Yulia released a tired sigh as she glanced toward the living room where Svetlana, Nikita’s older sister, was seated. Slightly senior to Yulia, Svetlana always carried herself with a hint of superiority that was hard to miss.
“Nikit, I need to speak with you,” she said, breaking the quiet.
Nikita set his phone aside and regarded his sister with full attention. Meanwhile, Yulia remained frozen in place, clutching her teacup tightly, bracing herself for what she sensed would be an uncomfortable discussion.
“I’m all ears,” Nikita responded cautiously.
“Here’s the deal—I desperately require a car,” Svetlana began, nervously fiddling with her handbag strap. “I’m fed up with public transportation. Everyone at my workplace owns a car except me.”
Money-related talks in their family typically ended in disputes, and this was no exception.
“I understand,” Nikita replied slowly. “And what exactly are you proposing?”
“I found an excellent offer,” Svetlana said, her face brightening. “I can secure a loan, but I need a down payment of just over five hundred thousand.”
Yulia nearly choked on her tea—half a million was close to half their savings earmarked for their own apartment!
“Sveta, that’s a significant sum,” Nikita responded with caution.
“I realize that!” his sister exclaimed. “But you have to understand, I truly need a car. I’ll figure out how to pay off the rest on my own.”
Yulia glanced at her husband, silently pleading for him to refuse. They had been renting a tiny two-room flat for two years, scrimping every penny to afford their own place—a simple home with a bedroom, living room, and minuscule kitchen.
“Nikit,” Svetlana softly tugged at his sleeve, “you’ll help your sister, won’t you?”
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply. Yulia recognized the look in his eyes—he was ready to comply, which terrified her.
“I need to think this over,” he finally said.
“You can’t take too long,” Svetlana urged. “The car could sell to someone else.”
Thirty minutes later, Svetlana had gone, leaving tension hanging in the air. Yulia escorted her to the door while Nikita lingered in the hallway, leaning against the wall and staring gloomily at the floor.
“Nikit,” Yulia called out, “Are you really going to give her our money?”
He looked up, frowning, and without uttering a word, his eyes spoke volumes.
“Yul, she’s my sister,” Nikita said, his tone gentle but firm. “She reached out for help.”
“And what about our apartment?” Yulia whispered, trying to maintain calm despite her trembling voice. “We’ve saved for two years to buy our own place!”
“We’ll save again,” he shrugged off. “But Sveta genuinely needs a car.”
“And we need our own apartment!” Yulia snapped louder. “I’m sick of renting, paying for someone else’s property!”
“Don’t raise your voice,” Nikita warned coldly. “The neighbors will hear.”
“I don’t care about the neighbors!” she retorted, stepping closer. “You’re about to hand over half a million to your sister without even consulting me!”
“I’m the head of this family,” Nikita interrupted sharply. “I make the decisions.”
Yulia stared at him as if he were a stranger. The man who had once promised her a shared future now seemed unfamiliar.
“So, your sister matters more than our family?” she asked softly.
“Don’t phrase it so harshly,” Nikita muttered, retreating to the bedroom.
Left in the hallway, Yulia felt engulfed by bitterness and despair. She silently prepared for work and left, slamming the door behind her.
“Financial disputes can often fracture relationships, especially when trust falters.”
Two weeks passed in uneasy silence. Nikita avoided any discussion about money, while Yulia refrained from bringing it up, hoping he might reconsider.
On a Saturday morning, standing on their third-floor balcony with a steaming cup of coffee, Yulia noticed a gleaming new red car pulling up at their entrance. Svetlana stepped out of the driver’s seat and carefully wiped away dust from the hood with a soft cloth before retrieving a beautifully boxed cake from the trunk.
Yulia froze—Nikita had indeed given her the funds, without informing her. Moments later, a doorbell rang. Expecting the visitor, Yulia opened the door.
“Yulechka!” Svetlana greeted cheerfully, presenting the cake. “Celebrate with me—I bought a car!”
That afternoon, all three sat together in the kitchen. Svetlana enthusiastically described her purchase.
“Can you believe how stunning it is?” she beamed. “The color is sublime, and inside, it’s so comfortable! Nikitka, thank you—I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Nikita smiled and nodded, deliberately avoiding Yulia’s gaze. She poked at the cake quietly, realizing that her money had contributed to the purchase as well.
“And the best part,” Svetlana added gleefully, “I’m independent now! I can drive to the beach or to work in another town whenever I please.”
Yulia’s voice was dry. “Very convenient to use other people’s money.”
Svetlana looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
Yulia rose and said coldly, “Nothing much, just wondering how many more of our dreams will be postponed to fulfill your desires.”
Nikita cautioned, “Yul, don’t start.”
She turned to him. “Why shouldn’t I? I’m simply stating facts. We were saving for an apartment, but the money went into buying a car for your sister.”
Svetlana interjected. “Yulia, you misunderstand. Nikita helped a family member in a tough spot.”
“What tough spot?” Yulia exploded. “You have a job! Pay for your choices yourself!”
Nikita abruptly stood. “Enough! I won’t let you speak about my sister like that!”
