Marina nudged the dirty plates into the dishwasher and started the quick wash cycle. The Friday night dinner had been a hit; Igor eagerly devoured his signature mushroom pie.
Even Nastja, known for constantly grimacing at Marina’s cooking, ate two slices.
“I’m going to shower,” called Igor from the hallway. “We’re playing soccer with the guys tomorrow, so I need to rest.”
“Go ahead,” Marina gestured as she began wiping the countertop.
Nastja sat in the living room, engrossed in her phone. She had arrived the previous evening — as always, unannounced, burdened with several bags and a sour expression.
“Just visiting for the weekend,” she claimed.
“Want some tea?” Marina asked, stretching her head through the doorway.
“No,” Nastja snapped without even looking up from the screen.
Marina shrugged and returned to the kitchen, accustomed to such cold treatment. Three years of marriage had taught her not to react to her sister-in-law’s barbed remarks. Igor often reassured her: “Nastjucha’s a bit prickly, but she’ll come around. Don’t take it personally.”
The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Marina turned on the kettle and opened the upper cabinet to retrieve her favorite mug. It was then she heard Nastja’s voice from the living room:
“Mom, how are things there? Yeah, I’m at their place… No, she’s cooking that crappy food again… Listen, I talked to a lawyer.”
Frozen, Marina held the mug mid-air. Although Nastja whispered softly, in the quiet apartment her words reached clearly across the kitchen.
“Yes, we can go to court… Since grandma left the apartment to Igor, not both of you…”
No, the foolish girl doesn’t even know who can be removed legally… Igor will sign anything if they ask properly…
The mug slipped from Marina’s grasp, smashing loudly on the floor.
“What’s happening?” Nastja’s voice instantly grew louder.
“I dropped the mug,” Marina stammered, feeling a cold shiver run through her.
The apartment — a three-room flat in the center — had been home to Marina and Igor for three years. It was a gift from his grandmother.
“For our young ones,” the old lady had said back then.
And now this snake wanted to throw her out?
“As usual,” Nastja appeared in the kitchen. “Everything falls apart when it’s your hands.”
“Sorry, I got distracted,” Marina said, bending to gather the broken pieces, relieved Nastja hadn’t noticed her face.
“What are you poking around for? Grab the dustpan and broom.”
Obediently, Marina picked them up, her hands trembling.
“Why are you shaking?” Nastja squinted her eyes. “You dropped it, it’s no big deal.”
“Just… startled,” Marina lied.
“Uh huh. Our little nervous one,” Nastja chuckled and went back to the living room.
Only one thought occupied Marina’s mind: “They want to kick me out. From my own home. That’s why Nastja came all of a sudden…”
Igor emerged from the bathroom, whistling a tune.
“Oh, you dropped the mug?” he smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll buy ten more.”
“Yeah,” Marina tried to return a smile.
He kissed her head and went into the bedroom.
That night, Marina didn’t sleep a wink. Igor was peacefully asleep beside her, while she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.
Should I tell my husband? But he adores his sister and always defends her.
Should I complain to my mother-in-law? But she is allied with Nastja! Always chilly towards her daughter-in-law, even if she tries to hide it.
“I have to do something myself,” Marina decided early the next morning. But what?
Marina was the first to wake up; she quietly crept into the kitchen. Her hands trembled so badly the spoon missed the coffee cup twice.
“Calm down,” she whispered to herself. “Think.”
Her gaze fell on the lawyer’s business card that had been stuck to the fridge since last month. Sergej Valentinovics had helped their neighbor with splitting real estate.
She grabbed the phone.
“Good day! Is this Sergej Valentinovics? This is Marina Kotova, Olga Petrovna’s neighbor.”
Speaking softly, nearly whispering, she kept watching the door.
“I need urgent advice. Today, if possible? At one o’clock? Great!”
Igor appeared in the kitchen, rubbing the pillow marks off his face.
“Good morning,” he stretched and looked for a kiss. “Why are you up so early?”
“Just… rested well,” Marina averted her eyes. “Igor, I’m visiting a friend today, okay? Haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Who?”
“Lenka,” she quickly answered without much thought.
“Ah, okay,” he yawned. “I’m going to the movies with Nastja. She asked yesterday.”
“Of course she did,” Marina thought but said nothing.
The air in the lawyer’s office smelled of coffee and paper. Sergej Valentinovics, a bald man with glasses, listened intently.
“So, your husband’s grandmother’s apartment… Are you both registered there?”
