“Were you too lazy to stop by the store, dear guests? Then I’m too lazy to feed you,” the hostess snapped.
Alena had just kicked off her work shoes when the sharp ring of the intercom cut through the evening silence of the apartment. The voice on the other end sounded cheerful and carefree:
“We’re almost there! Open up!”
Tatiana. Her sister-in-law. Who never thought it necessary to announce her visits in advance. Alena looked at herself in the mirror in confusion—her face tired after a shift at the hospital, her hair disheveled. She just wanted to collapse onto the sofa and not move until morning.
“Who is it?” Oleg asked from the kitchen, not looking up from his newspaper.
“Your sister and the kids,” Alena pressed the lock button. “Apparently, they’ve come to visit.”
Her husband only grunted and turned the page. For Oleg, this was routine—relatives appeared unexpectedly, and somehow all the arrangements for hosting and feeding them automatically fell on his wife’s shoulders.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Alena opened it to see Tatiana with two children—ten-year-old Maxim and eight-year-old Kristina. The sister-in-law carried only a single sports bag, clearly packed with clothes.
“Hi!” Tatiana stepped into the hallway, taking off her light jacket. “It was so hot on the train! We barely made it.”
The children shuffled silently behind their mother, examining the apartment. Kristina yawned and rubbed her eyes with her fist.
“Come in,” Alena stepped aside. “Where’s your luggage? Your bags?”
“This is all we have,” Tatiana waved her hand. “We’re not staying long. Just a few days. Oh, everything at the station was so expensive! We didn’t have time to stop at the store, the train was leaving.”
Alena nodded, though something inside her twisted unpleasantly. A few days without groceries meant she’d have to cook with what was in the fridge. And a trip to the supermarket had been planned for the weekend.
Oleg came out of the kitchen and hugged his sister.
“How was the trip? Did you get here okay?”
“Fine, fine,” Tatiana smiled. “The kids are tired, of course. They’re hungry.”
“I’ll make something right away,” Alena replied automatically. “Come in, make yourselves comfortable.”
She led the guests to the living room, quickly removing magazines and cushions from the sofa. Oleg turned on the TV for the kids and disappeared back into the kitchen with his newspaper.
“Do you mind if we sleep here?” Tatiana sank into an armchair. “The sofa looks comfortable.”
“Of course,” Alena nodded. “I’ll bring the bedding right away.”
In the fridge, she found chicken that had been planned for tomorrow’s dinner, some vegetables, and grains. Alena took out a frying pan and started cooking. Outside, it was getting dark, and fatigue weighed so heavily that her hands barely held the knife.
“Mom, what’s for dinner?” Maxim peeked into the kitchen.
“It’ll be ready soon,” Alena smiled at him. “Just be patient a little.”
Half an hour later, plates of fried chicken, rice, and tomato salad were on the table. Tatiana sat down with the air of a weary traveler, deserving special attention.
“It smells delicious!” the sister-in-law said, serving herself a generous portion. “I thought we’d go hungry today.”
The children ate quietly, focused. Oleg chewed absentmindedly, glancing at his phone. Alena sat and watched the food disappear, which should have lasted two days.
“Thank you, it’s very tasty,” Maxim said, finishing his compote.
“You’re welcome,” Alena patted his head. At least someone had said thank you.
After dinner, Tatiana settled on the sofa with her phone, and the children ran around the apartment. Kristina found some old toys in the closet and scattered them across the floor. Maxim turned on a tablet and immersed himself in a game.
Alena cleared the table, washed the dishes, and then put bedding for the guests in the washing machine. Oleg went to bed, muttering,
“They’re family. We’ll survive a couple of days.”
By eleven o’clock, Alena finally tucked the children into the sofa bed and made it up for them. Tatiana settled into the armchair-bed, which had to be unfolded specifically.
“Good night,” Alena said, turning off the light.
“Good night,” the sister-in-law replied. “And thanks for dinner.”
Alena lay down next to her husband, who was already snoring. Tomorrow would be work again, which meant getting up early. And the guests would be at home, needing breakfast, lunch, and dinner. From whatever was left in the fridge.
In the morning, Alena got up at half past six, as usual. In the kitchen, she found Tatiana standing by the open fridge with a discontented expression.
“What do you have to eat here?” the sister-in-law asked. “The kids are awake and asking for breakfast.”
“I’ll make breakfast right away,” Alena turned on the kettle. “Do you have any preferences?”
“No, whatever’s available,” Tatiana shrugged. “Just something hearty for the kids. Maxim doesn’t fill up without meat.”
There was no meat. Alena fried some eggs, sliced the cheese and sausage she had saved for the weekend, brewed tea, and brought out some cookies. The children ate with appetite; Tatiana ate slowly, examining the contents of her plate.
“What time do you get home from work?” the sister-in-law asked.
“Usually around half past six,” Alena replied, finishing her tea standing up. “Why?”
“Just curious. We’ll probably take the kids out during the day. See the city.”
Oleg ate breakfast in silence and left for work. Alena also got ready and went to the hospital, leaving the guests at home. All day, she was tormented by the thought—what were they eating there? And what would dinner be like?
In the evening, Alena returned home to find the kitchen in chaos. Crumbs on the table, dirty dishes in the sink, spilled tea on the stove. Tatiana was sitting in the living room with her phone, while the children watched cartoons.
“How was your day?” Alena asked, taking off her jacket.
“Fine,” the sister-in-law replied without looking up from the screen. “We went out, were in the park. The kids had ice cream.”
“And lunch?”
“Oh, we found something in the fridge. Maxim fried some eggs.”
Alena peeked into the refrigerator. Empty. Completely empty, except for some mustard and a jar of jam. Dinner would have to be made again that evening—but there was nothing to cook with.
