The dinner I had been preparing all evening lay untouched, instantly losing all meaning. I slowly lifted my gaze to Andrei, who was sitting across from me at the kitchen table. Our cozy kitchen, which I had lovingly arranged over the past three years, suddenly felt like a stuffy, cramped cockroach den.

“Do you seriously think that I will sell my apartment for you?” my voice faltered, as if sand had been poured down my throat, but the words came out sharp and prickly, like thorns.

Andrei rubbed his nose — a gesture that appeared during moments of intense anxiety. His broad shoulders slumped, and his gaze, usually warm and confident, now darted across the table, unable to meet mine.

“Galia, understand, I would never have asked you this if it weren’t about Vasily,” he said, looking deeply at me. “My son is in trouble. Real trouble.”

I pushed the plate aside, my fingers trembling slightly. Vasily, Andrei’s son from his first marriage. Twenty-seven years old, ambitious, sometimes reckless. We had never been close, but I had tried to maintain a good relationship — for Andrei’s sake.

“What happened?” I asked, though my inner voice already suggested that I wouldn’t like the answer.

“He took out a loan. A big one.” Andrei finally raised his eyes to mine, confusion and almost desperation evident in his gaze. “He thought he could start a business, but something went wrong. Now the collectors are threatening him… And if he doesn’t pay within a month, there’ll be a criminal case. They might put him in jail, Galia!”

A heavy silence filled the kitchen, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock — old, still from my grandmother’s house, which I took after my mother passed away. I watched the clock as the second hand ticked, almost hoping that if I waited long enough, this entire conversation would turn out to be a bad dream.

“And… how much does he need?” I finally broke the silence.

Andrei named an amount that took my breath away. Such a sum could never fit into our family budget. Not in any way.

“Vasya promises to pay it all back as soon as he gets back on his feet,” Andrei hurried on. “But right now… right now, he needs help. My apartment is mortgaged, I can’t sell it quickly. But yours… it’s all yours. You can sell it, help Vasily, and then buy something smaller. Temporarily.”

The word “temporarily” hung in the air like a false note. “But this is my apartment,” I felt a lump form in my throat. “I grew up there. Mom left it to me before she died.”

“I understand,” Andrei reached across the table and placed his hand over mine. His palm was warm, familiar, but now that touch brought no usual comfort. “But this is about Vasily’s freedom. About my son!”

He said the last phrase with emphasis, as though reminding me: “You, Galina, may have been my wife for five years, but Vasily is my blood.” And I involuntarily felt like an outsider. An intruder in this family drama.

“I need to think,” I replied, pulling my hand away.

“Of course,” Andrei nodded, but a shadow of disappointment passed over his face. As if he had expected me to agree immediately. “But… there’s little time. Very little.”
Outside, rain started to fall. The drops tapped against the eaves, creating a disturbing, irregular sound. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders, suddenly feeling cold.

For Andrei, this was a question of saving his son, of family and duty. For me — it was a question of betrayal. Betrayal of my mother’s memory, betrayal of myself. And I didn’t know what was worse — denying the man I loved help, or losing the only reliable refuge I had.

With a heavy heart, I opened the door to my apartment. The old parquet in the hallway creaked underfoot — a familiar, comforting sound. I ran my hand along the wall with the small flower-patterned wallpaper I had chosen so carefully. Every corner here held memories.

This window in the living room — I changed the frame last spring, saving money on the professionals. And this chandelier with carved shades — a find at a flea market, which I spent an entire day cleaning. The shelves with books collected piece by piece, the rocking chair passed down from my grandmother…

All my own, familiar. And now Andrei asks me to sell it for his son?

My mother’s words, said shortly before she passed, echoed in my mind with piercing clarity: “Galochka, remember: the apartment is your protection. Never throw it away. Men come and go, but the roof over your head should remain.”

At the time, I just laughed. Mom had always been a bit old-fashioned on these matters. Besides, Andrei and I had just gotten married — what doubts could there be?

The phone in my pocket vibrated. Vasily’s number. I answered after the third ring.

“Galina Sergeevna, hello,” his voice sounded unusually polite. “Dad said you… are thinking about the apartment.”

I closed my eyes. The pressure was starting.

“Yes, Vasya. I’m thinking. After all, this is a serious decision.”

