Olga barely tore herself away from the stove to wipe her hands on her apron and pick up the phone. Mikhail was calling again—this was already the second time in a row. It was clearly something important. She answered the call while simultaneously checking to see if dinner was burning.
“Hi, dear, how are you?” Mikhail’s voice sounded anxious.
“I’m frying cutlets. What’s wrong?” Olga felt a slight worry.
“Listen, here’s the situation… Nastya called. She’s in trouble—a flood has hit her apartment. Can you imagine? A pipe burst upstairs, and the entire ceiling came down. She’s asking if she could stay with us for a week or two until the repairs are done.”
Olga froze in place. “A week or two?”
“And where do you suggest we put her?” she asked coldly.
“Well, in the nursery, of course. You know about her asthma—she needs a quiet place,” Mikhail said faster, sensing possible resistance.
Olga narrowed her eyes as irritation grew inside her.
“And Katya with Dimka will probably be thrilled that they have to sleep on a sofa-bed in the living room while your dear sister rests in the nursery?”
“Olga, don’t start… It’s only two weeks. She’s my sister; she really has nowhere else to go.”
“Then why not stay in her own apartment?”
“There’s remodeling going on—paint, dust. With her health, that’s contraindicated.”
“Then she should turn to mom or her friends.”
Mikhail fell silent. It was obvious he had already thought this through.
“Mom’s room is too small. And Nastya herself thinks she’s more comfortable with us.”
Olga sighed. She understood that convincing Mikhail was pointless.
“Alright, but only two weeks.”
“Thank you, dear! You’re simply a miracle!” Mikhail exclaimed in relief.
After hanging up, Olga didn’t feel any relief. Nastya had never been an easy guest. She loved to boss people around, criticize, and impose her rules. Olga realized that the coming weeks would be a serious test of her patience.
That evening, Nastya arrived. Barely stepping over the threshold, she began inspecting the apartment like an inspector checking for compliance with standards.
“What is this, a sofa-bed?” Nastya raised her eyebrows in surprise as she examined the sleeping area in the nursery.
“It’s a perfectly comfortable sofa,” Olga replied, trying to remain calm.
“Comfortable? I wonder if you’ve ever tried sleeping on it? I, of course, will try to adapt.”
Olga merely gritted her teeth and continued unpacking Nastya’s things. On the very first evening, Mikhail’s sister began offering ideas for rearranging the furniture “for more coziness.”
“And also, we should close the balcony so the draft from the street stops. And these curtains are too bright—their glare gives me a headache,” Nastya declared as she settled in comfortably.
Olga looked at Mikhail, expecting a reaction. But he merely shrugged indifferently, pretending not to notice the tense atmosphere.
That night, lying in bed, for the first time Olga regretted not standing her ground. She had no idea that this was only the beginning.
A week passed. Just as Olga had anticipated, Nastya was not going to remain inconspicuous. She slept until noon, had breakfast just before lunch, and cranked the TV up to full volume all day long. Mountains of dirty dishes piled up in the kitchen, even though there was a dishwasher in the house.
Every evening, Olga patiently cleaned up after her, but her irritation only grew. Mikhail seemed oblivious. He spoke with his sister in private, lowering his voice. Whenever Olga tried to discuss Nastya’s behavior, he merely shrugged his hands.
“Olga, you’re nitpicking too much. Nastya is just not used to living with children.” “She hasn’t showered for three days! Do you think that’s normal?” “Maybe she just feels uncomfortable…” Olga growled into her pillow. It seemed as though a new mistress had taken over the house, and she had become a stranger in her own home.
By the second week, the oddities became even more pronounced. One evening, Olga discovered that a small sum of money she had left on a shelf in the entryway had disappeared. The amount wasn’t critical—a couple of thousand rubles—but Olga was certain she had placed it there.
“Mikhail, did you take the money from the shelf?” she asked when the children were already asleep.
“No, why would I? I have my own money,” he replied without hesitation.
“Maybe Nastya…”
“Olga, stop. You simply forgot where you put it.”
Olga clenched her teeth. She knew she wasn’t mistaken. It was absolutely clear.
By the end of the second week, Olga began noticing that Nastya regularly went out onto the balcony with her phone, saying she needed “personal space” for her conversations. But something about her behavior seemed suspicious.
One evening, the children shared an interesting piece of information with their mother. The youngest son, chatting innocently, said:
“Aunt Nastya said that her apartment is still occupied by tenants.”
“What?” Olga snapped at him.
“Yes, Mom. She said they’ve been living there for a long time, and she feels sorry to evict them. And who are these tenants?”
Those words hit like a bolt from the blue. Olga felt righteous anger boiling inside her. It was now clear: the story about the flooding was nothing more than a pretty lie. Nastya had moved in with them not because of the repairs, but to continue earning income from renting out her apartment—using their home as a temporary shelter.
That same evening, Olga decided to talk to Mikhail.
“Mikhail, your sister is deceiving us,” she declared bluntly.
“Where did you get that idea?”
“The children heard her talking about the tenants.”
Mikhail paled but tried to remain calm.
“Olga, maybe you’re mistaken. Nastya wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Wouldn’t? Then why do you keep quiet about the money you constantly give her? I’m struggling to make ends meet while you support her financial schemes.”
Mikhail fell silent, but his face spoke volumes.
“Clearly, you’re covering for her. She’s taking advantage of you, and you let her do it again and again.”
“It’s only temporary…” he mumbled.
