“Do you even hear yourself?” Maxim shouted indignantly, looming over me in the narrow hallway. “My mother can barely move her legs, and you begrudge her our bed! Her joints are falling apart. An orthopedic mattress is absolutely vital for her. And you want her to squeeze onto that old sofa in the second room! Do you have any conscience at all?”
I looked at my husband’s flushed face and felt a dull irritation rising inside me. For the third week in a row, my life had resembled some awful second-rate play. It had started the very day Zinaida Arkadyevna suddenly announced she had a serious illness and moved into my cozy two-room apartment with her countless bags.
“Maxim, this is my property,” I replied calmly but very firmly, not looking away. “I bought this apartment myself five years before I even met you. And I have every right to rest properly in my own bed after a twelve-hour shift. I’m already paying for every endless whim your mother comes up with.”
I listed the dry facts for him. Expensive imported vitamins, special supplements, farm-fresh groceries — all of it came entirely out of my pocket. My savings were melting before my eyes while my husband told fairy tales about temporary difficulties at work and reduced bonuses. He had not given a single kopeck toward his mother’s treatment, but he had mastered the art of giving me orders.
“You’re just mercenary and empty!” Maxim sneered contemptuously, crossing his arms over his chest. “To you, colored pieces of paper matter more than the health of your loved ones. I’m not abandoning my own mother to fate. Tomorrow we’re moving our things into the small room, and Mom is moving into the bedroom. The matter is closed, and nobody here is interested in your opinion!”
From behind the half-open door, my mother-in-law’s weak, deliberately pitiful voice immediately rang out. She always knew how to make herself heard at the most heated moments of our family quarrels.
“Maxik, sweetheart, don’t argue with your wife because of me, an old woman no one needs. I can lie down on a rug if I have to. The main thing is not to get in the way of you young people building your happiness… Oh, my lower back just seized up! Katya, bring me that foreign ointment from my brown bag! The one you picked up from the pharmacy yesterday!”
I clenched my teeth and silently headed for the exit. Zinaida Arkadyevna’s bag was standing on the ottoman near the large mirror. I unzipped the stiff zipper and began searching for the right tube among dozens of colorful packages. Suddenly, my hand touched a thick piece of paper, carelessly folded several times.
Normally, I never touched other people’s things, but the printed title of the document instantly caught my attention. I pulled the papers out into the light of the hallway lamp. My eyes quickly ran over the lines, and all the exhaustion that had built up over the past weeks instantly disappeared, replaced by absolute clarity.
A residential lease agreement.
Zinaida Arkadyevna’s apartment had been rented out exactly three weeks earlier to a young couple for a very impressive monthly sum. The signatures were fresh, written in blue ink.
My brain began rapidly analyzing the information. So she had not moved in with us simply because of sudden weakness. Alongside the agreement, in the side pocket, there was a bank receipt. Payment for a trip to an expensive Black Sea resort. In the name of Oksana — Maxim’s own sister. The dates matched perfectly.
The puzzle finally came together.
My mother-in-law had secretly let tenants into her apartment, sent her unemployed thirty-year-old daughter off to relax by the sea, and then pretended to be gravely ill. She had come to live with us with everything provided at my expense, demanding round-the-clock care while her tenants paid for Oksana’s entertainment.
Instead of tears or screams, a cold, calculating determination awakened inside me. I took out my phone and quickly copied the tenants’ number from the agreement. Then I carefully folded the papers and put them back exactly where they had been.
“Katya! Are you making that ointment yourself in there?” Maxim barked from the room. “Mother is in pain. Have at least a drop of conscience!”
I took out the unfortunate tube, tossed it onto the nightstand, and walked into the room completely empty-handed. I looked at my husband with a long, unblinking stare.
“There’s no ointment there,” I said evenly. “It must have gotten lost during the move. I’ll buy a new one tomorrow. And now I’m going to sleep. In my rightful bedroom. And if I hear that commanding tone directed at me one more time, the two of you will be packing your bags.”
Maxim could only gasp for air in outrage, but I turned around and firmly closed the door behind me. For the first time in a long while, I slept surprisingly deeply and peacefully.
In the morning, as soon as my husband left for work, I poured myself a glass of water and dialed the number from the document I had copied. A cheerful female voice answered.
“Hello,” I began in a businesslike tone. “I’m calling from the management company for your district. We’ve received a complaint about a serious leak along your plumbing riser. Are you currently in Zinaida Arkadyevna’s apartment?”
The girl on the other end confirmed that she was home, but said they had no water anywhere and the floors were completely dry.
“It’s a hidden leak, between the lower floors,” I continued confidently. “I’ll send a team of specialists, but the property owner must be personally present for the inspection and must sign the report. Come urgently to this address. She is here now. Otherwise, we’ll have to shut off the water supply to the entire building for an indefinite period.”
The girl became noticeably nervous and promised to arrive in forty minutes with her husband. I placed the smartphone on the table. The most important part of this prolonged farce was beginning.
At that moment, my mother-in-law was sitting in the kitchen, insistently tapping her spoon against a porcelain plate. When she saw me, she immediately hunched over and put on the most miserable face possible.
