Lilia bought an apartment when she was twenty-six. She had saved money for five years while working as a manager at a trading company. Every penny went into savings: she gave up entertainment, wore old clothes, and economized on everything. When she finally signed the purchase agreement, her hands trembled with happiness. It was a one-room apartment on the outskirts of the city, but it was hers.
She met Dmitry a year after buying it. It happened at a colleague’s company party. He was tall, charming, and knew how to give compliments. He courted her beautifully: flowers, restaurants, walks through the evening city. Six months later, he suggested moving in with Lilia.
“Why do you need a rented apartment?” Lilia asked. “Move in with me.”
Dmitry agreed. He brought two bags of belongings and a box of books. He settled onto the sofa and turned on the television.
“It’s cozy here,” he said. “Feels like home.”
The first months passed peacefully. Dmitry worked as a programmer, came home late, tired. Lilia cooked dinner and tried to make things comfortable. Everything seemed right, stable.
A year later, Dmitry proposed marriage. Lilia agreed without hesitation. The wedding was modest, only close relatives and friends. Lilia’s parents came from another city, Dmitry’s parents from a neighboring district. They celebrated in a café, danced, and congratulated one another.
After the wedding, Dmitry brought up the issue of ownership.
“Lilya, let’s put the apartment in both our names,” her husband said one evening. “We’re a family now. Everything should be fair between spouses.”
Lilia thought about it.
“Why? The apartment is already mine, and you live here.”
“I understand,” Dmitry nodded. “But legally, I’m nobody. What if something happens? It’s better to be safe.”
“What could happen?”
“Anything can happen. Documents should be handled properly. I just want everything between us to be fair.”
Lilia thought for a long time. On the one hand, the apartment had been bought before the marriage with her own money. On the other hand, Dmitry was her husband, and it felt awkward to refuse. In the end, she agreed.
“All right. Let’s do it.”
A week later, they went to a notary. They transferred a share to Dmitry. Now the apartment belonged to both of them—half to each. Dmitry beamed and hugged his wife.
“Thank you, my dear Lilya. You have no idea how important it is for me to feel like a full owner.”
Lilia smiled. Something inside her pricked uneasily, but she pushed her doubts away. He was her husband, her own person. Not an enemy.
Several months passed. Dmitry began showing a strange interest in the documents. He might casually ask where the apartment papers were kept. Or ask to see the ownership certificate.
“Why do you need it?” Lilia would ask in surprise.
“I’m just curious,” her husband would answer. “I want to know that everything is all right with the documents.”
Lilia would show him. Dmitry would study them carefully, nod, and put them back.
One autumn evening, Lilia came home earlier than usual. Classes at the school had been canceled because of heating repairs. She opened the door quietly so as not to wake her husband if he was asleep. But Dmitry was not asleep. He was talking on the phone in the kitchen, his voice low, almost a whisper.
Lilia stopped in the hallway and listened.
“Yes, we’ll arrange it quickly. The client is reliable. I’ll handle everything,” Dmitry was saying. “The apartment is good, in normal condition. There’s already a buyer. All that’s left is to sign the agreement.”
Lilia froze. What apartment was he talking about? What deal?
“Lilya doesn’t know anything?” someone on the other end asked. The voice was unclear, but Lilia made out the question.
“No, she doesn’t,” Dmitry replied. “And she won’t know until everything is ready. I’ll tell her we’re selling it to buy a bigger place. She’ll agree. She always agrees.”
Lilia stood in the hallway, unable to move. Her heart was pounding so loudly it seemed her husband would hear it. Dmitry continued the conversation, discussing the details of the deal, deadlines, and amounts.
Lilia quietly left the apartment. She went down to the first floor and sat on a bench near the entrance. Her hands were shaking, and everything swam before her eyes. Dmitry was going to sell the apartment. Her apartment. The very one she had saved for five years to buy. And he was going to do it without her knowledge.
Lilia took out her phone and opened Dmitry’s recent calls list. They used a shared phone plan, so all calls were displayed in the personal account. She found the number her husband had just spoken to. It was unfamiliar, but there was a name next to it: Sergey.
Lilia dialed the number. He answered immediately.
“Hello, real estate agency, how can I help you?” a man’s voice said.
“Hello,” Lilia tried to speak calmly. “My name is Svetlana. I’m looking for an apartment, and I was advised to contact Sergey.”
“That’s me. I’m listening.”
“Do you have any one-room apartments on the outskirts?”
“There is one. It’s just becoming available. Dmitry has listed the apartment for sale and is ready to close the deal within a week. Would you like to see it?”
