“We are giving our apartment to my brother, and we will stay with my mother for a while,” my husband informed me, not even glancing up from his phone.
Natalia froze at the stove. Their son was doing homework in the adjacent room, while their daughter peacefully slept in her crib. An ordinary evening turned into sheer nonsense.
“What?!” she gasped, hardly able to comprehend.
“Sasha and Lena are expecting their second child. They live with her mother in a one-bedroom apartment with the first one. It’s cramped for them. We can stay at my mom’s until we save up enough for something proper,” he explained.
Andrey finally looked away from the screen, gazing at his wife as if he were clarifying the obvious.
“Don’t stress about it. Sasha is my brother. His living situation matters to me,” he added.
“When did you decide this?!” Natalia’s voice trembled.
“I spoke with mom yesterday. She’s completely on board. She has plenty of space for us,” he replied nonchalantly.
“And you didn’t think to consult me?” she questioned, incredulous.
Andrey shrugged his shoulders.
“Natasha, there’s nothing to discuss here. You understand this is temporary. We will help my brother, and later we will find something suitable for ourselves.”
“Suitable?! We live in a three-bedroom apartment! In a lovely building!”
“What defines ‘lovely’? It’s just a standard block. Not a luxury place,” he dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand.
“Standard block?! You must be joking! We have a renovated interior! Two bathrooms! A glassed-in balcony!” she exclaimed, unable to believe what she heard.
“Natasha, don’t cling to those square meters,” he said patronizingly. “We are not destitute. We can buy something better than this.”
Natalia sank onto a stool, her hands trembling.
“With what money?”
“We will earn it! I’m not some kind of loser,” he replied confidently.
“Andrey!” she nearly shouted, feeling frustration creep in. “We have five more years on the mortgage! A credit for the kitchen! A loan for the car!”
“So what?” he shrugged indifferently. “Sasha will pay for it.”
“And is he aware he’ll be responsible for payments?”
“He’ll learn. I’ll tell him later.”
Later? Natalia stared at her husband in disbelief. Could he truly forget how they bought this apartment?
Eight years ago, they rented a two-bedroom apartment in an old building. Their son was three, and their daughter hadn’t been born yet. Natalia dreamed of a spacious home where their children could thrive.
“This one will do,” she said to the realtor, showing an ad. “Three bedrooms, brick building, good layout.”
“It’s too expensive,” Andrey hesitated. “Maybe something simpler?”
“Andrey, we are doing this for our children. They are growing, and they need space.”
“Of course, of course,” he nodded. “But the mortgage is for ten years.”
“We have maternity capital available,” Natalia reminded him. “And your bonus. We can manage.”
Paperwork took a long time. Natalia ran around various offices, gathering documentation and choosing a bank, while Andrey was busy with important projects.
“You know about this stuff,” he said. “Numbers and percentages are your area.”
Natalia knew what to do. She compared offers, searching for favorable rates.
The apartment was in good condition but needed updates. Soviet-era repairs, outdated plumbing, worn floors.
“What a disaster,” Andrey lamented. “For this price, we could’ve found something better.”
“But the neighborhood is excellent,” Natalia reassured him. “A school nearby, a kindergarten, a clinic.”
“What neighborhood?” he scoffed. “Just a typical residential area.”
They did the repairs themselves, as they could not afford builders. Natalia researched online, watched tutorials, and selected materials.
“We’ll wallpaper ourselves,” she decided. “We’ll save thirty thousand.”
“That’s going to look crooked,” Andrey grumbled. “We don’t have the skills.”
“We’ll learn. The main thing is to be careful.”
They worked on it evenings and weekends. Natalia armed with a ruler and level, Andrey with a frown. Their son “helped” by passing tools.
It took three weeks to lay the laminate. Natalia read instructions while Andrey cut the boards. They argued, made up, and then argued again.
“We should’ve hired professionals,” Andrey said angrily. “Why are we torturing ourselves?”
“Because it’s cheaper,” Natalia patiently explained. “We’ll save forty thousand.”
“Forty thousand!” he scoffed. “So what? It’s about nerves and time.”
It’s easy to say that when your wallet is empty, Natalia thought.
A year later, they bought a kitchen. They saved every penny.
“What about something simpler?” she suggested at the showroom. “An economy model.”
“What are you talking about?!” Andrey replied indignantly. “We’re not poor. Let’s buy a decent one. No reason to skimp!”
“But it’s forty thousand more…”
“Natasha, don’t embarrass yourself. What will people think?”
They chose the more expensive option. On credit. In Natalia’s name.
Furniture was bought piece by piece. A sofa first, then a wardrobe, then a bed. Each loan was taken under Natalia’s name.
“Your credit history is better,” Andrey explained. “Banks trust you more.”
Natalia didn’t argue. She took loans, calculated payments, and stuck to the budget.
Two years later, the apartment transformed. Bright rooms, quality furniture, modern appliances. Friends admired it.
