Six years ago, Alexandra believed she had encountered the man she dreamed of. Ilya appeared dependable and serious, with clear visions for their future. They first met at an office party organized by her friend, where Ilya worked in IT. Alexandra had attended merely to support her acquaintance. Their entire evening centered on conversations about travel, literature, and life aspirations. Ilya shared his longing to visit Japan, while Alexandra expressed her desire to study Renaissance art in Italy.
«Imagine,» Ilya whispered, leaning in over the café’s ambient noise, «we could explore Europe extensively. I will save money, you take time off, and together we’ll follow wherever the road leads us.»
Alexandra smiled, visualizing such adventures. Back then, the future seemed limitless, and time was abundant for all these plans.
Their wedding was intimate yet heartfelt. Alexandra did not wish for extravagance, and Ilya respected this. After the ceremony, close friends and family joined them for a modest dinner. Alexandra’s grandmother, Maria Ivanovna, presented an envelope containing keys.
«Sasha, my dear,» the elderly woman embraced her granddaughter, «these keys belong to the apartment on Pushkinskaya. I put it in your name a year ago, everything has been notarized. May you live happily.»
Tears nearly welled up in Alexandra’s eyes, overwhelmed with gratitude. This two-bedroom apartment in the city center was a true blessing. It boasted bright spaces, lofty ceilings, and above all, their very own place to build their life.
Ilya thanked his grandmother warmly, appreciating her kindness. On the way home, he remarked on the joy of having a place to call their own.
«Now, we have a home base,» he said, glancing around the rooms. «Rent is no longer a burden, and we can save towards future trips.»
Alexandra invested nearly all her savings into renovating the apartment. She carefully selected wallpaper, furniture, and tableware—paying attention to every tiny detail. Her goal was to design a perfect haven where their happiness would flourish. Ilya contributed advice but did not provide funds, explaining he was saving for a trip to Thailand.
«You see,» he argued, «you own the apartment; I have nothing. It’s only fair that I finance our holiday.»
At that time, Alexandra found his reasoning sensible. The apartment had indeed been gifted to her, and their shared vacations did require spending. For several years, their marriage was marked by frequent travel—Thailand, Turkey, Greece—all new destinations each vacation.
To acquaintances, Ilya described their apartment as jointly owned.
- «We secured a two-bedroom downtown,» he said with pride. «Sure, the renovations cost a fair amount, but it was worthwhile.»
Initially, Alexandra corrected him, clarifying the apartment was her grandmother’s gift. Ilya requested she avoid emphasizing this.
«Why bring it up unnecessarily?» he contended. «People might assume I married for the apartment.»
Gradually, Alexandra gave up correcting him. After all, they were a family, and she thought everything was mutual.
However, difficulties started about six months ago. Ilya began staying late at work, arriving home exhausted and late. His responses to Alexandra’s inquiries became curt.
«How was your day?» Alexandra would ask.
«Fine,» Ilya grunted, eyes glued to his phone.
«What’s for dinner?» she continued.
«Whatever,» he replied disinterestedly.
Previously, he would share work stories and plans. Now, it seemed as though he withdrew from their shared life, his phone constantly occupying his attention—even during meals.
«Is something wrong?» Alexandra cautiously inquired one evening.
«Nothing’s wrong,» Ilya snapped irritably. «Just busy at work. Don’t make mountains out of molehills.»
Despite reassurances, Alexandra sensed a change in him—he seemed distant and detached. Even his embraces felt obligatory, lacking warmth.
One night, Alexandra awoke to the vibration of Ilya’s phone beside her. Although he was asleep, the screen illuminated with a message notification. Usually, she ignored messages not meant for her, but something compelled her to check.
«Well, have you told her yet? Once we move in together, we’ll buy that beautiful bedding set from the store,» the text read.
The sender was Larisa, Ilya’s colleague from the adjacent department. Alexandra recognized her—a young, vivacious woman known for her cheerful laughter at office parties.
Alexandra’s heart thundered in her chest. The message implied their plans for separation. «Have you told her yet» seemingly referred to a divorce, and «when we move in together» suggested Larisa and Ilya intended to live as a couple.
She quietly returned the phone to its place, her thoughts spinning late into the night, piecing together recent events—the late shifts, the emotional distance, the incessant phone use.
The following morning, Ilya proceeded with his routine: breakfast, preparing for work. Yet Alexandra noticed everything differently—his avoidance of eye contact, hasty departures, and constant glance at his phone.
«Goodbye,» Ilya said, kissing her cheek.
«Goodbye,» Alexandra echoed, pondering the heaviness of that farewell.
That day, Alexandra contemplated her next steps. Should she confront him? Seek explanations? Yet, with everything clear, perhaps it was best to brace for the forthcoming discussion.
From her closet, she retrieved a folder containing property documents—the gift deed from her grandmother, housing inspection certificates, and ownership papers—all registered in her name prior to the marriage.
The next evening, Ilya arrived home earlier than usual and sat at the kitchen table, silent as he collected his courage.
«Sasha, I need to talk,» he eventually said.
«I’m listening,» Alexandra responded calmly, mentally steeling herself.
«I… well… I’m leaving. No need for drama. We can sort this out reasonably. We’ll split the assets evenly—I want my share,» he declared firmly.
She studied him silently. No apologies, no justifications. Only claims.
