Irina was hurrying home. She missed her native town, her favorite street, and her apartment terribly. After being away for half a year, even the familiar streets that flashed by in taxi windows seemed a little different.
More than anything, Irina now longed to sink into a bathtub filled with fragrant foam—to wash away the smells of airplanes and trains, to dissolve the traces of fatigue and the hectic rush of work. And then, wrapped in a soft bathrobe, she would collapse on the sofa, pour herself her favorite wine, and relax in front of a saccharine TV series.
At that time, Irina’s husband, Oleg, was also on a business trip and was due to return in a few days. So she looked forward to having some time to herself.
At work, she had been given a few days off to recover and adjust at home after such a long period of wandering from city to city and region to region in her native country.
Irina went up to her floor, rolled her suitcases out of the elevator, and inserted her key into the keyhole. However, she couldn’t open the door. She tried once more—again, it was no use.
The woman inspected the lock carefully; it was the same one. It seemed to her as if another key had been inserted from the inside.
“Strange, has Oleg returned early?” Irina thought. “Why didn’t he warn me?”
She knocked, and soon she heard footsteps behind the door. Then a woman’s voice asked, “Who’s there?”
“I’m the owner of the apartment,” Irina replied, tensing immediately. “Open up immediately!”
After a short pause, the sound of a key grinding in the lock was heard, and then the door opened a crack, revealing part of a woman’s face. Irina immediately noticed that her interlocutor was very young.
“What owner?” the young woman asked skeptically.
Without further words, Irina simply pushed the door forcefully. In that moment, the foulest suspicions sprang into her mind. The woman had literally burst into her own home. On the corridor floor sat a frightened and confused young woman of barely 30, who, it seemed, had been sent stumbling by the force of Irina’s push.
The apartment owner placed her belongings in the hallway while scrutinizing the stranger.
“Who are you?” Irina demanded darkly.
“Natasha,” the other answered.
“I see,” Irina replied as she looked around. “Now get out of here.”
“But Oleg—” the girl began.
Irina cut her off, grabbing the girl by the scruff and hurling her out into the entrance. Instinctively, she located the uninvited guest’s overcoat and shoes in the hall, scooped them up in one bundle, and threw them out as well, slamming the door loudly.
There was insistent knocking on the door from the outside.
“What are you doing?” Natasha shrieked. “My things are still inside!”
Oh, she had even brought her things!
Irina paced through her apartment and, to her horror, discovered obvious signs of someone else’s presence. By all appearances, Natasha had been living there for quite some time.
Overwhelmed with anger, Irina grabbed her phone and dialed her husband’s number.
“Yes, honey,” came a painfully familiar voice.
“I’m home,” Irina said sharply, “and I just threw your mistress out of the house.”
“Which mistress?” Oleg replied in astonishment.
“Natasha!” Irina announced. “Oleg, have you completely lost your conscience? Renting your girl out in my apartment…”
“Ira, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Oleg, the surprise in his voice sounding genuine.
“I’m on a business trip for a few more days,” he added, “and when I get back, we’ll talk. Sorry, my meeting is about to start.”
Oleg then disconnected, leaving Irina in a state of utter perplexity.
She went back to the hallway, approached the door, and peered through the peephole. Natasha was nowhere to be seen on the landing.
Irina looked out the window and saw that the strange girl was lingering near the entrance. Suddenly, her mother-in-law clarified the situation. A phone call from her came a minute later.
“Ira, why did you treat my daughter like that?” Tamara Nikolaevna demanded angrily.
“With your daughter?” Irina asked in surprise. “I’m seeing her for the first time today.”
After a brief silence on the line, Tamara Nikolaevna concluded, “Apparently, I forgot to warn you. I’ll be coming over now, and we’ll talk about everything.”
After speaking with her mother-in-law, Irina’s questions only multiplied. She and Oleg had been married for two years, and he had never mentioned having a biological sister.
“Your father and I divorced when your brother and you were just 2 and 3 years old,” explained Tamara Nikolaevna when she and Irina later spoke in the living room.
Meanwhile, Natalya sat silently on a chair in a corner of the room, glowering at Irina in hurt.
“Natasha left for another city with her father,” continued Tamara Nikolaevna. “And Oleg stayed with me.”
“And they hadn’t been in touch all this time?” Irina wondered.
“That’s just how it turned out,” admitted her mother-in-law guiltily, “but now Natasha has decided to move to a big city. So I decided to place her with you, temporarily.”
“Why with us?” Irina asked in surprise. “She’s your daughter.”
“Ira, I have only a studio apartment,” declared Tamara Nikolaevna, “and you have three whole rooms. You understand that living here will be much more convenient for her.”
“And did you ever think about our convenience?” Irina countered. “Oleg and I have our own life.”
“My goodness, Ira, you haven’t had a home for a whole six months!” exclaimed Tamara Nikolaevna. “Soon, you’ll dash off to somewhere else again. Don’t you care who’s living here? Natasha is a very neat young woman, very capable around the house. Look at the order she’s brought to the apartment. Just bear with it, please.”
