“Good thing you inherited the apartment. I’ll live in it, since I already gave mine to my daughter,” declared her mother-in-law
Marina stood in the middle of the empty room and could hardly believe that all of this now belonged to her. Her grandmother’s apartment. The very one where Marina had spent every summer as a child, where it smelled of apple jam and freshly washed linen. Her grandmother had passed away six months ago, quietly, in her sleep. She had left her granddaughter the only thing she owned: a two-room apartment on the outskirts of the city.
The inheritance paperwork had taken six months. Documents, the notary, endless trips to government offices. But now it was all over. The apartment officially belonged to Marina. Her own home. The first one in her life.
Artyom came in after her, looked around the room, and gave a low whistle.
“Not bad. Spacious. Grandma knew how to choose.”
“Grandma lived here for forty years,” Marina answered quietly. “Her whole life.”
Her husband came over and put his arm around her shoulders.
“We’ll take care of this apartment. We’ll make it nice.”
Marina nodded. The apartment really did need updating. The wallpaper had faded and peeled in places. The floors creaked. The plumbing worked, but looked ancient. Still, the windows faced a courtyard with old linden trees, and in the bedroom stood that same grandmother’s wardrobe with carved handles.
During the first few days, Marina put the apartment in order. She went through her grandmother’s things, kept the most valuable items, and gave the rest to the neighbors. Valentina Stepanovna, a neighbor who had known her grandmother since they were young, came over to help and recalled old stories.
“Your granny was such a homemaker,” Valentina Stepanovna said as she wiped dust from the dresser. “Everything was always clean and tidy. And she was impossibly kind. If someone needed help, she was the first to step in.”
Marina listened and smiled. Her grandmother really had been a special person. And now the apartment preserved her memory.
A week later, Marina suggested that she and her husband discuss their plans.
“What are we going to do with the apartment?” Marina asked, pouring tea.
“What do you mean?” Artyom looked up from his phone.
“Well, we’re still renting. Maybe we should move here? Or rent it out?”
Artyom thought for a moment.
“Rent it out… Actually, no. Let’s move here ourselves. The apartment is bigger, the neighborhood is good. Why pay rent if we have our own place?”
Marina was delighted. The very thought of living in her own apartment warmed her soul. No rent, no landlords, no rules. Only freedom.
“Then we’ll start moving things little by little,” Marina decided. “We’ll buy the furniture we need.”
Artyom nodded and returned to his phone.
The move took two weeks. Marina tried to preserve the spirit of her grandmother’s apartment while adding something of her own. New cushions for the sofa, a lamp in the hallway, light curtains instead of the heavy old ones. The apartment was changing, becoming a home.
October came into its own. Outside the window, fallen leaves rustled as the wind swept them along the sidewalks. In the evenings, Marina turned on the table lamp and settled into her grandmother’s armchair with a book. It was warm, cozy, and peaceful.
Artyom began mentioning his mother more often. At first, casually.
“Mom says your apartment turned out nice.”
“How does she know?” Marina was surprised. “We haven’t invited her yet.”
“I showed her some photos,” her husband shrugged.
Then the mentions became more frequent.
“Mom liked the sofa. She asked where we bought it.”
“Mom says you could add some flowers to the windowsills.”
“Mom thinks the kitchen needs to be redone.”
Marina did not pay much attention. Her mother-in-law had always loved giving advice. It was familiar. Irritating, but tolerable.
One evening, Artyom said almost in passing:
“Mom can stop by sometimes, right? Since the apartment is spacious now.”
“Stop by?” Marina looked up from her magazine. “You mean to visit?”
“Well, yes. Sit for a while, drink some tea. Now she’ll be able to come over without feeling awkward.”
“Of course,” Marina agreed. “Let her come by.”
The words sounded ordinary. Marina decided he meant rare visits. A couple of times a month at most. Her mother-in-law lived on the other side of the city and worked at a clinic. Nina Petrovna simply did not have time for frequent trips.