Lilia clenched her teeth.
“Yes, I would. Can I have the address?”
The realtor named the address. Lilia’s apartment address.
“Thank you, I’ll think about it and call you back,” Lilia said, then ended the call.
Lilia sat on the bench and stared into emptiness. Her husband was selling the apartment. Without her knowledge, without her consent. He had simply decided and acted. As if Lilia did not exist.
Lilia got up and walked down the street. The November wind tugged at her hair, but she did not feel the cold. Inside her burned a fire of rage and hurt. She had to act. Urgently.
When she returned home, Lilia found Dmitry on the sofa in front of the television.
“You’re already home?” her husband asked in surprise. “Early today.”
“They’re fixing the heating. They let us go early,” Lilia answered shortly.
“I see. Are you going to make dinner?”
“I am.”
Lilia went into the kitchen and began cutting vegetables. Her hands moved automatically while thoughts spun in her head. She needed a plan. Clear, quick, effective.
That evening, when Dmitry fell asleep, Lilia took all the apartment documents from the safe: the ownership certificate, the purchase agreement, the technical passport. She put everything into a folder and hid it in her bag.
The next day after work, Lilia did not go home. She went to a lawyer she knew. Alexey Petrovich worked at a private office, helped prepare documents, and gave advice on complicated matters. Lilia had turned to him a year earlier when they transferred a share to Dmitry.
“Lilia Sergeyevna, what brings you here?” Alexey Petrovich asked kindly, letting her into his office.
“I need help,” Lilia said, sitting down. “Urgently.”
“I’m listening.”
Lilia told him everything: about the overheard conversation, the call to the realtor, and her husband’s plans. Alexey Petrovich listened carefully, occasionally nodding.
“I understand,” the lawyer said when Lilia finished. “The situation is complicated, but solvable. You want to return the apartment to your sole ownership?”
“Yes. As quickly as possible.”
“That is possible. We need to draw up a deed of gift. Dmitry will give you his share, and the apartment will be yours again.”
“But Dmitry won’t agree to give it away! He’s planning to sell it!”
Alexey Petrovich smirked.
“He will agree if it’s presented correctly. Tell him it needs to be re-registered for tax benefits. Or for obtaining a loan. We’ll come up with a story. The main thing is that he signs the deed of gift.”
“And if he doesn’t believe it?”
“Then through court. But that will take a long time. Better to do it amicably.”
Lilia thought about it. Deceiving her husband disgusted her, but she had no choice. Dmitry had deceived her first.
“All right. Let’s try.”
Alexey Petrovich prepared the documents: a deed of gift transferring Dmitry’s share to Lilia. Everything was drawn up correctly and legally.
“Come with your husband tomorrow at ten in the morning,” the lawyer said. “I’ll explain everything, and he’ll sign.”
The next day, Lilia got up early and made breakfast. Dmitry came out of the bedroom sleepy and stretched.
“Why did you get up so early?” he asked.
“We need to go to the lawyer,” Lilia said, pouring coffee. “Alexey Petrovich called yesterday. He says we need to re-register the apartment documents. For tax benefits.”
Dmitry became wary.
“What benefits?”
“Well, if the apartment is registered to one owner, you can get a deduction. But when it’s in two names, the deduction is smaller. Alexey Petrovich explained it, but I didn’t fully understand. You’d better hear it yourself.”
Her husband frowned.
“And why do we need a deduction? We’re not selling the apartment.”
Lilia froze. Her heart dropped. Dmitry was looking at her searchingly.
“Well, you never know,” Lilia tried to speak calmly. “It may come in handy someday. Alexey Petrovich said it’s better to arrange everything in advance.”
Dmitry was silent for a while, then nodded.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
They arrived at the lawyer’s office at ten in the morning. Alexey Petrovich greeted them warmly and seated them at the table.
“So,” the lawyer began. “Lilia Sergeyevna, Dmitry, your apartment is registered to both of you. That is not always convenient. If one spouse wants to sell their share, the other may not have time to buy it out. Problems can begin.”
“We’re not planning to sell,” Dmitry said.
“Of course, of course,” Alexey Petrovich nodded. “But it is better to protect yourselves. I suggest drawing up a deed of gift. Dmitry gives his share to Lilia, and the apartment becomes her sole property. It is simpler and safer that way.”
“Safer for whom?” Dmitry smirked. “For Lilia?”
“For both of you. If the apartment is in one person’s name, no one can sell it without the owner’s knowledge. But when it belongs to two people, each can dispose of their own share.”
