Nadezhda was climbing the stairs after a hard day working in the accounting department of a medical center. The hot July evening made her damp blouse cling to her back, and the bag with documents felt heavier than usual. Her parents had left for their aunt’s dacha a week ago, leaving their daughter the keys to their apartment on the second floor so she could water the plants and check the mail.
On the landing between the second and third floors, Nadezhda froze. Loud voices and laughter came from her parents’ apartment. Music was playing so loudly that the door vibrated. Her heart started beating faster — her parents were supposed to return only in three days.
Nadezhda pressed her ear to the door. Among unfamiliar voices, she clearly recognized the voice of her mother-in-law, Valentina Dmitrievna. The woman was saying something, occasionally bursting into laughter. Someone was clinking glasses, someone else turned the TV volume even higher.
Nadezhda’s hands trembled as she took out her phone. The first call to her husband—no answer. The second call a minute later—silence again. The third call—again voicemail. Panic started rising somewhere deep inside her, but Nadezhda gritted her teeth. Oleg clearly knew where his mother was.
Nadezhda took a bunch of keys from her bag and quietly inserted one into the lock. The door opened silently. The first thing that hit her was a thick smell of tobacco smoke mixed with alcohol and something else, sweetish and cloying. Her mother’s favorite lilies on the windowsill drooped from the stuffiness.
In the hallway lay strange shoes—men’s boots, women’s sandals, children’s sneakers. On the shoe cabinet stood an empty vodka bottle and an overflowing ashtray. Nadezhda took off her shoes and tiptoed toward the living room.
The scene that opened before her eyes made Nadezhda grab the doorframe. Her mother’s pristine white tablecloth, washed only on big holidays, was stained with red spots and ash. On the table stood three empty vodka bottles, several beer bottles, and her mother’s crystal glasses, inside which cigarette butts floated.
The sofa cushions were scattered on the floor. On the coffee table, someone had left wet rings from bottles right on the polished surface. One of her mother’s crystal vases lay on its side but, fortunately, was intact.
Five people sat at the table. Valentina Dmitrievna sat at the head of the table, like the mistress of the house. Next to her was a man about fifty years old in a crumpled shirt, two women about the same age as the mother-in-law, and a sixteen-year-old teenager smoking despite his young age.
“My daughter-in-law then says she’ll go on vacation not to our dacha, but to her parents’!” Valentina Dmitrievna was telling the story, waving her vodka glass. “Can you imagine? We are strangers to her!”
“Oh, come on, Val, youth are like that these days,” replied one of the women, lighting another cigarette. “Their own family means more to them.”
“What kind of own family?” the mother-in-law indignantly said. “My son is her family! And what about the parents? Parents won’t help when the kids move on!”
The music played so loudly that no one noticed Nadezhda in the doorway. The girl stood and watched how her mother-in-law’s company shamelessly took over her parents’ apartment. The teenager was flicking ash right onto the carpet. The man in the crumpled shirt put his dirty boots on her mother’s armchair.
“What a nice apartment, though,” the second woman remarked, looking around the room. “In the center, recently renovated. They got lucky.”
“Yeah,” agreed Valentina Dmitrievna. “We’ll never have one like this. But the daughter-in-law grew up here and got everything ready-made.”
Nadezhda clenched her fists. Her parents had denied themselves everything to renovate this apartment. Her father worked two jobs, her mother sewed at home in the evenings. Every ruble was hard-earned.
Valentina Dmitrievna got up from the table and went to the china cabinet. Nadezhda noticed how the mother-in-law took her mother’s porcelain figurine — a gift from her late grandmother — into her hands.
“Beautiful thing,” Valentina Dmitrievna said, turning the figurine in her hands. “Probably antique.”
“Valya, what are you doing?” laughed the man in the shirt. “You’re not going to take it with you, are you?”
“What?” shrugged the mother-in-law. “It’s just collecting dust here anyway. The daughter-in-law doesn’t appreciate these things; young people nowadays only care about their phones.”
Nadezhda could no longer endure this. She stepped out from behind the corner and loudly clapped her hands. The music continued, but all conversations instantly stopped. Five pairs of eyes fixed on Nadezhda.
Valentina Dmitrievna froze with the figurine in her hands. Her face first showed surprise, then fear, then something like irritation.
“Nadyusha!” Valentina Dmitrievna exclaimed falsely, quickly putting the figurine back. “How are you here?”
Nadezhda slowly looked around the room, taking in every detail of the mess. The stains on the tablecloth. The cigarette butts in the crystal glasses. The dirty boot marks on the armchair. Ash on the carpet. Wet rings on the polished coffee table.
“I live one floor above,” Nadezhda answered calmly. “And I have keys to this apartment because my parents asked me to look after it while they were away.”
The mother-in-law’s company exchanged glances. The teenager hastily stubbed out his cigarette right on the floor. The man in the shirt took his feet off the armchair.
“We just dropped in…” one of the women began.
“For an hour,” Valentina Dmitrievna added. “Nothing serious, just to talk, reminisce about youth. We’re almost family, Nadezhda.”
“Almost family don’t smoke in someone else’s apartment or leave cigarette butts in crystal glasses,” Nadezhda replied without raising her voice.
Valentina Dmitrievna blushed. The group began shifting nervously in their seats.
“Nadya, why are you like this…” the mother-in-law tried to justify herself. “We’re family! Oleg doesn’t mind; I talked to him.”
“If Oleg doesn’t mind, then why doesn’t he answer my calls?” Nadezhda took out her phone and showed the screen with missed calls.
Valentina Dmitrievna opened her mouth but found no words. The man in the shirt began collecting empty bottles, clearly preparing to retreat.
