“Have you no shame? 🤨 I bought that food for the children’s party!” the wife gasped after discovering the refrigerator empty following a visit from her husband’s relatives.
Anna glanced out the window and saw a familiar blue car slowly turning into the yard. Her heart sank, and a familiar feeling of annoyance washed over her.
“Sergey!” she called to her husband, who was peacefully reading the newspaper in the living room. “Your brother is here!”
Sergey looked up, and the same expression appeared on his face as on his wife’s. It was the same thing every weekend. Like clockwork.
“Maybe we should pretend we’re not home?” Anna whispered, hiding behind the curtain.
“Too late,” Sergey sighed. “The car is in the yard, and the lights are on.”
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang—long and insistently. Anna reluctantly went to open the door.
“Anya!” Vladimir, Sergey’s younger brother, exclaimed cheerfully. “How are you? We decided to stop by for a visit!”
Behind him stood his wife, Sveta, with their two children—seven-year-old Maxim and five-year-old Dasha.
“Hi,” Anna said with a strained smile. “Come in.”
The children immediately rushed into the house, shouting with joy when they saw their cousins—ten-year-old Artyom and eight-year-old Liza.
“Children need to spend time together!” Sveta announced as she took off her coat. “They see each other so rarely!”
Rarely? Anna could barely suppress a laugh. Was every weekend considered rare?
“So, shall we set the table?” Vladimir asked, rubbing his hands together. “I’m starving after the drive!”
“Of course,” Anna nodded, mentally calculating what food she had in the house.
While the adults drank tea in the kitchen, the children ran around the house. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna watched the food rapidly disappear from the table. Vladimir devoured her signature salad, which she had prepared for herself and Sergey for the next day. Sveta eagerly ate the homemade cookies Anna had baked for her children’s school lunches.
“Everything is always so delicious at your house!” Sveta exclaimed. “I can’t cook. I wish I had your recipes!”
Anna nodded and smiled, but inside she was boiling with anger. She would gladly share her recipes, but why did they have to come over every weekend and empty her cupboards?
“Aunt Anya, what’s this in your refrigerator?” Little Dasha opened the door and carefully examined its contents. “What a beautiful cake!”
“Don’t touch it!” Anna said sharply. “It’s for tomorrow.”
“Mom, can we have some cookies?” Maxim asked.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Sveta replied. “Aunt Anya isn’t stingy.”
Anna clenched her teeth. Of course she wasn’t stingy. But why was she expected to feed someone else’s children every weekend?
“Listen, Sergey,” Vladimir said to his brother, “why don’t we come over again tomorrow? It’s Sunday—a family day!”
“Tomorrow won’t work,” Sergey quickly replied. “We have plans.”
“What plans?” Sveta asked in surprise. “You’re homebodies!”
The rest of the story is just below in the first comment.
Anna looked out the window and saw a familiar blue car slowly turning into the courtyard. Her heart skipped a beat, and the familiar feeling of irritation spread through her chest.
“Sergey!” she called to her husband, who was peacefully reading the newspaper in the living room. “Your brother is here!”
Sergey raised his head, and the same expression appeared on his face as on his wife’s. It was the same thing every weekend, like clockwork.
“Maybe we should pretend we’re not home?” Anna whispered, hiding behind the curtain.
“Too late,” Sergey sighed. “The car is in the courtyard, and the lights are on.”
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang—long and insistently. Anna reluctantly went to open the door.
“Anya!” Vladimir, Sergey’s younger brother, exclaimed cheerfully. “How are you? We decided to drop by!”
Behind him stood his wife, Sveta, with their two children—seven-year-old Maxim and five-year-old Dasha.
“Hello,” Anna said with a forced smile. “Come in.”
The children immediately rushed into the house, shouting with delight when they saw their cousins, ten-year-old Artyom and eight-year-old Liza.
“Children need to spend time together!” Sveta announced as she took off her coat. “They see each other so rarely!”
Rarely? Anna could barely suppress a laugh. Was every weekend considered rare?
