— Philip, tell me, please… has our refrigerator broken, or have the groceries started evaporating on their own?
Anna stood in front of the open fridge, the artificial cold spilling into the kitchen. Empty spaces gaped on the shelves.
Her husband, who had been absorbed in a heating-system diagram on his tablet, looked up and gave a heavy sigh. His eyes instantly became guilty, like a schoolboy caught smoking.
— Anya, well… you know.
— Your sister came again? — Anna’s voice was calm, even soft, but beneath that softness was the fatigue of metal about to crack. — Yesterday I bought half a kilo of Parmesan for risotto. And trout I was going to bake for dinner. Where is it?
— Lika stopped by for a little while, — Philip muttered, putting the tablet aside. — She said she was hungry. Honestly, I was in the shower. When I came out, she was already drinking tea. What was I supposed to do, pull food out of her mouth?
— Food? Philip, she took the whole fish? Raw?
— Well, she said she’d cook it at home… Anya, I’ll buy everything again. I’ll get dressed right now and go to the store. I’ll buy the cheese, the fish, whatever else is missing.
Anna closed the refrigerator. She looked at her husband — a large, dependable man who, at work, managed complex boilers, monitored steam pressure and temperature, things that determined whether an entire district had heat. A boiler operator was a responsible profession, one that required precision and discipline. But in front of his younger sister and his mother, he turned into a spineless substance incapable of holding any pressure at all.
— It’s not about the money, Philip, — Anna said quietly. — You understand that, don’t you? It’s about respect. This is our home. Our food.
— I understand, kitten. I’ll talk to her. Again. I promise.
There was sincere hope for understanding in his eyes. Anna was a sculptor and taught clay modeling. Her work had taught her that clay only yielded in warm hands, and rushing led to cracks during firing. She was used to waiting, smoothing out roughness, giving shape to something shapeless. It seemed that with her husband’s relatives, she had to work the same way — gently, but persistently.
— Go to the store, — she sighed.
The story had been dragging on for almost two years, ever since Anna and Philip had moved in together. At first, Angelika, whom the family called Lika, behaved decently. She came over, politely drank tea, complimented the cookies. But little by little, the boundaries began to blur. First she started taking apples from the fruit bowl without asking. Then she began opening the fridge in search of yogurts.
Lika was thin and wiry, with sharp elbows and eyes that were always darting around. It was astonishing how so much food fit into her. But the problem was not her appetite. Lika had money. She worked as an administrator, earned decently, and their mother, Galina Petrovna, always gave her “poor little girl” extra spending money. This was not need. It was some kind of pathological greed mixed with a desire to mark territory.
Her brother’s refrigerator was, to her, just another supermarket shelf where everything was free.
A few days after the trout disappeared, Anna came home early. Her evening ceramics class had been canceled, and she was looking forward to a quiet evening with a book. But in the hallway stood a pair of unfamiliar ankle boots, and from the kitchen came her mother-in-law’s voice.
— Oh, come on, — Galina Petrovna was saying, and a spoon clinked against porcelain. — Your Anna just isn’t used to a big family. She grew up as an only child, so now she’s greedy. Selfish.
Anna froze without taking off her coat. Philip was home; his low voice mumbled something in response, but she could not make out the words.
— Mom, what does selfishness have to do with it? — her husband’s voice finally broke through, louder now. — Lika comes over and clears everything out. It’s just ugly.
— Oh, Philip, don’t make me laugh! — her mother-in-law chuckled. — What is there to clear out? A piece of sausage? You begrudge your own sister that? I remember my mother-in-law, your grandmother, may she rest in peace. Now that woman was a real dragon! I was afraid to get up from the table one extra time. A village woman, strict as stone, always correcting me: “You’re sitting wrong, you’re eating too much.” Back then I was furious, young and stupid. But now I understand — there was order. But I’m not like that! I come to you with all my heart. And so does Lika. She’s drawn to her brother. But your Anna immediately starts pouting.
Anna walked into the kitchen.
— Good evening, Galina Petrovna.
Her mother-in-law flinched, but immediately stretched a sugary smile across her face.
— Oh, Anechka! We’re just having tea. Philip bought pastries, sit down.
Galina Petrovna was a heavyset, domineering woman who tried hard to appear “modern and democratic.” She considered herself an ideal mother-in-law simply because she did not live in the young couple’s apartment.
— I heard the end of the conversation, — Anna said, hanging her coat over the back of a chair and sitting down opposite her. — Galina Petrovna, I’m not against guests. But Lika acts as if our home is a twenty-four-hour buffet.
Her mother-in-law sighed.
— There we go again! Anechka, dear, you can’t react like this to ordinary everyday things. Lika is your husband’s sister. They have a special bond. So she ate at your place, what of it? Did you lose something? That’s family. That’s being close. That’s how she shows trust! If she sat here like a formal guest with her hands on her knees, that would be cold and official. But this — this is intimacy!
