I was rushing to my sister’s hospital, moving too fast to think, when I tossed a few coins toward a young woman sitting by the gate with a baby bundled in her arms. I expected her to stay where she was, to keep her eyes down like everyone else did—but she suddenly stepped into my path, caught my wrist in a grip that didn’t match her thin frame, and whispered, “Wait here.” I froze, not understanding, and five minutes later I saw something that made my legs go weak.

Sarah woke to the ringing phone in the early morning, her hand reaching automatically to the nightstand until her fingers found the vibrating screen. Half asleep, she made out the name on the display—Mom—and pressed the phone to her ear without even opening her eyes. “Hello,” she mumbled.

“Sarah, Olivia has given birth.” Her mother’s voice rang with joy. “A boy. Healthy and strong.”

Sleep vanished instantly. Sarah sat up sharply in bed, careful not to wake Lucas, who lay quietly dozing beside her. “Really?” she whispered, suddenly wide awake. “When did she give birth?” Her mind jumped straight to the hour—three in the morning—and the picture of her younger sister exhausted but safe. “Did everything go well?”

“Everything went well,” her mother said, still glowing through the line. “Of course she must be tired.”

“I’m on my way to her,” Sarah said at once. “Are you coming?”

“Of course I’ll come.”

Sarah jumped out of bed, already pulling on her robe as she moved. “Mom, I’ll get ready and come too.” She hung up and leaned against the cold hallway wall, feeling a warm wave of joy spreading through her chest. Olivia had given birth. Her younger sister was now a mother—and Sarah, an aunt. A nephew.

In the bathroom, Sarah splashed cold water on her face and studied her reflection in the mirror. Thirty-two. Shoulder-length dark hair, gray eyes, an ordinary face, as she always thought—not beautiful, not ugly either. Olivia had always been prettier, more striking, with big blue eyes and light curls. As a child, Sarah had sometimes envied her, but it passed. Everyone has their own life, their own path. She washed up quickly, brushed her hair in haste, and returned to the bedroom.

Lucas was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?” he asked in a husky, half-asleep voice.

“Olivia had a boy.” Sarah couldn’t hold back her smile. “I’m going to the hospital to see her. I want to see my nephew.”

“Congratulations,” Lucas yawned, stretching. “When will you go?”

“I’m getting ready now.” Sarah paused, looking at him. “Don’t you want to come?”

He shook his head as he stood. “No. I have to go to work early today. And what would I do there anyway? Men aren’t allowed in the maternity ward. Go ahead—pass on my congratulations.”

Sarah nodded. She wasn’t offended. Lucas had never been particularly close to her family—polite, of course, but somehow distant. He was private, not very talkative. When they met three years ago at a mutual friend’s corporate party, that calmness had been what attracted her: reliability, steadiness, the absence of showy emotion.

She dressed quickly—jeans, a warm sweater, a jacket over it. It was still chilly outside, though it was mid-April. Sarah grabbed her bag, shoved her wallet and phone inside, and glanced into the kitchen where Lucas had already turned on the kettle. “I’m off,” she said.

“Go ahead,” Lucas replied, then unexpectedly turned and came over to wrap his arms around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. It’s all fine.”

“I’m not worried,” Sarah said softly. “I’m happy.” She leaned into him for a second, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Well, that’s great,” Lucas said, letting her go. “See you tonight.”

Outside, the air was fresh and empty. The city was just waking up, and the sky in the east was beginning to lighten. Sarah walked to the bus stop and got on the first minibus heading toward the city center. She needed to stop by a baby store first—she couldn’t show up empty-handed.

On the minibus, she took out her phone and opened her chat with Olivia. The last message was two days old: Sarah, I’m already like an elephant. I can’t wait for this bubble to come out. Sarah had replied then with a smiley and a few words of patience. Now she typed, Olivia, congratulations. I’ll be there soon. I want to see the baby. How are you? How did everything go? No reply. Her sister was probably sleeping, or her phone was off.

Sarah leaned back and looked out the window. The streets outside still seemed half asleep—few passersby, closed shops, the occasional car. She thought of Olivia and how close they’d been as children. The age gap was only four years, and Sarah, as the older sister, had always looked after the younger: walking her to school, helping with homework, defending her in front of their parents when Olivia got into trouble. Olivia had been lively and restless, always finding some new chaos. Sarah had been quiet, obedient, proper.

Then they grew up. Sarah graduated from university and got a job as an accountant at a construction company. It wasn’t exactly her dream, but it was stable and paid reasonably well. She rented an apartment, saved up for her own place, and then her grandmother passed away—leaving her a three-room apartment in an old building not far from the city center. The inheritance didn’t come easily. There were disputes with distant relatives, but in the end, the apartment went to Sarah. Her grandmother had always said she would leave her home to her granddaughter because Sarah helped her, visited every week, and took her to the doctors.

By then, Olivia was already working as an administrator at a beauty salon, renting a room with a friend. The sisters saw each other rarely. Each had her own life, her own responsibilities. They called and sometimes met at family gatherings, but the closeness they’d had as children had faded. Sarah sometimes felt sad about it, but she understood. People grow up and drift apart.

Two years ago, Sarah married Lucas. He moved into her apartment. He had only a small one-bedroom on the outskirts, which he rented out for extra income. The wedding was modest—about thirty guests. Olivia was the maid of honor, laughing, drinking champagne, saying Sarah was lucky to have such a husband.

