Natasha was wiping down the kitchen table when Dmitry walked in, phone in hand, a strange half-smile on his face.
«Nata, check this out. Aunt Galina called. She wants to come stay with us for a few days. Says she needs to see some specialists here in the city.»
«Aunt Galina?» Natasha straightened up. «The one who lives two hundred miles away? I’ve never even met her.»
«Yeah, that’s the one. She’s coming with her husband and daughter—Boris and Victoria. I thought, why not? Let them stay. The apartment is big enough.»
Natasha nodded, remembering when Dmitry’s other aunt, Svetlana, had visited last year with her daughter Kristina. They had been so polite and tactful that the apartment actually felt cozier after they left.
«Remember when Svetlana stayed?» Natasha said wistfully. «Every morning, Kristina would practice her singing in front of the mirror before choir rehearsal, and in the evenings, Svetlana would do her embroidery and tell stories about her youth. Such warm people.»
«Well, Galina’s family is the same way. I’m sure it’ll be fine.»
«Alright, Dima. I’m glad you have close relatives who want to visit. I’ll prepare something special for when they arrive.»
Natasha smiled. Two years of marriage had taught her to cherish any excuse for family togetherness—especially since her relationship with Lyudmila Petrovna, her mother-in-law, remained as cold as well water in autumn.
«When should we expect them?»
«The day after tomorrow, in the evening.»
«Perfect. I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow, and then I’ll start cooking the following morning.»
Natasha threw herself into the preparations with enthusiasm. She planned the menu, hit three different stores, and bought fresh fish, high-quality meat, vegetables, and herbs. She cooked four different dishes and baked a cinnamon apple pie. She put fresh linens on the living room sofa, laid out clean towels, and placed flowers on the nightstand.
«Dima, look. What do you think?» she asked, gesturing to the set table.
«Beautiful. Auntie is going to love it.»
«I hope they like it.»
At 7:30 p.m., the doorbell rang. Natasha opened it with a welcoming smile and immediately stepped back—standing on the threshold was a large woman in a bright jacket, followed by a stocky man with a battered suitcase and a young girl with headphones around her neck.
«Well, hello there, hosts!» Aunt Galina announced, stepping inside and scanning the hallway with a sharp gaze. «Hmm, nice little place. Small, of course, but livable.»
«Welcome,» Natasha said, extending her hand. «I’m Natasha. It’s so nice to meet you.»
«Uh-huh,» Galina muttered, lazily shaking her hand while already inspecting the hallway. «Boris, bring the suitcases in. Victoria, stop messing with your phone.»
Dmitry walked out of the room and hugged his aunt.
«Aunt Galya, good to see you! Uncle Boris, hi! Vika, look how much you’ve grown!»
«Dimka!» Galina pinched his cheek. «Now, show us where we’re sleeping. We’re exhausted from the road—we don’t have an ounce of energy left.»
«I’ve made up the sofa for you in the living room,» Natasha said. «It pulls out and it’s very comfortable. I put out fresh sheets, too.»
«In the living room?» Galina frowned. «No, dear, that wasn’t the deal. Boris and I need a real bed. My back is bad. Show me the bedroom.»
Natasha looked at Dmitry in disbelief.
«Aunt Galya, that’s Natasha’s and my room,» Dmitry said.
«So? You’re young; you can sleep on the sofa for a few nights. We’re older; we need a proper bed.»
«Boris Valentinovich, perhaps you’d find the sofa comfortable?» Natasha offered gently. «It’s orthopedic. I picked it out specifically.»
«I don’t care,» Boris grunted, dropping a suitcase on the floor. «The wife decides.»
«Galina, that is our bedroom,» Natasha said firmly, but without raising her voice. «Please, make yourselves comfortable in the living room.»
Dmitry spent ten minutes pleading with his aunt. She scoffed, sighed, and shook her head. Eventually, she agreed—looking as though she had been mortally insulted. Meanwhile, Victoria found the remote and turned the TV up to full volume.
«Vika, please, could you turn that down?» Natasha asked. «An elderly couple lives downstairs.»
«Why should I care about your neighbors?» Victoria didn’t even turn around.
Natasha invited everyone to the table. She laid out the dishes and silverware. Aunt Galina sat down first and reached for the fish with her fork.
«What’s this?» Boris asked, poking a salad with a spoon.
«Avocado and shrimp salad.»
«Looks like slop,» Boris grimaced. «Don’t you have any normal food? Fried potatoes? A slab of meat?»
