Anna rearranged the figurines on the shelf, wiping the dust off with her sleeve. Every Friday, she performed her ritual of a deep cleaning—whether guests were coming or not. Cleanliness had become a habit, one that turned into an obsession. At fifty-eight, she felt that control over her home was the last thing that truly belonged to her.
Her phone vibrated. Anna sighed, already knowing who was calling.
“Yes, Vera,” she said tiredly, pressing the phone to her ear while polishing the coffee table.
“Ana! What are you doing? Igor and the kids and I decided to drop by for a bit! We’re almost there. I hope we won’t be a bother?”
Anna closed her eyes. Again. Again, they were springing it on her at the last moment. No asking, just informing. And that sly question at the end—as if she had a choice.
“Of course, you won’t be a bother,” she replied mechanically. “When should I expect you?”
“In about twenty minutes! And we’re not alone, Oleg’s family will be with us. You don’t mind, do you?”
Anna clenched the phone, her knuckles white. Five adults and three kids. Unplanned. And not one person would offer to help.
“Fine,” she said shortly. “I’ll wait.”
She hung up and turned abruptly towards the cupboard with the dishes. She pulled out large plates, small plates, cups… Her hands worked on autopilot. Thoughts swarmed like angry wasps, stinging and biting.
“I’ve spent my whole life cooking, cleaning, trying… And what? Do they think I’m just their servant? A free canteen?”
Outside, she saw her brother-in-law’s car pull up. Anna froze, watching the kids tumble out—Mishka and Alyonka, followed by Vera and Igor, and then Oleg’s family in their SUV.
“Valera!” she shouted into the apartment. “The guests are here! Your brother and his family, and Oleg’s!”
Her husband emerged from the study—calm as ever. What was he worried about? It wasn’t his job to cook, clean, or entertain the guests.
“Why are you shouting?” he asked, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “I’ll meet them…”
Anna didn’t answer, merely pressing her lips tighter. In the hallway, voices rose, the children were laughing, the intercom buzzed—Oleg’s family was being let in by the neighbors downstairs.
“Anushka!” Vera, big and boisterous, rushed into the apartment first, arms wide open for a hug. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other!”
“A month ago. Also unannounced,” Anna thought, but smiled and embraced her relative. Vera smelled of sweet perfume and fresh air.
“Come in, come in,” Anna invited, though the guests were already taking off their shoes and walking in, as if it was expected.
The children zoomed past her into the living room—a gust of wind in her ears.
“Mishka! Alyonka! Be careful!” she shouted after them, but the kids were already fighting over the remote.
Vera tossed her bag onto the table and followed the kids into the living room, leaving fingerprints on the mirror in the hallway—she had been fixing her makeup. Anna followed those marks with her eyes, barely resisting the urge to wipe them away right then.
While everyone was greeting each other, exchanging news, Anna automatically walked to the kitchen. The fridge was full—that was good. There should be enough food. She took out cheese, sausage, butter, and a jar of pickles. A bowl of candy was already on the table—something to keep the guests busy until the main course.
“Mum, can I help?” Her daughter, Natasha, appeared in the kitchen doorway. Natasha had recently moved back in—she had separated from her husband and was temporarily staying with her parents.
“You can slice the bread,” Anna nodded, pulling a tray of roasted chicken from the oven—she had prepared it earlier for the family dinner.
“Is Aunt Vera here again without warning?” Natasha asked quietly, skillfully using the knife.
“How else?” Anna pressed her lips together. “And Oleg’s family with them. They couldn’t have called ahead…”
“Mum, they’re just relatives,” Natasha shrugged. “You take it too seriously. They’ll be gone soon.”
Anna remained silent. Her daughter wouldn’t understand. Natasha had never cooked for a crowd, never run around with a cloth, scrubbing children’s fingerprints off the furniture. It was easy for her to say.
Laughter sounded from the living room, followed by Vera’s voice.
“Ana! Don’t you have anything for tea?”