— Trust is when you ask before taking something, — Anna replied calmly. — When someone silently takes groceries bought for the week, that’s called insolence.
Galina Petrovna pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing. At that moment, she reminded Anna strongly of the very “village grandmother” she had just been talking about, only with a layer of city cunning added on top. To hide her irritation, her mother-in-law stood up.
— Oh, my throat has gone dry from all this arguing. I need some water…
She walked over to the refrigerator and opened it without asking. Anna said nothing, simply watched. Galina Petrovna scanned the shelves, gave a small sniff — apparently the selection was not impressive enough, since there were no delicacies in sight — and took out a bottle of mineral water.
— It’s rather empty in here, — she remarked, pouring water into a glass. — I suppose you keep Philip on a diet? A man needs meat.
— Philip eats very well, — Anna said, feeling her patience slowly turn into cold disappointment. These people did not hear her. They did not want to hear her.
At that moment, the front door slammed.
— Hey, people! Time to upgrade this dump! — Lika’s bright, shameless voice rang out from the hallway.
Her sister-in-law burst into the kitchen, surrounded by the sharp scent of perfume. She wore a fashionable jacket and huge hoop earrings. Her face shone with self-satisfaction.
— Oh, Mom’s here too! Perfect! Phil, hey! — She kissed her brother on the cheek, ignored Anna’s greeting, and went straight to the refrigerator.
The door opened again. Anna froze. Philip tensed, throwing a quick glance at his wife.
Lika, whistling some tune, rummaged around on a shelf, pulled out a package of farm cottage cheese Anna had specially ordered for syrniki, tore off the foil, grabbed a spoon from the table, and scooped out a huge bite.
— Mmm, nice cottage cheese, — she mumbled with her mouth full. — Fatty. Not like that plastic stuff from the supermarket.
Anna exhaled slowly.
— Lika, could you have asked? I was going to make syrniki tomorrow morning.
Her sister-in-law froze with the spoon near her mouth. Her eyes widened, then narrowed into a contemptuous smirk.
— What? Are you serious right now? You’re freaking out over cottage cheese?
— I’m freaking out over your manners, — Anna said clearly.
Galina Petrovna tried to intervene and smooth things over, but it came out clumsy:
— Likusya, well, really, you could have asked… Anechka gets upset.
— Why is she always so suffocating? — Lika shrieked. — “Could you ask, this is mine, this is ours.” Phil, say something! What am I, a stranger here? I came to my own brother’s place, ate some cottage cheese, and she makes a stink as if I’m eating black caviar by the bucket! Your wife is toxic, seriously!
— Lika, watch your mouth, — Philip said dully, but he did not get up from his chair.
— Screw all of you! — Lika theatrically threw the open package of cottage cheese into the trash. White clumps splattered across the inside of the bin and onto the floor. — Choke on your precious cottage cheese! Miser!
She turned around, stomped out of the kitchen, and a second later the front door slammed.
Galina Petrovna looked at the trash bin, then at Anna’s stone-still face. She felt awkward. Not ashamed of her daughter, no — ashamed of the situation, because she herself now looked foolish.
— Well, there… you pushed the poor girl too far, — she muttered, though without her earlier force.
Galina Petrovna began rummaging in her purse. After a long rustle, she finally pulled out five hundred rubles.
— Here, — she said, placing the money on the table in front of Anna. — Buy yourself new cottage cheese. And some sedatives. You can’t be this nervous, Anya. Family is what matters most, and you start scandals over food.
It looked like a payoff. Like a slap in the face. “Shut up and endure it. Here’s compensation for the inconvenience.”
Anna looked at the bill, and something inside her froze completely.
— Thank you, Galina Petrovna, — she said in a voice stripped of emotion. — You are very generous.
Her mother-in-law, sensing that the incident had supposedly been settled, hurried away, muttering something about blood pressure and ungrateful young people.
— A mirror, Anya. A simple mirror.
Marina, Anna’s friend, worked restoring antique tapestries. Her workshop smelled of dust, old threads, and lavender. She sat on a tall stool, carefully sorting silk fibers, listening attentively to the story.
Anna stood by the window, looking out at the gray city. Inside her, the insult of that banknote still burned — left on the table like charity.
— What do you mean? — she asked.
— I mean you’re trying to explain rules to people who are playing a completely different game, — Marina said. She put down her tweezers and turned Anna toward the large antique mirror in the corner of the workshop. — Look. What do you see?
— Myself.
— You see a sculptor, an intelligent woman trying to reach rude people with words. But they see a doormat. Sorry for the slang. Your sister-in-law doesn’t understand words. She only understands actions. You have to become her mirror. Reflect her behavior so precisely that it scares her.
