“Sveta, don’t be so gloomy. Pass me another fish sandwich,” Pavel said with a broad grin, licking grease from his fingers. “You know I love good food.”
He was sitting in her favorite chair, sprawled out like some exiled king. His feet, in stale-looking socks, were pressed against the leg of the kitchen table, leaving faint marks on the pale wood.
Svetlana silently pushed the plate toward him. Something tight and trembling sat inside her chest, but she hid it behind what was supposed to be a hospitable smile. The smile came out strained, almost painful.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Pavel said, winking at his brother. “And you, Antokha, why are you sitting there looking so sour? Cheer up! The family’s reunited. We’re not strangers, are we? Blood is thicker than water.”
“I’m not sour, Pasha. I’m just tired after my shift,” Anton replied quietly, avoiding his wife’s eyes. “Eat, enjoy.”
Pavel’s wife, Nadezhda, was lazily poking at the salad Svetlana had spent nearly an hour preparing. She did not even say thank you. She only twisted her lips, as if judging the quality of the mayonnaise.
“Listen, Sveta, is it always this stuffy in here?” Nadezhda suddenly asked, tossing back her dyed hair. “Maybe you should install an air conditioner. Pavlik and I are used to cooler air. It’ll be hard for us to sleep.”
“We air the rooms before bed, Nadya,” Svetlana answered gently, with almost endless patience, while clenching her hands beneath the table. “An air conditioner isn’t in our plans right now.”
“That’s a mistake,” her sister-in-law declared with complete confidence. “Comfort is the main thing. In our new apartment, we ordered a split system right away. Japanese. Cost a fortune, of course, but you can’t save money on yourself.”
Svetlana took a deep breath, trying to swallow her irritation.
Just a little longer, she told herself. Only a month. They need help. They’re family. Anton loves his brother. I have to endure it for my husband’s sake.
A month passed. Then another. The hope that they would leave soon melted away like April snow, exposing dirt and trash underneath.
One evening, Svetlana came home after dark, dreaming only of a hot shower and the leftover stew from yesterday. She opened the refrigerator and froze.
Empty.
The glass shelves shone with almost virgin cleanliness, except for one lonely, dried-up lemon.
“Anton!” Her voice trembled, but she quickly forced herself under control.
Her husband appeared in the kitchen doorway, his eyes lowered with guilt. Behind him, in the living room, the television was blaring, and Pavel’s loud laughter rang out.
“Where is the food, Anton? I cooked enough yesterday for three days.”
“Well… the guys got hungry,” he mumbled, fiddling with the edge of his T-shirt. “Pashka said they worked up an appetite after their walk. Sveta, don’t be greedy. Is it really such a big deal? We’ll buy more.”
“Who will buy more? Us?” The gentleness she had worked so hard to cultivate began to crack. “Anton, we work to pay for food. Your brother and his wife have been living here for three months. They haven’t bought so much as a loaf of bread. Not even a roll of toilet paper!”
“They’re going through a difficult time. The renovation is dragging on, all their money is going into it,” Anton repeated, as if reciting lines Pavel had fed him. “Be patient, Svetik. I can’t throw them out. He’s my younger brother.”
At that moment, Nadezhda drifted into the kitchen.
She was wearing Svetlana’s robe — the very one her mother had given her for her anniversary.
“Oh, Sveta’s home,” she yawned. “And we thought you’d bring something tasty. The fridge is completely empty. Pasha and I were actually disappointed.”
Svetlana looked at her robe, then at her sister-in-law’s smug, well-fed face. Disappointment gave way to a cold, heavy anger.
“Take off my robe,” she said quietly.
“What?” Nadya widened her eyes. “Come on, don’t be like that. Mine is in the wash. You were at work anyway.”
“Take. Off. My. Robe. Now.”
“What a psycho,” Nadezhda snorted, but she began untying the belt. “Antosha, tell your wife not to throw a tantrum. We’re guests.”
The next evening, Svetlana stopped in the hallway when she heard Pavel’s voice. The living room door was slightly open. Her brother-in-law was talking on the phone, and his tone was not pitiful at all. It was boastful and pleased with itself.
“I’m telling you, Vityok, the scheme is brilliant!” Pavel laughed. “We rented out our apartment two months ago. The tenants pay on time. I set the rent sky-high, but they agreed. And meanwhile, we’re crashing at my brother’s place. One hundred percent savings! Free food, free housing.”
Svetlana went still.
“My brother’s a sucker,” Pavel continued, chewing on something. “He’s afraid to say a word against me. A spineless little mouse. And we’ve trained his wife too. She grumbles a bit, then shuts up. She has nowhere to go. She’s all ‘civilized’ and polite. Anyway, we’ll stay another six months, save up for a car, and then we’ll see.”
Svetlana slowly lowered her bag to the floor.
Her fear of scandal vanished. Only disgust remained.
She walked into the room.
Pavel was lying on the sofa with his feet thrown over the backrest, shoes and all. When he saw Svetlana, he did not even change position. He only lazily covered the phone with his hand.
“Oh, the lady of the house. Got anything to eat? We’re hungry.”
Anton entered the room. He looked exhausted and, once again, tried to slip past the conflict.
“Pavel, get up,” Svetlana said.
Her voice was unexpectedly loud. Not shrill — deep and rolling, like thunder.
“What?” Pavel smirked, though he did lower his feet from the sofa. “Why are you giving orders?”
“I heard your conversation,” she said sharply, stepping closer. “You rented out your new apartment. You’ve been living here to save money. And you called my husband a sucker.”
Silence dropped over the room.
Anton turned pale and looked at his brother.
“Pash… is that true?”
