“You’re Living Alone in Three Rooms While My Son and His Children Have to Rent! Vacate the Apartment,” My Mother-in-Law Demanded
Veronika had planned to finish work early that Friday.
The entire week had been exhausting. Two urgent projects had collided, one client kept changing requirements, and her manager had developed the irritating habit of remembering “important corrections” only after six in the evening.
So by Friday morning, Veronika had decided to ignore everything except work.
By half past eleven, she had completed most of her tasks and was finally about to make tea when the intercom buzzed.
“Delivery.”
Veronika frowned.
She wasn’t expecting anything.
“What delivery?”
“Two folding children’s beds.”
“You have the wrong apartment.”
The courier checked the address.
Building entrance six. Apartment eighty-four.
The address was correct.
But Veronika had ordered no beds.
Then the courier read out the recipient’s name.
Denis Artyomovich Korneev.
Veronika’s expression changed immediately.
Denis was her husband Artyom’s younger brother.
“He doesn’t live here,” she said. “Take the order to whoever placed it.”
“The beds have already been paid for. I just need to leave them.”
“No. Don’t leave anything.”
She ended the conversation, but an unpleasant feeling remained.
A minute later, her phone rang.
Her mother-in-law, Nina Pavlovna.
Nina almost never called Veronika during working hours, which made the timing suspicious.
“Veronichka, did they bring the beds?”
No greeting.
No explanation.
“Not to me,” Veronika replied. “They brought them for Denis.”
“What difference does it make? It’s your address.”
Veronika stared at the phone.
“Nina Pavlovna, why did Denis order children’s beds to my apartment?”
There was a pause.
Then her mother-in-law sighed impatiently.
“Honestly, didn’t Artyom tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Denis is moving.”
“Where?”
“To your place.”
Veronika slowly sat down.
For several seconds, she wondered whether she had somehow forgotten an entire conversation with her husband.
She hadn’t.
No one had mentioned Denis.
No one had mentioned his wife Larisa.
No one had mentioned their children moving into her home.
“In what sense are they moving here?”
“In the normal sense. Denis, Larisa, and the kids will bring their things this weekend. The children need somewhere to sleep immediately, so the beds were ordered in advance.”
Nina spoke as though everything had already been settled.
“Who decided they were going to live in my apartment?”
“Oh, Veronika, don’t start. They’re having a difficult time.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Her mother-in-law finally explained.
Denis’s landlord had decided to sell the apartment his family was renting. They needed to move, and rental prices had risen sharply.
Then Nina said the sentence that made Veronika wonder whether she was hearing correctly.
“You’re living alone in three rooms while my son and his children have to rent! Vacate the apartment. Why do you need so much space?”
“Vacate it?”
“Yes. Rent yourself a studio nearby. Artyom is barely home anyway. He has company accommodation in another city. You’re alone, and Denis has two children.”
Veronika remained silent.
Then she asked carefully:
“So I should pay to rent myself a studio and give Denis my apartment?”
“Not give it to him. Let them stay temporarily.”
“For how long?”
“Until they get back on their feet.”
“And I’m supposed to move around instead?”
“You don’t have children. It’s easier for you.”
Veronika’s voice became cold.
“I’m thirty-seven years old. That doesn’t mean I can simply be moved somewhere because someone else has decided they need my home more.”
“Nobody is evicting you!”
“Then stop telling me to vacate my apartment.”
Nina became irritated and told her to accept the beds anyway.
Veronika refused.
The courier eventually left.
Only then did she call Artyom.
“Did you promise Denis our apartment?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Veronika explained everything.
The beds.
The planned move.
The studio she was apparently supposed to rent.
Artyom swore.
“They’re not moving anywhere.”
He told her exactly what had happened.
His mother had mentioned that Denis might struggle with the deposit on a new rental apartment.
Artyom had offered financial help.
That was all.
But Nina had transformed his offer into something completely different.
She told Denis that Artyom “understood the situation,” that he was “ready to help,” and that there was no point leaving a large apartment practically empty.
The apartment, however, wasn’t Artyom’s.
It belonged entirely to Veronika.
She had bought it four years before even meeting him.
At twenty-seven, she had already been earning well and saving aggressively. After her grandmother died, Veronika inherited a room in an old communal apartment. She sold it, combined that money with her savings, took out a small loan, and bought a three-bedroom apartment.
It wasn’t beautiful at first.
The bathroom had green tiles with dolphins.
The hallway had brown wallpaper decorated with gold diamonds.
One room was inexplicably painted bright peach.
Over the years, Veronika renovated everything.
By the time she met Artyom, the place had become exactly what she wanted.
He knew the full story.
So did his mother.
That made Nina’s behavior even stranger.