Two weeks passed. Marina came home from work and discovered that the door was unlocked. She was surprised. Artyom was supposed to stay late at a meeting. Marina carefully pushed the door open and heard voices from the kitchen.
Her mother-in-law was sitting in the kitchen. A cup of tea stood in front of Nina Petrovna, and an open newspaper lay on the table. Her mother-in-law looked up and smiled.
“Ah, Marinochka. You’re home. Shall I pour you some tea?”
Marina stopped in the doorway.
“Hello, Nina Petrovna. How did you… get in?”
“Artyomushka gave me the keys. He said I could come in whenever I wanted. So I came.”
Marina slowly walked into the kitchen and put down her bag.
“Artyom didn’t warn me you were coming.”
“Why should he warn you?” her mother-in-law shrugged. “We’re family. No need for ceremony.”
Marina poured herself some water and sat down at the table. Unease stirred inside her, but she tried not to show it.
“Will Artyom be here soon?”
“He said he’d be free by seven,” Nina Petrovna answered, taking a sip of tea. “By the way, your apartment is lovely. Your grandmother did well; she lived in a good place.”
“Yes, Grandma loved this apartment very much.”
“Of course she did. Two rooms, a large kitchen, a balcony. A dream, not an apartment,” her mother-in-law said, getting up and walking around the kitchen, peeking into the cabinets. “Though it could use some updating. The wallpaper is old, the floors creak. But that can be fixed.”
Marina tightened her grip around her cup. Her mother-in-law behaved as if she were inspecting property.
“We’re planning to renovate gradually,” Marina said with restraint.
“Good girl. The main thing is not to rush. Renovations are expensive,” Nina Petrovna returned to the table and sat down again. “I haven’t changed anything in my one-room apartment for about five years. Why bother? I’ll be giving it to my daughter soon anyway.”
Marina frowned.
“Giving it to her?”
“Well, what else can I do? Ksyusha is twenty-five. She’s getting married. She needs housing. So I decided she can have my apartment. And I’ll move in with you.”
The words sounded so natural, as if her mother-in-law were discussing the weather. Marina froze.
“With us?”
“Well, yes. You have two rooms. That’s enough,” Nina Petrovna smiled. “Artyom doesn’t mind. We’ve already talked.”
Marina felt everything inside her tighten. Move in. With them. Into the apartment Marina had inherited. Without asking, without discussing it.
“Nina Petrovna, Artyom and I have not discussed this matter,” Marina said slowly.
“Then discuss it,” her mother-in-law replied calmly. “Artyomushka already knows. He says there’s enough room for everyone.”
“But this is my apartment.”
“So what?” her mother-in-law raised her eyebrows. “Artyom is your husband. That means the apartment is shared. Why worry? We’re family.”
Marina clenched her fists under the table. Her mother-in-law’s voice sounded so confident, so categorical, as if everything had already been decided. As if Marina’s opinion did not matter at all.
“Nina Petrovna, the apartment is registered in my name. I received it before marriage. It’s my inheritance.”
Her mother-in-law waved her hand.
“Formalities. The important thing is that Artyom is comfortable living here. And now I’ll be comfortable here too. I’m not young anymore. It’s hard to be alone. And here, family will be close by.”
Marina stood up.
“Excuse me, I need to call my husband.”
Her mother-in-law nodded and returned to her newspaper, as if the conversation were over. Marina went out into the hallway, took out her phone, and called Artyom. Her husband did not answer right away.
“Yes, Marish.”
“Your mother is here. Sitting in our kitchen. She says she’s planning to move in.”
Silence.
“Artyom, do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” her husband sighed. “She already told you?”
“She told me. Why am I the last to find out?”
“Marish, not the last. Mom just asked for advice. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Haven’t decided? Nina Petrovna talks as if everything has already been agreed!”
“She’s exaggerating. Mom wants to move out and give her apartment to Ksyusha. And at the same time move in with us. Temporarily.”
“Temporarily?” Marina almost laughed. “Artyom, you do understand that this would be forever, don’t you?”
“Not forever. Just until Mom finds something else.”
