Olga slowly stirred her morning coffee, enjoying the silence. For the first time in three years of marriage, she could eat breakfast without Dima’s usual grumbling about traffic or his comments about her “way too strong” coffee. A week without her husband had passed in a blink—she’d rewatched her favorite films, reread books she loved, and caught up with friends.
The jingle of keys in the lock made her start. Dima walked in, dragging a suitcase behind him and wearing a kind of tension she could almost touch.
“Hey,” he said, dropping the bag by the door and going straight to the fridge without kissing her.
“How was the trip? How’s your mom?” Olga tried to hug him, but Dima pulled away.
“Fine. Listen—we need to talk.”
Something in his tone put Olga on guard. In four years together she’d learned to read his intonations, and this one didn’t promise anything good.
“About what?” she asked, setting her cup aside.
“Mom’s struggling. Alyonka’s gotten out of control—rent is expensive, she can’t find a real job. Mom’s asking… I mean, we decided it would be best if Alyona moved in with us. Just temporarily.”
Olga blinked, processing.
“Moved in… like, to visit?”
“Well, she’d need to be registered here. For work, for documents. You get it.”
“Registered? In our apartment?” Olga’s voice lifted.
“Olya, why are you going straight into combat mode? She’s my sister! Family helps family.”
Olga stood and paced the kitchen. The apartment had belonged to her grandmother—Olga had been the only heir. Dima knew that perfectly well, just as he knew that this apartment was the reason they could marry without renting some cramped room.
“Dima, I understand she’s your sister, but registration is a serious thing. Why does she have to register? Maybe she can just stay for a while?”
“Olya, have you become greedy? The place is big, there’s room for everyone. Mom was so upset when I told her we’d ‘think about it.’ She’s been crying all week.”
Olga heard the reproach in his voice—she’d been noticing it more and more lately. That was how Dima talked when he wanted to get his way by making her feel guilty.
“And why did you tell her we’d think about it? Why didn’t you say you’d ask me? This is my apartment, Dima.”
“Ours!” he snapped. “We’re husband and wife! Or does that mean nothing to you?”
Olga felt something tighten inside. Here it was—the start of it. Pressure. Accusations. The attempt to paint her as selfish.
“Of course it means something. But decisions about registration should be made together.”
“But I’m talking to you right now!” Dima threw up his hands. “What is there to think about? Someone’s in trouble and you’re counting square meters.”
The phone rang, cutting off the argument that was about to explode. The screen read: Mother-in-law. Olga looked at Dima; he nodded, as if to say, pick up.
“Hello, Vera Petrovna.”
“Olechka, dear!” her mother-in-law’s voice sounded overly sweet, stretched tight. “Dima already told you about our situation, didn’t he?”
“He did, but we haven’t—”
“I’m counting on you so much, sweetheart! You understand—a mother’s heart breaks when her children suffer. Alyonochka is falling apart, and you have such a spacious apartment. You’ll help, won’t you? I know you’re kind.”
Olga gripped the phone harder. Vera Petrovna was a master of emotional blackmail.
“Vera Petrovna, you see… registration is a very serious matter. We need to think it through—”
“Think it through?” The voice turned colder. “Olechka, I’m not asking you to give away the apartment. Just to help the girl get back on her feet. Or is your husband’s family made up of strangers to you?”
Dima stood nearby, listening. Olga saw the silent accusation in his eyes: Now you’re upsetting my mother.
“Of course you’re not strangers, but—”
“Then what are we discussing?” her mother-in-law cut in. “Alyona isn’t moving in forever! A year, a year and a half—two years at most. She’ll find a good job and move out. And you’ll know you helped the family when things were hard.”
After Olga ended the call, the apartment filled with heavy silence. Dima washed dishes, clanging plates on purpose.
“So what did you decide?” he asked without turning around.
“Dima, let’s be honest. Why does it have to be registration? Can’t Alyona just live here for a while?”
“How is she supposed to find a job without registration? How is she supposed to get certificates and paperwork? Do you even understand how hard it is right now without it?”
His logic wasn’t completely wrong, but something still bothered Olga. Alyona had never been particularly hardworking. At twenty-eight, she’d switched jobs dozens of times, always finding a reason to quit.
“And if she doesn’t find a job? Or she finds one and still doesn’t move out? What then?”
Dima whipped around.
“What are you talking about? She’s my sister, not some drunk off the street!”
