On the first Saturday of December, Ekaterina found a strange car parked in front of her gate. The woman sitting inside was touching up her lipstick and clearly had no intention of moving to let her in.
Ekaterina gave two quick honks. The woman lowered her window.
“Are you here for Marina, too? I have an appointment at eleven, but I arrived a bit early.”
“No, I live here.”
“Oh… so you must be the owner?”
Ekaterina was just about to confirm, but the woman continued,
“Could you please let Marina know I’m here? She’s not picking up her phone.”
The window rolled up.
Ekaterina stared at the car for a few moments, amused—she had come home, but now she also had to play the role of receptionist.
But by now, incidents like this had become far from rare.
In October, a strange car appeared by the gate for the first time. Ekaterina figured it was just a friend visiting her sister-in-law. The next week, there were two cars, and soon, every Saturday, groups of women started gathering by the porch with shopping bags, coffees, and their phones in hand.
At first, Ekaterina was actually happy for Marina. After her breakup, Marina had been gloomier than a November sky, but now it seemed like her life was finally getting back on track.
But before long, Ekaterina realized that Marina’s newfound happiness was mostly thanks to Ekaterina’s house.
Marina, Denis’ younger sister, had moved in with them at the end of August. She was twenty-nine and had spent almost two years living with her boyfriend before that, in a rented apartment.
Their breakup wasn’t all that dramatic. At some point, they just realized the only things they still shared were a fridge, a sofa, and a mutual sense of annoyance.
The man kept the apartment since the lease was in his name. Marina turned to her brother for help.
“Katya, just for a few weeks,” Denis had said back then. “Just until she finds something else. We can’t let her end up on the street.”
Ekaterina agreed.
The house was spacious enough: their bedroom, an office, two small rooms, a kitchen, bathroom, and an insulated veranda. Marina got one of the smaller rooms.
Denis himself had moved in seven years ago, and a year later he and Ekaterina got married. Over the years, the couple had gotten used to living alone. Denis worked as an equipment maintenance engineer, and Ekaterina was a financial analyst, spending most of her week working from home.
Both had decent earnings, but their free time was limited. That’s why Ekaterina especially valued having peace to work—without arguing over who gets the bathroom or why strangers were always in the kitchen.
For the first month, Marina didn’t bother anyone.
She bought her own groceries, joined in on group shopping trips, and always cleaned up after herself. She even brought a small shelf so she wouldn’t use up anyone else’s space.
At dinner, she’d show listings for available apartments.
But she had something to say about every option.
One place had windows facing a busy road. Another required a deposit. A third was too far from the bus stop. And a fourth—which seemed perfectly fine—was on the fifth floor with no elevator.
“I’ll be dead on my feet after work,” Marina explained. “And then I’m supposed to climb all those stairs?”
Ekaterina almost pointed out that at twenty-nine, climbing to the fifth floor isn’t exactly an extreme sport, but she stayed quiet.
By late September, talk of apartment listings had vanished.
Instead, Marina took an interest in the veranda.
She specialized in eyebrow shaping and eyelash lamination. She used to rent a small room in a salon, but her contract was ending and she didn’t want to renew it.
“The rent went up again,” her sister-in-law complained. “But the veranda here just sits empty. Maybe I could see a couple of clients from time to time? Just one or two girls a week, no more.”
Ekaterina thought about it.
The veranda really didn’t get much use once the weather turned cold. There was an old wooden wardrobe that had belonged to her grandfather, a clothes dryer, and a few wicker chairs.
“Only if it really is just occasionally,” she agreed. “And no outsiders when we’re not home. After all, this is our living space.”
Marina was delighted.
Denis praised his sister for her business sense.
“Exactly, why give your money to a stranger when you can work here for now?”
Ekaterina noticed the word ‘for now.’ It sounded encouraging.
A week later, a folding table appeared on the veranda, then a mirror and a lamp.
