Katya stood in the middle of her kitchen and felt as if a cold, heavy sphere were slowly rising from her stomach up to her throat.
In the past few days, the pregnancy sickness had become almost unbearable, but now it wasn’t hormones or nausea causing this feeling.
The words hanging in the air, the intentions hiding behind them, that strange, suffocating tension — that was what made her stomach clench.
— Katyusha, you’re a sensible girl — said Galina Petrovna, running her carefully manicured nail along the old oak parquet as if testing its quality. — Face reality. This isn’t an apartment, it’s a crypt.
Her mother-in-law sat at the table as if she were doing the chair, the kitchen, and the whole apartment a favor by being there at all. In front of her, tea steamed in a thin porcelain cup — the only thing in this place she approved of.
— Mom is right, Katya — Viktor spoke from the window, nervously tapping his fingers against the sill. — High ceilings are elegant, sure. But have you seen the heating bills?
And the wiring? This building is almost a hundred years old. It’s not an asset, it’s a burden.
Katya instinctively placed her hand on her stomach. It was still flat, almost unnoticeable, but to her it was already the most important thing in the world. She had inherited this apartment from her grandmother.
The air here always smelled of old books and calm. Last summer, she had sanded the floors herself, centimeter by centimeter, breathing in fine dust as it settled into her hair and skin, dreaming of children running here one day.
— The park is right across the street — she said quietly. — The clinic is nearby, the school…
— A park full of drunks! — Viktor snapped, turning sharply. There was a strange, fanatical gleam in his eyes that always frightened Katya. — Katya, stop clinging to the past!
I’m thinking about the family! About our future! About our child! Mom is giving us her plot in Sosny. Do you even know how much land costs there? A fortune! And she’s giving it to us for free!
— It’s a family property — Galina Petrovna nodded with dignity.
— I want my grandchild to grow up in fresh air, not in this concrete cage among all kinds of neighbors. We’ll build a real house there. A palace. But we need starting capital.
The plan was simple, almost too simple. Katya would sell her apartment — for about twelve million. That money would go into construction. Viktor would handle everything: choose the crew, organize the work, and by winter their new home would be ready.
— We’re a family, baby — Viktor said, wrapping his arms around her. His hands were warm, yet a cold shiver ran through Katya’s body. — You bring the money, I’ll handle the dirty work. That’s fair.
“Fair.”
The word echoed in Katya’s head. She wanted so badly to believe it. After all, family means everything is shared, right? You can’t be selfish when it’s about your child’s future.
— Okay — she said finally, quietly. — I’ll put the apartment up for sale.
Galina Petrovna smiled.
Wide, pleasant — but her eyes stayed cold.
The following weeks passed in a frantic rush. Viktor was constantly buried in plans, budgets, and catalogs. He talked only about concrete, steel, and huge windows. Katya, meanwhile, was saving. On everything.
During Saturday shopping, she stood for a long time in front of the dairy section. Her doctor recommended calcium and vitamins. The vitamins were expensive. The cottage cheese was on sale.
In her basket were expensive cuts of meat for Viktor and a special tea for her mother-in-law. For herself, only the cottage cheese.
At the checkout, the terminal beeped: “Insufficient funds.”
Katya’s face flushed hot. The line behind her murmured impatiently.
She called Viktor.
— Can you transfer me a little? I’ve run out of money.
The answer came instantly, in an energetic, enthusiastic voice.
“I put all the money into the concrete deposit! We’re building! Hang in there!”
Katya silently put the cottage cheese back. The meat too. The tea as well.
That evening she cooked. Viktor ate with appetite, toasted with wine, talked about plans. Katya stayed quiet.
— By the way, what about the paperwork? — she asked cautiously.
Viktor’s face tightened for a moment.
— Later. That’s not important right now.
That night, Katya didn’t sleep.
The next day, lunch at her mother-in-law’s. Galina proudly showed the plans to a friend.
— Here will be the winter garden. And here, my workshop.
Katya froze.
— But… we planned the nursery there…
Galina’s smile froze.
— My land — she said quietly. — My rules.
That was the first crack.
That evening, Katya requested the property record.
The document was clear: the land belonged solely to Galina.
No gift deed. No joint ownership.
Katya understood: if a house was built there, it wouldn’t be hers.
It would belong to her mother-in-law.
In the silence of the night, her husband’s phone lit up.
A message.
“Don’t push her too hard. Once she sells the apartment, she won’t be able to back out. She’s pregnant. She’ll have nowhere to go.”
Katya stared at the screen for a long time.
Something inside her finally broke.
In the following days, she played along.
She was kind. Obedient. Agreeable.
Then one morning, she suggested:
— Take out a loan. We can start construction in the meantime.
Viktor hesitated. Then agreed.
He took out three and a half million.
Construction began. Concrete poured into the ground.
Katya watched.
And waited.
On the day of the contract, she didn’t go.
She stayed home. Baked a pie.
When Viktor called, she answered calmly:
— I’m not selling the apartment.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
— What about the loan?! — Viktor finally shouted.
— I don’t know — Katya replied. — Ask your mother.
The conversation was short.
The marriage was over.
Katya walked to the window. The sunlight turned the old parquet golden.
The house stood.
Strong.
Like her.
And for the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel sick.
