Victoria struck the table with such force that the old oak top trembled dully, and the cooling cup of tea tipped, leaving a brown stain on the tablecloth.
She was even surprised at how much strength had built up inside her over half a year. Half a year she endured. Half a year she stayed silent. But that February morning, everything changed.
— Andrey, pack your things — she said quietly, but every word rang like steel. — Before I decide to get rid of the clutter in your house myself.
Andrey sat on the couch, slouched, like a schoolboy caught cheating. His appearance was disheveled: shirt unbuttoned, hair messy, dark circles under his eyes. He pressed his lips together, rubbed his nose, but did not move.
— Vika, why all the theatrics? — he mumbled, looking away. — We’re grown-ups. Let’s stay calm…
— Calm? — she laughed hoarsely. — After your mother called me “an outsider” again this morning, just because I… pay attention… wasn’t born on her street?
Or because you went on a “business trip” for the third time with that Sveta from accounting? Whom, of course, you “barely know.”
— You’re making things up again — Andrey stood, taking a step toward her. — How long will you keep looking for reasons to fight?
— Andrey — she jabbed a finger into his chest — I’d love to not look for anything. But when your mother is seen at the notary with fake documents ABOUT ME, even I start to get suspicious.
He froze, as if struck.
— You… you’re crazy — he exhaled. — What… what documents?
— The ones you two tried to use to take my apartment. MY apartment. Bought by me BEFORE the marriage. I checked everything at the notary. The signature is forged. Nice work, Andrey. Quality.
Andrey turned sharply, as if trying to hide his expression.
— Fine — he said over his shoulder. — I’ll come for my things tomorrow. And by the way, don’t you dare block my card — half of your wardrobe I paid for through her.
— Too late. The card is already blocked due to debts — Victoria smirked. — So take your “half” from the collectors.
He slammed the door, as if hoping the noise would scare her. But Victoria just took a deeper breath — the air felt icy.
When she was alone, the silence became sticky. For a moment, she wanted to sit down, bury her face in her hands, and just… disappear. But even that she did not allow herself.
The phone beeped.
“Larisa Ivanovna.”
Perfect. Exactly the voice she didn’t need to complete her happiness.
Victoria didn’t intend to pick up. But the call repeated. And again. On the fourth ring, she finally pressed “accept.”
— Well, Victoria — her mother-in-law began sweetly, as if inviting her for tea — satisfied? Left your husband out in the cold? Made the apartment yours? Do you even realize how you look from the outside?
— Larisa Ivanovna, I’m not in the mood to listen to your lectures. Andrey makes his own decisions. His things — his responsibility.
— Oh really? — the woman’s voice trembled with indignation. — Girl, do you even understand that the court isn’t your friendly chat? Adults work there. My son has excellent connections! And the lawyer isn’t from your little local office.
— Let him try — Victoria didn’t even attempt to hide her sarcasm. — And I, if necessary, will also find people. People who know how to handle forgeries.
— You’ll regret this. You don’t know who you’ve tangled with…
But she had already hung up. And for the first time in months — she turned her phone off completely.
Her hands were shaking. But it wasn’t fear. It was… rage. Such rage that everything inside was boiling.
She walked to the window. Beyond the glass — gray February, gloomy houses, and the chaotic footsteps of passersby. Far off, cars hummed. Life went on. Her own life had turned into a battlefield.
— No — Victoria whispered. — Am I supposed to regret? Go ahead and check.
She took out her phone, turned it on, and scrolled through contacts.
Yuri Petrovich.
The same lawyer who once pulled her out of a tricky situation at work. Back then, he sat beside her, chewing crackers, and said, “The main thing is not to let them push you around.”
She would need him again.
— Hello, Yuri Petrovich? This is Victoria. Yes… me again. A new story is starting. We need to meet. Urgently.
The café by the courthouse was gray, like February. The coffee in front of Victoria had become cold and bitter, like the last months of her marriage. Yuri Petrovich was arranging papers, carefully adjusting his cuffs — a nervous habit.
— Vika — he began — I’ll be honest: the case is complicated. They’ll fight to the last moment. But you have a chance.
— I didn’t come for chances — she interrupted. — I came because I’m tired of being convenient. If they want a war — there will be a war.
The phone rang again. Andrey.
Victoria closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and still picked up.
— Victoria Sergeyevna — he started, formally. — I suggest we settle everything without scandal. Half the apartment each — and that’s it.
— Andrey — she spoke evenly — your mother drew those documents like a schoolgirl in a craft class. You hid in other apartments on “business trips.” And now — half? Seriously?
— Vika, we are… were a family…
— Family? Family is when you don’t run to notaries trying to rewrite someone else’s property. Family is when you don’t flee to mom to complain that your wife “doesn’t look right.”
He fell silent. For a long time. Then quietly said:
— You… you’ve changed.
— I became myself, Andrey. Not who was convenient for you.
She hung up.
— Let him stay silent — Victoria exhaled.
Yuri Petrovich smirked.
— You’ve got strong nerves, Vika. I hope you’ll be like this in court too.
The courtroom was crowded. Larisa Ivanovna sat next to her son — like a shadow commander: chin raised, eyes sharp, lips pressed. Andrey tried to act as if he were the victim.
Her mother-in-law’s lawyer, a young man with an overly pressed suit, began confidently:
— Your Honor, my client invested significant funds into improving the property. He has a right to a share…
Victoria shook her head. “Invested…” Just hung a shelf — and already thinks of himself as an investor.
Then they pulled out the gift contract.
— Moreover, the mother of the plaintiff provided money for the apartment. This confirms Andrey’s right to a share.
Victoria was about to jump up, but Yuri Petrovich held her wrist.
— Your Honor — he began calmly — the signature on this contract is forged. The expert examination confirms this.
But that’s not all. There’s an audio recording where Larisa Ivanovna discusses speeding up registration with an acquaintance. Please attach it.
Larisa Ivanovna shrieked:
— Slander! I will complain!
— Certainly — nodded Yuri Petrovich. — Not in this court, but in the one that handles forgery cases.
The judge tapped her gavel. The tension was palpable.
Andrey sat pale as paper.
At the end of the hearing, Victoria felt a weight fall from her shoulders.
And the judge pronounced:
— The gift contract is invalid.
— The plaintiff’s claim for division of property is denied.
The apartment remains with the defendant, Victoria Sergeyevna…
Her breath caught. But she did not flinch.
February outside was still gray and cold, but the air felt different. Free.
Yuri Petrovich caught up with her.
— Congratulations — he said. — You did well. You held it together.
Victoria nodded.
— Thank you… without you…
— I just covered a little — he waved his hand. — You saved yourself.
Victoria remained alone on the steps. Cars passed, people rushed by. She just stood, feeling that life could start anew.
The phone vibrated again. Unknown number.
She answered.
— Victoria Sergeyevna? Konstantin here. We studied in the same group… back when we did accounting. I saw you in court today… and thought… maybe we could have coffee. Not romantically — just… to support you.
She smiled — truly, for the first time in months.
— Coffee? — she asked again. — Not bad.
— Then I’ll text. Promise, no pressure.
— Alright, Konstantin.
Maybe.
She hung up, inhaled deeply, put her hands in her coat pockets, and headed toward the subway. Not rushing. Not looking back.
Today she hadn’t just won in court. Today she had regained herself.
And that was worth every blow of fate.
From now on… another chapter begins. No more forged papers, no more maternal schemes, no more endless apologies. Only her. And freedom.
She endured.
And she moves forward.
