At the end of December, Artem suddenly announced that he had quit his job. Just like that. He said he was tired, wanted to take a break, and would find something better after the New Year.
— What do you mean, you quit? — Kira couldn’t believe it. — We have no money.
— Well, that’s why we moved in with Mom. She’ll help.
Kira understood. He wasn’t even going to try. He would just shift everything onto his mother and her, if he could. That’s when she decided to act.
On December thirtieth, Kira woke up at six in the morning. She packed her last things, put them in a bag, and called a taxi for midnight, right after the clock struck twelve. She spent the whole day in a daze. Zhanna Borisovna was bustling in the kitchen, making Olivier salad and slicing sausage. Artem was lying on the sofa, watching some show. Kira sat in her room, sorting through documents. Two envelopes. The first contained the divorce application, which she would file at the registry office on January second. The second contained a printout of the extract from the Unified State Register of Real Estate for the apartment, confirming that Artem was the owner. Which meant that he was the one who could evict Zhanna Borisovna, if he wanted to.
At eleven in the evening, they sat down at the table. Zhanna Borisovna was pouring champagne, Artem was picking at his salad, Kira was silent. The clock showed five minutes to twelve. Zhanna Borisovna turned on the TV, the broadcast began.
Kira took out the envelopes. The clock began to chime. The first strike. Kira stood up.
— Happy New Year, Zhanna Borisovna!
Her mother-in-law turned, raising an eyebrow in surprise:
— And to you too, dear!
— Here is my gift for both of you! — Kira placed both envelopes on the table. — Divorce papers. And an extract from the State Register. So that you, Zhanna Borisovna, know whose apartment this really is.
Zhanna Borisovna snatched the first envelope, tore it open, and scanned it. Her face fell.
— What? Are you out of your mind?
Artem unfolded the second sheet — the extract from the USRRE. He read it. His face turned pale.
— What is this?
— It’s a document confirming that the apartment is yours. Which means you can evict your mother from it. I just wanted you to know, just in case.
Zhanna Borisovna jumped up:
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