Dmitry thought about it. Lilia sat beside him, trying not to betray her anxiety. Her fingers gripped the handle of her bag until it hurt.
“And what if I don’t want to gift it?” Dmitry asked.
“That is your right,” Alexey Petrovich answered calmly. “But then complications may arise. For example, if you decide to sell the apartment and buy a new one. You’ll have to prepare powers of attorney, consents. Extra bureaucracy.”
“We’re not planning to sell,” Dmitry repeated.
“Very well. Then everything stays as it is.”
Dmitry looked at Lilia.
“Why are you silent?”
“I agree with Alexey Petrovich,” Lilia said quietly. “I think it’s simpler this way.”
“Simpler for you,” Dmitry noted. “It makes no difference to me.”
“Then sign it. If it makes no difference.”
Her husband was silent. Then he took the pen and signed the deed of gift. Alexey Petrovich certified the signature and folded the documents.
“Excellent. Now we need to submit this to Rosreestr. Everything will be ready in a week.”
They left the office. Dmitry was gloomy and silent the whole way home. Lilia was silent too, but inside she was rejoicing. The first step had been taken.
A week later, Alexey Petrovich called.
“Lilia Sergeyevna, the documents are ready. The apartment is yours again. Congratulations.”
Lilia exhaled in relief. Now Dmitry would not be able to sell the apartment. It belonged only to her.
But Dmitry knew nothing. He continued calling the realtor and discussing the details of the deal. Lilia listened to the conversations while hiding in the next room, and each time she was amazed by her husband’s arrogance.
“Yes, everything is going according to plan,” Dmitry would say. “Next week we’ll meet the buyer and discuss the price. My wife suspects nothing.”
Lilia clenched her teeth. My wife suspects nothing. How wrong he was.
One evening, Dmitry announced:
“Lilya, we need to talk.”
“About what?” Lilia asked, putting down her book.
“About our future. I’ve been thinking… Maybe we should sell the apartment and buy something bigger? A two-room apartment, for example. Or a three-room one. So there’s room for children.”
“What children? We don’t have children.”
“We will. Sooner or later. We need to think ahead.”
Lilia looked at her husband and did not recognize him. This man was lying to her face without blinking. He was talking about children and the future, while planning to sell the apartment and pocket the money.
“I don’t want to sell,” Lilia said firmly.
“Why? We could buy something better!”
“I don’t want to. This apartment is mine. I bought it with my own money. I’m not going to sell it.”
Dmitry frowned.
“Yours? Lilya, we registered it in both our names!”
“We did. Then we re-registered it.”
Her husband froze.
“What do you mean, re-registered?”
“You signed a deed of gift. A week ago. At Alexey Petrovich’s office. The apartment is mine again.”
Dmitry’s face turned white.
“You… You deceived me?”
“You deceived me too. You wanted to sell the apartment without my knowledge. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
Dmitry jumped up from the sofa.
“How do you know?!”
“I heard your conversation with the realtor. Then I called Sergey myself. He told me everything.”
Her husband stood in the middle of the room, his mouth open. Then his face twisted with anger.
“You… You set all this up on purpose! You forced me to sign the deed of gift!”
“I didn’t force you. You signed it yourself. Alexey Petrovich is a witness.”
“I signed because you lied! You said it was for tax benefits!”
“And you were planning to sell the apartment without my consent. Which one of us is the bigger liar?”
Dmitry clenched his fists. Lilia stood up, preparing for the worst. But her husband did not hit her. He simply turned around and left the room, slamming the door.
Lilia heard Dmitry calling someone on the phone. His voice was loud and angry.
“Mom, I’ve got a problem. Lilya re-registered the apartment in her name. What should I do?”
Lilia could not hear the answer, but she could guess. Her mother-in-law always supported her son and considered her daughter-in-law unworthy.
Dmitry returned ten minutes later. His face was grim but calm.
“Fine,” her husband said. “You won this round. But the game isn’t over.”
“What game?” Lilia asked in surprise.
“Life. Marriage. Money. It’s all a game. And I know how to play.”
Dmitry went into the bedroom and closed the door. Lilia remained standing in the living room. Anxiety rose inside her. What was her husband planning?
The next day, Dmitry behaved strangely. He was polite, even considerate. He made breakfast, washed the dishes, and asked how her day had gone. Lilia became suspicious. Such behavior was unusual for him.
“Lilya, forgive me,” Dmitry said that evening. “I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have planned the sale without your knowledge.”
