— What do you mean, “buy food for your relatives”? — the wife asked coldly, looking at the empty fridge.
— Your things are by the door, the keys are on the table, and I don’t want to see your face here! — Evelina’s voice trembled with anger as she threw yet another bag of the uninvited guests’ belongings into the hallway.
— Eva, have you completely lost your mind? These are my relatives! — Ignat tried to block her path, but his wife pushed him aside with her shoulder.
— Exactly! YOUR relatives! And who am I here? Free help?
— Evelina, snap out of it! What will the neighbors think?
— I don’t care about the neighbors! You should have thought about that earlier when you allowed them to make a mess here!
Ignat watched in confusion as his wife methodically packed his relatives’ things into bags. Outside the door, the indignant voices of Tamara and Petr could be heard.
— Eva, maybe we should sit down and talk calmly?
— Talk? About what? About how I’ve been humiliated for three weeks under your careful supervision?
Three weeks before this scandal, the Kozhemyakin apartment had been filled with the usual evening calm. Evelina was preparing dinner, chopping vegetables for a salad, thinking about weekend plans. Ignat entered the kitchen, looking guilty — she immediately realized that something unpleasant had happened.
— Evka, here’s the thing… Aunt Tamara called. Their renovations dragged on, and they have nowhere to stay. I told them they could stay with us for a week or two.
Evelina froze with the knife in her hand, slowly turning to her husband:
— What did you say? Without asking me first?
— Come on, it’s family! Aunt Tamara, Uncle Petr, and Marinka. They’re quiet; you won’t even notice them.
— Ignat, let me remind you — we have a two-room apartment! Where do you plan to put three adults?
— Well, Marinka can sleep on the folding bed in the living room, and aunt and uncle… — he hesitated, avoiding his wife’s gaze, — maybe we give them our bedroom? We’re young, we can sleep on the couch.
Evelina put down the knife and slowly wiped her hands with a towel:
— Are you seriously suggesting I sleep on the couch in my own apartment? Maybe I should stay in the kitchen too?
— Eva, why do you take everything so drastically! Just two weeks at most! They’re in trouble, and what — should we refuse?
— And you couldn’t have asked me beforehand?
— What’s there to ask? Of course you would have agreed! You’re kind.
— So the decision is made. Wonderful.
— Excellent! They’ll arrive tomorrow.
The next day, barely having returned from work, Evelina heard the doorbell. She opened it and saw the trio with huge suitcases and bags, as if they were coming for a month, not two weeks.
— Evочка! — Tamara Kozhemyakina beamed, a heavyset woman of about fifty with brightly painted lips and gold teeth that glimmered with every word. — Oh, you’ve gotten so thin! Ignatik isn’t feeding you properly, is he?
— Hello, Aunt Tamara, — Evelina tried to sound welcoming. — Welcome.
— Tell me, where’s the bathroom? — Petr asked bluntly, a man with a red face and a distinct smell of alcohol, even at this early hour.
— Dad, don’t be stupid! — snorted Marinka, a twenty-five-year-old girl in bright leopard leggings and bold makeup. — Obviously, there’s a door in the hallway. And where’s our room, Aunt Eva? Our master bedroom, right?
— Actually, we were thinking… — Evelina began, but Tamara had already walked further into the apartment, surveying the place.
— Ignatik, son! — she shouted across the apartment. — Come out and greet your relatives!
Ignat ran out of the living room, smiling brightly:
— Aunt Toma! Uncle Petya! Marinka! How was the journey?
— Fine, just terribly tired, — Marinka replied. — Where can we lie down?
— Oh, how lovely! — Tamara was already looking at the bedroom. — The wallpaper is a bit gloomy, but two weeks will do. Petrusha, bring in the suitcases!
— Aunt Tamara, maybe we should first discuss who sleeps where? — Evelina timidly suggested.
— Discuss what? We’re adults; we need a proper bed. I have sciatica, I don’t sleep on the couch. Right, Ignatik?
— Of course, Aunt Toma! Eva, we’ll stay in the living room. Right, dear?
Evelina silently nodded, realizing that protesting was pointless.
The first week turned into an absolute nightmare. Tamara established herself as the rightful mistress, rummaging through all the kitchen cabinets, rearranging the dishes to her liking, and completely consuming the strategic reserves of canned goods and grains.
— Evочка, dear, what kind of groceries are these? — she complained at seven in the morning, banging pots and bowls. — Just buckwheat and rice! Where’s the pearl barley? Where’s the peas? And proper canned meat?
