The house was built in the late twenties of the twentieth century for banker Dimitar Ivanov and his wife Nadezhda Stankovic. Inside, the accent falls on the red marble fireplace located in the reception hall. There is a podium for musicians as well as crystal glasses on the interior doors. Several bedrooms, beautiful terraces, a large study room and service rooms. Nothing of the furniture is preserved, but it is known that high-class Sofia citizens at that time preferred furniture from Central and Western Europe.
The exterior is a large front yard facing the street, separated from the sidewalk by a beautiful wrought iron fence. Triple staircase to the entrance of the house, but it is always very impressive that the special portals for carriages and carriages on both sides of the yard. Even today I imagine a cabin with the members of the invited family entering the yard of the house through one portal, the horseshoes and the carriage staying in the space behind the house, specially tailored for that while waiting for the reception to end and go out again from the yard, but through the other portal.
Banker Ivanov’s family lived happily in the house, at least until 1944. After the war the property was nationalized and originally housed the Romanian embassy. Later in the year, the house was a commercial representation of the USSR in Bulgaria, as well as the headquarters of the administration of various communist structures of unclear purpose.
In the 90’s the house was restituted and returned to the heir of the first owner-banker Dimitar Ivanov. Since 2004 the property is the property of the director of Lukoil-Valentin Zlatev, who has not yet shown any relation to this monument of culture. The beautiful house once ruined for decades and is now sadly sad.
I Took My Fiancé to Visit My Parents — He Ran Out Screaming ‘I Can’t Believe It!’ in the Middle of the Night
Adam and I had been together for six years, planning to marry next month. But during a visit to my parents’ house, everything changed. Adam discovered their unconventional marriage—a secret I’d kept—and it rocked his trust in me.
It all began with a visit to my childhood home. Despite Adam’s preference for a hotel, I convinced him to stay for nostalgia’s sake. The visit started well, with family meals and laughter, but that night, Adam witnessed something shocking—my mother kissing another man. Horrified, he demanded an explanation, assuming infidelity.
I had dreaded this moment for years. My parents had an open marriage, and I had kept it hidden, unsure how to tell Adam. When he confronted me, I tried to explain, but he was too upset. His own trauma from his mother’s infidelity clouded everything. Feeling betrayed, he left for a hotel, needing time to process.
The rest of the visit was tense. My parents apologized, but the damage was done. On the drive home, we decided to seek therapy to work through the trust issues and Adam’s unresolved fears. Now, we’re talking more openly, trying to heal and move forward together.
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