Two weeks after that, Ekaterina discovered that Marina had an online booking page, listing their home address as the permanent place of appointments.
She found out by chance.
That morning, as she was about to hang up the laundry, she opened the veranda door and saw a woman she didn’t know, lying on a couch with her eyes closed. There was some kind of film on her eyebrows.
Ekaterina stopped, holding the laundry basket.
The woman opened one eye.
“Is Marina coming soon?”
“I hope so,” replied Ekaterina.
Marina came out of the kitchen with a cup of tea.
“Katya, what’s up? I have a client.”
“I see. Where’s the drying rack?”
“In the small room, behind the door. I moved it — it didn’t look nice here.”
Ekaterina looked at the couch, the cosmetic cart, and the instrument sterilizer.
So the drying rack ruined the look. But apparently, a stranger under a film fit right in with the decor.
That evening, Ekaterina talked to her husband.
Denis didn’t see a problem.
His sister was working, not sitting around without money, and she wasn’t really bothering anyone. She’d also promised to pay them back later for the electricity expenses.
“And what if I wanted to rent out the veranda to strangers?” Ekaterina asked.
“What does that have to do with this?”
“The point is, it’s the same space. Only strangers would at least pay us rent.”
Denis argued that it’s customary to help family.
Ekaterina didn’t disagree with the principle itself. She just wanted to understand why help had slowly lost its boundaries.
By mid-November, Marina was already seeing four or five clients a day. Not every day, but often enough that Ekaterina started to recognize the regular visitors.
One liked to arrive before her appointment. Another always requested hot water for coffee. A third believed that since her beautician worked from a private house, she could park wherever she wanted in the yard.
One day, Ekaterina couldn’t get to the garage.
She had to ask a stranger to move her car.
“But Marina said it’s free here,” the woman said in surprise.
“I guess she forgot to mention that we actually use the garage sometimes.”
The incident with the video meeting stood out the most.
Ekaterina was discussing her company’s annual budget with colleagues. The department head was speaking on screen when the office door opened and a woman in shoe covers peeked in.
“Excuse me, where’s the bathroom?”
Ekaterina muted her microphone and pointed the way.
When the unexpected guest left, the department head asked:
“Do we have someone new in the department?”
After the meeting, Ekaterina went to the veranda.
Marina was just finishing a procedure.
“Marina, your clients are walking all over the house. This is getting out of hand.”
“She just mixed up the doors.”
“And what’s next? Someone confusing my bedroom for a changing room?”
My sister-in-law asked me not to exaggerate and promised she would warn her clients.
That promise only lasted until the next Saturday.
Then, a sign with the studio’s name and schedule appeared on the gate.
That evening, Ekaterina took down the sign and placed it on the kitchen table.
Marina was offended.
“People are looking for the address. What’s so bad about a small sign?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. I just never agreed to open a salon in my home.”
“It’s not a salon! I’m working alone.”
Two days later, she asked to have another set of keys made for the gate and the front door.
It turned out Marina was thinking about inviting an assistant for a few hours. The assistant could greet clients while Marina was busy with procedures.
At that point, Ekaterina refused right away without a second thought.
Marina was given one set of keys for her personal use. Ekaterina didn’t intend to hand out additional ones to people she didn’t even know.
“If you want to work with an assistant, rent a place. As long as you live here, you can occasionally see someone you know—just like we agreed. But the steady stream of clients is over.”
Marina went to complain to her brother.
Denis tried to smooth things over.
He told his wife he would talk to his sister. He told his sister that Ekaterina was just tired. In the evening, he called his mom and said there were some minor disagreements at home.
Galina Arkadyevna arrived on Sunday.
She was a proactive woman, with plenty of experience managing a store. She preferred to solve any family issue quickly—and ideally, to have the decision match her original opinion.
She checked out the veranda, praised the setup, and told Marina she was doing a great job.
“These days, young people struggle to find work, but here, someone organized her own income.”