“Your place is beautiful!” they remarked, “What a euro renovation!”
“I did it myself,” Andrey proudly stated. “With my own hands.”
“We did it,” Natalia corrected him. “As a family.”
“Sure, as a family,” he agreed.
Yet, during conversations with colleagues, Andrey often emphasized:
“The apartment doesn’t matter to me. What counts is having a family nearby and they are happy.”
“I’d live in a studio as long as I can be with someone,” he would add.
Natalia was baffled. Why does he undermine their home?
“Andrey, why do you say that?” she asked one day.
“What do you mean?”
“Saying the apartment isn’t important. We’ve put so much effort into it!”
“That’s how it is. Happiness isn’t measured in square meters.”
“Then why did we renovate?”
“For comfort. Plus, you wanted it. But I’m not fixated on this.”
Natalia couldn’t grasp this logic.
Then came the “gifts” for relatives.
The first was for a nephew’s birthday. The boy was entering college and needed a laptop.
“That’s expensive,” Natalia hesitated. “Fifty thousand.”
“Nonsense!” Andrey waved her off. “The kid is studying. We need to help.”
“But we have loans…”
“Natasha, why are you acting like a pauper! We’re not destitute.”
They bought the laptop. On credit. In Natalia’s name.
“Last time,” Andrey promised.
A month later, his mother requested help with treatment for a paid procedure.
“One hundred thousand,” she said. “I understand it’s a lot…”
“Mom, what are you saying!” Andrey exclaimed. “Of course, we’ll help!”
“Andrey,” Natalia said quietly. “Where will we find one hundred thousand?”
“We’ll borrow it. No problem.”
“From whom?”
“At the bank. Personal loan.”
“Again in my name?”
“Because it’s easier for you. Your salary is stable, your credit history is impressive now.”
They borrowed the money. His mother received the operation. Andrey told everyone:
“I don’t regret it. A mother is worth more than money.”
“Money isn’t the most important thing in life,” he added.
Natalia remained silent. She calculated the interest and planned payments.
Then the younger brother married. Andrey decided to gift the newlyweds a honeymoon.
“Turkey, all inclusive,” he announced. “Let them have a good time.”
“How much will that cost?” Natalia asked.
“One hundred fifty thousand. But is money the main thing?”
“Andrey, we haven’t had a vacation in three years!”
“We will have time. Their wedding is a once-in-a-lifetime event. I want to give my brother an extravagant gift!”
“But we have children. They need vacations too.”
“The kids will be fine at the dacha. They’re not spoiled.”
They purchased the trip. On credit. In Natalia’s name.
“Last time,” Andrey promised once more.
But he didn’t keep that promise.
A colleague asked to borrow money. A friend requested a guarantee. A distant relative needed help with a car.
“I’m generous,” Andrey justified himself. “I can’t say no.”
“Money comes and goes,” he philosophized. “What matters is a clean conscience and helping others in tough times.”
Natalia’s soul was not at peace; it was exhausted. She juggled two jobs, saved on everything, and counted every penny.
“Maybe I should find a side job too?” Andrey suggested one day.
“Why don’t you?” Natalia replied wearily.
“But not anything physically demanding. I’m not a mover.”
“Of course, you aren’t.”
“And not on weekends. Family time is important too.”
“Of course, family time.”
He didn’t find a side job. But he found new reasons to spend more money.
Relatives grew accustomed to his generosity. They called, asked, and relied on him.
“Andrey always helps,” they said. “A golden person.”
“Not stingy,” others added. “Big-hearted.”
Meanwhile, Natalia supported the family budget. She paid the loans. She maintained the image of a “successful husband.”
The children grew. Their son needed a good school, and their daughter sought developmental activities. Natalia economized on everything to provide the best for her kids.
“What about a regular school?” Andrey proposed. “Why overspend?”
“Education is an investment,” Natalia countered.
“Come on. I went to a regular school and turned out fine.”
“Times have changed. The competition is tougher.”
“Well, if you insist…”
Natalia insisted. She paid for everything. She worked hard for it.
Andrey continued to play the role of a successful man. Even at home, even with her.
“This apartment isn’t the limit,” he claimed. “Someday we’ll get something serious.”
“What serious?” Natalia asked.
“A cottage. Or a flat in a luxury building.”
“With what money?”
“We will earn it.”
Natalia stayed silent, calculating the debts in her mind—real money, not dreamy plans.
And now he decided to give away their home. Without asking. Without consulting.
“Andrey,” she said, striving to remain calm. “I am categorically against this.”
“Against? Why?” he was surprised.
“Because this is our house. Our children’s home.”
“So what? We can find another home, an even better one.”
“With what money?”
“We will earn it. I told you, I’m not a failure.”
“Andrey!” Natalia couldn’t hold back any longer. “Have you forgotten how many loans we have?”
