Outside the windows of a two-story house, a January blizzard was howling. Tatyana stood at the panoramic living room window, watching as snowflakes slowly covered the garden paths. The house had come to her after her divorce—her ex-husband insisted that she and her son live there, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. The evening silence was broken by a phone call.
“You have no idea how tired I am,” Natalia, her brother’s wife, said sharply on the phone. “My kids do their homework on the windowsill because there’s not enough space at the kitchen table. And here you are, chilling in a huge house all alone!”
Tatyana sighed heavily. This conversation had happened before, ever since Natalia found out about the country house.
“I’m not alone, Artem is with me,” she calmly replied, looking at the falling snow.
“Just one child!” Natalia’s voice rang with irritation. “And I have three. We’re crammed into a studio. You could at least let us stay for a while!”
Memories from two years ago surfaced when Tatyana had invited Aunt Nina to stay. She came for the weekend and stayed for six months. She established her own rules, commanded everyone, and nearly drove Tatyana to a nervous breakdown.
“Natalia, let’s not start this,” Tatyana moved away from the window. “You know this is my house.”
“That’s exactly it!” There was a thud on the other end of the line, apparently Natalia had hit the table. “Everything was just handed to you, while my husband and I work like cursed souls and can’t even afford a proper apartment!”
At that moment, steps were heard on the stairs—Artem, Tatyana’s thirteen-year-old son, was descending. He was pale and clearly upset, having heard the shouting on the phone again.
“Mom, I think I’ll go outside and clear the snow,” he said quietly.
Tatyana nodded silently. Waiting for the front door to close, she firmly said into the phone:
“Listen to me carefully. I understand your situation. But this is my house, and I’m not planning to share it with anyone. If you want, I can help you find a larger place or…”
“Shove your help!” Natalia interrupted. “I’ll tell everyone how heartless you are! Brother will be ashamed to have such a sister!”
The call ended abruptly. Tatyana sank into a chair, feeling her hands tremble. Outside, Artem’s figure flickered—he was indeed clearing the paths, although he usually couldn’t be forced out in such weather.
In the evening, her brother Sergey called.
“Tanyush, what are you doing?” he began wearily. “Natalia is beside herself. Can’t you see her situation? There’s plenty of room at your place…”
“Sergey, I’m not obliged to let anyone into my house,” Tatyana firmly replied.
“Nobody’s talking about obligations! But can’t you help? Just for a couple of months, until it gets warmer. The kids could run around in the fresh air…”
“No,” Tatyana cut him off. “I don’t want my son to go through that stress again. Remember what happened with Aunt Nina?”
Her brother fell silent. He remembered. Back then, Artem had started stuttering and it took a long time to calm him down.
The next morning, Tatyana found out that Natalia had written an angry post in the local chat group of the cottage settlement. She vividly described how “some relatives live in huge houses while their nephews and nieces are crammed into tight spaces.” Although she didn’t name names, all the neighbors understood who she was talking about.
Tatyana didn’t respond. Instead, she contacted a realtor and asked for options for three-bedroom apartments in the suburbs. A few days later, she sent Natalia a list of suitable options and an offer to help with the first payment.
In response, Natalia said, “Choke on your handouts! Do you think just because you have money, you can demean your relatives?”
That evening, when the blizzard had subsided, Tatyana went outside. Artem had cleared all the paths, even the one leading to the old gazebo. He was sitting there now, wrapped in a warm jacket, drawing something in a notebook.
“Are you cold?” Tatyana asked, sitting next to him.
“No, it’s fine,” he snapped the notebook shut. “Mom, why is Aunt Natalia so angry? We didn’t do anything bad, did we?”
Tatyana hugged her son’s shoulders.
“Sometimes people think that if someone has something good, they are obliged to share it. But that’s not how it works. Everyone has the right to live as they see fit.”
“Are my cousins not coming to play with us?” Artem’s voice carried a hint of sadness.
Tatyana remained silent. She didn’t know what to say. Snow began to fall again, covering the cleared paths with a white blanket.
The following week was especially cold. Tatyana had grown accustomed to the quiet of the country house, but now it seemed oppressive. Even the crunch of snow underfoot was irritating. After her conversation with Natalia, her phone was overwhelmed with calls from relatives.
On Saturday morning, when the thermometer showed minus twenty-five degrees, her mother arrived. She entered the house, shaking snow off her boots, and immediately headed to the kitchen.