Anna froze, the knife hovering in mid-air.
“For tea? I haven’t even put the kettle on yet, and they’re already asking for dessert!”
“I’ll be right there!” she called out, trying to make her voice sound cheerful.
And again, memories of endless tea parties, lunches, when relatives came, ate, and left, leaving behind a mountain of dishes and crumbs all over the house. And she cleaned it all up. Silently.
The tray of snacks dragged her hands down, but Anna carried it with habitual grace. How many trays had she carried in her life? Too many to count.
In the living room, the company settled in comfortably. Igor collapsed into Valera’s favorite armchair—Valera said nothing, just sat modestly at the edge of the sofa. The kids stretched out on the carpet in front of the TV. Oleg’s family—Marina and Sergey—took the couch, and Vera sat in the armchair by the window.
“Oh, snacks!” Igor rubbed his hands together. “Ana, you’re always on top of things!”
Anna smiled stiffly, setting the plates on the coffee table.
“I’ll bring the chicken now.”
“What’s with the chicken?” Marina asked, not even looking up from her phone. “Any sides?”
Anna froze for a second. Then, she straightened up slowly.
“Roasted potatoes,” she replied. “I made it for a family dinner, but…”
“Family?” Vera interrupted, throwing her hands up. “But we are family! Right, Valera?”
Her husband made a vague sound, shrugging as if to say, “Of course, of course, we’re all family.” Traitor.
“Yes, of course,” Anna muttered, turning back to the kitchen.
Natasha was setting cups on a large tray.
“Mum, you look like you’re about to explode,” she whispered. “Relax. We’ll feed them and see them off.”
“‘Feed them,’” Anna repeated. “Am I supposed to feed them? Did they ever ask if it was convenient for us to host them? Maybe we had plans!”
“Had plans?” Natasha was surprised.
“No, but we could have!” Anna snapped, grabbing the plates for the hot food. One of them clattered on the countertop with an unpleasant sound. “It’s a matter of principle. Polite people call ahead. Ask. They don’t show up in a crowd and demand service.”
Natasha sighed.
“You’re taking it too seriously…”
From the living room, Vera’s voice came again: “Ana! Maybe you could make some sandwiches? With salmon, like last time? They were so good!”
This was Sergey. Anna ground her teeth. Salmon. The last time, she had bought salmon, knowing guests would be coming. But today, there was no salmon. Because, damn it, no one had been expected!
“No salmon,” she shouted from the kitchen.
“Shame,” came the disappointed voice. “Is there anything sweet?”
Anna shot her daughter a wild look. Natasha pursed her lips and shook her head—motioning for her to calm down.
“Candies in the bowl,” Anna replied, arranging the chicken on plates. Her hands moved automatically, but in her mind, one thought kept repeating: “Why me? Why always me?”
When they returned to the living room with the trays, the kids had already gotten into the candy. Wrappers were scattered across the carpet, crumbs everywhere.
“Misha, Alyonka,” Anna said, setting the tray on the table. “You need to throw the wrappers in the trash.”
“Come on, Ana,” Vera waved a hand. “Kids will be kids. You can clean up later, no problem.”
“Later clean up.” Of course. Vera wouldn’t be the one cleaning.
Anna sat at the edge of a chair, watching as everyone dug into the food. The kids reached for food, Igor praised the chicken, Sergey asked if there was beer. Valera silently chewed his portion, not looking up.
“Ana, why aren’t you eating?” asked Marina, noticing that the hostess had an empty plate.
“I’m not hungry,” Anna replied.
“Right,” Marina nodded. “Watching your figure. At our age, that’s important.”
Anna gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to eat out of stress and resentment. But no one guessed that. No one cared.
“Valera, is that a new TV?” Igor asked, chewing. “Nice! It’s big. How much did it cost?”
“Not cheap,” Valera answered evasively.
“I want one too,” Igor continued. “But no money. Kids, school, clubs… You know how it is.”
