“And when are you going to transfer the apartment to my daughter’s name? How much longer do we have to wait?” the mother-in-law demanded indignantly.
Ksenia was sitting on the floor among cardboard boxes, holding the keys to her very own apartment. Twenty-six years of life, and finally she had her own place.
“I can’t believe this is mine,” Ksenia whispered, looking around the empty room.
Sunlight streamed through the large windows. The one-room apartment seemed like a palace after years of renting cramped corners. Years of saving, of giving up entertainment, of eating cheap pasta had all paid off in this moment.
The following months flew by in a pleasant bustle. Ksenia renovated the flat with her own hands—painting the walls a soft beige, hanging wallpaper with a delicate floral pattern. She chose every detail of the interior with special care.
“Which lamp will you take?” the saleswoman in the store asked.
“That one, with the shade,” Ksenia replied, pointing to an elegant lamp. “It will fit perfectly.”
The apartment was gradually turning into a cozy little nest: a soft sofa by the window, a small table, shelves of books. Every morning Ksenia woke up with a smile. It was her space, her refuge.
The company’s corporate party took place at a downtown restaurant. Ksenia didn’t particularly like such events, but refusing to go felt awkward. The summer evening promised to be hot.
“Ksyusha, meet Oleg,” her colleague introduced her to a tall man. “He’s an engineer from the neighboring department.”
Oleg smiled and extended his hand. Twenty-eight years old, pleasant face, confident gaze. Something about him attracted Ksenia immediately.
“Nice to meet you,” Oleg said. “Have you been with the company long?”
“This is my second year,” Ksenia replied. “And you?”
“Five years. I love my job, though sometimes projects drag on late into the night.”
Their conversation flowed easily. Oleg turned out to be an engaging companion, describing complex technical tasks with such enthusiasm that Ksenia listened intently.
“I live with my mom and sister,” Oleg admitted later in the evening. “Since my father passed away, I’ve had to support them. Anya’s still a student, and Mom’s retired.”
Ksenia nodded with understanding. His sense of responsibility and care for his family spoke well of him.
Oleg began courting her persistently yet gently—bringing flowers, inviting her to the movies, often staying at Ksenia’s until morning. Her apartment became his second home.
“I feel so at peace here,” Oleg would say, lying on the couch. “It’s very cozy.”
“Thank you, I tried hard,” Ksenia answered.
A year later, Oleg officially moved in. He brought a few boxes and set them down in the hallway.
“Now we live together,” Oleg said, hugging Ksenia. “How do you like the idea?”
“I like it,” Ksenia replied, leaning on his shoulder.
One evening by the city lake, Oleg proposed. He went down on one knee right on the shore and pulled out a small ring.
“Ksyusha, marry me,” Oleg said solemnly. “I want to spend my whole life with you.”
Ksenia nodded, unable to say a word. Happiness overwhelmed her.
The wedding was modest: the registry office and a small banquet with their closest ones. The newlyweds brimmed with ambition and plans. Ksenia moved to a larger company with a higher position. Oleg got a promotion at his firm.
“I want children,” Ksenia confessed one evening. “But in a one-room flat it’ll be cramped.”
Oleg thought for a moment.
“Let’s take out a mortgage on a three-room apartment,” he suggested. “And we’ll rent out your flat. The money will go toward paying off the loan.”
Ksenia nodded slowly. Logical and reasonable.
Within a month, the new three-room apartment in a good neighborhood became their home. Ksenia delighted in arranging the spacious rooms and choosing furniture for the future nursery. The one-room flat indeed brought in steady rental income.
Galina Petrovna showed up one Saturday morning with a bag of fresh pies.
“You’re such clever ones!” the mother-in-law exclaimed, admiring the spacious living room. “What a renovation, what beautiful furniture.”
Ksenia smiled and put on the kettle. Her mother-in-law’s visits always meant long tea-drinking sessions and conversations.
“Just look at you, already owning two homes,” Galina Petrovna continued, sitting down at the table. “Not every family can afford that.”
“We rent out the one-room flat,” Ksenia explained, pouring tea. “It gives us a steady income that goes straight to the mortgage. Everything’s thought out and works well.”
Galina Petrovna nodded thoughtfully and began asking about the rent amount. Ksenia answered readily, proud of their financial literacy.
A week later, the mother-in-law appeared again—this time with a jar of homemade jam and advice on caring for houseplants.
“My Sveta dreams of her own place,” Galina sighed, stirring her tea. “It’s uncomfortable for her living with me. She needs personal space for her personal life.”
Ksenia nodded sympathetically. Indeed, at twenty-five one longs for independence.
“I understand,” Ksenia said softly. “For a young woman, it’s important to have her own space.”
Galina Petrovna looked at her daughter-in-law intently, as if expecting her to continue the thought. But Ksenia quietly sipped her tea, offering no concrete solutions.
The visits became more frequent. Sometimes pies, sometimes neighborhood gossip—but the conversations always circled back to Sveta’s housing problem.
“Can you imagine? The neighbor’s daughter already bought her own flat,” the mother-in-law would say, slicing a pie she’d brought. “And my Sveta keeps waiting and waiting.”
Ksenia began to sense tension in Galina Petrovna’s voice. The hints grew sharper, her glances more insistent.
“Sveta is such a good girl,” the mother-in-law continued. “Hardworking, neat. She’d be a wonderful mistress of any home.”
Two weeks of such visits became true psychological pressure. Ksenia started to feel anxious whenever the doorbell rang. Galina Petrovna seemed to know exactly when Oleg wasn’t home and came precisely at those times.
One Thursday, she showed up with a pot of soup and a determined look. Ksenia led her to the kitchen, already anticipating an unpleasant conversation.
“Ksyusha, it’s time we had a serious talk,” Galina began, not touching her tea.
Ksenia froze with her cup in hand. Her mother-in-law’s tone had changed completely.
“When are you going to transfer the apartment to my daughter?” Galina asked sharply, staring at her daughter-in-law. “How much longer must we wait?”
Ksenia set her cup down on the table with trembling hands. The audacity of the demand stunned her. Galina Petrovna sat across from her, face set, clearly expecting an immediate answer.
“Galina Petrovna, are you serious?” Ksenia said slowly, struggling to stay calm. “Transfer my apartment to Sveta?…”
Continued in the comments