Ekaterina hated family gatherings, especially when her mother-in-law was present. Everything turned into a farce: Nina Vasilyevna, like a queen, would perch herself at the head of the table, even if it was someone else’s, and would begin to direct the proceedings—who would pour wine, who would be praised, who would be criticized. And Andrei… Andrei would fawn, joke, and smile at first, but then suddenly, as if losing his composure, he would turn into a mama’s boy and echo her every word, as if he were once again that schoolboy who got his ears pulled for getting a C in algebra.
But that evening, Ekaterina gave in.
“Okay,” she said wearily, pulling off her jacket after work. “Invite your mom. Since we’re now, as I understand it, a big, happy family.”
“Katya, please don’t start,” Andrey pleaded guiltily. “Max is already having a hard time. The divorce, the apartment is gone… You understand…”
Ekaterina glanced at him over her glasses. The computer glasses had long been her favorite accessory, adding, she thought, a touch of respectability.
“I understand that your brother has been living with us for three months. And every morning I get up and go to the kitchen to see his socks hanging to dry on the radiator. His socks, mind you.”
Andrey snorted and pretended to be busily tying his shoelaces.
“Well, he’s family. He has nowhere else to go for now.” Mom’s pension is paltry, and the one-room apartment is so remote it’s barely big enough.
“And what’s my apartment, a walk-through?” Katya took off her glasses and stared at him. “Let me remind you: it’s mine. Premarital. And I’m the only one registered there.”
Andrey winced, as if he had a toothache.
“You’re like a Cerberus, honestly.”
She sighed. She didn’t want to argue, but she couldn’t keep quiet any longer. There would be this dinner anyway, her mother-in-law would arrive with Maxim, and the “family comes first” refrain would begin again.
By eight o’clock, the table was groaning with food. The aroma of borscht filled the kitchen—Nina Vasilyevna disdained store-bought convenience foods and took command from the doorway. Ekaterina silently yielded, though it irritated her to the point of grinding her teeth how she was tampering with her pots. Maxim, dressed in a washed-out T-shirt and sweatpants, sprawled on the sofa, seemingly lost in the abyss of his smartphone.
“Well,” her mother-in-law announced cheerfully, ladling the borscht into plates, “here we are all gathered together. Family must stick together.” Especially in difficult times.
Katya pursed her lips. “It’s started,” flashed through her mind.
“Katyusha,” Nina Vasilyevna continued with a strained smile, “you’re such a kind girl. I always knew Andryusha was lucky to have you.”
“Thank you,” Katya snapped, picking at her plate with her spoon.
“And Maxim’s going through a tough time right now… His wife kicked him out, sued him for his apartment… it’s a blatant injustice. The man is left homeless, without a family.”
Maxim tore himself away from the phone and nodded mournfully.
“This is how we spend our lives,” he sighed, “on the couch. Oh well, we’ll get through this.”
Andrey cast a pleading glance at his wife, as if asking for support.
“Katya, you see. Max needs help.”
Katya put down her spoon.
“Don’t I need it? I work from morning until night, and I come home to a sink piled high with dirty dishes, an empty fridge, and a strange man on the couch. Maybe I need help too?”
“Why are you doing this?” Maxim said, offended, scratching his head. “I’m trying not to get in the way.”
“Trying?” Katya gave a dry laugh. “Yesterday you dragged your friends here and spent the night rattling beer cans. Today you borrowed two thousand from me ‘until tomorrow.’ Well, tomorrow is already here.”
A deathly silence fell over the room. The only sounds were the monotonous ticking of the clock and the muffled hum of the range hood.
“Ekaterina,” her mother-in-law said icily, “the most important thing in a family is support. Not money, not square footage. You’re still young; you don’t understand.”
“I understand that my home is my home.” “And not a transit point for the suffering,” Katya snapped. Her voice wavered, but she stood proudly.
Andrey pushed back his chair with a bang.
“Are you trying to tell me my brother is a stranger to you?”
“And who is he to me?” Katya turned to her husband. “I married you, not the whole gang of you.”
“Shame on you!” her mother-in-law cried, flushing red with indignation. “A real woman should sacrifice herself for her loved ones!”
“A real woman should, first and foremost, have a roof over her head,” Katya retorted. “And I earned that roof myself.”
Maxim cleared his throat, trying to defuse the tense situation.
“Come on, girls, don’t fight…”
“Shut up!” Katya and Andrey barked at him simultaneously.