“Tatyana, we need to talk seriously,” she began, settling down at the table. “What are you doing? Why are you denying your own family?”
Tatyana silently put the kettle on. She knew this conversation was bound to happen.
“Mom, let’s not do this,” she tried to stop the impending discussion.
“No, we will!” her mother slammed her hand on the table. “Do you realize that Natalia has three children? They have nowhere to live! And here you have five rooms empty.”
“They’re not empty. This is our home, Artem’s and mine.”
“That’s exactly it—a home! Not an apartment, but a whole house! Can’t you make room? At least for a while, until they find something suitable?”
Tatyana took out the cups, trying to maintain her composure.
“Mom, do you remember what happened when Aunt Nina lived here? How she commanded everyone, how she imposed her rules? How Artem started stuttering from the stress?”
“But Natalia is different! She’s young, with kids…”
“That’s why it would be even worse,” Tatyana poured the tea. “Three kids, their own rules, their own schedule. This is my house, and I want to live in it peacefully.”
Her mother shook her head:
“You’ve become so hardened. Back then…”
“Back then, I yielded to everyone,” Tatyana interrupted. “And what? Did anyone think of me when I was left alone with a child? Who helped when the roof needed repairing?”
“But it’s your house! You should have…”
“Exactly. My house—my rules.”
At that moment, Artem entered the kitchen. He paused at the door, seeing his grandmother.
“Hello, dear,” she smiled. “How are you doing here? Probably boring with just your mom in such a remote place?”
“We’re fine,” the boy quietly replied and quickly exited.
The mother sighed:
“See? The child has become completely introverted. It would be more fun if his cousins lived here.”
“He’s not introverted. He just doesn’t like it when people pressure me.”
After her mother left, Tatyana stood at the window for a long time. Outside, snow slowly fell, covering the tracks of her mother’s car on the driveway. Memories swirled in her head.
Three years ago, when she and her husband divorced, none of her relatives offered help. Everyone sympathized, shook their heads, but no one rushed to help. Tatyana learned to cope with problems on her own: fixing the leaking roof, changing light bulbs, dealing with electricity. And now, when she finally had stability, everyone suddenly decided she was obliged to share.
In the evening, Sergey called.
“You upset mom,” he began without a greeting. “She came back distressed.”
“I’m not upsetting anyone,” Tatyana replied tiredly. “I’m just defending my boundaries.”
“What boundaries, Tanya? What are you talking about? This is family! Natalia is beside herself, the kids are asking why their aunt won’t let them in…”
“Why should I let them in?”
“Because you have the opportunity!” Sergey’s voice took on a harsh tone. “You have a huge house, and you…”
“And what?” Tatyana interrupted. “Am I to blame for having a house? For keeping it? For learning to live independently?”
“What does that have to do with it? It’s about helping family!”
“Fine,” Tatyana calmly said. “Where was this help when I was left alone? When Artem was sick and I had to work? When the roof leaked?”
Silence hung on the line.
“That’s different,” Sergey finally said. “Everyone had their own problems then.”
“And now I have my own rules.”
After that conversation, Tatyana went upstairs. In Artem’s room, the light was on. She quietly opened the door—her son was sitting at the table, writing something in a notebook.
“Can’t sleep?” she asked.
“I’m doing an assignment,” he looked up. “Mom, is it true that Natasha, Kolya, and Sveta will move in with us?”
“No,” Tatyana firmly replied. “This is our house, and we will live here alone.”
“Okay,” he paused. “You know, I heard you talking with Uncle Sergey. You were right. When I was sick, no one came. They just sent a postcard.”
Tatyana hugged her son. Outside, the snow continued to fall, and somewhere in the city, Natalia was probably making new plans to invade their living space.
In mid-January, strong frosts hit. Tatyana woke up to a strange noise in the yard. Looking out the window, she saw an unfamiliar car at the gate. It was seven in the morning.
Throwing on a warm robe, she went downstairs. The doorbell rang insistently. On the doorstep stood Natalia with her children and some bags.
“What’s going on?” Tatyana froze in the doorway.
“Our heating was turned off,” Natalia said without greeting. “It’s ten degrees in the apartment. I can’t do this with the kids.”
She tried to push her way into the house, but Tatyana didn’t budge.
“And you came at seven in the morning without warning?”
“What was I supposed to do? You’re not picking up the phone!”
“Because we’ve already discussed everything.”
Natalia squinted:
“So you’re going to kick us out into the cold? The kids? Your own flesh and blood?”