“I’m not against earning money,” Ekaterina explained. “I’m against my home turning into a busy corridor for strangers.”
“Katya, what crowds? Maybe five people a day?”
“There were over fifty clients just in November. Marina showed me the appointments herself.”
“So what? They don’t spend the night at your place!”
Ekaterina realized the conversation was starting to sound like a discussion about hotel capacity.
What really outraged Galina Arkadyevna was the sign being removed.
“You should’ve discussed that with everyone first.”
“With whom exactly?”
“With the family, of course.”
At that very moment, Denis was studying a cookie package with such intensity, you’d think the secret to life was hidden inside.
That evening, he asked his wife not to pay any mind to his mother.
“She’s just worried about Marina.”
“And who are you worried about?”
Denis paused to think.
“About everyone.”
“That’s a convenient position. But it seems like all the responsibilities are on me.”
Her husband was hurt by that, but didn’t argue.
The next few days passed relatively peacefully. Marina tried to schedule clients whenever Ekaterina was working away from home. Even the parking situation improved.
Ekaterina started to think that maybe the conversation had actually worked.
But on Friday evening, she noticed an empty spot on the veranda.
The old wooden cabinet was gone.
The cabinet came to Ekaterina along with some of her grandfather’s old furniture. Although it wasn’t worth anything as an antique, it was sturdy, heavy, and something she’d known since childhood. Her grandfather once changed the hinges himself and even carved a small notch in the door so it wouldn’t catch on the handle of the neighboring armchair.
Ekaterina walked around the veranda, peeked into the kitchen, and then asked Marina:
“Where’s the cabinet?”
“We moved it to the shed. It was taking up too much space.”
“Who moved it?”
“Denis helped. I asked him to.”
The shed was cold and damp. The cabinet stood next to sacks of garden soil, and one of its legs had slipped into a gap between the floorboards.
Ekaterina went back inside.
“Marina, why do you suddenly need so much space?”
“I ordered a second cot. One of my friends is a lash technician and needs somewhere to work. We agreed to take turns. Most of her clients come in the evening.”
Ekaterina even asked again to make sure she understood correctly.
It turned out her sister-in-law wasn’t just setting up a workroom in someone else’s house anymore—she was planning to expand, bringing in another professional.
And apparently, the owner of the place was never consulted about this business plan at all.
“Cancel the order. Bring the cabinet back. And clear the veranda of your equipment by the end of next week.”
Marina stared at her.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“Where am I supposed to take my clients now? I already told everyone I’d be working here full-time!”
“Maybe you should have asked me first if I planned on letting you use the space long-term.”
Marina argued that she also lived in the house, bought groceries, and helped cover expenses.
“I’m not living here for free!”
“I appreciate you buying groceries. But just because you buy milk doesn’t mean you can open a salon in someone else’s living room.”
Marina insisted you shouldn’t treat family that way.
Ekaterina reminded her she wasn’t throwing her out on the street. She could stay another month to calmly find a place to live. But taking clients had to stop right away and the work equipment had to be moved out.
The conversation ended with Marina locking herself in her room.
Denis arrived late.
When Ekaterina asked why he’d helped move the cabinet, her husband explained that his sister wanted the space cleared. He had no idea the cabinet would end up in the damp shed, and definitely didn’t know about the second cot.
“Where did you think it would go?” Ekaterina asked. “To the next room? Your sister lives there. In our bedroom? That’s ours.”
Denis admitted he hadn’t thought about it.
But that realization came a bit too late. The cabinet had already spent a whole day in the shed—and the family’s patience had nearly run out after almost three months of rent-free living.
The next morning, Galina Arkadyevna arrived.
This time, she came without cookies or her usual friendly questions about everyone’s health.
She went straight to the kitchen, where Ekaterina was having tea, and started right away:
“Katya, please explain to me what’s going on. Marina was upset all night. Are you forbidding her from working?”
“I’m forbidding her to use my house as a salon.”
