tea, ‘Yanochka, my dear daughter.’ She’s getting older and needs company. And within a year, we’ll save enough for a down payment. Just imagine it—our own apartment. Not a rental. Ours!”
Yana sighed. The dream of owning an apartment was their greatest weakness. Alexei knew exactly where to apply pressure.
It had all begun a couple of months earlier, when Galina Petrovna, Yana’s mother-in-law, visited their rented two-bedroom apartment for the first time. Before that, their relationship had been strained, but during that visit, it was as though she had suddenly decided to replace anger with kindness. She walked around the apartment, clicking her tongue approvingly, praising its cleanliness and admiring how Yana had arranged her workspace. Then, over mint tea, she casually remarked that her three-bedroom apartment was so empty that it practically echoed, while her children were forced to wander around other people’s homes.
“I don’t know, Lyosha,” Yana said quietly. “I have a feeling there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”
“What free lunch? She’s my own mother!” Alexei protested, but immediately softened his tone. “Let’s do this. We’ll visit Grandma in the village this weekend. Mom was planning to go there too. You’ll see them in their natural environment. If you sense even the slightest negativity, we’ll drop the whole idea. Deal?” Yana nodded. Her hope that they could all understand one another, combined with her husband’s desire to save money for their future, persuaded her to silence her intuition.
The trip to the village, where elderly Grandma Zinaida—Galina Petrovna’s mother—lived, turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. The sturdy house had carved wooden window frames and stood surrounded by a well-kept garden. There was a great deal of land, which Grandma tended lovingly despite her age.
Galina Petrovna met them at the gate and kissed them both enthusiastically.
“Oh, my helpers have arrived!” she chirped, leading them into the house. “Yanochka, just breathe in this air! After all your lessons, this is exactly what you need.”
That weekend, Yana’s mother-in-law was kindness personified. She did not interfere or offer unsolicited advice, did not criticize Yana’s clothes as she had done before, and kept placing the best pieces of food on her plate. Grandma Zinaida, a wise woman with clear blue eyes, merely smiled knowingly as she watched her daughter, but said nothing.
That evening, when the men went to heat the bathhouse, Galina Petrovna sat beside Yana on the veranda.
“Yana, don’t think I’m some kind of monster,” she began, gazing at the sunset. “I only want what’s best for my son. I see how hard the two of you struggle. Meanwhile, my apartment is just sitting there. Lyosha’s room is enormous and full of light. Live there and save your money. I watch television in the kitchen, so I won’t bother you. You’re young. You need a chance to get started.”
Her voice sounded so sincere and contained such maternal warmth that the ice of distrust in Yana’s heart began to crack. Perhaps the woman really had reconsidered her life. Loneliness could change anyone. A week later, they went to inspect the mother-in-law’s apartment with the move already in mind. Yana had visited only a couple of times before and had barely paid attention to the place. Now, however, she viewed it differently. She assessed everything carefully.
The apartment had an old-fashioned layout but was cozy, with high ceilings and parquet floors. Beaming, Galina Petrovna threw open the door to her son’s room.
“Here it is! The windows face the courtyard, so it’s quiet. I even put up new curtains. There’s more than enough room for the two of you.”
The room really was pleasant. It was not particularly large, but it was bright. Yana imagined placing her desk beside the window and arranging her books. Alexei hugged her from behind and whispered:
“Well? Say yes. Six months to a year, and we’ll have plenty of money.”
Yana looked at her husband, at his pleading eyes, and then at her smiling mother-in-law. She surrendered.
“All right. Let’s try it.”
Galina Petrovna threw up her hands in delight, but for a moment, a strange, cold gleam appeared deep in her eyes. Yana dismissed it as a trick of the light.
The move happened quickly. The young couple did not have many belongings, and within a couple of days, they had settled into their new home. At first, everything went perfectly—almost too perfectly. Galina Petrovna did not interfere in their lives, cooked dinner before Yana returned from work, and went out to see her friends on weekends, leaving the couple alone. They were all adjusting to one another, and the process seemed remarkably smooth.
“See?” Alexei said triumphantly. “And you were worried! My mother is wonderful once you know how to approach her.”
Alexei worked on a rotational schedule: two months in the north, followed by two months at home. His departure was approaching. Before leaving, he suddenly became extremely busy.
