“Pack your things and get out of my son’s apartment!”
“Pack your things and get out of my son’s apartment!”
Raisa Nikolaevna angrily kicked the large sports bag lying beside the front door. Her eyes flashed with fury as she looked around the apartment, as if she already considered it her own.
Ksenia had just finished mopping the floor. She was still holding the damp mop when her mother-in-law walked in without knocking or asking permission.
“Good evening, Raisa Nikolaevna. Would you mind taking off your shoes? I just cleaned the floor.”
“As if I would! I’m not going to walk around barefoot because of you!”
The older woman deliberately stomped across the freshly washed floor, leaving muddy footprints on the light-colored tiles. Then she sat down in the kitchen as though she had always been the mistress of the house.
“Oleg moved out two weeks ago, and you’re still living here? By tomorrow you’ll be gone. And you’ll leave the keys on the table!”
Ksenia quietly placed the mop beside the sink.
“Would you like some tea?”
“I didn’t come here for tea! I came to protect my son! He worked for years to pay for this apartment. He paid the mortgage, worked overtime, stayed up nights—and you threw him out of his own home!”
The young woman smiled bitterly.
Five years earlier, when they got married, her parents had sold their country cottage. They gave her the money, and together with her own savings, she bought the apartment outright—without a mortgage, paying in cash. At the time, Oleg was just starting his career.
He had asked only one thing.
“Don’t tell my mother the apartment belongs to you. She’ll laugh at me and call me a kept husband.”
Ksenia hadn’t cared what her mother-in-law thought, so she agreed.
Now she realized what a terrible mistake that had been.
“Raisa Nikolaevna,” she said calmly, “Oleg has been sleeping in your guest room for the past two weeks. Where exactly do you think I should go?”
“That’s not my problem! Go wherever you want!”
The older woman’s voice grew louder.
“You stayed home with the child for three years! My son supported both of you! He even paid for this beautiful kitchen!”
“Did he really tell you that?”
“Of course he did! A decent wife doesn’t throw her husband out just because he got drunk once!”
Ksenia laughed softly.
“So that’s what he told you?”
No one answered.
She took out her phone and placed it on the table.
“Call Oleg. Let’s clear everything up.”
“Oh, I will!”
Raisa triumphantly dialed her son’s number.
After a few rings, he answered.
“Hi, Mom.”
Music played in the background. People were laughing and talking. He didn’t sound anything like a man heartbroken over losing his marriage.
“Oleg! I’m at your apartment! This woman refuses to leave! Tell her to hand over the keys immediately!”
A long silence followed.
“Mom… what are you doing there?”
“I’m setting things right! This is your apartment!”
Ksenia leaned closer to the phone.
“Hi, Oleg. Your mother says you’ve been paying the mortgage for five years and that this apartment belongs to you. Would you like to confirm that yourself?”
Another long silence.
“Mom… please just go home.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you throw this woman out!”
Oleg let out a deep sigh.
“Mom… the apartment isn’t mine.”
Raisa’s face turned pale.
“What?”
“It belongs to Ksenia. She bought it before we got married. Her parents paid for it. I… I’ve never owned it.”
The kitchen fell into complete silence.
“But… the mortgage… the paperwork… I saw the documents…”
“You saw the paperwork for my car loan.”
The phone nearly slipped from Raisa’s hand.
“Why did you lie to me?”
“Because I was ashamed to tell you the truth.”
The call ended.
The older woman sat frozen.
In a single minute, the image she had built of her son over the years collapsed. The successful provider, the man who had built a home for his family, disappeared. In his place stood a man trapped by his own lies.
Ksenia finally broke the silence.
“There’s one more thing you should know.”
Raisa slowly looked up.
“I didn’t ask Oleg to leave because he got drunk.”
The older woman frowned.
“For the past six months, he’s been having an affair with one of his coworkers. I found their messages by accident. I didn’t scream or make a scene. I simply packed his belongings and asked him to leave.”
Raisa lowered her head.
For the first time, she had nothing left to say in her son’s defense.
Slowly, she stood up, picked up her handbag, and walked toward the hallway.
She stopped at the front door.
Her eyes fell on the muddy footprints she had left across the freshly cleaned floor.
Deep shame spread across her face.
“Take Oleg’s sports bag with you,” Ksenia said quietly. “I’ve been stepping around it for two weeks.”
Without saying a word, Raisa picked up the heavy bag. She grabbed his toolbox as well, then slowly stepped into the hallway.
The door closed softly behind her.
Two days later, Ksenia called a locksmith and had all the locks changed.
She received only one message from Oleg:
**“Please pack up the rest of my shirts.”**
That was all.
Five years of marriage ended in a few short words.
Raisa Nikolaevna had no choice but to take her grown son back into her home. Once again, she cooked for him, did his laundry, and listened every day as he complained about how unfair life had been to him.
Only now, she knew the truth.
Ksenia hadn’t taken her son’s home away from him.
Her son had lost everything truly valuable because of his own lies.