“Well, shall we set the table?” Vladimir asked, rubbing his hands together. “I’m starving after the drive!”
“Of course,” Anna replied, mentally calculating what food she had in the house.
While the adults drank tea in the kitchen, the children ran around the house. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna watched her food rapidly disappear from the table. Vladimir devoured her signature salad, which she had prepared for herself and Sergey to eat the next day. Sveta eagerly ate the homemade cookies Anna had baked for her children’s school lunches.
“Everything is always so delicious at your house!” Sveta exclaimed admiringly. “I can’t cook at all. You must give me your recipes!”
Anna nodded and smiled, but inside she was seething. She would gladly give Sveta the recipes, but then why did they need to come every weekend and empty her pantry?
“Aunt Anya, what’s that in your refrigerator?” Dasha asked, opening the door and carefully examining its contents. “There’s a beautiful cake!”
“Don’t touch it!” Anna said sharply. “It’s for tomorrow.”
“Mom, can we have some cookies?” Maxim asked.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Sveta replied. “Aunt Anya isn’t stingy.”
Anna clenched her teeth. Of course she wasn’t stingy. But why was she expected to feed someone else’s children every weekend?
“Listen, Sergey,” Vladimir said to his brother. “Why don’t we come over tomorrow too? It’s Sunday—a family day!”
“Tomorrow won’t work,” Sergey quickly replied. “We have plans.”
“What plans?” Sveta asked in surprise. “You’re homebodies!”
“We have things to do around the house,” Anna answered vaguely.
In reality, Artyom and Liza were having a party the next day. Anna had invited six of their school friends. She had been preparing for a week: buying treats, ordering a cake, and decorating the house. The children had been looking forward to it so much.
“All right,” Vladimir said with a shrug. “Then we’ll definitely come next weekend.”
“Definitely,” Anna replied, groaning inwardly.
The guests left late, at around ten in the evening. Anna immediately began cleaning up—the dishes, the crumbs, the children’s fingerprints on the furniture. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
“Sergey,” she said to her husband when they went to bed, “this can’t go on.”
“I know,” he sighed. “But what can we do? They’re family.”
“Being family doesn’t give them the right to take advantage of us every weekend!”
“I’ll talk to my brother,” Sergey promised.
But Anna knew he wouldn’t dare. He was too kind and too soft-hearted.
Anna woke early on Sunday morning and began preparing for the party. She hung balloons, arranged the treats, and checked that everything was ready. The children were due to arrive at two o’clock.
At half past twelve, the doorbell rang.
“Who could that be?” Anna wondered.
Sergey went to open the door. A minute later, familiar voices burst into the house.
“Sergey! Anya! We’re back!”
Anna felt her heart sink. Vladimir and Sveta were standing in the hallway with their children, smiling cheerfully.
“We decided we didn’t spend enough time together yesterday,” Vladimir explained. “And the children asked us to come!”
“But today we’re…” Anna began.
“Oh, how beautiful!” Sveta exclaimed, looking at the decorations. “Are you having a party?”
“Not really,” Sergey replied awkwardly. “The children simply asked us to decorate the house.”
Anna gave her husband a murderous look. Why hadn’t he told them the truth?
“Well, shall we set the table?” Vladimir asked, rubbing his hands together. “I see you’ve already prepared everything!”
“That food is for our guests,” Anna tried to explain.
“Oh, come on! What are we, then?” Sveta laughed. “We’re family!”
The children had already scattered throughout the house. Anna watched Maxim and Dasha curiously examining the party table.
“Mom, can I have a piece of candy?” Dasha asked.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Sveta replied.
“No!” Anna said sharply. “That’s for the guests!”
“Anya, what’s wrong with you?” Sveta asked in surprise. “You’re acting strange today.”
Anna went into the kitchen and tried to calm herself. She needed to think of a polite way to get them to leave before the children arrived. But time passed, and Vladimir and Sveta made themselves increasingly comfortable.
“Sergey,” Anna whispered to her husband, “tell them we’re having a party!”