Andrey slammed his fist on the table in rage.
“That’s enough! We’re a family, and we have to help each other! Maxim needs an apartment. You have one. I don’t. So, it’s ours!”
Ekaterina’s face turned white as a sheet.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes!” Andrey yelled, spitting. “I won’t let my brother be homeless while you sit here shuffling papers!”
His mother-in-law nodded in agreement. Maxim stared at his phone screen again, but the corners of his lips twitched in a treacherous, satisfied smirk.
Katya rose slowly from the table.
“Okay,” she said quietly but clearly. “If ‘family’ means them to you, not me, then get ready. I’m not your enemy. But I won’t give up anything in my apartment to anyone.”
She turned and, without another word, walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The dishes in the sideboard clanged mournfully.
A stifling silence fell over the kitchen. Only Andrey’s mother-in-law, leaning over, whispered in his ear:
“She’ll regret this…”
Morning burst into the apartment with a roar akin to an avalanche. Maxim, like a barge hauler, lugged his heavy backpack behind him, dragging his boots, puffing angrily, dropping his keys as he went. Ekaterina stood at the stove, pouring herself coffee—an island of calm in the chaos.
“Sorry, I woke you,” he grumbled, not even deigning to look at her. “I have an interview.”
“Great,” Katya replied, not looking up from her mug. “I hope I find a job and an apartment.”
He glanced at her, full of resentment and reproach, as if she were a stern warden.
“Well, I’ll find him… It’s just a matter of time.”
Katya remained silent.
Andrey, like a peacemaker, emerged from the bathroom, still damp from the shower, eager to defuse the escalating conflict.
“Katya, what are you starting? He’s really looking.”
“He’s been looking for two months,” she retorted dryly. “I’m already thinking about formalizing his stay with us? Renting a sofa at market rate.”
Andrey’s brow furrowed.
“Are you kidding me? He’s my brother!”
“And what about me? I’m not even mentioning that your brother devours my yogurts, finishes off my milk, and dries his underwear with my hairdryer.”
“Katya!” Andrey slammed his palm on the table, causing the cups to jump. “Stop picking on him!”
“This isn’t nitpicking, Andrey. These are boundaries. I want to go home and relax, not trip over other people’s socks and listen to endless sagas about his ex, the ‘hell of a bitch.'”
The door creaked in the hallway, bidding Maxim farewell.
That afternoon, Katya received a call from her mother-in-law.
“Ekaterina, I wanted to talk to you calmly. Andrey’s restless, and you’re so stubborn…”
“Nina Vasilyevna,” Katya pressed the phone to her ear, trying to maintain her composure. “This is my apartment. My premarital property. I have the documents.”
“Technically, you’re right,” her mother-in-law softened. “But family isn’t just documents.”
“For you, it’s not just documents, but for me, it’s a guarantee that I won’t end up on the street tomorrow,” Katya snapped. “That’s it, that’s it.”
“You’re selfish, Katya,” her mother-in-law’s voice turned icy. “Family comes first. You’ll regret it.”
Katya, without thinking, hung up and threw the phone on the sofa. She was shaking.
That evening, Andrey returned home, looking gloomy. He barked at her right from the doorway:
“We need to talk.”
Katya recognized that tone. A cold premonition gripped her chest.
“I’m listening,” she replied evenly.
“I’m tired of your attitude. You’re pressuring me, humiliating my brother. Mom’s absolutely right—you only think about yourself.”
“Yourself?” Katya grinned, feeling anger boiling inside her. “I’ve been feeding a grown man for two months, putting up with this mess and his late-night parties. And you think I’m thinking about myself?”
“You could at least show a little compassion. Give the man a chance.”
“A chance?” Katya’s voice rose. “Andrey, he spends all day and night with us, he didn’t even bother to buy his own towel. And you want me to give him an apartment?!”
“Exactly!” he exploded. “He needs it more!” We could have figured something out together, bought ourselves another place, taken out a mortgage… But you’re sitting on your property, trembling over it!
It was as if something inside Katya had snapped, gone dark.
“So you’re in league with them.”
“I’m on the family’s side!” Andrey approached, waving his hand in impotent rage. “You’re insensitive! You’re selfish!”
“And you’re a mama’s boy!” Katya cried out, unable to contain herself any longer. “I’m tired of living with your brother and your mother constantly hovering over us!”