Olga clenched her fists. Her patience was running out. Suspicions were becoming facts, and facts—undeniable evidence. All that remained was to uncover the whole truth.
A few days later, when Nastya once again went out onto the balcony with her phone, Olga cautiously followed her. Through a slightly ajar door, she caught fragments of a conversation:
“Dashik, don’t be angry… I promised everything would be fine! The tenants pay irregularly, but the situation will normalize soon… Of course, I’ll be staying here… Don’t worry, Olga can’t do anything to me—she’s too afraid of spoiling things with Misha… Yes, I did exaggerate a bit about the repairs…”
Olga froze as if paralyzed. Now everything became crystal clear: Nastya had not only taken advantage of their hospitality, but she had planned to stay with them under a fabricated pretext.
That very night, she demanded an explanation from Mikhail.
“Mikhail, your sister is lying to us. I accidentally overheard her conversation. There’s no repair at all. She’s renting out her apartment and using our money to settle her debts with someone else!”
Mikhail began shifting his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding her gaze.
“Olga, you must understand that Nastya is really having a hard time right now…”
“Hard time?!” Olga raised her voice. “She deceived us and feels at home here as if it were her own, all while her apartment is generating income!”
“But I can’t just kick her out,” Mikhail mumbled.
Fury overwhelmed Olga.
“You can’t kick her out? And what about me? Am I supposed to endure her constant orders, chaos, and manipulations? She’s turned our home into a transit zone!”
“It’s temporary…” he repeated, but now without the former confidence.
“Temporary?! She’s been here for three months! Do you really believe she’s going to leave voluntarily? She’s perfectly comfortable thanks to your weakness.”
Mikhail lowered his head.
“Fine. If you’re not ready to solve this problem, I will. And I’ll do it today!”
The next morning, when Nastya came down to the kitchen, Olga met her with a cold stare.
“We need to have a talk,” she said calmly, but with a tone that brooked no argument.
“About what?” Nastya asked, feigning surprise as she sipped her coffee.
“About your ‘flood’,” Olga seethed through gritted teeth. “I know the truth.”
Nastya’s face first went pale, then flushed with color.
“And what do you know?”
“That there is no repair. You’re renting out your apartment and taking advantage of our kindness to cover your debts.”
Nastya snorted dismissively.
“And what of it? These are my personal affairs. Mikhail fully understands and supports me.”
“No, he doesn’t support it,” Olga replied firmly. “I’ve already discussed this with him. You’re packing your things and leaving our home today.”
“How dare you!” Nastya exploded. “This is his house!”
“But not yours,” Olga countered calmly.
Mikhail tried to defend his sister, but Olga remained unyielding. She personally gathered Nastya’s belongings, ignoring her outraged shouts, and carried them out into the hallway.
“You’re overstepping, Olga!” Nastya shouted as a final remark.
“No, Nastya, it’s you who has crossed every boundary by deciding you could lie to us and manipulate us.”
The door slammed behind her, leaving a heavy atmosphere in its wake. Olga sighed deeply with a sense of relief, but she knew that a serious conversation with her husband was now inevitable.
After Nastya’s departure, a gloomy silence settled over the apartment. Mikhail stood in the middle of the room, shifting his weight nervously and clearly feeling guilty. Olga, unwilling to meet his gaze, began methodically restoring order—rearranging books and vases that had been displaced during his sister’s stay.
“Do you really think this is normal?” she finally broke the silence. “Three months of deceit, chaos, and then you accuse me of cruelty?”
Mikhail remained silent, nervously running a hand through his hair.
“I know she made a mistake,” he finally said, lowering his eyes. “But she’s my sister. How could I live with the thought that I denied her help?”
Olga abruptly turned to him, emotions unmasked.
“And how could you live knowing that she’s exploiting us? How could you watch her destroy our life, our comfort? Mikhail, I’m not against helping, but never like this!”
“You’re right…” he acknowledged after a long pause. “I wanted to do everything right, but it all turned out so wrong…”
“It turned out that I endured this nonsense for three months,” Olga’s voice trembled slightly. “And it will never happen again.”
She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.
“Mikhail, I love you, but there must be clear boundaries between us. No family ties can be placed above our own family. If you try to help someone at the expense of our well-being again, you risk losing everything.”
Her words were final and unequivocal. Mikhail understood that arguing was futile. He slowly approached his wife and cautiously embraced her.
“Forgive me. I was truly wrong. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
Olga lingered in his arms for a moment, then quietly sighed.
“I hope you remember this lesson.”
In the following days, Olga gladly disposed of everything that reminded her of Nastya’s stay. Every item she threw away seemed to cleanse the space of the accumulated negativity. Mikhail tried to help, realizing how much he had let his wife down.
When the apartment once again regained its coziness and harmony, Olga felt genuine relief. The children slept in their own beds once more, the kitchen filled with appetizing aromas, and the home reclaimed its status as a family sanctuary.
A month later, Mikhail came home from work with news: Nastya wanted to drop by again “for a talk.” Olga only sneered dismissively.
“If she wants to talk, the phone is still there. She will never set foot in my house again.”
Mikhail understood that arguing was pointless. He conveyed the refusal to his sister, who, as expected, was deeply offended.
Through mutual acquaintances, rumors reached Olga: they called her callous, selfish, and calculating. But she only smirked to herself.
“Let them say whatever they want. I’ve learned to set my boundaries, and now everything will happen strictly on my terms.”