“It would be awkward,” he replied sheepishly. “They’re already here.”
“And this isn’t awkward for me?” Anna hissed.
At that moment, a child shouted from the living room:
“Mom! Uncle Volodya is eating the cake!”
Anna rushed into the living room. Vladimir was standing beside the party table with a slice of cake in his hand. Sveta was next to him, helping herself to the canapés.
“What are you doing?!” Anna exclaimed.
“We’re having something to eat,” Vladimir replied in surprise. “What’s the problem?”
“That’s for the party!” Anna shouted. “Some children are coming over today!”
“What children?” Sveta frowned.
“Artyom and Liza’s school friends! I’ve been preparing for a week! And you…” Anna’s voice trembled with indignation.
“You should have told us immediately,” Sveta said, sounding offended. “Then we wouldn’t have…”
“Do you have no shame?” Anna gasped. “I bought this food for the children’s party!”
“Anya, don’t shout,” Vladimir asked. “We didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know?” Anna laughed hysterically. “Couldn’t you have asked? You come here every weekend and eat everything in sight, and now you’ve even ruined the children’s party!”
“Are we not welcome here?” Vladimir asked indignantly. “We’re family!”
“Being family doesn’t mean you can behave so shamelessly!” Anna shouted. “I’m tired! I’m tired of feeding you, cleaning up after you, and buying food that you eat!”
“If we’re so terrible,” Sveta said with a sulky expression, “then just say so!”
“Fine, I’ll say it!” Anna was beside herself now. “You’re selfish! You think only about yourselves! You come here every weekend like a swarm of locusts! You empty my refrigerator, make a mess of my house, and then leave perfectly satisfied!”
“Anna!” Sergey said sternly.
“What do you mean, ‘Anna’?” she said, turning toward her husband. “Can’t you see what’s happening? We can’t spend a single peaceful weekend together! I can’t keep up with the cooking or grocery shopping! And whenever I tell you I’m tired, you say, ‘But they’re family!’”
“I understand,” Vladimir said coldly. “We’ve got the message. Get ready,” he told his wife and children.
“Volodya, don’t,” Sergey tried to intervene.
“We should,” his brother snapped. “Since we’re not welcome here.”
“You’re not unwelcome,” Anna said wearily. “You simply need to know when enough is enough.”
“Know when enough is enough?” Sveta asked indignantly. “We’re the ones who need to know that?”
“Yes!” Anna shouted. “Every weekend is too much! It’s shameless!”
“Mom, why is Aunt Anya shouting?” Dasha asked.
“Because Aunt Anya doesn’t want to see us,” Sveta replied as she pulled her daughter’s coat on.
“That isn’t true!” Anna protested. “I do want to see you—but not every weekend and not when it’s inconvenient for me!”
“All right, that’s enough,” Vladimir said. “Sergey, I’m sorry. We won’t come here again.”
“Volodya, don’t be like that,” Sergey pleaded.
“I have to,” his brother replied firmly. “Since that’s what you think of us.”
The family gathered their things and left. The children were crying because they didn’t understand what was happening. Vladimir and Sveta pointedly left without saying goodbye.
Anna remained standing in the living room amid the ruined party preparations. Half the cake was gone, the canapés had been picked apart, and the salads had been emptied.
“What am I going to tell the children?” she whispered.
“We’ll think of something,” Sergey said, putting his arms around her. “We’ll run to the store and buy something.”
“You can’t buy another cake like that,” Anna sobbed. “I ordered it specially in advance.”
“We’ll buy a different one.”
“It won’t be the same! I worked so hard!” Anna burst into tears.
Sergey said nothing as he stroked her hair. He understood that his wife was right, but it was already too late to say anything.
The doorbell rang at exactly two o’clock. Anna pulled herself together as best she could and bought pastries and juice from the store near their house.
“I’m sorry,” she told the children’s parents. “We’ve had a small problem with the refreshments.”
“Don’t worry about it,” one boy’s mother said with a smile. “The children are happy anyway.”