After the wedding, Olivia started visiting more often—sometimes just for tea, sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone. Sarah was happy. Maybe the sisters would grow close again. They would sit in the kitchen and talk about work and Olivia’s personal life, which was full of romances and breakups. Olivia laughed, told jokes, complained about men. Lucas usually stayed in his room at the computer, saying women’s conversations didn’t interest him.

Then, about a year ago, Olivia suddenly announced she was pregnant. Sarah didn’t even know her sister had anyone serious in her life. It turned out she had been seeing a guy named Richard for three months. The pregnancy was unexpected, but Olivia decided to go through with it. “I’m already twenty-eight,” she said then, sitting in Sarah’s kitchen and holding a cup of tea to her lips. “It’s time. Richard doesn’t mind,” she added. “We’ll get married after the baby is born.”

But Richard disappeared for some reason after about two months. He just vanished—stopped answering calls. Olivia cried, and Sarah comforted her. Their parents took their younger daughter in, but Olivia was uneasy. She constantly argued with her mother, saying she was being smothered by care. Sarah offered for her to stay with her and Lucas—there was plenty of space in the three-room apartment—but Olivia refused, saying she didn’t want to intrude on the young couple. So she lived with her parents until the birth.

The minibus stopped in the city center. Sarah got out and headed to the baby store, which was already opening. Inside, it smelled of new toys and baby cosmetics. Her eyes darted across the variety: tiny onesies, hats with ears, soft toys, rattles, bottles.

“Can I help you, miss?” a saleswoman asked, approaching with a friendly smile.

“Yes,” Sarah said. “I need a gift for a newborn. A boy was just born.”

The saleswoman nodded and began showing options. Sarah chose a soft plush teddy bear, a set of three onesies with funny slogans, and a pretty rattle. Then she picked up a box of chocolates for Olivia—her sister had always loved sweets. After paying, Sarah left with a bag of gifts, feeling light and joyful. A nephew. A tiny person who hadn’t even existed yesterday and now was here. She imagined holding him in her arms, watching him grow, taking his first steps, saying his first words. Maybe she would become the favorite aunt—the one who spoiled him with gifts and protected him from parental scoldings.

Sarah took out her phone and dialed Lucas. He didn’t pick up immediately; he answered on the fifth ring, his voice slightly irritated. “Lucas, I bought the gifts. I’m going to the hospital. Are you at work already?”

“I’m on my way,” he said. “Listen, I’ll call you back.”

“Okay,” Sarah said. “I’m walking now.”

“All right. I’ll hear about everything tonight.”

“Uh-huh. Bye.” He hung up.

Sarah put her phone back in her pocket. Lucas had never been very talkative, especially in the mornings. No matter. The walk was about twenty minutes. She didn’t rush, enjoying the morning as the city woke: shops opening, people on sidewalks, café lights flicking on. Sarah thought that maybe soon she and Lucas would have a child of their own. They weren’t in a hurry, but they weren’t being especially careful either. Whatever happens, happens. Lucas said he wanted children, but later—when they earned more, when he got a promotion at work.

Sarah sometimes imagined herself as a mother. She liked watching young women with strollers at playgrounds where little children played, but she was also afraid. What if she couldn’t handle it? What if she wasn’t a good mother? She had no real experience except taking care of Olivia when Olivia was little—and back then Sarah herself had been a child. Still, now she felt ready: a stable job, her own apartment, her husband nearby. Maybe it really was time to think seriously. The thought made her happy. When she saw Olivia with the baby, she would definitely tell her about her plans. Her sister would probably be glad. The children would grow up together—maybe even become friends.

Sarah turned onto a familiar street. The maternity hospital was already near, its gray walls visible beyond the trees—an old building, a little shabby, but with a good reputation. Sarah knew she had been born in this hospital. Her mother later told her the birth had been difficult—more than a day of labor. Olivia’s, however, had been quick: just three hours.

A few people were already gathered at the hospital gate, presumably there to visit relatives too—women with bags, one man with a huge bouquet of roses. Everyone was waiting for visiting hours to begin. Sarah checked her watch. Still half an hour. She leaned against the fence and placed the gift bag on the ground. Her legs were tired from walking. She wanted to sit, but there were no benches nearby.

She took out her phone, intending to scroll through the news, but noticed the battery was almost dead. She should have charged it in the morning. Near the gate, on a small concrete pedestal, sat a young woman—about twenty—wearing a bright long skirt and a worn jacket. She had a bundle wrapped in a faded blanket in her arms: a baby. On the ground in front of her sat a cardboard box with a few coins.

Sarah looked away. She had never liked giving too much to street beggars. Rumor had it that babies were sometimes used as props, that children were rented for begging, that pity was a tool for extorting money. But today her heart was so light, so joyful from the news of her nephew that she felt a surge of generosity. She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and found a few coins—about twenty cents, no more. Walking past, she tossed them into the box. They clinked.

“Thank you, beautiful,” the young woman muttered without looking up.

Sarah nodded and started toward the gate where the other visitors stood. Then the woman suddenly stood and stepped directly in front of her, blocking the way. Sarah flinched and stepped back. The woman stood so close Sarah could see every wrinkle on her dark face, every crease on her worn jacket. The baby in the blanket didn’t move, probably sleeping.

“Excuse me—you—” Sarah began, but the woman grabbed her wrist. Her fingers were strong, gripping tightly. Sarah tried to pull away, but the hold didn’t loosen.

