“I warned you that we might come over at any time. So set the table!”
“Olga, don’t make me laugh. The apartment is registered in my name,” Valentina Ivanovna’s voice turned icy. “You know that perfectly well. Therefore, I am the only one who will decide when it is sold.”
“Mom, we have a small child. Maksim isn’t even three yet, and he doesn’t go to kindergarten. I’m not working. We’re saving for a place of our own, but for now… Where are we supposed to live?”
Olga never looked forward to calls from her mother. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to one simple truth: whenever Valentina Ivanovna remembered that she had a daughter, it meant she needed something.
That evening, the phone rang at half past seven, just as Olga was sitting down to dinner with her husband and their little son.
“Hi, Olya!” her mother said in an energetic, deliberately friendly voice. “Viktor and I have decided to drop by. We’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”
“This is so unexpected, and it’s already rather late…” Olga began, but her mother interrupted her.
“I warned you that we might come over at any time. So set the table! After all, the apartment you live in was bought with our money, so have some decency.”
Olga ended the call and sat motionless for a while, staring at a single point. Her husband, Andrei, sighed knowingly.
“Your mother?”
“Yes,” Olga replied shortly. “She says they’ll be here in half an hour. And she didn’t forget to remind me whose apartment this is,” she added with a bitter smirk.
Memories flashed through Olga’s mind.
She had been only ten when her father died. She missed him terribly, grieved deeply, and had no idea how she was supposed to go on living. Her mother, however, was already shining in a new dress just a couple of months later, walking arm in arm with Viktor.
He had never shown the slightest interest in the life of his new partner’s daughter, much less in her schoolwork, friends, or dreams. He might bring home an expensive cake and immediately eat half of it himself without even asking whether Olya liked that kind.
From that moment on, Valentina Ivanovna seemed to erase her daughter from her life. Expensive resorts, restaurants, and fashionable boutiques became her new reality. Meanwhile, Olya learned how to make soup from whatever food was available, sew buttons back onto clothes, and brew tea in her grandmother’s old teapot.
Grandmother Katya was the only person who kept the girl from feeling completely abandoned. She was the one who taught her granddaughter how to remain strong when there was no one around to support her.
When Olga turned eighteen, her mother handed her the keys to a small apartment in an ordinary, aging apartment block. The building was located in a less-than-respectable neighborhood, but although the apartment was small, it had two rooms.
“I begged Viktor to give you this apartment. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t owe you anything,” her mother said. “So from now on, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bother us. And if you ever decide to have children, they will be entirely your problem.”
After that, they rarely saw each other.
Valentina Ivanovna remembered her daughter only when she wanted to boast to acquaintances about “what an independent, grown-up daughter she had.” Naturally, she never explained how that independence had been achieved. She simply did not care.
Now, for the first time in a year, her mother had decided to call. Olga immediately became wary. She could feel that something was wrong, and anxiety began to rise inside her.
“Should we set two more places at the table?” Andrei touched his wife’s hand. “What do you think? Or does your mother refuse to eat ordinary food?”
Olga gave a bitter smile.
“Mom believes that guests must always be fed. But she constantly criticizes us for living too modestly.”
“Well,” Andrei replied, “we do what we can.”
Andrei earned a good salary, and they were even saving for an apartment of their own, but to Valentina Ivanovna, all of that was insignificant. She had formed her opinion of her son-in-law long ago and had no intention of changing it.
As soon as Olga learned that her mother was coming, she hurried into the bedroom to fix her hair, find a clean shirt for Andrei, and change her son into his new outfit decorated with little lions.
Over the years, she had developed a reflex: whenever her mother visited, everyone had to look as though they lived just as well as she did.
Exactly thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Valentina Ivanovna and Viktor Anatolyevich looked as though they had stepped straight off the cover of a glossy magazine. He wore a perfectly tailored suit and an expensive watch. She was dressed in a pastel silk dress, with flawless hair and large gold earrings.
The woman entered the kitchen and swept her gaze across the table, where Olga was hurriedly arranging plates. She gave a quiet snort, brushed invisible dust from a stool, and sat down with her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Viktor remained standing beside her, resting one hand lightly against his hip and staring out of the window.
“Olya, don’t trouble yourself,” her mother suddenly said, stopping her fussing. “We didn’t come here to eat. We just need to talk.”
