That evening, Polina was climbing the stairs to her apartment, a lightness in her heart. The renovation was finally complete. After three months of endless trips to stores, constant disagreements with workers, and countless hours spent planning and organizing, the work was done. Now, in the apartment that had once belonged to her grandmother, there was a sense of warmth and comfort in every corner.
“We can finally live here,” Polina whispered to herself as her hand lightly grazed the freshly painted walls, the scent of new paint still lingering in the air.
The apartment had been completely transformed. The old, worn-out wallpaper had been replaced with soft, light-colored walls. The squeaky parquet floors were gone, replaced with sleek, modern laminate. In the kitchen, there was a brand-new set of cabinets, the warm brown of milk chocolate—a design Polina had always dreamed of.
She made her way into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. Today, she’d purposely come home early from work to enjoy a quiet evening alone, savoring the fruits of her hard work. Nikolay, her husband, was staying late at the office, giving her some much-needed space to contemplate where to place the finishing touches.
Polina opened a cupboard and took out a beautifully patterned cup—a housewarming gift from a friend. As the kettle began to boil, the doorbell rang.
“Who is it?” she asked, stepping towards the door.
“Hello, I’m your neighbor, Marina,” came a voice from the other side. “I really need to talk to you.”
Polina opened the door to find a woman around thirty-five standing at the threshold, her face tired and anxious. She fidgeted nervously with the strap of her bag.
“Sorry to bother you,” Marina began, “but this is important. I know your mother-in-law, Oksana Ivanovna, and her son.”
Polina’s body stiffened. Her relationship with Oksana Ivanovna had always been strained. Since the wedding, the older woman had constantly tried to interfere in Polina’s life, often overstepping boundaries.
“Please, come in,” Polina said, opening the door wider.
“No, it’s better if we talk here,” Marina said, shaking her head. “Listen carefully. I live just one floor below you. A few years ago, I also got to know your mother-in-law when I still lived in my apartment downtown.”
Polina leaned against the doorframe, listening closely.
“Oksana Ivanovna seemed so sweet and caring at first,” Marina continued, her voice trembling. “She would visit me often, bring pies, and ask about my life. Then, she introduced me to her son.”
“To Nikolay?” Polina asked, her heart suddenly racing.
“Yes,” Marina nodded. “We started dating. It felt like a fairy tale—flowers, dinners, sweet words. Then… then they suggested I invest in a joint business with them. They persuaded me to use my apartment as collateral.”
Polina felt her knees weaken as she heard the words. She remembered Oksana Ivanovna’s recent suggestion that they merge their properties with Nikolay’s to make it easier for everyone.
“I lost everything,” Marina’s voice was hollow. “They pulled some scam with the paperwork. By the time I figured it out, it was too late. The apartment was gone, and I was left out in the cold.”
“But why didn’t you go to the police?” Polina asked, her voice shaking.
“I did,” Marina said bitterly. “But everything was legally in order. I signed everything myself, even though I didn’t fully understand it. They’re very persuasive—especially Oksana Ivanovna. She’s so sweet and convincing. And Nikolay… he knows how to play the perfect man.”
Polina felt a wave of nausea. She recalled how she’d met Nikolay—at a café where Oksana Ivanovna had invited her for coffee. It had seemed like fate when her son happened to be there, and their relationship blossomed quickly.
“Why are you telling me all this now?” Polina asked, though she already knew the answer.
“Because yesterday, I saw Oksana Ivanovna talking to a realtor by the building’s entrance,” Marina said. “I recognized him—he’s the same one who helped with my apartment.”
Polina’s phone buzzed in her pocket. A message from Oksana Ivanovna appeared on the screen: “Dear, I’ll be over tomorrow with some documents. We need to discuss something important about your apartment with Kolya.”
Polina’s hands trembled as she recalled the strange occurrences of recent weeks—how Nikolay had been staying later at work, how Oksana Ivanovna had been visiting more often, how her husband had become oddly interested in the apartment’s paperwork.
“Thank you,” Polina whispered to Marina, her mind racing. “I need some time to think. Let’s exchange numbers.”
After exchanging contact details, Marina gave her a sympathetic nod and left. Polina closed the door, leaning against it as the recent conversations with Oksana Ivanovna flooded back.
“Dear, you and Kolya should really think about the future,” Oksana Ivanovna had said not long ago, setting down a plate of pies. “Why keep that old apartment? Sell it and buy a big house for the whole family. We could all live together, raise grandchildren…”
At the time, Polina had dismissed the suggestion, but now every word from her mother-in-law felt ominous.
The doorbell rang again, breaking the silence. It was Oksana Ivanovna, holding a thick folder of documents.
“Polinushka, how nice to see you!” her mother-in-law exclaimed, stepping into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. “I brought some papers; we need to talk.”
Polina felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
“Oksana Ivanovna, maybe we can discuss this later,” Polina tried to decline. “I’m busy right now.”