“Yes, right after the wedding.”
“And whose name is the apartment registered under?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean in the ownership documents—gift? Inheritance?”
Marina blinked, embarrassed.
“I don’t know… Igor handled everything.”
The lawyer sighed.
“Okay, Marina. First, you must find out who the legal owner is. If it’s just your husband, you have a problem. If both of you, the sister can’t do anything.”
“How do I find out?”
“Request an extract at the public service center or online today.”
Back home, Marina returned with a clear plan. She noticed Nastja’s shoes in the hallway.
“Ah, you’re back!” Nastja greeted from the kitchen. “Where have you been? We missed you.”
“At a friend’s,” Marina tried to sound calm.
“Igor and I watched a movie,” Nastja grinned, leaning against the wall. “My little bro will never grow up — he chose those silly action films again.”
Marina passed by and nodded. She locked herself in the bedroom and grabbed her phone. Quickly, she found the government site and ordered the land registry extract. After paying, all that was left was to wait.
That evening, after Igor had fallen asleep and Nastja locked herself in the guest room, Marina checked her emails. The extract had arrived. Her fingers trembling, she opened the file. “Owner: Igor Alekseevich Sokolov.”
Marina caught her breath. Nastja had been right legally; the apartment only belonged to Igor. Marina was simply registered there.
Worry turned to anger. “We’ll see about that!”
The next morning, while everyone was still asleep, Marina called the lawyer again.
“Sergej Valentinovics, I have a case…”
“Listen carefully,” the lawyer interrupted. “You have been registered there for over three years?”
“Nearly three.”
“Perfect. That means you have usage rights. Plus, anything purchased during the marriage—from furniture to appliances—is shared property. And if you can prove you contributed to renovations…”
“We did renovate!” Marina recalled the carefully kept receipts.
“Then you have a good chance. Gather all documents. Most importantly, don’t sign anything your husband or family offers.”
“Thank you!”
“And Marina, tell your husband too…”
Marina sighed. “I’m not confident he would side with me.”
Over the next two days, Marina moved cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. She smiled, cooked, and acted as if everything was fine.
Meanwhile, she collected evidence: all receipts for furniture, appliances, renovations, and her own bank statements showing her payments for materials. She reviewed the marriage contract, which clearly defined jointly acquired assets.
On Monday, Nastja announced she would stay another week.
“I suddenly have some days off,” she smiled sweetly at her brother. “You won’t just kick your own sister out, will you?”
“Stay as long as you want!” Igor laughed.
Marina bit her lip and remained silent.
That evening, she overheard Nastja whispering again on the phone:
“Mom, everything is going according to plan… Yes, I’ll be late… No, this fool suspects nothing… The documents are almost ready… Igor will sign, you’ll see…”
Marina felt a storm inside. “No, darling, that’s not going to happen,” she thought.
The following day, she took a day off and visited a notary, then the public service center. By evening, she had a full set of documents and a firm plan of action.
“Honey, maybe we should invite our parents this weekend?” Igor casually asked over dinner. “It’s been a while since the whole family got together.”
Nastja lifted her head, casting a suspicious glance at her sister-in-law.
“Great idea!” Igor smiled. “Nastjuch, mom will be happy you’re here too.”
“Of course,” Nastja spoke slowly, completely agreeing.
On Saturday, Marina cooked from morning till night—baking, steaming, and prepping with all her energy.
“This is the last family dinner,” she thought bitterly, chopping vegetables for the salad.
By six, the table was heaving with food. Igor’s parents, Alexei Petrovich and Vera Sergeyevna, arrived. The stepmother cast her usual appraising glance at Marina.
“You look nice, Marinka,” she said with feigned kindness.
“Thank you,” Marina replied with a smile. “Please, have a seat.”
Once everyone sat down and began eating, Igor raised his glass:
“To family! May we always be together!”
“To family,” Marina echoed, taking a sip.
Nastja noticed her glance and gave a barely perceptible smile.
“Soon, your smile will fade,” Marina thought.
“By the way,” she spoke up loudly, “there is something I wanted to discuss.”
Everyone turned to them.
“Igor, I accidentally overheard Nastja’s conversation with your mother a few days ago.”
The room went silent. Nastja paled.
“What are you talking about?” Igor furrowed his brows.
“That your sister and mom are planning to convince you to register the apartment only in your name and evict me. They want to throw me out on the street.”
“What nonsense is this?” Vera Sergeyevna was outraged. “Igor, your wife’s lost her mind!”
