Aurora stood by the window, watching Yevgeny carry in the last box. Leaving his mother’s place hadn’t been easy for him, but Aurora could see it in his eyes—he truly wanted a fresh start. The two-bedroom apartment felt huge for just the two of them, even though the mortgage payment landing every month was a constant reminder of how heavy the commitment was.
“That’s everything,” Yevgeny breathed out, lowering the box onto the living-room floor. “Now we’re finally together.”
“Yeah,” Aurora said with a smile as she walked over. “At least your mom will stop complaining that you hardly ever sleep at home.”
“She just worries,” Yevgeny shrugged, hugging his fiancée. “You know I’m her only son.”
Aurora nodded and forced herself not to think about how her future mother-in-law still called her “that girl.” The wedding was ahead, and Aurora wanted to believe that once it happened, things would smooth out.
The wedding itself was simple, but beautiful. The white dress, the rings, the vows—everything looked perfect. Aurora was glowing when Yevgeny slipped the ring onto her finger. Guests applauded, and even Valentina Petrovna teared up. It felt like a happy life was finally beginning.
But routine returned them to reality fast. Every month Aurora made the mortgage transfer. The payment swallowed most of her salary, and she had to save on everything. Yevgeny never once offered to contribute. Aurora didn’t ask, either—the apartment had been in her name long before she ever met him. She felt it wouldn’t be right to shift that burden onto her husband.
Five years passed in a blur. Five years of payments, five years of tightening her belt, five years of waiting for the day the debt would finally be gone. And at last, the day arrived.
“That’s it,” Aurora exhaled, staring at her phone. “The final payment went through. The apartment is fully paid off.”
“Really?” Yevgeny looked away from the TV. “Congrats! We should celebrate!”
Aurora put together a special dinner. The table was crowded with appetizers, a duck was slowly roasting in the oven, and sauce bubbled on the stove. Even her mother-in-law, Valentina Petrovna, came over—rare for her to agree to visit their home.
“What a feast!” Valentina Petrovna said, settling into her chair. “Though I would’ve cooked the duck differently. Zhenya likes it with apples, not oranges.”
“Mom, it tastes great,” Yevgeny cut in.
“To the mortgage finally being finished!” Aurora announced, lifting her glass.
They clinked glasses. Aurora was radiant. At last they could live without constantly thinking about payments. Maybe they could even take that seaside trip they’d been dreaming about for so long.
“Well done, Aurora,” Valentina Petrovna nodded. “Still, it’s odd that a woman had to carry a burden like that alone. In my day, men provided for the family.”
Yevgeny stayed silent, carving the duck. Aurora decided not to push back either. A celebration was a celebration—no need to ruin it by turning it into an argument.
Two months after that memorable dinner, Aurora began to notice her husband changing. Yevgeny grew colder, hugged her less, and barely kissed her goodbye before work. And most of all—he kept hiding behind his mother’s opinions.
“Mom says borscht should be made on a beef bone,” he commented at lunch. “Yours turns out kind of watery.”
“I’ve always cooked it like this,” Aurora said, surprised. “You used to like it.”
“Mom just understands cooking better,” Yevgeny shrugged.
A week later, the criticism expanded.
“Mom says decent women don’t walk around in sweatpants,” Yevgeny declared, eyeing Aurora’s comfy home clothes. “Even at home you should look feminine.”
“Zhenya, this is my home,” Aurora reminded him. “I’ll wear what’s comfortable.”
“Our home,” he corrected, and there was an odd edge in his voice.
Two more weeks passed, and then the apartment itself became the topic.
“Mom says it’s unfair when the apartment is only in the wife’s name,” Yevgeny said at dinner. “We’re a family. There should be equality.”
Aurora froze with her fork in her hand. A knot of anxiety tightened inside her.
“Zhenya, I paid the mortgage alone for five years,” she said slowly. “I took out the loan before we even met. I paid it myself.”
“But we’re husband and wife!” Yevgeny snapped. “In marriage everything is shared! That’s the whole basis of equal rights! Modern relationships are built on trust and partnership!”
Aurora finished her dinner in silence. His words sounded polished, but behind them she could hear Valentina Petrovna speaking through him.
The months dragged on, exhausting and tense. The pressure grew. Now it wasn’t just Yevgeny—Valentina Petrovna brought up the apartment every single time they met.
“Aurora, sweetheart,” her mother-in-law would begin in a syrupy voice, “you understand Zhenya is the head of the family. How does it look? A man living in his wife’s apartment!”
“Valentina Petrovna, Yevgeny and I are married,” Aurora would answer, worn out. “What does it matter whose name it’s in?”
“It matters enormously!” the older woman would fling up her hands. “A man has to be the master of the house! That’s the foundation of a strong marriage!”
During these talks, Yevgeny pretended to read the news on his phone. Aurora understood—he was fully on his mother’s side.
Her irritation piled up day after day. She couldn’t listen to the lectures calmly anymore. Every time the subject came up, she felt trapped and powerless. She wanted to scream that she had paid off a massive loan on her own, without anyone helping. But the words got stuck in her throat.
