Maria meticulously arranged her children’s clothes in the wardrobe, smoothing each piece with tender care. Suddenly, familiar voices echoed from the hallway. With the baby peacefully asleep in the stroller, she moved cautiously, determined not to disturb the child’s rest. After living with Vladimir for three years, she felt increasingly at home in this apartment, which had turned into their family sanctuary right after their wedding. Elena Mikhailovna, her mother-in-law, had always appreciated her assistance around the house, and having a roof over their heads was the agreement they’d all accepted.
The unexpected passing of her father-in-law, Petr Nikolaevich, two months earlier had shocked the entire family. He had died quietly in his sleep, leaving behind a will that took everyone by surprise, including his own wife.
“I still can’t understand why he left the apartment to you,” Elena Mikhailovna confessed to her son at breakfast. “But I suppose it’s fair. You live here and have taken care of him.”
Vladimir nodded quietly, recalling the inheritance papers he had discovered in his father’s desk.
“The important thing now is that we finally have a home of our own,” he said, glancing toward his wife.
Maria responded with a faint smile.
The funeral had passed, yet the very next day, someone knocked on the door. Maria opened it to find a woman, around fifty years old, with pronounced features and a sharp gaze standing in the entrance.
“May I ask who you are?” Maria inquired.
“I’m Svetlana Petrovna, the sister of the deceased. I need to speak with my nephew.”
Without waiting for an invitation, Aunt Sveta stepped inside. Vladimir, hearing the voices, came into the corridor.
“Aunt Sveta! What a surprise to see you!” he greeted.
“Indeed,” the woman said as she surveyed the hallway. “I have several family matters to discuss. I trust we can find a suitable resolution.”
Elena Mikhailovna emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.
“Would you like some tea, Svetlana?”
“Tea would be welcome. And perhaps, while we’re at it, we can discuss the inheritance.”
Vladimir frowned.
“Inheritance? Father left the apartment to me.”
“That’s exactly what I’d like to address,” Aunt Sveta declared, taking a seat at the table without removing her coat. “I believe I hold rights to a portion of father’s estate as well.”
“Father left a will,” Vladimir attempted to contest.
“Wills can be challenged, nephew, especially if one relative inherits everything while others receive nothing,” she replied sharply.
Maria clasped her daughter and quietly retreated to the bedroom.
“I insist on a fair share!” Aunt Sveta raised her voice in distress. “That apartment belonged to my father; therefore, it belongs to me!”
“But the will says…” Vladimir began.
“Your will means nothing to me!” she interrupted vehemently. “I intend to live in the very room where this couple with the child resides now.”
Maria reappeared, holding the baby.
“Forgive me, but we’ve lived here for three years. This is our home.”
Aunt Sveta turned to face her with a cunning smile.
“Dear, it’s time you moved aside. Enough living off others’ generosity.”
“You have no right to address my wife that way,” Vladimir stepped in.
“Oh, but I do!” the woman declared, pulling a folder from her bag. “Here is a new will from my father that names me the heir!”
Vladimir received the documents with hands that trembled slightly. Elena Mikhailovna stepped forward to look.
Maria observed as the expressions on Vladimir’s and Elena’s faces shifted noticeably. The documents they read brought no joy — it was evident that a second will, previously unknown, had emerged.
The following day brought another uninvited visitor: Uncle Dima, the deceased’s brother. He barged through the door, brimming with anger.
“Where is the scoundrel who claims the family apartment?” he shouted as he strode in.
“Stay calm, Uncle Dima,” Vladimir tried to pacify him.
“Calm? Are you mad?!” the man exploded. “This is my father’s apartment, yet some nobody thinks it belongs to him!”
“Everything’s official—the will states…”
“What will?” Uncle Dima snatched the papers from Vladimir and ripped them in two. “Here’s your precious will!”
Elena Mikhailovna attempted to mediate.
“Dmitry, please be respectful. It was your father’s wish.”
“Be quiet, you have no say here! Neither about this apartment nor about your son!” he snapped.
Maria clutched her daughter tightly as the child began to cry from the loud shouting.
“Please, keep it down. There’s a baby here.”
“I don’t care about your child!” Uncle Dima yelled. “You shouldn’t have brought a baby into someone else’s home!”
Vladimir’s face paled.
“Please, Uncle Dima…”
“Don’t boss me! I’ll be living here, and you’ll have to find somewhere else!”
After a month under the same roof, tensions in the apartment escalated. Aunt Sveta and Uncle Dima dominated the living room, converting family life into misery. Their constant bickering and demands that Maria prepare meals and clean for them took a toll on her.
Maria whispered to Vladimir one day in the hallway:
- “Vladimir, something must be done.”
Uncle Dima immediately overheard and confronted them.
“What are you whispering about? Plotting against us?”
“We only wanted to—”
“Silence!” he commanded. “You’re not allowed to speak!”
Elena Mikhailovna could no longer bear the chaos.
