In the hallway, unfamiliar shoes were lined up.They were large, worn out, with dried mud stuck into their ridged soles, now crumbling in tiny grains onto the light-colored carpet, as if they were already claiming the apartment with their very presence.
Kszénia froze in the doorway. Her hand was still on her scarf, but she didn’t move forward. It was as if even the air inside had changed: the familiar scent of vanilla cleanliness and fresh linens had vanished, replaced by a heavy, disturbing smell — stale food, sweaty clothes, and an overly strong, sharp floral perfume that didn’t mask anything, only overwhelmed.
From the kitchen came loud chewing and the monotonous noise of a television left on.— You’re back — a voice said.Antonina Sergeyevna stepped out from behind the corner, as if she had already been living there for a long time. She wiped her hands on an embroidered kitchen towel
— the one Kszénia only dared to use on special occasions. The robe looked чуж foreign on her, and the slippers even more so: Maksim’s old gift, once bought for Kszénia.Behind her, Stas slowly stepped forward as well. His hair was greasy and stuck to the back of his neck, and in his hand he held a half-eaten pastry
— the very same ones Kszénia had baked for her daughter the day before.— What… what are you doing here? — Kszénia asked, but her voice was barely more than a whisper.Antonina put her hands on her hips.— Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t know.
Maksim is gone, there’s been no news for half a year. This used to be his apartment. And what was his is ours too. Now it’s our turn.Stas grinned.— We’ll settle in. You’ll cook. Simple.Kszénia stumbled back toward the wall.Six months ago, everything had been different.
Maksim — the golden-handed carpenter, the one who brought furniture back to life — had fallen into debt because of a single bad deal. He had said: “just one last job, and everything will be fine.” But his partner disappeared, the machines disappeared, and in the end Maksim went to work as an engineer on a fishing vessel.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said.Then the calls became rare.Finally, they stopped.The ship got caught in a storm. And Maksim’s name became nothing but absence.— This is a shared apartment — Kszénia said suddenly, as if clinging to her own voice. — I pay the mortgage. This isn’t…
— Who paid the initial deposit? — Antonina cut her off sharply. — Who put it down in the beginning?Stas laughed from the side.— Enough already. We’re staying anyway. And the kid better not get in the way when I’m streaming.
At that moment, the door opened slightly.Varya was standing there.Kszénia immediately stepped in front of her, as if her body itself could protect her.— Enough — she said quietly. — I’m calling the police.Antonina smiled.— Go ahead. We’ll see who has the last laugh.
And from that moment on, the apartment was no longer a home.The days blurred together. The TV was never turned down. Nights were filled with shouting, door slams, and unfamiliar footsteps. Varya spoke less and less, and became more and more afraid.
In the end, the police only shrugged.— A civil matter. Sue them.Then one evening Varya ran to her mother in tears, holding a crushed wooden box.— Stas broke it…And something inside Kszénia finally broke too.The next morning, Timur arrived.
Not alone.Huge, grim men entered the apartment, carrying tools and papers.— We are tenants — they said calmly.And the “renovation” began.Drilling. Noise. Dust. Water shutoffs. Power outages.The apartment they wanted to take became unlivable.
Stas was furious at first.Then nervous.Then he disappeared.Antonina still tried to fight, screaming, threatening — but in the end she packed her things too.— You’ll regret this! — she screamed from the doorway.Then there was silence.Not the frightening kind.
But the real kind.When they moved back in, the apartment was different.Clean. Empty. Theirs.In the evening, Timur arrived with a pie.— May I come in?The girl received a small box from him.She opened it.Inside was a carved wooden castle. Intricate, carefully crafted, as if an entire world had been built into it.
The note said only:“Your city is ready. Be brave. Your father is always with you.”Varya began to cry.Not from fear.But for the first time — from relief.A year passed.Kszénia was promoted at the print shop. Varya learned wood carving and started smiling again.
Life slowly, carefully, but surely rebuilt itself.One evening Timur sat down beside her in silence.He didn’t say much.He only placed his hand over Kszénia’s.And this time, Kszénia didn’t pull away.