“Then pack your things and get out,” he suddenly said, glaring at her.
Katya was dumbfounded.
“What?”
“You heard me perfectly well,” Andrey stood there, as if carved from stone. “We share the apartment now. We’re family. That means we’ll decide together.”
She laughed nervously, not believing her ears.
“You’re wrong. We don’t share the apartment. It’s mine. And you’re here as a husband, essentially a guest.” He jerked open the closet door, pulled out a drawer, and began furiously throwing her clothes into the suitcase.
“Fine! Then we’ll settle the score in court!”
Katya jumped up to him, grabbed his arm, trying to stop this frantic torrent.
“Don’t you dare! These are my things!”
They froze opposite each other, like gladiators in an arena. Andrey’s face burned with anger, his fists clenched, but then he abruptly pushed the suitcase aside.
“That’s it. I’m going to Mom’s. Think carefully about your behavior.”
He slammed the door so hard it shook the glass.
Katya slowly sank onto the sofa. The half-open suitcase lay in the hallway like a wounded animal, spewing out her sweaters.
In the ensuing silence, the steady drip of water from the broken faucet could be heard.
The chapter came to an almost irreversible end: Andrey left for his mother. Katya was left alone, but with the knowledge that a war for her apartment and her boundaries lay ahead.
After that evening, Ekaterina felt silence for the first time in a long time. No more strange socks on the radiator, no empty beer cans on the table. Even the refrigerator seemed more spacious—only her groceries, her order.
Andrey, as promised, moved in with his mother. For the first few days, he kept calling, pleading, “Let’s not do anything stupid.” Then his tone changed, and his dry text messages began to swirl with reproaches: “Think about Max,” “You don’t abandon your family like that,” “I’ll be back soon, we’ll discuss everything.”
But he didn’t return alone.
On Saturday evening, the doorbell rang. Katya opened it and froze: the entire delegation—Andrey, Maxim, and Nina Vasilyevna—was standing there. All three of them, as if at an emergency meeting.
“We need to talk,” Andrey declared, looking at her intently.
“Come in,” Katya replied evenly, inviting the uninvited guests into the house.
They sat in the living room. Maxim, lounging languidly in his chair, seemed to already feel like the rightful owner. Nina Vasilyevna sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap, as if she had arrived for an important audience. Andrey clutched his phone nervously.
“Katya,” he began, breaking the oppressive silence, “we’ve discussed everything. This is a joint family decision. You must transfer the apartment to Maxim.”
Katya remained silent, her eyes narrowed. She waited for what would follow.
“This isn’t a request,” her mother-in-law interjected haughtily. “It’s a necessity. Maxim has nowhere to live. You’re young, you have your whole life ahead of you. You and Andrey can take out a mortgage together. And this apartment is needed by someone in real trouble.”
“And who am I?” Katya rose abruptly from the sofa, no longer able to contain the anger seething within her. “Do you think I have no right to my own home? I worked for ten years, denying myself everything, to buy it!”
“Stop yelling,” Maxim winced, as if his peace of mind had been shattered. “Why are you so fixated on these walls?”
“Because these are MY walls!” Katya shouted, ready to fight for every inch of her territory. “And you won’t come back here!”
“If you don’t sign the documents amicably,” Andrey also stood up, his face contorted with anger, “I’ll sue. We’re family. The court will rule on my side.”
Katya burst out laughing, feeling a wave of anger rising within her.
“The court? On your side? The apartment was premarital. It was registered in my name before the wedding. No court in the world will give it to you.”
Andrey stopped short, as if he’d been slapped in the face. His mother-in-law jumped up from her seat, shaking with indignation.
“You’ll regret it! Women without families are lost! You’ll be left alone, useless!”
Katya stepped forward, her eyes flashing with a steely glint.
“Better alone than with you.”
She hurried into the hallway, threw open the closet, pulled out Andrey’s jacket, and tossed it by the threshold.
“Take it.” You’re free.
Andrey stood pale, his lips trembling. Maxim cursed, stood up, and left, slamming the door loudly. His mother-in-law muttered something about “shameless,” but Katya no longer heard her words.
The door slammed shut, cutting off the past.
A silence fell over the apartment—a real, ringing silence. Ekaterina, exhausted, leaned her back against the door and suddenly burst into tears. But these were not tears of despair or grief, but tears of relief. For the first time in a long time, she felt at home again.