“Vladimir, are you a man or not? Throw out these hooligans!”
“Mom, don’t interfere.”
“How can I stay silent? They’ve turned our home into a battleground!”
“Our home?” Aunt Sveta scoffed. “Dear, this place isn’t yours, nor is it your weak son’s.”
One morning, Maria detected an unfamiliar man holding a briefcase in the hallway.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m a realtor here to appraise the apartment for sale.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“A sale? What sale?”
Aunt Sveta appeared, smug and satisfied.
“Ah, our tenant has woken up. This is Igor Semyonovich. He’ll assist us in selling the apartment and dividing the proceeds.”
Maria sought out her husband in the kitchen.
“Is this true? You agreed to sell our home?”
Vladimir lifted his exhausted gaze.
“Maria, understand this is best for everyone involved. We’ll find something smaller, and the relatives will receive their shares.”
“Best for everyone? And what about our daughter?”
“You can stay with your parents for now. It’s temporary.”
Maria stared in disbelief. Could this be the man she once loved?
“You intend to throw us onto the street?”
“Don’t exaggerate. Your parents have a countryside house…”
“A countryside house? In November? With a newborn?”
Vladimir averted his eyes.
“We’ll find a way.”
That evening, Maria froze upon entering the apartment. Her belongings were packed in suitcases, standing in the hallway. From the living room came music and laughter.
Aunt Sveta appeared with a raised glass.
“Well, you’re back — just in time to collect your things.”
“What’s happening?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she smirked. “We told you — you were only temporary guests here. That time has ended.”
Uncle Dima emerged, holding a piece of cake.
“Moving out, huh? Finally! That cuckoo’s been ruining our nest.”
“Where’s Vladimir?”
“Your husband’s out getting champagne,” Uncle Dima chuckled. “Today’s our housewarming party!”
Taking her suitcases and daughter’s hand, Maria paused at the threshold.
“This isn’t over.”
“Is it?” Aunt Sveta mocked. “And what can you do about it?”
District police officer Kirill Andreyevich attentively listened to Maria’s account and shook his head.
“This case is complicated, but you do have legal standing. You and your child are registered at this address.”
“So, they can’t just evict me?”
“Exactly. Additionally, the sale of a residence with a minor registered is impossible without approval from guardianship authorities.”
Shortly after, the officer accompanied Maria back to the apartment. Vladimir, Aunt Sveta, and Uncle Dima sat at the table, their faces gloomy.
“Let’s clarify one thing,” the officer began, opening his notebook. “Who arranged the eviction of the woman with the child?”
“Eviction? She left voluntarily!” Uncle Dima snapped.
“After you packed her belongings and started celebrating her departure?”
Aunt Sveta tried to excuse herself.
“We have rights to live here.”
“Perhaps. However, Ms. Maria has equal rights here. And as for the potential apartment sale,” the officer glanced at Vladimir, “are you aware it cannot proceed when a minor is registered?”
Vladimir paled.
“That’s because,” the officer continued, “per Article 292 of the Civil Code, infringing upon a child’s rights may result in fines or even criminal charges.”
Uncle Dima jumped up.
“This is nonsense! Now we’re hostages of this…”
“Watch your language,” the officer warned. “Now, everyone will assist Ms. Maria in retrieving her belongings.”
One month later, Maria’s circumstances had shifted dramatically. After conversations with the officer and a lawyer, her rights were clear. During legal examination, it was revealed that the will Aunt Sveta and Uncle Dima presented was forged. Petr Nikolaevich’s authentic will delivered a surprise — it did not leave the apartment to his son but to his daughter-in-law, explicitly “for her care and kindness shown to the family.”
“This can’t be!” Vladimir whispered, reviewing the documents in the notary’s office.
“Your father personally visited me two weeks before his death,” the notary explained. “He was fully capable and clearly expressed this wish. According to him, it was Maria, not you, who cared for him during his illness.”
Maria quietly accepted the papers, feeling the decision was just. When Petr Nikolaevich was unwell, she was the one bringing him medicine, preparing special meals, and reading to him aloud.
That same day, Maria returned home holding the official apartment papers. Aunt Sveta and Uncle Dima sat watching television as if they owned the place.
“Pack your things,” Maria said firmly. “Right now.”
“Nonsense!” Uncle Dima dismissed her without looking away from the screen.
Maria laid a copy of the documents on the table.
Aunt Sveta jumped up, grabbing the papers.
“Forgery! This is a fake!”
“Verify with the notary yourself — the address is here.”
Uncle Dima’s face reddened.
“An outsider woman! This was our family home!”
“It was, but now it’s mine.” Maria calmly moved toward the wardrobe, pulling out their belongings. “If you won’t pack yourselves, I’ll help.”
“Vladimir!” Aunt Sveta yelled. “Will you let this woman throw out your own family?”
Vladimir stood in the doorway, pale and uncertain.
“Maria, let’s wait and talk calmly?”
