Galina Ivanovna stood by the window, watching a gentle drizzle fall over the city. At seventy-three, she often found herself thinking about the future—what she would leave behind, and who truly cared.
She lived alone in a spacious three-room apartment in the city center, the result of a lifetime of hard work. She had raised two children on her own while working as an engineer. Now, her son Viktor and daughter Irina had families of their own.
That afternoon, the phone rang.
— *”Hi, Mom! How are you feeling?”* Irina’s warm voice came through the receiver. *”I sent a little package—some tea and your favorite cookies.”*
— *”Thank you, dear,”* Galina replied, her heart warming. Irina called regularly, always asking about her health, always sounding concerned.
After the call, Galina felt at peace. She believed she had made the right decision—to leave the apartment to Irina. Her daughter stayed in touch, offered support, and always sounded so thoughtful. Her son Viktor was responsible, but busy. His wife, Natasha, seemed quiet and distant.
The next day, Galina visited a notary.
— *”Are you sure about your decision?”* the notary asked gently.
— *”Yes,”* she replied with confidence. *”My daughter has been there for me.”*
—
Two days later, someone knocked on her door.
— *”It’s me—Natasha.”*
Galina opened the door, surprised to see her daughter-in-law standing there with grocery bags in hand.
— *”I brought you a few things—and made some borscht and cutlets. Vitya said you liked them.”*
Natasha moved easily through the kitchen, unpacking, chatting, tidying up. She noticed a leaking faucet and called her brother, who came over and fixed it at no cost.
Galina was touched. It was the first time in years she had spent a full afternoon with Natasha. She had always thought of her as reserved, but now she saw another side—kind, helpful, and sincere.
— *”Did Irina ask you to visit?”* Galina asked quietly.
— *”No. I just wanted to stop by. Vitya’s been busy, but we’ve been thinking about you.”*
Natasha left with a smile, promising to return soon.
—
That night, Galina couldn’t stop thinking. Natasha had said Irina lived in the next district—just a short bus ride away. But Irina had always said visits were hard because she lived far. That small inconsistency started to weigh on her heart.
The next day, Irina called.
— *”Mom, did you go to the notary? Did you finish the paperwork?”*
Galina paused.
— *”How do you know about that?”*
— *”You told me… didn’t you?”* Irina’s tone shifted slightly. *”You said you wanted to put the apartment in order.”*
Galina’s heart sank. She had never told anyone about her decision. Doubt began to settle in. When she hung up, the phone rang again. And again. Eventually, she turned it off.
That evening, Irina arrived in person, visibly upset.
— *”Why aren’t you answering your phone? Is this because of Natasha?”*
The conversation quickly became tense. Irina expressed frustration and suspicion.
— *”They’re trying to take the apartment from me. I’m the one who always called you!”*
Galina quietly replied:
— *”Is that why you called? For the apartment?”*
Irina denied it. But Galina had heard enough to realize something had shifted. She asked her daughter to leave, needing space to think clearly.
—
Later that night, Viktor came over.
— *”Ira called me,”* he said. *”She seemed very upset. What’s going on?”*
Galina told him everything. Viktor listened, then quietly added:
— *”Neither Natasha nor I knew about the apartment. Natasha really just wanted to check on you. She’s always wanted a closer relationship with you.”*
They spoke for hours. Memories surfaced—some comforting, some painful. Galina realized she had been clinging to assumptions, and now it was time to reevaluate everything.
—
A week later, Irina returned, clearly emotional.
— *”You gave the apartment to Viktor, didn’t you?”*
Galina replied calmly:
— *”No. I created a will. The apartment will go to the grandchildren, with one condition: that they help care for me. If not, it will be donated to charity.”*
Irina looked shocked.
— *”And me?”*
— *”You will receive your share. Twenty percent. That’s fair.”*
— *”That’s not right!”*
— *”I made the decision after careful thought,”* Galina said gently. *”And I had a medical evaluation to ensure I made it with a clear mind.”*
Irina didn’t respond. She simply left.
—
That evening, Viktor came again—with Natasha and the children.
They brought cake and fruit. The children shared stories from school, Natasha prepared dinner, and the kitchen filled with laughter.
— *”Grandma, Mom said you joined a choir!”*
— *”I did,”* Galina smiled. *”And I love it.”*
The warmth in the room was undeniable. For the first time in a long while, Galina felt surrounded by genuine care. Not for her belongings—but for her as a person.
She looked around and said softly:
— *”I think it’s time you all moved in with me. There’s enough room, and I’d love the company.”*
Natasha smiled, touched. Viktor nodded.
— *”We’d be honored, Mom.”*
