«Remembering Grandad with Kind Words»
«Flat? What do you mean, *your* flat?»
«Mum, it’s Grandad’sthe one he left me. You even rented it out for a while. Dont you remember?» Alina asked, confused.
«Oh *That* flat. Well, it was never really yours,» Irina replied casually. «Forget about it. I sold it.»
Alinas pulse shot up. Her heart hammered as if trying to escape her chest. Her legs gave way, forcing her to sit down.
«You *sold* it?»
«Yeah, like anyone would. Listed it on Rightmove, found a buyer, done. Sergeis car broke down, and you know hes useless without it. Needed a new one.»
Alina couldnt even muster a reply. She hung up. A sharp ache clenched inside her, so tight she wanted to scream.
She remembered Grandad, grinning proudly as he showed off the freshly done-up bedroom, saying itd all be hers one day.
«When youre older, love, youll have your own little castle. Right from the start. Youll remember me kindly for it» Hed smile, ruffling her hair.
Hed died when she was just twelve. Back then, Alina barely grasped what owning a flat even meant. Sure, she knew it was *good*, but she couldnt fully appreciate it. So when she found out Grandads promise was just wordsno paperworkshe hadnt been too upset.
«The flats staying in my name for now,» Irina, as the sole heir, had declared. «Grandad asked me to look after it so you wouldnt squander it. Ill rent it out to cover bills and slowly update the place. You dont want to end up with a dump full of debt, do you?»
«Course not,» Alina agreed easily.
«Good. Its simpler this way*Ill* deal with tenants, not you. And when youre older, well transfer it. Dont worry, I wont cheat you.»
And that was that. Alina forgot about the flat for years, buried in schoolwork. It only resurfaced when she was finishing sixth form.
«Mum, Ive talked to my mate from school,» Alina ventured hesitantly. «Were applying to the same uni. Thought maybe we could live in that flat together? Splitting bills would be easier. Id like to start being independent.»
Shed assumed it was a formalitythat her mum would agree. That soon shed have the classic uni life: her best mate nearby, late-night chats about boys. But no.
«Alina, *independent* at eighteen? Howd you afford it?» Irina scoffed. «Youd have to juggle work and uniimpossible. And what if your mate gets a boyfriend and bails? Then what? Mum, save me?»
The hurt nestled under her ribs then, but her mums logic still sounded convincing. Irina *was* the adult with experience; Alina had never even lived alone.
She apologised to her friend, shame burning her cheeks as their plans crumbled.
The dream of independence seemed shelved foreveruntil her mum offered an alternative.
«Why not look at unis outside London? They do student halls. Same freedom you want, just cheaper. Ill send you some money from the rent. Not loads, but enough to get by.»
Alina couldnt believe her ears. She flung her arms around her mum, overjoyed.
Everything was perfectfor the first six months. Then Irina texted: *»Sending less this month. Dentist bill wiped me out. Well both have to tighten our belts.»*
Then the payments started coming late. If rent came in on the 10th, Alina got her cut a week later. Then later still
Then she found out: her mum had moved her boyfriend in almost as soon as shed left.
Sergei split his time between two women. Married to one, but «in the middle of a divorce»one that never seemed to end. And that wasnt his only flaw.
Irina moaned to Alina about him constantly, treating her like a therapist. After each call, Alina felt drained. She *saw* Sergei using her mum, but Irina refused to listen.
«Can you *believe* it? He asked to borrow money yesterday! For the kids day out,» Irina grumbled. «Since when am I funding his kids?»
«Mum you *loaned* it?»
«Well, yeah. What else could I do? Decent men are hard to find these days»
«Decent men dont bleed you dry and give nothing back!»
«Oh, stop! Im not some gold-digger. Im with him for *love*,» Irina snapped, shutting down the conversation.
Sergei *did* bleed her dry. He lived rent-free, ate her food. When his jacket tore, Irina rushed to buy him a new one.
What did she get in return? Nothing. He worked in construction, but when her sink needed fixing, he charged her *triple*.
No giftsexcept a tacky lamp for Mothers Day. And even then, at checkout, his card declined. Irina paid the bulk herself.
Then Sergei started eyeing up plots of land, hinting hed build them a house*if* the deed was in his name. Irina gushed to Alina about «their future veranda.»
«Mum, *wake up*! Hes a leech! Hes not even your husband!»
«What do *you* know?» Irina hissed. «Its *my* life. Dont I deserve happiness?»
After that, Irina stayed with Sergei but stopped discussing him. Small mercies.
By third year, the money stopped entirely.
«Got laid off. Youll have to manage alone for a bit, love,» Irina said bluntly.
Betrayed, Alina bit her tongue. That rent money was *hers*. But she found odd jobsonline moderating, tutoringscraping by until graduation.
She saved a little, then called her mum, eager to say shed need the flat back.
Thats when she learned: it was gone.
But Alina had a card to playnot as big, but something. She owned half her mums flat.
It took her a moment to remember. First, she scrambled for a place to live, her savings vanishing into rent. Two weeks later, she called Irina.
«Since you sold mine I want whats legally mine. Im selling my half,» Alina said, voice steady though her hands shook.
«*What?!* Thats *my* home!»
«Lifes unfair. You sold my flatI need to live.»
«*Your* flat? You never paid a penny! *I* dealt with tenants, *I* covered bills, *I* fixed everything. I *lived* there half my life!»
A lump rose in Alinas throat. She wanted to scream about Grandads broken promise, but she wouldnt stoop to a row. She had one goal.
«Im not debating this. You bought your boyfriend a car. Now its my turn.»
«Sergei *drives* me in that car!» Irina snapped.
«Listen carefully. Either you buy me out, or I sell my half to strangers.»
«I *raised* you! And youyoure worse than your father!»
Alina hung up. The next day, she mailed a formal notice of sale. No face-to-face.
A month later, the money arrived. Enough to start fresh.
«Sorry, Grandad,» she whispered, exhaling. «But you taught me not to trust words.»
She felt awfulhed wanted them happy, each in their own home. But hers had turned into car parts, so shed fought fire with fire.