“Oleg,” Alena called quietly, summoning her husband to the bedroom. “We need to go to the store. There’s no food left at all.”
“Well, go then,” Oleg didn’t even lift his eyes from the newspaper. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I’ve been feeding your relatives for three days straight from my salary, and they don’t even say thank you.”
“Why are you getting worked up?” her husband finally looked at her. “Can’t you endure two days? These are my nephews.”
“It’s already the third day, Oleg. And not one of them has even offered to contribute to the groceries.”
“Well, ask them.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask! It’s basic courtesy to come to someone’s home with groceries, or at least offer to go to the store.”
Oleg shrugged and buried his face back in the newspaper. The conversation was over.
Alena went to the store alone. She spent two thousand rubles on groceries for everyone. At home, she prepared dinner—stewed meat with potatoes. Tatiana ate with appetite, praising her:
“How domestic you are! You really know how to cook.”
The children ate quietly again. After dinner, Alena cleaned the kitchen while the guests watched television.
“Are you going to the store tomorrow?” Alena asked the sister-in-law cautiously.
“Why?” Tatiana looked surprised. “You cook so well yourself. We wouldn’t manage. And the kids like your food better anyway…”
Alena nodded and said nothing. Inside, something hot and heavy was slowly boiling.
On the fourth morning, Alena woke with a firm decision. She got up, dressed, and packed into a bag all the edible items from the fridge—leftover cheese, a couple of apples, some cookies. She left an open jar of jam, stale bread, and mustard on the shelf.
Oleg was still asleep. The guests were too. Alena quietly left the apartment and went to work.
That evening, Alena returned home later than usual. The apartment was strangely quiet, the kind of silence that follows a storm. The air felt thin, as if something important had happened in the hostess’s absence.
In the kitchen, only a single pot with leftover boiled water lay in the sink. On the table sat a teaspoon and an empty jam jar, carefully scraped to the bottom. No other signs of cooking were visible.
Oleg sat in the living room with an expression as if the whole world had turned against him personally. His face was offended, his brows furrowed so deeply a crease ran between them.
“We ate sandwiches all day,” Oleg said as Alena walked by. “You could have at least warned us.”
Alena calmly took off her jacket and hung it in the closet. She didn’t reply. She went to the kitchen and opened the fridge—emptiness, just as expected. Only mustard and leftover bread remained.
“Alena!” Tatiana called from the living room. “I need to talk to you.”
The sister-in-law entered the kitchen with a determined expression. The children sat on the sofa, silently watching cartoons, trying not to attract attention.
“I thought you were a normal hostess,” Tatiana began, crossing her arms. “But this is how you treat family. We don’t come to you every day. It’s just rude—leaving guests without food.”
Alena turned and looked at her sister-in-law attentively. Tatiana stood there, convinced she was right.
“You were too lazy to stop by the store, dear guests? Then I’m too lazy to feed you,” Alena said quietly, without raising her voice.
“What?!” Tatiana opened her mouth in surprise. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely serious.”
“But we’re family!” Tatiana began waving her arms. “Family ties mean nothing? Hospitality? And Mom? Mom would never have done this! She always had a full table for relatives!”
“Then go to your mother,” Alena said calmly.
“Alena!” Oleg entered the kitchen. “Maybe you went too far? You should have handled it more gently. They brought the kids, after all.”
Alena slowly turned to her husband. She looked at him long and carefully, as if seeing him for the first time.
“If you want—go chase them,” Alena said measuredly. “But nobody’s living here at my expense. Nobody. Ever.”
Oleg opened his mouth to argue, but his wife had already turned and gone to the bedroom. The door clicked shut behind her.
Tatiana stood in the kitchen, glancing from the empty fridge to the bedroom door. Then she sighed heavily and went to the living room to the children.
“Mom, are we going home?” Kristina asked quietly.
“Yes, we’ll leave tomorrow,” Tatiana replied curtly.
In the morning, no one had breakfast. Tatiana silently packed the children’s things, while Maxim and Kristina sat on the sofa, ready to leave. Oleg helped carry the luggage to the elevator, but the farewell was silent. No hugs, no kisses, no invitations to come again.
“Well, bye,” Tatiana said as the elevator doors opened.
“Bye,” Oleg replied shortly.
The children waved and disappeared behind the closing doors.
For the next two days, Oleg moved around the apartment quietly, like a mouse. He cooked himself dumplings from the freezer, carefully cleaned up afterward. He read the newspaper silently and watched TV with headphones on. He glanced at his wife secretly but didn’t start any conversation.
On the third day, the husband went to the store himself. He brought back two bags of groceries and placed them on the kitchen table without comment. Since then, Tatiana’s name was never mentioned in the house.
Alena returned to her usual rhythm of life. She cooked exactly for two, with no extra. She bought groceries according to a weekly list. She waited for no one and adapted to no one.
On the weekend, Oleg suggested:
“Maybe we could go to the movies?”
“Good idea,” Alena agreed.
Her husband bought tickets and popcorn. They sat side by side in the theater, watching a comedy. They laughed in all the same places. Afterwards, they went to a café, ordered coffee and dessert.
“You know,” Oleg said, stirring sugar into his cup, “I realized something.”
“What?”
“Being family isn’t a reason to violate boundaries.”
Alena nodded and sipped her coffee. She didn’t say she had realized this long ago. She just nodded.
A month later, Tatiana called Oleg. She wanted to visit during the May holidays with the kids. Oleg said he would think about it and call back. He never did.
Alena’s fridge was no longer a free-for-all food source for guests. The groceries were now only for those who understood a simple truth: respect doesn’t start with family ties—it starts with basic courtesy, like stopping by the store before sitting down at someone else’s table.
Alena stopped trying to be convenient for everyone. And life became much calmer.