“I haven’t forgotten. But it’s not permanent.”
“What if Sasha doesn’t want to move out later?”
“He will. He’s not selfish.”
“Like your friend who borrowed and disappeared?”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?!”
“Sasha is my brother. He is family.”
“And what are we? Are we not family?!”
“Of course, we are family. But…”
“But what?!”
“But we are not small-minded.”
Natalia stood up and approached the window. Children were playing outside, their neighbors. Their world.
“Andrey,” she said without turning around. “Do you remember how we bought this apartment?”
“Of course, I remember. We bought it together.”
“Who handled the paperwork?”
“You did. But we did it together.”
“Who did the repairs?”
“We did it. Together.”
“Who chose the materials? Who compared prices?”
“You did. But I helped. Who did you think did all this work?”
“Who took loans for the furniture?”
“You did. But it was for the family—it’s common.”
“Who makes those payments now?”
“We both do. From our shared budget.”
“Shared budget?! Why are you yelling?” Natalia exploded. “It’s my budget! I work two jobs! I save on everything! I pay for your gifts to relatives!”
“Natasha, don’t raise your voice. The children will hear.”
“Let them hear! Let them know how their dad shows his ‘big-heartedness!’”
“I didn’t mean to…”
“I know!” Natalia turned toward her husband. “You want to be seen as good! Generous! Successful!”
“Well, yes…”
“But you forgot to ask, at whose expense!”
“At our expense. At the family’s.”
“At the family’s?! This is the credit agreement for the kitchen. Whose signature is this?”
“Yours…”
“This is the agreement for the furniture. Whose signature?”
“Yours…”
“This is the income statement. Whose salary?”
“Yours… But…”
“No ‘buts!’” Natalia hurled the folder onto the table. “I spent seven years building this home! Seven years working tirelessly! Seven years supporting your facade of a generous husband!”
“Natasha, please calm down…”
“I will not calm down!” she trembled with fury. “You gave everything to appear kind! But the sacrifice was not yours!”
“That’s unfair…”
“Unfair?! You know what’s unfair? You decided the fate of my house without consulting me!”
“Our house…”
“Mine!” she yelled. “My house! My money! My loans! My effort!”
“Natasha, the children…”
“Our children!” she pointed toward the nursery. “Who will go live with grandma because dad decided to play the generous guy!”
Andrey remained silent. For the first time in years, he didn’t know what to say.
“Andrey,” Natalia continued in a quieter voice, though her tone wavered. “When you decided to give away our house, where did you put me?”
“What do you mean by where?”
“What did you think of me? A decor for your generous persona?”
“Of course not…”
“Then why didn’t you ask?”
“I thought you would understand…”
“Understand what? That my voice in this family doesn’t matter?”
“It does! Of course, it does!”
“Then why didn’t you ask?!”
“I… I didn’t think…”
“Didn’t think,” Natalia repeated. “Eight years of marriage. Two kids. A shared home. And you didn’t think to ask your wife.”
“Natasha, forgive me. I will fix this.”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s not too late! I’ll find a second job! I’ll rent an apartment for us!”
“Why?”
“So we don’t have to stay at my mom’s!”
“And our house?”
“Natasha, this is just temporary…”
“Temporary?” she shook her head. “Andrey, you still don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?”
“Forget you!”
On the following day, Natalia arranged to see a lawyer. She took her children, the documents, and went to assert her rights.
“Divorce?” the lawyer clarified.
“Divorce,” Natalia affirmed firmly.
Andrey didn’t grasp what was happening. He rushed around the house, called his mother, called her, begging “not to break the family.”
“Natasha, this is foolishness! To get divorced over an apartment!”
“Not over the apartment,” she answered calmly. “But because my opinion in this family doesn’t matter to anyone.”
“It does matter! Of course, it does!”
“Then why didn’t you ask?”
“I thought…”
“Thought what?”
“That you would agree.”
“Why did you think that?”
“Because… because it’s right. Helping my brother.”
“And helping your wife isn’t right?”
“What help? What are you talking about?”
“Asking my opinion. Considering my interests.”
“But I wasn’t against you…”
“Not against. Just forgot that I exist.”
The property division was fair. The apartment was registered in both names, but the major investments—maternity capital and loans—were in Natalia’s name.
The judge took her contributions into account. Andrey received less than he expected.
“This is unjust,” he protested. “I worked too!”
“Worked,” Natalia agreed. “And spent on gifts. Without asking.”
“I promised it would be the last time!”
“You promised,” she nodded. “Just like always.”
“Natasha, come back! I will change! What are you making up?”
“I am not coming back,” she stated. “I will not continue to cover your expenses and your superficial generosity. First, start earning enough, and then give away our only apartment!”
Natalia stayed in the apartment with her children. Andrey moved in with his mother, just as he had intended.
Only now, he lived there not temporarily, but permanently.
His brother never got the apartment. Natalia made sure of that.