“We’ll clean everything up now,” one of the women quickly said. “Nothing terrible happened.”
Nadezhda went to the window and opened it wide, letting in fresh air. The tobacco smoke began to slowly dissipate. She turned to the group and held out her hand, palm up.
“The keys to my parents’ apartment. Here. Right now.”
Valentina Dmitrievna flinched as if struck by electricity. Her face turned crimson.
“What keys?” Valentina Dmitrievna tried to feign ignorance. “What are you talking about?”
“The keys you used to open this apartment,” Nadezhda replied calmly. “My parents gave keys to no one but me. So the keys you have must be from Oleg.”
The mother-in-law’s company started whispering among themselves. The teenager got up from the table and headed to the exit.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Nadezhda stopped him. “No one leaves until they clean up.”
“We’ll clean up now, now,” Valentina Dmitrievna hurriedly said. “And the keys… what keys… I didn’t know you were against it…”
“Valentina Dmitrievna,” Nadezhda said calmly, “you clearly knew you were throwing a party in someone else’s apartment without the owners’ permission. Hand over the keys.”
Nadezhda’s hand was still outstretched. She had no intention of backing down.
The man in the crumpled shirt nervously laughed and began hastily gathering empty bottles into a bag. One of the women got up and started brushing ash off her mother’s tablecloth. The teenager was already in the hallway, putting on his sneakers.
“Val, come on already,” said the man without looking up. “It’s late, gotta work tomorrow.”
Valentina Dmitrievna slowly rummaged through her purse. Her face burned with shame and anger. Her hand trembled as she took out a bunch of keys.
“Here are your keys,” Valentina Dmitrievna threw them defiantly onto Nadezhda’s palm. “Hope you’re happy.”
Nadezhda clenched the keys in her fist but said nothing. The power in the room had completely shifted to her. The mother-in-law’s company felt it clearly.
“I ask everyone to leave the apartment,” Nadezhda said calmly, pointing to the door.
The guests began hurriedly packing up. The women muttered apologies, the man finished the rest of his beer straight from the bottle. Valentina Dmitrievna silently packed a pack of cigarettes into her bag.
“Nadya, we didn’t mean any harm,” one of the women tried to justify. “We just sat and talked.”
“In someone else’s apartment, without the owners’ permission,” Nadezhda replied. “Smoking, drinking, damaging things.”
Valentina Dmitrievna put on her summer jacket and headed to the exit. At the threshold, the mother-in-law stopped and suddenly turned sharply.
“You forgot who is the elder in this family!” Valentina Dmitrievna spat. “I am your husband’s mother! I decide where I should be!”
Nadezhda looked at her mother-in-law carefully and coldly.
“This is my parents’ apartment,” the girl answered evenly. “Here, I am the elder. And you will never appear here again.”
Valentina Dmitrievna jerked as if slapped. The group quickly pushed her out the door. Nadezhda locked the door and leaned against it with her back.
The silence seemed deafening after the screams and music. Nadezhda returned to the living room and began cleaning. Every movement helped regain control over the situation. She folded the sofa cushions, collected cigarette butts from the crystal glasses, wiped the wet rings from the coffee table.
She had to take off the tablecloth and soak it in cold water. Nadezhda opened all the windows and turned on the fan. The tobacco smoke gradually faded away, giving way to the scent of her mother’s lilies.
When the worst was cleaned up, the phone finally rang. Oleg.
“Nadya, Mom says you yelled at her,” the husband began without greeting.
“Your mother threw a drunken party in my parents’ apartment,” Nadezhda interrupted calmly. “With strangers, smoking, and damaging things.”
“Oh, come on, you’re exaggerating. Mom just sat with friends. I gave her the keys to water the flowers if needed.”
“I water the flowers. I have the keys. We’ll talk at home. Your mother will no longer come to my parents’ apartment.”
Nadezhda hung up, not waiting for a response. Her hands still trembled from adrenaline, but inside settled a strange confidence. The boundary had been drawn clearly and forever.
The next morning, Nadezhda went to a locksmith workshop and ordered the locks changed. The locksmith came the same day. Only her parents and Nadezhda herself received new keys.
When her parents returned from the dacha two days later, Nadezhda told them everything honestly. Her father listened silently, her mother gasped seeing the stains on the beloved tablecloth.
“You did the right thing, daughter,” her father said. “No strangers will take over our home.”
“Good thing you caught them,” added her mother. “Who knows what else they might have done.”
Oleg tried to insist that his mother get the keys back. They argued two nights in a row. The husband accused Nadezhda of disrespecting elders, destroying family ties.
“Either you’re on my side, or we settle this decisively,” Nadezhda gave an ultimatum. “I won’t let anyone cross my family’s boundaries anymore.”
Oleg fell silent. Divorce was not in his plans; the mortgage was in both their names.
Valentina Dmitrievna didn’t call or visit for a month. Then she cautiously tried to mend relations. At first, through Oleg she sent invitations to family dinners. Then she herself called asking for a meeting.
“Nadyusha, let’s forget this foolishness,” the mother-in-law said in a conciliatory tone. “We’re family; we need to support each other.”
Nadezhda agreed to communicate, but now meetings only took place in public places or at Valentina Dmitrievna’s home. The mother-in-law no longer entered her parents’ apartment. The keys remained with those trusted by the owners themselves.
The family hierarchy had changed forever. Valentina Dmitrievna understood that her daughter-in-law knew how to stand up for herself and would not allow anyone to step over her. Respect didn’t come immediately, but it came. And Nadezhda never again doubted that she had the right to say a firm no.