Irina glanced at Natalya, who had not uttered a single word during the conversation.
“I’ll wait for my husband, and then we’ll discuss everything,” she told her mother-in-law.
Until Oleg returned, Natalya rarely left the room that had been assigned to her; she stepped out only to use the bathroom or to eat.
Finally, Oleg returned. On the same day, the mother-in-law showed up again to recount the family history to her son.
“Olya, I’ve been deeply in your sister’s debt all these years,” Tamara Nikolaevna said mournfully. “I hope you won’t let me down. Get to know each other better in the meantime.”
“Interesting, isn’t it,” remarked Irina, “that your mother was in her debt, but you’re the one who should settle it.”
“Ira, I’m still in shock and don’t know how to handle this situation,” Oleg answered bewilderedly, “but it seems she isn’t causing any problems so far.”
Irina decided to wait and observe the situation for the time being. Moreover, her mother-in-law was right: the daughter-in-law was overworking herself. Oleg had a more flexible schedule, so he spent considerably more time at home. Natalya, for her part, wasn’t particularly eager to find a job yet, but she had taken on nearly all of the household chores.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Irina confessed one evening during dinner when Natalya stepped out of the kitchen, “but I’m actually glad your sister moved in. I don’t even have a headache over domestic matters.”
“I told you not to act impulsively,” Oleg replied. “We’re gradually finding a common language with her—making up for lost years.”
Irina finally calmed down. Besides, she was soon to leave on another business trip, which meant she didn’t have to worry about her husband, who wasn’t exactly self-sufficient at home.
Before, Oleg used to call his wife for any reason if Tamara Nikolaevna wasn’t around. Now whenever his wife called, he invariably answered that everything was fine. His voice was upbeat and cheerful, so Irina could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
This time, she would be away from home for a month.
When she was approaching the entrance, a stranger came up to her.
“Excuse me, are you Irina?” the stranger inquired.
“Yes, what is it?” Irina replied, surprised.
“It’s just that I’m Natalya—your husband’s real sister,” the woman explained.
Irina stopped in shock.
“I can show you my documents,” the woman hastily explained, pulling a passport out of her bag.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand,” admitted Irina.
“There is an impostor in your apartment,” the real Natalya explained. “She is my neighbor, and she’s a fraud. In my foolishness, I told her our family history, and she started corresponding with my mother in my name, posing as me. In reality, her name is Olga.”
A chill ran through Irina.
“And what now?” she asked.
“Act as if nothing happened,” Natalya advised. “Try to draw her into an honest conversation. I’ll come to you later.”
“Natalya, what are your plans for the future?” Irina asked as she began unpacking her things.
“I don’t know yet,” the fake Natalya answered, “I haven’t decided.”
“But you’ve been living here long enough,” Irina remarked in surprise. “Don’t you have any goals or ambitions?”
“I’d like to stay with you as a live-in housemaid,” the fake Natalya said. “As you can see, I’m doing quite well. And you and Oleg would pay me a salary.”
Irina looked at the speaker in astonishment.
“Is that really what you want from life?” she clarified.
“For now, yes,” the fake Natalya replied.
Then the intercom rang. And within a few minutes, the real Natalya was in the apartment. When she arrived, Olga immediately seemed lost for words. She literally froze in place.
“My mother and brother are coming here,” the real Natalya announced.
“What the hell made you interfere?” Olga exploded in anger, ready to pounce with clenched fists.
“Because, despite everything, this is my family,” Natalya replied.
“If you keep moving, I’ll call the police,” Irina warned the impostor.
It would be an understatement to say that both Tamara Nikolaevna and Oleg were shocked.
“Oh my God, it’s my fault,” Tamara Nikolaevna sobbed, “I didn’t recognize my own daughter!”
“Mom, you didn’t even look at the documents—you just took her word for it,” Oleg chided.
“We haven’t seen each other for so many years,” Tamara Nikolaevna tried to explain, “I wasn’t bold enough to disturb them.”
“I wonder what her plan was?” Irina asked Natalya as they sipped tea in the kitchen.
Both women decided to let the mother and son sort things out on their own for the time being.
“Surely, her plan was to cozy up to your husband and settle in here,” Natalya speculated, “Olga is an utter failure in life—completely shameless. She even tried to get in with my husband, after which she immediately became nothing more than an ex-friend.”
“And how did you find out she was here?” Olga asked in surprise.
“I have a husband who works in IT,” Natalya explained, “and when Olga suddenly left, I found it suspicious. I asked my husband to remotely access her messages. That’s how I learned everything. I know it isn’t entirely legal, but…”
For a heavy conversation with her mother, Natalya went to her home. They truly had much to discuss. Irina and Oleg were silently thankful to the impostor. Had it not been for her, the real meeting between the brother and sister might never have taken place.