Alina stood by the window, staring at the gray sky packed with rain clouds. Behind her came a soft rustling sound—Igor was sorting through his sister’s things, neatly folding them into an old suitcase. Marina had left an hour earlier, slamming the door so hard the glass in the cabinet rattled.
“Lin, maybe we could still…” Igor started, but his wife spun around sharply.
“No. No ‘maybe.’ Your sister will never set foot in this apartment again! I will never forgive her for that stunt!”
Alina’s voice shook with rage and tears she was barely holding back. Igor lowered his head, unsure what to say. He understood his wife, but Marina was still his sister—his only family left after their parents died.
It all started three weeks earlier.
“Gosha, please, it’s only for a few days!” Marina stood in the doorway with a huge bag and tear-stained eyes. “Anton and I had a fight. I can’t stay there. I need time to think.”
Igor looked at Alina with a guilty expression—she was just coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. Alina exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment.
“Fine. A few days, Marina,” she said evenly. “We’ve got a folding bed in the storage closet.”
“Thank you, sweetheart! I knew you’d understand!” Marina sniffled and dragged her bag into the hallway. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse, I promise!”
But by the second day it was obvious Marina didn’t know how to be a mouse. She got up early, clattering dishes in the kitchen, making breakfast nobody asked for, and constantly hovered underfoot when Alina tried to work from home.
“Linochka, what are you doing?” Marina asked on Thursday, leaning over Alina’s shoulder toward the laptop screen. “A designer? How interesting!”
“Marina, I’m very busy right now,” Alina said patiently, closing the window with her sketches. “I need to focus.”
“Yes-yes, of course, sorry! I’ll just go tidy up the living room!”
Alina sighed. She worked as a freelance graphic designer, and for the past six months she’d had a major client—Dmitry Sokolov, the owner of a chain of coffee shops. They were doing a full rebrand: from the logo to the packaging design. The project was complex but exciting—and very well paid. Dmitry, too, turned out to be a pleasant person; he was easy to work with.
Friday was especially intense. Alina messaged Dmitry all day, approving mockups for the new takeaway cups. They joked, laughed at the failed versions, and hunted for the perfect solution. Their chat had that lightness and mutual understanding that happens when two people care about the same work.
“This version with the coffee leaf is just genius! You’re a magician, Alina,” Dmitry wrote.
“Oh come on—it’s us being a great team! Without your ideas, I’d never have gotten there,” she replied.
“Should we celebrate the success? Have coffee at one of my cafés and talk about next steps?”
“With pleasure! Just after the weekend, okay? I’ve got guests at home right now, not really up for meetings.”
“Deal. Have a great weekend!”
Alina closed her laptop and stretched, rubbing her stiff neck. Marina walked out of the bathroom wrapped in Igor’s robe.
“Linochka, I was thinking… maybe I could stay with you another week?” she smiled guiltily at Alina. “Anton still hasn’t apologized, and I don’t want to be the first to go back. Let him feel what it’s like without me!”
Alina felt pressure building at her temples.
“Marina, we said a few days. I have an important project, I need to concentrate…”
“Please! I really will be quiet! You won’t even notice me!”
Igor came out of the bedroom, having heard the conversation.
“Lin… maybe it’s not a big deal? Just a bit longer?”
Alina looked at her husband, then at his sister, and realized she’d lost.
“One week. Max.”
On Saturday morning, Alina and Igor went to the mall to shop. Marina stayed home, saying she planned to watch TV shows. But as soon as the door closed behind them, curiosity got the better of her.
Marina had always been too curious. Even as a child, she read Igor’s diaries, eavesdropped on his phone calls, rummaged through his personal things. Their parents called it “a lively interest in life,” but in reality Marina simply didn’t know how to respect boundaries.
Alina’s laptop lay on the table. Marina walked past it, paused, glanced back—though no one was home. Then she returned and opened the lid.
The screen lit up—Alina hadn’t logged out of her chat with Dmitry. Marina started reading: first out of idle curiosity, then with growing indignation.
“You’re a magician,” “great team,” “maybe we’ll celebrate, have coffee”… Emojis, jokes, an easy familiarity. Marina scrolled upward—months of messages, daily communication, compliments.
“That’s always how it starts,” she muttered. “First coffee, then dinner, and then… Poor Gosha doesn’t even suspect a thing!”
Marina thought she knew how these stories went. Her friend Sveta messaged “just a colleague” for a year and then divorced her husband. Another acquaintance met a client “to discuss a project,” and now her husband is raising the child alone. Marina couldn’t allow her brother to become the next victim.
She opened a new message and began typing as Alina.
“Dmitry, I’ve been thinking our communication has become too… informal. I’m uncomfortable continuing our collaboration. Please consider our contract terminated. Thank you for understanding.”
Marina reread what she’d written, satisfied. Short, clear, no unnecessary emotion. Now this Dmitry wouldn’t be hitting on her brother’s wife, and the family would be saved. She hit “Send” and shut the laptop.