“Yasya, I’ve been thinking. We should renovate that back room,” he announced one day, pointing toward the small bedroom that was always kept locked. “Everything in there is old, and the pipes are rotten. Mom says there’s a draft.” “Lyosha, perhaps this isn’t the right time. You’re leaving in a week,” Yana said in surprise. “And it’s going to cost money…”
“Don’t worry. Mom gave me my bonus money to use. I’ll do a proper renovation—new radiators, plastic-framed windows, and an air conditioner. Mom deserves to be comfortable. She let us move in, after all.”
Yana did not argue. Gratitude toward her mother-in-law seemed to demand gestures in return. Alexei worked like a man possessed, knocking down the old plaster and replacing the electrical wiring. Expensive, high-quality double-glazed windows were installed, and the old radiators were replaced with modern bimetallic ones. Even a powerful, expensive air conditioner took its place beneath the ceiling.
Only one thing seemed strange: the room remained empty. Alexei did not have enough time to hang wallpaper or finish the floor. He said he would complete it when he returned. He had done only the rough work, but it was the most expensive part—the engineering and infrastructure.
They saw Alexei off warmly. Galina Petrovna even shed a tear.
“Take care of yourself there, son. Yanochka and I will manage here. We won’t get lost.”
As soon as the train carrying her husband disappeared into the distance, the apartment began to undergo a transformation.
Three days after Alexei’s departure, a moving truck pulled up outside the building. Workers began carrying in boxes containing new kitchen appliances. When Yana returned from work, she froze in the doorway. The old gas stove had been replaced by a gleaming induction cooktop. Beside it stood a state-of-the-art oven and an enormous metallic double-door refrigerator.
“Galina Petrovna, this must have cost… a fortune!” Yana gasped. “Where did you get the money?” Her mother-in-law was busily wiping the refrigerator’s glossy surface with a cloth.
“Oh, don’t make such a fuss. I had some savings—my funeral money. I decided to live like a human being while I’m still alive. My son started renovating, so why should I be left behind?”
Yana tried to estimate the cost. Even a generous amount of funeral savings could hardly have covered extravagance on this scale. But this was only the beginning.
A week later, a team of workers began renovating the bathroom. The old cast-iron bathtub was mercilessly thrown away. In its place appeared a shower cabin with a steam bath, hydro-massage function, and built-in radio. Italian tiles were installed, along with a wall-mounted toilet and touch-sensitive faucets. Yana walked around the apartment as though she were visiting a museum.
“Galina Petrovna, perhaps we should have contributed financially,” she said over dinner one evening, feeling uncomfortable.
“Don’t go poking around in my finances, sweetheart,” her mother-in-law snapped, but then immediately smiled sweetly. “Just live here and enjoy it. I’m doing it all for you. One day, it will belong to the grandchildren.”
Then the renovation reached Galina Petrovna’s own bedroom. A set of solid oak furniture was delivered. The entire apartment smelled of money—large amounts of recklessly spent money. Yana began to suspect that something was wrong. Whenever she raised the subject on the telephone, Alexei laughed it off.
“Mom saved her entire life. Let her spend it. Pinching every penny was making her miserable, so she’s finally decided to enjoy herself.”
But the strangest thing happened in the room Alexei had renovated. One day, Yana returned from work earlier than usual and saw movers carrying a bed inside. It was not an ordinary bed, but a functional medical bed with an adjustable lifting mechanism and side rails. A bedside cabinet and several boxes were placed beside it.
“Galina Petrovna, why is there… a bed like that in here?” Yana’s voice trembled. “Is someone ill?”
Her mother-in-law, who was directing the movers, did not even turn around.
“There was a huge discount. They were clearing out the warehouse, so it was practically free. The room was standing empty anyway. It might be useful if a guest comes to stay and has a bad back. It has an orthopedic base. Very comfortable.”
“Guests sleeping in a medical bed?” Yana thought.
The anxiety that had previously been vague became a clear warning of danger.
Alexei’s rotation reached its midpoint. The atmosphere in the apartment began to change. Galina Petrovna had previously behaved like the perfect hostess, but now cold and demanding notes slipped into her voice.
“Yana, you didn’t wipe the shower properly. There are streaks on the glass,” she would say while passing her daughter-in-law. “Yana, why did you buy the wrong bread? I told you Borodinsky, not Darnitsky. You need to listen.”
Yana endured it. She blamed the woman’s age and the stress of the renovation. She began staying late at work more and more often so that she would not have to listen to the criticism.
