On my birthday, my sister-in-law claimed I lived off the family — but her words turned against her
Anna woke up to the sound of a baby crying and instinctively glanced at the clock — half past six in the morning. Thirty-two years old, her birthday, and it was starting the usual way: by feeding five-month-old Artyom.
The baby cried insistently, waving his tiny fists, and Anna thought that motherhood meant even holidays followed the rhythm of feedings.
Sasha had already left for work — the business required daily supervision. Three 24-hour car washes in different parts of the city, reliable partners, but without the owner’s eye, any venture could become unprofitable.
After feeding, Anna prepared breakfast. Katya had stayed over — it was late yesterday when they finished discussing plans for the birthday. At noon, her husband brought out the hidden cake, and Anna made a wish and blew out the modest candle. Her sister-in-law had decided not to return to her studio.
“Katya, up you get!” Anna knocked on the guest room door. “You have university today.”
“I only have one class,” came a sleepy voice through the door. “A seminar on journalism theory — I can skip it.”
At twenty-one, she fancied herself a seasoned professional, talking about media spaces and global trends, yet somehow didn’t grasp basic everyday responsibilities.
The story of the sister-in-law’s move began two years earlier, when she was admitted to a Moscow university. The dormitory was far from the center, and the living conditions were unacceptable for a young woman.
Rent an apartment — but why? Sasha suggested his sister temporarily stay in Anna’s studio. A small apartment, only twenty-three square meters, but the location was excellent — ten minutes to the metro, almost in the city center.
Anna had bought that studio before marriage, at twenty-six. They had sold her grandmother’s two-room apartment, her parents added their savings, and Anna had managed to save up a bit herself. It turned out to be a solid investment. A newly built building, modern renovation, windows facing a quiet courtyard — peaceful and cozy.
After the purchase, Anna immediately began renting out the studio to students. At first for forty thousand, later she raised it to fifty. A steady little income that helped a lot in everyday life — she could afford better vacations, nicer clothes, and didn’t have to count every penny or hunt for supermarket discounts.
Then the sister-in-law moved in. Anna lost a stable monthly income of fifty thousand rubles. Now, during maternity leave, she felt that loss especially sharply.
Not that the family was struggling. Sasha earned well from the car washes — the business was gradually expanding. Anna received maternity benefits and partial compensation from her employer — her company valued its skilled employees. But an extra fifty thousand a month would have made life noticeably more comfortable, especially with a small child.
Different people paid for all of Katya’s expenses — but never Katya herself. Her mother — Sasha and Katya’s mom — paid for university tuition. Tutors in English, French, and Chinese — a major expense.
Utilities in the studio, internet, mobile phone bills were covered by Sasha. Katya bought food with the money her brother regularly transferred to her card. Plus pocket money — cafés with friends, taxis, clothes, cosmetics, entertainment. It all added up to thirty thousand a month, sometimes more.
The sister-in-law categorically refused to work. Studying, she argued, was her main occupation, and part-time jobs only distracted from gaining knowledge.
And indeed, she studied well — mostly B’s and A’s, excellent in languages. Her professors praised her, her classmates respected her. But all this brilliance was paid for by her relatives.
By evening, Anna had prepared a festive dinner. Nothing special — Olivier salad, herring under a fur coat, a hot dish, and a bakery cake. A small birthday in a close circle, without pomp or unnecessary spending. She only invited her closest friends — people her age, with whom she felt comfortable.
Sasha returned from work tired but in good spirits. Things were going well at the car washes; they even had steady corporate clients now. The partners turned out to be competent, each responsible for their part. The prospects were promising, though demanding constant effort and time.
Katya appeared from the bathroom just as the guests arrived. She was wearing a new dress — Sasha’s gift from last week. Expensive, stylish, and very flattering on her. She looked perfect — young, beautiful, confident. At twenty-one, the whole world seems ready to be conquered.
The first to arrive were Irina and her husband Denis — Anna’s former colleagues. Then Lena and Maxim joined them — neighbors they had befriended even before Artyom was born. A small group, all the same age, all in similar life situations — careers, families, plans for the future.
They sat down at the table, opened the sparkling wine, and congratulated the birthday girl. Anna received juice. The conversation flowed naturally — work, vacation plans, news about mutual acquaintances. Artyom slept in the nursery, occasionally letting out a sound, but not disturbing the celebration.
Katya had taken center stage in the conversation from the very beginning. She pulled out her phone, showed photos from the university, talked about her professors, and shared the latest news. She spoke a lot, passionately, with the youthful maximalism typical of her age. The guests listened with interest — youth is always attractive, especially when it’s full of energy and ambition.
“And girls, we have such plans for the summer!” Katya’s eyes lit up with a special sparkle. “We’re going to Lake Baikal with a big group. Imagine — two weeks in nature, tents, campfires, real romance!”
“That sounds wonderful,” Irina smiled. “I’ve always dreamed of going there, but somehow it never worked out.”
