“Darling, let’s transfer your apartment into my name… two months before the wedding!” the groom asked, while his mother giggled in the fitting room.
Anna was sitting in the kitchen of her one-room apartment — the very apartment she had earned after five years of grinding away at two jobs and endless loans — mechanically stirring her tea. The tea was getting cold, but her thoughts were heating up.
The wedding was in a week. The white dress, the banquet at “Albion” — the cheapest restaurant on the list, but still “fancy” — toasts, gifts, dancing until they dropped. She even laughed at herself: a grown woman, yet inside she still felt like a girl at graduation.
On the table lay a furniture catalog. Anna was thinking it was time to replace the wardrobe — the one that had moved with them from their rented apartment. It looked as if cockroaches and memories of someone else’s life had been living inside it. She sighed. The wardrobe could wait.
Denis came out of the bedroom wearing sweatpants and carrying a laptop. A programmer. Or rather, “a freelancer working remotely.” Always with “projects” that Anna never really understood. Sometimes it seemed to her that he sat at that laptop only to look busy.
“Why are you so serious?” Denis yawned, scratched the back of his head, and flopped down beside her. “We’re happy, aren’t we?”
“We are,” Anna nodded, but her eyes returned to the catalog.
At that moment, the intercom rang. She shuddered. That kind of ringing usually meant utility bills or a neighbor with complaints. But no — standing at the door was Elena Viktorovna, her future mother-in-law. She wore a coat that had clearly been hanging on her for ten years, and her signature little smile: “I’m kind, of course, but I’m looking straight into your soul to check whether you’re lying.”
“Annushka, my beautiful girl!” Elena Viktorovna slipped into the apartment without waiting to be invited. “So much happiness is waiting for you! Your Deniska is pure gold!”
Anna forced a smile. Yes, gold. Though so far that gold looked more like a cheap copper coin from an old newsstand. But how could she say that out loud?
The three of them sat down in the kitchen. The kettle had been acting up for two weeks — instead of boiling evenly, it made suspicious wheezing sounds. Anna put it on and immediately felt that a “serious life conversation” was about to begin.
And she was right.
“I’ve been thinking, children,” Elena Viktorovna began, carefully placing her hands on her knees, as if preparing for confession. “You’re going to be a family now. And family is forever. You need to formalize stability.”
“What do you mean?” Anna frowned.
“Well, you have an apartment, and that’s good,” the mother-in-law smiled, showing teeth that seemed to be testing the strength of Anna’s nerves. “But it would be proper to put it in Deniska’s name. So everything is fair. Family-style.”
Anna’s tea went down the wrong way and almost came out through her nose. She coughed so hard that tears filled her eyes. Denis immediately jumped up and patted her on the back.
“Mom, what are you saying?” he muttered, though not very convincingly.
“What’s wrong with that?” Elena Viktorovna raised her eyebrows. “You’ll be living together. And what if Anna gets offended and throws him out? God forbid, of course, but anything happens in life. If everything is registered in the husband’s name, then there’s order.”
Anna said nothing. Something stirred inside her — either hurt or anger. “Throws him out.” Interesting. So she was apparently a stranger in her own apartment?
“Elena Viktorovna,” Anna’s voice sounded hoarse, “the apartment is mine. I bought it myself.”
“I understand, sweetheart,” her mother-in-law made a face that said, “I understand everything, but you understand nothing.” “But family means shared property. You need to trust each other.”
Denis sat staring into his mug. His fingers nervously drummed on the table. Anna noticed that he was not going to object to his mother.
“Denis,” she turned to him, “what do you think?”
He shrugged.
“Mom is right. I mean, what difference does it make? We’re together anyway.”
Anna froze. Inside her, it was as if a light bulb had burned out: one flicker — and then darkness.
“What difference does it make?” she repeated, and her voice broke. “The difference is that the apartment is mine! Mine, Denis! I worked myself to the bone for it — not you, not your mother!”
“Oh, why react like that?” Elena Viktorovna threw up her hands. “Nobody is taking anything from you. It just needs to be registered properly. So you don’t have to run around with paperwork after the registry office.”
Silence hung over the table, thick as jelly. Anna looked at Denis — and suddenly understood: he was not on her side. He was on Mommy’s side.
That was the exact moment, in that sticky silence, when the crack between them began.
Anna stood up and sharply pushed the catalog and the kettle aside.
“You know what,” she said, no longer choosing her words, “the apartment stays in my name. End of discussion.”
“Why are you shouting?” Denis frowned. “We’re just discussing it normally.”