Anna looked at her reflection for a long time. A hard shine appeared in eyes that were usually warm and attentive.
— To act like a mirror…
— Exactly. Don’t argue, don’t explain. Just do what they do. Show them their own faces, only performed by you. And believe me, they will not like it.
The plan formed quickly, but it required endurance. For a week, Anna behaved quietly and politely. She cooked dinners, did not mention money or cottage cheese.
One evening, when she returned from work, she found Lika in the living room. Her sister-in-law was lounging on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, chatting with Philip. On the coffee table in front of her stood a tray: a bowl of grapes, several jars of yogurt, slices of cheese. All of it, of course, from Anna’s refrigerator.
— Oh, Anka’s home, — Lika tossed out carelessly, popping a grape into her mouth. — Phil, your Wi-Fi is acting stupid.
Anna said nothing. She went into the kitchen and began making dinner. Lika came in several times, opening the fridge out of habit, taking juice, then a piece of sausage straight from the cutting board. Anna remained silent. She shaped cutlets, her movements precise and measured. Not a trace of irritation.
Seeing this obedience, Lika bloomed. She decided that her mother’s “educational talk” and that banknote thrown onto the table had worked. The daughter-in-law knew her place.
— Listen, — Lika said, still chewing cheese. — I was thinking… I’m having this sort of unofficial engagement thing on Sunday. Vitya proposed to me, can you imagine? Anyway, we’ll gather at my place. Mom will be there, Vitya, you two should come. We’ll sit, celebrate. I’ll set the table.
— Congratulations, — Anna said evenly. — We’ll come. We’ll definitely come.
Philip looked at his wife in surprise but said nothing. He was glad that the “women’s drama,” as he privately called it, had ended peacefully.
Sunday. Lika’s apartment was expensive, but tasteless. Lots of gold, velvet, and glossy surfaces. Apparently, her own money and her parents’ money went into creating the illusion of a luxurious life. Galina Petrovna was bustling around the open-plan kitchen and living room, helping her daughter. At the table sat Viktor, Lika’s fiancé — a modest, pleasant man who worked as a surveying engineer. He looked slightly lost in this kingdom of ambition.
The table was lavishly set. Salads, sliced meats, hot dishes. Lika clearly wanted to impress.
— Well, dear guests, sit down! — she commanded. — Vitya, open the wine.
Anna sat beside her husband. She was elegantly dressed and carried herself with dignity. The conversation drifted lazily: weather, work, gas prices.
And then Anna stood up.
Silently, she walked over to Lika’s enormous two-door refrigerator. She opened it. The fridge light illuminated her calm face. Inside it was packed full: expensive cheeses, caviar, fruit, desserts that had not been placed on the table.
Silence fell over the room. Lika froze with a fork in her hand. Galina Petrovna, who had been serving salad, stopped moving.
Anna slowly chose a large bunch of perfect grapes — grapes that had not been put out for the guests. Then she took a package of luxury chocolate. She closed the refrigerator door with her hip.
She went to the sink, rinsed the grapes. All of it happened in absolute silence. Viktor watched with interest, thinking this was perhaps some kind of family tradition, or that she was helping the hostess.
Anna returned to the table, placed the grapes in front of herself, broke off some chocolate, and began eating.
— Anya, what are you doing? — Lika’s voice trembled. Not from fear, but from amazement. — There’s fruit on the table.
— I wanted grapes, — Anna answered simply, looking her straight in the eye. — These looked better.
Philip tensed, realizing what was happening. He lowered his eyes to his plate, hiding a smile.
Ten minutes passed. Conversation resumed, but tension hung in the air like static electricity before a storm. Anna stood up again. Again she went to the fridge. This time she took out a jar of pâté and some crackers.
— Anya! — Lika no longer hid her irritation. — Can you sit down and eat what you were given? Why are you rummaging around?
— I’m just hungry, — Anna smiled, opening the pâté. — You have so many tasty things in there. Don’t be greedy. We’re family, after all.
Galina Petrovna turned red. She heard her own intonation. The words “we’re family” landed like a slap.
Another fifteen minutes later, Anna wandered into the kitchen for the third time as if by accident. She opened the freezer and thoughtfully studied its contents.
— Ice cream… Mmm, pistachio. Lika, you have excellent taste.
She took out a tub of ice cream and began looking for a spoon in the kitchen drawers, opening them one after another, making the cutlery clatter loudly.
— HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?! — Lika jumped up from the chair. — STEP AWAY FROM THE FRIDGE RIGHT NOW! ARE YOU INSANE? THAT’S MY FOOD!
Viktor recoiled in alarm. He had never seen his fiancée like this. Her face twisted with rage, her mouth distorted.
