The phone started rattling at half past six. Vera opened one eye, saw an unfamiliar number, and declined the call. Thirty seconds later, it rang again. Then again. On the fourth try, she picked up and heard the bright, shrill voice of Oksana — her mother’s cousin, whom Vera had seen maybe three times in her entire life.
“Verunchik, are you still asleep? Come on, get up already — we’re downstairs and we’re hungry! Same address on Kuibyshev, right?”
Vera sat up in bed. Her head felt stuffed with cotton. Outside, it was a gray Saturday morning, rain tapping against the windowsill.
“What address, Oksana? What are you even talking about?”
“What do you mean, what am I talking about? I texted you yesterday! Didn’t you read it? We’ve got important business in the city, so we decided to stop by and stay for a couple of nights. Me, Vovka, and the boys. Don’t worry, we won’t take up much space — we’re very modest!”
Four people. In her three-bedroom apartment. No warning. At seven in the morning on a Saturday.
There had been no messages, of course. Oksana had simply lied so she wouldn’t hear a refusal in advance.
“Oksana, wait, I’m not ready for guests, I need to—”
“Oh, come on! What is there to get ready for? We’ll handle everything ourselves, don’t stress. Vovka brought some sausage, we’ll buy bread. Just open the door, we’re almost there. All right, kisses!”
The line went dead. Vera threw the phone onto the pillow and covered her face with her hands.
This was already the third time in a year and a half. In the fall, Oksana and Vladimir had devoured everything in the fridge and helped themselves to the cognac Vera had been saving for New Year’s. In March, they came with their college-aged son, who smoked on the balcony and blasted TV shows all night long. Before leaving, Vladimir had asked to borrow money for gas. Naturally, he never paid it back.
And now they were here again. Four of them. Completely convinced she was obligated to open the door because they were family.
Vera got up, poured herself a glass of tap water, and drained it in one swallow. She remembered overhearing Oksana on the phone during the last visit, saying to someone, “It’s fine, we’re staying at my cousin’s place for free, so why worry?” There had been so much everyday shamelessness packed into that for free that Vera had nearly thrown them out in the middle of the night.
But she had stayed quiet. As always.
The phone buzzed again. We’re at the light on Malyshev, be there in a sec!
Vera looked at the screen, then at the door, then back at the screen. And she made a decision.
She switched her phone to silent, tossed it onto the bed, climbed back under the blanket, and closed her eyes. Her heart was pounding like she was about to jump out of a plane. But the fear felt strangely good. Liberating.
About ten minutes later, the intercom rang. Vera didn’t move. Then it rang again. Then they started pounding on the front door — persistent, demanding knocks, with thirty-second pauses in between. She could hear them talking outside. Vladimir’s voice. Oksana’s annoyed muttering. The boys snickering.
“She’s not asleep! She’s probably listening to music with headphones on!”
“All the windows are shut. Maybe she really is sleeping?”
“Who sleeps this long on a Saturday? Call her again.”
Vera lay there listening. She was almost amused.
They fussed outside her door for about forty minutes. Then it went quiet. Vera got up, made coffee, and sat by the window. Down below stood their dark blue car. Oksana was nervously smoking near the entrance while Vladimir showed something on his phone to the boys.
Her phone on the bed was exploding with calls. Twenty-three missed calls.
Vera finished her coffee. Waited another half hour. Then she called Oksana back. Oksana answered on the very first ring.
“Vera! Where are you?! We’ve been standing outside your door for an hour! Is your phone broken or what?!”
Vera spoke slowly, with sleepy weariness in her voice, as if she had just woken up.
“Oksana, I can barely hear you. Where are you right now?”
“Where am I? At your building! Are you deaf now or what? We keep calling and calling, and nobody opens!”
“At my building? Which building?”
“Yours! On Kuibyshev! Vera, what is wrong with you?!”
Vera let a pause stretch out — long enough for Oksana to grow even more nervous.
“Oksana, I don’t understand. I’m not on Kuibyshev. I’m not even in town.”
“What do you mean, not in town?! You live here!”
“I used to. I sold the apartment a week ago and left. I’m in Nizhny Novgorod now.”
Silence. Vera could hear Oksana breathing sharply into the phone.
“What do you mean you sold it?! What do you mean you left?! Vera, are you joking?”
“I’m not joking. I met someone there. Everything happened very fast. We decided not to drag things out, so I sold the apartment, packed up, and moved. Sorry, I thought you knew.”
Vera surprised herself with how easily the lie came out. She spoke calmly, without drama, and that made it sound completely true.
“But Vera, you couldn’t just… we were counting on this! Our sons got into your university! We thought they could stay with you at first, until we found housing!”
There it was.
That was why they had come.
Not for a couple of nights. For good.
Two students were supposed to move into her apartment, eat her food, ruin her furniture, and consider it perfectly normal.
Vera felt a cold triumph spread through her.
“I’m sorry, Oksana. But I have a different life now. I can’t help you.”
“But Vera, what are we supposed to do? We only agreed to let them apply there because of this!”