“Normally?” Anna snorted. “You call this normal? Your mother just suggested I transfer my apartment to you, and you’re sitting there saying nothing!”
“Annushka, no hysterics,” Elena Viktorovna shook her head. “A woman should be gentle. You’re being far too sharp.”
Anna felt a wave rising inside her. Anger, hurt, disappointment.
“Gentle?” She clenched her fists. “Maybe I should also be grateful that you’re trying to deceive me?”
Her mother-in-law pressed her lips together sharply. Denis tried to say something conciliatory, but Anna was no longer listening.
“That’s it. This conversation is over.” She opened the door and looked coldly at Elena Viktorovna. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“Well, well,” the mother-in-law stood up, straightened her coat, and looked Anna up and down over her glasses. “We’ll see how you sing without our support.”
She walked out, slamming the door loudly behind her.
Denis remained standing in the middle of the kitchen. His face was a mixture of confusion and irritation.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered. “Mom is just worried about us.”
Anna stared at him — and for the first time during all of this, she became truly afraid.
Because she suddenly understood clearly: they were not “we.” They were “him and his mother.” And she was separated.
And the wedding in a week now looked like a cruel joke.
Anna woke up in the middle of the night with a strange feeling, as if someone were in the apartment. But no, of course, it was empty. Denis was snoring on the sofa, hugging his laptop like a child hugging a teddy bear. As if the code from his projects could protect him from everything in the world.
She lay staring at the ceiling and felt that something had broken. The wedding was in a week, but inside her there was emptiness. The kind of emptiness that appears when you realize trust does not die loudly, but quietly — like a light bulb in an old stairwell: it flickered once and burned out.
The next day, Anna went to the shopping mall with her friend. She needed to buy shoes for the dress. “Wedding shopping,” as they called it. But everything inside Anna resisted, as if she were trying on not shoes, but shackles.
Her friend went into the fitting room, and Anna stayed in the corridor with coffee from a vending machine. Bitter, plastic-tasting coffee — a symbol of her mood.
And that was when she heard them.
Voices. Very familiar voices.
At first she could hardly believe it, but yes — it was Denis and his mother. They were standing by the display window of a jewelry store. Elena Viktorovna was holding her son by the arm and speaking quietly, but her words cut through the air like a knife.
“The main thing is that she transfers everything before the registration. After that — divorce, and the apartment is yours. There’s nothing else to get from that girl.”
Anna’s heart dropped into her heels. The sound of her own heartbeat seemed louder than the music from the speakers.
“Mom, why so harsh?” Denis muttered. “Maybe it will work out on its own.”
“Nothing ever works out on its own,” his mother snapped. “How many years did I drag you along? Now this is your chance. With an apartment, at least you’ll become a real man.”
Anna stood behind a column, not moving. It felt as though if she breathed, their conspiracy would collapse, they would turn around, and they would see her. But she heard every word.
“And what if she doesn’t agree?” Denis shifted from one foot to the other.
“Then persuade her yourself. You’re the groom, after all. A woman must listen to her husband.”
Those words struck harder than a slap.
Anna turned pale. That was it. The illusion had collapsed. “A cloudless marriage,” “the perfect family,” “the kind mother” — it had all been theater. And behind the curtain there was a cynical calculation and a robbery plan in white gloves.
She took a step back and almost spilled her coffee. She needed to breathe. She needed to pretend nothing had happened.
And that was exactly what she did. She returned to the shoe store, smiled at her friend so tensely that her jaw cramped, and bought some shoes — it no longer mattered which ones. She would not be wearing them anyway.
That evening at home, Anna was completely calm. She was making dinner — chicken cutlets with buckwheat. The smell of garlic and oil hung in the air. Denis sat at the table, picking at a napkin with his fork.
“Listen,” he began, looking somewhere past her. “I was thinking… Maybe we should still put the apartment in my name? You know, so the family will be stronger.”
The frying pan trembled in Anna’s hands. The oil hissed.
“Interesting,” she said in an icy voice. “And this idea wouldn’t happen to be your mother’s, would it?”
Denis looked up sharply — and that was it. That glance gave him away.
“Well… Mom said it would be better that way.”
Anna placed the frying pan on the stove, wiped her hands on a towel, and turned to him.
“Denis,” her voice trembled, but not from fear — from fury. “Do you understand what you’re suggesting? This is my apartment. Mine!”
“Why are you getting so worked up?” Denis raised his hands as if defending himself. “I’m not your enemy. It’s just logical. We’re a family.”
“Family?” Anna smirked. “Family means trust, not deception.”
He hesitated. He tried to smile, but it came out pitiful.