Valera nodded understandingly. Anna turned away. Here it comes. Igor loved to hint at financial difficulties. And Valera, soft and pliable, often fell for these manipulations.
“I got a bonus at work,” Valera said. “So we treated ourselves…”
“Must be nice,” Igor sighed.
Anna stood up sharply.
“Who wants seconds?”
“Me!” the kids shouted in unison.
“And me,” Sergey raised his hand. “And maybe there’s something for beer?”
“No,” Anna cut him off. “We don’t have beer. This isn’t a bar.”
It came out sharper than she intended. Everyone fell silent for a moment but quickly returned to their conversations. No one noticed her irritation. Or didn’t want to notice.
Anna went to the kitchen for more. Her hands were slightly trembling.
“Mum, what’s wrong?” Natasha followed her. “Calm down. They’ll leave soon.”
“When?” Anna asked, looking her daughter in the eyes. “When will they leave? When they’ve eaten everything? Drunk everything? When they’ve exhausted me completely? Look at them! They act like they’re in a restaurant. At least in a restaurant, they pay!”
Natasha placed her hand on Anna’s shoulder.
“Mum, stop… They’re family… That’s how it’s done…”
“By whose standards?” Anna shrugged her hand off. “Since when is my house a free-for-all?”
The doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.
“Who else?” Anna sighed. “I hope not the entire street decided to come over for lunch?”
“I’ll get it,” Natasha volunteered, heading to the door.
Anna stayed in the kitchen, mechanically arranging the leftover chicken on plates. The sounds from the hallway made her raise her head. A familiar female voice… She listened closely.
“Lidia Petrovna!” Anna exclaimed, appearing in the hallway.
At the door stood their neighbor—a short woman in her sixties, with neat hair and attentive eyes. She held a small glass jar in her hands.
“Hello, Anushka! Sorry to bother you. Can you lend me some salt? I’m making dumplings, and I’ve run out. The store is far, and I’ve got high blood pressure…”
Anna smiled for the first time that day.
“Of course, Lidia Petrovna! Come in, I’ll get it for you.”
“Are you having guests?” The neighbor noticed the shoes in the hallway and the voices from the living room. “I’ll be quick, I won’t disturb you.”
“What guests?” Anna muttered quietly as she led Lidia Petrovna to the kitchen. “Leeches.”
Lidia Petrovna raised an eyebrow. Anna shook her head—she’d explain later—and poured large sea salt into the jar.
“Help yourself,” she nodded at the cookie jar. “I baked them myself.”
“I know your baking,” the neighbor said warmly. “You probably kneaded the dough all night.”
“Three hours,” Anna smiled. “But it’s worth it.”
From the living room came Vera’s loud voice:
“Ana! Did you fall asleep in there? We’re waiting for seconds!”
Anna’s face hardened. Lidia Petrovna took a quick look at her and the door to the living room.
“Vera and family?” she asked knowingly. “Again, without warning?”
“And Oleg’s too,” Anna gritted through her teeth.
The neighbor shook her head.
“I’ll go, I won’t disturb you,” she said, taking the jar. “Thanks, you saved me.”
“Ana!” Vera called again. “Where are you? Sergey wants to know if you have ketchup. And the kids want juice!”
Anna flinched. Something inside snapped—a thin thread of patience that had held for years.
“I’m coming!” she shouted, and felt Lidia Petrovna gently squeeze her elbow—either in support or warning.
“Hang in there, neighbor,” she whispered and headed for the exit. “I’ll come by later for tea. If these… leave.”
When Lidia Petrovna left, Anna stood at the kitchen table, staring at the tray of plates. Children’s juice cups were waiting for their turn. In the fridge, there was still a cake from yesterday’s family tea. They’d probably get to it soon.
“Mum?” Natasha peeked into the kitchen. “What are you frozen for? Everyone’s waiting.”
“Really?” Anna looked up, a strange spark in her eyes. “What are they waiting for, Natasha? What else should I bring on a silver platter?”
Her daughter frowned.
