“What do you mean, guests? We agreed there would be no more guests!” Yana reminded her husband.
Yana stood in the middle of the hallway with a wet rag in her hand. She had just finished doing a deep clean after the last “invasion” — that was what she privately called Anton’s relatives’ visits. Three weeks earlier, his cousin Maxim had stayed with them with his wife and two children. It had been a week of hell, during which their apartment had turned into a revolving door and Yana into unpaid household staff.
“What do you mean, GUESTS? We agreed there would be no more guests!” Yana’s voice trembled with barely restrained anger.
Anton froze in the doorway, holding a grocery bag. His face had the guilty look of a schoolboy caught doing something wrong.
“Yan, it’s only for a short time… Uncle Volodya and Aunt Galya are coming for just a couple of days. They’re renovating their apartment. They have nowhere else to go…”
“A COUPLE OF DAYS?!” Yana threw the rag into the bucket so sharply that water splashed onto the floor. “Maxim was supposed to stay for a couple of days too! How long did he stay? A week! And your sister Marina, with her ‘sudden’ divorce — her couple of days turned into a whole month!”
“Don’t shout, the neighbors will hear,” Anton said, putting the grocery bag on the floor and stepping closer to his wife. “You have to understand, Uncle Volodya helped me a lot once. I can’t say no to him.”
“But you can say no to me!” Yana stepped back. “You can easily deny me respect, personal space, and basic peace in my own home!”
Anton waved his hand in irritation.
“Don’t exaggerate. They’re family, not strangers. Besides, this apartment is mine too.”
Yes, technically, they had bought the apartment together. But most of the money had come from her — she had sold the country house she inherited from her grandmother and invested all her savings. Anton had only just been starting his career as a sales manager then and hadn’t had much money.
“Yours too…” Yana repeated, and dangerous notes appeared in her voice. “So that’s how you see it? Fine. Wonderful. When are they coming?”
“Tomorrow evening,” Anton said, clearly relieved that his wife seemed to have accepted it. “I thought you could make something nice. Aunt Galya loves your lasagna.”
“Of course,” Yana nodded. “I’ll definitely make something.”
She turned and walked into the bedroom, leaving Anton standing there with a foolish smile on his face. He did not even notice how tightly her fists were clenched or how white her lips had become from rage.
In the bedroom, Yana sat down on the bed and took out her phone. Her fingers trembled as she typed a message to her friend Marina: “That’s it. Enough. Tomorrow I start acting.”
The reply came instantly: “About time! Need help?”
“I’ll handle it myself. But thanks.”
Yana leaned back against the pillows. For three years, she had endured it. For three years, her home had been a hotel for anyone who felt like coming. Anton’s relatives arrived, stayed for weeks, ate her food, used her things, criticized her cooking and cleaning. And Anton? Anton only shrugged and said, “Be patient. They’re family.”
But the worst part wasn’t even that. The worst part was how they behaved. As if Yana were not the lady of the house, but hired help. Aunt Marina could easily walk into their bedroom without knocking to take “some little blouse.” Uncle Igor smoked on the balcony even though Yana had asked him not to. And Anton’s cousin Lena had once thrown a girls’ night at their place without asking permission.
“Yan, are you coming to dinner?” Anton’s voice came from the kitchen.
“NO!” she shouted back. “I’ve lost my appetite!”
She heard him muttering something under his breath and clattering dishes. He probably thought she was sulking and would calm down soon, as always.
But not this time.
The next day, Yana started by getting up earlier than usual. Anton was still asleep when she was already dressed and ready to leave.
“Where are you going so early?” he mumbled sleepily, opening one eye.
“Business,” Yana answered shortly, zipping her bag. “I’ll be back in the evening.”
“What about preparing for Uncle Volodya’s arrival? We need to buy food, cook…”
“You’ll buy it yourself and cook it yourself,” Yana said, applying lipstick as she looked into the mirror. “They’re YOUR relatives.”
Anton sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.
“Are you offended or something? Yan, don’t act like a child.”
She turned to him, and he involuntarily recoiled from her look.
“A child? I’m acting like a child?” Her voice was quiet. “No, darling. Children whine and cry. I’m simply resigning from the position of unpaid maid.”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic…”
“SHUT UP!” Yana shouted so loudly that Anton jumped. “Just shut up and listen! For three years, I stayed silent. For three years, I cooked, cleaned, washed, and entertained YOUR relatives. And what did I get in return? ‘Yanochka, why is the soup not salty enough?’ ‘Yana, could you be quieter? Uncle Vasya is sleeping.’ ‘Yanka, run and get us some beer.’ YANKA! They don’t even bother calling me properly by my name!”