“Let me go,” Sarah said, raising her voice. She glanced toward the others by the gate, but they stood a little apart, talking among themselves, paying no attention.

“Wait here,” the woman said quietly, her voice smoky.

“What?” Sarah frowned, pulling again. “Let go. I need to see my sister.”

“Wait.” The woman pressed harder. “Five minutes. Just wait.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Irritation boiled up in Sarah. It was obvious what this was—some kind of scam, a setup to demand money, a promise of fortune-telling, a prediction sold for cash. A classic street trick.

“I don’t have time,” Sarah snapped. “Let go of my hand.”

The woman didn’t let go. She looked at Sarah with dark, almost black eyes, and in that gaze there was something Sarah hadn’t expected—neither greed nor cunning, but something else. Sympathy. Pity.

“Five minutes,” the woman repeated. “Stand right here. Don’t go anywhere.”

“What are you talking about?” Sarah looked around for someone who might help. The man with the roses had his back turned, talking on the phone. The women were engrossed in their own conversation. There was no security guard at the gate.

“Listen to me.” The woman leaned closer. She smelled of cheap cigarettes and something sour, unwashed. “I’m not after money. Just wait five minutes.”

Sarah swallowed. Her throat had gone dry. She tried again to pull her hand away, but the woman’s fingers seemed fused to her wrist. It didn’t hurt, but it was very tight. “Are you trying to scare me?” Sarah asked quietly, a chill sliding down her spine.

“I’ll let you go. In five minutes. Just stand here and look over there.” The woman nodded toward the side of the building.

Sarah followed her gaze. On the side wall was another door—a service exit, probably—just a regular metal door, closed.

“Why should I look there?” Sarah asked.

“Just look.” The woman stepped back half a pace but still didn’t release her hand. “You’ll see soon.”

Sarah’s heart began to beat faster. It was ridiculous, absurd—standing outside a maternity hospital holding hands with a stranger who told her to stare at a door and wait. Maybe it was a prank, or maybe the woman was simply unwell. “Listen,” Sarah said, trying to keep her voice calm though anxiety tightened in her chest. “I don’t understand what’s happening. If you want money, I can give more. Just let me go.”

“I don’t want your money.” The woman shook her head. The baby in her arms stirred slightly and whimpered. She began rocking it automatically without taking her eyes off Sarah. “Just wait.”

The minute dragged unbearably. Sarah stood there with the woman’s fingers still locked around her wrist, staring at the side door of the maternity ward, not understanding what she was supposed to see. People at the main entrance were still talking, not paying them any attention. A car passed in the distance, honking its horn.

“How much longer?” Sarah asked, irritation giving way to dull fear.

“Soon,” the woman murmured. “Any moment now.”

Sarah looked again. Nothing. The door was closed, the area empty. She glanced back at the woman, ready to demand she stop, but the woman suddenly squeezed her hand.

“Look.”

The side door opened. A man in jeans and a dark jacket stepped out, holding a bundle—a baby wrapped in a pink blanket.

Sarah squinted, staring. The man was tall and athletic, with dark hair. Her heart sank.

It was Lucas.

Her husband—Lucas—who half an hour ago had said he was going to work.

Sarah froze, unable to move. She watched him carefully holding the blanket, something wriggling inside: a newborn. For a split second she tried to convince herself she was mistaken, that it only looked like him, that it was coincidence—but then a woman stepped out behind him.

Light curly hair. Blue eyes. A familiar face.

Olivia.

Her sister—the one who was supposed to be in her room, exhausted after giving birth, the one Sarah had been rushing to visit.

The ground slipped from under Sarah. She grabbed the fence with her free hand to keep from falling. Her breathing turned rapid and shallow. Her vision blurred.

“Breathe,” the woman said softly, finally releasing Sarah’s wrist. “Just breathe.”

Sarah couldn’t take her eyes off them. Lucas and Olivia stood by the side exit talking. Lucas said something, smiling down at the baby. Olivia laughed and adjusted the blanket. They looked like a family—like a happy couple with a newborn child.

No. No. This is impossible. This can’t be.

Sarah took a step forward, wanting to approach, to shout, to demand an explanation, but her legs wouldn’t obey, as if filled with lead. The woman quietly stepped aside and disappeared somewhere behind her.

Lucas leaned over the baby, kissed its forehead, then handed the bundle to Olivia. She took the child, holding it close, and they walked toward the parking lot. Sarah forced herself to move. She followed, keeping close to the wall of the maternity ward, trying not to lose sight of them. Her head spun. Her ears rang. She stumbled and almost fell, clutching the corner of the building.

Lucas and Olivia stopped by a black car. Sarah recognized it immediately. It was Lucas’s car. He opened the back door and helped Olivia get in with the baby. They were talking about something. Sarah was too far away to hear, but she could see their faces.

Lucas smiled. Olivia smiled too.

Happy. Content.

Sarah stepped closer, hiding behind a tree. Her heart hammered like it wanted to leap out of her chest. Her hands shook as she pressed her palms against the trunk, feeling rough bark under her fingers. And then she heard Olivia’s voice, clear enough to cut through the ringing in Sarah’s ears.

“Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything to her. I’ll say I have nowhere to go with the baby—that my parents kicked me out.”

“What if she doesn’t let you?” Lucas’s voice sounded tense.

“She will let us in,” Olivia laughed. “She’s my sister. She won’t leave me with the baby out on the street. And then it’ll be easier from there.”

“Are you sure?” Lucas asked, still uncertain.