“Oh, it’s going to be unforgettable! There’ll be eight of us, all from our group. We’ll rent two cars — definitely SUVs, so we can drive through the mountain roads. And we plan to rent ATVs for a few days — they say riding them through the forest trails around there is absolutely amazing.”
Katya scrolled through photos online, showing views of Baikal, mountain landscapes, tourist routes. She admired the beauty of nature and talked about the group’s plans with such enthusiasm it felt like the trip was already set in stone.
“And also,” she continued, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, “Nastya and Anya want to take a helicopter tour. They say the views from above are out of this world. I’m still afraid — heights are a problem for me, but maybe I’ll go for it anyway. Such an opportunity might never happen again.”
Anna listened to her sister-in-law’s stories and mentally calculated the costs. A month ago, her friend Svetlana had told her in detail about her own trip to Baikal with her husband. They spent around three hundred thousand rubles for the two of them — and that was without anything extravagant: just decent lodging, standard excursions, and normal meals. And now here were eight students with such ambitious plans…
“And what about the finances?” Anna asked carefully. “It must be quite an expensive trip.”
“Oh, nothing special,” Katya waved her hand carelessly. “We’re saving bit by bit and pooling money. Besides, I’m a top student — I deserve to be spoiled.”
“And approximately how much does it come to per person?”
Katya paused for a second, clearly doing the math in her head:
“Well, we haven’t calculated exactly yet. Maybe around a hundred fifty thousand, two hundred. Depends on the program we choose.”
“And with all your extra activities?” Anna pressed gently. “Car rentals, ATVs, helicopter tours — those aren’t cheap.”
Katya tensed slightly, sensing a hidden trap in the questions:
“Well, maybe it will be more. Why, is something wrong?”
“No, I’m just curious. It’s quite a serious amount for students.”
“We’re not some kind of paupers,” Katya said with mild irritation. “We’re normal people — we can afford a good vacation.”
“Of course,” Anna agreed. “I’m just curious how you’re financing such a trip. Are you working or doing part-time jobs?”
“Oh, don’t be silly!” Katya laughed. “What work, when we’re studying? Our program is very intense — languages, internships. There’s no time for part-time jobs.”
“Then where is the money for Baikal coming from?”
Katya hesitated, clearly realizing she’d cornered herself:
“Well… the family will help. Our parents understand that young people should enjoy life.”
“Your parents are ready to fork out a quarter of a million for your vacation?”
“A quarter of a million?!” Katya exclaimed indignantly. “Where are you getting such numbers?”
“From real life. If you calculate all your plans honestly, it won’t be less. Maybe even more.”
A tense silence fell over the table. The guests sensed the conversation was turning unpleasant. Sasha was watching his sister closely, waiting for her response.
“So what?” Katya straightened in her chair, taking a combative posture. “We have enough money for a proper vacation.”
“We?” Anna repeated…
“Of course!” Katya’s voice grew louder. “And anyway, who was I supposed to discuss it with? You’re asking all these questions — but what’s the point? Is Sasha willing to pay for this trip or not?”
Anna felt a chill spread through her chest.
“Sasha, in your opinion, is supposed to pay for your vacation?” she asked quietly.
“Who else?!” Katya snapped, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Mom is on leave now, she has her own expenses. Sasha is my brother, he’s responsible for me. Or are you against helping your husband’s own sister?”
The guests exchanged uneasy glances, not knowing where to look. The festive atmosphere was rapidly falling apart, the conversation turning into a scandal.
“Katya,” Anna said carefully, “expenses like this should be discussed in advance. A quarter of a million rubles is a very large amount of money.”
“For whom is it large?” the sister-in-law shouted.
“It’s not your money, Katya.”
“How is it not mine? It’s family money! And who are you, the keeper of the family budget?”
“I just think that—”
“And who do you think you are to tell me anything?” Katya lost the last shred of self-control. “You’re living off my brother! Sitting on maternity leave, Sasha fully supports you! And I’m not allowed even to have a proper vacation?”
A deathly silence fell over the room. Sasha froze with his glass in hand, staring wide-eyed at his sister. The guests sat motionless, stunned by what they had heard. Anna’s face turned white as chalk.
“Repeat what you just said,” she said quietly.
“What I said!” Katya repeated stubbornly, realizing she had gone too far but refusing to back down. “You’re on maternity leave, not earning anything, Sasha provides everything for you on a silver platter. And I need to study, learn languages, build my future!”
Anna slowly rose from the table and walked to the window. She stood there silently, looking out at the evening city, gathering her thoughts. Then she turned to her sister-in-law, and everyone saw cold steel in her eyes.
“All right, Katya. Let’s sort out who here lives at whose expense.”
“Let’s,” Katya challenged her.
“You live in my apartment,” Anna began in a calm, businesslike tone. “In the studio I bought when I was twenty-six.”
Katya said nothing, but her face began to pale.
“Do you pay me rent for that apartment?”
“No, but—”
“No. Not a single ruble. Before you moved in, I was renting out that studio. Fifty thousand rubles a month in stable income. In the two years you’ve lived there, I’ve lost one million two hundred thousand rubles. And that’s only the lost income — not counting utilities.”