The party still took place. The children played, laughed, and had fun. Anna watched them and thought about how it could have been if their relatives hadn’t visited that morning.
That evening, after all the guests had left, Anna sat in the kitchen drinking tea. Sergey approached her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have stopped them.”
“It’s too late,” Anna replied wearily. “It has already happened.”
“Volodya is offended. He says he won’t come here again.”
“Good,” Anna said firmly. “Let him stay away.”
“But they’re family…”
“Sergey,” his wife interrupted, “being family doesn’t give people the right to act shamelessly. I’m tired of our house being a free restaurant for your brother, with me serving as the unpaid staff.”
“Maybe we should apologize?”
“For what?” Anna asked in surprise. “For defending my home? For not wanting them to ruin the children’s party?”
Sergey sighed. He understood that his wife was right, but he still regretted the damage to his relationship with his brother.
“They’ll understand,” Anna said, as though reading his thoughts. “If they don’t, then perhaps they really are bad people.”
A week passed. Vladimir didn’t call. Then another week passed, followed by another.
“Maybe I should call him?” Sergey asked.
“Call him,” Anna replied. “But make it clear from the beginning that they can’t come every weekend.”
Sergey dialed his brother’s number. Their conversation was brief.
“What did he say?” Anna asked.
“He said he’d think about it,” Sergey replied. “But he isn’t ready yet.”
“So he’s still offended,” Anna said with a nod. “That’s all right. Time will tell.”
A month passed. Weekends became different. Anna could calmly plan the family’s meals for the week without worrying that the food would suddenly disappear. The children could invite friends over without fearing that their cousins would arrive unexpectedly.
“You know,” Anna said to her husband one evening, “I don’t feel guilty.”
“And you shouldn’t,” Sergey agreed. “You were right.”
“Do you think they’ll understand?”
“Sooner or later, they will,” he replied confidently. “And if they don’t, that’s their problem.”
Anna nodded. She reflected that family wasn’t only about blood ties. It also meant mutual respect, an understanding of boundaries, and a willingness to compromise. What they had experienced before wasn’t family—it was parasitism.
Vladimir never called. Sergey occasionally saw him at work—they worked for the same company but in different departments. His brother greeted him but refused to have a conversation.
“He’s still offended,” Sergey told Anna. “He says we humiliated them.”
“He humiliated himself,” Anna replied calmly. “We were simply protecting our home from their raids.”
A year passed. Anna no longer flinched whenever the doorbell rang on the weekend. She knew it could only be an invited guest or a neighbor. The children began inviting friends over more often, no longer worried that there wouldn’t be enough food.
“Mom,” Liza said one day, “why doesn’t Uncle Volodya come over anymore?”
“Because we had an argument,” Anna answered honestly.
“What was it about?”
“He didn’t know how to behave as a guest.”
“What did he do wrong?”
“He came without being invited and ate everything without asking permission.”
“I see,” Liza said with a nod. “They teach us at school that you have to behave politely when you’re a guest.”
“Exactly,” Anna said with a smile.
“I don’t miss them,” Artyom admitted. “Maxim always broke my toys, and Uncle Volodya never told him off.”
Anna looked at her children and realized they had also grown tired of the relatives’ constant visits. They simply hadn’t dared to say anything.
“Mom,” Liza asked cautiously, “if Uncle Volodya apologizes, will we forgive him?”
“Of course,” Anna replied. “But he has to understand that he was wrong.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then that’s his problem,” Anna said with a shrug.
Vladimir never called. Anna sometimes wondered what their relationship would have been like if she had remained silent that Sunday. Most likely, nothing would have changed. Vladimir and Sveta would have continued coming every weekend, emptying the refrigerator and considering it perfectly normal.
Anna looked at the calendar. Tomorrow was Saturday. In the past, she would already have been anxious, preparing herself for an unexpected visit from the relatives. Now she could calmly plan the weekend for her own family—a real family whose members knew how to respect one another.
And that was exactly how it should be.