Pavel realized denying it was pointless. He smirked shamelessly and sat up.
“So what?” He spread his hands. “Yes, I rented it out. What, do you feel sorry for me, brother? We’re family! So I saved a little money. Did it hurt you? You’ve got everything anyway. Don’t be cheap, Antokha.”
“Out,” Svetlana said.
“What?” Nadezhda asked as she came in, chewing an apple.
“Out of here. Both of you. Right now.”
“You have no right!” Nadezhda shrieked. “Anton, tell her! It’s the middle of the night!”
Anton said nothing.
He looked at his brother, pain and confusion swimming in his eyes. He still could not make a decision.
“If he won’t say it, I will,” Svetlana said, taking a step toward Pavel. “You have five minutes.”
“Go to hell,” Pavel said with contempt, waving her off and leaning back against the cushions again. “We’re not going anywhere. Anton, calm your woman down before I stop being responsible for myself.”
Svetlana was no longer soft. She was no longer patient.
She walked up to the sofa, grabbed Pavel by the ear, and yanked him forward with a strength she had not known she possessed.
“You didn’t understand me!” she shouted in his face. “Get up!”
Pavel, stunned by the sudden force, tried to push her away.
“Are you crazy? Get your hands off me!”
He raised his arm, but Svetlana did not flinch. She caught his hand and shoved him hard in the face. He staggered backward and crashed into the coffee table. A vase of flowers fell to the floor with a crash, water spreading across the laminate.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” Pavel roared, his face flushing red. He clenched his fists and moved toward her. “I’ll teach you some respect!”
“Just try it!” Svetlana grabbed a heavy ceramic figurine from the table. Her eyes burned with fury. “I’ll smash your skull, you parasite! Did you think I would keep putting up with this? I’ll bite your ear off with my teeth! Get out of my house!”
She raised the figurine, and Pavel, seeing that she was truly ready to strike, recoiled in fear. He had never seen his sister-in-law like this before.
“Nadya, pack your things!” Svetlana barked, turning toward her.
Nadezhda stood with her mouth open.
“I’m not going anywhere!” she screamed. “Anton! Are you a man or a rag? Your wife needs treatment!”
Svetlana flew toward Nadezhda, grabbed a pile of her clothes lying on the armchair, and hurled them through the open doorway into the hall.
“You’ll be next!”
“She’s insane!” Pavel tried to move around Svetlana to reach his brother. “Anton, are you seeing this?”
But Svetlana blocked his path. She shoved him hard in the shoulder, forcing him to retreat toward the exit.
“Anton decides nothing here!” she shouted, advancing on him. “This is my home! My fortress! And you are rats eating someone else’s food! Out!”
She snatched Pavel’s jacket from the coat rack and threw it in his face. The zipper whipped painfully across his cheek.
“You… you…” Pavel hissed, pressing a hand to his cheek. “You don’t have a family anymore!”
“I never had a rat family like yours!” Svetlana grabbed his sleeve and practically dragged him out onto the stairwell.
Nadezhda, realizing that things had taken a serious turn, snatched up her bag and ran out after him, shrieking curses.
The door slammed shut with a heavy metallic clang.
Svetlana was shaking. Adrenaline boiled in her blood, demanding release.
The apartment fell into ringing silence.
Anton sat on the sofa.
“Sveta…” he whispered. “How could you? That’s Pashka… Where will they go at this hour?”
Svetlana slowly turned around.
There was not a drop of sympathy in her eyes.
“I don’t care, Anton. I don’t care at all. And you are a slug. Not a man — a rag.”
Suddenly, her phone beeped.
A message had arrived. Svetlana looked at the screen and burst into hysterical laughter.
“What is it?” Anton asked, frightened.
“Right now,” Svetlana said, showing him the screen, “the neighborhood building chat is writing: ‘Attention, in building 15, entrance three, a hot-water riser has burst. Floors five through one are flooded. Apartment 45 suffered the most. The parquet is floating.’”
Anton stared at her blankly.
“So what?”
“Apartment 45 is the one your brother bought,” Svetlana said with a predatory smile. “The one he rented out to tenants ‘for a sky-high price.’ Looks like the tenants caused the flood. Or maybe Pasha’s ‘elite renovation’ simply couldn’t handle the old pipes.”
“Oh God…” Anton turned pale. “They’ll have to pay for the damage to the neighbors downstairs… And redo their own renovation…”
“Exactly,” Svetlana nodded. “And the tenants will move out. And they won’t pay.”
“Sveta, then they have absolutely nowhere to go!” her husband jumped up. “We have to let them back in! They’re still on the landing!”
He rushed toward the door, but Svetlana blocked his way. She stretched out her hand and pressed her palm against his chest.
“No,” she said firmly.
“But they—”
“Anton,” she interrupted in an icy voice, “you seem to have forgotten one detail. This apartment was bought with the money I received from selling my grandmother’s house. You are registered here, but I am the owner.”
Her husband froze, as if he had walked into an invisible wall.
“If you open that door now,” Svetlana said quietly, and somehow that made her words even more frightening, “you will walk out with them. And you will not come back. Do you understand? Choose. Right now. Either you are a husband who respects his wife, or you are a sucker and a sponsor for your arrogant little brother.”
From behind the door came pounding fists and Pavel’s shouts.
“Anton! Open up! We’ve got problems! Do you hear me? It’s a nightmare over there! Let us in!”
Anton looked at the door, trembling under the blows, then at his wife.
Anger burned in Svetlana’s eyes.
He lowered his hands.
He took a step back.
Then he sat down on the sofa again.
Svetlana turned off the hallway light and went into the bedroom, leaving her husband sitting in the dark to the sound of his brother’s hysterical screams.