“She won’t look for anything,” Marina lowered her voice. “Artyom, this is my apartment. My inheritance. I don’t want your mother living here.”
Her husband fell silent. Then he said quietly:
“Marish, let’s talk at home. Calmly. Without emotions.”
“Fine,” Marina answered curtly and hung up.
Her mother-in-law was still sitting in the kitchen. Marina returned and poured herself more water. Nina Petrovna looked up.
“Did you talk to Artyomushka?”
“Yes.”
“Well, good. He’s a smart boy. He’ll make the right decision.”
Marina said nothing. Everything inside her was boiling, but she did not want to show her feelings to her mother-in-law. Nina Petrovna stood up and went to the window.
“The view is nice. The courtyard is green. I like it here. I’ll definitely be comfortable living here.”
Marina clenched her jaw. Her mother-in-law spoke as if the move had already happened. As if the apartment already belonged to her.
“Nina Petrovna, Artyom and I haven’t made a decision yet.”
“What decision?” her mother-in-law turned around. “You won’t throw me out onto the street, will you? I’m your husband’s mother. His own blood.”
“No one is throwing you out. We just need to discuss this, the three of us.”
“Discuss it, discuss it,” her mother-in-law sat down again. “Just remember, Ksyusha needs the apartment. The wedding is in six months. The young couple has nowhere to live. So I don’t have much time. Either I move here, or… well, I don’t even know. Am I supposed to rent somewhere?”
Her mother-in-law’s voice trembled, and Marina realized that Nina Petrovna was trying to pressure her with pity. An old trick, but an effective one. Especially with Artyom.
Artyom came home an hour later. His mother was still sitting in the kitchen, leafing through the newspaper. Her husband greeted them, took off his jacket, and sat at the table.
“Mom, maybe it’s time to go home? It’s late already.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, it’s not late,” Nina Petrovna waved him off. “It’s eight in the evening. I can easily get home even at ten.”
Artyom looked at Marina. His face was tired and tense. Marina could see that Artyom did not want this conversation. But it could not be postponed.
“Artyom, we need to talk. Alone,” Marina said firmly.
Her mother-in-law pursed her lips but stood up.
“Fine, fine. I’ll go watch TV for now.”
Nina Petrovna left the kitchen and pulled the door half-closed behind her. Marina waited until her footsteps faded, then turned to her husband.
“Explain to me what is going on.”
Artyom rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Mom wants to move in. She’s giving her apartment to Ksyusha. She asked to live with us.”
“To live with us for how long?” Marina crossed her arms.
“Well… until she finds something of her own.”
“Artyom, your mother won’t look for anything. You understand that, don’t you?”
Her husband looked away.
“She’s not young. It’s hard for her to be alone. Ksyusha needs an apartment, the young couple has nowhere to live. Mom decided to help her daughter.”
“At my expense?” Marina did not raise her voice, but every word sounded firm. “Artyom, this is my apartment. I inherited it. We only just moved here.”
“I know,” her husband sighed. “But Mom can’t just end up on the street.”
“She can rent. Or find another option. But not here.”
“Marish, she’s my mother.”
“And I’m your wife. And this is my home,” Marina stepped closer. “Artyom, did you even ask my opinion? Or did you agree right away?”
Her husband said nothing. Marina understood: he had agreed. Without discussion, without a conversation. He had simply made the decision for both of them.
“I need to think,” Marina said, turning and leaving the kitchen.
In the bedroom, Marina closed the door and sat down on the bed. Everything inside her churned. Her mother-in-law wanted to move in. Not as a guest for a couple of days. Permanently. Into the apartment Marina had received from her grandmother. Into the only home that belonged to her alone.
Marina took out her phone and called her mother. She answered immediately.
“Marinka, what happened?”
“Mom, my mother-in-law wants to move in with us. She says she gave her apartment to her daughter, and now she’ll live with us.”
Her mother was silent for a moment.
“And do you agree?”
“No. But Artyom already gave his consent. Without me.”
