Their apartment smelled of mastic and tile adhesive, even though Olga always tried not to bring work home with her. She had spread colorful sketches across the table, pushing aside a mug of cold tea. Viktor sat opposite her, buried in the blueprints for a new amusement ride called “Whirlwind,” which his design bureau was creating for the city park.
“Vitya, look at this option,” Olga said, tapping her finger on the brochure for a holiday resort. “Pine forest, skiing, and most importantly — no cooking. Buffet meals three times a day. We deserve a proper New Year’s holiday. Just the two of us.”
Viktor lifted his head, but his eyes slid away, as if the engineer in him were searching for a miscalculation in a load-bearing formula. He took off his glasses and turned them nervously in his hands.
“Olya, there’s something I need to tell you… Mom called half an hour ago.”
Olga slowly removed her hand from the glossy page.
“And what does Elena Alekseevna want?” she asked. Her voice was still soft, but inside, an alarm bell had already begun to ring.
“They… well, they decided to come. Mom, Ira, her husband, and their nephew.”
“Vitya, are you joking?” Olga tried to smile, hoping this was some ridiculous prank. “We agreed. Last year. Remember? I stood at the stove for three days while your relatives watched TV and criticized my salads. You gave me your word.”
“I remember, Olya. I honestly do. But they’ve already bought the tickets. Ira said Mom would be lonely on her own, and it’s inconvenient for her to go to Ira’s because they don’t have enough space. But we do.”
“We have a two-room apartment, Viktor!” Olga’s patience began to crack. Her fingers, used to cutting hard stone, clenched into a fist. “Where exactly are they supposed to sleep? On the ceiling?”
Viktor sighed, trying to look like a calm peacemaker.
“We’ll put an air mattress in the living room. We’ll squeeze in for a couple of days. Olenka, please understand. They’re already looking forward to it. I can’t just leave my mother and sister out in the cold.”
“They live a hundred kilometers away, Vitya! It’s not the end of the world,” Olga snapped, rising from her chair. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to call them right now and tell them we have other plans. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving where?” her husband asked, confused.
“To the resort. I’ll call Katya right now. She and Andrey invited us. I wasn’t sure before, but now I have no doubts at all.”
“Olya, it’s expensive. And inconvenient. People are coming to our place, and we’re just… running away?”
“We are not running away. We are saving my sanity!” she cut him off. “I did not sign up to be a waitress for your sister.”
Olga dialed her friend’s number. Katya, who worked as an antiques appraiser and was always busy, answered immediately.
“Katya, is the offer still open? Book it for four. Yes, from the thirtieth. Yes, I’m sure. I’ll transfer the money now.”
Viktor stared at his wife in alarm.
“What are you doing? They’re arriving on the morning of the thirtieth! We’ll bump into each other at the door!”
“Perfect,” Olga said through clenched teeth. “We’ll hand them the keys to an empty apartment with no food and let them entertain themselves. Or no — we won’t give them the keys. Let them go back home.”
The next day, Viktor walked around darker than a storm cloud. He tried calling his sister, but the conversation turned out short and pathetic. Olga heard every word, because her husband put the call on speaker, clearly hoping his wife would support him.
“Vitenka, what nonsense!” Irina chirped, her voice rising above the sound of a crying child in the background. “We’ve already wrapped the gifts. Tell Olga to buy a goose. Mom wants goose with apples. And she should make the aspic ahead of time too, because hers never sets properly.”
Olga felt blood rush to her face. This was no longer just disrespect. It was shameless, possessive confidence that they had the right to command her time and energy.
“Ira, we’re leaving,” Viktor mumbled.
“Where do you think you’re going?” his sister’s voice turned shrill. “Your mother is coming to see you, her blood pressure is jumping all over the place, and you’re off to some resort? Have some conscience! Anyway, we’ll be there at nine in the morning on the thirtieth. Be ready.”
The line went dead. Viktor looked at his wife guiltily.
“You see? She won’t listen.”
“Because you mumble!” Olga barked. “Give me the phone.”
“To call who?”
“Your mother. Since you can’t explain to your family that we are not service staff, I’ll do it myself.”
Viktor handed her the phone as if it were a grenade with the pin already pulled.