“Are you seriously apologizing?”
“Absolutely. I realized I was wrong. The apartment is yours. You have the right to do with it as you wish.”
Lilia did not believe a single word. Dmitry was not the kind of person who admitted mistakes. He was planning something. Something bad.
“All right,” Lilia said cautiously. “I accept your apology.”
“Excellent. Then let’s forget about it and start over with a clean slate.”
Dmitry hugged his wife. Lilia froze in her husband’s arms, feeling the falseness in every gesture.
A week passed. Dmitry continued playing the role of the exemplary husband. He helped around the house, bought flowers, and gave compliments. Lilia endured it, but inside her grew the certainty that something would happen soon.
And it did.
On Friday evening, Dmitry came home with a smug smile. His face was shining, his walk light, almost dancing. He threw his jacket right onto the hallway floor, went into the kitchen, and took a beer from the refrigerator.
Lilia was sitting in the living room with a book. She looked up when her husband entered and dropped onto the sofa opposite her.
“Lilya, I have news for you,” Dmitry said, opening the can.
“What news?”
“Excellent news.” Her husband took a sip of beer and smirked. “From this day on, you’re homeless!”
Lilia slowly closed her book.
“What did you say?”
“I submitted the documents for the sale,” Dmitry leaned back against the sofa. “The deal is tomorrow. The apartment is being sold. Go wherever you want.”
Lilia stared at her husband, unable to believe what she had heard. Dmitry kept smiling, sipping his beer.
“You’re joking,” Lilia finally said.
“No, darling. I’m completely serious.” Dmitry pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and waved it in front of his wife’s face. “Here’s the contract. The buyer has been found, the price agreed, tomorrow we sign and that’s it. The money has already been transferred to the account.”
“Dmitry, the apartment is no longer yours. You signed the deed of gift.”
“I did,” her husband agreed. “But you forgot one detail. I managed to submit the documents before the changes were registered with Rosreestr. There’s a loophole. My lawyer explained it. So formally, the apartment is still mine. And I sold it.”
Lilia stood up.
“You sold nothing. The apartment has already been registered in my name for a week. Alexey Petrovich submitted the documents immediately after the deed of gift was signed.”
Dmitry laughed.
“Alexey Petrovich is a dinosaur. Slow and old. My lawyer is faster. We made it in time.”
“You didn’t,” Lilia said calmly. “You can check. Call your lawyer and ask exactly when the changes were registered.”
The confidence on Dmitry’s face faltered. He took out his phone and dialed.
“Igor, hi. Listen, check when the changes to the register were entered for my apartment,” Dmitry listened, his face gradually turning pale. “What do you mean, a week ago? You said we’d make it in time!”
Igor said something on the other end. Dmitry listened, gripping the phone tighter and tighter.
“Fine, we’ll sort it out tomorrow,” her husband snapped, then ended the call.
Lilia stood by the window, arms crossed.
“I told you. The apartment is mine.”
Dmitry jumped up from the sofa.
“Nothing’s over! The deal is tomorrow! The buyer is waiting!”
“There will be no deal. The system won’t register the sale. The owner has changed.”
“We’ll see!” Dmitry shouted and left the room.
Lilia heard him calling the realtor, explaining something, arguing. His voice was nervous and broke into shouting.
The next day, Dmitry left early in the morning. Lilia watched him go and returned to breakfast. About two hours later, Dmitry’s phone was ringing nonstop. Lilia did not answer, but she saw the names on the screen: Sergey, Igor, Mom.
At noon, Dmitry burst into the apartment. His face was red, his eyes darting.
“You set everything up!” her husband yelled.
Lilia was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.
“I didn’t set anything up. I simply took back what belongs to me.”
“The deal didn’t go through! Rosreestr refused! They said the owner had changed!”
“I warned you.”
Dmitry grabbed a cup from the table and hurled it at the wall. Shards scattered across the floor. Lilia did not even flinch.
“You’ll pay for this!” her husband hissed. “I’ll sue! I’ll say you forced me to sign the deed of gift by deception!”
“Go ahead,” Lilia answered calmly. “Alexey Petrovich handled everything properly. You signed voluntarily, in front of a witness. You have no chance.”
Dmitry paced around the kitchen, muttering something under his breath. Then he stopped abruptly and stared at his wife.
“And the buyer? He already made an advance payment! Twenty percent of the price! Where am I supposed to get the money to return it?”
“Not my problem,” Lilia finished her coffee and stood up. “You got yourself into this scam.”