“Of course. Listen, I told you—her apartment is three rooms, inherited from Grandma. Only her name’s on it. We just need to settle in there and then—”

Sarah held her breath.

“And then what?” Lucas asked.

“Then we kick her out,” Olivia said easily, as if she were talking about the weather. “I consulted a lawyer. If we register ourselves there, it’ll be harder for them to evict us, and then maybe we can get something through the court. I have a baby now. The law says I’m entitled to housing. She’s young and alone—let her find somewhere else to live.”

Sarah clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Cold sweat spread across her skin. She was hearing the words, but her mind refused to accept that they came from Olivia—Olivia, the sister Sarah had loved, protected, helped all her life.

“What if she refuses to register us?” Lucas asked cautiously.

“She will.” Olivia’s tone turned almost smug. “You know Sarah—she’s soft. Convenient. I’ll press her with pity, cry, say I have nowhere to go with the baby. She’ll fall for it. She always does. The key is to present it right.”

“All right,” Lucas sighed. “I just don’t want problems. I need that apartment. I’m tired of living on her territory.”

“I understand.” Olivia rested her head on his shoulder. “Soon everything will be different. We’ll live together. You, me, and our son. And let Sarah go wherever she wants.”

Our son.

Those two words hit Sarah like a blow. Something inside her broke—collapsed. The baby Olivia had given birth to wasn’t Richard’s child. It was Lucas’s child—her husband’s—and her sister’s.

How long had this been going on? Six months? A year? More?

Sarah remembered Olivia visiting often after the wedding. Lucas shutting himself in his room when Olivia was there. Olivia announcing the pregnancy and then Richard disappearing. Maybe Richard never existed. Maybe all this time—

Sarah’s head spun. She pressed her forehead to the tree, fighting nausea. Breathing became difficult, as if air couldn’t reach her lungs.

“How are you holding up?” Lucas asked Olivia. “Not tired?”

“I’m fine. I want to go home.”

“More precisely, to your home,” Lucas said, and Olivia laughed. “To our home?”

“Soon?” Lucas hugged her. “Hang on a little longer. I’ll take you to your parents now. You’ll rest a couple of days, and then we start the operation to evict Sarah.”

They both laughed. Standing by the car with the baby, embracing, they laughed at their plan to kick Sarah out of her own apartment.

Sarah recoiled from the tree. Her legs finally obeyed. She turned and walked away fast—almost running—past the main entrance of the maternity ward, past the people still waiting at the gates for visiting hours to begin, past the spot where the woman had been sitting. The woman was gone.

Sarah walked without noticing the road. Tears blurred her eyes, but she didn’t wipe them. She kept going, clutching the bag of gifts for her nephew: a plush bear, clothes, a rattle—for the child who turned out to be her husband’s and her sister’s son. At the bus stop, she got on a minibus without looking at where it was going. She sat by the window and stared at the glass while the city slid past—buildings, streets, people—everything unreal, like a bad dream.

In her head, their words spun: We’ll kick her out. We’ll live together. Let Sarah go wherever she wants.

Her sister—her own sister, the one Sarah had taken to school, helped with homework, defended from parental scoldings—and Lucas, her husband, the man she had led into her life, her apartment, her bed. The two closest people in her life had conspired against her.

The minibus reached the last stop. Sarah got off and walked. The house was far, but she didn’t want to take transport. She wanted to move, to walk, not to think. But thoughts kept invading anyway—detail after detail she’d ignored or excused. How Lucas had grown colder in recent months. How he stayed late at work more often. How he avoided intimacy, citing fatigue. How Olivia looked at him during their meetings. Sarah had thought she imagined it.

Now everything added up. All the pieces of the mosaic formed a disgusting picture.

Sarah reached home, climbed to the third floor, took out her keys, and opened the door. The apartment was quiet and empty. Lucas hadn’t returned yet—he was taking Olivia and the baby to her parents. Sarah went into the room and dropped the bag of gifts onto the couch. The plush bear tumbled out and stared at her with black, glassy eyes.

She sank to the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and buried her face in them. Only then did she allow herself to cry. She didn’t know how long she sat there—an hour, maybe more. The tears dried up, but inside remained emptiness: cold and heavy, like a chunk of ice lodged in her chest.

Sarah got up and went to the window. Outside, an ordinary day continued. People hurried about their business. Cars passed by. Somewhere, children laughed. The world kept moving as if nothing had happened, but for Sarah everything had changed.

She stepped back from the window and looked at the apartment with different eyes: a three-room flat in an old building not far from the city center—high ceilings, parquet floors, spacious rooms. Her grandmother had left this place to her four years earlier. Sarah remembered sitting with her in the kitchen shortly before her grandmother’s death, hearing her say, “Sarah, you’re the only one who took care of me. The apartment will be yours. The documents are with the notary. Everything is taken care of. Just don’t tell anyone while I’m still alive, or the relatives will swarm in and start demanding their share.”

Back then Sarah brushed it off, saying her grandmother would get better, that it was too early to think about such things. But her grandmother only shook her head and squeezed Sarah’s hand tighter. After the funeral, distant relatives really did appear—people who hadn’t remembered her grandmother while she was alive. They tried to contest the will, filed complaints, went to court, but the documents were in order. In the end, the apartment remained Sarah’s.

Back then, Olivia had said, “You’re lucky, big sister. I’m happy for you.” And now she wanted to take it away.