Natasha felt something tighten inside her, but she kept smiling.
«The meat is right here. I slow-roasted it for four hours. Please, try it.»
«A bit dry,» Galina said, chewing with an evaluative look. «I bet Svetka cooked for you like this when she visited, didn’t she?»
«No, we cooked together. It was wonderful.»
«Well, that’s Svetka for you. Clingy. Always sticking her nose in to ‘help,'» Galina snorted.
Natasha stayed silent. Dmitry poured himself another beer.
The next morning, Natasha was getting ready to leave. On the kitchen table lay a sheet of paper covered in large, loopy handwriting.
«What’s this?» Natasha picked it up.
«I wrote down what you need to buy,» Galina said, walking out of the bathroom wearing Natasha’s bathrobe. «We finished everything yesterday. Get some real cottage cheese—not that watery store-bought stuff. And better sausage, not salami.»
«Galina, that’s my bathrobe,» Natasha said, staring at the silk fabric on the other woman’s shoulders.
«So? Your towel was wet, so I grabbed what was handy.»
«Nata, don’t start a fight first thing in the morning,» Dmitry said, standing in the kitchen doorway with a beer in his hand.
«Dima, it’s eight in the morning. Are you serious?»
«I’m on vacation.»
Natasha left. All day she tried to focus, but her thoughts kept drifting back home. When she opened the door that evening, she froze.
Shoes and bags were strewn across the entryway. In the kitchen, the sink was piled high with dirty dishes. The fridge was nearly empty—even the week’s worth of staples she’d bought were gone. Wet towels lay on the bathroom floor, the mirror was smeared, and the faucet was dripping.
«Dima!» Natasha walked into the living room. Dmitry was passed out on the sofa in front of the TV. Three empty bottles stood nearby.
«Huh?»
«What happened here?»
«Nothing. We just had a good lunch.»
Natasha peeked into the bedroom—and stood rooted to the spot. The bed was rumpled, the pillows were tossed aside, and the duvet was bunched up on the floor.
«Dima,» Natasha returned to the living room, her voice low and icy. «Someone was in our bedroom.»
«Oh, yeah, Boris and Auntie lay down in there for a bit this afternoon. They said the sofa was too hard.»
«They slept in our bed?» Natasha said the words slowly, syllable by syllable.
«Don’t be such a baby. So they lay down, so what?»
At that moment, Boris walked out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but his underwear and an undershirt.
«Oh, the lady of the house is back. Listen, maybe you could shower less? Once a week is plenty. Otherwise, there’ll be no hot water left for the rest of us.»
Natasha stared at him for a long time, unmoving.
«Boris Valentinovich, this is my apartment. I will shower as often as I want.»
«Well, listen to that—’my apartment,'» Boris chuckled. «Hear that, Dimka? Your wife’s got a temper!»
«Nata, knock it off,» Dmitry said, without lifting his head from the pillow.
Natasha went to the kitchen, washed the dishes in silence, and wiped down the counters. Then she called Svetlana—she still had her number from the last visit.
«Aunt Sveta, good evening. It’s Natasha, Dima’s wife.»
«Natashenka! How wonderful to hear from you! How are things?»
«Tell me, does Galina always act like this when she’s a guest?»
There was a pause.
«Natasha, dear,» Svetlana’s voice turned cautious. «How long has she been there?»
«Two days.»
«Listen to me carefully. Galina stayed with us for a week once. After she left, I had to change the locks and send all the upholstered furniture to be deep-cleaned. I wanted to warn Dima, but Lyudmila said I was exaggerating.»
«Did Lyudmila Petrovna know Galina was coming to stay with us?»
«Of course she knew. She’s the one who gave her your address.»
Natasha slowly lowered the phone.
By the third day, Aunt Galina still hadn’t made an appointment with a single one of the specialists she supposedly came to see. That morning, Natasha asked her point-blank:
«Galina, when are you planning on going to the clinic? I can help you set up an appointment.»
«Oh, don’t fuss. I still need to get my lab results back. Then I’ll schedule it. Maybe next week.»
«Next week? You said you’d be here for a couple of days.»
«So? We like it here. Right, Borya?»
«Mm-hmm,» Boris grunted, spreading a thick layer of butter on his bread. «Except this bread is stale. Buy some fresh stuff.»
Natasha turned to her husband.
«Dima, I need to talk to you.»
«So talk.»
«In private.»
They stepped out into the hallway.
