“My son is divorcing you, so pack your things, take your daughter, and clear out the room,” the mother-in-law coldly told her daughter-in-law.
Elena Nikolaevna stopped in front of the familiar door, took out her keys, and entered her son’s apartment. In the hallway, she was greeted by a woman’s laughter and the scent of perfume. She walked into the living room and froze. An unfamiliar woman wearing a robe was sitting on the sofa, clearly having only just gotten out of bed.
“Arthur!” she called to her son, trying to maintain her dignity.
He appeared from the kitchen with a mug in his hand. When he saw his mother, he visibly tensed.
“Mom, couldn’t you have warned me first?” he began irritably.
“You have a wife, Irina, and a daughter, Svetlana,” Elena Nikolaevna snapped, ignoring the presence of the stranger. “Or is your memory just as selective as your conscience?”
“That’s exactly what I was planning to discuss with my wife today,” Arthur replied calmly, putting on a show of indifference.
The woman in the robe stood up and deliberately wrapped her arms around him, as though marking her territory.
“Introduce us, darling,” she purred with a poisonous smile. “Although I suppose introductions are unnecessary. I’m Olga.”
“And I am a disappointed mother,” Elena Nikolaevna replied coldly. “I hope you understand that you are intruding upon someone else’s family.”
“Oh, but isn’t family supposed to be about love?” Olga retorted sarcastically. “And all I see here is… habit.”
“There is nothing for me to do here,” Elena Nikolaevna said to her son before turning toward the exit. “But remember, Arthur: you will reap what you sow.”
On her way home, she remembered how she and her husband, Nikolai, had moved into that very apartment twenty-five years earlier. She had sold her grandmother’s country house, while he had contributed his savings. They had bought the apartment together, dreaming of a happy family.
But life had turned out differently.
There had been constant arguments, mutual accusations, and emotional coldness. They had never dared to separate. Habit and the fear of losing the apartment held them together more tightly than any feelings ever could. Little Arthur had grown up surrounded by conflict and had come to believe that it was normal.
“Raising children among the ruins of a marriage is a terrible mistake,” she thought bitterly. “Later, they build the same ruins themselves, only they make them look prettier.”
When their son turned seven, Nikolai and several friends established a small cooperative. Business began to flourish, and fifteen years later, their company had grown into a major construction holding company with Nikolai at its head.
Money arrived, but happiness did not. It merely gave them new reasons to quarrel.
In the spacious four-room apartment, Elena Nikolaevna was greeted by her daughter-in-law, Irina, who was holding little Sveta in her arms. The girl happily reached out toward her grandmother, and Elena Nikolaevna’s heart softened for a moment.
“How is Arthur?” Irina asked as she gently rocked the child. “You look upset.”
Elena Nikolaevna looked at her gloomily. Irina was a good wife and mother, but her son had clearly decided to destroy his family. Elena Nikolaevna knew perfectly well who the woman in the robe was. She was Olga, an employee at the bank where Arthur worked.
“My dear Ira,” she began cautiously, “life sometimes teaches us painful lessons. You will see for yourself when he comes home.”
“Has something happened?” Irina asked anxiously.
“What has happened is what happens to men when they imagine that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence,” Elena Nikolaevna remarked sarcastically. “Although it often turns out to be nothing more than artificial turf.”
Meanwhile, Arthur was embracing Olga on the same sofa, enjoying the illusion of freedom.
“Everything is going according to plan,” he said smugly. “Soon I’ll be free, and then we’ll finally start living properly.”
“Finally,” Olga said, playfully running a finger across his chest. “I was beginning to think you were one of those men who spend their entire lives preparing to leave their wives but still die as married men.”
“That isn’t funny,” Arthur said with a grimace. “I simply need to do everything properly. I have a reputation.”
“What reputation?” Olga laughed. “The secret lover of a bank employee? Very respectable.”
Arthur thought about how his father had once demanded that he become a lawyer because it would be “useful for the company.” Arthur had chosen programming instead and had never regretted it.
His conflict with his father had reached its peak when Arthur announced that he wanted to marry Irina.
“I don’t have time for this. I have a meeting,” Nikolai had said without even looking up from his papers.
His mother had taken her husband’s side, as always. Arthur and Irina registered their marriage in secret without even informing his parents.
“They can find out after it has already happened,” he had decided at the time.
After Svetlana was born, Elena Nikolaevna decided to repair their relationship and invited her daughter-in-law and granddaughter to live with her. Irina had lived with her mother-in-law ever since, while Arthur increasingly spent his nights in his bachelor apartment, claiming that he had too much work.
That was why his mother had decided to visit him.
Arthur arrived at his mother’s home that evening, still floating on air after his meeting with Olga. Elena Nikolaevna was not there. Irina met him with a grim expression and eyes that were red from crying.
“Your father died today,” she said without any introduction, her voice trembling. “I called you several times, but you didn’t answer.”
“What?” Arthur sank into a chair, and all his smug confidence instantly disappeared from his face.