An unpleasant chill spread through Olga’s body. Whenever Valentina Ivanovna said those words, they never meant anything good.
“The thing is, Viktor is currently experiencing… some minor business difficulties,” her mother said, casting a brief glance at her partner. “But we are sensible people, so we’ve decided to sell some of our property to stabilize the situation.”
“Are the problems serious?” Olga asked cautiously.
“Yes,” her mother nodded. “We’ve decided to sell two of our six cars. And… your apartment.”
“What?” Olga could barely breathe. “But this apartment isn’t worth that much. Viktor’s cars cost far more.”
“Olga, don’t make me laugh. The apartment is registered in my name,” Valentina Ivanovna’s voice became icy. “You know that perfectly well. Therefore, I am the only one who will decide when it is sold.”
“Mom, we have a small child. Maksim isn’t even three yet, and he doesn’t go to kindergarten. I’m not working. We’re saving for a place of our own, but for now… Where are we supposed to live?”
“That is your problem,” her mother interrupted, rising from her seat. “You have a husband. Let him figure it out. The apartment must be empty in two weeks.”
Viktor did not even bother to look at Olga.
They headed toward the door as though they had merely come to collect a forgotten item rather than destroy Olga’s life and the life of her family.
She remained standing in the middle of the kitchen, feeling as though the ground were disappearing beneath her feet. Maksim was playing quietly in the next room, unaware that someone else would soon be playing in his bedroom.
Andrei entered the kitchen. When he saw his wife sitting on a chair with an empty expression, he walked over, placed his arms around her shoulders, and spoke softly.
“So, I suppose we’re moving?”
Olga looked up at him. Tears were already shining in her eyes, but Andrei appeared remarkably calm.
“You… aren’t angry?” she asked quietly.
“At whom? At you?” He smiled faintly. “You haven’t done anything wrong. As for your mother… I understood what kind of woman she was a long time ago.”
He sat beside her, took her hand, and continued gently.
“I’ll call my mother first thing tomorrow. Her apartment has empty rooms now. Larisa got married, so two rooms are free. Mom lives alone, and she’ll be happy if we move in with her.”
Olga frowned.
“Won’t she mind?”
“Are you serious?” Andrei gave a small laugh. “That’s probably all she dreams about. Because of her back, she doesn’t get much company and hardly ever leaves the apartment. We’ll keep her company, and she absolutely adores Maksim.”
He had already dialed her number, and the conversation with Svetlana Anatolyevna lasted only a couple of minutes.
When she heard the news, the woman was genuinely delighted.
“Of course you should come! There’s nothing to discuss. You’ll live with me until you get back on your feet. And at least I won’t feel as though I’m locked inside four walls.”
By the time Andrei ended the call, everything had already been decided.
“That’s it,” he told his wife. “We’re moving in with Mom. We’ll stay there until Maksim starts kindergarten and you return to work. Then we’ll save enough money and buy our own apartment, a place no one will ever dare throw us out of.”
Olga nodded.
Valentina Ivanovna did not call again. She merely sent a message demanding the keys and confirming the date by which the apartment had to be empty.
She did not ask where her daughter and grandson would live. She showed no trace of concern.
Olga was no longer surprised by such behavior. She merely thanked fate in silence for giving her Andrei and his family, who had become her true source of support.
Olga decided not to wait until the last moment. Within a week, all their belongings had been carefully packed into boxes, the furniture had been dismantled, and their clothes had been folded into bags.
Andrei helped on weekends, while during the week a neighbor watched Maksim so that Olga could pack in peace.
On moving day, Olga called Valentina Ivanovna.
“We’ve moved out. Come and collect the keys.”
Forty minutes later, a gleaming SUV slowly entered the courtyard.
Her mother did not even get out of the car. She lowered the window and waved her hand.
Olga silently walked over and handed her the key ring. Their eyes met for a couple of seconds. There was not a trace of regret in her mother’s gaze, only the same familiar, cold indifference.
“Well, goodbye,” Valentina Ivanovna said before pressing the accelerator.
Olga watched the vehicle disappear around the corner, unaware that this would be their final meeting for the next five years.
Yet deep inside, she already understood that the farther she stayed from her mother, the easier her life would become.
Life in Svetlana Anatolyevna’s apartment soon settled into a comfortable routine.
Her mother-in-law welcomed them warmly, and Maksim immediately became attached to his grandmother. Despite her bad back, Svetlana Anatolyevna gradually began spending more time outside with her grandson.
