“Give Lena the keys to the new apartment. Let her stay there for now. Family should help each other,” the mother-in-law ordered.
“Give Lena the keys. She needs the apartment more right now—she’s alone with a baby, you understand,” the mother-in-law said calmly, as though she were talking about something perfectly natural, and held out her hand.
Yulia tightened her grip on the bunch of keys. The metal had already warmed in her palm—she had been holding them for about twenty minutes while waiting in line at the public services center. Freshly stamped documents lay in her bag. Today, for the first time, she was supposed to open the door to her own apartment.
But standing next to Valentina Sergeyevna was Lena—with a baby stroller, two stuffed suitcases, and several large bags at her feet. A calm, almost proprietorial smile played on her face. As though everything had already been decided long ago. As though Yulia had simply been presented with a fait accompli.
For almost three years, Yulia and Nikolai had lived in rented apartments. Back then, they were still preparing for their wedding and dreaming of having a home of their own. “The landlady called again,” Nikolai said tiredly, tossing his jacket onto a chair. “Starting in January, she wants to raise the rent by five thousand.”
“Then we’ll save five thousand less,” Yulia replied calmly without looking away from her laptop.
During that time, they moved three times. Once, in the middle of winter, with boxes, suitcases, and a terrified cat because the landlord had decided to sell the apartment. Yulia quickly learned not to become attached to other people’s walls and always kept important documents in one place. But her dream of having her own home never disappeared. Quiet and stubborn, it helped her endure all the inconveniences.
When her parents offered to help, her mother called her herself.
“Yulia, your father and I have decided to sell the country house. We can’t really manage it anymore anyway. It would be better if that money went toward buying you an apartment.”
They put together the down payment jointly: the money from selling the country house and Yulia’s savings from several years. So they wouldn’t have to postpone buying a home, Yulia took out the mortgage in her own name before the wedding. She had a stable official job, and the bank approved the loan quickly. They got married several months later. Almost another year passed before the building was finally completed. All that remained was to install the kitchen, assemble the wardrobe, and move their belongings. Only a few days remained before the move.
One evening, they came to the apartment to check how the kitchen installation had turned out. They slowly walked through the rooms, discussing where the sofa would go and where to put the bookcase. Yulia could already imagine waking up here for the first time in her own bedroom.
By then, Nikolai’s younger sister, Lena, had given birth to a son. Her family was falling apart before everyone’s eyes: sometimes she left her husband and went to stay with her mother, then she returned to him, then she packed her things again.
When Valentina Sergeyevna learned that Yulia and Nikolai were only a few days away from moving in, she immediately called her son.
“Kolya, where is Lena supposed to go with a newborn? Let her stay at your place for a couple of weeks. You haven’t moved in yet anyway.”
That same evening, Nikolai told his wife about the conversation and said in a conciliatory tone:
“It really won’t be for long. In a couple of weeks, she’ll find somewhere else to go. We can’t exactly throw her out with a baby.”
Yulia said nothing.
But a few days later, she accidentally overheard a conversation between her mother-in-law and Lena. “You can change the wallpaper in the bedroom later if you want. And put the crib by the window—it’s brighter there.”
Yulia quietly closed the kitchen door and froze beside the window.
At that moment, she understood: this was no longer about temporary help. Everything had already been decided in her apartment without her—who would live there, where the furniture would go, and how the nursery would be arranged.
Yulia overheard the conversation by accident.
Nikolai was talking on the phone in the hallway, convinced that she was in the kitchen. But Yulia came out to get some water and involuntarily stopped beside the half-open door.
“Mom, don’t worry. Let Lena register the baby at the local clinic using this address. If necessary, we’ll arrange temporary registration. The apartment is a family apartment anyway. We’ll figure it out.”
Yulia froze with the glass in her hand.
The apartment is a family apartment anyway.
Without saying anything, she returned to the kitchen, put the glass on the table, and sat down. Nikolai continued discussing something with his mother for several more minutes, but Yulia was no longer listening. The same phrase kept repeating in her head.
No one had even thought to ask her. Not Nikolai. Not Valentina Sergeyevna. Not Lena. They had already decided who would live in the apartment, where the baby’s crib would go, and how the child’s registration would be arranged.
And all of this was happening in an apartment whose mortgage Yulia was paying.
The next day, she called her friend.
“Larisa, I think I’m starting to lose track of what’s happening.”
“Tell me everything.”
Yulia told her the whole story from the beginning.
Larisa was silent for a long time.
“You do understand that if Lena moves in with the baby, getting her to leave later could be much more difficult? Especially if they register her there.”
Yulia had been thinking the same thing. That was precisely why she had barely slept for the past several nights. More and more often, she imagined a month passing, then another, then a year. She imagined other people’s belongings appearing in her apartment, the furniture being changed, and someone else’s photographs hanging on the walls.
And one day, she herself would start feeling like an outsider there.
That evening, all her doubts disappeared.
She wasn’t angry. She simply understood that if she gave in now, one day she might lose not only the apartment but also the right to consider it her home.
On moving day, Yulia arrived at the new building carrying two boxes, convinced that she would finally cross the threshold of her own home.