Elena Alekseevna answered at once, as though she had been waiting for the call.
“Viktor, have you calmed your wife down?” the mother-in-law demanded. “Ira told me you two are staging some kind of protest.”
“This is Olga, Elena Alekseevna,” Olga said loudly, not letting her husband get a word in. “Listen carefully, because I won’t repeat myself. Vitya and I are leaving on the thirtieth. We won’t be back until the fifth. Do not come.”
“You… what do you think you’re doing?” her mother-in-law’s voice trembled with outrage. “Who are you to give me orders? I’m coming to see my son! My son! You’re turning him against his own mother! You greedy, selfish woman! Are you really too stingy to give family a piece of bread?”
“I’m too stingy with my own life to waste it on your whims!” Olga shouted. “Last time you turned my home into a pigsty! Irina didn’t lift a finger! I am not your maid!”
“You rude little witch!” the mother-in-law screeched. “Vitya! Do you hear how she’s speaking to your mother? If you don’t take us in, I’ll curse you! We’re coming, and you’ll have no choice. You’ll open the door like good little children!”
Olga felt a hot, hard wave rise inside her. It was the same feeling she got when she picked up a heavy hammer to split granite.
“Then come,” she suddenly said in an icy voice. “Come. You can kiss the lock.”
She ended the call and threw the phone onto the sofa.
“You wouldn’t dare do that,” Viktor whispered, staring at her in horror.
“I would. And if you start whining now, Vitya, I’ll go with Katya and Andrey by myself. You can stay here, cook the aspic, and listen to everyone explain what a terrible wife I am. Choose. Right now. But understand this — there will be consequences for you too.”
The morning of the thirtieth was gloomy, sunless, but dry. The suitcases were already standing in the hallway. Olga was putting on her boots when the doorbell rang insistently.
“It’s them,” Viktor froze, holding a bag with his ski boots. “They arrived early.”
“Open it,” Olga ordered.
Viktor unlocked the door. The whole delegation stood on the threshold: heavyset Elena Alekseevna in a fur hat, Irina with a nose reddened by the cold, her sullen husband loaded down with bags, and a whining child.
“Well, finally!” the mother-in-law said indignantly, stepping forward. “We’ve been ringing and ringing! What took you so long? Bring the bags in!”
She tried to push into the hallway, shoving Viktor aside with her shoulder. But Olga blocked her path. She stood in the doorway, hands braced against the frame, like a living mosaic no one could move.
“No one is going anywhere inside,” she said loudly and clearly.
“Have you lost your mind?” Irina snapped, trying to slip under Olga’s arm. “Move!”
Olga shoved her sister-in-law in the chest. Not weakly. Not delicately. She pushed her the way one pushes a heavy slab of stone. Irina stumbled backward and stepped on her husband’s foot. He yelped and dropped a bag.
“Get OUT!” Olga shouted so loudly that the lights on every floor of the stairwell flickered on. “I warned you! This is not a hotel! This is MY home!”
“Vitya! Do something!” the mother-in-law shrieked, clutching her chest. “She’s attacking us!”
Viktor looked at his mother, then at his sister, then at the screaming relatives who had filled the entire landing. Then he looked at his wife. Olga stood there flushed, ready to fight them with her bare hands if necessary, defending their right to peace.
Without a word, he picked up his suitcase, squeezed sideways past his frozen wife, and stepped out onto the landing.
“Vitenka!” his mother cried with relief. “There, tell her!”
“Move aside,” Viktor said dryly, pushing his mother away with his elbow. “We’re late. The taxi is waiting.”
“Where are you going?! What about us?” Irina gaped at him.
“You’re going home. Back where you came from.”
Viktor headed firmly down the stairs.
Olga followed him out, slammed the metal door shut with a crash, and turned the key twice in the lock.
“This is inhuman!” her mother-in-law shouted after them.
Irina’s husband, finally understanding the situation, spat on the floor.
“I told you we shouldn’t have come, you stupid women. Let’s get to the station while there are still tickets.”
Olga hurried down the stairs after her husband. She took his hand. His palm was damp, but he squeezed her fingers tighter than he ever had before. Down by the entrance, Andrey’s car was already honking.