Dina closed her work laptop, leaving the annual report open on the screen, and stretched until her back cracked loudly. After hours of staring at endless spreadsheets, her eyes were beginning to water. The hands of the wall clock were already approaching a quarter past eight in the evening.
Music drifted in from the kitchen, accompanied by Roma’s voice as he happily sang along to a familiar song. Once again, her husband had decided that an ordinary dinner simply would not do and had started making his signature thin-crust pizza.
“Dina, come and try it!” he called. “The crust turned out perfect today. It’s exactly as crispy as it should be!”
Dina walked into the kitchen. Roma had already picked up the pizza cutter and was skillfully slicing the hot ham-and-mushroom pizza into even pieces.
“You’re a true culinary genius,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “By the way, during lunch today, I found an amazing place where we could celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary. Seven years is our copper anniversary, after all. I’d love to make it special.”
Even in everyday life, Roma remained an engineer and designer down to the very last cell in his brain. He immediately abandoned romance and moved on to practical details.
 
“Show me. Have you found another glamping site?”
Dina opened the page she had saved on her phone.
“Look. They have A-frame cabins right on the shore of a lake. My mother can take Misha for three days—I’ve already arranged everything with her. And we can go away together. The cabins have huge panoramic windows, there’s a forest all around, and there’s even a heated Japanese soaking tub on the terrace.”
Roma took the phone and began scrolling through the pictures.
“Not bad. Actually, it looks very good. Do they have internet?”
“That’s the whole point—they barely do! Just imagine: only you and me. No relatives, endless congratulations, or long-winded toasts. Remember the May holidays?”
“Don’t remind me,” Roma said with a grimace. “My mother spent half the evening lecturing Uncle Boris about his cheap cigarettes. Then he spent another two hours explaining how I should change the oil in my car, even though I don’t think he’s driven in twenty years.”
“And Aunt Valya kept complaining that we had taken out a mortgage instead of living in a shared apartment, the way ‘normal people used to,’ according to her,” Dina added with a laugh.
 
She took a bite of the hot pizza and was already picturing the peaceful forest and quiet lake when her phone screen suddenly lit up.
It was Nadezhda Pavlovna, her mother-in-law.
“Hello, my dear Dina!” the older woman chirped brightly. “I’ve been thinking about your anniversary. We’re all getting together on Sunday, aren’t we?”
Dina’s eyes widened, and she immediately waved at Roma.
He turned toward the sink and began washing dishes with exaggerated concentration, as if the conversation had absolutely nothing to do with him.
“Nadezhda Pavlovna, we were actually planning to go to a countryside resort…”
“What resort?” her mother-in-law exclaimed. “What a waste of money! Seven years of marriage is an important milestone. It should be celebrated properly, like decent people do—with the whole family.”
“But we wanted to spend some time alone…”
“Oh, nonsense!” Nadezhda Pavlovna dismissed her. “I’ve already called Aunt Valya and told Svetlana Borisovna. Uncle Boris is definitely coming, and they’ll bring Vova too. He’s been stuck at home for far too long since he still hasn’t found a job. Klavdia Ilyinichna promised to bake her honey cake.”
Dina immediately lost her appetite.
“But we don’t have enough room for everyone.”
“You live in a two-bedroom apartment, not a cupboard!” her mother-in-law declared. “Going to a café is expensive, and who knows what they’ll serve us there? Home is much warmer and more comfortable. I’ll make duck with apples, while you can slice the herring and prepare the salads. Good, then it’s settled. We’ll expect everyone at your place at two o’clock on Sunday! The neighbors would think it strange if you didn’t celebrate such an important date.”
When the call ended, Dina silently leaned against the refrigerator.
Roma shrugged guiltily.
“It sounds as if Mom has already told the entire neighborhood. If we cancel now, she’ll spend the next five years reminding us that we don’t respect the family.”
“Roma, this is our anniversary!”
 
“Dina, let’s just survive one evening. We can go to your glamping resort on Monday,” he suggested in a conciliatory tone.
Dina said nothing.
But something appeared in her expression that made Roma decide it would be safer to return to the dishes.
The following morning, Nadezhda Pavlovna created a group chat called “Roma and Dina’s Anniversary.”
By lunchtime, there were already fifteen members.
“I’ll bring my homemade pickled mushrooms!” Galina Stepanovna announced.
“Will Vova be allowed to use your computer?” Aunt Valya wanted to know.
Dina read one message after another, feeling her irritation steadily grow.
On Thursday evening, her mother-in-law arrived carrying two enormous shopping bags.
“I bought everything on sale!” Nadezhda Pavlovna proudly announced as she placed mayonnaise, canned peas, and a pale chicken intended for broth on the table. “Dina, what are these strange modern frying pans? You can’t possibly fry potatoes properly in those! And where have you put the crystal salad bowls?”
 
