The countryside residence rested atop a hill embraced by ancient pines. Yulia paused the car by the gate, lingering for several moments to soak in the serene landscape. Sunlight pierced the pine needles, bathing the yard in gentle light and filling the air with the aroma of resin. This was the very home Yulia had long dreamed of, now becoming a tangible reality.
“Are we there yet?” Anton stretched, trying to ease his stiff back. “Come on, let’s get moving; how long can we sit here?”
Yulia stifled a sigh. Her husband’s mood had been tense for months. Since his job loss two months prior, an unusual strain had crept into their relationship.
“Don’t rush me,” she replied, grabbing the bag with the papers. “Today is the final day for inspection before closing the deal. After that, no turning back.”
Anton silently exited the car and headed toward the house. Though the mortgage was solely in Yulia’s name, he had always supported the idea of purchasing a country house. Her position as a department head in a large company allowed them to manage the loan smoothly.
The realtor Marina awaited near the entrance, nervously tapping her heels along the walkway.
“Hello, Yulia,” Marina greeted, extending her hand. “All documents are inside. We can do a last walkthrough; tomorrow, you just need to come to sign.”
Yulia nodded. The house, valued at ten million rubles, felt like a hefty sum but was undeniably worth it. The two-story structure boasted a terrace overlooking the forest and included a small pond on the grounds.
“Ten million,” Anton murmured while glancing over the house. “How many years do we have to pay it off?”
“Fifteen years,” Yulia answered. “But with my bonuses, I believe we can repay faster.”
Anton emphasized “with your bonuses” in a way that seemed strange.
Yulia remained silent. Her husband had promised to “find work soon” repeatedly, yet his actions had not aligned. Though he helped around the house—cooking occasionally, cleaning, and small repairs—the situation was degrading for a man recently holding a significant role.
The week following the purchase disappeared in joyful preparations. Yulia ordered furniture, designed room layouts, and compared appliances. Anton attended to minor yard chores, clearing walkways and trimming branches.
Suddenly, a phone call from her mother-in-law interrupted her planning.
“Yulenka, darling, we’re so glad for you!” Nina Sergeyevna’s voice was typically loud over the phone. “I want to give you a housewarming present.”
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to…”
“No excuses,” she interrupted. “I transferred 150,000 rubles to your card—use it for furniture to make the house cozy!”
Yulia blinked in surprise. Though modest compared to the house price, the amount was generous and refusing felt awkward.
“Thank you, Nina Sergeyevna. That’s very generous of you.”
“It’s nothing,” the mother-in-law chirped happily before hanging up.
That evening, Yulia shared the call with Anton.
“Mom wants only the best for us,” he said, warmth briefly returning to his voice. “Let’s buy a fancy German kitchen—you’ve always wanted one.”
Yet a worry lingered in Yulia’s mind.
“Are you sure your mother knows the house is registered solely in my name? That was crucial for the bank,” she asked cautiously.
Anton frowned. “What difference does that make? It’s just a gift.”
“I’m clarifying to avoid misunderstandings later,” Yulia replied.
Anton shrugged and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Months went by. Yulia increasingly dedicated herself to work, often staying late and sleeping in the city apartment instead of the country house. An invisible rift widened between them.
The house filled with furniture—Yulia ordered the kitchen, a plush sofa, and a dining table. The mother-in-law’s money was well invested. Yulia even sent photos to report on their progress.
Meanwhile, Anton maintained the property. Yet daily, his temper worsened, criticizing Yulia’s perpetual busyness and perceived coldness.
“Do you even remember we’re married?” he snapped one evening as Yulia arrived late from work. “We barely see each other.”
“And do you recall we need to pay the mortgage?” Yulia shot back. “The ten million won’t pay off itself.”
“What does that have to do with anything? We could live simpler but at least together.”
“Seriously?” Yulia smirked. “That’s from a man who hasn’t worked in a year.”
Following that quarrel, their relationship grew colder. Yulia contemplated divorce more frequently. Something had irreparably broken, and attempts to mend the bond only deepened the divide.
“The mortgage payments consume a quarter of my salary every month—this house is my possession and responsibility.”
One weekday, while Yulia worked from home, a call came from her mother-in-law’s number.
“Yulia, dear, how are you?” Nina Sergeyevna’s voice sounded tense, unlike before.
“All’s well, thanks. What is it?” Yulia answered cautiously.
“Nothing urgent, just checking in. Anton mentions you’re always at work.”
“I hold a responsible position, as you know.”
“Yes, yes…” Nina paused. “Yulia, I need to ask… We built this house together, didn’t we? You won’t forget who helped.”
Yulia froze. The phrase “built together” puzzled her and felt unfamiliar.
“Excuse me, but what do you mean? You contributed money for furniture, and we’re grateful, but…”
“Oh, don’t be so serious!” Nina laughed. “I just said it. Goodbye, dear!”
Yulia hung up unsettled.
A week later, after a business meeting, she returned to the house, surprised to find an expensive car parked nearby. The front door stood unlocked, and voices echoed within.
Stepping inside cautiously, she spotted Anton, Nina Sergeyevna, and an unknown man in a suit sitting around a table spread with documents.
“Yulia! Didn’t expect you so soon,” Anton greeted, standing abruptly.