“Mum, enough… You’re exaggerating.”
“Exaggerating?” Anna smiled bitterly. “Fine. Take the tray to the living room. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Natasha hesitated, took the tray, and left. Anna took a deep breath, removed her apron, and hung it on the hook. Then she opened the drawer, took a kitchen towel, and carefully wiped her hands. Slowly, deliberately. As if preparing for something important.
The hum of voices filled the living room. The kids were arguing over the TV remote, the adults were discussing some series. No one stopped talking when she entered—only Natasha threw a concerned look at her.
“Ketchup?” Anna asked loudly, stopping in the middle of the room.
“Oh, here comes the hostess!” Sergey grinned. “Yes, if you don’t mind. And something for tea too. You must have something sweet?”
“I want cake!” Mishka, Vera’s son, declared. “With cream! And ice cream!”
“And I want ice cream,” Alyonka chimed in.
“With chocolate!” Mishka clarified. “And with nuts!”
Anna looked around the room. Everywhere were crumbs, wrappers, stains on the tablecloth from sauce. Her living room—her cozy, clean living room—had turned into a mess. And these people… These people looked at her expectantly, as if she were a waitress who had gotten behind on her orders.
“Valera,” she called her husband. “Do you have something to say?”
Her husband looked at her blankly.
“What do you mean, Ana?”
“About hospitality,” she crossed her arms. “About politeness. About how it’s customary to visit.”
An awkward silence hung in the air. Valera adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.
“Ana, maybe not now…”
“When, then?” Her voice rang out, but remained calm. “When, Valera? When can we talk about the fact that I’m tired of being the free cook for everyone who decides to show up uninvited?”
“Ana, what’s wrong with you?” Vera smiled awkwardly. “We’re family. What’s all this ceremony about?”
“Family?” Anna turned to her. “Family respects each other, Vera. Family asks if it’s okay to come. Family offers help. They don’t demand cake with ice cream and ketchup while lounging on the couch!”
“Ana!” Igor exclaimed. “What’s got into you? We’ve been here a million times, and there’s never been a problem.”
“Because I’ve kept quiet,” Anna shot back. “I smiled and set the table. Cooked, cleaned, washed the dishes. And everyone thought that was normal. But you know what?”
She paused. Everyone stared at her with a mix of surprise and outrage. Only Natasha covered her eyes with her hand—either from embarrassment or admiration.
“I’m not a restaurant,” Anna said clearly. “And this is not a buffet. If you want to eat—take the ingredients and cook it yourselves. Or order takeout. Or… just give me a heads-up that you’re coming. Like polite people do.”
The room fell into deafening silence. Even the children stopped talking, looking from Anna to the adults.
Vera was the first to recover: “What are you saying? We’re family! We’ve always visited each other like this!”
“I’m not against family,” Anna replied calmly. “I’m against disrespect.”
“Ana,” Valera interrupted, standing up from the couch, “You’re going too far… This is uncomfortable.”
“Who’s uncomfortable?” Anna turned to her husband. “Are you uncomfortable that I spoke up? Or are they uncomfortable that they’ll have to consider other people’s wishes?”
Marina reached for her bag.
“I think it’s time for us to go,” she said. “Thanks for… your hospitality.”
“Come on, don’t be like that!” Sergey tried to defuse the situation. “Ana’s just tired.”
“I’m not tired,” Anna snapped. “I just want to be respected in my own home. A phone call before a visit— is that really so hard?”
Vera jumped up, her eyes flashing.
“Let’s go, kids! Igor! We’re leaving. I won’t listen to these insults!”
“I’m not insulting anyone,” Anna replied. “I’m just asking for basic politeness.”
The guests quickly gathered their things, casting offended glances at the hostess. Natasha stood by the door frame, her expression a strange mixture of embarrassment and pride.
“You should at least apologize,” Valera mumbled when the guests passed into the hallway.
“For what?” Anna asked calmly.
“For ruining the meeting.”
