The dinner I had spent all evening preparing sat untouched, its purpose evaporating the moment the words were spoken. I lifted my gaze slowly, meeting Andrei’s eyes across the kitchen table. This kitchen, which I had poured my heart into decorating over the past three years, suddenly felt like a suffocating, unfamiliar box.
Do you really think I would sell my apartment for you? My voice came out rough, dry, and unfamiliar, like thorns in my throat.
Andrei rubbed the bridge of his nose, a gesture that always surfaced when he was deeply unsettled. His shoulders drooped, and he couldn’t meet my eyes, letting his gaze wander across the table.
Galia, please try to understand. I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t about Vasily, he finally said. My son is in serious trouble.
I pushed my plate aside, my fingers trembling slightly. Vasily—his son from a previous marriage—was twenty-seven, impulsive, ambitious, and someone I had always kept at a polite distance. I tried for Andrei’s sake, but we had never been close.
What happened? I asked, though part of me already dreaded the answer.
He took out a big loan, Andrei explained, finally meeting my gaze. He wanted to start a business, but it failed. Now the collectors are threatening him. If he doesn’t pay within a month, they’ll file charges. He could end up in jail.
The silence that followed was broken only by the ticking of the old clock on the wall—my grandmother’s clock, the one I’d taken from my parents’ home after my mother passed away. I watched the second hand tick forward, hoping this would all dissolve into a bad dream.
How much does he need? I asked eventually.
Andrei named a number that knocked the air out of my lungs. It was more than we could possibly afford.
Vasily swears he’ll pay it all back, Andrei said quickly. But he needs help now. My apartment is tied up with a mortgage—I can’t sell it quickly. But yours… yours is fully yours. We could sell it, help him, and then buy something smaller. Just temporarily.
Temporarily. The word echoed in the air like a warning bell.
That’s my apartment, I said, a lump forming in my throat. My mother left it to me. It’s where I grew up.
I know, he said, reaching across the table. His touch was warm, but this time it brought no comfort. This is about Vasily’s freedom. About my son.
The way he said that made something twist inside me. I was his wife of five years, but in that moment, I was an outsider.
I need to think, I said, pulling my hand away.
Of course, he nodded. But time is short. We don’t have much of it.
Outside, the rain had started, tapping anxiously against the windowpanes. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling cold deep in my chest.
For Andrei, it was about loyalty, family, duty. For me, it felt like betrayal. To my mother, to the past, to myself. And I didn’t yet know which choice would hurt more—refusing to help the man I loved, or giving up the one place that had always been mine.
I walked into my apartment and paused. The floor creaked just as it always had, the floral wallpaper I’d picked with care felt like a quiet hug. I ran my hand along the bookshelf I’d assembled myself, saw the rocking chair that had belonged to my grandmother. Each object here was part of my story. And now I was being asked to erase it all—for Vasily.
My mother’s voice returned to me, clear and unyielding: The apartment is your protection. Never give it up. Men come and go, but your roof must remain.
At the time, I had laughed. It seemed so dated, so cautious. Andrei and I had just gotten married—what could possibly shake us?
My phone buzzed. Vasily.
Hello, Galia Sergeevna, he said, overly polite. Dad told me you’re thinking about the apartment.
Yes, I’m thinking, I replied. It’s not a simple decision.
Of course, he said quickly. I’ll pay it all back, I promise. It’s just a temporary mess, but if I don’t solve it now…
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
I understand, I said, even though I didn’t.
And one more thing, he added. Dad really values family. You know how he is.
That one landed hard. The implication was obvious—if I didn’t sell, I didn’t value them. I didn’t love Andrei enough.
I’ll think about it, I repeated and ended the call.
I sat on the couch and buried my face in my hands. The wedding ring on my finger suddenly felt like a shackle. Five years of mostly happy marriage. And now, this moment of reckoning.
That night, I called Lena.
Are you insane? she nearly shouted. Don’t sell it. Not for anything.
He says it’s temporary.
They always say that. My cousin did the same for her husband. Sold her one-bedroom place so he could start a business. Now she lives in a rundown rental with a child. He ran off to Thailand with a twenty-year-old.
Andrei isn’t like that, I said, but even I didn’t sound convinced.
They’re all not like that—until they are. Galia, if you sell that place, you risk everything. I’m telling you not just as a friend, but as a lawyer.