Later that evening, Artyom spoke with Denis.
The situation was worse than they expected.
Denis and Larisa had already rejected two suitable apartments because Nina had told them the problem was solved.
Larisa had started packing.
The children had been told they were moving to Uncle Artyom’s apartment.
They had even been promised separate rooms.
Nina had told different stories to different people.
To Denis, she claimed Artyom had agreed.
To Larisa, she said Veronika had been planning to live closer to work anyway.
To Veronika, she said nothing until the beds arrived.
Everyone knew only part of the story.
And Nina connected those pieces however she wanted.
The next morning, she arrived at Veronika’s apartment carrying a pie.
“Let’s talk like normal people.”
They sat in the kitchen.
At first, they discussed harmless things.
Then Nina returned to Denis.
“You understand how difficult this is for them.”
“I do. They need to find another rental apartment.”
“Is it really so difficult to help family?”
“I can help with money.”
“They don’t need money!”
“They need an apartment.”
“Yes!”
“Mine.”
Nina became visibly annoyed.
“You have three rooms. You sleep in one and work in another. The third is practically empty.”
“So?”
“Denis has a boy and a girl. They need separate rooms.”
“Then Denis needs a three-bedroom apartment.”
“There it is!”
Nina gestured around the kitchen triumphantly.
Veronika smiled.
“Nina Pavlovna, I have a solution.”
Her mother-in-law looked suspicious.
“You live alone in a two-bedroom apartment. Denis has two children. Why don’t you give him your apartment and rent yourself a studio?”
Nina froze.
“And where am I supposed to go?”
“A studio nearby.”
“Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“I’m sixty-three!”
“So?”
“I worked my whole life for that apartment! I bought out my ex-husband’s share! I denied myself things! I did renovations myself! I’m not leaving!”
Veronika nodded calmly.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do. You don’t want to leave a home you worked for.”
“Of course I don’t!”
“Neither do I.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Finally Nina said:
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“You have a husband. Artyom earns well. You can rent.”
“Denis earns money too.”
“He has children.”
“Then he should plan his budget so he can provide housing for them.”
Nina accused her of measuring everything in money.
Veronika disagreed.
“What I don’t understand is why my money and my apartment are treated as a family resource, while yours suddenly become private.”
The conversation ended badly.
Before leaving, Nina said:
“We’ll see what Artyom says when he gets home.”
“He’s coming tonight.”
The expression on Nina’s face revealed that she hadn’t known.
When Artyom arrived, Veronika told him about suggesting that Denis move into his mother’s apartment.
He laughed.
“How did she take it?”
“She didn’t like it.”
“Strange.”
“Especially the studio.”
The following day, Denis came over alone.
No wife.
No children.
No boxes.
“Can I apologize first?”
He admitted everything.
His mother had told him Artyom had agreed to let them stay.
She had also led him to believe the apartment belonged to Artyom.
Veronika showed him the purchase documents.
Denis looked stunned.
“You bought this before you even met him?”
“Four years before.”
He leaned back.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Not entirely,” Veronika replied. “But asking me would have helped.”
He didn’t argue.
He didn’t ask to stay for a month.
Not even a week.
Instead, he stood up and said:
“We’re not moving here. I’ll start searching again today.”
Artyom transferred him money for the deposit.
Within a week, Denis found another apartment.
It was smaller and farther away, but comfortable.
Later, he sent Artyom a photo of the family surrounded by boxes.
In one corner stood the folding beds that had started the entire conflict.
Veronika laughed.
“At least they were useful.”
“Most importantly, they’re not here,” Artyom replied.
Nina Pavlovna never fully accepted the outcome.
Months later, during a family dinner, she sighed about Denis’s expensive rent.
“It could have been solved more easily.”
Veronika calmly put down her fork.
“It could have.”
Nina brightened.
“See?”
“You could have given Denis your apartment.”
Her expression immediately hardened.
“There you go again!”
“No. I’m just checking whether your opinion has changed.”
Denis burst out laughing.
Even Artyom had to turn away to hide his smile.
Veronika had understood something important from the whole situation.
Nina’s logic sounded almost noble when it concerned someone else’s property.
The person with more space should share with the person who needed it more.
But the moment that principle was applied to Nina’s own apartment, everything changed.
Suddenly there were years of work.
Money invested.
Renovations.
Personal rights.
And the perfectly understandable desire to remain in one’s own home.
Veronika disagreed with none of those arguments.
In fact, she agreed with every one of them.
That was precisely why she wasn’t leaving her apartment either.
Because in the end, the issue had never really been about rooms, children, or rental prices.
It was simply very easy to decide what should happen to someone else’s property.
Especially when you had already convinced yourself that the owner needed it less.