Marina was reviewing her students’ notebooks when the phone rang in the kitchen. It was six o’clock on a Saturday evening—not exactly an ideal time for a call. A worried voice on the other end belonged to Anya, her neighbor from the hallway.
“Marina, are you home now?”
“What happened, Anya?” Marina replied cautiously.
“I saw Igor today near the real estate agency. He was speaking to a woman, then I overheard him mention your apartment.”
Marina froze. She and Igor had split three weeks earlier after twenty-four years of marriage. He had moved to his mother’s house but had threatened to come back once she had cooled off.
“What exactly did he say?” Marina tried to keep calm.
“He said he wanted to sell the apartment. Claimed it belonged only to him, and that you and your daughter would soon have to move.”
Marina hung up, her hand trembling from shock. The apartment belonged solely to him? That couldn’t be true!
The phone rang again.
“Hi Mom, it’s me, Katya,” her daughter’s tired voice came through. “Did Dad call you?”
“No. Why?”
“He messaged me saying he found cheaper housing in the Southern district. He wants me to convince you, saying a three-room place isn’t necessary now.”
Marina felt her world turn upside down.
“Katya, we are not moving anywhere. Is he trying to sell the apartment behind our backs?”
“Seriously?! Has he lost his mind?”
“I think so too. We bought the apartment together!”
“But we have joint ownership papers, don’t we?”
Marina hesitated.
“No, Katya. It’s only in his name. Back then, he said, ‘Why pay extra fees? We’re family.’ And foolishly, I believed him.”
“You gotta be kidding!”
“Just anger taking over! Mom, I’m coming home.”
“No, you have exams. Study. I’ll handle this myself.”
Katya scoffed.
“You always say that! Then Dad does whatever he wants.”
“Not this time,” Marina said, suddenly firm.
She immediately dialed Igor. The phone rang for a long while but he refused to answer. Then she sent a message: “I know about your plans to sell the apartment. We either discuss this now or settle it in court.” There was no reply.
The next day, Igor appeared at the apartment. Unshaven and wearing a crumpled shirt, but with the same arrogant attitude.
“Why are you stirring things up?” he entered brusquely.
“Is it true you want to sell the apartment?”
Igor grimaced.
“So what? My apartment, my rules.”
“Your apartment? We bought it together! I’ve invested my money all along!”
“Where’s the proof?” he shrugged. “The documents are in my name alone. Bought it before we married.”
“That’s a lie! We got married and three years later took out a mortgage!”
“Prove it. Any papers? No? Then get out.”
“I won’t leave!” Marina snapped, choking on anger. “Half of this apartment belongs to me!”
“Oh, how scary,” he laughed. “Look at yourself. A schoolteacher with a pitiful salary. Who needs you? Meanwhile, I’m trying to help—I’ll find a place.”
“Get out!” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“What?!”
“Leave! This is my home! I’m staying here!”
Igor made a derisive gesture at his temple.
“I’ll bring a realtor next week. Start packing.”
After he left, Marina collapsed on the hallway floor and wept. Everything — twenty-four years of marriage, twenty-one years in this home… And now? Renting a room on her meager salary?
The phone rang again. Wiping tears, Marina answered.
“Marina, it’s Lena. I heard what’s happening. Wait at my place in an hour. My brother is a lawyer and can help.”
“Lena, I don’t have money…”
“Nobody expects you to pay now. We’ll figure it out. But if you don’t come, I’ll come get you myself.”
“Alright,” Marina conceded. “I’ll be there.”
In Sergei’s lawyer office, Lena’s brother, Marina nervously wrung a handkerchief. The room seemed too small for all her anxieties.
“So the apartment is solely in your husband’s name?” Sergei drummed his fingers on the desk. “Did you contribute financially?”
“Of course! I paid half the mortgage all these years!”
“Do you have proof?”
“What kind? We were a family… we were.”
“Receipts, bank statements, contracts?”
“I’m not sure… Maybe some receipts or documents are saved somewhere?”
“Check at home, perhaps in the attic boxes.”
“I’ll search everywhere!”
“Good. Also, as long as you’re married, he cannot sell the apartment without your consent. We’ll file a counterclaim for property division.”
Back home, Marina turned the place upside down. In an old box, she discovered yellowed documents—mortgage payment schedules stamped by the bank, her signature on several forms.
That evening, Katya called.
“Mom, news. Dad actually filed suit. Grandma told me.”
“I know,” Marina whispered. “He demands I vacate the apartment.”
“What a jerk! I’m dropping my exams, coming home!”
“No, Katya, you must study. I have a lawyer. We have a chance.”
The next day, a court summons arrived. Igor claimed sole ownership of the apartment.
When Marina called Sergei, she was surprised by his calmness.
“It’s good he sued first. Now we have time to prepare.”
Three weeks flew by like one day. Marina hardly slept, hunting for documents and verifying details. She taught classes mechanically, sneaking out during breaks to visit the bank or consult her lawyer.
One evening, Igor showed up.
“Well, decided to move out peacefully?”
“No. I’ll prove in court the apartment is ours together.”
Igor laughed.
“You? Prove it? You can’t even string two words.”
“I have documents.”
“What documents? You snooped through my things?”
“No, our shared things.”
A flicker of fear crossed Igor’s eyes briefly but he quickly regained composure.
“Whatever. I have the title deed. And a top-notch lawyer.”
“I have a lawyer, too,” Marina replied calmly.
“Who?” Igor sneered.
“Sergei Vasilyevich Klimov.”
Igor choked on his gulp.
“Klimov? Seriously?”
“Absolutely.”
“Where did a poor schoolteacher find money for a lawyer like that?”
“That’s none of your business,” she snapped.
After Igor left, Lena called.