«Fine,» she said. «Bring any documents regarding your possessions tomorrow. We will inventory everything.»
Ilya nodded, seemingly surprised by her composed reply.
«Agreed. And thank you for not creating a scene,» he added.
That evening, Alexandra laid out all paperwork on the table: the gift deed, receipts for furniture and appliances she purchased, renovation bills. The pile was significant.
Two days later, Ilya came with a small folder containing documents for his car, purchased on credit before their marriage, and his salary certificate.
«These are mine,» Ilya stated without glancing at Alexandra’s papers. «I’ve already found a place closer to work. If we sell this apartment, it will cover the down payment.»
Alexandra smiled, holding up the gift deed once again.
«The apartment? Indeed, it is Grandma’s gift. Not yours—you won’t be receiving it!» she said teasingly while watching Ilya pack his belongings.
Ilya paled while scrutinizing the official document, dated a year before their wedding, bearing Maria Ivanovna’s signature and notary seal. Clearly, it was not joint property.
«But… we were family,» Ilya mumbled, leafing through the papers. «I contributed too…»
«To what exactly?» Alexandra responded calmly, producing receipts from her folder. «Furniture, appliances—all in my name. If you have anything, show me your evidence.»
Ilya muttered about shared life and building theirs together but couldn’t produce any documents. Throughout six years, he never invested a penny into the apartment; his money was spent on entertainment and travels.
«You owe me for my best years!» Ilya suddenly shouted, standing up. «Six years of my life! I could’ve been with someone else and bought my own place!»
Alexandra silently pulled out her phone and displayed a screenshot of Ilya’s chat with Larisa. A photo revealed the two hugging by tropical palms at a seaside resort, dated just last month during Ilya’s supposed work trip.
«Your best years?» Alexandra asked quietly. «Apparently, the last one was quite good for you.»
Ilya averted his gaze, unable to reply.
That same night, Alexandra answered a phone call filled with frantic shouting.
«Are you crazy?!» Ilya’s mother screamed. «Throw him out of the apartment! Where will you live? Alone in that two-room while my son wanders!»
«Good evening, Lyudmila Petrovna,» Alexandra said politely. «Ilya no longer lives here. By his own choice.»
«By his own choice? It’s a family home! Give him his share!»
«What share?» Alexandra replied calmly. «The apartment was a gift from my grandmother before the wedding. Your son has no claim.»
Lyudmila Petrovna continued yelling, insisting on justice and threatening legal action. Alexandra listened patiently before ending the call.
The following week, Ilya visited a lawyer, presenting their marriage papers, hoping to claim part ownership. The lawyer examined the gift deed and housing documents and shook his head.
«I’m sorry, but you won’t receive any share,» the lawyer explained. «This isn’t joint property. The apartment was gifted to your wife before marriage and registered in her name.»
«What about court?» Ilya pressed. «I contributed to renovations…»
«Prove it with documentation,» the lawyer advised. «Receipts, bank transfers, anything. Without evidence, the court will not recognize your claim.»
Ilya left empty-handed, finally realizing he would not secure ownership.
Two weeks later, he returned to collect his belongings—clothes, books, chargers—everything consolidated into three bags.
«Is that all?» Ilya asked, standing amid the bags in the hallway.
Alexandra nodded silently and opened the door.
«That’s all. And thank heavens,» she said, closing the door behind him.
The next day, Alexandra called a locksmith and changed the locks. She ordered new furniture for the bedroom, as the old set reminded her of their past. The walls were repainted in a light blue shade she always loved, though Ilya had considered it too bright.
For the first time in years, Alexandra no longer needed to negotiate every home decision or argue over furniture or decor. She arranged everything exactly as she wished.
A month later, a friend shared news from Ilya’s workplace.
«Heard about your ex?» the friend asked during coffee. «Larisa isn’t happy living with him. She says Ilya promised her a wonderful life but ended up taking a mortgage on a tiny place far from the city.»
Alexandra smiled, imagining Larisa’s shattered illusions of an apartment in the city center.
«Seems things weren’t as straightforward as planned,» Alexandra commented.
«Yeah. Larisa complains about a thirty-year loan and being shocked at Ilya’s real salary,» the friend added.
In her renewed bedroom, Alexandra hung a photograph of her grandmother — young and standing by the seaside, smiling warmly. That wise woman seemed to endorse Alexandra’s decisions and newfound independence.
Sometimes, Alexandra pondered how different life might have been had she not seen Larisa’s message. Perhaps Ilya’s double life would have continued indefinitely, and the truth might never have surfaced.
Now, it no longer mattered. The apartment was serene, filled with beloved books and blooming violets—plants Ilya once mocked as mere dust collectors. In the evenings, Alexandra played classical music, the very type Ilya disliked.
Through the window, the city lights flickered. Somewhere, quarrels erupted; elsewhere, reconciliations occurred; plans for the future were made.
And here, in this home gifted by a caring grandmother, Alexandra embarked on a new chapter—one without deception, betrayal, or sharing what was solely hers.
Key Insight: This narrative vividly portrays the complexities of marriage, trust, and property rights. It highlights the significance of clear legal documentation and personal boundaries in relationships.
Ultimately, Alexandra’s story illustrates resilience and the power of rightful ownership, paving the way for a peaceful, authentic life ahead.