“I’m leaving for someone else, but I’m not giving up the apartment. Live wherever you want,” the husband said, unaware that Zhenya had been preparing for this very conversation for six months.

Igor snatched the documents from the man’s hands. He read them once, twice, three times. The letters blurred.

« This is nonsense. This is my mother’s apartment. She couldn’t… »

— She could. She’s the owner. She was. Now she’s a different person. You have seven days.

Christina left the room. Wearing a robe, holding a cup of coffee, and with that expression on her face that people who are confident in their own invulnerability have.

– What’s happened?

— Mother sold the apartment.

— What?! How did you sell it? You said the apartment was practically yours!

— It was registered in the mother’s name!

– And you didn’t tell me this?!

« I thought it was a formality! I thought mother would never… »

Christina set down the cup. Slowly, with that metallic sound that made Igor uneasy.

« Igor, I left my ex-husband because he couldn’t provide stability. You promised me stability. An apartment. A normal life. And now it turns out we have nowhere to live? »

« I’ll figure it out. I’ll call my mother. She can’t do this to me. »

He called. Ten times. Twenty. Nina Vasilyevna didn’t pick up. On the twenty-first call, a message arrived: « I’m at the seaside. I bought a house. When you want to talk like an adult, come over. I’ll send you the address. »

Igor threw the phone on the sofa. Kristina silently gathered her things.

— Where are you going?

— To a friend’s. Until you figure things out. I don’t plan on ending up on the street in a month.

– Chris, wait…

— No. First, sort things out with your mother, your apartment, your life. And then we’ll talk.

The door slammed. Igor was left alone.

He called Artyom. He listened and smiled.

– Well, what did you expect? You kicked out your wife and kids. Mother’s not stupid.

– You yourself told me that Zhenya is simple, that she will swallow it.

— Did I say she’s simple? I said she’s too good for you. Those are two different things.

– Artyom, are you my friend or what?

« I’m your friend. But I’m an honest friend. You screwed up, Igor. »

Then he called Maxim. Maxim was cheerful and optimistic.

— Go to your mother! Put pressure on her! She’s your mother, she’ll forgive you. Cry, confess, say you understand. Women—they’re susceptible to emotions. Especially mothers.

— Do you think it will work?

— One hundred percent. Take Christina with you. Show that you’re serious, that you have a family. Mother will see it and soften.

Igor clung to this thought like a drowning man to a rope.

The house stood on the shore. White walls, a tiled roof, grapes lining the fence. The gate was open. Children’s laundry was drying on a line in the yard, and a ginger cat was sleeping on the porch.

Igor arrived with Kristina. She finally agreed—but on the condition that this was her last chance. They entered the courtyard, and Igor immediately saw his mother. Nina Vasilyevna was sitting at a table under the awning, peeling peaches.

“Hello,” said Igor.

– Hello, son. Would you like to introduce me?

— This is Christina. My… wife.

« Wife, » Nina Vasilievna repeated without intonation. « Sit down. There’s compote in the fridge. »

Christina looked around. The house was nice. Big. Bright. With a sea view. Her eyes sparkled.

« It’s a beautiful house, Nina Vasilievna. You’ve settled in well. »

– Thank you. I’m settled in.

Igor sat across from his mother. He’d been preparing his speech the entire journey. He’d spent three hours in the car rehearsing his words, intonations, and pauses.

« Mom, why did you do this? Why did you sell the apartment? This is my home. I grew up there. »

— You grew up there. And then you kicked out a woman with two children. My grandchildren.

— I didn’t kick you out. I asked you to leave.

« Live wherever you want. » That’s not a request, Igor. It’s an order.

– You had no right to sell without my consent!

— Yes, I did. The apartment is mine. My name is on the documents. I can do whatever I want with it.

Christina cleared her throat and moved closer to the table.

« Nina Vasilievna, we didn’t come here to quarrel. We want to talk. Maybe we can resolve this somehow? You have a big house. Maybe we could… »

– What’s here?

— To stay. Until everything is sorted out. There’s enough room here for everyone.

Nina Vasilyevna put down her knife. She looked at Kristina with that look that makes the person’s hands go numb.

– Darling, did you know that Igor has two children?

– I know.

— Did you know that his ex-wife got up at five in the morning for three years to have time to cook, do the laundry, and clean—and never once asked for a ruble more than he gave her?

— It’s their business. Their relationship.

« No. It’s my business. Because I watched it for three years and saw myself in it. I was the same. And my husband did to me what Igor did to her. »

Igor stood up.

« Mother, that’s enough. We came here to resolve this issue. The house is yours. I only ask for justice. I have nowhere to live. »

— And where was Zhenya?

– She has parents!

— Those who have three rooms for six people, where the disabled brother lives. You know this very well.

– It’s not my problem!

– Now they’re yours.

Silence fell. Kristina fidgeted with her glass. Igor was breathing heavily. Nina Vasilyevna looked at him without anger—with the calm one looks at a person they’ve long since stopped trying to change.

« Mother, I beg you. For the last time. Divide the house. Or give me part of the money from the sale. »

– I can’t.

– Why?

– Because the house is not mine.

Igor blinked. Christina froze.

— How is it not yours? You said you bought a house!

— I said, « I bought a house. » I didn’t say in whose name.

Zhenya emerged from the house. She was wearing a light dress, tanned, and holding her daughter. Behind her came the second child, a three-year-old boy, Nina Vasilyevna’s grandson, who resembled Igor so much that he involuntarily took a step back.

“Hello, Igor,” said Zhenya.

He was silent. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

« The house is registered in my name. Nina Vasilievna sold both apartments—hers and the one you lived in. The proceeds went toward buying this house. In my name. Everything is legal. Everything is registered. »

« You… » Igor choked. « You’ve been planning this for six months? »

« I washed your shirts for six months while you went to see your mistress. I smiled for six months while you lied to my face. Yes, I planned it. Because you left me no choice. »

Christina stood up. Her face turned white. She looked at Igor the way one looks at someone who has just turned out to be something other than what they claimed to be.

« You told me the apartment was yours. That your mother would support you. That you had everything under control. »

– Chris, I didn’t know…

« You didn’t know the apartment was registered to your mother? Or didn’t you know your mother was a normal person? »

She turned and walked toward the car. Igor rushed after her.

— Chris, wait! We’ll figure this out! I’ll talk to a lawyer!

Christina turned around. There was neither love nor pity in her eyes.

« No, Igor. You figure it out. You’re alone. You promised stability. And you’re nothing. »

The car started and drove away. A cloud of dust hung over the road and slowly settled.

Igor stood in the yard. Alone. Without an apartment, without a new wife, without an old one. His mother was peeling peaches. Zhenya had gone into the house. The children were laughing somewhere inside.

The ginger cat stretched out on the porch and fell asleep again.

Nina Vasilievna did not raise her head.

« There’s compote in the fridge, Igor. If you want, drink it and go. If you want to talk, sit down and listen. But I’ll be the one doing the talking. And only once. »

He sat down. For the first time in years, silently. For the first time, without a plan. Without confidence. Without a way out.

Zhenya stood by the window, watching the autumn sun set over the sea. Her daughter tugged at the hem of her dress. Zhenya picked her up and hugged her.

She didn’t look back.

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