— STOP RUMMAGING! — Lika screamed, her voice rising into a shriek. — HAVE YOU COMPLETELY CROSSED THE LINE? WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION?
— Lika, calm down, — her mother tried to interrupt, but it was too late.
— SCREW HER! SHAMELESS FACE! SHE COMES HERE AND ACTS LIKE SHE OWNS THE PLACE! GET AWAY FROM MY FRIDGE, NOW!
Anna stood calmly, holding the ice cream. She did not even flinch. Then Philip spoke. He rose slowly.
— Lika, shut your mouth, — he said quietly, but with such weight that his sister choked on air.
— What?! Phil, did you see what she’s doing?!
— She is doing exactly what you have been doing in our home every single day for two years, — Philip said sharply. — You come over, open our fridge, devour our cottage cheese, our fish, our groceries. And you think it’s normal. “Like a sister.” So, dear sister, Anna has every moral right to eat the entire contents of your refrigerator. And you should be grateful she hasn’t started digging through your underwear drawer. Since you’re so fond of living without boundaries.
Lika stood there, gasping.
— GET OUT! — she screamed, falling into hysterics. — GET OUT OF HERE! BOTH OF YOU! DON’T YOU EVER SET FOOT HERE AGAIN! CHEAPSKATES! FREAKS!
Viktor sat pale. He looked at his fiancée and saw a completely unfamiliar person. A crude, greedy, hysterical woman.
Anna carefully placed the ice cream on the table. Then she opened her purse, took out her wallet, and pulled out several bills — exactly around the amount the food she had eaten cost. Even a little extra.
She placed the money on the table, right into a puddle of spilled wine.
— For the pâté, grapes, and chocolate. Keep the change, — she said. — Buy yourself some sedatives, Lika. You’re awfully nervous.
Galina Petrovna saw it and covered her face with her hands. The shame became unbearable. That was exactly what she had done with the cottage cheese. Now the gesture had returned like a boomerang, striking the honor of the entire family in front of an outsider — the fiancé. It was humiliation. Subtle, elegant, mirrored.
— Let’s go, Philip, — Anna said.
They went into the hallway, got dressed, and left the apartment to the accompaniment of Lika’s continuing curses.
The silence in the apartment after they left was heavy. Viktor slowly rose from the table.
— Where are you going? Vitya? — Lika looked at him with wild eyes, breathing heavily.
— I… I need to think, Lika. I think I’ll go home tonight.
— What do you mean? Because of that bitch?
— No. Because of you. I just… I didn’t expect this.
He left. Galina Petrovna sat silently, staring at the money soaked in wine. Then she stood and picked up her purse.
— Mom, don’t you start too! — Lika barked.
— You’re a fool, Lika, — her mother said tiredly. — Such a fool. And I’m an old fool for encouraging you. You disgraced yourself, daughter. And you disgraced me too.
— SCREW ALL OF YOU! — Lika grabbed a plate and hurled it at the floor. Porcelain shattered into fragments.
Her mother walked out without another word.
Philip and Anna rode home in a taxi in silence. He held her hand tightly, stroking her fingers. His palm was hot and rough.
— Forgive me, — he finally said. — I should have stopped this sooner.
— It’s all right, — Anna rested her head on his shoulder. — What matters is that everything is finally in its proper place.
The scandal had the effect of a bomb going off, but the blast wave cleared the space.
A week later, it became known that Viktor had taken back his proposal. He said he was not ready to start a family until he sorted himself out, but mutual acquaintances said he had been deeply impressed by the “scene” his fiancée had caused over a piece of pâté.
Lika tried to come to her brother’s place a month later. But her keys had long since been taken away, and they simply did not open the door. Through the closed door, Philip said, “NO. Until you learn to respect my wife and my home, you will not come in here.”
Her mother-in-law came two months later. She was quiet. She brought a pie she had baked herself and a large bag of groceries: good meat, fruit, cheese.
— Hello, Anya, — she said, not crossing the threshold. — May I?
Anna looked at her. There was no arrogance in Galina Petrovna’s eyes anymore, no desire to lecture. There was fear of losing her son, and shame.
— Come in, Galina Petrovna. The kettle is hot.
But when her mother-in-law entered the kitchen, she did not look toward the refrigerator even once. And when Angelika was eventually allowed to appear from time to time at family celebrations at her mother’s place, the moment she reached toward the table before lunch had begun, Galina Petrovna would sternly pull her back:
— Hands! Ask first!
Lika was not angry at herself. She hated Anna fiercely, blaming her for all her misfortunes. But the fear of being completely expelled from her brother’s life and left alone — Viktor never came back — forced her to hold her tongue.
And every time she saw the closed door of someone else’s refrigerator, she remembered that evening, her own screams, and Anna’s calm gaze as she ate the grapes.