“Then say no. This is your apartment. Your inheritance. No one has the right to decide for you.”
“What if Artyom gets offended?”
“Let him be offended,” her mother replied sharply. “Marinka, if you agree now, you’ll never get her out later. Your mother-in-law will stay forever. And you’ll live by her rules. In your own apartment.”
Marina knew her mother was right. If she gave in now, it would be too late later. Nina Petrovna would settle in, take up space, start dictating terms. And throwing out her husband’s own mother would become impossible.
“Thank you, Mom. I understand.”
Marina returned to the kitchen. Artyom was standing by the window, looking into the courtyard. Her mother-in-law was still sitting in the room in front of the TV.
“Nina Petrovna,” Marina called, passing by the doorway.
Her mother-in-law came out and smiled.
“Yes, Marinochka?”
“I’m sorry, but moving in with us won’t work.”
The smile slid off Nina Petrovna’s face.
“What do you mean, it won’t work?”
“The apartment is small. It’s tight enough for the two of us. With three people, it would be completely uncomfortable.”
“Small?” her mother-in-law snorted. “Two rooms! That’s more than enough.”
“It isn’t enough,” Marina answered firmly. “Nina Petrovna, I understand your situation. But we cannot take you in. I’m sorry.”
Her mother-in-law turned to her son.
“Artyomushka, do you hear that? Your wife is throwing me out!”
Artyom remained silent. Marina saw how his shoulders tensed, how his fists clenched. But he did not interfere.
“No one is throwing you out,” Marina said calmly. “Moving in is simply impossible. Look for another option.”
“What other option?!” her mother-in-law’s voice trembled. “I’ve already given away my apartment! Ksyusha needs housing!”
“That was your decision. Not ours.”
Nina Petrovna turned and went into the hallway. A wardrobe door slammed, a bag rustled. Her mother-in-law gathered her things, sighing loudly and muttering something under her breath. Artyom stood motionless, staring at the floor.
“Artyom, see your mother out,” Marina said.
Her husband looked up, nodded, and went into the hallway. Marina remained in the kitchen, listening as the front door slammed, as the footsteps on the staircase faded. Silence. Finally, silence.
Artyom returned half an hour later. His face was grim. He went into the room without looking at Marina and turned on the TV. Marina came over and stood in the doorway.
“Are you offended?”
“No,” Artyom answered shortly.
“Artyom, look at me.”
Her husband turned his head. His eyes were tired.
“Mom cried in the taxi. She said I betrayed her.”
“Betrayed her?” Marina entered the room. “Artyom, this is my apartment. My inheritance. Your mother wanted to move in without my consent. That’s wrong.”
“She’s my mother.”
“And I’m your wife. And this is my home. Nina Petrovna should have asked first. Not announced it, not demanded it. Asked.”
Artyom was silent. Marina sat down beside him.
“Listen, I’m not against helping your mother. But not like this. Not by having her move in permanently. This is my territory. My comfort zone. I’m not ready to share the apartment with your mother.”
“What am I supposed to tell Mom?”
“The truth. That your wife is against it. And that she has every right to be.”
Her husband nodded. The conversation was over.
Three days passed. Nina Petrovna did not call. Artyom also said nothing about his mother. Marina lived her usual life: work, home, occasional evening walks. Peace returned.
On the fourth day, Ksyusha called. Her mother-in-law’s daughter sounded agitated, almost hysterical.
“Marina, Mom cries every day. She says you kicked her out. How could you?”
“Ksyusha, I didn’t kick anyone out,” Marina answered patiently. “Nina Petrovna wanted to move in with us. I refused.”
“But Mom gave me the apartment! Now she has nowhere to live!”
“That was your mother’s decision. Not mine.”
“You’re heartless!” Ksyusha’s voice trembled. “Mom has done so much for you!”
“What exactly?” Marina asked calmly.
Ksyusha fell silent.
“Well… she’s Artyom’s mother. His own blood. You’re obligated to help.”