Sarah went into the bedroom and opened the wardrobe. On the top shelf sat a box of documents. She pulled it down, spilled the contents onto the bed—ownership certificate, privatization agreement, other papers—and went through them line by line. The apartment was registered solely in her name. They hadn’t bought it together. Lucas hadn’t invested in the renovation. His one-room flat on the outskirts was still his property. He rented it out and received income from it.

Sarah put the documents back, hid the box in the wardrobe, then took out her phone. Her hands were shaking, but she forced herself to act calmly and methodically. First, she opened her chat with Lucas and reread the last message—nothing suspicious. Ordinary everyday lines: Buy bread. I’ll be late at work. What’s for dinner? No hint that he was having an affair with her sister.

But Lucas often left his phone at home. He said he didn’t like carrying it all the time; it distracted him from work.

Sarah stood and went into the living room. Lucas’s tablet lay on the coffee table. He used it rarely, mostly for watching movies. Sarah picked it up and turned it on. There was no password—Lucas never put protection on a home device. She opened the messenger and immediately saw a chat with Olivia.

Sarah sat on the couch, her heart pounding wildly again, and began to read.

The messages dated back to last year. The oldest one was from June.

Lucas, I can’t stop thinking about you.
Olivia, this is madness. But I can’t either.
When will we see each other?
Sarah will go to her parents for the weekend. Come over.

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat and kept scrolling. There was more—much more—photos. Lucas and Olivia embracing. Olivia in lingerie. Lucas shirtless. They were kissing. They were in bed—in her bed, in her apartment. The messages grew more and more explicit.

I can’t wait until we live together.
Soon, my sunshine. Hold on.
And what about Sarah?
We’ll deal with it. The main thing is not to get caught for now.

Sarah kept reading. And with every message, what grew inside her was not pain, but rage—cold, calculated anger. She scrolled down to the recent messages. Here was the chat from the day before yesterday.

I think I’m giving birth tomorrow. The contractions have started.
Hang in there, my dear. I’ll be close by. And Sarah won’t find out.
No, I’ll say I’m at work. She’ll go to you during the day after the birth, and I’ll take you out through the service exit. Everything is thought through.
I love you.
I love you too. At last, we’ll be together like a family.

Sarah turned off the tablet and set it back on the table. She sat staring at a single point while a clear, coherent plan formed in her mind. She would not make a scene. She would not scream, cry, or beg. They wanted her apartment. They wanted to throw her out. They would get nothing.

Sarah stood, walked to her home computer, turned it on, went online, and began searching for lawyers who specialized in housing disputes, family law, divorce, eviction of registered residents. She read articles, studied court cases, and wrote down important points on a piece of paper. She learned that the property owner has the right to evict a registered person if they are not a family member—and after the divorce, Lucas would no longer be considered a family member.

Sarah found the contacts of several law firms and chose one with good reviews and extensive experience in housing disputes. She wrote down the phone number. Then she found the website of a security agency. She would need security when she evicted Lucas and Olivia from the apartment. They wouldn’t leave voluntarily. That was certain—especially Olivia, who would play on sympathy, cry, scream. Sarah knew her sister well, and she wrote down that number too.

She glanced at the clock. Half past two. Lucas usually returned around seven. No—not from work. He hadn’t even been going there. He would come back after taking Olivia and the baby to her parents and pretending he’d been busy with errands.

Sarah had time.

She picked up the phone and dialed the law firm. “Consultation department, Shield,” a male voice answered.

“Good afternoon. I need urgent advice on a housing issue.” Sarah was surprised at how calm and firm her voice sounded.

“Let me check. We’ll have a lawyer available in an hour. Will that work?”

“That works. I’ll come.”

She wrote down the address, hung up, then called the security agency and arranged a meeting for tomorrow morning.

Sarah stood, approached the mirror in the hallway, and looked at her reflection. Pale face. Eyes red from crying. Hair messy. She washed her face with cold water, composed herself, brushed her hair, put on clean clothes, grabbed the bag with the apartment documents and her phone, and left the house.

On the way to the lawyer, Sarah forced herself not to think about the pain, not to think about the betrayal—only about actions, step by step. The law firm was in a business center a ten-minute walk from her home. Sarah went up to the third floor and entered the reception area. The secretary, a young woman in a formal suit, smiled.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes, at three.”

“Sarah? Please come in. Office number five is at the end of the corridor.”

Sarah walked down the corridor and knocked. “Come in,” a voice said from inside. She entered. Behind the desk sat a man of about fifty, wearing glasses, his hair graying at the temples.

“Good afternoon. Please have a seat,” he said, pointing to the chair opposite. “My name is Gregory. I’m listening.”

Sarah sat and placed the documents on the desk. “I need to evict my husband from my apartment and file for divorce.”

Gregory nodded, took the documents, and began reviewing them. “Tell me the situation in more detail.”

Sarah spoke briefly, without emotion: the apartment she had inherited; how Lucas was registered there but not the owner; how he was cheating on her with her sister; how they planned to kick her out of her own apartment. Gregory listened attentively, nodding. When she finished, he set the documents aside and looked at her over his glasses.

“The situation is unpleasant, but solvable. Since the apartment is registered solely in your name and was inherited before the marriage, it is not marital property. Your husband has no rights to it. After the divorce, you can evict him through the court. The procedure will take from one to three months, depending on the circumstances.”

“Three months is a long time,” Sarah said. “During that time, they’ll try to carry out their plan.”

“What exactly is it?”