Olga helped her perform gentle exercises and showed her routines designed to strengthen her muscles. Over time, Svetlana Anatolyevna was able not only to sit on a bench in the courtyard but also to take walks through the park on her own.
When Maksim grew older and started kindergarten, Olga returned to work.
They chose a kindergarten close to her mother-in-law’s home so that it would be easy for Svetlana Anatolyevna to collect the boy whenever Olga was delayed.
They all lived together peacefully, and for the first time in years, Olya felt that she belonged to a real family.
Some time later, Andrei came home from work with a mysterious smile.
“I’ve found a good option. Let’s go see it tomorrow.”
It turned out to be a two-room apartment in the neighboring building. It was spacious, the rooms faced opposite sides of the building, and the kitchen was large.
The interior, however, was a complete disaster: bare walls, old pipes, and not the slightest sign of renovation.
“But the layout is excellent,” Andrei said, already imagining where their bedroom would be and which room would belong to Maksim. “We’ll take out a mortgage and renovate it gradually while we’re living with Mom.”
Olga and Andrei quickly settled into a new rhythm of life.
In the morning, they went to work while Maksim went to kindergarten. In the evenings, Svetlana Anatolyevna happily looked after her grandson, took him outside to play, organized little picnics with him, and even began talking more often with the neighborhood women.
After returning from work in the evenings, Olga and Andrei hurried to renovate the apartment. They plastered the walls, replaced the wiring, and ordered new windows.
During that time, Maksim either played at his grandmother’s home or watched with fascination as his father tightened screws and arranged his tools.
Larisa and her husband occasionally visited.
At first, she was somewhat reserved about her brother and his family moving into their mother’s apartment, and she even made a few sharp remarks. But when she learned that Olga had lost her home because of her own mother’s decision, Larisa softened.
Several months later, when Larisa announced that she was pregnant, her attitude changed completely.
She began calling Olga frequently and asking for advice about everything, from choosing a stroller to nutrition during pregnancy. Olga, who worked as a pediatrician, was happy to help and share her experience.
After a year and a half of renovations, dust, and endless trips to hardware stores, the long-awaited moving day finally arrived.
Olga, Andrei, and Maksim moved into their own apartment at last. There was still plenty of work ahead, but the apartment was already habitable.
Even so, they continued gathering at Svetlana Anatolyevna’s home in the evenings.
During dinner, they discussed the latest news. Maksim showed his drawings to his grandmother, while she laughed and told stories from her youth.
Svetlana Anatolyevna became far more than a relative to them. She was their guardian angel, the person who had stood beside them at the exact moment Olga’s own mother had turned her back.
Five years later, when Maksim turned seven, Olga and Andrei’s life was peaceful and secure.
They were preparing their son for school, Olga was expecting their second child, and their cozy apartment was filled with the smell of fresh pastries and the sound of laughter.
That was when Valentina Ivanovna suddenly reappeared.
Her call was unexpected, and her voice sounded uncertain, almost pleading.
It turned out that Viktor had found himself a twenty-year-old mistress. Apparently, he had decided that he wanted some excitement in his life.
Valentina Ivanovna and Viktor Anatolyevich had never been officially married. Moreover, during his difficult financial period, Viktor had specifically proposed selling the property registered in Valentina’s name: the two cars and the apartment.
Without ceremony, he threw her out, leaving her without a home or any money.
“Olya,” her mother said, her voice trembling, “I have nowhere to go. Could I stay with you? Just for a little while…”
Her mother’s words unexpectedly reminded Olga of the children’s cartoon about The Cat’s House.
Once, the proud Aunt Cat had driven her poor kitten nephews away from her door. Then, after losing everything herself, she had been forced to come and ask them for shelter.
But Olga was no helpless kitten. She was a grown woman who remembered far too well how indifferently her mother had erased her from her life.
“Mom,” she replied calmly, “I’m sorry, but no. We don’t have any room. I’m pregnant, and our second child will be born soon. You’ll manage on your own, just as you always have.”
Silence followed.
All Olga could hear was her mother’s heavy sigh, followed by a brief response.
“I understand.”
Olga ended the call and took a deep breath.
The decision had not been easy, but she knew it was the right one. Valentina Ivanovna had never done anything to deserve her daughter’s affection, much less her help.
It was time to pay the price for her choices.