“Katya, sweetheart, come sit down,” said Valentina Sergeyevna, patting the sofa beside her in a way that clearly meant the conversation wasn’t going to be pleasant.
Katya had just come home from work, still in her office clothes, and immediately tensed up. Whenever her mother-in-law called her “sweetheart,” it was a sure sign trouble was coming. That term usually preceded either a lecture about how to cook borscht so “your husband doesn’t starve,” or reminders that it was high time to have a couple of kids “while you’re still young.”
“Can I at least take off my shoes first?” Katya tried to stall.
“Go ahead,” said her mother-in-law, eyes fixed on her like a hawk. “And put the kettle on, too. We’ll need tea for this conversation.”
Here we go, thought Katya, kicking off her shoes in the hallway. It had already been a rough day—work was a mess, the apartment needed cleaning, and she still had to call her husband later. And now this.
“I do understand,” Valentina Sergeyevna began when Katya finally sat down with a cup of tea, “but the situation is… delicate.”
“What happened?” Katya braced herself, expecting another long-winded speech about how daughters-in-law used to be more agreeable.
“Svetlana is divorcing Tolik.”
Katya nearly choked on her tea. Svetlana, her husband’s older sister, had been threatening to divorce her husband for a year, but it had never sounded serious.
“For real this time?”
“Oh yes,” her mother-in-law said, beginning her dramatic monologue. “She’s already filed the papers! That idiot got himself a young secretary. So Svetlana and the kids are moving in with you.”
“With us?” A chill ran down Katya’s spine.
“Yes,” said Valentina Sergeyevna with a strange smile. “To this apartment.”
Silence fell between them. From the kitchen came the drip-drip of the leaky faucet Katya had been asking her husband to fix for weeks.
“And where exactly are Andrey and I supposed to go?” Katya asked with forced calm.
“Oh, you’re young! You’ll find a place to rent or maybe stay at your mother’s for a while. Svetlana and the kids need this apartment—school is nearby, there’s a kindergarten too, and it’s nice and spacious.”
“Hold on,” Katya put her cup down. “You’re actually asking me to move out of my own apartment?”
“Come on, Katya, is it really yours?” her mother-in-law pushed forward. “We bought it for Andrey before you two even got married. Svetlana is family. And she has kids. They can’t live on the street.”
“First of all,” Katya stood up, “the apartment is legally mine. Andrey gave it to me as a wedding gift. Second, doesn’t Svetlana have her own place?”
“Oh please, don’t start with that,” Valentina snapped, rising to her feet as well. “She and Tolik bought it with a mortgage. It’s complicated. Right now she needs help. Can’t you understand?”
Just then, the doorbell rang. Svetlana was at the door, holding Kirill and Sonya by the hand.
“Hi everyone,” she chirped. “We were just passing by and thought we’d drop in! The kids missed their aunt Katya so much.”
Katya glanced at the clock—just before 8 p.m. “Passing by,” right.
“Kirill, Sonya, go to the kitchen,” said Valentina, bustling around. “Grandma will get you some tea and cookies. The adults need to talk.”
“Mom, did you tell her already?” Svetlana threw herself into the armchair, crossing her legs.
“I’m trying,” Valentina sighed. “Katya’s being stubborn.”
“What is there to talk about?” Svetlana pulled out her phone. “I already called the designer. He’s coming tomorrow to see the apartment. We need to plan out the furniture layout.”
Katya was speechless.
“Excuse me? Who did you call?”
“Don’t be selfish, Katya,” Svetlana rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’ve got two kids, you know. They need space to grow.”
“And I don’t? Am I supposed to live on a park bench with my husband?”
“Oh come on,” Svetlana scoffed. “Andrey’s always away on business trips. You’re practically living here alone. I have children. Actual children. You get that, right?”
A crash and children’s screams echoed from the kitchen.
“Grandma! Kirill spilled juice on my dress!”
“Did not! She bumped into me!”
“Did too!”
“Did not!”
Katya groaned. “We just finished renovating…”
“See?” said Valentina, triumphant. “I told you this place is perfect for them! They’re already settling in!”
Katya took out her phone and called her husband. After a few rings, he picked up.
“Hey sweetheart! I was just about to—”
“Andrey,” Katya interrupted, putting him on speakerphone, “your mom and sister are here. They’re trying to evict us.”
“What?!” there was a loud crash from his end. “Mom, are you serious?”
“Andrey, honey,” Valentina jumped in, “don’t get the wrong idea! It’s just that Svetlana is in a difficult situation—”
“Come on, brother,” Svetlana added. “You know I can’t end up on the street with my kids. And your wife…”
“Hold it right there,” Andrey’s voice turned cold. “Svetlana, you have your own apartment.”
“But it’s under a mortgage!” she protested.
“So what? You’ve been renting it out for the past two years.”
The room went silent. Valentina turned to her daughter slowly.
“What do you mean ‘renting it out’?”
Svetlana paled. “Well… it’s just temporary… It’s a good source of income, that’s all.”
“So let me get this straight,” Katya said slowly, “you want to kick us out of our home while you’ve been making money from your own apartment?”
“You… you can’t talk to me like that!” Svetlana started, but was interrupted by another crash and the sound of shattering glass.
“MOM!” Kirill shouted. “Sonya broke your favorite vase!”
“Which vase?” Katya asked, her voice cold.
“The one we got as a wedding gift,” Andrey answered through the phone. “The Chinese one.”
“This is all your fault!” screamed Svetlana, pointing at Katya. “If you had just agreed to move out, none of this would’ve happened!”
“Mom,” Andrey said firmly, “you have five minutes to leave OUR apartment. I’m calling Uncle Tolik to come pick—”
“DON’T YOU DARE CALL TOLIK!” Svetlana shrieked. “He’s with that— that woman—”
“Who?” came a voice from the doorway.