“My sister wants to move in with the child, register herself, and then sue for part of the apartment, claiming she has nowhere to go with the baby,” Sarah explained.

Gregory smirked. “A naive plan. Registration does not grant ownership. Even if they register, they can still be evicted through the court. It will take some time, but the outcome is predictable. The apartment is yours and will remain yours.”

“But I don’t want to wait a month while they live in my apartment.” Sarah clenched her fists. “I want them out now.”

Gregory thought for a moment, tapping his pen against the desk. “I understand. There is an option. You can change the locks and deny your husband access to the apartment. Formally, it’s not entirely legal, but if you immediately file for divorce and start the eviction process, the court will be on your side—especially given the circumstances: infidelity, and the attempt to seize your property. Do you have evidence?”

“Yes,” Sarah said. “Correspondence on my husband’s tablet. I can take screenshots.”

“Excellent. Make copies of all evidence. The more the better. Photos of the messages—if there are voice recordings, everything will help. What about your sister? She’ll try to come, claiming she has nowhere to go with the child.”

“Don’t let her in,” Gregory said simply. “It’s your apartment. You decide who enters. She’s not registered there. She doesn’t have keys. If she tries to break in, call the police.”

Sarah nodded, writing it all down.

“When can we start the divorce process?”

“Even tomorrow. I’ll prepare the documents, you’ll sign them, and we’ll file the lawsuit. At the same time, we’ll submit an application for your husband’s eviction. Given the circumstances, the process will go quickly.”

“Good,” Sarah said. “Prepare everything, please. I’ll come tomorrow morning.”

“Agreed. Any other questions?”

“No. Thank you.”

Sarah paid for the consultation, took Gregory’s business card, and left. Outside, it was dark. She checked the clock—six. Lucas would be home soon. She walked slowly, thinking through the next steps. Today she wouldn’t take any action. She would behave as usual: ask how work was, cook dinner, go to bed beside him as if nothing had happened. Tomorrow she would start acting.

Sarah returned home and opened the door. The lights were on. Lucas was already there. She heard the TV in the living room.

“Is that you?” he called.

“Yes.” Sarah took off her jacket, hung it on the rack, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was calm, almost indifferent. Good.

She stepped into the living room. Lucas sat on the couch watching an action movie. He turned and looked at her. “So—how’s my sister? The baby?”

Sarah stopped in the doorway and looked at him. He was smiling—an ordinary smile, nothing special—as if the morning hadn’t happened. As if he hadn’t stood at the maternity hospital with Olivia and their child, discussing how to evict Sarah from her own apartment.

“I didn’t go there,” Sarah said evenly.

Lucas frowned. “Why? Did something happen?”

“I felt unwell on the way. My head hurt. I decided to come home and rest. I’ll go tomorrow.”

“I see.” Lucas nodded, already losing interest, and turned back to the TV. “Will there be anything for dinner?”

“I’ll cook now,” Sarah replied.

She went into the kitchen, took chicken and vegetables from the fridge, started chopping, and turned on the stove. Her hands moved automatically while her mind stayed with the plan: tomorrow she would meet the security guard, sign documents with the lawyer, call a locksmith, change the locks. When Lucas returned in the evening, he wouldn’t be able to enter. His belongings would be by the door, and inside—behind the new lock—Sarah would be waiting, with the security guard close by as a precaution.

Sarah stirred the vegetables in the pan and smiled. Tomorrow a new life would begin.

The next morning, Sarah woke early, before the alarm. Lucas slept beside her, snoring. She got up quietly, dressed, went to the kitchen, made coffee, and sat by the window. The city was waking. A trolleybus passed by. Someone walked a dog below. Today, everything would change.

At seven, Lucas came out of the bedroom already dressed. “I’m leaving,” he said, fastening his jacket.

“Have a good day,” Sarah said, not lifting her eyes from her cup.

The door slammed shut. Sarah counted to a hundred, then stood and went to the window. Below, Lucas got into his car, started the engine, and drove away.

Sarah took out her phone and dialed the law firm. “Good morning, Gregory. This is Sarah. I was at your office yesterday. Are the documents ready?”

“They’re ready. You can come by anytime.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Her next call was to the security agency. “Yes, we remember. What time do you need an officer?”

“Six in the evening,” Sarah said. “I gave the address yesterday.”

“Got it. Our person will be Oscar—experienced and reliable.”

Sarah got dressed fully and took her bag. On the way, she stopped at an ATM and withdrew cash; she would need to pay both the security guard and the locksmith. Then she went to Gregory’s office. He greeted her with a folder.

“Everything’s ready—the divorce petition and the eviction request. You just need to sign. We’ll file them in court today.”

Sarah took the pen and signed all the papers. Her hand didn’t tremble.

“Good,” Gregory said, placing the documents away. “Now we wait for the summons. But keep in mind—during the process, your husband may try to interfere, threaten, pressure you. Be prepared.”

“I’m ready.”

“And one more thing—change the locks today. Don’t delay. The sooner the better.”

Sarah nodded. She already had the locksmith service number from yesterday. She called them right there from the lawyer’s office.

“I can be there in two hours,” the locksmith said. “What’s the address?”

Sarah dictated it.

“Got it. What kind of lock are we installing?”

“A reliable one—so it can’t be broken into.”

“Understood. Two hours. Wait for me at home.”

Sarah returned home and began packing Lucas’s things methodically, without haste. Clothes from the closets. Suitcase. Shoes. Razor. Toothbrush. Books from his shelf—everything that belonged to him. Two large suitcases filled quickly. Sarah carried them to the hallway and set them by the door, then looked around the apartment. Without his belongings, it seemed more spacious, brighter, as if a weight had been lifted.