“Nonsense! It’ll only take a minute,” Oksana Ivanovna insisted, already spreading the documents out on the kitchen table. “Look, Kolya and I have come up with a plan. We’ll sell your apartment, combine our savings, and buy a lovely house outside the city. There’ll be enough space for everyone.”
“I’m not signing anything,” Polina said firmly.
For a moment, Oksana Ivanovna’s smile faltered but quickly returned.
“Don’t be silly, dear. It’s all for your own good. Kolya’s already agreed.”
That night, the conversation with Nikolay took a tense turn.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” Nikolay paced the room, visibly irritated. “Mom is trying to help, organizing everything, and you’re making it difficult. Think about it—a big house for all of us. Is that so bad?”
“What about my opinion? Doesn’t it matter?” Polina asked, trying to stay calm. “This apartment was my grandmother’s. I’m not selling it.”
“You’re too attached to the past!” Nikolay snapped. “You need to think about the future.”
From that point on, the pressure only increased. Oksana Ivanovna began visiting almost daily, each time with new reasons—real estate offers, convenient contacts, or complaints about how difficult it was for Nikolay to commute from their current location.
Polina held her ground, but every day became harder. Nikolay was often distant, spending more time at his mother’s house, coming home cold and irritated.
One evening, Polina arrived home earlier than usual and overheard Oksana Ivanovna speaking on the phone near the building’s entrance.
“Yes, there’s a small delay with the documents,” Oksana Ivanovna said. “Polina will come around, but it’s temporary. Kolya knows what to do. Everything will be ready next week.”
Polina’s heart raced. She waited until her mother-in-law left before quickly heading upstairs. An hour later, Nikolay arrived, carrying a folder full of papers.
“Let’s settle everything today,” he said, spreading the documents on the table. “Everything’s prepared. Just sign, and we can start a new life.”
Polina looked at her husband and no longer recognized him. The man she had married, who had once been kind and attentive, was gone. In his place was a stranger with cold, impatient eyes.
“I’m not signing anything,” she said firmly. “I’m done. I want you out. Here’s your stuff, and leave the keys.”
The next day, Polina went to work early, her mind racing. Around three o’clock, she received a call from Marina.
“Polina, they’re trying to get into your apartment!” Marina’s voice was frantic.
“What?! I kicked Nikolay out yesterday, and I have the keys!” Polina replied, her pulse quickening.
“Come quickly. Oksana Ivanovna and Nikolay—they have copies of the keys. I’ve already called the police!”
Polina rushed out of the office, grabbing her bag. She remembered the valuable antiques and paintings in the apartment.
“I’ll be right there! Please make sure they don’t take anything!”
When she arrived, the police were already there. Marina met her at the door.
“They managed to open the door, but I stopped them,” Marina said. “I started shouting, threatening to call the police. Oksana Ivanovna tried to explain it was a family matter, but I didn’t let them in.”
Nikolay stood against the wall, pale and bewildered. The officer was holding a set of keys.
“Ma’am, do you confirm these are duplicates made without your knowledge?” the officer asked.
Polina nodded, tears welling in her eyes.
“I’m filing a report. For attempted illegal entry and fraud,” Polina said, her voice trembling but steady.
“What’s this nonsense?!” Nikolay shouted. “I’m your husband! What fraud?”
“Ex-husband,” Polina corrected him. “From this moment on—ex-husband.”
The following weeks were a blur of legal proceedings and emotional upheaval. Polina filed for divorce, and with Marina’s help, gathered evidence of the scam. It turned out there were other victims of Oksana Ivanovna and Nikolay’s schemes.
“You know,” Marina said one evening while making tea, “when I lost my apartment, I thought I’d never recover. But now, I see it was a lesson. It taught me to stop trusting blindly, to stop relying solely on feelings. It was hard, but necessary. And now, I’m glad I could help save you.”
Polina nodded, grateful for Marina’s support. After everything, she had begun to feel a sense of peace again. Each day brought new realizations—she could live without constant control, without always measuring up to others’ expectations. She could meet her friends without guilt.
The divorce was quick. Nikolay didn’t drag it out, fearing an investigation into his past actions. Oksana Ivanovna caused a scene in court, but the bailiffs quickly dealt with her.
Polina kept the apartment. It was hers now—completely hers. She found a new sense of confidence, a renewed sense of self.
“You’ve changed,” Marina said one day, noticing the new light in Polina’s eyes, the way she walked with purpose. “You’re a different person now.”
“I finally feel at home,” Polina smiled, looking around her apartment. “Everything here is mine—every piece, every corner. And no one will ever take that from me again.”
Life slowly settled into a new rhythm. Polina received a promotion at work, took up yoga, and even adopted a cat. The furry little friend greeted her after work and loved her for a bowl of milk.
Every evening, as Polina returned home, she silently thanked fate for that chance meeting with Marina. One conversation had changed everything—saving her from a terrible mistake. And now, whenever she met new men, she quietly told them that she lived in a rented apartment, keeping her career achievements to herself.