The door was ajar. Clara stood motionless in the doorway, clutching the keys in her hand. The metal was cold, but inside everything was burning.
From the living room came an unfamiliar male voice—rough, confident. Then, her mother-in-law’s laughter. Margaret laughed as if she were showing off her own house. Confident, with the air of a homeowner, without the slightest hesitation.
“We can knock down the wall here and make a studio,” he said. “And we’ll move the bedroom there; it’s dark here anyway. You understand, the owner is okay with a quick sale.”
Clara took a step inside. In the living room stood a man of about forty-five, wearing a leather jacket and a gold chain around his neck. He was looking at the walls, clicking his tongue, as if everything had already been decided.
Margaret, in her burgundy jacket, gestured with the enthusiasm of someone who has spent her whole life selling real estate.
— Who are you? — Clara asked.
Her voice sounded lower than she intended, but the atmosphere immediately became tense.
The man turned around. Margaret jumped—just for a moment—and quickly regained her composure.
“Ah, Clara! Just in time!” she said with forced cheerfulness. “I’d like you to meet Michael. He wants to buy the apartment. We’re selling your apartment, Clara! Everything’s been arranged, we just need to sign…”
*
“Buy my apartment?” Clara slowly closed the door behind her. The click of the lock was deafening.
— Mine?
“Ours,” Margaret corrected. “Family. Lucas already explained the situation to you. The money is urgently needed, or this is the end for him. Do you really want your husband to suffer?”
Michael shifted uncomfortably.
— If there’s a family problem…
“There’s no problem,” Margaret cut coldly. “Clara’s just a little tired from work. Isn’t that right, darling?”
Clara looked at her mother-in-law. She was standing in the middle of the living room— her living room—and smiling. She smiled as if everything were already decided. As if Clara weren’t the owner of those walls, but a temporary tenant who could be evicted at any moment.
Three months earlier, Lucas had started coming home late. He spent all his time on his phone, as if he were hiding a state secret. When the money disappeared from their savings account—the money they were saving for the car—Clara couldn’t take it anymore.
— Lucas, where is the money?
He was by the window, with his back to her, smoking outwards.
— I invested it. In a business. A friend is starting something.
—And did you talk to me about it?
She turned around. Her face was gray, with deep dark circles under her eyes.
— Clara, I’m a man. I have to earn money. Support my family. Not live in your apartment like a parasite.
The apartment was truly hers: she had inherited it from her grandmother, even before she had met him. She had never held it against him. Never. And now—right there, in her face.
*
A week later Margaret called. They met at a small corner cafe.
The mother-in-law was crumpling a napkin, looking at the table.
— Clara, I’ll tell you straight. Lucas is in trouble. Serious trouble. That friend he gave the money to… the business failed. Lucas took out more loans. Now he owes a lot. And the deadlines are approaching.
– How much?
Margaret said the number. Clara gasped.
— It’s impossible.
“It’s possible,” Margaret said, taking his hand. “If we sell the apartment. It’s big, in a good area. We can pay off the debt, and with what’s left, you can rent something out. The important thing is to save Lucas. You know what could happen to him.”
Clara got up.
— I need to think about it.
And now she was there, in her own living room, looking at her mother-in-law, now a stranger, understanding one thing: she had already been erased. Eliminated like an unnecessary phrase.
— Enough. Leave.
Clara opened the door wide.
— Both of them. Right now.
Michael hurried out, but Margaret remained rooted to the spot.
— How dare you? I’m your husband’s mother!
—And that’s why you decided to sell my apartment without my consent?
— Lucas gave his approval! He’s the owner!
— It isn’t.
Clara’s voice turned low. Firm. You don’t argue with a voice like that.
He stepped forward, looked Margaret directly in the eyes, and said slowly:
— And now listen to me very carefully… because from here on this will no longer be a family conversation.
*
Margaret let out a mocking laugh. Her smile was strained, crooked.
“Are you threatening me?” she asked in a low voice. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
Clara didn’t answer right away. She took out her phone and, without taking her eyes off her mother-in-law, touched the screen.
— Yes. I know perfectly well.
“Clara, stop this circus,” Margaret lowered her voice. “Michael’s leaving, we’ll talk calmly, you’ll calm down…”
— Michael is leaving — Clara interrupted. — Not us. We’ll talk to the police.
Margaret paled.
“Are you crazy?” she hissed. “Do you want to destroy the family? Put your husband’s mother in jail?”
“The family?” Clara smiled bitterly. “You sold them out before. The moment you brought a buyer into my house without my permission.”
Michael was already in the hallway, nervously buttoning his jacket.
“I… didn’t know it was like this,” she murmured. “I was told the owner agreed.”
“They lied to her,” Clara said calmly. “You can leave. She can’t.”
The doorbell rang. Short. Insistent.
Margaret was startled.
– Who is it?
Clara opened the door. There were two police officers on the threshold.
“We received a report of an attempted illegal sale of a property and fraud,” one said. “Who called?”
“Me,” Clara replied. “The apartment is mine. Here are the documents. And this woman tried to sell it without my consent.”
Margaret began to speak rapidly, in a rush:
— It’s a misunderstanding! A family conflict! I’m the owner’s mother!
“The owner isn’t listed on the documents and doesn’t live here,” the other agent interrupted calmly, reviewing the file. “But you brought a buyer and pretended to be the owner. Please come with us.”
“They have no right!” Margaret shouted. “Clara, say something to them! We’ll fix this!”
Clara remained silent.
When the handcuffs clicked shut on Margaret’s wrists, the floor fell silent. Only heavy breathing and the clang of metal could be heard.
“You’ll regret this,” Margaret whispered as they led her away. “Lucas won’t forgive you.”
“Let him start by apologizing,” Clara replied. “And telling the truth. At least once.”
*
That night Lucas appeared. Unannounced. With red eyes.
“Why did you do this?” he asked from the doorway. “They took my mother to the police. Do you know what you did?”
Clara left a folder with documents in front of him.
— I defended my home. And now you’ll explain everything to me. The debts. The “friend.” And why your mother thought she could decide about my life.
He sat down. He lowered his head.
The truth was worse than Clara expected. There was no business. There were bets. Loans. Panic. Lies, one after another.
“I thought I could get out of this,” Lucas whispered. “My mother wanted to help…”
“No,” Clara shook her head. “I wanted to solve the problem at my expense. Just like you.”
A month later, Margaret received a suspended sentence. Lucas, a divorce, and the obligation to pay his debts alone.
And Clara, for the first time in a long time, woke up in silence. In her house. In her life.
She closed the window, took a deep breath, and said softly to the empty room:
— Nobody will ever decide for me again.