The doorbell rang. The locksmith had arrived early—a man of about forty, not very tall, with a toolbox.

“Hello. Here to change the lock.”

“Yes,” Sarah said, pointing at the front door. “This one.”

The locksmith crouched, inspected the lock, and shook his head. “The old one is completely worn. It would snap easily if anyone tried. We’ll install a good cylinder lock. Even a professional would have a hard time with this one.”

“Go ahead,” Sarah said.

He took out his tools and began working. Sarah stood nearby, watching. The old lock came out quickly; the new one took longer. The locksmith measured, adjusted, tested.

“All done,” he said at last, straightening and handing her two keys. “Check them.”

Sarah inserted one key and turned it. The lock clicked smoothly, securely. She opened the door, closed it again. Everything worked perfectly.

“How much?” she asked.

After paying, Sarah saw him out and locked the door with the new lock. Then she sat on the couch and looked at the clock. Half past three—two and a half hours until the security guard arrived.

She took out her phone, then grabbed Lucas’s tablet from the coffee table. She took screenshots of all the messages with Olivia—photos, chats, dates—and sent them to her email. Then she erased all traces: cleared the history, closed the messenger.

Her phone buzzed: a message from her mother.

Sarah, are you going to Olivia’s today? She’s asking.

Sarah smirked, wondering what Olivia had told their parents—probably that Sarah promised to come but didn’t show up. She typed back: Can’t today, Mom. Busy. Maybe tomorrow.

Then she put her phone on silent. Today she wouldn’t talk to anyone—only to Lucas.

At exactly six in the evening, the doorbell rang. Sarah looked through the peephole. A large man in a black jacket stood on the landing, hair cropped short.

“Oscar,” he said when Sarah opened the door. “From the protection agency.”

“Come in.”

Oscar stepped inside, looked around, nodded when he saw the suitcases by the door. “Here’s the plan. Your husband will come and try to get in. His key won’t work. He’ll start calling, knocking. You open the door. I’ll be nearby. You explain the situation and hand over his belongings. If he starts threatening or using force, I’ll intervene. Is everything clear?”

“Clear.”

“Good. We wait.”

They sat in the living room. Sarah turned on the TV for background noise but didn’t watch. Oscar silently scrolled through something on his phone. Time dragged.

At seven, a key slid into the lock. It turned. The door didn’t open. It turned again, harder. Silence. Then the doorbell rang.

Sarah stood. Oscar stood too, slightly behind her. Sarah approached the door and looked through the peephole. Lucas was on the landing, gloomy and irritated.

“Sarah, open the door,” he shouted. “What the hell is wrong with the lock?”

Sarah opened the door, but not all the way—she kept the chain on. She looked at her husband through the narrow gap. “I changed the lock,” she said calmly. “You don’t live here anymore.”

Lucas froze, staring at her in confusion.

“I know everything,” Sarah continued. “About you and Olivia. About the child. About your plans to kick me out of my own apartment.”

Lucas’s face went pale. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Sarah, I—It’s not what you think—”

“Don’t lie.” Sarah took out her phone and held up a screenshot of the messages. “I saw everything. I heard everything yesterday morning near the maternity hospital.”

Lucas stepped forward and tried to push the door. The chain went taut and stopped it from opening.

“Sarah, open the door now.”

“No.” Sarah stepped back. “Your things are by the door. Take them and leave.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Lucas snarled. “This is my apartment.”

“No,” Sarah said, steady. “This is my apartment. Mine alone. I inherited it from my grandmother. You’re only registered here, and tomorrow the documents for your eviction will be filed with the court. But today you’re moving out.”

Lucas yanked the door harder. The chain clinked but held. “I’ll smash this door in right now. Do you hear me?”

Oscar stepped forward so Lucas could see him clearly. “I wouldn’t advise it,” Oscar said calmly. “Damage to someone else’s property and unlawful entry into a residence. Want to face criminal charges?”

Lucas froze, staring at the security guard. “Who is that?”

“Security,” Sarah answered, crossing her arms. “In case you decide to do something.”

“You don’t have the right,” Lucas hissed.

“I do,” Sarah replied. “This is my apartment.”

He stood there breathing heavily, face flushed, hands clenched into fists. Finally he spat, “Fine. Fine, Sarah. You’ll regret this.”

“I don’t think so.”

Sarah removed the chain and swung the door open. Oscar rolled the suitcases out onto the landing. Lucas looked at them, then at Sarah.

“You’re destroying our family,” Lucas said more quietly.

“You destroyed it,” Sarah replied. “When you climbed into bed with my sister.”

Lucas’s jaw tightened. “Olivia said you didn’t mind—that you’d discussed everything.”

Sarah smirked. “And you believed that?”

“Of course I did.” Lucas’s voice turned bitter. “Convenient, isn’t it?”

He grabbed one suitcase and dragged it toward the stairs, then turned back. “I’ll take you to court. I’ll get half of this apartment.”

“Go ahead,” Sarah said with a shrug. “The apartment was mine before the marriage. You have no rights to it. Ask your lawyer—since you consulted him.”

Lucas cursed, grabbed the second suitcase, and disappeared down the hallway. The stairwell swallowed the sound of his footsteps. A moment later, the building’s door slammed.