But they were already waiting for her outside the entrance.
Valentina Sergeyevna stood slightly ahead of everyone else with the air of someone supervising the move. Lena stood beside her with the stroller. A taxi with its trunk open was parked near the entrance, and two movers were already taking out the suitcases.
“Take the nursery things straight to the far room,” the mother-in-law instructed. “It’s quieter there. The baby will sleep better.”
Yulia froze for several seconds.
Then she calmly walked up to the door, inserted the key into the lock, opened the apartment, and remained standing in the doorway.
“Today, I’m the only person entering this apartment.”
Valentina Sergeyevna blinked in confusion.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me perfectly well.”
“Do you understand that Lena has nowhere to go with her baby?” her mother-in-law’s voice rose to a shout. “Don’t you feel sorry for them at all?”
Lena lowered her eyes and tightened her grip on the stroller handle.
“Yulia, at least let her stay for a couple of weeks,” Nikolai said quietly. “We agreed…”
Yulia looked at her husband.
“No, Kolya. You agreed. Without me.”
For several seconds, no one said a word.
“This apartment belongs to me. I never gave anyone permission to live here. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll call the police.”
The movers exchanged glances and carefully put the suitcases down on the pavement.
Valentina Sergeyevna stared at her daughter-in-law for several more moments, then abruptly turned around and headed toward the car.
Lena silently pushed the stroller after her.
Nikolai remained standing where he was.
Yulia said nothing else. She stepped across the threshold, closed the door behind her, and for the first time felt that she had truly entered her own home.
Valentina Sergeyevna arrived that evening—as always, without calling first.
Yulia opened the door and silently stepped aside.
Her mother-in-law entered the hallway without even taking off her coat and immediately turned toward her daughter-in-law.
“Do you understand what you’ve done? You threw a woman with a nursing baby out onto the street. As though they were strangers.”
“Lena wasn’t left on the street,” Yulia replied calmly.
“You really are selfish!” Valentina Sergeyevna’s voice broke with anger. “Family members help each other instead of hiding behind paperwork!”
Nikolai stood silently by the window.
Yulia went into the room, returned with a folder, and placed it on the table.
“Here is the purchase agreement. Here are the apartment documents. And here is the mortgage repayment schedule. I made every one of these payments every month. My parents sold their country house to help me buy this home. Therefore, I—and only I—decide who is going to live in this apartment.”
Her mother-in-law had already opened her mouth to object when Nikolai unexpectedly spoke.
“Mom, enough.”
She looked at her son in surprise.
“You had no right to promise this apartment to Lena. It wasn’t your decision to make.”
For several seconds, Valentina Sergeyevna remained silent.
Then she silently picked up her handbag, left the apartment, and quietly closed the door behind her.
The home immediately became unusually quiet.
A few days later, Yulia discovered something she had never even suspected.
Lena called Nikolai herself.
“Kolya… tell Yulia that Vitya and I have made up. He’s been asking me to come back for a long time. He even rented an apartment near his work.”
Nikolai frowned in surprise.
“Wait… so you had somewhere to move to?”
There was a pause at the other end of the line.
“Mom said it would be better this way. She said you weren’t moving in for another few days anyway…”
That evening, Nikolai told Yulia about the conversation himself. They were sitting in the kitchen. He spent a long time turning his mug around in his hands before finally speaking.
“I really didn’t know anything about Vitya’s apartment.”
Yulia looked at her husband.
“I believe you.”
He sighed heavily.
“And there’s something else… I should have stopped Mom immediately. I shouldn’t have pretended that everything would somehow sort itself out. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t make excuses.
For the first time in several days, Yulia felt the tension gradually beginning to leave her.
A week later, they finally moved the last of their boxes. They assembled furniture together, argued about the bookshelves, and laughed when Nikolai finally managed to hang the hallway mirror straight on his third attempt.
That evening, when Yulia turned the key in the lock of her now fully lived-in apartment, she suddenly remembered how many years she had dreamed of this exact moment.
For some time afterward, Valentina Sergeyevna continued telling relatives that her daughter-in-law had thrown a mother with a newborn baby out of the house.
But before long, almost no one was interested in discussing the story anymore.
Sometimes Yulia remembered that day outside the entrance: the stroller, the suitcases, the confused movers, and her mother-in-law’s outstretched hand.
Now she remembered it without anger.
Simply as the day when, for the first time, she truly defended her boundaries.
Not just her apartment.
Her home.
Nikolai didn’t change overnight. He simply gradually stopped agreeing with his mother out of habit.
One day, Valentina Sergeyevna called and asked him to lend the car to his nephew for a week.
“I’ll talk to Yulia first,” he replied calmly. “Then I’ll call you back.”
After a brief pause, his mother said:
“All right.”
From then on, she stopped making decisions for them. She only came to visit after calling first, drank tea in their new kitchen, and sometimes complimented the curtains or the color of the walls.
And that turned out to be more than enough.
In the evenings, Yulia loved sitting by the window with a cup of tea and looking at the lights in the neighboring buildings.
Now, at last, she had a place where no one could decide for her who should be given the keys.
That was exactly what a real home was supposed to be.