Behind her, three children shuffled—the ten-year-old Natasha, eight-year-old Kolya, and five-year-old Sveta. They looked frozen and frightened.
“I’m not kicking anyone out,” Tatyana calmly replied. “You came without asking. Why didn’t you go to mom’s?”
“She has a one-bedroom apartment! Where would we all fit there?”
“So it’s okay to come here?”
Steps were heard on the stairs—Artem came down, sleepy.
“Mom, what happened?”
“Nothing,” Tatyana turned to her son. “Go upstairs, I’ll handle it.”
But Natalia had already slipped into the hallway, pushing the children ahead:
“See? Your aunt has a huge house, and she won’t let you warm up! That’s what she’s like!”
“Natalia!” Tatyana raised her voice. “Stop manipulating the children!”
“I’m not manipulating, I’m telling the truth! Look—five rooms for two people! And we’re cramped in one room!”
The children huddled together in fear. Artem still stood on the stairs, bewildered by what was happening.
“Alright,” Tatyana spoke slowly. “The children can warm up. But then you all go to mom’s.”
“We’re not going anywhere!” Natalia snapped and began unzipping her jacket. “I won’t let my children freeze in ten degrees while there are empty rooms here!”
She took out her phone:
“I’m calling Sergey now. Let’s see what he says!”
Tatyana felt anger boiling inside:
“Alright. I’m giving you an hour to warm up. Then I’m calling the police.”
“What?!” Natalia’s eyes widened. “Are you out of your mind? Calling the police on your own sister?”
“You’re not my sister. You’re my brother’s wife, who’s trying to take over my house.”
“How can you be so…” Natalia choked with outrage.
Just then, the doorbell rang again. Sergey stood on the doorstep—apparently, he had followed his wife.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, surveying the gathered crowd.
“Your sister is kicking us out into the cold!” Natalia exclaimed. “We have no heating, and she…”
“You have somewhere to go,” Tatyana interrupted. “To mom’s. To a hotel. Anywhere.”
Sergey tried to take control of the situation:
“Alright, let’s all calm down. Tanya, you can’t be like this. The kids are freezing…”
“No, Sergey,” Tatyana looked her brother in the eye. “This is a planned action. She deliberately came at seven in the morning, unannounced, with the kids. Thought I’d be embarrassed to refuse.”
“But it’s really cold…”
“That’s not my problem!” Tatyana raised her voice. “You have money for a taxi, there’s mom’s apartment, there are acquaintances. Why did you decide you can just barge into my house?”
Natalia theatrically sobbed:
“See how she thinks of her relatives! And she calls herself a sister!”
“I repeat for the last time,” Tatyana was adamant. “You have an hour. Then I’m calling the police.”
Sergey tried to reason with his sister:
“Tanya, why be so harsh? Let’s just talk…”
“No, Sergey. I’ve already said—it’s my house. I won’t allow a circus here.”
Natalia resumed crying, the children huddled close to their mother. Artem quietly went back upstairs—he couldn’t watch the scene any longer.
Suddenly Natalia’s phone rang. She answered, and her face changed:
“The heating’s back on? Already? Why didn’t they warn us?”
Silence hung in the air. Tatyana smirked:
“Well, that’s great. You can go back home.”
“But… but we’re already here,” Natalia stammered. “Maybe we could still…”
“No,” Tatyana cut her off. “Take the kids and leave.”
Sergey tried to intervene:
“Since you’re already here, maybe…”
“Out!” Tatyana flung open the front door. “Everyone out of my house!”
Realizing her plan had failed, Natalia hurriedly dressed the children. Sergey helped her, casting reproachful glances at his sister.
When the door closed behind them, Tatyana collapsed in a chair, shaken by the stress. Artem came down from upstairs and sat next to her.
“Mom, you did great,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t have done that.”
Tatyana forced a smile:
“Sometimes you have to be strong. Even if they think you’re the bad one.”
After that incident with the attempted takeover of the house, a week passed. Tatyana didn’t respond to calls from relatives, only occasionally exchanging terse messages with her mother. The house was filled with an unusual silence, broken only by the crunch of snow underfoot when she and Artem went out to clear the paths.
But on Sunday morning, the silence exploded with a loud knock on the door. On the doorstep stood her mother, with a grim Sergey looming behind her.
“We need to talk,” she began without preamble. “Immediately.”
Tatyana silently let them into the house. The living room was warm, smelling of freshly brewed coffee.