«Dima, this can’t go on. They have no intention of leaving. Galina isn’t even trying to see any doctors. They’re living here like it’s a hotel—only at a hotel, people actually pay for the room.»
«Nata, they’re my family. I can’t just kick them out.»
«But you can kick me out? Because in case you haven’t noticed, there’s no room left for me in this apartment. Your aunt is wearing my robe. Your uncle is in my bed. Your cousin is eating my food. And my husband is drinking beer and pretending nothing is wrong.»
«You’re overreacting.»
«Dmitry. Look at me. I am asking you one time—talk to them. Set a deadline. Or I’ll do it myself, and you won’t like how it goes down.»
«Fine, fine. I’ll talk to them.»
Natasha left for her shift and returned at six in the evening. She opened the door and found two strange women in her kitchen. One, a woman in her fifties, sat on a stool eating grapes from a bowl with her hands. The other stood by the window, holding Natasha’s coffee mug.
«Hello,» Natasha said calmly. «Who are you?»
«Oh, these are my friends!» Galina chirped, fluttering out of the living room. «Zinaida and Tamara. I invited them over.»
«To my apartment? Without my permission?»
«Oh, please, it’s just an apartment. There are plenty of people here already; you’re still trying to play boss.»
«Natashenka, don’t be stingy,» one of the women smiled. «Galya told us so much about you.»
«I bet. Like what, exactly?»
«Well, that you’re not a bad girl, just a little slow,» Galina said matter-of-factly, as if it were perfectly normal. «And greedy. There’s nothing decent to eat in this house, the TV is tiny, and the towels are thin.»
Natasha stood perfectly still. Then, she slowly turned to Dmitry, who had just stepped out of the bathroom.
«Did you talk to them?»
«Nata, look…»
«I see.» She nodded. «Thanks, Dmitry. That explains everything.»
«Oh, stop sulking,» Galina waved her off. «Go make some tea for the guests.»
Natasha didn’t say a word. She walked into the hallway, opened the top cabinet, and took out a small bag she had bought the night before after her talk with Svetlana. She knew this moment would come. She was ready.
Natasha went into the bathroom and locked the door. From the bag, she pulled out a pair of tight-fitting swim goggles. Then, a construction respirator she’d bought at the hardware store. Finally, she pulled out a heavy-duty aerosol spray meant for protection against wild animals. The label read: Range: 12 feet. Causes severe tearing, coughing, and temporary disorientation. Safe for health with short-term exposure.
She put on the goggles. She pulled on the respirator. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes behind the glass were completely calm.
Natasha opened the door and walked into the living room. Victoria saw her first.
«Mom, look at this clown! Natasha, why are you dressed like that?»
Galina turned around and burst out laughing.
«Boris, look! The daughter-in-law has finally lost her mind!»
«What is she wearing?» Boris stood up from the sofa.
Dmitry stood by the wall, beer in hand. «Nata, what are you doing?»
«I’ll explain in a second,» Natasha said, her voice muffled through the respirator. «You have thirty seconds to leave my apartment. All of you. Including you, Dmitry.»
«She’s crazy!» Galina slapped her knee. «Dimka, you really picked a winner for a wife!»
«Twenty seconds.»
«Natasha, put that junk away,» Dmitry said, setting his bottle on the table. «Stop the circus.»
«Ten seconds.»
«What are you going to do to us—» Galina started.
Natasha pressed the valve. A powerful jet erupted from the canister, enveloping the living room in a caustic cloud. Victoria screamed first—a piercing, sharp shriek. Boris lunged off the sofa, clutching his eyes. Galina gasped for air, shoving her friends aside as they wailed and scrambled toward the door. Dmitry dropped his bottle and stumbled blindly toward the exit.
Natasha methodically sprayed every corner. The cloud spread through the apartment. The guests, shoving and screaming, spilled out onto the stairwell. Boris was cursing so loudly the whole building could hear him. Victoria was sobbing. The two strangers were already sprinting down the stairs, cursing the day they ever met Galina.
Natasha shut the front door. She turned both locks. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed a locksmith from the building next door.
«Andrey Nikolayevich, good evening. Remember I called yesterday? Yes, to change the locks. Can you come now? Twenty minutes? Perfect.»
She threw open all the windows and turned on the fans. While the apartment aired out, she gathered the guests’ belongings—hastily, by the handful—and stuffed them into their suitcases. She put her husband’s things in a separate gym bag. She went out onto the balcony and lowered everything down on a rope; it was only the third floor.