And then one evening, Yevgeny greeted her after work with unusual ceremony. Candles were lit on the table, soft music drifted from the speakers, and the air smelled of her favorite lilies.
“What’s the occasion?” Aurora asked, taking off her coat.
“I just want to talk,” Yevgeny said with a mysterious smile. “Sit down—I made your favorite.”
Aurora sat. Her heart beat faster—had he finally changed his mind? Did he understand how much his constant remarks were hurting her? She looked at him with cautious hope as he poured drinks into their glasses.
“To us,” he said, raising his glass.
They drank. Then Yevgeny reached into a drawer, pulled out a folder, and placed it in front of Aurora.
“What’s that?” she asked, instantly wary.
“Open it,” he said softly.
Aurora unfolded the papers. A gift deed. In Yevgeny’s name. Her apartment.
“Are you out of your mind?” Aurora’s voice shook.
“Aurora, listen,” Yevgeny began in the patient tone adults use to explain something to children. “We’re a family. In a family, everything has to be fair. I’m your husband—I’m entitled to half the property.”
“Half?” Aurora stared at the papers. “This says the whole apartment!”
“Oh, that’s just paperwork,” Yevgeny brushed it off. “It’s simply easier to register it this way. We’re living together anyway.”
Aurora pushed back her chair and stood up. Her legs trembled with outrage.
“Yevgeny… do you seriously think I’m going to sign this?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” he frowned. “If you trust me, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I worked myself to the bone for five years to pay that mortgage!” Aurora’s voice cracked. “And you didn’t put in a single penny!”
Everything inside her boiled with the sheer injustice of it. She remembered those evenings she came home barely able to stand after extra shifts. She remembered denying herself everything just to make the next payment. And during all that time, Yevgeny calmly spent his salary on new gadgets and gifts for his mother.
“Well you’re the one who took out the mortgage!” Yevgeny exploded. “That was your choice!”
“Exactly!” Aurora snapped. “My choice!” She grabbed the deed. “And the apartment stays mine!”
She tossed the papers into the trash. Yevgeny sprang up, his face twisted with anger.
“Either you sign the apartment over to me, or we’re getting divorced!” he shouted.
The words were so sharp, so cruel, Aurora went momentarily numb. Was this really the man she’d loved? The man she’d lived with for five years? The one who’d sworn eternal love at the altar?
“Divorce?” Aurora stared at him. “You’re threatening me with divorce?”
“This isn’t a threat!” Yevgeny snatched a plate from the table. “It’s an ultimatum!”
He hurled it at the wall. It shattered, spraying shards everywhere. Aurora jumped back.
Fear flashed through her—then turned into fury. How dare he? The romantic dinner had become a battlefield, and the candlelight now illuminated not an affectionate face, but the furious mask of a stranger she no longer recognized.
“Stop it!” she cried. “Have you lost your mind?”
“You’re the one who’s lost it!” Yevgeny swept the glasses off the table. “Greedy selfish woman! Mom was right about you!”
“Of course—your mom!” Aurora was nearly shaking with rage. “Your mom is always right! Who wouldn’t want to grab a whole apartment for her precious son without lifting a finger?”
Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of him. She looked at the broken dishes and understood their marriage had shattered the same way—into a thousand sharp pieces that would never fit together again.
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother!”
“And you don’t you dare demand my apartment!” Aurora pointed at the door. “Get out! Go back to your mother!”
“This isn’t over!” Yevgeny yanked on his jacket. “I’ll take what belongs to me!”
“Nothing here belongs to you!” Aurora shouted after him. “It never did!”
The door slammed so hard the windows rattled. Aurora was left alone among the shards and the ruined dinner. Her knees gave out and she sank onto the floor. Only then did the tears finally break through. Five years of marriage had fallen apart as easily as a plate against a wall.
The divorce dragged on for what felt like forever. Yevgeny and his mother hired a lawyer and tried to prove they were entitled to half the apartment. They claimed Yevgeny had paid for renovations, bought furniture, appliances. But Aurora had kept every receipt and every bank statement.
“All mortgage payments were made from my account,” Aurora said calmly in court. “Here are the statements for the full five years.”
“But they lived as spouses!” Valentina Petrovna protested. “My son has rights!”
“Your son didn’t contribute a single ruble toward the purchase,” Aurora’s lawyer cut in. “The apartment was acquired before the marriage and paid off entirely by my client.”
The judge studied the documents. Yevgeny sat beside his mother, fists clenched. Aurora tried not to look their way.
The ruling was clear: the apartment remained Aurora’s sole property. Yevgeny had no rights to it.
“This is unfair!” Valentina Petrovna screamed as they left the courtroom. “We’ll fight this!”
But there was nothing left to fight for. The law was on Aurora’s side. She won. She protected what she had earned through her own work.
That evening Aurora sat in her apartment—truly hers now, without question. The silence didn’t feel heavy anymore. It was the silence of freedom. She poured herself tea and opened the window. Fresh air filled the room.
A new life was beginning. Without manipulation. Without pressure. Without counterfeit love.
Aurora smiled.
She had made it.
