In the center of her humble three-room apartment, Svetlana stood silently, overwhelmed by the years of sacrifices and perseverance that had culminated in this moment. Her dreams materialized in the bare walls that, after relentless efforts, finally belonged to her alone.
Just then, her mother entered, carrying cleaning supplies. “Daughter, why are you just standing there? Let’s start tidying up before your father arrives with the wallpaper,” she urged.
Svetlana’s eyes roamed the empty space. “Mom, it’s mine. Do you realize? Completely and truly mine,” she whispered, gripped by emotion. Her mother responded with a warm smile and a comforting embrace.
The following months were consumed by continuous visits to hardware stores. Every weekend, her father brought tools, and together they selected bathroom tiles and paint shades. “Sveta, keep the roller straight,” her father advised patiently. “Take your time; don’t rush.” The apartment gradually transformed, reflecting Svetlana’s heartfelt vision of a cozy home. Even as she noticed her parents’ fatigue after work, their support never waned.
A year later, during a corporate dinner at a restaurant, Svetlana found herself seated beside Andrey, a newly hired programmer from a small town 300 kilometers outside Moscow. Tall and broad-shouldered with an infectious smile, Andrey seemed both nervous and genuine.
“You all seem so metropolitan here,” he admitted, fiddling with his napkin. “I moved only a month ago. Everything feels unfamiliar.”
“Unfamiliar how?” Svetlana inquired, intrigued.
“Everywhere!” Andrey chuckled. “Back home, everyone knows everyone. But here… just yesterday, I got lost in the metro.” Svetlana shared his laughter, appreciating his simplicity and sincerity.
After dating two months, Andrey invited her to meet his family. “A heads-up,” he warned as they traversed a dusty road, “we keep things simple—nothing like Moscow.” Gazing at endless fields, Svetlana understood.
Their destination was a large but aging house where Andrey’s parents, two brothers, and younger sister awaited. His mother warmly embraced Svetlana on arrival, exclaiming, “What a beauty! Come in, the table’s ready!”.
During dinner, stories flew fast. Brothers shared childhood memories of Andrey, the sister peppered Svetlana with questions about Moscow, while the father ate quietly, nodding occasionally.
“Do you have an apartment?” Andrey’s mother queried.
“Yes, a three-room flat,” Svetlana answered with modest pride.
“Three rooms in Moscow?” the older brother whistled in surprise. “You must be wealthy!” Svetlana felt a pang of embarrassment, wanting to explain the years of saving. Andrey swiftly changed the subject.
“What about your parents?” his mother continued.
“My father is an engineer, and my mother works as an accountant,” Svetlana replied courteously.
“So, intellectuals,” came the subtle, disapproving tone from Andrey’s mother.
The journey home that night was marked by silence. Andrey glanced repeatedly at Svetlana, attempting to gauge her feelings.
“They’re good people, just…” he began.
“Just different,” Svetlana completed softly. “I understand.”
Their wedding followed six months later. While Svetlana’s parents dreamed of a formal restaurant ceremony, Andrey’s family insisted on a simple village celebration.
“Why the fancy stuff?” his mother declared. “We’ll gather in the yard, set tables, and celebrate our way.” Yielding, Svetlana agreed. On the wedding day, the village gathered. Accordion music, folk tunes, and lively games filled the air. Svetlana’s parents quietly observed the vibrant festivities, slightly bewildered.
“Kiss!” guests clamored repeatedly. As Svetlana and Andrey embraced, she believed love could bridge their differences, comforted by his firm grasp of her hand.
Post-wedding life began in Svetlana’s apartment, the initial months filled with joy and bustling domesticity. However, after six months, visitors became frequent.
- First, Andrey’s mother appeared at the door with hefty bags, pleading, “Just a week, Svetočka!”
- Next, his older brother came by.
- Subsequently, his younger brother arrived with his sister.
Though never all simultaneously, someone was almost always staying in their home. Svetlana’s anxiety grew, but Andrey dismissed her concerns.
“It’s family, Sveta! How could I refuse them?” he reasoned.
“But they come so often!” she murmured urgently. “It feels less like our apartment and more like a train station.”
“You’re overreacting,” Andrey reassured, hugging her. “So, they visited. What’s the harm?”
Patience snapped when Andrey’s parents arrived unannounced and lingered for two weeks. His mother rearranged the kitchen cabinets while his father blared the television nonstop.
“Enough!” Svetlana declared firmly during their fourteenth consecutive shared meal. “I’m sorry, but it’s time for you to go home.”
“What do you mean, time?” his mother blinked in disbelief. “We came to see our son!”
“Your son can visit anytime,” Svetlana responded coolly. “But you cannot live here permanently.”
That evening, Andrey erupted with anger. Svetlana had never witnessed such fury from him before.
“You kicked my parents out! How could you?” he shouted.
“They stayed for two whole weeks!” she countered. “This is not a hotel; it’s our home!”