Natalya Viktorovna, Katya’s mother, stood in the entrance holding grocery bags.
“Sweetheart, I baked some pies and thought I’d stop by… Oh! Company?”
“Pies, how lovely!” Valentina tried to lighten the mood. “Let’s have some tea—”
“Hold the tea,” said Natalya, setting the bags down and removing her glasses. “Sounds like I missed something interesting. Something about mistresses and moving?”
“MOM! SONYA GOT JUICE ALL OVER THE CURTAINS!” came a shout from the kitchen.
“Oh no,” Katya sighed, grabbing her head.
“Alright,” said Natalya, frowning like a seasoned teacher (she had taught math for 30 years), “everyone sit down and explain—clearly—what is going on here.”
“There’s nothing to explain!” Svetlana snapped. “This is a family apartment! And your daughter—”
“‘Family’ apartment?” Natalya raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you scream at the wedding that thank god Andrey sold his studio and bought a proper place so you wouldn’t be embarrassed?”
“I never said that!” Svetlana blushed.
“You did,” came Andrey’s voice through the speaker. “I have it on video.”
“Andrey,” Valentina cut in, “watch how you talk to your mother. We’re just worried about Svetlana. She’s going through a tragedy—”
“A tragedy?” Natalya snorted. “Her husband left her. Not surprising, considering she spends more time in saunas with friends than at home.”
“What?!” Valentina turned red. “How dare you! Lies!”
“Oh, please,” Natalya waved her hand. “Everyone knows. I sit with Kirill in after-school care while his mother is out—”
“MOM!” another scream from the kitchen. “Sonya got into your makeup! She’s drawing on the walls with lipstick!”
Katya, who had been silent until then, leapt up and ran into the kitchen. Svetlana followed like a missile.
“SONYA! MOMMY’S NOT OKAY! PUT DOWN THE LIPSTICK!”
“Mom,” Andrey’s voice came through the phone again, “you still there? I’ve ordered a taxi. It’s waiting outside. Take the kids and—”
“I’m not going anywhere!” shouted Svetlana from the kitchen. “This is our apartment now! Right, Mom?”
“Yes, of course,” Valentina said quickly. “We’ve already decided.”
“You’ve decided?” Natalya raised her eyebrows. “Did you also ‘decide’ about the deed? The one where Andrey gave the apartment to Katya?”
“What deed?” Valentina started, then stopped.
“This one,” Natalya said, pulling out a folder. “I had a feeling this might happen. Made a copy, just in case.”
The doorbell rang.
“There’s Uncle Tolik!” Andrey said happily from the phone.
“No!” Svetlana burst in from the kitchen. “I don’t want to see him! He brought that— that—”
The door opened. A broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket stood there holding hands with a stunning thirty-something blonde.
“Hello, everyone!” he said cheerfully. “Marina and I were just passing by…”
“Marina?!” shrieked Valentina. “Tolik, you promised to stay away from that— that—”
“Secretary?” Marina smiled. “Actually, I own a chain of fitness centers. And by the way, I’m the one renting Svetlana’s apartment. For the past two years.”
The room went dead silent. From the kitchen, Sonya could be heard humming while smearing lipstick on the wallpaper.
“You’ve been renting your place… to the woman your husband is seeing?” Valentina asked her daughter slowly.
“Yes!” Svetlana snapped. “It just happened, okay? She pays well!”
“So,” Natalya clarified, “you have an apartment, you rent it out, you collect money, and you want to evict my daughter?”
“I didn’t mean… I just…” Svetlana slumped onto the couch. “What’s the big deal? I need to make a living somehow. And it’s a good income…”
“Income?” Valentina jumped. “Why didn’t I know about this? You told me you were struggling! I’ve been giving you money every month!”
Katya returned from the kitchen, holding the ruined curtains.
“Sorry,” she said, “but I think it’s time everyone went home. I’ll send you the bill for the new curtains.”
“Curtains?” Svetlana shrieked. “Do you even know how much I paid for those—” she stopped mid-sentence.
“For what exactly?” Uncle Tolik narrowed his eyes.
“She wanted to take the apartment,” Andrey explained through the phone. “She was planning a takeover.”
“And her own place?” Marina asked.
“She’s renting it out. To you, apparently,” Andrey added.
“Wait a minute,” Valentina clutched her chest. “You’ve been lying to us? About the money? The apartment?”
“MOM! SONYA’S CLIMBING INTO THE FRIDGE!” came another scream.
“That’s it,” Katya said, standing tall. “Enough. Svetlana, take your kids and go home. To your apartment.”
“But I—”
“And you, Valentina Sergeyevna,” Katya turned to her mother-in-law, “if you want to help your daughter, do it. But not at my expense.”
“I called the taxi,” Andrey said. “It’s outside.”
“Come on, little sister,” said Uncle Tolik, taking Svetlana by the elbow. “We’ll talk on the way. About the apartment, the lies, the kids…”
“And about child support,” added Marina. “I’m a lawyer, by the way. I can help with the paperwork.”
Fifteen minutes later, the apartment was quiet again. Only Natalya stayed behind to help Katya clean up the aftermath of the “child creativity.”
“You know,” she said while scrubbing lipstick off the wall, “there’s nothing worse than relatives who try to ‘do good’ their way.”
“Let’s just clean up,” Katya replied with a small smile. “Then we’ll try those pies.”
“Cabbage-filled. Your favorite,” said Natalya with a wink. “By the way, want to call Andrey and tell him how it ended?”
“Already texting him,” Katya said, pulling out her phone. “Love, everything’s fine here. Just need to replace the curtains.”