“I’m not obligated,” Marina answered firmly. “Ksyusha, if your mother needs housing, let her rent a place. Or you can give the apartment back to her. But Nina Petrovna will not be moving in with us.”
“You’ll regret this!” Ksyusha shouted and hung up.
Marina put down the phone and exhaled. The pressure from the relatives was increasing. But Marina had no intention of backing down.
That evening, Artyom came home. His face was tense.
“Did Ksyusha call?”
“Yes,” Marina nodded. “She accused me of being heartless.”
“Mom really is crying. She says I abandoned her.”
“Artyom, your mother gave away her apartment herself. That was her choice. Not ours.”
“But she’s my mother!”
“And this is my apartment!” Marina raised her voice for the first time in days. “Artyom, how long is this going to continue? Your mother wants to live at my expense. She wants to take over my space. My inheritance. And you’re defending her!”
Her husband took a step back.
“I’m not defending her. It’s just…”
“It’s just that you don’t want conflict with your mother. And you’re ready to sacrifice me,” Marina grabbed her bag. “I need to think. I’ll stay with my parents for a couple of days.”
Marina left the apartment without looking back. Artyom did not stop her.
Marina spent a week at her parents’ home. Her father said nothing, but supported her with his eyes. Her mother spoke plainly.
“Don’t go back until Artyom understands that the apartment is yours. And decisions about it are made by you.”
“And if he doesn’t understand?”
“Then the choice has already been made. Not in your favor.”
Marina thought about it every day. Artyom called, asked her to come back, promised to talk to his mother. But the promises sounded empty.
On the eighth day, the doorbell rang. Marina opened the door. Artyom was standing on the threshold.
“May I come in?”
Marina nodded. Her husband went into the kitchen and sat at the table. Marina poured tea and sat across from him.
“I talked to Mom,” Artyom began. “I told her the move is impossible. That you’re against it. And that I support you.”
Marina looked up.
“And what did she say?”
“She was offended. She cried. But she understood. Mom rented an apartment. A small one-room place. Near Ksyusha.”
“And that’s all?”
“That’s all,” Artyom reached across the table. “I’m sorry I didn’t support you right away. It’s just… Mom has always pressured me with pity. And I got used to giving in.”
Marina took her husband’s hand.
“Artyom, it’s normal to defend your territory. Your home. I’m not against helping your mother. But not at the cost of my own comfort.”
Her husband nodded.
“I understand. There won’t be any more situations like this. I promise.”
Marina returned home the next day. The apartment greeted her with silence and the familiar smell of her grandmother’s belongings. Marina walked through the rooms, opened the windows, and let in fresh air. The home belonged to her again. Only to her.
A month later, Nina Petrovna called. Her mother-in-law’s voice sounded restrained, almost cold.
“Marina, I wanted to apologize. I behaved wrongly. I didn’t ask your opinion.”
“Thank you, Nina Petrovna. I’m glad you understand that.”
“How are things in the apartment?”
“Everything is fine. We’re renovating little by little.”
“I see. Well, I won’t bother you. I just wanted to say that.”
The conversation ended quickly. Marina put down the phone and smiled. The apology had sounded formal, but it was a step. A small one, but an important one.
November turned into December. Snow fell outside the window, covering the city with a white blanket. Marina stood by the window with a cup of hot cocoa and looked out at the courtyard. The very courtyard where her grandmother had once walked in the evenings. The very house that now belonged to Marina.
Artyom came up behind her and put his arms around her shoulders.
“What are you thinking about?”
“About how good it is that we’re here. Alone. Without unnecessary people.”
“Without unnecessary people,” her husband repeated and smiled.
Marina leaned against him. The apartment was their fortress. Their space. And no one else dared disturb it anymore. Not her mother-in-law with her claims, not relatives with their demands. Only the two of them, and the walls that preserved her grandmother’s memory and were beginning to preserve their own story.
Marina closed her eyes and exhaled. For the first time in a long while, she felt calm inside. The home had truly become a home. Not a temporary shelter, not a place for other people’s plans. Just a home. Her home.