— Mom, don’t come here. He threw us out.
Natalia spoke quietly, but behind her the roar of the railway station, the echo of loudspeakers, and Sonya’s muffled sobs drowned out everything. Anna Petrovna stopped in the middle of the platform, her fingers clenched tightly around a box of gifts.
— Threw you out where?
— Out of the apartment. He said we should pack up and get out before his relatives arrive. Zinaida Konstantinovna ordered it. We’re sitting with the kids in the station café… I don’t know what to do.
It was nine in the evening. December thirty-first. Minus fifteen degrees outside.
— Send me the address. Wait there.
Anna Petrovna turned around and walked toward the exit with firm steps.
Forty years in the financial department had taught her how not to show emotions. But now her hands were shaking so badly that the gift box nearly slipped from her grip.
Sergey opened the door. His face was flushed, pleased, a glass of sparkling wine in his hand. The apartment smelled of fried food and alcohol. About six people sat at the table, with Zinaida Konstantinovna at the head, sitting straight as a rod.
— Oh, Anna Petrovna! Come in, come in, why are you standing in the doorway?
Anna Petrovna stepped inside. She scanned the room. The table was set, salads lined up, glasses full. Guests laughing. Only Natalia was missing. And the grandchildren.
— Where is Natalia?
— Ah… — Sergey waved his hand with a grin. — I threw her out with the kids. My mother can’t stand them. Let her stay with you for a while, cool off.
He said it loudly, defiantly, turning toward the table. Someone giggled. Zinaida Konstantinovna nodded without looking up from her plate.
— That’s right. She should have been put in her place long ago. She’s completely out of line.
Anna Petrovna set the box on the floor. Slowly took off her shoes. Straightened up.
No one was watching — the guests were eating, chatting. She walked up behind Zinaida Konstantinovna, grabbed her by the shoulder, turned her around, and slapped her across the face with all her strength.
The sound was so loud that everyone went silent.
Zinaida Konstantinovna fell off the chair, knocking over a bowl of salad. Sergey jumped up, but Anna Petrovna was faster — she turned and slapped him across the cheek with her palm as well.
He bent forward, grabbed the table, the table tilted. The sparkling wine spilled onto the floor, plates clattered down after it.
Anna Petrovna grabbed Zinaida Konstantinovna by the collar and dragged her toward the door. The woman screamed, but Anna Petrovna held tight and shoved her out into the stairwell. Sergey stumbled out after his mother.
Anna Petrovna turned to the guests. They sat motionless, mouths open.
— Leave. Now.
No one objected.
She picked up her daughter and grandchildren from the station. Back in the emptied apartment, Natalia silently stared at the wreckage — the overturned table, shards, stains on the walls.
— Mom… what happens now?
— Nothing will happen. You’ll live peacefully.
Anna Petrovna took out the box of gifts. Vanya and Sonya tore the wrapping open right on the floor, among wet rags. They laughed for the first time that evening. At midnight the four of them welcomed the New Year in the kitchen.
Natalia cried quietly, wiping her eyes with her palm. The children lit sparklers and made wishes.
That night Sergey called. His voice trembled with rage.
— Do you even know what you’ve done? My mother has a concussion!
— I’ll sue you! You’ll pay for this!
Anna Petrovna put the phone on speaker. Natalia froze with a cup in her hands.
— Go ahead. I’ll file a countersuit — you threw your wife and two small children out into the freezing cold. On December thirty-first. Child services will appreciate that.
And the neighbors will also tell how your mother terrorized my daughter for three years.
— What neighbors? Who will believe you, you old—
— The neighbors who heard Zinaida Konstantinovna screaming at Natalia. The ones who saw her coming in with your keys when my daughter wasn’t home.
The stairwell cameras recorded everything — including how you pushed them out with their bags. And the apartment is jointly owned. So go on, Sergey. Let’s see who wins.
There was silence for a few seconds. Then he hung up.
The lawyer listened to them quietly, took notes, then looked at Natalia.
— Do you want a divorce?
Natalia clenched her hands until her fingers turned white. She was silent. Anna Petrovna placed her palm on her shoulder.
— Natasha. He threw you and the kids out onto the street on New Year’s Eve. Do you really think this will change?
Her daughter lifted her head. There was something new in her eyes — not fear, not hope. Exhaustion.
— I want a divorce.
The lawyer nodded and took out the forms.
Sergey tried to prove assault. He brought Zinaida Konstantinovna with a black eye, but the examination showed it was fresh, inflicted after the holidays.
The guests Anna Petrovna had thrown out suddenly “remembered nothing.” But the neighbors willingly spoke about the fights, the shouting, how the children cried in the stairwell. About how the mother-in-law barged in with keys.
When the judge announced the divorce, Natalia stood up and left the courtroom without looking back.
They found a new apartment quickly. A small one-room place in a quiet area, on the second floor. Natalia sold her share and bought it with her own money. Anna Petrovna moved into the neighboring building — just in case.
The children adjusted slowly. Vanya became withdrawn, Sonya moody. But in the evenings they went to their grandmother’s place, and she read to them. Without questions. Without unnecessary words.
One evening Natalia came over for water. Anna Petrovna was standing by the window, looking into the darkness.
— Mom… do you regret it? Interfering. Hitting them.
Anna Petrovna turned around. Her face was calm, without a trace of doubt.
— For forty years I solved other people’s conflicts on paper, peacefully, by the rules. And then I saw my daughter and grandchildren thrown out into the freezing cold and understood — there are things that can’t be solved with words.
She paused.
— I only regret not doing it sooner.
Natalia stepped closer and hugged her. Tightly, like in childhood.
The next New Year they celebrated together — Anna Petrovna, Natalia, and the children. A small table, few gifts. But when they lit the sparklers, Sonya laughed, and Vanya wrapped his arms around his grandmother’s shoulders.
— Thank you for taking us away back then.
Anna Petrovna silently kissed the top of his head. Natalia watched them and smiled — for the first time in many years without fear that someone would walk in and ruin everything.
It was the best New Year of her life.