“That’s not what I mean. It’s just… removing someone once they’re registered is really difficult. Especially a relative.”
“Oh, that’s what this is!” Dima tossed the sponge into the sink. “You’re afraid we’ll take your precious apartment away! That’s your real problem!”
“That’s not true!”
“It is. From the start of our marriage you’ve been clinging to those square meters—‘my apartment, my apartment!’ So what am I then, to you? A stranger?”
Olga felt her hands begin to tremble. Dima had hit the sore spot. The apartment truly was her anchor—the one thing that gave her a sense of safety.
“Dima, I’m not against helping Alyona. But registration gives housing rights. What if she decides to claim a share? Or sell it to someone?”
“You’re being paranoid,” Dima waved his hand. “Listen, I thought I had a normal wife who supports family. Turns out I married some kind of… cheapskate.”
The word stung. Olga had always considered herself generous—she covered most of their expenses, bought expensive gifts, never spared money on their trips.
“I’m not a cheapskate. I’m careful.”
“Same thing,” he muttered and walked out.
That night at dinner, the silence became unbearable. Dima scrolled through his phone demonstratively, sighing heavily as if to make sure she noticed.
“Mom called again,” he finally said. “She asked when Alyona can come. I didn’t know what to tell her.”
“Dima, let’s talk properly—no shouting.”
“What is there to talk about? You’ve already decided. My family means nothing to you.”
“Stop it. I’m trying to understand the risks. Maybe there are other options—temporary registration, for example?”
“Temporary doesn’t work everywhere—you know that,” Dima put his phone down. “Olya, how long is this going to go on? It’s only for a while! Alyona will find a job, rent a place, and move out. What, you don’t trust me at all?”
His voice softened, and Olga felt her resistance weaken. Maybe she really was being too suspicious. Maybe she should trust her husband.
For the next three days, the apartment felt like a cold war zone. Dima answered in one-word replies, spoke to someone on the phone in a whisper, and whenever Olga entered a room he would abruptly end the call.
Her mother-in-law called every day, each time with new pressure.
“Olechka, Alyonochka already packed her things. She’s counting on your understanding!”
Or:
“Sweetheart, I tell everyone what a wonderful daughter-in-law I have. You wouldn’t disappoint an old woman, would you?”
The constant pressure made Olga’s head spin. She felt cornered, but her intuition insisted something wasn’t right.
On Thursday she couldn’t take it anymore and called her friend Nastya.
“Nastya, can I come by? I’m completely tangled up.”
“Of course. Come over.”
Over tea, Olga spilled everything. Nastya listened in silence, frowning deeper and deeper.
“Olya… have you talked to a lawyer?” she finally asked.
“Why would I? It’s a family matter.”
“That’s exactly why you should. Remember Lena Mikhailova from our class? She’s a real estate lawyer now. Go see her—find out all the pitfalls.”
“Oh come on, Nastya. I’m not going to sue my husband…”
“Not sue—protect yourself! Olya, do you even realize a registered person can go to court and demand the right to live there? Even if they don’t own it?”
The words hit Olga like a bucket of ice water. The next day she booked a consultation.
Lena Mikhailova—her former classmate, now a sharp, no-nonsense professional—listened and shook her head.
“Olya, under no circumstances should you agree to permanent registration for your husband’s relatives.”
“Why?”
“First, a registered person gains the right to use the property. Second, removing them against their will is nearly impossible—especially if they can prove it’s their only residence. Third, if you divorce, registered relatives can try to claim an interest in the apartment.”
“But it’s mine—an inheritance.”
“That helps. But if your sister-in-law registers and lives there for years, she could argue in court that she contributed—paid for renovations, covered utilities—and demand a share. Courts can be unpredictable.”
“What about temporary registration?”
“Better, but there are still risks. And the main question is—why do they insist on registration? For work these days, temporary registration is usually enough. And it’s easy to arrange for a month or two.”
When Olga got home, she caught Dima on the phone.
“Yes, Mom, I’m trying to convince her… Yes, I know Alyona needs it urgently… No, she’s resisting…”
He noticed Olga and quickly ended the call.
“Mom’s worried,” he muttered. “Alyona’s landlady gave her notice. She has to be out by the end of the month.”
“Why the sudden rush?” Olga sat across from him. “Dima, be honest. Did Alyona do something?”
“What do you mean, ‘do something’? The owner is selling.”
“Then why can’t she rent somewhere else? Why does she have to register with us?”
Dima hesitated, then let out a heavy sigh.
