My mother-in-law had already started dividing up my apartment — until she saw one document.
“Mark and I have decided that Alex will stay in your new apartment on the avenue,” my mother-in-law Helen said calmly, placing a printed temporary registration form on the kitchen table.
I looked up. In the “Owner” field, my name had already been written in pencil.
There was her old habit of giving orders in that gesture. She used to run a library and had grown used to the fact that no one questioned her decisions.
Twenty-five-year-old Alex — a distant relative of the family — confidently pushed my notebook with medical notes aside and placed a huge sports bag on the table.
He behaved as if the matter had already been settled long ago.
My husband Mark took out a bunch of keys and tossed them onto the table in front of Alex with a jingle. He ran a small auto repair shop and was used to being the boss in his own garage. Apparently, he thought it should be the same at home.
Calmly, I took the keys and slipped them into my pocket.
“Who exactly is this ‘we’ that decided this?” I asked.
Helen straightened up as if she were about to announce a final decision.
“The family decided so. Relatives should help each other. Alex is just starting his life in the city. He’ll stay with you for a while, look around, find a job. He’ll pay the utility bills. Sign the form — without registration it will be hard for him to find a job.”
I calmly replied:
“The apartment isn’t free. This week I’m signing a rental agreement. There are already people who will be living there.”
Alex angrily tugged at the zipper of his bag.
“Mark said the apartment was free. I already told my friends I’m throwing a housewarming party on Saturday.”
Mark, irritated, pushed his plate aside.
“Laura, stop arguing. People can wait. It’s our apartment and we should help the family. Alex will stay there for free until he gets back on his feet. I already ordered a car to move his things.”
“A car?” I asked calmly. “Did you pay for it from our joint account?”
“I’ll return the money at the end of the month. That’s not the point. He’s my relative.”
I stood up and leaned against the kitchen counter.
— We are not discussing this any further. Alex will not live in my apartment.
My mother-in-law slammed her hand on the table.
— In your apartment? Don’t forget that you’ve been married to Mark for many years. The apartment was bought recently. That means it’s joint property.
She said it with such certainty, as if it were an obvious truth.
Without a word, I left the kitchen, went to the bedroom, and took a blue folder with documents from the safe.
When I returned, I placed a copy of the property registry in front of Helen.
She cautiously brought the document closer.
— Gift deed… — she read quietly. — What does this mean?
Mark also leaned over to look at the document.
— Laura… what gift? We looked at the apartments together.
— You looked — I replied calmly. — But the money was paid by my father. The apartment was given to me as a gift. That’s why it belongs only to me.
A silence fell in the kitchen.
My mother-in-law tried to protest again:
— But Mark did the renovation! He put his work into it!
Mark immediately jumped on that argument.
— Yes! I laid the floor, replaced the sockets, helped with the renovation.
I opened the folder and took out a few invoices.
— Here are the documents for the renovation. The work was done by a construction company, and the payment was made from my private account.
The fact that you helped lay the floor and install the sockets doesn’t make you the owner of the apartment.
Mark fell silent.
Alex slowly grabbed his bag, realizing that the story of a free apartment was over.
My mother-in-law said quietly:
— So you’re throwing a relative out on the street?
— No — I replied calmly. — He can rent a room, stay in a hostel, or find another apartment. There are many options in the city. But he will not live in my apartment.
I looked at Alex.
— The keys are only with me. If anyone tries to enter without my permission, I will simply call the police.
My mother-in-law stood up abruptly.
— Come on, Alex. We have nothing to do here.
They left the apartment. The door closed behind them.
Mark stayed at the table, looking at the folder with documents.
After a moment, he said:
— You could have said that a little more gently.
I stopped in the kitchen doorway.
— If you don’t like that I’m protecting my boundaries and my property, you can pack your things and go to your mother.
Mark lowered his gaze. He knew perfectly well there was no point in arguing.
I turned off the light and went to the bedroom.
The next day, I had a regular shift at the clinic, and in the evening, I was signing a lease with new tenants.
My life was moving according to my plan.
Sometimes people are too sure they can decide about someone else’s property. But their certainty ends where knowledge of one’s own rights begins.