On Monday, Alina woke to her phone ringing. The screen showed “Dmitry Sokolov.” Surprised, she answered.
“Dmitry, good morning!”
“Alina, sorry for calling so early. I got your message and… honestly, I’m shocked.” His voice sounded confused. “What happened? Did I say something wrong? Did I offend you? If I did, I’m really sorry—I didn’t mean to…”
Alina sat up in bed, fully awake now.
“What message? I didn’t send anything.”
“What do you mean you didn’t? On Saturday evening I got a message saying our communication became too informal and you were terminating the contract. I’ve been racking my brain all weekend trying to understand what I did wrong!”
Alina’s heart dropped. She rushed out of the bedroom, grabbed the laptop, and opened the chat. The last message really was what Dmitry described—a message she hadn’t written.
“Dmitry, that wasn’t me! Someone got into my laptop and… God, it was Marina!”
“Marina? Who’s Marina?”
“My husband’s sister. She’s staying with us. Dmitry, I’m so sorry—this is a misunderstanding! I never thought anything like that, I can’t even—”
A pause hung on the line.
“Alina, listen. I value you a lot as a professional, and I like working with you. But this situation…” He sighed heavily. “I can’t continue collaborating when I have to doubt whether it’s you writing messages or someone else. It’s a matter of trust. And besides, my partners have already started asking why the designer suddenly backed out of the project. They’re suggesting a different specialist.”
“No, Dmitry, please! It won’t happen again, I promise! I’ll change all my passwords, I—”
“I’m sorry, Alina. The decision is made. I’ll transfer payment for the work you’ve already done. I truly regret how it turned out.”
He hung up. Alina stood in the middle of the living room with the phone in her hand, feeling everything inside go cold. Six months of work. Six months. Her best project, her biggest contract, the recommendations she’d counted on… all gone in an instant.
Marina came out of the bathroom, cheerfully humming to herself.
“Good morning, Linochka! I made pancakes—want some?”
Alina turned slowly toward her.
“Was it you who wrote that message to Dmitry?”
Marina froze, then lifted her chin.
“Yeah, it was me. And I did the right thing! Do you think I don’t see what’s going on? ‘You’re a magician,’ ‘let’s have coffee’… I know how that ends! I saved your marriage, by the way!”
“What?!” Alina’s voice shot up into a shout. “You broke into my personal laptop, read my messages, and wrote to my client pretending to be me?! Who are you to—”
“I’m your husband’s sister! And I’m not going to stay silent while you flirt with some guy when Gosha is at work!”
“What flirting?!” Alina felt like she was about to explode. “That was a work chat! He’s my client—we worked on a project for six months! Because of your stupid stunt I lost the contract! Do you even understand what you’ve done?!”
“I was protecting my brother!” Marina raised her voice too. “And if you think it was a stupid stunt, maybe the problem is you. Maybe you’ve got something to hide!”
Alina went pale with fury.
“Get out. Right now. Get out of here.”
“What? How dare you! This is my brother’s apartment!”
“It’s mine and your brother’s apartment, and I said—get out!”
Igor stumbled out of the bedroom, half-asleep.
“What happened? Why are you yelling?”
“Your sister got into my laptop and wrote to my client that I’m terminating the contract!” Alina blurted out. “Because of her, I lost six months of work!”
Igor looked at Marina, confused.
“What did you do?”
“I was protecting you!” Marina pointed at Alina. “She was messaging some man—they were joking, planning to meet, he called her a magician! That’s flirting, in case you didn’t know!”
“Dmitry Sokolov is my client!” Alina fought to keep back angry tears. “Igor knows him—we met him at a presentation a year ago, remember?”
Igor frowned, trying to place the name.
“Sokolov? The café chain owner? Dima—the one who’s over fifty, with a wife and three kids?”
“That’s him,” Alina hissed. “What a lovely ‘flirt’—a married man twenty years older than me, who I was discussing coffee cup designs with!”
Marina blinked, thrown off.
“But… but he wrote compliments…”
“That’s called a professional relationship!” Alina exploded. “Normal human communication! When people work together, they can joke, praise each other, drink coffee, and talk about projects! It doesn’t mean they’re having an affair!”
“Marin, you’re something else,” Igor said slowly. “I know Dima Sokolov—he’s a decent guy, a family man. There wasn’t anything like that. Not even close.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Marina started defending herself, but her voice was less certain now. “I just wanted what was best…”
“You wanted to stick your nose into someone else’s life!” Alina snapped. “You had no right to get into my laptop, read my private messages—and especially not write as me! Because of your ‘wanted what was best,’ I lost the biggest contract of my entire career! Do you understand what that means? Do you understand what you did to my reputation? Dmitry told his partners the designer suddenly quit mid-project! Who will want to work with me after that?!”
Marina backed up toward the wall.