“How are you?”
“Okay. I think I scared him a little.”
“Everyone knows Sergei in town. Of course, you did.”
“Thank you, Lena. Without you, I would have been lost.”
“You’re much stronger than you think. By the way, I’ll testify in court, confirming you always paid for the apartment.”
“You remember that?”
“Of course! You complained a hundred times about spending your salary on the mortgage.”
That evening, Katya called.
“Mom, I finished early. I’m coming tomorrow.”
“Katya…”
“Don’t argue! I’m coming. Period. I want to be by your side at the trial.”
Marina smiled genuinely for the first time in ages.
The courtroom was small and stuffy. Marina sat upright, clutching a folder of documents. Sergei sat beside her, focused and confident. Behind were Lena and Katya, both visibly tense.
Igor entered with a young, neatly dressed counsel whispering in his ear. Both appeared self-assured.
“Don’t mind them,” Sergei whispered. “It’s just a show.”
The judge, a woman in her fifties with a weary face, opened the session.
“Plaintiff, state your claim.”
Igor’s attorney stood, his voice monotone and emotionless.
“My client demands the apartment recognized as his sole property. He purchased it pre-marriage. Here is the ownership documentation.”
The judge reviewed the papers and looked to Marina.
“Defendant, your response?”
Sergei rose.
“Your Honor, we dispute this. The apartment was bought during the marriage. There is a contract, and my client paid mortgage payments regularly.”
Igor’s lawyer scoffed.
“Where is your proof? Words aren’t enough.”
“Here they are,” Sergei said calmly, producing documents—bank statements, payment schedules signed by Marina, plus witness statements.
The judge examined the evidence carefully.
“Call the witnesses.”
Lena stepped forward, trembling slightly.
“I’ve known Marina for over twenty years. She often said she paid for the apartment. Many times we had no money for anything else because all went to the mortgage.”
“Any specifics?” Igor’s lawyer inquired.
“Specifics? I went with her to the bank multiple times. I saw her make payments. Once, I even lent her money when she lacked enough for a mortgage installment.”
Igor whispered angrily to his lawyer.
“Your Honor,” the lawyer interjected, “a friend’s words mean nothing. My client claims the spouse never made payments.”
“Lies!” Katya exploded, jumping up.
“Silence!” the judge struck her gavel. “State your name.”
“Ekaterina Sokolova, daughter. I want to testify as well.”
“Please proceed.”
“Mom always paid. Dad himself said it was hard to manage the mortgage alone, and Mom gave him money.”
Igor turned crimson.
“She’s lying! Katya, how can you?”
“You lie! Dad, you told me, ‘Mom pays half but we live like in a shack.’ Remember?”
The judge banged the gavel again.
“Quiet! We continue.”
Sergei presented more materials: old receipts, bank records, photos showing Marina and Igor inspecting the apartment together.
“Any objections?” the judge queried.
Igor’s lawyer looked flustered.
“Your Honor, the ownership deed is in my client’s name, regardless of payments.”
“If purchased during marriage, property is jointly owned,” Sergei countered.
The judge called a recess. Marina’s legs trembled.
“What do you think?” she whispered to Sergei.
“So far, things favor us.”
After the break, the judge announced:
“A financial audit of mortgage payments will be conducted.”
Igor jumped up.
“What audit?! It’s my apartment! I bought it! She just wants to rob me!”
“Sit down!” the judge ordered sternly.
“No! This is a conspiracy! She rigged it all!”
Another gavel strike.
“One more outburst and you will be removed.”
Igor slumped into a chair, glaring at Marina. She met his eyes without fear for the first time.
The audit lasted three weeks. Marina barely slept; each day felt endless. Through Igor’s lawyer, a “generous” offer arrived—he’d keep the apartment, giving her a sum barely enough to rent a room.
“Don’t agree,” Katya urged firmly. “We will crush him.”
On the final day of the court hearing, rain poured down. Marina arrived dripping wet.
“Feeling ready?” Sergei greeted her in the hallway.
“I’ll manage,” she gave a weak smile. “Just want this over.”
Only the parties and the judge with an impassive face were inside the courtroom.
“Audit results show,” began the judge, “that Marina Sokolova consistently made mortgage payments. Her share amounts to 47%.”
Igor grimaced as if swallowing something bitter; his lawyer visibly grew nervous.
“The court rules,” the judge continued, “to deny the plaintiff’s claim. The apartment is recognized as jointly owned property, with shares divided equally.”
Marina sat stunned, unable to believe her ears.
“Did we win?”
“Yes, congratulations,” Sergei smiled.
Igor stood abruptly.
“This is absurd! I will appeal!”
“That is your right,” the judge responded coldly.
In the corridor, Katya screamed with joy and hugged Marina tightly.
“You are a true hero! Keep it up!”
“We did it together,” Marina whispered, embracing her daughter.
A month later, the property was officially divided: Igor received the car and the dacha, Marina kept the apartment. He was silent now, subdued.
“So, happy now?” he grumbled, signing the papers.
“I only wanted fairness,” Marina answered calmly.
Six months passed. The apartment grew cozy with fresh wallpaper, curtains, and a convenient kitchen table. Katya helped with the renovations. Friends visited, laughter filled the rooms, and tea was shared.
“You look like you’ve blossomed,” Lena observed one day. “You even carry yourself differently.”
“Really?” Marina smiled shyly.
“Seriously. It’s like a heavy burden was lifted from your shoulders.”
Marina reflected on this. Indeed, she no longer feared tomorrow. She no longer waited for someone else to decide her fate. Now, she controlled her own life.
Key Insight: This story illustrates the power of resilience, preparation, and assertiveness in reclaiming one’s rights, even when faced with seemingly overwhelming obstacles.