Yulia looked between her husband and Svetlana’s smug expression, realizing she could not remain in the room any longer.
“Fine,” she said icily, leaving the kitchen. She quickly dressed and exited the apartment. Outside, she wandered aimlessly through familiar courtyards, sorting through her swirling thoughts. Gradually, anger and resentment gave way to clarity. Money wasn’t everything; she loved her husband, and ending their marriage over this matter would not be wise.
After about an hour, Yulia returned home. Svetlana was gone, and Nikita sat in the living room, his face etched with regret.
“Yul, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I never wanted it to come to this.”
She sat down beside him and took his hand in hers. “I understand she’s your sister,” she said. “But next time, let’s discuss these serious decisions together.”
Nikita nodded and embraced her tightly.
- Months went by with relative peace.
- Nikita ceased providing money to Svetlana.
- Their savings for the apartment began again.
- Yulia almost put the unpleasant incident behind her.
Then, one evening when Nikita was working late, Yulia received a phone call from an unfamiliar number.
“Yulia Sergeevna?” an official voice asked. “This is the notary’s office with important news.”
Feeling an unexpected tension, Yulia replied, “I’m listening.”
“You are named the heir in the will of your grandfather, Sergey Ivanovich Morozov,” the notary stated. “The inheritance totals seven million rubles.”
Yulia was stunned; her paternal grandfather was someone she barely knew since her father had left when she was a child.
“Are you certain?” she questioned.
“Absolutely,” confirmed the notary. “You may come tomorrow to complete the paperwork.”
That evening, presenting the news at dinner, Yulia shared the information with Nikita.
“Seven million?” Nikita repeated, setting down his fork. “Are you serious?”
“Indeed,” Yulia nodded. “Now we can purchase a proper, spacious three-room apartment.”
Nikita hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Congratulations; that’s amazing!”
Her mind envisioned bright rooms and a large kitchen—their dream finally within reach.
While the process took more than two months amid bureaucratic hurdles, the payoff was undeniable: a substantial sum appeared in her bank account.
One evening, all three sat together again; this time an unexpected guest joined them—Svetlana.
“I heard about your inheritance,” she commented as she cut herself some bread. “Luck is on your side! Just seven million, like that.”
“Not just like that,” Yulia replied cautiously. “My grandfather left it to me.”
“Well, anyway, you’re lucky,” Svetlana said dismissively. “I’d love to own my own apartment, but how could I ever save?”
Yulia nodded absentmindedly, her mind drifting to real estate listings and imagining their future home.
Three weeks later, Yulia discovered the perfect apartment: a beautifully renovated three-room flat on the secondary market, fully furnished and ready for immediate move-in.
That night, she showed Nikita photos on her tablet in their bedroom.
“Look how lovely!” she exclaimed. “Spacious kitchen, sunny bedroom, even a separate study.”
Nikita browsed the pictures, nodding approvingly, though something in his tone was unsettling.
The following morning, Yulia woke to voices in the hallway. Peeking through the door, she recognized Svetlana’s voice.
“I’ve already bought it,” Svetlana whispered. “A two-room flat in a new building facing the park. I’m moving in tomorrow!”
“And how do I break the news to Yul that the money’s gone?” Nikita asked quietly.
Yulia froze. “What money?”
“That’s not my concern,” Svetlana answered coldly. “You deal with your wife yourself.”
The front door slammed shut. Nikita turned to see Yulia fully opening the bedroom door. Time seemed to hold still.
“What money did your sister spend?” Yulia asked softly.
Nikita paled, attempting to brush past her.
“Yul, calm down, let’s talk,” he urged.
“Answer me!” she blocked his path. “What money was spent?”
“It’s complicated,” he evaded.
Yulia quickly accessed her banking app on her phone; the balance showed one hundred thousand rubles remaining, the rest vanished.
“Your sister spent my money?!” Yulia shouted.
“She didn’t spend it,” Nikita insisted. “I gave her the money for an apartment.”
“Without my approval?” Yulia could scarcely believe it. “That was my inheritance!”
“Sveta needed a place to live,” Nikita justified. “I had to help as her brother.”
“And I’m supposed to accept that as your wife?” Yulia lost control. “That was my money—my dream!”
“Calm down!” Nikita tried to grasp her hands. “We will figure this out!”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” Yulia said, pulling away. “You stole my future!”
She rushed to the bedroom and began packing her belongings. Nikita followed, desperation in his voice, but Yulia no longer wanted to listen.
Soon after, she left for her mother’s place.
The divorce that followed was long and painful. Yulia sued to reclaim her stolen funds. Forced to settle, Nikita and Svetlana sold the apartment and reimbursed the entire inheritance.
Half a year later, Yulia stood within the very three-room apartment she had once chosen. It had waited for her all this time, as if destined. Now it was truly her home—spacious, bright, brimming only with her own hopes and ambitions.
Conclusion: This story reveals the fragile nature of trust within families when finances are involved. Despite the pain caused by betrayal, Yulia’s perseverance restored her independence and secured her future. It stands as a powerful reminder that safeguarding one’s dreams and communicating openly are essential in preserving both relationships and personal aspirations.