After we hung up, I stood on the balcony and watched the city lights flicker. So many windows, so many lives. Some whole, some broken.
Andrei came home late. I heard the door, the soft clatter of shoes. The kettle clicked. Then I felt his quiet presence in the hallway.
Not asleep? he asked.
I shook my head.
Sorry about earlier, he said, sitting beside me. He smelled of cold air and faint cigarette smoke, though he hadn’t smoked in years. I know I put you in a hard position.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. And for a moment, I wanted to give in. We had shared so much. Wasn’t that what marriage was—sharing burdens?
How much time do we have? I asked.
Two weeks. Maybe less. After that, legal trouble.
There’s no other way? A loan, maybe?
I tried, he said. It’s too much. Selling the apartment is the only quick solution.
He pulled me closer, his voice soft. We’ll get through this. It’s just temporary. What matters is us.
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
I’ll think more, I said.
That night, I didn’t sleep. Something didn’t sit right. This pressure, this urgency—it wasn’t just about helping Vasily. It was about testing the limits of what I was willing to give.
The next morning, I walked into the kitchen. Sunlight cast a harsh glow over the room. Andrei sat at the table with his phone. I looked at him and saw not my partner, but a stranger.
I’m not selling the apartment, I said before I could change my mind.
Andrei looked up. His expression turned quickly from hope to frustration.
What? We agreed on this.
I didn’t agree. I said I’d think. And I’ve thought. I can’t do it.
It’s just an apartment, Galia. But Vasily—he’s my son. Are you really that selfish?
The words hit like ice water. So that’s who I was now? Selfish?
And you’re not? I asked. You’re asking me to give up the one thing I truly own—for your grown son who got himself into this?
Andrei slammed the door and left.
Later, the doorbell rang. I thought it was him. But it was Vasily.
I understand you said no, he said. And I get it.
We sat down. He told me everything. The failed business. The lies. The desperation.
Dad always bailed me out, he admitted. Maybe it’s time to stop expecting that.
Then Andrei came home.
I’ve made a decision, he said. Galia’s right. Selling her apartment isn’t the answer.
I stared at him. Was this real?
What did you say?
I said she’s right. I panicked yesterday. But I walked for hours this morning, thinking. I can’t ask her to give up everything.
Dad, Vasily protested. You said there was no other option.
I was wrong. I talked to my boss—he’ll loan me some money against my car. It’s a start. We’ll borrow the rest. We’ll figure it out.
That’s a mountain of debt, Vasily muttered.
Then you’ll help repay it, Andrei said. You’ll work. No more shortcuts.
But—
No buts. This is the only way. And Galia—she’s my wife. I won’t sacrifice our life for your mistakes.
I looked at him, still unsure.
Do you mean it?
I do, he said, holding my hands. Forgive me. I almost lost something precious. You. Us.
Did it really take nearly losing me to realize that?
Yes. I’ve spent so long trying to be the perfect father. But I forgot what it means to be a good husband.
How do I know this won’t happen again?
It won’t. Not like this. I told Vasily—no more pressure. No more guilt. You’re not the enemy. You’re not an ATM.
Andrei pulled me close. I saw something new in him—regret, maybe even growth.
Give me a chance to show you, he said.
I didn’t answer right away. But something inside me softened.
Okay, I said. On one condition.
Anything.
No more secrets. No more one-sided decisions. And Vasily has to understand—I’m not the villain here.
He’ll understand, Andrei promised.
A month later, Lena and I met for coffee.
So? she asked. Did you survive?
Somehow, yes, I smiled. Andrei took out a loan. Sold the car. Vasily got a job. Not great, but it’s something.
You believe him?
I do. That moment changed something in him. He stopped being just a dad. He remembered he was a husband, too.
Lena rolled her eyes.
Men change like the weather.
Maybe. But I feel like I didn’t just keep the apartment—I kept my self-respect.
And Vasily?
We’re getting there. He even asked me for job advice.
So miracles do exist?
Not miracles. Just hard choices. And sometimes, the brink shows you what really matters.
I went home to my apartment—my safe place. Andrei was waiting. Our marriage hadn’t gone back to what it was. It had become something stronger. More honest.
As I climbed the stairs, I heard my mother’s words again: The apartment is your protection.
She was right. But not just because it was a home. Because it was mine. And because I found the strength to protect it. And myself.