The seed of doubt finally took root when Sveta, Alexei’s niece and the daughter of Galina Petrovna’s sister, came to visit. Sveta was straightforward, somewhat crude, but honest. She walked around the apartment and whistled when she saw the new kitchen, then looked inside the bathroom. When Galina Petrovna opened the door to the room containing the medical bed, Sveta blurted out:
“Wow, you’ve already got everything ready? That was fast. Well, Yanka, you’ve really landed yourself in it…”
Yana froze.
“What do you mean, I’ve landed myself in it? What are you talking about?”
Galina Petrovna, who was standing beside them, instantly changed expression. She sharply elbowed her niece in the side, and her voice rang like metal. “Sveta! Hold your tongue. Go and have some tea. The cake is drying out.”
Realizing that she had said too much, Sveta blushed and quickly retreated into the kitchen. But the conversation never recovered. Galina Petrovna kept her heavy gaze fixed on her niece, practically scanning her every movement. Yana tried to return to the subject, but her mother-in-law skillfully redirected the conversation toward the weather and rising grocery prices.
That evening, Yana called her best friend, Marina. She was a pragmatic woman who worked in logistics and could see straight through people.
“Marina, am I losing my mind, or is something really wrong here?” Yana told her about the renovations, the appliances, the bed, and Sveta’s remark.
There was a pause at the other end of the line.
“Yana, use your head,” Marina said harshly. “Your husband is a crane operator, not an oligarch. Your mother-in-law is a pensioner. The renovation you’re describing must have cost at least one and a half to two million, including the appliances and furniture. Where would an old woman get that much ‘funeral money’? And the medical bed… That isn’t for guests, Yana. It’s for someone who is bedridden.”
“But who?”
“Does Alexei have any sick relatives?”
“His grandmother in the village is healthy. She’s still running around. I don’t know about anyone else.”
“Listen,” Marina continued. “‘You’ve landed yourself in it’ means they’re preparing you for something you don’t know about. Judging by that bed, they’re preparing you to become a caregiver. An unpaid caregiver in exchange for a place to live. They didn’t lure you into that apartment to help you save money. They did it to save themselves the work.”
Yana felt cold inside. The puzzle was beginning to come together, but the picture it formed was hideous.
Meanwhile, her mother-in-law was becoming increasingly aggressive. She stopped cooking dinner, claiming she was tired. Then she began demanding that Yana wash the floors every day.
“You live here and use everything, so you’d better earn your keep!” she declared one evening when Yana dared to mention that she was exhausted after work. “Freeloader!”
“I’m not a freeloader. I’m your son’s wife! And we agreed to completely different terms!”
“Terms change!” her mother-in-law roared. “If you don’t like it, you know where the door is! Actually, no… You’re not going anywhere.”
Whenever Yana attempted to complain over the telephone, Alexei became irritated.
“Yana, stop driving me crazy! I’m working in freezing conditions while the two of you can’t agree over a broom. Mom is old and has a difficult personality. Put up with it. I’ll sort everything out when I come home. That’s it. I don’t have time for this. My shift is starting.” A few days later, the doorbell rang. Two strong men carried several enormous checkered bags into the apartment. They smelled of mustiness, medicine, and tobacco.
“Where do we put them?” one of the men asked.
“In that room, beside the bed,” Galina Petrovna ordered.
Yana stood in the hallway, clutching a folder of documents to her chest.
“What is all this?”
“Belongings. Don’t worry about it,” her mother-in-law muttered after locking the door behind the movers. “A distant relative asked me to store them while he’s moving.”
“What relative? A man? Is he old?” Yana did not back down. “Galina Petrovna, there’s a medical bed in that room, and now there are personal belongings. Are you bringing someone here?”
“That’s none of your business!” her mother-in-law snarled, her face twisting with fury. “You ask too many questions! Go and cook something. I’m hungry!”
Yana locked herself inside her room. Her hands were trembling.
“None of your business.”
She felt like a rat driven into a corner. She needed to learn the truth.
Then she remembered Sveta. She did not have the young woman’s telephone number, but she knew where her husband’s aunt Klava—Galina Petrovna’s sister—lived. Yana found her contact information in an old notebook of Alexei’s that was lying in a desk drawer.
“Hello, Aunt Klava? This is Yana, Alexei’s wife. Could you give me Sveta’s number? I really need her advice about… a present for Alexei.”