“You’re exagger—”
“ONE MORE WORD, and I walk out right now! For good!” Yana grabbed her bag. “Your precious uncle and aunt are coming tonight. You meet them. You feed them. You entertain them. I’ll be home at ten. And if I find even one of your relatives here, your things will be on the stairwell. ALL of them.”
“You have no right! The apartment is mine too!”
Yana pulled a folder from her bag and threw it onto the bed.
“Here are copies of all the documents. My contribution was eighty percent. You can check it. And yes, I do have the right. The legal right to evict you through court. Want to test it?”
Anton stared at the documents in confusion. He had never seen his wife like this. Usually, she grumbled, got upset, maybe cried, but then still did whatever needed to be done.
“Yan… let’s talk calmly…”
But she had already left.
At work, Yana barely made it to lunch. Her colleagues glanced at her cautiously — usually friendly and smiling, today she looked darker than a storm cloud. At two in the afternoon, the first message from Anton arrived: “Yana, call me back. We need to talk.”
She ignored it.
At three: “I canceled Uncle Volodya’s visit. Let’s meet and discuss everything.”
“Too late,” she wrote back.
At four, Anton began calling repeatedly. Yana rejected the calls. On the tenth attempt, she turned on the voice recorder and answered.
“What?”
“Yana, where are you? I told you I canceled it…”
“And I told you it’s too late. You made your choice three years ago when you first moved your relatives into our home without my consent. And you kept making that choice every single time you ignored my requests.”
“Why are you so worked up? So what if relatives come over sometimes…”
“Sometimes? SOMETIMES?!” Yana stepped out of the office into the hallway so she wouldn’t disturb her colleagues. “In three years, we’ve had about twenty people stay with us! They lived there for weeks! Your cousin Alla stayed for three months with her nasty cat that peed all over the sofa!”
“Well, things happen…”
“Go to hell!” Yana snapped. “You know what? I recorded this conversation. And I’ll record every other one too. For court. When I divide the property.”
“You… you want a divorce?” Anton’s voice wavered.
“I want RESPECT! In my own home! Is that so hard to understand?!”
She hung up and switched off her phone completely.
That evening, Yana deliberately stayed out longer. First, she sat in a café, then walked through the park. She returned home at exactly ten, just as she had promised.
The key turned in the lock with an unfamiliar creak. Yana pushed the door open and froze on the threshold. Voices came from the living room. Several voices.
Blood rushed to her face. He had done it anyway. After everything she had said, after all her warnings and threats — he had still brought them there.
Yana slowly took off her shoes and hung up her bag. Her movements were calm, almost mechanical, but inside her a hurricane was raging. She walked into the living room.
Four people were sitting at the table. Anton, a heavyset man of about sixty with a red face — clearly Uncle Volodya — a thin woman with a displeased expression — Aunt Galya — and… Yana could hardly believe her eyes. Larisa, Anton’s mother, who lived in another city.
“Oh, Yana’s home!” Anton jumped up with forced cheerfulness. “We already had dinner. Mom came unexpectedly, can you imagine? She decided to visit Uncle Volodya at the same time.”
“Yana,” Larisa looked her daughter-in-law up and down. “You don’t look well. Staying late at work again? A woman should think about her family first.”
“Yes,” Aunt Galya added, “I always tell Volodya: a home is a woman’s face. And here…” She looked around the room. “It’s obvious the hostess doesn’t try very hard.”
Yana said nothing. She looked at Anton, and he began to grow nervous under her stare.
“Mom, maybe you should go to a hotel?” he muttered. “It’s not very comfortable here…”
“What nonsense!” Larisa exclaimed. “I came to my son, not strangers! Yana, bring tea. And something with it. I hope there are at least cookies in this house?”
That was the last straw. Yana felt something inside her snap, like a tightened string breaking. But instead of hysteria, instead of tears, a strange calm came over her. Cold, absolute calm.
“Of course,” she said evenly. “I’ll bring it now.”
She went to the kitchen, took out her phone, and dialed a number.
“Hello, Marina? Yes, it’s me. Can you come right now? And bring Kolya and Ruslan with you. Yes, those two. Thank you.”