“I’m not apologizing. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I can’t look Igor in the eye,” Valera sighed. “It’s embarrassing at work.”
“And I’m curious,” Natasha suddenly interjected, “Why are you so worried about what Igor will think, but not about Mum’s feelings?”
Valera looked at his daughter in surprise.
“Are you against me too?”
“I’m not against. I’m for fairness,” Natasha stood beside her mother. “And Mum is right.”
From the hallway came the cold, hurt voices of the departing guests.
“Goodbye,” Anna said politely but firmly. “Next time, call ahead, and we’ll be happy to have you.”
The door slammed shut. Valera collapsed on the couch.
“Well, you made a scene, Anya… Now they’ll be upset.”
“We’ll survive,” Anna began picking up the dirty plates. “Either they’ll learn to respect boundaries, or… let them be upset.”
“Stop with the dishes,” Natasha took the plates from her mother. “I’ll wash them. You rest.”
Anna smiled gratefully at her daughter. Instead of the usual irritation, she felt a strange sense of peace. As if she had released something that had been locked away for a long time.
In the evening, the doorbell rang. Anna opened the door—Lidia Petrovna was standing on the doorstep with a small bag.
“Is it too late? I promised to come for tea. I brought this for tea,” she handed over the bag. “Cottage cheese, I baked it myself.”
“Come in, Lidia Petrovna,” Anna smiled. “It’s never too late for you.”
They settled in the kitchen. Natasha went to her friend’s house, Valera fell asleep in front of the TV. The apartment was quiet and cozy again.
“Well, did the freeloaders leave?” Lidia Petrovna asked, taking a cup of tea.
“They ran away. Like from a fire,” Anna smirked.
“So, you finally told them?”
“I told them straight out that my house is not a restaurant and they need to give me a heads-up before they come.”
“Good for you! It was about time!” Lidia Petrovna nodded approvingly. “And what about your husband?”
“He thinks I overdid it.”
“Hah! It’s easy for him to say. He’s not the one serving everyone,” the neighbor snorted. “I trained my late Stepan right away: if you want guests, you help.”
They fell silent, sipping their tea.
“You know, I thought I’d feel guilty or scared,” Anna finally said. “But I feel so light. Like a weight has been lifted.”
“This is called respecting yourself,” Lidia Petrovna nodded. “It was about time.”
Two weeks passed. The relatives hadn’t called, but Anna wasn’t worried. She felt renewed, as if she had shed a heavy burden she’d carried for years.
On Friday evening, the phone rang. Vera’s name appeared on the screen.
“Hi, Anya,” her voice sounded uncertain. “Igor and the kids were thinking of coming tomorrow… If you’re not busy, of course.”
Anna smiled.
“When are you planning to come? So I know when to prepare.”
“Probably around two,” Vera’s voice carried surprise. “If it’s convenient.”
“Perfectly. I’ll need help with the pie. Can Alyonka help?”
“Of course! And… Oleg’s family wanted to come too…”
“Next time,” Anna said firmly. “Let’s spend time as a family first.”
“Okay,” Vera surprisingly agreed.
Valera came out of the bedroom. “Did Vera call? They want to make up?”
“They asked for permission to come tomorrow,” Anna replied.
“Well, well,” her husband was surprised, “Did they finally get it?”
“Igor came up to me at work today,” Valera confessed. “He said they asked too much from you. And apologized.”
Anna looked at him in surprise. “Seriously?”
“I also said I was to blame – I should have stepped in earlier,” Valera blushed. “You always try for everyone, and we take it for granted. I’m sorry.”
Anna went over to him and lightly kissed his cheek. “Better late than never. Now, help me move the couch. I can’t reach the spot.”
Valera readily got to work, and Anna, watching his efforts, thought that sometimes it’s worth risking appearing rude in order to gain the respect of others. And most importantly—respect for oneself. Let not everyone like this new Anna with her boundaries—but Anna liked her much more than the old one.
