Elena was rubbing her hands with antiseptic after finishing the last session of therapeutic massage. The patient — an elderly woman suffering from sciatica — nodded gratefully while paying for the procedure. Elena carefully folded the money into her wallet. Every bill counted: tomorrow she needed to buy groceries, the day after — pay for Masha’s swimming lessons, and in a week — sneakers for Dimka, who had grown over the summer and now complained that his old ones were tight.
“Thank you so much,” said the patient, pulling on her sweater. “Will you be here at the same time tomorrow?”
“Of course, Nina Pavlovna. See you then.”
Elena saw the woman to the door and locked it behind her. The apartment was unusually quiet — her husband Sergey was at work, the kids were at training. She went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Opening the fridge, she froze.
Empty. Almost empty.
Last night, the fridge was full — she had gone shopping after her clinic shift, spending a good hour and a half buying groceries. She bought everything the kids liked: yogurts, fruits, quality sausage, cheese, vegetables for salads. Meat for cutlets. Chicken for soup.
Now there were only potatoes, pasta, and bread left.
Elena slowly closed the fridge door. Her mind immediately cleared — Tolik’s family, her husband’s brother, had come over again. The third time this week.
A month ago, Tolik showed up with his wife Sveta and two kids. He sat at the table, twisting his cap in his hands and explaining that he’d been laid off. “Crisis, you know,” he said, staring at the floor. “Half the factory got fired.” Sveta was silent, just nodding, while the kids — about seven and eight — timidly stayed close to their mother.
Elena sincerely felt sorry for her husband’s brother back then. She set the table with what was at home, even opened a jar of jam she’d brought from Abkhazia. Sergey comforted his brother, promised to help find a job, to lend money if things got really tough. The evening passed warmly, like family.
But then the visits became more frequent. And every time Tolik’s family came, it was exactly when Elena was not home — during the day when she worked at the clinic. Sergey couldn’t say no to his brother, and it was awkward — the man was unemployed, the kids were hungry.
Only it was her own children who remained hungry.
Masha and Dima came back from training tired and hungry, but at home they found pasta with butter or potatoes. The fruits were eaten, yogurts drunk, sausage and cheese gone. “Mom, where are the apples you bought yesterday?” Masha asked. “Mom, can I have another yogurt?” Dima asked, looking into the empty fridge.
Elena explained to her husband, but he just shrugged: “Len, they’re hungry. Tolik’s looking for a job but hasn’t found one yet. We’re family, we have to support each other.” He added guiltily, “I didn’t think they’d eat that much. Next time, I’ll warn you…”
But warnings weren’t enough. Elena started buying more groceries, spending more money. She took extra shifts at the clinic, scheduled more patients for massages. She came home exhausted, and the fridge was empty again.
That day she was especially tired. The morning at work was chaotic, the clinic shift full of difficult patients and complicated cases. After lunch, three massages in a row. Her hands ached, her back hurt. The last patient canceled at the last moment, so Elena decided to get home early and make the kids a proper dinner.
Climbing the stairs, she heard voices from her apartment. The familiar laughter of Sveta, Tolik’s voice. The children were shouting in the kitchen.
Elena took out her keys. In the hallway stood strangers’ sneakers and jackets. In the kitchen, Tolik’s family was sitting at her table. On the table were her plates, her groceries. Sveta was slicing the sausage — the expensive one Elena bought for the kids’ breakfast. Tolik was spreading butter on bread, the kids devouring yogurts.
“Oh, Lena!” Sveta greeted cheerfully without stopping the slicing. “We thought you’d come only in the evening. Tolik said, let’s come to Sergey’s for a bite. It’s empty at home and the kids are hungry.”
Elena stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the scene. Tolik — a big man of thirty-five with hands like shovels — was sitting at her table eating her food. And somewhere at the gym, her Dima was thinking after boxing training that home awaited his mom’s borscht and cutlets.
“Where’s Sergey?” she asked quietly.
“At work,” Tolik answered, surprised. “Why?”
Something inside Elena clicked. Like a switch turning off.
“Hosting a buffet here for your relatives at my expense?” Her voice was cold and sharp. “Get out of my kitchen right now.”
Tolik choked, Sveta froze with the knife in her hand. The kids looked at their aunt fearfully.