Then she opened the cabinet, took out the most expensive tea set — a wedding gift from her grandmother — and began placing the cups on a tray.
“Yana, did you fall asleep in there?” Anton shouted from the living room.
“Coming!” she called back.
She carried in the tray and set out the cups. She poured the tea. Then she sat down in the armchair opposite them and folded her hands on her lap.
“What, not even a cake?” Aunt Galya snorted. “Back in our day…”
“Back in your day,” Yana interrupted in the same even tone, “women knew their place. Is that what you wanted to say?”
“Well… generally, yes,” Aunt Galya said, taken aback.
“Wonderful. Then allow me to explain YOUR place in MY home.”
“Yana!” Anton jumped up. “What do you think you’re—”
“SIT DOWN!” Yana shouted so sharply that he automatically dropped back into his seat. “And KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!”
She stood up, walked around the table, and positioned herself so she could see them all.
“Here’s how it is. Let’s start with you, dear mother-in-law. You arrived without an invitation, without warning, forced your way into MY home, and now you dare tell me what to do? Go straight to hell! You are nobody to me! Do you hear me? NOBODY! Just the mother of my useless husband, who can’t even stand up for his own wife!”
“How dare you speak…” Larisa began, but Yana cut her off.
“SILENCE! I’m not finished! For three years, all of you have been coming here as if this were a resort! Eating at my expense, sleeping in my bed while I end up on the couch, criticizing everything in sight! And you know what? ENOUGH!”
The doorbell rang. Yana went to open it.
“Don’t you dare open that! This is my home too!” Anton shouted.
“Yours?” Yana turned around. “Twenty percent yours. If you want, I’ll fence off a corner in the bathroom for you. Live there with your relatives!”
She opened the door. Marina was standing there with two strong men in work clothes.
“Come in,” Yana stepped aside. “Kolya, Ruslan, do you see these people? They are leaving now. Whether voluntarily or not is up to them. They have five minutes to gather their things.”
“Have you lost your mind?!” Anton jumped up, his face turning red with anger. “These are my relatives! You have no right!”
“I do,” Yana said, taking out her phone and putting it on speaker. “Hello, Andrey Petrovich? Yes, this is Yana Sergeyeva. You said that if I needed legal advice… Yes, right now. Here’s the question: can I remove uninvited guests from an apartment where I own eighty percent, even if they are relatives of the second owner? I see… So it would be considered abuse of the right of use? And I can file a complaint? Thank you very much!”
She ended the call and looked at the now pale Anton.
“Did you hear that? Your mommy and the others leave right now. Or I call the police and file a report for unlawful entry. Choose!”
“Anton!” Larisa shrieked. “Are you going to let this… this…”
“Bitch? Rude woman? Ungrateful trash?” Yana supplied. “Go on, don’t be shy! It’s still the last time you will ever cross the threshold of my home!”
Uncle Volodya, who had been silent until then, suddenly stood up.
“Anton, nephew, maybe we really should leave… We’ll go to a hotel…”
“There!” Yana pointed at him. “At least one reasonable person! Volodya, nothing personal, but I am TIRED! Tired of being a free hotel!”
“Who do you think you are?!” Aunt Galya exploded. “We came to see Anton, not you!”
“And Anton,” Yana turned to her husband, “is about to make a choice. Either all of you leave and we try to save this marriage, or you stay — and tomorrow I file for divorce and property division. What do you choose, DARLING?”
Anton’s eyes darted between his wife and his relatives. Larisa stared at him demandingly, waiting for her son to put his wife in her place. But in Yana’s eyes, he saw a determination he had never seen before.
“Mom…” he began in a strained voice. “Maybe it really would be better for you to go to a hotel…”
“WHAT?!” Larisa jumped up. “You’re choosing THIS WOMAN over your own mother?!”
“I’m choosing my marriage, Mom.”
“What marriage?!” Larisa screamed hysterically. “She doesn’t respect you! She doesn’t respect us! She’s not a wife, she’s some kind of fury!”
“EXACTLY!” Yana roared. “I’m a fury! I’m a bitch! I’m rude! And you know what? I DON’T CARE! For three years, I was the good little girl, and what did I get? Now — GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
Kolya and Ruslan crossed their arms at the same time, making it clear they were ready to act.
“Come on, Galya,” Uncle Volodya said, taking his wife by the hand. “We’re not welcome here.”