“Well… I didn’t do it on purpose. I really thought—”
“I don’t care what you thought!” Tears ran down Alina’s cheeks, and she couldn’t stop them. “You don’t understand boundaries. You’ve always been like this—poking into things that aren’t your business, reading diaries, eavesdropping on calls! But this crosses every line!”
“Alin, calm down,” Igor tried to cut in.
“No!” She spun on her husband. “No, Igor! I worked on that project for six months! Six months! That was our money, our apartment, our plans! We wanted to go on vacation with that money, remember? Now forget it! And all because your sister decided to play detective!”
“I wasn’t playing!” Marina protested. “I truly thought I was saving your marriage! My friend Sveta started the same way and it ended in divorce!”
“I’m not your friend Sveta!” Alina shouted. “And my marriage is none of your business! How many times do you need it explained that you had no right?!”
A heavy silence fell. Igor stood in the middle of the room, looking from his wife to his sister.
“Marin,” he finally said quietly. “You really… that’s very bad. You got into someone else’s laptop, into private messages. You set Alina up by writing as her. That’s wrong.”
“But I wanted to protect you!” Marina’s eyes filled with tears. “I thought you’d thank me later! That she was cheating and I stopped a disaster!”
“No one was cheating!” Igor raised his voice. “I’ve known Alina ten years—I trust her. And I know Sokolov too. There was no flirting, Marina. None at all. You made it up in your head, didn’t check, and caused a mess!”
“So you’re both against me now?” Marina’s voice trembled. “I’m the enemy to you?”
“You’re not an enemy,” Igor said tiredly. “But you did something incredibly stupid. And you need to understand that.”
“Understand?” Alina let out a bitter laugh. “Igor, she shouldn’t just understand—she should fix it! But how does she fix a lost contract? How does she give me back my reputation? How do I explain to Dmitry that some unhinged relative decided for me who I can work with and who I can’t?”
Marina clenched her fists.
“I’m not unhinged! I cared about my brother!”
“You meddled where you had no business,” Alina cut her off. “And now I’ll have to deal with the fallout from your ‘care.’ Dmitry won’t work with me anymore. He said it himself—it’s about trust. He can’t collaborate when he doesn’t know who is really writing the messages.”
“Well… call him again!” Marina scrambled for a way out. “Explain it was me! That you won’t let it happen again!”
“I already did! He said the decision is final!” Alina covered her face with her hands. “God, how am I supposed to face other clients now? Everyone in this field knows everyone. They’ll start asking: ‘Why did you abandon Sokolov’s project halfway through?’ What do I say? That I’ve got a hysterical sister-in-law running my laptop?”
Igor stepped up and put an arm around Alina’s shoulders.
“Lin, we’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll call Dima and explain—”
“Don’t,” Alina pulled away. “Don’t do anything. It’s done.” She looked at Marina. “Pack your things. Today.”
“But—”
“Today,” Alina repeated in an icy tone. “And never show up here again.”
“Gosha!” Marina looked at her brother pleadingly. “Say something! I didn’t mean it! I thought—”
Igor stayed silent, staring at the floor.
“Gosha!”
“Marin, pack your things,” he said quietly without looking up. “Please.”
“So that’s it?” Marina’s voice hardened. “So your wife matters more than your sister? I protected you, and you’re throwing me out?”
“You didn’t protect me,” Igor looked her in the eyes. “You invaded our life and wrecked things. Alina and I live together—we’re a family. And you have to respect our boundaries.”
“What boundaries? I’m your sister! Blood!”
“And that doesn’t give you the right to rummage through other people’s things and send messages in their name,” Igor snapped. “Marina, I love you. But what you did is too much. Please leave.”
Marina stood there, breathing hard, staring at her brother like she was seeing him for the first time.
“Fine,” she finally said. “Fine. I’ll go to Anton, apologize, make up with him. And you…” She looked at Alina. “You’ll regret this. When she leaves you, Gosha, don’t come crying to me.”
“Get out,” Alina said softly.
Marina turned and went into the living room. Alina sank onto the couch, hugging herself. Igor sat down beside her, not knowing what to say.
Five minutes later, Marina came out with her bag. She walked to the door in silence, put on her jacket, and turned back one last time.
“I still think I did the right thing,” she said. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Goodbye, Marina,” Alina replied evenly.
The door closed.
Now, an hour after she left, they sat in the kitchen, each with a cup of cold tea. Igor broke the silence first.
“Lin, forgive her. She’s an idiot, but she didn’t mean harm.”
“You know what’s the scariest part?” Alina looked at her husband. “She still believes she did the right thing. She didn’t even understand what she’s done. To her, it’s still a heroic act—saving her brother from a treacherous wife.”
“She’ll understand. With time.”
“Maybe. But I don’t want to wait for that time.” Alina shook her head. “Igor, I get that she’s your sister. But after this… your sister will never set foot in this apartment again. I will never forgive her for that stunt. She destroyed six months of my work, damaged my reputation—and still thinks she did the right thing.”
Igor nodded and went to pack up the rest of his sister’s things that were still in the apartment.