“Scam?! This is my apartment!”
“It was. Now it’s mine.”
Lilia went into the bedroom and took a neat folder from the wardrobe. She returned to the kitchen and placed it on the table in front of her husband.
“Open it.”
Dmitry frowned, but opened it. Inside were documents: a fresh extract from Rosreestr, a copy of the notarized deed of gift, and a certificate of ownership registration.
“See?” Lilia pointed at the extract. “The sole owner is me. Registration date: one week ago. Everything is legal. Everything is correct.”
Dmitry flipped through the documents, his face growing paler.
“You… You planned all this…”
“I didn’t start it. You wanted to sell my apartment without my knowledge. I simply protected myself.”
Her husband closed the folder and threw it onto the floor. The documents scattered across the kitchen.
“Fine,” Dmitry said through his teeth. “You won. But I will never forgive you for this.”
“You don’t have to forgive me. Just leave.”
“Leave?” Dmitry laughed. “This is my apartment! I live here!”
“You lived here. Not anymore.”
Lilia turned and left the kitchen. She took out her phone and dialed a locksmith.
“Good afternoon. I need the locks in my apartment changed urgently. Today, if possible.”
The locksmith agreed to come in two hours. Lilia asked Dmitry to leave the apartment while the work was being done.
“I’m not going anywhere!” her husband declared.
“Then stay. But you won’t get any keys anyway.”
Dmitry tried to object, but Lilia did not listen. She went into the bathroom, locked herself in, and turned on the water. She needed to be alone and gather her thoughts.
When the locksmith arrived, Dmitry was still in the apartment. He was sitting on the sofa, watching television, pretending nothing was happening. The locksmith changed the locks and left Lilia two new keys.
“Here you are. And the receipt.”
Lilia paid him and saw him to the door. When she returned to the living room, Dmitry was looking at her with hatred.
“Are you seriously kicking me out?”
“Absolutely.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“To your mother. Or to friends. That’s not my concern.”
“This is illegal! I’m your husband!”
“You are my husband, but you are not the owner. The apartment is mine, and I decide who lives in it.”
Dmitry jumped up from the sofa.
“I’ll sue you for illegal eviction!”
“Go ahead,” Lilia shrugged. “Just keep in mind: the court will be on my side. The apartment was bought before marriage and is registered in my name. You have no rights to it.”
Her husband stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily. Then he turned sharply, went into the bedroom, and began packing his things. He threw clothes into a bag without looking.
Twenty minutes later, Dmitry came out of the bedroom with a stuffed bag.
“You’ll regret this,” he said as he passed Lilia.
“I doubt it.”
Dmitry slammed the door and left. Lilia watched him go, then locked the door with every lock. She leaned against the doorframe and exhaled. The tension of the past weeks finally released her.
Lilia returned to the kitchen, collected the scattered documents, and carefully put them back into the folder. She swept up the broken cup shards and threw them into the trash. Then she sat down at the table and poured herself tea.
It was raining outside. November was coming to an end; winter would arrive soon. Lilia watched the drops running down the glass and thought about what lay ahead. Divorce, most likely. Dmitry was not the kind of man who forgave. There would be claims, disputes, maybe even lawsuits.
But Lilia was ready. The apartment was hers, the documents were in order, and the lawyer was in touch. Everything was under control.
An hour later, the doorbell rang. Lilia looked through the peephole. Dmitry stood on the landing, trying to insert his key into the lock. The key would not go in. He tried again, then began knocking on the door.
“Lilya! Open up!”
Lilia did not answer. She went to the door, bent down, and slid an envelope under it. Inside was a copy of the Rosreestr extract and a short note on a sheet of paper.
Now everything is fair. Just like you wanted.
Dmitry picked up the envelope, opened it, and read it. Lilia heard him swear, then speak on the phone. His voice was angry, but no longer so confident.
“Mom, I need to spend the night at your place. Lilya kicked me out.”
Lilia moved away from the door and returned to the kitchen. She brewed herself more tea and took cookies from the refrigerator. She sat at the table and turned on music on her phone. Quiet, peaceful music.
The apartment was silent. No one was shouting, slamming doors, or plotting behind her back. Lilia was alone, and that feeling was incredibly precious.
The next day, Dmitry called.
“Lilya, let’s talk,” his voice was quiet, almost pleading.
“About what?”
“About us. About the apartment. Maybe we can come to some agreement?”
“There’s nothing to agree on. The apartment is mine, you have been evicted. That’s all.”
“But I’m your husband!”