“As if you should be welcome!” Yana snorted. “After you broke my coffee machine last time and didn’t even apologize!”
“We didn’t know it was so fragile…” Aunt Galya muttered.
“I DON’T CARE! You were guests! GUESTS! And you behaved like owners!”
Larisa stood up, trembling with rage.
“Anton, I warned you! I told you not to marry her! Just a common country girl, an upstart!”
“A country girl?” Yana laughed. “Me? I’m the country girl? I earned my own apartment in the capital. And who are you? A pensioner living on fifteen thousand a month who comes to her son’s place to get fed? Go take a long walk!”
“Yana, enough!” Anton tried to intervene.
“NOT ENOUGH!” she turned to him. “You know what I just realized? You invite them all on purpose! On purpose! To show me my place! To humiliate me! Because you haven’t achieved anything yourself, and you can’t admit that your wife is more successful!”
“That’s not true…”
“It IS true! Think back! Every time I get promoted — we have guests! Every time I get a bonus — guests again! You thought I wouldn’t notice the pattern?”
Marina, who had been silent until then, suddenly spoke.
“Actually, yes. I noticed it too. Yan got a project bonus — and your sister immediately arrived with the kids. Yana got promoted — your brother came.”
“Coincidence…” Anton muttered, but without confidence.
“What coincidence?!” Yana stomped her foot. “That’s it! It’s decided! Pack up and get out! ALL OF YOU! Including you, Anton!”
“What? But you said…”
“I changed my mind! I can’t stand the sight of you! Go to your mommy! Live together, since you’re so inseparable!”
Larisa tried to say something else, but Kolya took a step forward, and she stopped.
“You have four minutes,” he said in a deep voice.
The next few minutes turned into chaos. Larisa rushed around the apartment, gathering things and complaining about ingratitude and disrespect. Aunt Galya whispered something to Uncle Volodya, who nodded grimly. Anton stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing what to do.
“Anton, are you coming or not?!” his mother shouted from the hallway.
He looked at Yana. She stood with her arms crossed.
“Yan… let’s talk… without outsiders…”
“Outsiders?” She nodded toward Marina and the two men. “These are my friends. Unlike your relatives, they come by invitation and respect me!”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“What did you mean, then? That you’ll talk me into it again? Promise that everything will change? Like you promised three weeks ago?”
“Anton!” Larisa appeared in the doorway with a suitcase. “We’re leaving! Are you coming with us, or staying with this shrew?”
“Mom, go to the car,” he muttered. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Wonderful!” Yana threw up her hands. “Go on, all of you! And don’t let me ever see you here again!”
Uncle Volodya and Aunt Galya slipped out the door without even saying goodbye. Larisa lingered on the threshold.
“You’ll regret this, girl. You destroyed a family!”
“I did?!” Yana burst into laughter. “I destroyed it? You never even allowed it to exist! What kind of family can there be when strangers are here every week?”
“We’re not strangers! We’re relatives!”
“To me, you are strangers! And you always were! Leave!”
Larisa slammed the door.
Anton was still standing in the living room.
“Are you serious?” he asked quietly. “Do you really want a divorce?”
“Do you seriously not understand why?” Yana sat down in the armchair, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Anton, I asked for three years. I begged. I explained. And every single time, you chose them. Every damn time!”
“They’re family…”
“Enough already with the family excuse!” she flared up again. “Then who am I to you? A neighbor? A housekeeper? A cook?”
“My wife…”
“A wife you don’t respect! A wife whose opinion you ignore! A wife you keep throwing under the bus again and again!”
Marina cleared her throat.
“Guys, we should probably go. Yan, call me if anything happens.”
“Thank you, Marin. Kolya, Ruslan — you really helped me.”
When the door closed behind her friends, silence settled over the apartment. Anton sat down on the sofa.
Yana got up, walked over to him, and held out the car keys.
May you like
“Take your things and leave. We’ll discuss everything else through lawyers.”
A month later, the court confirmed her rights — eighty percent of the apartment belonged to her. She offered to buy out his share, and Anton, turning pale from just one look at her, silently agreed to all the terms without trying to bargain or ask for reconciliation. Left alone in her apartment, from which the traces of other people’s presence had finally disappeared, Yana felt truly at home at last — in silence, peace, and complete freedom to control her own life. And that feeling turned out to be far more valuable than any marriage.