“Clearly,” Yulia responded coldly. “What’s happening?”
The suited man introduced himself. “Good afternoon, I’m Konstantin Vasilyevich, legal counsel for the Kravtsov family.”
“What lawyer?” Yulia looked between him and her mother-in-law.
Nina’s expression turned triumphant. “We’ve decided the house must be divided. I have a share—I invested 150,000 rubles. The lawyer will confirm.”
A surge of anger and distrust tightened Yulia’s chest.
“150,000 rubles against a ten million ruble house—do you really believe that entitles you to half?” Yulia spoke calmly.
Nina pursed her lips; the lawyer awkwardly shuffled papers.
“Technical assistance in acquiring property may be grounds for shared ownership…” the lawyer began haltingly.
Yulia retrieved her folder of documents and laid out the purchase agreement, mortgage contract, and property registry extract.
“Please review these. The house is solely in my name. The mortgage, payments, everything is mine. Where is the evidence for shared ownership?”
Anton sat silently, avoiding eye contact; his fingers nervously drummed on the table.
The lawyer donned glasses, scrutinizing the papers and jotting notes. The atmosphere thickened with tension.
“I’m not pursuing this for myself,” Nina declared sharply. “It’s for my son! We’re family; can you treat relatives like this?”
“Relatives don’t hold secret meetings,” Yulia responded evenly. “Don’t claim what isn’t yours.”
The lawyer cleared his throat, glancing up.
“Nina Sergeyevna, I must ask—are there any documents proving the 150,000 rubles were intended as a contribution for shared property?”
Yulia showed the bank statement on her phone.
“Here is the transfer from Nina Sergeyevna,” she said, turning the screen to the lawyer. “The payment purpose reads ‘Housewarming gift’—no mention of shared ownership, no contracts, no receipts. Simply a gift from my mother-in-law.”
The lawyer pinched the bridge of his nose.
Suddenly, Nina slammed her palm on the table, protesting loudly. “We lifted this girl out of hardship! All she has is thanks to my son! Anton! Tell her! This is our house!”
Anton finally met Yulia’s gaze.
“Yulia, can we discuss this calmly? No need for lawyers or drama. Mom worries about me…”
Yulia stood upright, locking eyes with her mother-in-law.
“Your son hasn’t worked for a year and a half. I purchased the house with my money, it’s in my name, and I maintain it. The mortgage consumes a quarter of my salary monthly. It’s time to face reality, Nina Sergeyevna.”
Anton threw his hands up. “Here we go again! You reduce everything to finances! Yulia, mom cares about us. We are family and will sort this out…”
“I’ve filed for divorce,” Yulia stated quietly. “The application is at the registry. Vacate the house, please—it’s private property.”
The lawyer hurriedly gathered papers, avoiding looks. Anton was left uncertain in the room’s center.
“Divorce? Why?” he repeated.
“Because you lied—about job hunting, support. Meanwhile, you conspire with your mother to take what’s not yours.”
Nina abruptly stood, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door.
“This will be forgotten—you’ll be alone with the house! Think about if it’s worth it!” she warned over her shoulder.
Yulia met her gaze unflinchingly.
“Better alone than with those who believe they bought me for 150,000.”
Nina snorted and slammed the door behind her. The lawyer followed in silence. Anton remained frozen.
“What now?” Anton asked softly after a long pause.
“Pack your things and move to your mother’s,” Yulia replied. “We have to sign divorce papers next week.”
Anton reached to take her hand.
“I thought we’d try to save our marriage,” he said.
Yulia gently pushed him away. “I didn’t expect my husband to attempt taking the house through his mother. Pack up, Anton. I’ll wait on the veranda.”
She stepped outside where the warmth of the fading summer sun softened the atmosphere. The pines glowed golden in twilight. The silence calmed her, even after the confrontation.
After thirty minutes, the door creaked as Anton exited carrying two large bags.
“I’m done packing,” he murmured. “I’ll leave the keys here.”
Yulia nodded without turning.
“You understand your mother overstepped?” Anton said. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“Then whose was it?” Yulia fixed him with a steady gaze. “Who told your mother the house could be divided? Who complained about me? Who hasn’t worked for a year and a half living off me?”
Anton lowered his eyes.
“We can fix this,” he whispered.
“No,” Yulia declined firmly. “I’ve seen your true face—and your mother’s. Now leave.”
Anton hesitated, then left quietly. A minute later, the car started and drove away.
A week passed. Yulia sat on the veranda, laptop and tea nearby. The evening breeze stirred her hair. The forest loomed tranquil, bathed in fading sunlight.
Outside the fence was silence. No calls from Nina Sergeyevna. No messages from Anton. The divorce concluded swiftly and without fuss. Anton made no claim on property, recognizing the legal futility.
Yulia closed her laptop and stretched, feeling a calm clarity long absent. The mortgage still demanded heavy payments. The job remained stressful. Yet, she was no longer feeling exploited.
Key Insight: The house belonged to her—solely and completely. This newfound freedom outweighed all trials endured.
In the end, this story highlights the complexities arising when family boundaries blur over financial contributions and property rights. Maintaining clear agreements and communication is crucial to prevent such painful conflicts.