“Find a rental. That’s what everyone else does.”
“But it’s expensive! We didn’t plan for this!”
“Then you’ll have to start planning. I really have to go. Good luck.”
She hung up and exhaled. Her hands were shaking.
Oksana’s car pulled away about five minutes later. Vera sat down on the couch and closed her eyes. Then the phone rang again. Her brother Maksim. She understood at once — he must have been the one who gave Oksana her contact information at some point.
“Vera, what on earth did you tell Oksana about Nizhny? She’s crying, saying you moved away and abandoned them!”
“Maksim, do you realize what they were planning? They wanted to dump their sons on me for the whole year. Without even asking. They didn’t ask me once.”
“Well, you could’ve explained it like a normal person…”
“I did explain! They stayed with me twice, and both times they behaved like they were in a hotel! Maksim, to them I’m not a person, do you understand? I’m a free place to stay. And you gave them my address without even asking me.”
Maksim was silent.
“All right,” he said at last. “But why lie?”
“Because otherwise they’ll keep calling every week, whining and guilt-tripping me. I don’t need that. I’m tired of everyone acting like I owe them something. I don’t owe anyone anything.”
A pause.
“Got it,” Maksim said finally. “Listen, then I’ll call Oksana and tell her you’re not in Nizhny. You’re in Saint Petersburg. Met some rich guy there, he set you up with a business, and now you’re on a whole different level. Just so they don’t even think about bothering you again.”
Vera laughed. For the first time that morning — genuinely.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely. I’m tired of Oksana too. Last year she asked me for a loan and never paid it back. Let her think you’re far away and unreachable.”
“Thanks, Maksim.”
“This is partly my fault. I won’t be giving your contact information to anyone ever again.”
A week passed. Vera returned to her normal life — work, reports, evening walks. Her apartment was quiet. No one rang the bell. No one demanded breakfast. No one left dirty plates on the table.
On Friday, she ran into Lyudmila, the neighbor across the landing who always seemed to know every piece of gossip in the building.
“Vera, I heard you’re moving to Saint Petersburg! Is that true?”
Vera smiled innocently.
“Lyudmila, where do people come up with these stories?”
“A friend told me — her friend knows one of your relatives. They say you’ve started a whole new life there and you’re living in luxury now!”
“Well, imagine that. And here I was not even aware my life had become so interesting.”
Lyudmila leaned in closer.
“So is it true or not?”
Vera shrugged. Let them think whatever they wanted. The important thing was that Oksana and her shameless family would never appear on her doorstep again.
“Lyudmila, I don’t like discussing personal matters. I live how I live.”
“I understand,” Lyudmila said. “Good for you, standing up for yourself. Because relatives like that — once they climb onto your shoulders, you’ll never shake them off.”
Vera went back upstairs, opened her door, and stepped into the hallway. She took off her shoes, set down her bag, then went into the kitchen and opened the window. The air outside smelled of freshness and gasoline.
Ordinary life. Her life. Without pushy guests, without someone else’s sons sleeping on her couch, without leftovers disappearing from the fridge and promises never kept.
She took out the coffee jar, scooped some into the cezve, set it on the stove, and sat by the window. She remembered that Saturday morning — standing there, listening to them ring the bell. Afraid she would give in, open up, let them in. Lying under the blanket with her heart pounding wildly and thinking, I don’t owe anyone anything.
And she hadn’t opened the door.
The coffee boiled. Vera poured it into a cup and added sugar. Her phone lay on the table. No missed calls from Oksana. No messages begging for help. Silence. Long-awaited silence.
Somewhere out there, Oksana was probably telling people that her relative had suddenly become rich and moved to Saint Petersburg. Maybe she had even added details about a luxury apartment and an extravagant new life. And underneath all those invented details was a single bitter truth — the free ride was over. There was no more place to stay for nothing.
And Vera sat in her three-bedroom apartment on Kuibyshev Street, drinking coffee and smiling. Because sometimes the only way to protect your life is to disappear from someone else’s.
She took a sip. Hot, strong, slightly bitter. Outside, drizzle fell, cars hummed past, and someone was arguing near the entrance. An ordinary evening in an ordinary city.
Vera looked at her phone, then at the door. Heavy, solid, fitted with the new lock she had installed after Oksana’s second visit. Back then she had told herself it was for safety. But in truth, even then she had known — sooner or later, she would have to refuse them entry.
And she had.
Now she could finally live in peace. Without guilt. Without the fear that at any moment someone would pound on the door and demand to be let in, fed, and given a place to sleep. Without feeling as though her life was some public waiting room for anyone too cheap to pay for a hotel.
Vera finished her coffee and set the cup in the sink. Then she went into the living room, lay down on the couch, and pulled a blanket over herself. She turned on a series she had been wanting to watch for a long time. Outside, evening was settling in. Inside, the apartment was warm and quiet.
No one knocked at the door. No one demanded her attention. No one acted as though she owed them.
And it was the best thing that had happened to her in the last year and a half.