“Fine. I’ll tell you the truth. She has problems with loans. Banks can freeze accounts if they find her address. If she registers here, it buys her time to deal with the debts.”
Olga felt the floor drop out from under her.
“So you want to register a debtor in our home? Dima, do you understand what that means? Bailiffs could come to us. They could put a hold on the apartment!”
“Don’t exaggerate! Alyona will sort out the debts and—”
“And then what—move out?” Olga stood up. “Dima, tomorrow I’m filing paperwork for temporary registration for Alyona. Two months. That’s enough time to find a job and a place. But I will not agree to permanent registration. Final answer.”
“Olya, you don’t understand…”
“No, I understand perfectly. This is an attempt to solve someone else’s problems at my expense.”
Dima stared at her as if he’d never seen her like that before. For the first time in years, Olga’s voice was firm—unmovable.
That night they didn’t speak. Dima lay turned toward the wall, and Olga stared at the ceiling, running through every possible outcome. In the morning, Dima left for work without breakfast and without a word.
An hour later, her mother-in-law called again—this time without the sugary tone.
“Olya, Dima told me your decision. I’m honestly shocked.”
“Vera Petrovna, I’m offering temporary registration—”
“Temporary won’t work!” her mother-in-law cut in sharply. “Alyonochka needs to resolve banking issues, restore documents. For that she needs permanent registration!”
There it was. The truth finally surfaced.
“And why didn’t you say that from the start?” Olga asked calmly.
“What difference does it make? You’re family. Or was I wrong about you?”
“You weren’t wrong. But I’m not registering someone with debts in my home. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, so that’s how it is!” Her mother-in-law didn’t even hide her anger. “Fine. Now I know exactly what you’re worth. I’ll be sure to tell Dima what kind of wife he has.”
After the call, Olga sat in the kitchen for a long time, drinking coffee gone cold. Strangely, for the first time in months she felt relief. At last everything was clear.
That evening Dima returned dark as a storm cloud.
“Mom’s crying,” he threw out without greeting her. “Alyona’s hysterical. Everyone thinks you’re selfish.”
“Dima, sit down. We need a serious talk.”
“What is there to talk about? You already decided.”
“Sit down, please.”
Something in her tone made him stop.
“Dima, tell me honestly—did you know about Alyona’s debts?”
He was silent, then nodded.
“And you knew she needed registration to hide from creditors?”
“Not hide—buy time…”
“It’s the same thing,” Olga said, looking him in the eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth right away?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t agree.”
“So you decided to deceive me? To pressure me until I gave in—and then present me with a done deal?”
Dima lowered his head.
“I thought I’d explain later… once Alyona was already here…”
“So you were planning to lie to me,” Olga said, surprised by how calm she felt. “And what happens when the bailiffs come? When they seize property? Did you think about that?”
“They won’t come…”
“They will,” Olga said evenly. “They always do. And then what? You’ll say you didn’t know?”
Silence fell. Dima stared at the floor.
“You know what hurts the most?” Olga continued. “Not that you wanted to help your sister. But that you were willing to gamble our family on her mess—without even asking me.”
“I didn’t want to gamble—”
“You did. You were ready to put me, my apartment, and our future at risk. And then you tried to make me the guilty one.”
Dima raised his head. In his eyes Olga saw something new, as if he were truly seeing her for the first time.
“Olya… I didn’t realize it was that serious.”
“You should have. We’re a family, remember? Family means decisions are made together—honestly, openly.”
He was quiet for a long time, then said softly:
“I’m sorry.”
“For what, exactly?”
“For trying to deceive you. For letting Mom pressure you. For… not thinking about the consequences.”
Something inside Olga finally loosened.
“Dima, I’m not against helping Alyona. But not at that price. She needs to deal with her debts herself. If you want, we can help with some money—whatever we can afford.”
Dima nodded.
“And what do we tell Mom?”
“The truth. That we’re a family—and family decisions are made together.”
The next day Dima called his mother himself and explained. Vera Petrovna caused a scene, accused Olga of every sin imaginable, but Dima unexpectedly defended his wife.
“Mom, enough. Olga’s right. This is our home, and we decide who gets registered here.”
Alyona eventually found a way to handle her creditors: she got a job and negotiated a restructuring plan. It turned out you can live without dragging someone else into your mess—even without a permanent registration.
And for the first time, Olga felt like a real wife—not someone who had to please everyone, but an equal partner in her marriage.