«Natasha!» Dima hammered on the door. «Open up! This is my home too!»
«The apartment is in my name, Dmitry. The deed is in the folder on the shelf—feel free to check. Your things are downstairs by the entrance. Don’t come back for a week.»
«You don’t have the right!»
«I have the right not to live with people who humiliate me. And with a man who allows it.»
«Dima, look at the woman she is!» Galina wailed from the landing. «I told you—she’s not for you!»
«Shut up, Auntie!» Boris suddenly roared.
Silence fell over the landing.
«What did you say?» Galina asked in a trembling voice.
«I said—shut up! For twenty-two years, I’ve stayed quiet! For twenty-two years, you’ve done the same thing! You went to Svetlana’s—you humiliated us. To Lyudmila’s—you humiliated us. Now here. This girl set the table for us, made our beds—and you gave her a grocery list? You dragged random friends over? You broke into their bedroom?»
«Borya, what are you—»
«Enough, Galina. I’m done. Victoria, grab a suitcase. We’re going home. Without your mother.»
«Dad, I’m coming with you,» Victoria said, quiet but firm.
«What, are you all ganging up on me?!» Galina’s eyes darted from her husband to her daughter. «Borya! Vika! You’re leaving me?!»
«You left yourself when you decided everyone owed you something,» Boris said, picking up a suitcase.
Steps echoed on the stairs. The locksmith had arrived. Natasha let him in through the door the guests could no longer open. Fifteen minutes later, the locks were new.
Natasha cleaned the apartment for two hours. Three huge bags of trash. Grease stains on the counters. Crumbs in the sofa cushions. Someone’s hair on the pillows. She stripped the bedding, threw it in the wash, and set it to the hottest cycle.
The phone rang around eleven p.m. It was Lyudmila Petrovna.
«Natasha,» the mother-in-law’s voice was unusually soft. «Dima called me. He told me everything.»
«And what do you have to say to me, Lyudmila Petrovna?»
A pause.
«I want to say… you did the right thing.» Another pause. «I should have done the same fifteen years ago when Galina stayed with us for two months. Но I couldn’t. I was afraid. And then it took me a year to restore the apartment.»
«You knew what she was like. Why did you give her our address?»
«Because I’m a fool, Natasha. A cowardly old fool who is still afraid to say ‘no’ to her own sister. Forgive me.»
«Lyudmila Petrovna…» Natasha sat on a stool. «Thank you. That’s the first honest thing I’ve heard from you in two years.»
«I know. And I’m ashamed.»
«Dmitry can come back in a week. If he wants. But if he chooses beer and silence over me again, tell him not to bother.»
«I’ll tell him. And, Natasha… I’ll come over next week. Alone. Without Galina. If you don’t mind.»
«Come over.»
Natasha hung up. She looked around the clean, scrubbed, empty apartment. For the first time in five days, she felt like she could breathe.
The next morning, Dmitry called.
«Natasha, I’m so sorry. I realize I was wrong. Please…»
«One week, Dmitry. Not a day sooner. Use that time to decide what kind of husband you are—the one who hides behind a bottle, or the one who stands by his wife.»
She hung up. Half an hour later, a message arrived from Svetlana: «Kristina wrote a song for you. It’s called ‘The One Who Wasn’t Afraid.’ Do you want us to come over this weekend so she can sing it for you?»
Natasha smiled. For the first time in days—a real smile.
Meanwhile, at the train station, Galina sat alone in the waiting area with a plastic bag instead of a suitcase, because Boris had taken both. Her phone was silent. Not a single friend answered her calls. Her two «guests» had sent a group text: «Galina, you owe us for dry cleaning two coats. 4,700 rubles. Card number attached.»
The next train wasn’t for seven hours, and she didn’t have money for a ticket—her wallet was in the suitcase Boris took. Galina dialed her sister’s number. One ring, two, three.
«Lyudmila, it’s me…»
«Galina, I’m busy.»
«Lyudmila, wait! I need help! Borya left me, I’m alone at the station, I have no money, no—»
«For twenty years, you haven’t helped a single soul. Not one person. You only took. Now sit there and think about what it’s like—when there’s no one left by your side. Goodbye, Galina.»
The line went dead.
Galina slowly lowered her phone. On the station monitor, the letters blinked: DELAYED. ESTIMATED DEPARTURE TIME—TO BE DETERMINED.
No one came for her. Not in an hour, not in three, not in seven.