“There you go again with ‘my’! You and Denis are a family. Is it right to draw those lines?”
Ekaterina set down her cup.
“Galina Arkadyevna, I helped Marina. I gave her a room. I let her bring in her own clients. But now she wants to add a second cot and bring in another specialist. And nobody even asked me.”
Why does she have to beg for every little thing from you? This is her brother’s home too!
What do you mean by that?
Just what I said. Denis has lived here for seven years. He’s your husband, not a tenant. And Marina is his sister—she’s not some random stranger from the street.
Hearing the familiar voices, Marina walked out of her room and stopped by the kitchen door.
Her mother-in-law was just getting started.
How dare you treat my daughter this way? She’s a hostess here too! No less than anyone else! Why is she being treated like an outsider and sent packing?
Ekaterina glanced at her husband.
Denis just sat at the table in silence.
Maybe he thought that if he stayed very still, the family argument would just mistake him for part of the furniture.
Fine, Ekaterina said. Then let’s clarify who owns this house.
She went to the study and came back carrying the house sale contract and a recent real estate registry statement. She’d ordered the statement last fall while she was checking the property details before signing up for insurance.
She set the documents down on the table.
Take a look at the owner’s name.
Galina Arkadyevna put on her glasses.
First, she read the last name. Then, the date.
Ekaterina bought the house nearly ten years ago. Back then, she sold the apartment she inherited from her grandfather, added the money she had been saving from her salary for years, and bought the house with a plot of land.
She only met Denis two years after that.
They dated for another year, and then decided to live together. Denis moved in with Ekaterina, and later they got married.
And all this time, the owner of the house didn’t change.
There was never any joint purchase, and Ekaterina never transferred a share to Denis. The house, bought before the marriage, always remained her personal property.
Her mother-in-law took off her glasses.
I know you bought the house. Denis told me.
Then it’s even stranger to hear that Marina is just as much a hostess here.
But you’re husband and wife!
Yes, Denis lives here as my husband. We run the household together and make family financial decisions. But that doesn’t mean any of his relatives get to make decisions about the rooms.
Marina also looked over the documents.
So, I’m nobody here then?
You’re my husband’s sister. I let you stay here when you were having a hard time. That’s not nothing, Marina. But it doesn’t make you the owner of the house.
Galina Arkadyevna tried a different approach:
Does Marina at least have a residence registration here?
No, Ekaterina answered. She’s still registered at your apartment. But even with a registration here, she wouldn’t get any ownership rights.
Her mother-in-law fell silent.
Apparently, it was harder to argue with official paperwork than with her daughter-in-law.
Then she turned to her son:
Denis, why are you so quiet?
He finally looked up.
Because Katya is right.
Marina pushed her chair back abruptly.
Great. Everyone’s against me.
Not everyone is against you, her brother answered. But I’m at fault too. I let you use the veranda when I shouldn’t have done that alone. And I helped you move the wardrobe without asking Katya.
But you said we’re family!
We are family. That’s why you had a place to stay here for three months. But I never promised you a permanent space for your business.
This was probably the first time in a while that Denis spoke his mind without trying to please everyone in the room at once.
Ekaterina didn’t throw a celebration for his sudden show of determination.
She simply repeated the conditions.
Client appointments end as of today. By next Friday, the veranda needs to be cleared of all equipment. Marina has one month, until early January, to find a new place to live.
Marina tried to object about her scheduled clients.
“I have people booked for the next two weeks!”
“Let them know the address is changing, or cancel their appointments. I’m not responsible for those bookings.”
Nobody was happy about it.
But for the first time in three months, everyone fully understood what was happening and what would happen next.
That same day, Denis brought the cabinet back from the shed. Ekaterina checked the legs, wiped down the wood, and put it back in its old spot.
The second treatment couch never made it into the house. Marina cancelled the home delivery and arranged with the seller to delay things while she looked for another space.
The next day, she posted a notice about temporarily stopping appointments.