“Who pays for your university tuition?” Anna continued methodically.
“Mom,” Katya whispered barely audibly.
“Correct. Four hundred thousand rubles a year. Plus tutors for three languages. More than half a million spent on your education alone.”
“Utilities in the studio, internet, mobile service — who pays for that?”
“Sasha…”
“Sasha. That’s another twenty thousand a month, two hundred forty thousand a year. What do you buy groceries with?”
“With the money Sasha gives me…”
“With Sasha’s money. Pocket money — cafés, taxis, clothes, entertainment — also on his account. How much do you spend per month?”
Katya stayed silent, her lips trembling.
“Thirty thousand at minimum. I know, because Sasha tells me how much he transfers to your card. That’s three hundred sixty thousand rubles a year.”
Anna spoke clearly, each word hitting like a hammer:
She paused, calculating in her head. Then shook it slightly.
“You know what, Katya? Let’s add it up. Your mother pays for your university — half a million a year with tutors included. Sasha pays for your housing and gives you money — another six hundred thousand a year. And I lose income because of you — I could have been renting out my studio, earning every month.”
Katya sat red-faced, tears filling her eyes.
“Almost two million rubles a year spent on you alone. And you dare tell me that I am the one living off someone else?” Anna shook her head. “I’ve been on maternity leave for four months. Before that, I worked hard for five years, earned my salary, paid my taxes. Childcare benefits are my legal right. And you — how much have you earned in your entire life? Even a single ruble?”
“I’m studying!” Katya finally choked out.
“You’re studying on someone else’s money. You live on someone else’s money. You eat on someone else’s money. You entertain yourself on someone else’s money. And you have the nerve to accuse me of living off the family?”
Sasha put his glass down on the table and gave his sister a heavy, unyielding look.
“Katya, do you understand what you’ve just said?”
“Sasha, I didn’t mean—”
“You insulted my wife,” he said quietly but firmly. “On her birthday. In our home. A woman who has put up with your behavior for two years without a single complaint about the income she lost.”
“I didn’t mean to offend anyone…”
“Didn’t mean to? Then what did you mean? To get a quarter of a million for entertainment while humiliating the person who supports you?”
Katya burst into loud tears, but Anna remained unmoved:
“You know what, sister-in-law? Starting tomorrow, everything changes drastically.”
“What do you mean?”
“In two weeks you’re moving out of my apartment. To a dorm, a rented room, wherever you want — but not in my property.”
“Anna, why…?”
“All financial support from our side ends. Pocket money, grocery money, utility payments — everything stops.”
“But how am I supposed to live?”
“Those are your problems now. You’ll get a job, find part-time work. You’ll learn what real life costs and how much money is worth.”
“And my studies?”
“Your mother can continue paying for your education — that’s her decision. But we are no longer going to maintain you like a princess.”
Katya wept, clutching Sasha’s hand:
“Sasha, please say something! I didn’t mean it! It just slipped out!”
Sasha gently but firmly pulled his hand away:
“I fully support my wife. You crossed every line of decency.”
“But we’re family!”
“Family means respecting each other,” Anna said. “Not when some support you while you demand and insult.”
The rest of the evening passed in a tense atmosphere. The guests tried to keep the conversation on neutral topics, but the mood was completely ruined. They left earlier than usual, leaving the birthday girl to deal with family issues.
Katya left. Anna was clearing the table when the phone rang — Sasha’s and Katya’s mother was calling from her vacation in Turkey to congratulate her again and ask how the celebration went.
Sasha told his mother in detail what had happened. She listened silently and said briefly:
“You did absolutely the right thing. I raised that girl, her character is difficult. Strict measures are necessary. I fully support Anna.”
“And what about the dorm?” Sasha asked. “Maybe we should give her another chance?”
“No more chances,” his mother said firmly. “Katya must understand that words have consequences. Especially words like those.”
In the morning the sister-in-law appeared in the apartment with swollen, tearful eyes:
“Anna, can I talk to you?”
“You can.”
“I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. I was just nervous — exams are coming, I’m stressed…”
“At twenty-one, it’s time to take responsibility for your words,” Anna replied calmly.
“I understand. And I accept all your conditions. Just… may I stay one more month? Until I find a spot in the dorm and get the documents sorted?”
Anna silently sipped her coffee, considering the request:
“One month, and not a day more. But financial support ends today. And no more talk about Baikal.”
“Understood,” Katya said quietly.
A week later, Katya got a job as a waitress at a café near the university — she worked on weekends and on days when she had no classes. The pay was small, but at least it was her own money. She had to cancel Baikal — she couldn’t afford even a plane ticket to Irkutsk.
A month later, the sister-in-law got a dorm room and moved out of the studio. The apartment was quickly rented out to new tenants — a young couple from the provinces, neat and reliable. The fifty thousand rubles of monthly income returned to the family budget.
And Anna realized something important: sometimes a birthday is not only a celebration, but also a reason to put all the dots over the i’s. Especially when the words spoken in a moment of heat turn against the one who said them.