“Katya, why was the porridge cooked with ordinary water? I asked you to buy plant-based milk for me! Plain water makes me feel heavy. And where are my fresh berries? Without the proper vitamins, I’ll lose all my strength.”
“Your berries are gone, Zinaida Arkadyevna,” I answered coldly, sitting down across from her. “You’ll have to get used to normal food. My entire salary went toward paying bills while your son is busy finding himself.”
My mother-in-law pursed her lips arrogantly and drew in a breath for another moral lecture, but at that moment, a loud, persistent ring sounded from the hallway. The elderly woman craned her neck suspiciously. I walked slowly to open the door.
On the threshold stood a young man and the same girl I had spoken to that morning. They looked worried and slightly annoyed.
“We’re here about the leak, to see the owner, Zinaida Arkadyevna,” the girl said firmly. “Where are your specialists? We actually have to go to work soon.”
I silently stepped aside and gestured for them to go straight into the kitchen. When my mother-in-law saw her secret tenants, she dropped her spoon. The metal clattered loudly onto the tiled floor. Her face instantly broke out in uneven red blotches, and her eyes began darting feverishly from side to side.
“Zinaida Arkadyevna, you told us you had gone far out of town to treat your joints for the whole summer!” the young man said in genuine surprise. “And now someone from the company calls us and claims we’re flooding the neighbors downstairs. What is going on?”
“Flooding who? I don’t know anything!” my mother-in-law mumbled, nervously adjusting the edge of her expensive robe.
She instantly forgot about her aching lower back and ruined joints. She jumped sharply from her chair, displaying incredible agility for such a helpless person, and began waving her hands at the confused guests.
“You’re not flooding anyone, guys,” I said loudly and clearly, stepping between them. “There is no leak at all. I simply wanted to look into the eyes of the people whose money is paying for my sister-in-law’s luxury vacation while her enterprising mother sits on my neck.”
My mother-in-law tried to push the tenants out into the hallway, roughly grabbing at their clothes.
“Leave right now! This woman is insane! She’s lying to you! Don’t listen to her nonsense, go home!”
But the tenants were not the timid kind. The girl planted her hands on her hips and looked sternly at the elderly schemer.
“Woman, we transferred money to you for three months in advance!” she said indignantly, pulling out her phone. “We have an official document in our hands! You personally handed us the keys and smiled while doing it. What kind of show are you putting on here with these inspections?”
I did not interfere in their argument. I simply tapped my phone screen and called my husband. I put the call on speaker so everyone present could hear every word perfectly. Maxim answered in an irritated tone.
“What do you want now? I’m busy. Don’t call me over nonsense!”
“Maxim, some tenants have come to visit your weak mother. The very same ones she rented her apartment to almost a month ago. For very decent money.”
“What tenants?” my husband’s voice noticeably wavered; all his morning aggression evaporated. “Katya, what nonsense are you talking about while I’m at work?”
“The ones whose money went toward paying for a resort trip for your beloved little sister Oksana. Your mother is perfectly healthy. Her coordination is excellent. She runs around the kitchen faster than a young doe. She simply found a very convenient feeding trough in me so she could sponsor her lazy daughter.”
A heavy, viscous silence hung on the line. My mother-in-law began theatrically gasping for air, pressing her palms to her chest and trying to portray yet another illness, but I did not move from where I stood. I watched that cheap performance with absolute calm.
“Here’s how this is going to go,” I said, looking straight into Zinaida Arkadyevna’s shifting eyes. “You are going to pack your countless bags and go wherever you like. To the tenants’ rug, to your daughter on the southern coast — I don’t care. You have exactly twenty minutes to pack.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!” my mother-in-law screamed, finally dropping the role of a frail old woman. “I’m old enough to be your mother! You shameless little brat! My son will never forgive you for this! You’ll end up alone and come crawling back to beg for forgiveness!”
“Your son will be packing his things right after you,” I cut her off harshly, pronouncing every word clearly. “You can all live at Oksana’s as one big, very close family. This arrogant circus in my apartment is over once and for all.”
I ended the call and showed the tenants to the door, politely apologizing for wasting their time. They hurried out, still processing the scandal they had just witnessed and whispering loudly on the stairwell.
And Zinaida Arkadyevna began stuffing her sweaters, jars, and pills into enormous bags with astonishing speed. Not the slightest trace of her illnesses remained. She rushed around the room, hurling insults and curses, calling me useless and selfish, while I simply stood in the doorway and watched carefully to make sure she did not take anything that did not belong to her.
By evening, my apartment was completely empty.
Maxim blew up my phone, tried to justify himself, shouted into the receiver, accused me of cruelty and a lack of basic respect for elders. He demanded that I let him come back, insisting he had known nothing about his mother’s plans. I did not listen to those pitiful attempts to wriggle out of responsibility. I simply added his number to the blacklist. Then I sent all his remaining belongings by courier straight to his workplace.
I thoroughly washed the floors in every room, opened the windows wide to let fresh spring air into the home, and ordered a delivery of my favorite sushi rolls. I sat on my comfortable sofa and simply enjoyed the peace.
No one was demanding imported ointments anymore. No one was complaining about invented illnesses. No one was trying to drive me out of my own bedroom.
Ahead of me was a normal, peaceful life where I set the rules in my own home and never again allowed anyone to use me for someone else’s benefit.
