“Come in, Mom. I’ll apologize just for show, and she’ll run off to set the table,” the husband smirked. But when they entered the apartment, all that awaited them was bare concrete—and his father-in-law holding the receipts.
The air in the small kitchen was suffocating, heavy with the cloying, aggressive scent of Ilya’s over-applied cologne, which warred violently with the innocent aroma of simmering zucchini and sour milk. Ilya stood like a self-appointed tyrant in the center of the room, aggressively tightening his belt. His eyes were fixed on his wife, Natalia, … Read more