The sharp clack of the hard plastic folder on the tabletop was louder than the chiming of the crystal glasses. I was just placing the roasted fish in the center of the table; the cramped kitchen of our rental apartment was filled with the scent of lemon, rosemary, and a hint of burnt cheese.
The air conditioner was helpless against the heat from the oven, and a damp strand of hair stuck to my forehead. My thirty-third birthday was being celebrated with a small family gathering, but I already felt that this circle was about to turn into a fiery hell.
At the table sat my closest family. Igor, my husband, the commercial director of a large retail chain, scanned us all with a cold gaze. His mother, Nina Vasiljevna, in a perfectly ironed suit and flawless hairstyle, radiated an air of superiority. My sister-in-law Zhanna constantly fiddled with her phone,
as if documenting every moment, and my father-in-law, Mikhail Petrovich, quietly chewed a salad leaf, almost invisible, but the tension in every movement was palpable.Seven years of marriage. I worked from home as a pastry chef, smoothing cakes late into the night,
inhaling powdered sugar, investing every saved penny into our house in suburban Kedrovoe. Igor oversaw the workers at the construction site, while I dreamed of a shared future I thought was strong and secure.Igor pushed back his chair without touching the fish, and slowly, deliberately,
as if negotiating with his most important client, he dropped a stack of folded papers onto the table. They landed on my linen napkin.“Happy birthday!” he grinned, presenting the papers as a divorce petition.Nina Vasiljevna pressed her lips together in satisfaction.
Zhanna finally looked up from her screen, her face twisted in a mocking smile. They all knew the entire family had come to witness my humiliation.“I don’t like wasting time,” Igor continued, hands in his pockets. “There’s an Anjelika. The Kedrovoe house is fully ready.
I invested my annual bonuses, I paid for everything. Pack up your whisks and find a cheaper place to live.”A silent tension filled the kitchen. The ticking of the wall clock was the only sound. Igor’s family waited for the dramatic moment. They wanted me to cry, beg, to beg him not to destroy the “family.”
But I did not cry. I did not fear. The fear of the future suddenly snapped inside me like an invisible spring. A loud, tinkling laugh escaped me.“Have you completely lost your mind?” Zhanna wrinkled her nose, a mix of disgust and astonishment. “They’re throwing you out, and you’re cheerful?”
Igor’s face contorted. His beautiful, dramatic farewell scene fell apart in pieces.“Stop this circus, Dasha. Keep your dignity,” he hissed.But I simply stood up, walked over to Nina Vasiljevna, and calmly looked her in the eye.“Do you remember, five days before our wedding,
yelling in public that I was a cunning girl, only after your young, successful son’s millions? — my voice was clear, slow, every word heavy. — And we were forced to sign a prenuptial agreement.”The mother-in-law blinked, her hand frozen in the air.
“What does that have to do with anything?” she muttered. “I was protecting Igor’s assets!”“Completely justified,” I nodded. “But the Kedrovoe plot, where the house stands, is my personal property. According to the prenuptial agreement, everything there is mine. From foundation to roof.
Including the underfloor heating, oak parquet, and the Jacuzzi you ordered for Anjelika.”Nina’s silver fork clinked against the table. Her face flushed, her voice trembling with hysteria.“That’s theft!” she shouted. “My son paid the loan!”“He took it out in his own name,” I corrected gently.
“Voluntarily, and the contract is clear: no compensation is due. You brought the divorce papers today, Igor. There’s no turning back.”I stepped into the hallway with my bag as Igor blocked the door. All his arrogance was gone. His gaze darted, shoulders slumped.
“Dasha, wait!” he whispered. “I was too harsh, really. Anjelika… this is foolish…”“Go away, Igor. Loans don’t wait. From now on, the house is your responsibility for another six years,” I said calmly.Three months later, we divorced.
Anjelika left Igor that same evening when she learned she would be forced into a rental instead of the countryside life. And I moved into Kedrovoe, where I set up a professional pastry workshop in the bright, spacious kitchen. Looking out the window at the pine forest,
I am always grateful for my former mother-in-law’s greed: she gave me the most valuable birthday gift of all when she demanded the prenuptial agreement.