“We’re not deceiving you. It’s just… Mom is worried.”
“Your mother is worried about how to leave me without an apartment.” Anna stepped closer. “Did you hear what she said?”
“What?” Denis blinked.
And then Anna understood: she needed to strike directly.
“‘Transfer it, then divorce her.’ That’s what.”
Denis turned pale. His lips twitched.
“You… overheard?”
“I overheard.” Anna folded her arms across her chest. “And thank God I did.”
Silence. Only the clock on the wall ticked, as if counting down the seconds to an explosion.
“Ann, please understand,” he began. “I just… I didn’t want to. Mom talked me into it.”
“So Mommy is to blame?” Anna laughed. The laugh came out dry, like crumpled paper. “And you have nothing to do with it, right? Poor little boy who does everything Mommy tells him?”
“You misunderstood,” he tried to justify himself.
“I understood everything perfectly.” She sharply opened the wardrobe, pulled out a suitcase, and threw it onto the sofa. “Pack.”
“What?” He stared at her as if she had suggested jumping off the balcony.
“Pack your junk and go back to your mother.” Anna spoke slowly, each word like a nail. “There will be no wedding.”
He jumped up.
“Are you out of your mind? Everything is already prepared!”
“Nothing is prepared.” Anna opened a jewelry box, took out the ring, and placed it on the table. The metal hit the surface with a dull sound. “This is yours. Take it.”
Denis froze, then walked over to the suitcase. He threw his things inside without sorting them: T-shirts, pants, socks.
“You’ll regret this,” he muttered, zipping it up. “No one needs you except me.”
“Better to be alone than with a traitor.” Anna turned toward the window.
The door slammed. The apartment became quiet. The silence pressed down on her.
Anna sank onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. Tears flowed on their own, but she did not wipe them away. They were not tears of weakness. They were anger finally escaping.
And somewhere inside, beneath all that pain, a new feeling was being born.
Freedom.
For an entire week, Anna lived in a strange vacuum. At work, colleagues congratulated her on her “upcoming happiness,” friends called with routine questions like, “So, how’s the dress?” and she waved them off like annoying flies. All those “Congratulations, darling!” sounded so absurd, as if they were talking not about a wedding, but about a funeral.
The apartment was silent. Denis had moved out, and his laptop — which used to constantly hum on the table — was gone. It seemed that the background noise of that “we” had left with him. But in its place came a strange calm.
Anna had just started getting used to the silence when suddenly the doorbell rang. Standing on the threshold were Denis and Elena Viktorovna. Together.
He looked rumpled, with dark circles under his eyes. She was stern, holding a folder in her hands. She looked like a prosecutor before a trial.
“Annushka, let’s talk,” Elena Viktorovna squeezed into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
Anna crossed her arms.
“I understand everything. There will be no wedding.”
“This isn’t about the wedding,” her mother-in-law brushed it off. “We consulted a lawyer. You and Denis have been practically living together, everything between you is shared…”
“Mom!” Denis tugged at her sleeve. “Enough.”
But his mother did not stop.
“You bought the apartment during the relationship, which means the court can recognize it as jointly acquired property. We’ll file a lawsuit.”
Anna smirked.
“I bought it before I met your son. I have all the documents. You should try understanding the law at least once instead of understanding schemes.”
Elena Viktorovna blinked. Anna’s confident tone had clearly thrown her off balance.
“And what about the moral side?” she switched on the “kind mother” act again. “Surely you don’t want Denis to be left with nothing?”
“Let him leave with exactly what he came with,” Anna cut her off coldly. “That is, empty-handed.”
Denis lowered his eyes. He looked pathetic.
“Ann, I… I really didn’t want to. Mom just…”
“Enough,” Anna interrupted. “I’m tired of hearing that your mother makes decisions for you. You’re a grown man, but you behave like a schoolboy with a report card.”
Elena Viktorovna flared up.
“You’re nobody without us! Who needs you with your little apartment?”
Anna slowly took the engagement ring, which had been lying in the jewelry box all this time, and placed it in her mother-in-law’s palm.
“Here. Take it. And take your son and your advice with you. I may be alone. But at least I’m not with traitors.”
Silence hung heavily in the room. Denis looked at her for a long moment — guilt, fear, and something like regret mixed in his eyes. But he never found the words.
Elena Viktorovna spun around sharply and stormed into the hallway.
“You’ll regret this!” she shouted from behind the door.
Anna locked the door, turned toward the empty room, and for the first time in a long time, took a deep breath.
Yes, she would have to start everything over now.
But for the first time in months, she felt not fear, but relief.
And freedom.