“Of course,” he agreed hastily. “I just wanted to say… I will return everything. I swear to you. As soon as things get better. This is a temporary problem, but if I don’t resolve it now…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but the grim continuation hung in the air.
“I understand,” I replied, though inside, doubts were tightening around my chest.

“And also,” added Vasily after a pause, “Dad is really worried. You know how he feels about… well… family values.”

It was a low blow. “Family values” in Vasily’s mouth sounded like an accusation — if I didn’t sell the apartment, then I didn’t consider them family. It meant I didn’t love Andrei truly.

“I’ll think about it,” I repeated and hung up the call.

Sitting on the couch, I cradled my head in my hands. The wedding ring on my finger felt heavier than usual. Five years of marriage. Almost happy. And now, this test.

In the evening, I called Lena, my old friend.

“Are you out of your mind?” she exclaimed after hearing me out. “Don’t you dare sell it!…”

“But he says it’s just temporary…”

“Temporary, huh!” Lena scoffed. “My cousin sold her one-room apartment for her husband. He promised they’d buy a new place once his business took off. Guess where she lives now? In a rented shack on the outskirts, alone with a kid. And the husband took off to Thailand with a young lover.”

“Andrei’s not like that,” I tried to argue.

“All men are ‘not like that,’” Lena cut me off mercilessly. “Until they become ‘like that.’ Galia, if you sell the apartment now, you risk ending up with nothing. I’m telling you this as a lawyer.”

Hanging up the phone, I went to the balcony.

Andrei returned late. “Not sleeping?” he peered into the bedroom.

“Sorry about today”, he said, sitting beside me. “I understand I put you in a difficult position.”

“How much time do we have?” I asked quietly.

“Two weeks. Maximum. After that, the legal problems will start.”

“Are there no other options? Maybe borrow from friends, take out a loan?”

“I’ve already considered everything,” his voice sounded tired. “The amount is too large. Selling the apartment is the only way.”

He pulled me close. “We’ll get through this, Galia. These are just temporary hardships. The important thing is that we’re together.”

I tried to believe his words.

“I’ll think about it some more”, I promised.

That night, I couldn’t fall asleep. I stared at the ceiling, where shadows played from the passing cars outside. And somehow, I began to understand more clearly: something was wrong. There was something off about this situation, this pressure, this rush.

My mother’s words rang in my ears: “The apartment is your protection. Never throw it away.”

The next morning, I had made up my mind.

«I won’t sell the apartment,» I blurted out in one breath, gripping the doorframe.

«What?» Andrei threw his phone on the table. «Galia, we agreed on this!»

«I understand what it means to you and Vasily. But I can’t. It’s my apartment, my parents’ memory.»

Andrei got angry. «The apartment is just property! But Vasily is my son. Are you really that selfish?»

Five years of marriage, and he called me selfish so easily.

«Are you not selfish?» I asked quietly. «Demanding that I lose my roof over my head for your grown son who got himself into trouble.»

Andrei slammed the door and left. I was left alone

When the doorbell rang, I expected to see Andrei.

But it was Vasily— pale, with dark circles under his eyes.

«I know you refused,» he said. «And I understand.»

We talked for a long time. He told me about his problems, the dubious business venture that had failed.

«Dad always pulled me out,» Vasily confessed. «Maybe it’s time to grow up.»

At that moment, Andrei appeared in the doorway. «I’ve made up my mind,» he said. «Galia is right— you can’t solve one problem by creating another. We’ll find other ways.»

Andrei’s words were so unexpected that I thought I must have heard wrong.

«What did you say?» I asked.

«I said you’re right,» Andrei came into the room and sat in a chair opposite Vasily and me. «Selling your apartment is not the solution.»

Vasily jumped up. «Dad, but how… you said there was no other way!»

«I was wrong,» Andrei rubbed his face tiredly. «When you called me yesterday, I panicked. I was only thinking about how to get the money quickly. But today, when I left… I walked the streets for a long time, trying to calm down. And I realized I can’t do this to Galia. I have no right to ask her for such a sacrifice.»

I remained silent, afraid to believe the sincerity of his words. Was this a trick? Was this an attempt to lull my guard down so he could return to this conversation later?

«And what now?» I asked cautiously.

«We’ll have to look for other options,» Andrei looked at his son. «I talked to my boss. He’s willing to give me an interest-free loan against my car. It’ll cover part of the debt. The rest… we’ll have to borrow from friends, relatives. Maybe the bank will give us a loan.»