The Saturday was sunny. Anna woke up earlier than usual, surprised to realize that for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the urge to rush to the kitchen and start preparing meals in advance. She calmly took a shower, had coffee, and leisurely kneaded dough for the pie—just enough for the family tea.
By lunchtime, the table was set—modestly but tastefully. No extravagance, no fuss.
At exactly two o’clock, the doorbell rang. Vera, Igor, and the kids were standing at the doorstep with a box of cake and a bouquet of autumn asters.
“Come in,” Anna smiled warmly, accepting the flowers.
Vera looked unusually shy. “We’re staying for a little while, as we agreed.”
“How long you need is fine,” Anna replied calmly. “We have the whole day free.”
Igor handed her a packet. “Here, pastries for tea. And some good wine, if you don’t mind.”
Anna noticed how Valera raised his eyebrows in surprise—they had never brought treats before, only demanded.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Just in time.”
When everyone was seated at the table, Anna noticed another change—Vera kept offering to help.
“Shall I put the kettle on? Or wash the dishes afterward?”
“Let’s do it together,” Anna nodded. “After tea.”
Surprisingly, lunch went by easily and casually. Even the kids were calmer—apparently, Vera had spoken to them. No one demanded special dishes, no one scattered crumbs, no one forgot to say “thank you.”
When Vera and Anna were left alone in the kitchen, washing dishes, Vera suddenly said quietly:
“I’m sorry, Anya. I… we really were acting… wrongly. Igor has been scolding me all week for not thinking about you. And you always…”
“It’s fine,” Anna gently interrupted. “I’m not holding a grudge. I just want us to respect each other.”
“You’re so strong,” Vera sighed. “I couldn’t say something so… straightforward.”
“I couldn’t either,” Anna smiled. “I couldn’t for thirty years. But then I realized—it’s better to say the truth once than to carry a grudge for years.”
Vera nodded, thoughtfully wiping a plate. “You know… I’ve been like a hamster on a wheel at my own house. Serving everyone, cooking, cleaning… And never complaining. I thought it was just how it was supposed to be.”
“And now?” Anna asked.
“And now I think it’s time for me to learn how to say ‘no,'” Vera gave a faint smile. “You’ve kind of… woken me up.”
Igor appeared in the doorway. “Ladies, it’s time to go. We promised to visit Mum—she’s upset that we don’t visit her often enough.”
“Let’s go,” Vera wiped her hands on a towel. “Thanks, Anya. For everything.”
In her eyes, Anna saw not just an apology but deep gratitude—as if Anna had helped her see something she hadn’t been able to notice.
When the guests left, the apartment was filled with a pleasant silence. Not the oppressive silence it used to be, when Anna, exhausted by the guests, collapsed with no strength left, but a cozy, calm one.
“You know,” Valera said, hugging his wife’s shoulders, “I liked this. It’s even better. And quieter.”
“I’m glad,” she snuggled into his shoulder.
“You’ve changed,” he noted. “In a good way. You’ve become… more confident.”
“I just finally decided to respect myself,” Anna replied. “And guess what—it benefited the whole family.”
They stood by the window, watching Igor’s car drive away below. Anna thought about how many women like her still can’t bring themselves to say a firm “no.” How many of them endure for years, smiling, serving, never daring to remind others of their rights, desires, boundaries. Maybe her story isn’t so rare. But her decision—to say “I’m not a restaurant, and this is not a buffet”—was the right one for everyone.
Sometimes, one well-timed phrase can change not only your life but also the lives of those around you. Even if at first, that phrase seems harsh or uncomfortable.
“You’re lost in thought,” Valera noted.
“I’m thinking about whether to invite Oleg’s family next weekend,” Anna smiled. “But on one condition—Marina will help with the salads.”
“Are you sure?” Valera smirked.
“Absolutely,” Anna nodded. “It’s time for her to understand that respecting the hostess is not just words.”
The sun was beginning to set, casting the room in warm orange tones. Anna looked at this light and thought that sometimes you just need to open the window to let in fresh air.