“Drop dead, you spoiled little city girl!” Stepan Ilyich roared as he towered over Oksana with his heavy body. The smell of cheap cigarettes clung to his clothes and breath. His face had turned crimson, and a vein bulged on his neck.
“My son picked you up and brought you into this house, and now you’re acting like you own the place! You even have money for expensive medicines! As if you were some kind of lady! And tomorrow you’re going to transfer the car into my name. Do you understand? I said: into my name!”
The next moment, Oksana’s hands were empty.
Stepan Ilyich had simply knocked the package containing the ampoules and vitamins she had just bought out of her hands. The glass bottles hit the floor, and several shattered.
For a few seconds, Oksana simply stared at the broken glass.
Three thousand rubles.
Three thousand rubles she had paid after a single exhausting shift, her legs trembling from fatigue.
For three weeks now, several fingers on her right hand had been going numb. As a nurse, she knew perfectly well that this was not something she could ignore. If the condition of her hand continued to deteriorate, sooner or later she would no longer be able to work.
But Stepan Ilyich did not care about any of that.
He cared about only two things: making everyone do what he said and getting the car.
Roman was standing beside the refrigerator.
He was thirty-four years old, Oksana’s husband, and he wore the expression of a man hoping that if he stayed silent long enough, someone else would solve the problem for him.
“Oksan…” he finally said. “Don’t argue with my father.”
Oksana slowly looked at him.
“Give him the Logan keys. He’s going fishing tomorrow night. His friends are waiting for him. You’re working the day shift anyway. You can take the bus.”
That was it.
That was Roman’s entire contribution to the fact that his father had just smashed his wife’s medicine.
Oksana did not answer.
She simply crouched down.
She picked up the dustpan and carefully gathered the shards of glass one by one.
“Are you listening?” Stepan Ilyich asked with satisfaction. “See? Now that’s how you should talk to me.”
He dropped heavily onto the little stool.
“Put the keys on the nightstand. And the papers too. I’ll stop by the repair shop tomorrow. Something’s making a knocking noise near the oil system. Romka knows nothing about machinery. You’ll pay for that too.”
Oksana stood up.
She emptied the broken glass into the trash and then wiped the floor with a damp cloth.
Every movement was calm.
Too calm.
“I’m going to bed,” she said.
Roman let out a relieved sigh.
He thought the scene was over.
He had no idea that it had only just begun.
In the bedroom, Oksana sat down on the edge of the bed.
The air was stuffy, but she did not open the window. Stepan Ilyich hated drafts, and whenever anyone opened a window even slightly, he immediately started shouting that they were trying to kill him.
Oksana looked down at her hand.
There was a mark from the compression band on her index finger.
A patch of hardened skin.
A tiny scar.
Exactly like the one that had formed on her soul over the years.
Two years earlier, they had bought the Renault Logan.
More precisely: Oksana had bought it.
She had taken out the loan.
She had worked night shifts.
She had gone in to cover weekend shifts.
She had even given IV treatments at home to earn a little extra money.
She had wanted only one thing: to stop traveling to work on a crowded, freezing bus.
She wanted a little warmth.
A little comfort.
And perhaps the feeling that at least something in her life belonged to her.
But the car remained hers for only a few weeks.
First Roman asked to borrow it.
Then his father.
Then Stepan Ilyich simply declared:
“A car like that shouldn’t be sitting unused while you’re working nights at the hospital.”
They added themselves to the insurance.
From that moment on, Oksana mostly saw her own car from the window.
The Logan slowly filled with cigarette smoke, fishing bait, and mud.
Then the fines started arriving.
Speeding.
Illegal parking.
Bus lane.
Crossing the stop line.
All in Oksana’s name.
And the money was simply deducted from her salary.
Over the previous eight months, she had paid 42,500 rubles for other people’s violations.
Forty-two thousand five hundred rubles.
Paid with her own blood pressure.
Her sleepless nights.
Her own life.
And now her father-in-law wanted the car transferred into his own name.
That was when Oksana understood:
It was not about the car.
It was about how much longer she was willing to let them use her.
At half past one in the morning, Oksana sat up in bed.
Roman was sleeping deeply beside her.
He always slept easily.
His hand did not hurt.
He did not have to worry about the bills.
He did not have to get up at six to catch the bus.
Oksana got dressed.
Silently, she went into the hallway.
She opened the bottom drawer of the shoe cabinet.
She reached into an old winter boot.
Her fingers touched cold metal.
The spare keys.
The car documents were there too.
She had hidden them a month earlier.
Back when Stepan Ilyich had first said:
“A car belongs in a man’s name.”
Oksana smiled.
There was nothing funny about it.
It was simply a decision.
She went outside.
The white Logan was parked in front of the neighboring house.
One of its wheels was on the grass.
Of course.
Stepan Ilyich had parked it.
Oksana pressed the remote.
The indicators flashed.
She got inside.
The seat had been pushed all the way back.
The steering wheel was sticky.
An empty cigarette pack lay on the rubber floor mat.
Oksana adjusted everything back to its proper position.
She started the engine.
And drove away.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into a guarded parking lot that operated around the clock.
“How long will you be leaving it?” the attendant asked.
“Until the end of the month.”
“That’s a long time.”
Oksana handed him a five-hundred-ruble note.
“And if anyone tries to take it, call the police.”
“Understood.”
She parked the car beneath a security camera.
Locked it.
Then took out her phone.
She opened the government services app.
Vehicles.
Insurance.
Terminate contract.
She entered the required information.