“He had a heart attack. Right in the office,” Irina said, looking at him painfully. “And do you know what the worst part is? You never found the courage to reconcile with him. Now you never will.”
“I… I didn’t know,” Arthur muttered.
Deep down, however, he was already calculating what would happen to his father’s company. The inheritance could change everything.
“Of course, this is terrible,” he said, pretending to grieve. “Dad was… a difficult man, but he accomplished a great deal.”
Irina looked at him with contempt. His insincerity would have been obvious even to a child, let alone to a woman who had lived with him for several years.
“You’re thinking about the money, aren’t you?” she asked quietly. “At a time like this, you’re thinking about the inheritance?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur snapped. “We simply need to be practical. Life goes on.”
“Yes, life goes on,” Irina agreed with a bitter smile. “Especially yours. With that… Olga.”
When Arthur finally reached his mother by telephone, he learned that she had only received news of her husband’s death around noon and was now at the morgue dealing with the paperwork.
His next call was to the company’s lawyer.
“Arthur, my condolences,” the lawyer said. “The board of directors has already met and appointed an interim manager. As for the inheritance of the assets, everything depends on the will. It will need to be read.”
“When can that be done?” Arthur asked impatiently.
“After the funeral. But you understand that you will most likely be the principal heir, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Arthur said with a smug smile. “Who else could it possibly be?”
When he returned to the room, Irina was sitting in an armchair, gently rocking their sleeping daughter. Sveta slept peacefully, unaware that her grandfather was gone.
“Your mother told me about your mistress,” Irina said quietly. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m filing for divorce,” he answered honestly, deciding that there was no longer any point in hiding it. “There’s no reason to continue this comedy.”
“Excellent.” Irina looked up at him, and there was no pain in her eyes. “Will you give up your daughter as well?”
Arthur was surprised by the suggestion. He had expected tears, pleading, and attempts to make him stay.
“Provided you don’t object,” she continued cautiously. “It would mean fewer problems with child support and visitation…”
“I don’t object,” Arthur said with a nod. “In fact, I insist on it.”
“Then we have an agreement,” Irina said with a relieved sigh.
“That turned out to be surprisingly easy,” Arthur thought, unaware that he had walked straight into a trap.
The funeral was modest. Nikolai had never liked extravagance while he was alive.
Arthur’s divorce was finalized quickly by mutual consent. He surrendered his parental rights, agreeing only to pay child support. Elena Nikolaevna was furious about his decision.
“Get rid of that… creature!” she demanded after Olga moved in with her son. “She destroyed your family!”
“Stop interfering in my life!” Arthur snapped. “I’m an adult, and I know what I’m doing!”
“An adult?” his mother repeated sarcastically. “Adults don’t abandon their children for the first pretty woman who comes along!”
“Olga isn’t some random woman! We love each other!”
“Love…” Elena Nikolaevna laughed bitterly. “We’ll see how long that love lasts.”
Realizing that Arthur had inherited his father’s stubbornness, Elena Nikolaevna decided to support her son.
“There can be many grandchildren, but I have only one son,” she reasoned.
“Irina, you need to move out,” she announced to her former daughter-in-law a week after the divorce. “At first, I will pay for a rented apartment so that you can get back on your feet.”
“Give me four months,” Irina requested calmly. “That will be enough time for me to settle everything.”
“Very well,” Elena Nikolaevna agreed graciously. “But after that, I will pack your belongings myself and take them wherever you tell me. I don’t want you dragging this out.”
“Don’t worry,” Irina said with a smile. “I’m not the kind of person who clings to the past.”
Time passed slowly and inexorably.
Realizing that reconciliation with his son was unlikely even in the distant future, Nikolai had decided to transfer all his assets to his granddaughter, Svetlana: his share of the apartment, his savings account, and the company’s shares.
Once all the inheritance documents had been properly completed, Irina paid her mother-in-law a courtesy visit.
“Elena Nikolaevna, you must now vacate my apartment,” Irina said with cold politeness.
“What do you mean, your apartment?” her mother-in-law asked in astonishment.
“It used to be yours,” Irina corrected her calmly. “Now the entire apartment belongs to Svetlana, and I am her legal representative until she comes of age. However, I am prepared to buy your former share from you at a fair price.”
Elena Nikolaevna blinked in confusion. Where had this little gray mouse found such nerve and such money?
But she truly had no choice.
“You… you do understand that what you’re doing is dishonest, don’t you?” she said, trying to appeal to Irina’s conscience.
“I’m acting sensibly,” Irina replied without the slightest concern. “After all, you always said that I wasn’t practical enough. Apparently, your lessons were not wasted.”
At the notary’s office, Elena Nikolaevna received the shock of her life. Neither she nor Arthur had received anything under the will.
Everything had gone to little Svetlana.
“How could this happen?” she screamed at her son. “You promised that you would sort everything out! You said your father would forgive you!”
“I thought…” Arthur muttered as he leafed through the documents. “He couldn’t have done this to me!”