“Marinka, what are you doing?” Igor looked bewildered between his wife, sister, and mother.
“I heard everything,” Marina stated firmly. “Literally. Nastja said, ‘this fool doesn’t even know who can be removed,’ and that Igor ‘will sign anything if you ask him right.’”
Nastja jumped up:
“You were eavesdropping on my conversations?!”
“I overheard while cleaning the kitchen,” Marina answered. “But that’s not the point. The bottom line is, they want to evict me from my home.”
“Your home?” the stepmother interjected. “The apartment belongs to Igor! Grandma gifted it to him!”
“Marinka, this is absurd,” Igor grabbed his wife’s hand. “No one wants to kick you out.”
Nastja and Vera Sergeyevna exchanged glances.
“Here’s the folder,” Marina took out the prepared documents. “Everything you need to know is in here.”
Igor opened the folder and began reviewing the papers.
“What’s this?” he looked puzzled at the documents.
“Receipts for all furniture, appliances, and renovations in our apartment,” Marina pointed to the first bundle. “Here are my bank statements — I paid half the expenses. And this,” she took out a document from a separate file, “is the lawyer’s opinion on my rights to the apartment.”
Nastja suddenly turned pale.
“You went to a lawyer?” she whispered.
“Of course. As soon as I heard about your plans,” Marina stood up. “I won’t let you evict me from the house I considered mine for three years, where I invested money and energy.”
Igor looked up from the documents:
“Wait… Nastja, mom, is this true? Did you really plan this?”
Vera Sergeyevna laughed nervously:
“Igor, it’s nonsense! We were just talking…”
“Just what were you talking about?” Marina interrupted. “Perhaps how to cheat your son?”
“Don’t you dare speak to my mother like that!” Nastja shouted.
“And you don’t dare plan to kick me out of my own home!” Marina raised her voice.
“Quiet!” Igor slammed his fist on the table. “Nastja, is this true?”
Nastja pressed her lips together.
“We just wanted to protect your interests. In case…”
“In case what?” Igor flushed with anger. “I’ve been married to Marina for three years! We renovated together, bought the furniture!”
“Son, but the apartment belongs to grandma,” Vera Sergeyevna interjected. “She gave it to you, not you two.”
“So what?!” Igor stood up. “Does that give you the right to decide on my property behind my back?”
Alexei Petrovich, who had been silent until then, shook his head:
“Vera, Nastja, what are you doing? Our son is right. That’s not proper.”
“Dad, you don’t understand!” Nastja raised her hands. “If they divorce, the wife will demand half the apartment!”
“So you prepared the ground for our divorce?” Igor quietly asked his sister.
Nastja bit her tongue. Silence filled the room.
“You know what,” Marina put the documents back in the folder. “I’ve taken care of everything already. I filed an application to define my share in this apartment as joint property. Considering all investments, it’s at least 30%. If you want to fight, go ahead — but I won’t give up what’s mine.”
“Marinka…” Igor rubbed his temple. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
“Would you have believed me?” she smiled sadly. “You always say Nastja would never deceive you.”
Igor looked at his sister and mother with new eyes.
“Please leave,” he said quietly. “Both of you. Now.”
“Igor!” Vera Sergeyevna cried.
“Go!” he repeated louder. “I need to talk to my wife.”
Nastja grabbed her bags and rushed out. Vera Sergeyevna slowly stood, cast an angry glance at her daughter-in-law, and left.
Alexei Petrovich lingered in the doorway:
“I’m sorry, son. I didn’t know what was planned.”
After everyone left, Igor sat opposite Marina.
“Forgive me… I didn’t think they would do this.”
“And I never imagined I’d have to defend myself from your family,” she responded quietly.
One month later, everything was officially settled. Marina became a co-owner of the apartment — her share was 40%. Igor insisted it be more than the lawyer recommended.
Nastja stopped visiting, seldom calling her brother and never inquiring about Marina. Vera Sergeyevna treated her with cold politeness during encounters. Family dinners became tense affairs.
One evening, Igor embraced Marina:
“You know, I’m glad you’re stronger and smarter than all of them. And that you didn’t let yourself be deceived.”
“I just realized no one would fight for me but myself,” she smiled. “Not even you.”
“That won’t happen anymore,” he kissed her forehead. “I promise.”
Marina nodded. She no longer feared losing her home. And she knew for sure: no one could decide her fate behind her back — neither the stepmother, nor the sister-in-law, not even her husband. From now on, only she holds that power.