— Aunt Tamara, we buy what we actually eat… And maybe a little quieter? Today’s Saturday…
— What’s wrong with that? Normal people get up early, they don’t lounge around until noon! Petrusha, get up, it’s breakfast time!
Petr appeared from the bedroom wearing only family underwear, his hairy bare stomach visible, scratching and yawning:
— Why are you shouting so early? My head’s splitting; let me sleep.
— Uncle Petr, maybe you could get dressed? — Evelina asked, averting her eyes from the unappetizing sight.
— Why should I? I walk around the house as I please! It’s hot!
— But this isn’t your house!
— Eva, what a tone! — Ignat immediately intervened, appearing beside her. — Sorry, Uncle Petr, she just didn’t get enough sleep on the couch.
— Never mind, she’ll get used to it, — Petr waved generously. — So, what’s there to eat?
By the end of the first week, Evelina realized that she wasn’t living in her own apartment anymore but in some kind of dormitory. Marinka had taken over the bathroom, hanging her laundry everywhere; Petr smoked on the balcony despite protests, and Tamara rearranged the living room furniture to her taste.
— Aunt Tamara, could we not move the furniture? — Evelina asked cautiously.
— Oh, dear! It was so inconvenient before! Now you can see the TV better, and I placed the sofa just right.
— But I was comfortable the way it was…
— You’ll get used to it! Young people adapt quickly. For us older folks, it’s harder.
On the eighth day, Evelina returned from work to find all her cosmetics missing from the bathroom.
— Marinka, have you seen my makeup?
— Oh, that! — the girl waved it off casually. — I tried your mascara, it’s amazing! And the cream’s good too, too bad it’s running out.
— Running out? It was nearly full!
— Well, I let my friends try it. Don’t be stingy, Aunt Eva, beauty requires sacrifices!
— That was expensive makeup!
— Well then, good thing I appreciated it, — Marinka laughed. — Buy more if it’s so good.
On the tenth day, Marinka brought a friend, Svetlana — a dyed blonde in a miniskirt, with a kilogram of makeup on her face. They settled in the living room and stayed up until three in the morning, listening to music, laughing, and chatting.
— Marinka, girls, please keep it down, — Evelina asked, stepping out in her robe. — I have work early tomorrow.
— Aunt Eva, don’t be such a bore! — Svetlana giggled, eyeing the apartment owner with an assessing glance. — We’re young, we need to have fun! Life’s short!
— She’s just jealous that we’re beautiful and young, and she’s already… — Marinka whispered loudly, pointing at her temple.
— I’m only thirty-two!
— See, I told you — already done for! — Marinka laughed. — At thirty, a woman’s life is over. Svetka, let’s go to Borya, the neighbor downstairs. It’s more fun there, and no nagging aunt.
— Is he cute? — Svetlana asked.
— Normal, divorced. And best of all — no annoying relatives!
They left, slamming the door, and returned at three in the morning, waking the entire building with drunken singing and the clatter of heels.
— Ignat, this can’t go on any longer! — Evelina caught her husband in the hallway as he was leaving for work. — They’ve turned our apartment into a thoroughfare!
— Just bear with it a little longer. What can I say to them? “Get out”? That would be rude to relatives!
— And what’s going on here — is that polite? Yesterday your aunt ate the cake I bought for a colleague’s birthday! I had to run around at eight in the evening looking for a bakery!
— So what? We bought a new one. What’s the problem?
— The problem is that you constantly defend them! And I’m nobody here! A stranger in my own home!
— Eva, why are you getting worked up? They’re family! Yesterday, my mother called asking how Aunt Tamara was settling in. What am I supposed to tell her — that we threw her out on the street?
At that moment, a deafening crash and shouting came from the kitchen. They rushed in and saw Petr, who had dropped a large pot of borscht. Red liquid spread across the floor, and shards of a plate were scattered everywhere.
— Oops, — he hiccuped, holding onto the doorframe. — Eva, clean this up quickly. I’m going to be late for work.
— Clean up your own mess!
— How dare you speak to your elders like that? — Tamara appeared in a greasy robe, outraged. — Ignat, your wife doesn’t know any boundaries!
— Eva, apologize to your uncle, — Ignat said quietly but firmly.
— What?! Apologize for what?
— For your rudeness. Don’t make the situation worse.