“He could, and he did,” the notary remarked dryly. “The will was prepared in full compliance with the law. Contesting it will be extremely difficult.”
“We’ll try!” Elena Nikolaevna shouted furiously. “We’ll find a way!”
“With what funds?” the lawyer asked. “Legal expenses will not be cheap.”
When Olga discovered that Arthur had been left with practically nothing, she caused an enormous scandal, smashing dishes and screaming loudly enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.
“You promised me a comfortable, beautiful, carefree life!” she shrieked as she packed her belongings. “You told me about the inheritance and the apartment! But it turns out you’re nothing more than a useless loser and a penniless nobody!”
“Olga, wait! I’ll fix everything!” Arthur pleaded, trying to stop her. “We’ll think of something!”
“What exactly are you going to fix, you pathetic man?” she snorted contemptuously. “You couldn’t even persuade your own father! And I’m taking the car. It’s registered in my name!”
“What about our plans? What about the wedding?”
“What wedding could I possibly have with a bankrupt man?” Olga laughed viciously. “Find yourself a proper job first, and then we can talk. Until then, goodbye, loser!”
Carrying boxes filled with her belongings, Elena Nikolaevna returned to her son’s two-room apartment—the very apartment she and her late husband had purchased twenty-five years earlier.
She decided not to waste the money she had received for selling her share. Her son might also throw her out during a fit of anger one day.
“Mom, this is only temporary,” Arthur tried to reassure her as he cleared some space in the wardrobe. “I’ll find a better job and save some money…”
“What kind of job?” she laughed bitterly. “You have no management experience. Who needs you?”
“We’ll think of something,” her son muttered uncertainly.
“Oh yes, you’re very good at thinking of things,” his mother remarked venomously. “You’ve already thought up this wonderful life for us.”
Meanwhile, in the spacious four-room apartment, Irina was signing a contract appointing her executive director of the construction holding company.
Little Svetlana ran happily through the rooms with a Labrador puppy, which barked loudly with excitement.
“Mom, look how funny he is!” the girl cried joyfully. “He already knows his name! Barsik, come here!”
Irina smiled as she watched her daughter.
How wonderful it was that everything had worked out so well. There would be no more infidelity, no more daily humiliation from her mother-in-law, and no more scandals or accusations.
“Mommy, why doesn’t Daddy live with us anymore?” Svetlana asked as she sat down beside the puppy.
“Because adults sometimes can’t reach an agreement, sweetheart,” Irina explained gently. “But you and I are happy together, aren’t we?”
“Of course!” the girl laughed. “Now we have Barsik, and you don’t cry in the evenings anymore!”
In the next room, the company documents were lying on the desk. All of it now belonged to her daughter, which meant that it needed to be managed competently until Svetlana came of age.
The telephone rang melodically. It was her new secretary.
“Irina Sergeyevna, we have an important meeting with investors tomorrow regarding the new residential development,” she reported. “The documents have already been prepared.”
“Excellent. I’ll be ready,” Irina replied confidently.
She put down the telephone and looked out through the large living-room window.
Somewhere out there, in a cramped two-room apartment, Arthur and his mother were sitting together and calculating the child support payments for Svetlana.
Here, however, was her new life—a life she had built with her own hands and intelligence.
“Mommy, was Grandpa very clever?” Svetlana asked as she approached her mother.
“He was a very clever and fair man, darling,” Irina replied warmly, embracing her daughter. “He was an excellent judge of character.”
“So he knew that you would take good care of his work?”
“Exactly, my wise little girl.”
Meanwhile, in the old apartment, Arthur was unsuccessfully browsing job vacancies while Elena Nikolaevna angrily commented on his every move.
“See? They require experience!” she remarked sarcastically. “And what can you do? Nothing except spend money and change wives!”
“Mom, please don’t,” her son said wearily. “I already feel sick enough.”
“And do you think I’m enjoying myself?” she exploded. “I thought I would live like a human being in my old age, and now I’m back in this miserable den! All because of your stupidity!”
“I’ll change. I’ll find a job…”
“What are you going to change, you miserable womanizer?” his mother snorted contemptuously. “You should have studied law like your father told you to. Now all you’ll be able to do is repair computers. What a wonderful future!”
At that same moment, Irina was studying the company’s financial reports and marveling at her father-in-law’s foresight.
The old man truly had created a profitable business, one that would now become a solid foundation for Svetlana’s future.
“Mom, are we rich?” her daughter suddenly asked, peering over her shoulder at the numbers in the documents.
“We are financially secure, sweetheart,” Irina answered cautiously. “But intelligence and hard work are the greatest forms of wealth. Money is only a tool.”
“Like a hammer?”
“Something like that,” her mother said with a laugh. “You can use a hammer to build a house, or you can use it to destroy one. Everything depends on whose hands are holding it.”
“I understand!” the girl said with a nod. “Daddy didn’t know how to use that hammer, did he?”
“Unfortunately, no, darling. He didn’t.”
And that was the absolute truth—a completely different truth from the one they had known before.