“For now. I’ll be filing for divorce soon.”
Dmitry fell silent. Then he sighed heavily.
“Fine. If that’s what you want, divorce me. But I’ll demand compensation.”
“What compensation?”
“For living in your apartment, investing in repairs, and paying utilities.”
Lilia smirked.
“Dmitry, you didn’t invest in repairs. The repairs were done before you appeared. And we paid utilities fifty-fifty. There will be no compensation.”
“Then I’ll see you in court!”
“See you.”
Lilia ended the call. Dmitry tried calling several more times, but Lilia did not pick up. She added his number to the blacklist.
A week later, a letter arrived from Dmitry’s lawyer. Her husband was demanding compensation for residence, moral damages, and half the value of the apartment. Lilia took the letter to Alexey Petrovich.
“What do you think?” Lilia asked.
The lawyer read the letter and smirked.
“A waste of time. The apartment was bought before marriage and is registered in your name. Dmitry has no right to it. Compensation for living there? He was your husband and lived there legally. Moral damages? Ridiculous. We will easily defeat all these claims.”
“And if he insists?”
“Let him insist. The court is on your side. We have all the documents, and everything was done correctly. Dmitry is wasting money on a lawyer for nothing.”
Lilia calmed down. Alexey Petrovich prepared a response to the claims and sent it to Dmitry’s lawyer. Two weeks later, a new reply arrived: Dmitry was withdrawing his claims and agreeing to the divorce.
Lilia filed an application at the registry office. A month later, the marriage was dissolved. Dmitry did not come to the procedure; he sent a representative. Lilia signed the documents and received the divorce certificate.
Leaving the registry office, Lilia stopped on the steps and looked at the sky. December was cold but sunny. Snow crunched under her feet, and the air was fresh and clean.
Lilia took out her phone and called her friend.
“Sveta, hi. I’m free.”
“Divorced?”
“Mm-hmm. I just came out of the registry office.”
“Congratulations! How do you feel?”
“Great. For the first time in a long while—great.”
“Then let’s celebrate! Come over, we’ll mark the occasion!”
Lilia agreed. She got on a bus and went to her friend’s place. Sveta greeted her with champagne and cake.
“To your freedom!” her friend proclaimed, raising her glass.
“To freedom,” Lilia replied.
They drank, had a snack, and talked about the future. Lilia spoke about her plans: she wanted to take out a loan for renovations, change the furniture, and make the apartment truly hers.
“Do you want a new relationship?” Sveta asked.
“Not yet. I need time to recover. To understand what I want from life.”
“That’s right. There’s no rush.”
Lilia nodded. Her friend was right. There really was no rush. A whole life lay ahead: free, without lies and deception.
That evening, Lilia returned home. She opened the door and entered the apartment. It was quiet, clean, and peaceful. No one was shouting, making plans behind her back, or trying to take her home away.
Lilia went into the bedroom, changed clothes, and lay down on the bed. She stared at the ceiling and thought about how much everything had changed over the past months. She had trusted Dmitry, loved him, believed in him. And her husband had betrayed her, deceived her, and tried to steal the apartment.
But Lilia had been smarter. She had managed to re-register the documents and protect her property. Now everything was all right. The apartment belonged only to Lilia, and no one could claim it.
Lilia got up and went to the window. Outside, snow was falling, covering the city with a white blanket. Beautiful. Peaceful. Ahead lay winter, the New Year, a new life.
Lilia smiled. For the first time in a long while, her smile was sincere, without a shadow of doubt. Everything would be fine. It definitely would.
Dmitry tried a couple more times to contact her. He wrote messages, asked to meet, said he wanted to fix everything. But Lilia did not respond. She blocked numbers and deleted letters. That chapter was closed. Forever.
A month later, Lilia learned that Dmitry had left the city. He had moved to another region, to distant relatives. Apparently, he could not accept defeat and decided to start over somewhere else.
Lilia felt neither pity nor triumph. She simply took note of the information and continued living. She worked, met with friends, and renovated her apartment. Life was getting better, improving with each passing day.
Winter passed unnoticed. Spring came warm and sunny. Lilia stood on the balcony, looked at the budding trees, and thought how good it was that everything had ended exactly this way. The apartment had remained with her, the documents were in order, and life went on.
Dmitry had wanted to make Lilia homeless. But instead, he lost everything himself: the apartment, his wife, and his dignity. He was left with nothing.
And Lilia was left with what she had earned herself. With the apartment she had bought with her own money. With the life she had built without deceit or lies.
And that was the most important thing.