Evelina silently took the mop and began cleaning up someone else’s mess, seething with indignation.
Two days later, Klavdiya, Ignat’s mother, arrived. Evelina genuinely hoped for her mother-in-law’s support — a woman known for her common sense and fairness. However, barely stepping through the door, she immediately sided with the relatives.
— Evelina, what do you think you’re doing? — she began. — Tamara called me in tears! She said you’re driving them out of the house!
— Klavdiya Petrovna, they’ve been here for two and a half weeks already, — Evelina tried to explain, helping her mother-in-law take off her coat. — You see, it was supposed to be only a few days…
— And what of it? They’re family! — she interrupted, critically scanning the hallway. — When you married Ignat, you knew he had a large family! And now you turn your nose at relatives?
— I’m not driving anyone out! — Evelina retorted, leading her mother-in-law into the kitchen. — I just want to live in my own apartment in peace, to be able to rest properly after work…
— Properly means putting family first! — Klavdiya snapped. — Not some personal whims! Ignat, son, come here!
Ignat appeared from the room, clearly anticipating an unpleasant conversation.
— Listen carefully, — his mother continued, fixing him with a stern gaze. — Maybe you should consider changing your wife? To someone more compliant and family-oriented?
— Mom, why are you saying this… — Ignat began, but she cut him off.
— What’s the big deal? Look at how wonderfully Marinka cooks! She runs the household, and her character is so sweet and easygoing!
At that moment, Marinka appeared from the bedroom wearing Evelina’s silk robe — an expensive gift from her husband for her last birthday.
— Oh, Baba Klava! — the girl exclaimed cheerfully, kissing the elderly woman on both cheeks. — I’m so glad to see you! I’ll make some fresh tea. Aunt Eva, do you happen to have any cookies left? Oh, right, I ate the last ones yesterday while watching a series.
Evelina silently observed this scene, realizing that she could expect support from no one.
— See? — Klavdiya said triumphantly. — Now that’s what I call a real woman! Hospitable, caring!
— Oh, come on, Baba Klava! — Marinka laughed awkwardly, starting to fuss with the teapot. — I’m not the hostess here, I’m just trying to help Aunt Eva. Though, of course, if it were my house, I’d change a lot. For example, these curtains — too gloomy. And the wall color…
— This is my house, — Evelina said quietly but firmly.
— For now, — Klavdiya remarked meaningfully.
On the twentieth day of the “guests’” stay, Evelina returned from work earlier than usual — she had been released due to a plumbing emergency. Climbing the stairs, she heard loud music and laughter coming from their apartment as early as the second floor.
Opening the door, she froze in shock. The living room was in utter chaos: empty wine and beer bottles were scattered everywhere, and on her favorite Persian rug — brought from their wedding trip to Iran — there was a huge dark stain. The coffee table was covered with cigarette butts and food remnants.
Entering the bedroom, Evelina found an unfamiliar young man sprawled on her bed in dirty boots, leafing through her personal diary.
— Excuse me, who are you? — she asked in disbelief.
— I’m Vadik, Marinka’s buddy, — he muttered without looking up from reading. — Why are you so tense?
— I’m the owner of this apartment! And I demand that you leave my home immediately!
— Chill out, lady! — Vadik snickered, finally looking at her. — Marinka said I could hang out here. She’s the boss, right?
— NO! I’m the boss! And you will leave right now!
— OUT OF MY HOUSE! — Evelina screamed at the top of her lungs.
Tamara immediately rushed in, accompanied by Petr and Marinka.
— What’s all the fuss? — the husband’s aunt complained. — Evelina, have you completely lost your mind? This is a guest of our dear Marinka!
— I don’t care at all! I want everyone out of my apartment!
— Aunt Eva, you’re overreacting, — Marinka interjected in a patronizing tone. — Vadik just came to meet the parents. We’ve been seeing each other for six months.
— In my bedroom? On my bed?
— Ignat! — Tamara shouted. — Come here immediately! Your irrational wife is putting on a circus again!
Ignat strolled out of the kitchen slowly, chewing a sandwich with red caviar — the very one Evelina had saved for a romantic dinner with him.
— Eva, what’s going on? — Ignat asked lazily.
— What’s going on?! WHAT’S GOING ON?! — her voice broke into a scream. — There’s a drunken stranger in our bedroom, the apartment has been turned into a dump, and my husband asks me what’s going on!