Suspecting nothing, the aunt dictated the number.
The call to Sveta finally revealed the whole truth.
“Sveta, I’m begging you. Tell me the truth. What did you mean? Whose belongings were delivered? What did you mean when you said I’d landed myself in it?”
Sveta remained silent for ten seconds. Then she released a heavy, resigned sigh.
“All right, Yanka. You’re going to find out in a couple of days anyway. Listen. Aunt Galya had a first husband named Fyodor. He’s Lyosha’s father. They divorced ages ago. He lived alone in his one-bedroom apartment in the city center. He drank, chased women, and had a terrible personality. A month ago, he suffered a stroke. His right side is paralyzed. He can’t walk—he can only lie there and shout. The doctors immediately said the case was extremely serious. Basically, he’s finished. He’ll be bedridden for the rest of his life.”
Yana listened without breathing.
“And?”
“And no one wanted him. But his apartment was extremely valuable. Aunt Galya and Lyosha worked on him. They convinced him to sell it. He signed the documents, and the money from the sale went to them. That’s how they paid for the renovation and bought all the appliances. And Lyosha—didn’t you know? He bought himself a brand-new Camry. It’s sitting in his friend’s garage, waiting for him to return from his rotation. He didn’t tell you?”
“A car?” Yana whispered. “No…”
“Anyway, the deal was that in exchange for the money from the apartment, they would take him in and care for him until he died. They registered themselves as his joint guardians. Aunt Galya is cunning. She has no intention of emptying bedpans herself. She claims she has a bad back and high blood pressure, and besides, she considers herself a queen. That’s why they brought you here. You’re young, healthy, and kind. Lyosha thought you wouldn’t refuse because you loved him. That’s how you ‘landed yourself in it.’ They’re transferring old Fyodor from the rehabilitation center tomorrow or the day after. He’s vicious and swears with every other word. Run, Yanka. Run now, while you still can.”
The ground seemed to disappear beneath Yana’s feet. She sat on the bed in the room she had considered her home and understood that it was not a home at all. It was a barracks for domestic labor. They had lured her in like a foolish animal, using the piece of cheese called “saving money.”
Alexei… her husband. He had known. He had planned all of it. He had renovated his father’s room to keep his conscience clear, as though he could claim that he had created comfortable conditions for him. A Camry for Alexei. A new kitchen for his mother. And for Yana—bedpans and a hostile invalid.
That same evening, Alexei called her himself. Yana answered.
“Hi, baby. How are things?”
“How’s the car, Lyosha?” she asked evenly. “A Camry, I believe? What color is it? Black?”
Alexei choked at the other end of the line.
“How did you… How did you find out? It was supposed to be a surprise. I wanted…”
“A surprise? Is your paralyzed father, who is being brought here tomorrow, also a surprise? Or was I supposed to find out when I had to hold his bedpan for him?”
The silence on the telephone seemed to last forever. Then Alexei’s voice became hard and unfamiliar.
“So you’ve been snooping around. Listen to me carefully. Yes, my father is going to live with us. It’s my duty. And it’s yours as my wife. We’ve spent the money, and there’s no turning back. The apartment has been sold. The money has been invested in our home and in the car. I’ll help when I get back. Until then, you have to help my mother. It won’t kill you. We’re a family.”
“We are not a family, Lyosha. Families don’t sell one another into slavery for a set of kitchen cabinets.”
Yana ended the call and blocked her husband’s number.
She packed frantically. Yana pulled out her suitcase and threw things into it without sorting them—underwear, jeans, documents. The most important thing was to take her documents.
At that moment, the lock on the front door clicked. Someone entered the apartment. Loud voices, shuffling feet, and the smell of a hospital filled the hallway.
“Careful! My leg, you idiots! Hold my leg!” A hoarse, croaking male voice thundered through the apartment.
“We are holding it, Fyodor Kuzmich. Stop shouting,” the orderlies replied.
Yana looked out of her room. A heavily built man with a red, swollen face was being carried down the hallway on a stretcher. His eyes rolled around wildly as he unleashed a stream of abuse.
“Where are you dragging me, you filthy wolves? Galka, you witch, fix my pillow!”
Her mother-in-law hurried around him, pretending to be caring.
“Just a moment, Fedenka. Here’s your room, complete with air conditioning. You’ll live like you’re in paradise. Yana! Yana, come out! Meet your patient!”