Sarah closed her door, turned the key in the new lock, and pressed her forehead against the cold metal. Her legs felt weak; her hands trembled. But inside there was relief—heavy, exhausting relief.

“Everything okay?” Oscar asked.

“Yes,” Sarah said, straightening. “Will you stay another twenty minutes, just in case he comes back?”

“Of course. I’ll be at the door.”

The next half hour passed in silence. Lucas did not return. Sarah sat in the kitchen, sipping water in small gulps, her hands still shaking. At eight, Oscar said goodbye and left.

Sarah was alone. She sat on the sofa, hugging her knees.

Her phone vibrated. A message from Olivia.

Sarah, Lucas and I were thinking… maybe I could move in with you for a while with the baby. My parents are driving me crazy. Can I?

Sarah stared at the screen, then typed: No, Olivia, you can’t. I know about you and Lucas. I know about the child and your plans regarding my apartment. Don’t write to me again.

She sent it, then blocked her sister’s number.

A minute later the phone rang. Mom. Sarah didn’t answer. Then another call. Another. She silenced the phone and set it face down.

Tomorrow there would be calls, questions, yelling. Her parents would side with Olivia. She’s the younger one. She has nowhere to go with the baby. How can someone be so cruel? Sarah knew it would be like that, but it no longer mattered.

She got up, walked through the apartment, and turned on the lights in every room. In the bedroom, she removed the bedding Lucas had slept on and replaced it with fresh sheets. She took out the trash, opened the windows to air the room. Then she sat at the computer and opened a folder of photos—wedding pictures, trips, holidays. Olivia smiled in so many of them, hugging Sarah like a loving sister.

Sarah deleted all the photos with Lucas. Everything with Olivia. She kept only the childhood photos from long ago, when they were still close.

She went to bed late, lying in the dark for a long time, staring at the ceiling and thinking about what would happen next. The divorce would go quickly, Gregory promised. Lucas had moved out and taken his things. Olivia now lived with the baby at their parents’ house. Sarah would start a new life in her apartment, left to her by her grandmother—alone.

Two weeks later, a court summons arrived. Sarah went with Gregory. Lucas sat on the other side of the courtroom, sullen, without a lawyer. The judge read the claim: the plaintiff requests dissolution of the marriage and the eviction of the defendant from the apartment, which is her property.

“Are there any objections?” the judge asked.

Lucas stood up. “Yes. I invested money in this apartment—did renovations, bought furniture. I have the right to compensation.”

Gregory rose. “Your honor, we have evidence that the defendant did not contribute to the apartment renovations. All receipts and invoices are in the plaintiff’s name. The furniture was also purchased with her funds.”

The judge reviewed the documents. “No proof of contributions from the defendant has been presented. Additionally, the case file contains evidence of the defendant’s affair with the plaintiff’s sister. Anything to add?”

Lucas remained silent.

“Marriage dissolved,” the judge said. “Defendant to be evicted from the apartment within ten days. Court is adjourned.”

Sarah walked down the street afterward with a strange sensation inside her—not joy, not sadness, just emptiness. But it wasn’t heavy the way it had been before. It was light, as if a backpack she’d carried for a long time had finally been lifted off her shoulders. She went into a café, ordered coffee, sat by the window, and watched passersby. Life went on. People hurried about their business, laughed, talked. The world hadn’t stopped for her divorce.

A month later, Sarah was returning home from work with a bag of groceries in her hand, fatigue in her legs. She turned toward her building and suddenly saw a familiar figure near the gates of the maternity ward. The same young woman sat in the same spot, a baby in her arms, a cardboard box for money at her feet.

Sarah stopped, standing there for a moment, just looking. Then she approached.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” the woman replied, nodding.

Sarah sat down beside her. “I wanted to thank you for stopping me back then. If it weren’t for you…” Sarah’s voice trembled.

The woman rocked the baby. “I had seen them before,” she said. “Saw him kissing her in the car. Saw it a few times when I was sitting here. I realized you didn’t know when I approached.”

“Why did you help me?” Sarah asked quietly. “You didn’t even know me.”

The woman smirked. “My sister took a husband from me too, long ago. I know what it feels like. I thought, at least give you some time to prepare. It’ll hurt less that way.”

Sarah pulled a few bills from her pocket and held them out. “Please take this.”

The woman shook her head. “No need.”

“Yes, there is,” Sarah said firmly, and placed the money into the box. “Thank you. Truly.”

The woman nodded.

Sarah stood and walked toward her building. Turning around once, she saw the woman watching her, rocking the baby.

At home, Sarah unpacked the groceries, prepared dinner, and sat by the window with a cup of tea. Outside, darkness was falling. City lights came on one by one. She thought about the past month—her mother’s calls, accusations, Olivia’s messages from unknown numbers, Lucas’s attempts to return and justify himself. Sarah hadn’t answered a single call, hadn’t let anyone back into her life.

She stood, went to the shelf, and took down a photo album. She opened it to the first page: little Sarah with Olivia in her arms. Here they were together at school. Here was Olivia’s graduation—Sarah beside her, hugging her sister’s shoulders. Sarah closed the album and returned it to the shelf.

The past stayed in the past. Ahead lay a new life—alone, but honest, without betrayal, without lies.

Sarah turned off the lights and went to bed. Outside, the city buzzed. Music played somewhere. Someone laughed. She closed her eyes and, for the first time in a long time, slept peacefully.

Peacefully.
Peacefully. Peacefully. Peacefully. Peacefully.
Peacefully.