They were already planning, trading her inheritance before she had the chance to breathe it in.
“We’ll sell the cottage,” Nikita said, tapping on his phone. “Get a car. Put it in your name, Dad. That new delivery route needs wheels, and fast.”
“I’ll call Tolya,” chimed in Mikhail Petrovich. “He’s got buyers lined up. We can wrap this up in a week.”
Galina stood by the window, back straight, hands folded. “No,” she said, quietly but with intent. “You misunderstood. I’m not selling the house.”
Silence fell like a curtain.
“What?” Nikita frowned. “You’re not—Galya, come on. This is about the family business. We’re finally expanding!”
“I’ve made up my mind,” she said, facing them now. “I have other plans for that place.”
Her father-in-law leaned back in his chair, visibly annoyed. “And what plans are those, if you don’t mind enlightening us?”
“I want to open a greenhouse. Flowers. I studied floral design, remember?” she said softly. “That’s always been my dream.”
Nikita blinked, clearly blindsided. “Flowers? What about our business? You know we need that van.”
Mikhail scoffed. “Galina, listen. Your husband’s been breaking his back to keep this family going. And now you want to grow… daisies?”
“It’s not just ‘some flowers,’” she said, her voice tinged with hurt. “It’s what I trained for. What I love. And for five years, I’ve shelved every part of myself.”
“Dreams don’t pay bills!” Mikhail barked. “Grow up!”
“What use is money,” Galina replied, “if I feel hollow every day?”
“Unbelievable,” Nikita said, rising from his seat. “We’ve given you everything. A roof. Clothes. Food. And now you’re unhappy?”
“I want something of my own,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Not to ask permission to live my life.”
“We’re married. Decisions should be mutual.”
“But they never were,” she said bitterly. “You always decided, and I was expected to nod.”
Her father-in-law threw up his hands. “Women today! Back in our time, a wife stood by her man!”
“I won’t sell that house,” Galina repeated. “It’s more than bricks to me—it’s a piece of my grandmother. And now, it’s a chance to start something that belongs to me.”
“If you really love us, you’ll support us,” Nikita snapped.
A voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“That’s enough.”
Everyone turned. It was Anna Viktorovna—usually soft-spoken, always in the background. But now, there was steel in her tone.
“Do you hear yourselves?” she said, looking between her husband and son. “This isn’t a business transaction. Galya’s grandmother died. She left her that house. It’s hers. Not yours to bargain with.”
“Aniut, what’s gotten into you?” Mikhail asked, stunned. “You always said family comes first.”
“Family doesn’t mean blind obedience to men’s decisions,” she replied calmly. “It took me thirty years to see that.”
“You too?” Nikita stared. “We’re talking about practical needs here. Flowers don’t pay the mortgage!”
“Galya’s not just someone’s wife,” Anna continued. “She’s her own person. She deserves to live a life that isn’t dictated by someone else’s plans.”
Galina blinked, stunned by this sudden ally. For years, Anna had been the silent, obedient partner to Mikhail’s gruff authority. But now…
“You’re doing to Galya what I let them do to me,” Anna added, her voice firm. “And I won’t watch it happen again.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mikhail said, waving a hand. “You live like a queen.”
“I live with regrets.”
A long silence fell.
Then Anna turned to Galina. “Tell them. Tell them your plan.”
Galina hesitated, then spoke.
“The plot is fifteen hundred square meters. I can start small. One greenhouse. I’ve still got college contacts, I know where to source bulbs, seeds. There’s a real market for this.”
“And how much money would you actually make?” Nikita cut in, arms crossed. “Because that minibus will bring in hundreds of thousands.”
“I don’t know yet,” Galina replied. “But for once, it won’t be about money. It’ll be about meaning.”
Mikhail shook his head. “You’re being selfish.”
“That’s enough!” Anna snapped. “She doesn’t owe you anything.”
“You’re siding with her now?” her husband asked, completely thrown.
“No,” she said. “I’m siding with myself. And it feels good.”
Nikita looked between the two women, baffled. “What do we do then? Give up the van? Let the business fall behind?”
“We take a loan,” Anna said. “Or lease one. Everyone does it. And if you’re worried about cost, Galina can contribute a share of her profits. That way, everyone wins.”
Galina turned to her. “You’d really help me?”
“Not just help,” Anna smiled. “I’d like to learn. Maybe you’ll teach me a thing or two.”
Mikhail stood up, scratching his head. “Nikit… maybe we should think about it? If we get some money from the flowers, too…”
“I’ll think about it,” Nikita muttered, leaving the room.
Three weeks later, sunlight painted the old cottage in gold.
Galina sorted tools in the backyard. Her small corner of the world was taking shape.
Nikita emerged, hauling a bag of soil. “Where do you want this?”
“Under the shed roof,” she smiled.
The shift in their lives was palpable. Even Anna had taken to the greenhouse plans with surprising enthusiasm, measuring plots and scribbling layouts like a teenager discovering a hobby.
“It’s all falling into place,” Anna said, standing with a tape measure. “Six by twelve meters here, and seed beds over there. What do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” Galina said. “And scalable.”
Mikhail wandered over, towel around his neck. “You’ve got real drive, Galina. And my Anuta… she looks younger these days. Maybe I judged too quickly.”
“Maybe?” Anna teased, her eyes misty.
“If I hadn’t pushed you to drop out back then…” Mikhail mumbled, then coughed and walked away.
Later that night, Galina sat on the porch, listening to laughter inside as Nikita and Mikhail rearranged furniture.
“You okay?” Nikita asked, joining her with tea.
“Tired. But happy.”
He hesitated. “I want to apologize. I thought I was helping by deciding things for you. I see now—I wasn’t.”
She looked at him, curious. “What changed?”
“You, mostly. And Mom. I’ve never seen her this alive. It made me wonder what I’ve been taking from you all these years.”
Galina chuckled softly. “I’m not running away. I just needed space to be… me.”
Three months later, the greenhouse shimmered in the summer sun. Blooms in every shade reached skyward, and the scent of success—earthy, floral, and fresh—hung in the air.
Anna entered with a clipboard. “Bridal salon order—thirty bouquets by Friday.”
“On it,” Galina grinned. “We’ll need more hands soon.”
“Mikhail says your revenue almost matches the minibus income,” Anna added with pride.
Galina looked down at her scratched, calloused hands. “They’re working hands,” she said. “But they’re happy.”
She looked around at her garden, her family, her little business.
“Who would’ve thought a few flowers could make everything bloom?”
Anna pulled her close. “Every woman deserves to bloom. Every dream deserves a chance.”
And outside, under the same sun that had once scorched their tempers, the greenhouse stood like a quiet promise: some things are worth fighting for.