— You are the husband of the former owner, — Sinitsyn said patiently. — Former. The ownership has been transferred to the new owner. If you want to dispute it, go to court. That is your right. But until a court decides otherwise, this is Ignat Romanovich’s property, and he is the boss here.
Sinitsyn walked over to the sofa where Ulyana was sitting and opened his notebook again.
— And who might you be, ma’am?
Ulyana blinked her eyes, looking lost and helpless.
— I’m Viktor’s sister… and I’m pregnant.
— I can see that. Where is the child’s father?
— He’s on a work rotation, in Poland.
— What’s his name?
— We broke up. By mutual agreement.
Sinitsyn raised an eyebrow:
— So, is he on a work rotation or did you break up?
— Well, he was always sort of temporary… — Ulyana got completely tangled up.
— Shut up, you fool, — Larisa Semyonovna hissed from the floor.
— We’ll sort it out later. — Sinitsyn imperturbably wrote something in his notebook and said aloud, as if dictating to himself: — Father of the child is temporarily absent on a permanent basis.
Yegor, Shcherbakov’s son, turned to the window, his shoulders shaking suspiciously. Even Viktor looked at his sister with bewilderment, as if for the first time considering what he had been dragged into.
Polina glanced at her watch.
— You have 30 minutes, — she said in a steady voice. — Pack your things.
The next half hour turned into a humiliating farce that none of those present would ever forget. Under the supervision of Sinitsyn and the new owners, Viktor, Larisa Semyonovna, and Ulyana stuffed their belongings into bags, getting tangled in their own possessions, dropping small items, and bumping into each other in the narrow corridor. The mother-in-law muttered under her breath, not caring if anyone heard: “Snake, warmed on our chest, ungrateful wretch…” Viktor silently folded the cot, his face ashen.
— I’m not supposed to get stressed, — Ulyana repeated, sitting on the sofa without moving. — The doctor said I’m not allowed.
Polina looked at her without a hint of sympathy.
— Your child is your responsibility, not mine.
The baby crib remained in the corner of the unfinished room — white, in its transparent packaging, needed by no one. Ignat Romanovich waved his hand:
— Let it stay. Yegor and his wife can use it, they’re planning to have children too.
The bags were packed. Viktor made one last attempt, his voice tinged with something like desperation:
— Polina, where are we supposed to go? It’s the middle of the night. Ulka is pregnant, she can’t be out in the cold.
— Market relations, Vitya, — Polina replied calmly. — You rented out your mother’s apartment, now rent a hotel. 22,000 hryvnias a month — that’s enough for a hostel.
And then Ulyana said quietly, but distinctly:
— She’s right.
Everyone turned to her. In the silence, you could hear water dripping from the faucet in the kitchen.
— Mom. She’s right. We went too far.
Larisa Semyonovna turned to her daughter, her face contorted with rage:
— You shut up! This is all because of you! Getting knocked up by a married man…
Ulyana flinched as if struck.
— I thought you were supporting me.
— I am supporting you! I told you three years ago: don’t get involved with a married man! You didn’t listen! Now deal with it!
The semblance of family unity crumbled before their eyes. In the stairwell, Larisa Semyonovna snatched her phone from her pocket and dialed a number with trembling hands…
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