Roma wisely disappeared into the bedroom, claiming that the robot vacuum cleaner had suddenly broken.
Dina decided to make one final attempt.
“Nadezhda Pavlovna, perhaps we could order the food instead? I’m working on the annual report right now. I physically don’t have time to cook for fifteen people.”
“Order food?” her mother-in-law cried, theatrically clutching her chest. “You mean that chemical-filled rubbish they sell in boxes? A wife should know how to feed her guests! Svetlana Borisovna was already asking why the two of you haven’t planned a second child. Perhaps it’s because you don’t even want to cook!”
On Friday, Dina sat in the office drinking coffee with her friend and colleague Oksana.
“Can you believe she has already planned the entire menu? And she invited Uncle Boris. His advice will have me twitching uncontrollably before the evening is over,” Dina complained.
Oksana, who had always been decisive and resourceful, narrowed her eyes mischievously.
“Why are you putting up with any of this?”
“Because if I simply throw them out, Roma’s mother will make his life unbearable afterward. We need an excuse—something undeniable. A genuine emergency.”
 
“So you need an emergency?” Oksana repeated thoughtfully as she pulled out her phone. “My brother is studying acting. He has a friend who can be extremely convincing. We’ll arrange such a memorable celebration that your mother-in-law will forget the way to your apartment.”
On Sunday, the family group chat came alive at six in the morning.
“Dina, it’s already time to put the duck in the oven!” Nadezhda Pavlovna commanded.
Dina, meanwhile, calmly drank her morning coffee.
Uncle Boris arrived at ten. Officially, he was there to help move the tables, but he almost immediately settled himself in the kitchen, lit a cigarette beside the open window, and began explaining to Roma that the laminate flooring had been installed entirely incorrectly.
Roma’s cousin Vova appeared next.
The moment he stepped through the door, he asked, “What’s the Wi-Fi password?”
By two o’clock, the apartment was packed with guests. The smells of fried onions, garlic, perfume, and heavy cologne mingled in the air. Crooked paper garlands brought by Aunt Valya hung on the walls.
At last, everyone took their places around the table.
The guests were surrounded by platters of cold cuts, appetizers, and rich salads smothered in mayonnaise.
Uncle Boris was the first to raise his glass.
“Well, newlyweds!” he began in a booming voice. “Seven years together is a serious achievement. It’s about time you bought yourselves a proper car instead of suffering in that tiny thing you drive!”
Nadezhda Pavlovna immediately joined in.
“And you should have found a larger apartment ages ago! If you have more children, where are you going to put everyone?”
Dina looked at Roma.
 
He met her gaze.
Taking a slow breath, she rose from her chair with a glass of fruit drink in her hand.
“Dear guests! Roma and I are, of course, delighted to see all of you today. However, there is something important I need to tell you.”
The room suddenly became unusually quiet. Nadezhda Pavlovna looked suspiciously at her daughter-in-law and narrowed her eyes.
“Are you pregnant?”
“No,” Dina answered calmly, deliberately pausing before she continued. “About an hour ago, I received a call from our local police officer. Apparently, one of the neighbors reported that illegal commercial activity was taking place in our apartment.”
“What commercial activity?” Klavdia Ilyinichna asked in confusion.
“They claim we’re running an underground restaurant and organizing paid dinner parties in our home. I was told that a joint inspection team from the police and tax authorities was already on its way.”
Everyone around the table fell silent and exchanged worried glances. Uncle Boris coughed nervously.
At that exact moment, someone knocked loudly and confidently on the door.
Roma visibly turned pale. He had not been told the details of his wife’s plan. That morning, Dina had said only one thing to him:
“Whatever happens today, just play along.”
Now he was clearly beginning to wonder whether agreeing so easily had been a mistake.
Roma went to answer the door.
Two stern-looking men stood outside. The first wore a formal suit and carried a leather folder beneath his arm. The other was dressed in a police uniform that Oksana’s acquaintances had borrowed from a collection of theatrical costumes.
“Good afternoon,” the uniformed man said in a cold, official voice. “Captain Smirnov. I’m accompanied by an officer from the tax service.”
The young man with the folder stepped forward and critically surveyed the crowded table and the guests seated around it.
“We received a complaint from residents of this building,” he explained. “It concerns the operation of an illegal banquet hall inside a residential property, unregistered commercial catering activities, and possible tax evasion.”
 
