“You seem to have forgotten that this apartment belonged to me even before the wedding,” Lana snapped, looking at her husband, who suddenly decided to manage her property as if it were his own.
“Wait,” Artyom’s voice became uncertain. “Semyonich offered a great price. We could…”
– We? – Lana smiled bitterly. – No “we”, Artyom. There is my apartment. My inheritance. And your behind-the-scenes agreements behind my back.
She moved her fork half-heartedly around the plate with a piece of cake. The cream was smeared, the sponge was crumbling, but she had no appetite. Birthday… Another year behind her, but she felt as if she was stuck in one place.
Grandmother came to mind. Alexandra Yakovlevna. She always baked cakes herself. Sweet, fragrant, homemade. It had been three years since she had passed away, but Lana still caught herself thinking: I wish I could call and tell her how things were going.
– Why are you hanging there? – Artyom put his hand on her shoulder, looking into the plate. – Is it not tasty?
“No, I’m just remembering my grandmother,” Lana said quietly. “Remember how happy she was when we got married?”
The husband sighed.
– Alexandra Yakovlevna was a wise woman. And, by the way, she left you a gift for life…
Lana tensed up. It had begun. The conversation had turned to the apartment once again. The one that had been left to her by her grandmother – a two-room apartment in the center of Starogorsk. It was currently rented out and brought in a modest but stable income.
“I was thinking about it…” Artem began, pushing his plate away. “If I sell it…”
“Stop it,” Lana cut him off.
– Just listen! – He took her hand. – Look around. We live like in a communal apartment. The wallpaper is peeling off, the plumbing is leaking, the wiring is sparking. The money from the sale would change everything. New renovation. New life. Comfort. Modern. Like other people!
Lana glanced around the kitchen. Yes, it was desolate. But…
“We’ll save up,” she said calmly. “The apartment brings in money, maybe not much, but still.”
– Save up? – Artem snorted. – We’ll be living in this barn for another ten years! We need to think bigger.
Lana pressed her lips together. He had mentioned it before, slyly, with a hint. Now he insisted.
– Do you seriously want to live in this poverty for another ten years? – Artem raised his voice. – And now – order, comfort, technology. Everything will be there!
– And then what? – Lana asked calmly. – When the money runs out? The apartment will be gone. No income either. What will be left?
Artyom waved his hand.
— We’ll think of something. The main thing is to start.
– No, Artyom. – Lana pulled her hand away. – This is my grandmother’s inheritance. I’m not going to part with it.
He froze. His gaze became prickly. He stood up and pushed the chair back so hard that it scraped across the floor.
– As you wish.
Lana stood by the wall and watched him go. Something was wrong in their house. They used to decide everything together. Now he made decisions himself, presenting her with a fait accompli.
In recent weeks, Artyom seemed to have changed: he became tense, often whispered on the phone, disappeared into another room. And more and more often he returned to the conversation about selling the apartment. Lana hesitated, not knowing what was behind it.
One evening, returning home, she heard a quarrel in the kitchen. It was not just a conversation. It was a conspiracy. Artyom spoke irritably, almost angrily:
– Mom, I’ll sort it out. Lana doesn’t understand yet that this is the best way out.
– Well, don’t coddle her, – the voice of the mother-in-law, Nelly Vladimirovna, was sharp. – You said that a buyer was found?
– Yes. Semyonich is ready to buy it right away. And he offered a reasonable price.
– Excellent! – the mother-in-law beamed. – Convince your stubborn woman and don’t hesitate. We can’t live like we’re at a train station forever.
Lana’s hands went cold. They had decided everything without her. The buyer, the price, the persuasion.
“The problem is that he won’t wait long,” Artem continued. “He says he has other options.”
– Well, don’t drag it out! – the mother-in-law hissed. – You’re a man. Make her do it. This isn’t the first time we’ve been involved in something like this. Make her sign it.
“I can’t do this,” Artem whispered. “She trusts me.”
– Well, take advantage of it! – Nelly said through gritted teeth. – It will be better for her! And if she doesn’t understand, it’s her own fault.
Lana slowly moved away from the door. Everything became clear. And painful.
Outside, she sat down on a bench, trying to collect her thoughts. Everything was falling apart. Marriage, trust, hope. The phone rang.
– Hello?
– Where are you? I’m worried, – Artyom’s voice.
“I’ll be there soon,” Lana didn’t explain. She simply hung up.
When I returned, I saw my husband at the door. He was smiling.
– I have news! Semyonich agrees to the purchase. Here are the papers, look at the amount!
Lana took the sheets as if they were burning. The amount was impressive. But her husband’s gaze… was alien.
– And when were you going to say that there was already a buyer?
– That’s what I’m saying now! Can you imagine what kind of repairs we’ll do? It’ll even be enough for a car.
– What else did you and Mom agree on? – Lana looked him intently in the eyes.
Artyom’s smile faded.
— Did you… hear?
– Yes. I just came home a little earlier. And now I know who I’m sharing my life with.
He took a step towards her – she retreated.
– Lana, you got it wrong! We were just discussing…
– And the buyer? Already found. Without me.
– Semyonich offered a good price. We could…
– There is no “we”, Artyom. There is my apartment. Mine. And your intrigues behind my back.
At that moment the doorbell rang. On the threshold was the mother-in-law, smiling.
– Lanochka! I have some news for you…
– Maybe you can tell me how you were going to force me to sign the papers?
Nellie froze. For a moment, then became rigid again.
– You got it all wrong. We want to help you!
— Help sell an apartment and invest in a business? Which doesn’t even exist?
– Well… part of it would go to me. For treatment.
“You’re healthy, aren’t you?” Lana stared at her.
– I didn’t want to say…
– And I wanted to know who I live with. And who I don’t want to live with anymore.
Later, thanks to a friend, Lana learned that Semenych was a fraudster, and that he had several such stories. The husband and mother-in-law participated consciously.
The next morning, Lana packed her things. The apartment was still hers. But the marriage was not.
