Julia’s Flat – And No Relatives
Julia was washing dishes when the doorbell rang. Standing on the doorstep, like a bolt from the blue, was her mother-in-law.
“Hello, Julia darling,” said Nellie Yurievna with false sweetness. “I thought I’d pop by for a visit. Just dropping in!”
Julia invited her into the kitchen, put the kettle on, and called out to her husband:
“Victor, your mum’s here!”
A few minutes later, the whole family was sitting around the table. The mother-in-law stirred sugar into her tea, eyeing her daughter-in-law with a sharp look Julia had long learned to recognise—the telltale sign of brewing manipulation.
“You know, Vitya,” Nellie began, “Dima’s asked little Helen to move in with him. Can you imagine? Before the wedding!”
“Well, he’s in for it,” Victor smirked. “Our Helen will sort him out. He won’t have a peaceful life, that’s for sure!”
“You’re wrong!” Nellie retorted proudly. “Helen’s different. She’s modest, clever—not like some people…”
Julia caught the glance. The barb was, as always, aimed at her. Once again, she pretended not to notice.
“And do you know what else Dima’s done?” Nellie raised a finger triumphantly. “He’s buying her a flat! Can you imagine? As a wedding gift! Now that’s a real man!”
Victor frowned.
“We’ll see what he actually gives her. Until I see the paperwork, I won’t believe it.”
“That’s what a proper choice looks like!” Nellie pressed on. “And you, meanwhile—your wife owns her flat, and you’re not even on the deeds.”
Julia left the room. Her chest tightened. The same old song—about “signing over half,” “where’s the fairness,” “we’re family.” They’d been married a year, and all this time, Nellie had been trying to claw her way into Julia’s property.
Victor had started pressuring her too—saying his mates laughed at him, a man without his own place. He’d bought a car, done the renovations, furnished it—but it was all under her name.
“No one tricked you, Victor,” Julia had snapped. “You didn’t marry a flat—you married me. Or did you?”
He’d gone quiet. Until the next time his mother visited.
When Victor’s domineering aunt dropped by, he spun another tale.
“Yeah, we bought the flat. Mostly with my money,” he declared confidently.
Julia nearly choked on her tea. The lies flowed freely. She stayed silent—not for him, but for herself.
Then his mate Andy came round. Victor puffed himself up again.
“Make yourself at home, mate. After all, this is mine and Julia’s place!”
“Good on you!” Andy said admiringly. “Married, bought a flat. And that car of yours is top-notch!”
Julia watched in disbelief. Where was the kind, straightforward man she’d fallen for?
She packed her bags and left for her parents’ house.
“Mum, I can’t do this anymore. I feel like an investor, not a wife. He only married me for the flat…”
“Think it over, love. But don’t give that flat away—you hear me? Not one inch!”
Julia returned. Soon after, her mother-in-law barged in—unannounced, dishevelled, tears in her eyes.
“Victor, disaster! Dima’s dumped Helen. There’ll be no wedding. And she’s taken out loans—a car, clothes, a phone…”
“How’s that our problem?” Victor stammered.
“We’ve got to help! Julia should put your name on the deeds. You can remortgage—we’ll pay off the debt. Then we’ll sort it later!”
Julia froze. But she snapped back quickly.
“Never. This flat was a gift from my parents. And you won’t get a single penny of it!”
“Heartless!” Nellie shrieked.
Julia walked away, but she overheard mother and son whispering by the door.
“I tried everything, son. But she won’t budge…”
“I’ll think of something else,” Victor muttered darkly.
Julia flung the door open.
“Think away! Scheme to your heart’s content! Just know—this flat isn’t yours. Not one bit. If you want something of your own—work for it like everyone else!”
The next day, Victor moved back to his mother’s.
Julia filed for divorce. Better late than letting them take what was hers. Because other people’s greed never ends—but dignity? That’s all you’ve got.