“We’ve been ‘talking’ for six months. Now it’s my decision.”
She folded the unwanted guests’ belongings and moved them to the hallway. Uncle Dima attempted to stop her but was pushed away firmly.
“Don’t touch me, or I’ll report assault.”
“You’ll regret this!” Aunt Sveta shouted, hastily donning her coat.
“Try me,” Maria replied coldly before shutting the door.
Elena Mikhailovna sat stunned in the kitchen as the drama unfolded.
“Marochka, what about us? Where will I live?”
Maria sat beside her mother-in-law, taking her hand.
“Of course, you’re staying. You’re like a mother to me. But Vladimir needs a serious talk.”
Vladimir approached, still grappling with the situation.
“Maria, I don’t understand… How could dad…”
“Your father was wiser than all of us,” Maria interjected. “He realized you couldn’t defend your family.”
“But I tried…”
“You remained silent when they humiliated me. You agreed to sell the apartment and expel me and our child. You never stood up for your mother when Uncle Dima insulted her.”
Vladimir looked downcast.
“I didn’t want to fight with relatives…”
“And with me, you could?” Maria rose. “I’m filing for divorce tomorrow.”
“Maria, wait, let’s talk…”
“It’s too late. Three months ago, it might have been different.”
Vladimir tried to leave for the bedroom, but Maria stopped him.
“Maria! Where will I sleep then?”
“In the room your relatives vacated,” came a voice from behind the door. “A sofa’s there.”
“But that was our room! We are husband and wife!”
“We were. Tomorrow, the court will finalize it.”
Vladimir looked helplessly at his mother. Elena sighed deeply.
“Son, it’s your fault. A real man defends his family.”
“But Mom…”
“Stop acting weak. At forty, it’s time to grow up.”
The divorce proceeded quickly and quietly. Vladimir did not contest since the apartment belonged to Maria, and they shared no other property.
“Can I see my daughter?” he asked during the final hearing.
“Of course, you’re her father.”
“Could we try again? I’ve changed and understand my mistakes.”
Maria shook her head.
“Too late, Vladimir.”
One year later, Vladimir still occupied the small room formerly held by Aunt Sveta and Uncle Dima. Maria left him there out of pity — he was the father of her child.
Yet, their lives ran on separate tracks. He came home, dined with his mother, watched TV, and slept on the fold-out sofa. Maria lived in the spacious room with her daughter, invited friends over, and chatted freely.
- “How are you holding up?” asked her best friend Oksana.
- “I’m managing. No time for a personal life yet.”
- “And Vladimir? He lives so nearby…”
- “Vladimir belongs to the past. We only communicate for the child’s sake.”
Vladimir overheard and grimaced. He tried repeatedly to reconcile, but Maria remained firm.
“We can be friends,” she said. “Good friends. But not lovers.”
When Vladimir sought to start a new relationship, obstacles emerged. He couldn’t bring another woman into the shared home.
“Are you crazy?” Lena, his coworker, exclaimed. “I won’t date a man who lives with his ex-wife!”
“But we’re not together! We even have separate rooms!”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s wrong.”
Such conversations repeated. Women did not comprehend his circumstances and declined to be part of the situation.
Meanwhile, Maria flourished. She began remote work, traveled with her daughter, and transformed the apartment into a stylish, cozy haven.
“Maria, you’ve become truly beautiful,” Elena Mikhailovna remarked. “You radiate from within.”
“I’m happy,” Maria answered simply.
The daughter grew into a cheerful, kind child, free from scandals and stress, with no strangers intruding.
One evening, Vladimir could bear it no longer and knocked on Maria’s door.
“Can we talk?”
“Of course. Come in.”
He stepped into their former shared room, now completely changed with no trace of him.
“Maria, I admit I behaved poorly. But is there any chance?”
“Chance for what?”
“To be a family again. I’ve reconsidered many things.”
Maria shook her head.
“Vladimir, you’re a good man, but too weak. I cannot forget how you helped pack my things while Aunt Sveta and Uncle Dima mocked me.”
“I’ve changed!”
“Too late. I’ve changed as well — stronger and independent. And I like it.”
Lowering his head, Vladimir realized he had lost her forever — due to his indecision, fear of relatives, and failure to protect his family.
“We can be friends, for the child’s sake,” Maria added softly, “but not more. Also, you should consider finding a new place — it’s necessary for both of us.”
A month later, Vladimir remained in the small room, hoping for a miracle. Maria’s decision stood firm.
After putting her daughter to bed one evening, Maria sat by the window and smiled. No one could force her anymore — no uninvited guests, no unwanted decisions.
Her daughter slept soundly in the crib, Elena Mikhailovna read quietly in the kitchen, and somewhere in the distant room, Vladimir watched TV. Peace reigned in the home at last.
Maria took out her tablet, opening a dating site. Perhaps a new chapter in her personal life was ready to begin — slowly, without pressure or haste. Finally, she had the freedom to choose.
She was free. Truly free.