«But that’s… a whole pile of debt,» Vasily looked confused.

«Yes. And you will help pay it back,» Andrei said firmly. «You’ll find a decent job. No more shady schemes or quick money.»

«But…» Vasily began.

«No more ‘buts.’ It’s this way, or figure it out on your own,» Andrei’s voice sounded unusually harsh. «I’ll help you one last time. But the condition is— you take responsibility for part of the payments. And no pressure on Galia. We’ve been building our relationship for five years, and I won’t let you destroy it.»

I looked at my husband, not recognizing him.

«Do you really think that?» I asked when Vasily, head down, went to the kitchen to call his friends— looking for money.

«Galia, forgive me for everything I said today. I was beside myself with worry for Vasily. But then… then I realized that I almost lost something far more precious— you, our marriage, our trust in each other.»

«Did it take you getting to the edge to realize that?»

«Yes,» he didn’t deny it. «I’ve been saving Vasily all my life. Always rushing to help him, no matter what risk I was taking. It’s probably the fault of a divorced father— the constant feeling that you didn’t give your child enough attention, love… And it became such a reflex that I never even thought about whether what I was doing was right.»

«But today,» Andrei continued, «when I saw that I was ready to sacrifice you… I got scared. Scared of what I could become. I realized that one problem isn’t worth destroying what we’ve built together over all these years.»

«How do I know that a new problem won’t come up tomorrow?» I asked. «And it’ll all repeat?»

«It won’t come up,» Andrei said firmly. «At least not in the same form. I talked to Vasily like a man. I explained that I won’t keep helping him at this cost. That he’s an adult now and needs to take responsibility for his mistakes. And, I think for the first time, he really heard me.»

I said I wasn’t rushing to believe promises.

«Galia,» Andrei pulled me close, «I can’t say that Vasily will stop being important to me. He’s my son. But you— you’re my wife. And if I have to choose between his irresponsibility and your well-being, I’ll choose you. Always.»

Tears stood in his eyes — I had never seen him like this.

«Give me a chance to prove it,» he whispered.

I closed my eyes, trying to sort through the whirlwind of feelings. Hurt, mistrust, exhaustion… but beneath it all— love, which isn’t so easily crossed out.

«Okay,» I nodded. «But under one condition.»

«Anything.»

«No secrets. No one-sided decisions. And your son… he has to understand that I’m not his enemy. But I’m not an ATM.»

«He’ll understand,» Andrei hugged me tighter. «I’ll do everything to make sure he understands.»

A month later, Lena and I were sitting in a café. My friend looked at me with curiosity.

«How are things? Did you make it through the crisis?»

I smiled.

«You know, strangely enough— yes. Andrei sold the car, took out a loan. Vasily got a job— not great, but at least it pays his share of the debt.»

«And do you believe him?» Lena raised an eyebrow skeptically.

«Andrei? Yes,» I thought for a moment. «You know, that situation changed something in him. It’s like he finally grew up. He stopped being just a father, and remembered he was also a husband.»

Lena shook her head.

«I would still be cautious if I were you. Men— they’re like that. Today one thing, tomorrow another.»

«Maybe,» I took a sip of my coffee. «But I feel like I made the right choice. Not just keeping the apartment, but keeping myself. My dignity.»

«And your relationship with Vasily? Is it better?»

«Let’s say— we’re moving in the right direction,» I allowed myself a slight smile. «He no longer sees me as the wicked stepmother who won’t let Daddy help his beloved son. And sometimes he even asks me for advice on work-related matters.»

Lena shook her head skeptically.

«Miracles do happen, then.»

«Not miracles,» I replied. «Sometimes you just need to reach the edge to see the truth. Andrei almost lost me— and that opened his eyes. And I… I realized that love isn’t just about compromises. Sometimes it’s about firmness and staying true to yourself.»

I went home— to my apartment, where Andrei was waiting for me. Our relationship hadn’t become what it once was— it had become something else. More mature, more honest. And who knows, maybe the storm that nearly destroyed our marriage actually strengthened its foundation.

I remembered my mother’s words: «The apartment is your protection.» She was right. But the protection wasn’t so much the property itself, but my ability to defend my right to it, to my own space, to respect.

And that was worth more than any money.