“WHEN NATALIA ASKED HER PARENTS ABOUT THE APARTMENT, SHE NEVER EXPECTED HER BROTHER FYODOR TO SNAP—‘GO LIVE WITH HER IF YOU LOVE HER SO MUCH.’ THE ARGUMENT THAT FOLLOWED SHATTERED THE FAMILY AND EXPOSED DEEP RESENTMENTS YEARS IN THE MAKING.”

THE VISIT

Natalia arrived at her parents’ apartment in the late afternoon, clutching a heavy bag and shifting her weight on tired, swollen feet. Her mother, busy in the kitchen, waved her in with a reminder:

“Take your shoes off carefully, I just mopped the floors.”

The apartment smelled of fried potatoes and cutlets—her brother Fyodor’s favorite. He was expected home from a trip, and as always, their mother was preparing a feast for her youngest child.

Natalia, heavily pregnant, lowered herself onto the couch with a sigh. Her belly pressed against her loose dress.

Her father glanced over his glasses, setting aside his newspaper. “Are your legs swelling again? Maybe you should see a doctor?”

Natalia forced a smile. “It’s fine, Dad. Not the first time.”

But her hands trembled. She hadn’t come just to visit.

THE IDEA

“Listen,” she began, her voice tentative, “I wanted to discuss something… about the apartment.”

Her parents exchanged a quick glance. Natalia bit her lip.

“With the baby coming, things are hard. My husband and I are cramped in that small place. I thought—maybe—it might be possible to arrange something with the new apartment you bought…”

Her words trailed off into silence.

THE FAVORITISM

The air grew heavy.

Her parents looked at each other again, then at Natalia. Their expressions revealed guilt, hesitation, and something unspoken.

That’s when the front door opened. Fyodor walked in, his boots still dusty from travel, his face lighting up as the smell of fried food greeted him.

But the mood shifted instantly when he caught the tail end of Natalia’s words.

“The new apartment?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes. “What does she mean?”

THE CONFRONTATION

Natalia hesitated, but her mother spoke first. “We… we helped Natalia with an apartment, Fedyusha. She’s expecting a baby, you know. She needed it.”

Fyodor’s smile vanished. His jaw clenched.

“So it’s true. You bought an apartment for her?” His voice rose. “For the eldest daughter? And what about me?”

His mother stammered, “We planned to help you too, when the time comes. But Natalia needed it first—”

Fyodor cut her off, his face red with fury. “Then go live with her! If you care so much about Natalia, if you love her more, then don’t expect me to come back here!”

THE SILENCE

The words struck like a hammer.

Natalia sat frozen, her hand on her belly, eyes wide with shock. Her mother gasped, tears instantly welling. Her father’s newspaper trembled in his fists.

“Fyodor, don’t talk like that,” his father said firmly. “This is your home.”

But Fyodor’s rage had cracked open years of hidden resentment.

THE HIDDEN WOUNDS

“I’m always second!” Fyodor shouted. “When Natalia needed new clothes, you sacrificed for her. When she wanted to study, you saved every penny. And me? I was told to wait, to settle, to be grateful for leftovers. Now she gets an apartment, and I get fried potatoes?!”

His words were cruel, but the bitterness was real. Years of favoritism—intentional or not—spilled out in one eruption.

THE PARENTS’ PAIN

Their mother sobbed into her apron. “We never loved you less, Fyodor. You are my son, my heart. But Natalia needed help—she has a child on the way. Don’t twist our sacrifices into hatred.”

But Fyodor shook his head, his eyes blazing. “You’ve already chosen. You chose her.”

NATALIA’S TEARS

Natalia finally spoke, her voice breaking. “Fedyusha, please… it wasn’t about favoritism. I didn’t want to take anything from you. I just—my baby—I need space, I need help.”

But her words only fueled the fire.

“Your baby, your needs, always you!” Fyodor spat. “And me? What do I get?”

THE EXPLOSION

He stormed into his room, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. The fried potatoes burned in the pan, the smell turning bitter.

Natalia sobbed quietly on the couch. Her father rubbed his temples, staring at the floor. Their mother clutched the counter for support, her whole body trembling.

What should have been a moment of unity—family gathering around Natalia and her unborn child—had turned into a battlefield of resentment.

THE AFTERMATH

Neighbors whispered later that night when Fyodor stormed out of the building, a bag slung over his shoulder, his face dark with rage.

“He told them to go live with her,” one neighbor recounted. “Said they betrayed him.”

The family’s reputation, once solid, fractured under the weight of his words.

Natalia gave birth weeks later—but the joy was shadowed by the absence of her brother, who refused to visit or even call.

THE LESSON

Families imagine love is endless, that parents can divide support equally. But sometimes, choices—necessary ones—become fuel for jealousy.

Natalia needed help as a mother-to-be. Her parents gave what they could. But Fyodor saw favoritism where they saw necessity.

And a single apartment purchase shattered their fragile peace.

CONCLUSION: A HOUSE DIVIDED

The smell of fried potatoes and cutlets had once meant home, comfort, belonging. Now it was the smell of division, of words that could not be unsaid.

“Bought an apartment for the eldest daughter? Then go live with her,” Fyodor shouted—and in that moment, love turned into resentment, and a family was torn apart.