“Do you realize what you’ve done?” her mother sat down in the chair, not even taking off her coat. “The whole settlement is talking about how you kicked your own family out into the cold!”
“I didn’t kick anyone out,” Tatyana calmly replied. “They came without an invitation.”
“They had no heating!” Sergey chimed in.
“So what? They had mom’s apartment, money for a hotel. Why did they decide they could just barge into someone else’s house?”
“Someone else’s house?” her mother threw up her hands. “Do you hear yourself? We’re family!”
Tatyana slowly sank into the chair opposite:
“Family doesn’t barge into a house at seven in the morning. Family doesn’t manipulate children. Family doesn’t throw tantrums on the doorstep.”
“And family doesn’t call the police!” Sergey countered.
“I didn’t call. But I was ready to.”
Her mother shook her head:
“I don’t recognize you, daughter. You’ve become so hardened, soulless. For what? For this house?”
“No, mom. For my peace of mind. And for Artem.”
“What does Artem have to do with it?” Sergey intervened. “He’d be better off with his cousins!”
Tatyana bitterly smiled:
“Better? Did you see how he hides in his room when you come? How he flinches from loud voices? Do you remember what happened when Aunt Nina lived here?”
“You’re always bringing that up!” her mother stood up. “You always blame everyone else, and yourself…”
“And what about myself?” Tatyana interrupted. “I learned to live without your help? I’m raising my son? I’m maintaining this house?”
The room fell into a heavy silence. Outside, snow slowly fell, covering the tracks on the driveway.
“You know what,” Sergey finally said. “Since you’re so independent, live alone. But don’t complain later that everyone abandoned you.”
“I’m not complaining,” Tatyana quietly replied. “I’m just living my life.”
Her mother sighed heavily:
“Natalia is now in the hospital. With a nervous breakdown. Are you satisfied?”
Tatyana felt a tightening inside, but her voice remained firm:
“That’s her choice. I’m not responsible for someone else’s nervous breakdowns.”
“You… you just…” her mother choked with outrage. “I can’t listen to this anymore. Let’s go, Sergey.”
They left, slamming the door loudly. Tatyana sat in the chair, watching the falling snow through the window. Artem came down from the stairs.
“Mom, I heard everything,” he said quietly. “You’re not to blame.”
Tatyana smiled weakly:
“I know, dear. Sometimes, to preserve yourself, you have to lose others.”
In the evening, she found dozens of missed calls and messages. Common acquaintances, neighbors, distant relatives—all wrote the same thing: “How could you?”, “What happened to you?”, “You’ve gone mad in your mansion.”
Tatyana methodically deleted the messages, blocked the numbers. She understood there was no going back. The family had made their choice; she had made hers.
A month later, Sergey took their mother to live with him. He said, now that he had a larger apartment, there was no reason for her to sit alone in a studio. Tatyana learned about it from a neighbor. No one called her.
In the spring, Artem stopped attending family holidays. At first, he refused on his own, then they simply stopped inviting him. His cousins demonstratively turned away when they met—Natalia had done her job well, explaining how evil their aunt was.
When the snow melted, Tatyana took up gardening. She cleared old flower beds, planted flowers, and made plans for fixing up the gazebo. Now she had a lot of free time—no one called, no one came without warning, no one demanded attention.
One evening, she sat in that very gazebo, watching the sunset. Artem joined her, handing her a cup of hot tea.
“Mom, do you regret it?” he asked after a pause.
“Regret what?”
“Well, all of this. That we’re now completely alone.”
Tatyana sipped her tea:
“You know, sometimes it’s better to be alone than to be with those who don’t respect your boundaries. We’re not alone, we’re together. And we have our home.”
“And Aunt Natalia still lives in her studio?”
“Yes. And that’s her choice. Just like our life here is our choice.”
Artem nodded. Dusk gathered over the garden, lights twinkled in the distance in neighboring houses. Tatyana knew that in the morning, no one would call, no one would come without warning, no one would create a scandal on the doorstep. And from this knowledge, her heart was at peace.
She had defended her boundaries, her home, her son. Paying a high price—the loss of family ties. But such is the price of freedom and peace. And she was ready to pay it.
In the city, Natalia continued to tell everyone how a heartless relative had kicked her and her children out into the cold, how she had refused to help, how she had destroyed the family. Tatyana didn’t defend herself. She just lived her life, in her house, with her son. And for the first time in a long time, she felt truly free.