“Snowy, we finally made it!” Marina exclaimed, bursting into the new apartment with a large box holding a cake.

Snezhana smiled when she accepted the gift. Five years of dreaming had finally come to fruition: their very own two-room flat in a brand-new building. It might be on the outskirts of town, yet it was theirs.

“Come in, come in! Vasily’s just setting the table,” Snezhana called, guiding her sister-in-law into the living room, where Vasya was already busy at work.

Her husband arranged the plates and glasses with meticulous care, as if he feared breaking the delicate crystal—just as new as their life together inside these walls. Without lifting his eyes, Vasily nodded at Marina.

Snezhana glanced at the clock—other guests would arrive any minute. At the publishing house where she worked as an editor, everyone wondered how the young couple had managed to save for a flat without taking loans.

“Patience and hard work,” she told her colleagues, though she herself could hardly believe the miracle had happened.

The doorbell cut her thoughts short. Konstantin and his wife Olga stood outside.

“We almost didn’t get lost!” Konstantin laughed, hugging his brother. “Brand‑new place, we barely found it.”

Next came her in‑laws—Pyotr Semyonovich and Galina Yegorovna.

“What a bright apartment!” her father‑in‑law exclaimed, looking around. “Well done, kids!”

Galina Yegorovna silently inspected the place, as though  appraising every centimeter.

Vasily filled the glasses.

“To the new home!” toasted Pyotr Semyonovich. “May you live long and happily!”

They clinked glasses. Out of the corner of her eye, Snezhana noticed her mother‑in‑law only wetting her lips with the drink.

“So whose name is on the deed?” Galina Yegorovna asked casually.

“Both of ours, Mum,” Vasily replied. “Half each.”

His mother shot him a quick look. Snezhana caught it—silent reproach.

“Quite right,” Igor, Marina’s husband, chimed in. “Everyone does that now.”

“In our day…” Galina began, but fell silent under her husband’s gaze.

Marina shared her children’s antics, Konstantin boasted of a promotion. Snezhana served salad after salad.

“Snowy, you’re amazing,” Pyotr said warmly. “Always knew Vasya couldn’t go wrong with you.”

Snezhana looked around at her family—her support. Only her mother‑in‑law’s eyes stayed cold.

“Why did the fifty‑fifty deed bother her so much?” Snezhana wondered.

Sensing her tension, Vasily squeezed her hand under the table.

They raised their glasses to the new homeowners. Snezhana smiled, yet a worm of doubt had crept in. Something in Galina’s eyes unsettled her—and she couldn’t forget that look for weeks.

A May breeze rustled the curtains when the phone rang.

“Snezha? It’s Lyuda,” the voice trembled. “Uncle Nikolai passed away last night. His heart.”

Snezhana froze.

“But I thought he was getting better.”

“The doctors said his heart was weak—it just gave out.”

She’d last seen Uncle Nikolai three years earlier at a birthday, but the news hit hard.

After the funeral an elderly man in a strict suit approached.

“Snezhana Andreevna? Ignatyev, your uncle’s notary.”

She nodded.

“You need to visit my office. Nikolai Petrovich left a will,” he handed her a card. “You’re the sole heir—he left you his apartment.”

“Me?” she gasped. “Why?”

“He wanted to help you get on your feet—admired your independence.”

Vasily’s brows shot up.

“The three‑room flat in the center?”

“Exactly.”

They drove home in silence: Snezhana thinking of her uncle, Vasily drumming the steering wheel.

“Can’t believe it,” he said at last. “You could sell a place like that for serious money.”

“Vasya, let’s not.”

News of the inheritance spread like wildfire. Within a week Marina called “just to chat.”

“The landlord raised our rent again,” she sighed. “Kids need space. Igor says a year rent‑free would get us a down payment.”

Snezhana guessed where that was headed.

A few days later Konstantin showed up.

“You can’t imagine how crushing my loan is,” he moaned over tea. “It all goes to the bank.”

Olga nodded meaningfully, eyeing the new furniture.

“A place of your own is a life dream,” she added, studying the décor.

The showdown came at dinner at her mother‑in‑law’s. Galina had outdone herself; the table groaned under appetizers.

“Our Snezhka is a rich heiress now,” she announced loudly. “Two apartments! And she won’t even help her husband’s family.”

Snezhana choked on her drink.

“What do you mean—won’t? No one asked me.”

“Do we need to ask?” Galina narrowed her eyes. “You should help relatives without being asked.”

“Mum, don’t—” Marina tried, unconvincingly. “Growing kids need space. I could rent your place, family rate.”

“And I could pay a bit each month—if you signed it over to me,” Konstantin added.

Snezhana looked from face to face. Vasily stared at his plate.

“Vasya, what do you think?” she asked, seeking support.

He met his mother’s gaze and shrugged.

“Well, we should help family…”

She hadn’t even processed the inheritance before it was carved up.

Setting her fork down, Snezhana straightened. Silence fell; eyes fixed on her like vultures.

“So you thought I’d sign the flat over to you?” she smirked.

Galina’s face flushed crimson.

“No one’s forcing you!” She slammed the table. “But there’s such a thing as conscience!”

“What do you know about family?” Marina snapped. “My kids are stuck in a rental, and you—”

“And we?” Snezhana cut in. “We saved five years—every kopeck.”

Konstantin narrowed his eyes. “Some people get lucky—rich uncles leave apartments.”

“Enough!” Vasily’s voice rang out.

He rarely raised his voice.

“Mum, you’re over the line,” he rose. “This is Snezhana’s inheritance; her decision.”

Galina threw up her hands. “Against your own mother, for her—”

“Don’t!” Vasily slammed the table, dishes rattled. “Snezhana is my wife. I’ll back any decision.”

Snezhana stared in wonder. He’d never defended her so firmly.

“We’re renting the apartment,” he said. “We need the income—we want a baby.”

Silence. Pyotr nodded approvingly.

“Right, son,” he said softly. “Your own family first.”

“A baby?” Galina sputtered. “You just got a place!”

“Mum, I’m thirty‑two,” Vasily took Snezhana’s hand. “It’s time. Uncle Nikolai’s flat is a gift to our future child.”

“And you…?” Galina eyed Snezhana.

“Not yet,” she replied, squeezing Vasily’s hand. “But soon.”

Marina snorted. Konstantin stared at his plate; Olga fidgeted.

“We should go,” Vasily said. “Thanks for dinner.”

They left. At the door Pyotr caught up.

“Don’t blame them,” he whispered. “Envy clouds judgment. It’ll pass.”

At home, Snezhana hugged Vasily.

“Thank you. I never thought—”

“Sorry I hesitated,” he stroked her hair. “I just never imagined my family could be like that.”

“Do you really want a child?” she asked.

“Of course. And you?”

“I’ve dreamed of it.”

A year later little Sofia arrived. Relations with the relatives cooled—but turned honest. Rent from Uncle Nikolai’s flat covered expenses for their growing family.

One day Galina visited, lingering awkwardly in the hall before handing over a bundle.

“Found some baby clothes,” she muttered. “Thought Sofia could use them.”

Their marriage, tested by relatives’ greed, only grew stronger. Vasily and Snezhana learned what true family meant—standing up for each other through any storm. Tucking Sofia in at night, they often exchanged gentle smiles, knowing real wealth isn’t apartments but the courage to protect their little world. Even Galina admitted: her son’s family was the best thing that ever happened to him.