Nadezhda Pavlovna immediately jumped to her feet.
“What tax evasion? This is a family celebration! We’re celebrating their anniversary! Everyone here is a relative!”
“That is exactly what people usually claim at first, ma’am,” the supposed tax inspector said with a weary sigh. He opened his folder and pulled out several sheets of paper they had prepared in advance. “Then, during the investigation, it suddenly turns out that visitors were charged an admission fee. Now, let us begin. Where are the health certificates for the people who prepared the food? Where are the receipts for the ingredients? Who supplied the duck? Do you have documentation for the meat?”
Aunt Valya instantly grabbed her plate of duck as if someone were about to confiscate it.
“What documentation? I bought it at the market!”
“Serving and distributing meat products without the appropriate documentation while providing food to a large gathering…” The man in uniform put on a grave expression and began writing rapidly in his notebook. “That constitutes a separate violation. The food will probably have to be confiscated for examination. The organizer may face a substantial fine for conducting illegal business activities in a residential apartment. Everyone present may also be registered as a participant in an unauthorized commercial event. Please prepare your identification documents.”
For several seconds, the guests seemed frozen in place.
Then total chaos erupted.
Uncle Boris was the first to edge cautiously toward the door.
“I’m not even a guest!” he declared quickly as he pulled on his jacket. “I only came by to borrow some salt!”
“Where do you think you’re going? Stop right there!” the “captain” barked menacingly.
But Uncle Boris had already vanished through the front door.
Vova raced after him so quickly that he completely forgot about the Wi-Fi password he had begged for earlier.
Meanwhile, Svetlana Borisovna frantically began returning her containers of aspic to her shopping bag.
“Dina, Roma, please forgive me,” she muttered. “I’ve only just remembered that I might have left the iron on at home!”
A moment later, she too disappeared into the hallway.
The rest of the guests followed her example.
Within minutes, the apartment that had been overflowing with relatives was almost completely empty.
Only Nadezhda Pavlovna remained. Her face had turned bright red with fury.
She spun around and pointed an accusing finger at Dina.
 
“You arranged all of this!” she practically shrieked. “You reported us yourself! You deliberately decided to ruin the celebration!”
“Nadezhda Pavlovna, I asked you in advance not to hold this dinner here,” Dina replied with perfect calm. “I also warned you that our neighbors are extremely sensitive. They especially dislike Uncle Boris smoking in the stairwell. But you decided not to listen to me.”
Nadezhda Pavlovna snatched up her handbag, glared first at her daughter-in-law and then at the inspectors, and stormed toward the exit.
She slammed the door so hard behind her that one of the paper garlands swayed on the wall.
Everyone listened in silence for several seconds.
When the sound of her footsteps had finally disappeared down the stairs, the stern “tax inspector” immediately dropped his severe expression. He broke into a wide smile and slapped his partner on the shoulder.
“Well, I think that went brilliantly! Now that was improvisation!”
Dina finally burst out laughing. She thanked the two actors, paid them the amount they had agreed upon, and gave them two untouched pizzas to take home.
Throughout all of this, Roma stood in the middle of the room, staring in disbelief first at his wife and then at the two suddenly cheerful “inspectors.”
“Dina… Did you seriously arrange all of that?” he finally managed to ask.
Then he slowly lowered himself into a chair.
A second later, Roma began to laugh.
He laughed so long and hard that tears appeared in his eyes.
“I genuinely thought they were going to arrest me because of that duck!”
 
By Monday evening, the couple were sitting on the spacious wooden terrace of an A-frame cabin surrounded by pine trees.
Thick clouds of steam rose from the hot water in the outdoor tub. The air smelled of pine needles, warm wood, and meat slowly cooking on the grill.
Before long, Oksana and her husband, Sergei, appeared on the forest path. They had not arrived empty-handed: they had brought homemade wine and a bag of marshmallows to roast over the evening fire.
“Well then, tell us everything, leader of the criminal organization,” Sergei said with a laugh as he opened the bottle. “How is your underground restaurant doing today?”
Wrapped in a soft blanket, Dina smiled happily.
“My phone nearly ran out of power from all the missed calls. Roma’s mother sent me an enormous message as well. She wrote that she would never set foot in our ‘suspicious apartment’ again.”
Roma put an arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“I replied that we fully understood the seriousness of what had happened. That’s why, for the next five years, we’ll celebrate every special occasion entirely on our own. After all, we can’t risk exposing our relatives to possible criminal charges again.”
 
Oksana laughed.
They raised their glasses and toasted one another.
The pine trees rustled softly around them. Dry logs crackled in the fire. Steam drifted slowly above the water, while beyond the trees, the warm evening darkness began to settle over the forest.
Dina looked at her husband, her friends, and the peaceful woodland surrounding them and realized one thing with absolute certainty: she had never had a better anniversary.
She now understood something else just as clearly.
She would never again allow anyone to take away her right to peace or to make her own decisions.
Even if defending that right meant arranging another extremely convincing “official inspection.”