Pressed confirm.
Done.
From that moment on, neither Roman nor Stepan Ilyich could legally get behind the wheel.
Oksana then boarded the night bus.
And for the first time in months, she did not have a headache.
At half past five in the morning, she woke to a tremendous clattering noise.
Stepan Ilyich was getting ready to go fishing.
Metal lures rattled.
The ice auger fell to the floor.
The old man swore.
Then the front door slammed.
There was silence for four minutes.
Then the intercom rang.
Roman jumped up.
“Did Dad forget his keys again?”
He picked up the receiver.
“Yes?”
Stepan Ilyich’s scream exploded through the speaker so loudly that even Oksana could hear it clearly.
“THE CAR HAS BEEN STOLEN!”
Roman went pale.
“What?”
“THE LOGAN! IT’S GONE! CALL THE POLICE!”
Roman put down the receiver.
“Oksan! Get up! The car has been stolen!”
Oksana slowly sat up.
She put on her robe.
Went into the kitchen.
Turned on the kettle.
A minute later, Stepan Ilyich stormed in.
“Where are the keys?!”
Oksana made tea.
“What keys?”
“The car keys!”
“Oh, those?”
The man froze.
“You know where the car is?”
“Of course.”
Silence.
“Where is it?”
“In a guarded parking lot.”
Roman stared at her with his mouth open.
“You took it?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
Oksana put down her cup.
“Because it’s my car.”
Stepan Ilyich’s face turned red.
“You bitch! You hid it from me?!”
“I didn’t hide it. I put it somewhere safe.”
“Give me the keys!”
“No.”
“Immediately!”
“No.”
Roman stepped between them.
“Oksan, don’t do this. Dad is going fishing. His friends are waiting for him.”
Oksana looked at him.
“Then he can take the bus.”
The confidence disappeared from Roman’s face.
Oksana took out a piece of paper.
“This is my bank statement.”
She placed it on the table.
“42,500 rubles.”
Then she placed another sheet beside it.
“And this is the record of the traffic fines.”
“What does this have to do with you?” Stepan Ilyich grumbled.
“I paid them.”
“We’re family!”
“Exactly. That’s why I kept paying for everything.”
Oksana looked directly into Roman’s eyes.
“But it ends now.”
“What?”
“The car stays in the parking lot until I get all my money back.”
“Oksan…”
“Every last ruble.”
Stepan Ilyich clenched his fists.
“I paid for the fuel in that car!”
“I paid the loan.”
“I paid for repairs!”
“I bought it.”
“I use it!”
“That was the problem.”
The old man raised his hand.
But Oksana had already taken out her phone.
“Police? Yes. They are threatening me. They are trying to intimidate me with physical violence. I’m inside the apartment.”
Stepan Ilyich’s hand froze in midair.
Roman went pale.
“You really called the police?”
“Yes.”
“Oksan, he’s my father!”
“And I’m your wife.”
Roman had nothing to say.
Oksana continued:
“Now pack your things.”
“What?!”
“You and your father.”
“Where are we supposed to go?”
“Not my problem.”
Stepan Ilyich began shouting angrily.
“I’m registered here!”
“You’re not registered at this address.”
“I know the law!”
“Then you also know that the apartment belongs to me.”
The old man fell silent.
Oksana calmly took another sip of tea.
“The police will be here in ten minutes. Until then, you can decide whether you want to leave voluntarily or leave with them.”
Fifteen minutes later, two police officers were standing in the hallway.
Roman was carrying a sports bag.
Stepan Ilyich was carrying his fishing rods.
At the door, the man turned around one last time.
“Oksan… We’ll talk tonight, okay?”
The woman simply looked at him.
“You’ll calm down.”
Oksana nodded.
“Put the apartment keys on the nightstand.”
Roman stopped.
“Oksan…”
“I’m filing for divorce on Tuesday.”
The man’s expression changed.
“What did you say?”
“And I’m starting the process of settling the car loan.”
She closed the door.
Turned the key in the lock.
And for the first time in a long time, she felt no fear.
Twelve hours later, Stepan Ilyich called.
Oksana saw his name on the screen.
She did not answer.
She knew exactly what he wanted.
The keys.
The car.
Their old life.
He wanted everything to be the way it had been before.
But something had changed forever.
Oksana was no longer willing to go back to the place she had finally managed to escape.
Three weeks later, she sold the white Renault Logan.
The buyer thoroughly inspected the car and then paid her without a word.
Oksana used the money to pay off the entire loan.
She settled the outstanding fines.
And when she walked out of the bank, for the first time, she was not thinking about what other people would say.
She was thinking about what she would finally do with her own life.
The fingers of her right hand no longer felt numb.
Her headaches were gone.
Her blood pressure had stabilized too.
But the hardest realization still remained with her.
What hurt the most was not what Stepan Ilyich had done to her.
It was the fact that she had allowed it for years.
For years, she had paid other people’s bills.
Other people’s fines.
Other people’s comfort.
Other people’s lives.
And in the process, she had slowly given up her own.
Oksana took out her phone.
Opened the banking app.
Next to the loan account, it said:
0 rubles.
She smiled.
She had no car.
No husband.
No family “comfort.”
But for the first time, she had something no one could take away from her.
Her own decision.
Her own boundaries.
Her own life.
The bus arrived.
Oksana got on.
She sat by the window.
Another shift awaited her the next morning.
And now, for the first time in her life, she traveled to work in peace.
Not because everything was fine.
But because, finally, she was the one deciding what would happen next.