For weeks, silence engulfed their relationship. Then, one dinner, Andrey revealed a startling fact.
“My parents are selling their house and plan to move to the city,” he said quietly.
Relieved, Svetlana replied cautiously, “That’s good. It should be easier for them.” Andrey nodded but said no more.
Three weeks later, Svetlana returned from work to a hallway overflowing with bags and boxes. Kitchen voices echoed as she entered slowly. Around her table sat Andrey’s entire family.
“Svetočka’s home!” his mother exclaimed gleefully. “We’ll stay here for now to explore neighborhoods. A wise apartment purchase is important!”
Svetlana gazed silently at Andrey, who refused to meet her eyes.
“For long?” she whispered.
“Not long, a couple of weeks,” his father shrugged. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep quiet.”
Distraught, Svetlana retreated to her bedroom and locked the door, hands trembling with fury. Andrey followed.
“You should have warned me!” she hissed.
“They called this morning,” he defended himself. “I couldn’t say no.”
Weeks passed, yet the family settled in as if permanent. Brothers spread belongings in the living room; the sister claimed the second bedroom; the parents dominated the kitchen. Svetlana drifted through her days, avoiding home.
By the third week, she reached a breaking point. Searching for her phone charger in Andrey’s nightstand, Svetlana instead found registration documents, all listing her apartment’s address but lacking the owner’s signature.
Infuriated, she stormed into the kitchen where Andrey was pouring tea.
“What’s this?” she demanded, thrusting the papers toward him.
Andrey turned pale as the room fell silent under the family’s gaze.
“Sveta, I can explain…” he began.
“Explain what? Planning to register your whole family here without telling me?” she snapped.
“We thought you’d understand,” his mother intervened. “We’re family!”
“Your family won’t be registered here,” Svetlana asserted firmly.
“Don’t yell,” Andrey tried to hold her hand.
“Don’t touch me!” she pulled away. “Did you all conspire? Think I’d just accept this?”
“No one thought that,” his father said. “But selling the house didn’t raise enough funds for a proper apartment. We only planned a temporary stay…”
“Temporary?” Svetlana scoffed bitterly. “With registration? That’s permanent!”
“What’s wrong with that?” Andrey’s brother shrugged. “There’s enough room.”
“Wrong, because this is my apartment!” Svetlana’s voice trembled with rage. “I saved for years; my parents helped renovate. You just want to move in?”
“Svetlana, you’re married to my son,” his mother said gently. “That means the apartment belongs to both of you.”
“No!” Svetlana’s glare pierced Andrey. “I bought it before marriage and won’t let it become a boarding house!”
Suddenly, Andrey shouted, “You’re selfish! You only think of yourself!”
Those words wounded her deeply. Despite enduring his family and compromising over months, now she was labeled selfish. The injustice stirred a fierce storm within.
“Selfish? Me, who tolerated your family all this time?”
“Sveta, we’re family, not strangers,” his mother tried to reason.
“To me, you appear as strangers!” Svetlana turned on her. Her pounding heart made her feel utterly exposed. “You never even asked permission! You just showed up, declaring you would live here!”
“We intended the best,” his mother explained, wringing her hands. “Proceeds from the house sale cover only a one-room apartment. How could all of us fit otherwise?”
“And why should you fit in my apartment?” Torn between rage and despair, Svetlana pressed her palms to the table.
“Sveta, be reasonable. This is my family!” Andrey approached her.
“And what am I to you?” Her voice cracked. Tears welled but refused to fall. “Your wife or simply the owner of a convenient apartment?”
Silence enveloped the kitchen. Andrey’s silence spoke volumes. Inside, Svetlana felt something shatter utterly. Years of saving, renovations with her parents, dreams of happiness—they all lay in ruins.
“We can find compromise,” his father suggested.
“Compromise?” Svetlana laughed bitterly through tears. “You lived here three weeks uninvited! Planned registrations behind my back!”
“Sveta, I thought you’d understand,” Andrey slumped into a chair. “They’re my family.”
“And betraying me is acceptable?” Her chest tightened painfully.
Determined, she seized the documents and tore them apart, scattering shards across the table. His mother gasped in alarm.
“What are you doing?”
“What I should have done long ago,” Svetlana declared resolutely. “Everyone out of my apartment. You have one hour to pack.”
“You wouldn’t evict us in the dead of night!” his father protested.
“I would. Including you, Andrey,” she looked him in the eye—the man she once loved now a stranger. “Pack your belongings.”
“Do you wish to end up alone?” Andrey’s voice was threatening.
“Yes,” Svetlana replied firmly. “Better alone than with a traitor.”
Locking herself on the balcony, Svetlana allowed tears to flow freely for the first time since the ordeal began. Though divorce loomed, one certainty remained: the apartment was hers, as was her right to live by her own rules.
Key Insight: This poignant narrative highlights the complexities of balancing love, family loyalty, and personal boundaries, reminding us that home is not just a place but a sanctuary deserving respect and mutual understanding.