— Vadik’s a good guy, — Marinka defended her friend. — He was just a little nervous meeting everyone, had a drink for courage, and now he’s resting.
— IN MY BED! With dirty boots! Reading MY personal diary!
— So what! — the girl snorted dismissively. — Bedding can be washed. And a diary… who keeps a diary these days? So childish!
Evelina felt something inside her snap — something that had kept her within the bounds of decency for the past three weeks.
— THAT’S IT! Enough! The show is over! — she threw open all the windows in the apartment. — We’re airing this place out! EVERYONE LEAVES! Right now!
She decisively marched into the guest room and began throwing the uninvited guests’ belongings into a large travel bag.
— What are you doing, crazy woman?! — Petr shouted, trying to grab his shirt from her.
— Doing what should have been done three weeks ago! OUT! Every single one of you!
— Evelina! — Klavdiya cried sternly, appearing in the doorway. — Stop this nonsense immediately!
— Klavdiya Petrovna, with all due respect, but you can LEAVE TOO, — Evelina replied without stopping, stuffing Marinka’s cosmetics into the bag.
— Ignat! — Tamara screeched. — Calm down your hysterical wife!
— Eva, stop! These are my relatives! — her husband tried to intervene.
— Wonderful! — Evelina turned to him, holding Tamara’s suitcase. — Take your precious relatives and follow them OUT!
— Are you suggesting I leave my own home?
— I’m suggesting you make a choice! — Evelina pushed another bag into the hallway. — Either you’re a MAN and the master of this house, or a PUSSY who allows his family to be treated like a thoroughfare! You have exactly seven days to think about it!
— Aunt Eva, you can’t kick us out! — Marinka protested. — Our tickets aren’t until next week!
— CHANGE THEM! — Evelina snapped, placing the last suitcase outside the door. — Take the bus or walk! I don’t care!
She firmly slammed the door and turned the key twice.
— Evelina! Open the door immediately! — Ignat pounded. — You have no right!
— I do! This is MY apartment; I bought it before the wedding! — she shouted through the door. — Seven days, Ignat! Exactly one week to figure out your priorities!
— Crazy woman! — Tamara yelled from outside. — We’re not done with you yet!
— Oh yes, we are done! And may your feet never set foot here again! — Evelina replied, turning up the music loudly for emphasis.
The next three days were the calmest she had experienced in the past month. Evelina slowly tidied up the apartment, enjoying the silence, eating whatever she wanted, watching her favorite films, and not hearing constant commentary about her “unfemininity” or “selfishness.”
On the fourth day, the neighbor Boris called.
— Evelina, is everything okay over there? — he asked, concerned. — The Kozhemyakins have been arguing under my door for the past two hours. Klavdiya Petrovna is telling the whole stairwell what an ungrateful daughter-in-law you are.
— Let her tell whoever she wants, Boris, — Evelina replied calmly, sipping tea with her favorite lemon cookies. — Just not in my house.
— And Ignat? He’s with them, right?
— I assume so. He made his choice.
— Wow… — the neighbor sighed. — I never thought things would be this bad for you.
— They’re not bad, Boris. They’re just over.
A week later, on the exact day, Evelina received a message from Ignat: “Eva, you were right. They are unbearable. Tamara has already argued with my mother, Marinka broke my mother’s favorite vase and was rude to the neighbor. Can I come home?”
“No,” she replied briefly.
“But I’m your husband! We have a family!”
“We had a family. Divorce papers are already with the lawyer. I’ll file the application tomorrow.”
“Eva, don’t be silly! We can discuss everything, find a compromise!”
“Three weeks ago, that was possible. Now it’s too late.”
“You won’t find another husband like me!”
“What wonderful news. I definitely won’t find such a wimp.”
A month and a half later, Boris dropped by for coffee and shared the latest news.
— You want to know what happened to your former relatives? — he smirked, settling into a chair. — Tamara and her family sued Ignat. Apparently, he had temporarily registered them all at his mother’s place to “show concern for the family.” Now he can’t evict them — they’re demanding equivalent housing.
— Seriously? — Evelina asked in surprise.
— Absolutely! Klavdiya Petrovna now causes a scandal every day, demanding they move out. And they’re not budging. Marinka even moved her boyfriend in; the whole gang now lives in the two-room apartment.
— Karma is a bitch, — Evelina smirked, sipping coffee in her quiet, clean apartment.
— What? — Boris didn’t understand.
— Nothing. Just sometimes, justice exists.