For the next few days, she walked around the house with the look of someone who’d just lost a successful business and her chances of going global.
Then she started looking for new options.
And something surprising happened.
There actually were spaces in the city suitable for work.
In fact, a friend who was a manicure specialist had already offered to share the rent on a small studio. Marina had said no before—why pay, when she could use the veranda for free?
But now, that offer seemed far more appealing.
Two weeks after their family talk, the two women signed a lease for the studio and split the expenses evenly.
The place had a small treatment room, a separate waiting area, a bathroom, and parking right outside the building.
Marina gradually transferred her clients to the new address.
And surprisingly, she found that work became much more comfortable.
No one distracted her with questions about why there were shoe covers in the hallway again. Clients didn’t wander into the wrong room by mistake, didn’t interrupt family dinners, and didn’t ask if they could leave their car near the garage.
Most importantly, the studio finally had a proper working atmosphere.
One day, Marina even admitted to her brother:
“The ladies in the other rooms actually recommend clients to each other. I’ve already gotten a few new appointments this way.”
Denis was happy for her but wisely held back from commenting on how nice it was to have a free space at a relative’s house.
The housing question was settled a bit later.
Marina rented a small one-bedroom apartment not far from the studio. It cost more than she planned, but at least she didn’t have to argue every night about who was in the way of the treatment couch or why the parking was used up again.
At the end of December, she moved the rest of her things there.
Denis helped her with the boxes and equipment.
As they were loading the last trolley of cosmetics, Marina asked:
“Can I leave the old treatment couch on the veranda for now? It’s a bit cramped at the studio, I’ll sell it later.”
Denis tightened the strap on the box and replied:
“No, Marina. Let’s just take it away now. If it doesn’t fit, sell it or find another place for it. We agreed to clear the veranda, remember?”
Ekaterina was standing nearby and overheard the conversation.
She didn’t need to step in.
Before leaving, Marina returned the set of keys to the gate and the house.
“I didn’t make any copies,” she said, looking a little embarrassed.
“That’s good,” Ekaterina replied.
They hadn’t become best friends yet. In fact, they never really were. But now they could talk calmly.
Marina finally realized that help from relatives doesn’t mean a permanent investment in her business. Though, Ekaterina suspected this lesson was truly learned after Marina paid rent for the first time.
At the beginning of January, Galina Arkadyevna visited.
She asked to put the kettle on, brought a pie, and checked in on how Marina was doing at her new place.
It turned out things were going well. Marina’s schedule was packed, the expenses were higher, but working was much more pleasant.
“She really did well,” her mother-in-law said. “She didn’t get lost, organized everything herself. Denis says the veranda is free now. In spring, we can sit there again, like before.”
Ekaterina nodded.
“We just put the chairs back out there.”
“You and Denis really do have a lovely house…”
Galina Arkadyevna paused for a moment.
“You have a lovely home, Katya. And your yard is always so well-kept.”
Ekaterina smiled and set a cup in front of her.
She wasn’t going to correct every little slip of her mother-in-law’s tongue. After all, the house really was the place where she and Denis lived as a family. Her husband didn’t become an outsider just because his last name wasn’t listed as the owner.
Now no one confused family relationships with the right to use someone else’s property.
And the wooden wardrobe on the veranda stayed right where it had been for many years. In the spring, Ekaterina planned to give it a bit of a facelift.
Sometimes, as she walked by, she’d smile, remembering how Marina once wanted to put a second couch there instead.
Marina was certainly a resourceful girl. But her original business plan had one major flaw: she completely ignored the opinion of the person who actually owned the space.
And it wasn’t a family argument, Denis’ persuasion, or her mother-in-law’s years of management experience that fixed that flaw.
A simple document from the property register made more of an impact than anything else.
Ekaterina even thought the document deserved a spot on her bookshelf.
Not to intimidate the relatives, of course.
Just in case anyone got the idea to start another moneymaking venture in her house without her say-so.