The orderlies transferred the old man onto the bed, accepted their payment, and hurried away as though they were afraid of being infected by the malice hanging in the air.
Galina Petrovna entered Yana’s room. When she saw the open suitcase, her face turned purple.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m leaving. You can live with your Fyodor, your money, and your renovations. I never agreed to any of this.”
“STOP RIGHT THERE!” Her mother-in-law stepped forward and blocked the doorway with her body. She was a large woman and now seemed as immovable as a cliff. “You’re not going anywhere from my apartment! You’ll wait until your husband returns, and then the two of you can decide! You’re his wife. You have obligations! Who’s going to clean up after his father? I have high blood pressure!”
“You took the money, so you can clean up after him!” Yana tried to squeeze past her with the suitcase.
“You ungrateful little beast! We took you in and fed you!” Galina Petrovna grabbed the suitcase handle and pulled so violently that Yana nearly fell. “You’re not going anywhere! You’ll do exactly what I tell you!”
A roar came from the next room.
“Galka! Bring me something to drink! Where are you two sluts wandering around?”
“You hear him? Go and bring your father some water! Now!” Her mother-in-law shoved Yana in the chest.
Galina Petrovna’s eyes reflected the madness of greed and the terror of being left alone with the disabled former husband she despised. She grabbed Yana by the hair and tried to drag her back into the room.
“LET GO OF ME!” Yana screamed.
Pain tore through her scalp. Yana understood that the time for conversation was over. She broke free, stepped backward, and frantically unzipped the side pocket of her handbag. Her hand found a cold metal canister—the pepper spray Alexei had given her a year earlier “for protection.”
The irony was almost perfect.
“Get out of my way!” Yana warned, holding the canister in front of her.
“You think you can frighten me?” Galina Petrovna laughed and lunged at her daughter-in-law, fingers spread and aimed at her face. “I’m going to tear you apart, you little wretch!”
Yana pressed the button.
A yellow stream struck her mother-in-law directly in the face, which was twisted with rage.
The effect was immediate. Galina Petrovna howled, covered her face with her hands, and collapsed to her knees.
“Aaah! My eyes! They’re burning! You’ve killed me!”
Yana picked up her suitcase and stepped over the wailing woman. In the other room, Fyodor Kuzmich continued swearing and demanding attention.
Yana rushed into the stairwell and ran down the stairs without waiting for the elevator. Only when she reached the street could she finally breathe. Her hands were trembling.
The telephone in her pocket was ringing incessantly. It was Alexei.
Yana answered as she climbed into a taxi.
“What have you done?” her husband shrieked. “Mom called me! She can’t see anything, and her face is swollen! Are you insane? Who’s going to look after my father now? I’m away on rotation! Mom can’t do it!”
“That, my dear, is now your problem,” Yana replied coldly. “The person who took the money can provide the care. The person who bought a Camry at the cost of my life can do it. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Wait! Yana! You can’t! We’re his guardians. We can’t back out! You don’t understand—he’ll destroy us!”
“Good luck,” Yana said and tossed the telephone onto the seat.
Three months passed.
Yana obtained her divorce quickly. They had no children, and she did not try to divide any property. Freedom was more valuable. She rented a small studio apartment, continued working as a tutor, and could finally sleep peacefully.
Alexei and Galina Petrovna’s lives turned into hell.
Alexei was forced to quit his rotational job so that he could help his mother. Almost nothing remained of the money from the apartment sale—it had all been consumed by the renovations and the purchase of the car. They had to sell the Camry for half its original value so they could afford to live, because Alexei could no longer work full-time.
Fyodor Kuzmich proved extraordinarily resilient and unbelievably difficult. He demanded delicacies, threw plates at the expensive induction cooktop, and smashed the screen of the kitchen television with a crutch after somehow managing to hobble into the room. The expensive shower cabin with its steam function remained unused because they could not get the disabled man inside it. Instead, they washed him in a basin in his bedroom, damaging the parquet floor with water and bodily waste.
Galina Petrovna aged dramatically. Her allergic reaction to the pepper spray eventually subsided, but it left dark patches on her face. The constant stress and her former husband’s shouting also caused her to develop insomnia.
Every day, as they changed the diapers of the former husband they despised, listened to his vicious abuse, and argued bitterly with one another, Galina Petrovna and her resentful son remembered Yana.
But it was too late to change anything.
The trap they had so carefully constructed for someone else had snapped shut around their own necks.