“Lena, what’s wrong?” Tolik tried to smile placatingly. “We’re family…”
“Family?” Elena stepped toward the table. “Family is when my children come home hungry because strangers ate their food. Family is when I work fourteen hours a day to buy groceries, and some big layabout brings his family here to pig out!”
“Elena, calm down,” Sveta put down the knife. “We didn’t mean…”
“Didn’t mean?” Elena laughed bitterly. “For a month you didn’t mean! Every week you come when I’m not home and eat what I earned for my children. Tolik, do you have hands and feet? A head on your shoulders? Then go work! Don’t just leech off your brother!”
Tolik turned red, began mumbling about the crisis and lack of jobs. Elena didn’t listen. She looked at the empty yogurt containers, the eaten-up sausage, the crumbs on her table.
“Enough,” she said wearily. “Enough. Get out with your bunch. And I don’t want to see your face here again until you find a job.”
“You’ve gone mad,” Sveta said offended, standing up. “You’ve become greedy.”
“Greedy?” Elena stepped up to her. “Greedy is when your kids eat other people’s food, and your husband won’t lift a finger to feed the family. Greedy is when you stuff yourselves and other children go hungry. That’s greed.”
Tolik’s family hurriedly started packing. The kids grabbed their jackets, Sveta washed her hands with a hurt look. Tolik muttered something about family ties and hard hearts.
“By the way,” Elena added as they were leaving, “return the apartment keys. Forgot to mention.”
The door slammed. Elena was left alone in the kitchen. She sat at the table and rested her head on her hands. Tired. So tired she didn’t even have the strength to be angry anymore.
An hour later Sergey came home. He saw his wife at the empty table and realized something had happened.
“Len, what’s going on? Tolik called, said you kicked them out…”
Elena looked up. She looked at her husband — a good, kind man but too soft.
“Sergey, sit down. Let’s talk.”
He sat across from her, watching cautiously.
“I work fourteen hours a day,” Elena began calmly. “Clinic during the day, massages in the evening. Sometimes on weekends too. You know why?”
Sergey was silent.
“So that our children lack nothing. So they have sneakers, lessons, good food. So Masha can swim and Dima can box. So they grow healthy and never have to count pennies for milk.”
“I understand,” Sergey said quietly.
“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t have let your brother eat our children’s food for a whole month. I’m not against helping relatives, Sergey. But there’s a difference between help and parasitism.”
Elena stood up, opened the fridge, showed her husband the empty shelves.
“This is the result of your kindness. The kids will come back from training now, and there’s nothing to feed them because Uncle Tolik and his family came again to eat at my expense.”
Sergey lowered his head guiltily.
“Len, I didn’t know it was this serious…”
“Now you know.” She sat back down. “I’m not going to work for your brother. He has hands, feet, and a head — let him go work. Janitor, loader, security guard — doesn’t matter. But he should feed his family, not me.”
Sergey nodded. For the first time in many years of marriage, he saw his wife so determined, so uncompromising. And he understood she was right.
“What should I do?” he asked.
“Call your brother. Tell him you won’t invite them for lunch anymore. If he wants to come, he must first find a job.”
The children came home that evening. Masha — messy from the pool, Dima — red-faced from boxing. Hungry, tired, but happy.
“Mom, what’s for dinner?” Masha asked, peeking into the fridge.
“I’ll make something tasty now,” Elena said, taking money out of her wallet. “Sergey, go to the store. Buy everything on this list.”
She quickly wrote a list: meat, vegetables, milk, bread, fruits. Everything needed for a proper family dinner.
Sergey took the list and money. At the door, he turned back.
“Len, I called Tolik. Told him as you said.”
“What did he say?”
“At first he was offended. Then he said he’s going to apply for a security job at a mall next week. Sveta found a job at the local store.”
Elena nodded. Good. Finally.
A week later, Tolik really got a security job. Sveta started her first shifts. They stopped coming over to eat uninvited. And when they visited on weekends or holidays, they brought something for the table: cake, fruit, candies for the kids.
Elena stopped working fourteen hours a day. She kept only her main clinic job and a couple of regular massage patients. There was enough money — when you don’t have to feed extra mouths, the family budget stops bursting at the seams.
The kids had normal dinners again. The fridge was full again. And Elena realized that sometimes you need to learn to say “no” — even to relatives, even to close people. Because kindness shouldn’t become a sacrifice for your own children.
Everyone has their own limit of patience. The main thing is to find it in time and not be afraid to protect it.