— “Why should we pay someone when my cousin lives by the sea?” Marina snapped irritably, stuffing summer clothes into the suitcase as if the very idea of renting a place was a personal insult. “It’s absurd!”
Oleg, her husband, sat on the edge of the bed with his laptop, browsing travel sites. He slowly tore his eyes from the screen and squinted at her skeptically.
“She hasn’t invited us, and besides, you’ve barely spoken in the past five years. At the very least, it’s strange to show up with the whole family unannounced.”
“So what?” Marina zipped the suitcase shut with a sound that made it clear the subject was closed. “We’re relatives. Do we need formal invitations for that? It’s not like we get a chance to go to the sea with the whole family every year.”
“Relatives aren’t a hotel with open booking,” Oleg said dryly, turning back to his laptop. His finger lazily scrolled past ads: “apartments by the sea,” “yard amenities,” “prices from 7,000 a day.” He snorted. “Even the ones with the bathroom outside are five and a half a day. Crazy.”
That evening, after the kids were asleep, Marina sat on the couch scrolling absentmindedly through Odnoklassniki. Bright photos of her cousin Larisa stirred a bitter mix of envy, irritation, and a stubborn desire to prove they too deserved a slice of that beautiful life.
On screen—Larisa in a sunhat and sundress sipping coffee on a terrace with a mountain view. Next to her, Igor was grilling meat by the barbecue, and in the background, the water sparkled in a small pool. “A dream house,” Marina thought, lips pressed tight. Under each picture—dozens of likes and comments: “It’s paradise there!” “Invite us over!” “You’re living the dream!” But no family ever seemed to be among those guests.
“Look at their yard,” she said, turning her phone toward her husband. “They could easily fit five people. I’m sure they have a guest room.”
Oleg didn’t even look up from his tea.
“Yeah, with loungers by the pool, a personal chef, and a masseur. We just need to pick our dates.”
“Don’t be sarcastic,” Marina frowned. “We could save forty thousand if we stayed with them. That’s at least a week of free vacation!”
“Do they even know about your plans?” Oleg raised an eyebrow.
Marina slowly set the phone down on the armrest and stared out the window where the night wind stirred the curtain.
“I’ll call tomorrow,” she said curtly.
The next day, around noon, while the kids played on the computer, Marina dialed Larisa’s number. It took a while before she picked up—her voice was cheerful, but a little wary.
The conversation was awkward, stilted—like they were coworkers running into each other after years apart. A bit about the weather, a bit about health, a few general comments about the kids. No warmth.
“How’s the weather in July over there?” Marina asked casually. “We’re thinking of heading to the sea.”
“Oh, July’s great!” Larisa brightened. “Warm but not too hot yet. Perfect!”
Marina pressed her lips together.
“And is housing expensive? Just wondering… You know, with two kids you can’t splurge too much.”
“Well, depends where you look. You can find places for three thousand, or for ten. It depends on the area, amenities…”
Marina waited. One second. Two. But Larisa went on matter-of-factly:
“I can recommend an app for searching. We used it ourselves before moving here. Great filters and reviews.”
Marina nodded into the phone, but inside she was fuming. When the call ended, she threw the phone onto the couch so hard it bounced on the cushions.
“Well?” Oleg called from the kitchen.
“Nothing,” she muttered. “She’s giving me tips like I’m some stranger from a forum. Not a single hint, not even a token ‘come visit sometime’!”
Oleg came in with his coffee and sat opposite her.
“What did you expect? You barely talk to her. No messages, no calls… just a like on a photo every six months.”
Marina turned sharply toward him.
“And remember how Igor stayed with us for three days on his business trip? We didn’t just let him crash—we drove him around, fed him, even went to the store for his medicine! And don’t forget how he ‘thanked’ us—didn’t even bring the kids a candy bar!”
“That was six years ago, Marina. And, by the way, he invited himself. Nobody asked him to come,” Oleg replied calmly.
“Six or sixty—doesn’t matter! We helped, now it’s their turn!” she snapped, grabbing her phone again. “I’ll message Igor. Maybe he’ll get it.”
She crafted the message to Igor like a diplomatic note. First, a few polite phrases: “Hi! How are you? I saw your photos—paradise! We’re thinking of coming to Sochi this summer with the kids. Maybe you can recommend good places to stay?” Not a single word about staying with them, no hint at a free place—though every letter felt like it was written through gritted teeth.
Hours passed before his reply came, making her anticipation boil over.
“Hi! Glad you’re coming. I can check with friends who rent apartments. I know a couple of places where you can save some money.”
Marina read it five times, searching between the lines for the hidden invitation. It wasn’t there. She slammed the phone on the table and stood up, hands clasped behind her back.
“Do they not get my hints? Or are they pretending not to?”
“Maybe they really don’t get it,” Oleg said, looking up from his laptop. “You haven’t told them directly.”
“They don’t have space? Or are they just stingy with it? I know the type—showing off their sunsets online, but won’t invite family over!”
Oleg shut his laptop slowly, realizing arguing was pointless.
“Marina, maybe we should just rent a place. Or go somewhere else—Crimea, for example. I’ve heard it’s nice.”
“No!” she slammed her palm on the table, making a cup jump. “I will not pay strangers when my cousin lives there! That’s… it’s just disrespectful to me.”
Oleg said nothing, but his look said enough: tired, slightly annoyed, and ready to drop the whole trip.
Scrolling angrily through her chat with Igor, Marina muttered, “Save money, he says… Yeah, save it, just not with them!” It wasn’t just annoyance anymore—it was a burning sense of injustice, a grudge for all the times they’d been hospitable in the past.
“Fine,” she said aloud, more to herself than to her husband. “I’ll call Larisa tomorrow. Let her say it to my face.”
The next morning, before the kids woke up, she called Larisa. Her heart pounded, palms sweaty. She stared at the screen before pressing “call.” On the fourth ring, Larisa answered, voice still husky from sleep.
“Hi, Marina… Is something wrong?”
“Larisa, I wanted to ask…” Marina took a deep breath, like diving into icy water. “We were thinking… Well, we planned to stay with you for a couple of weeks this summer. You know how it is—our salaries aren’t big, and paying tens of thousands for rent is too much. We wouldn’t be any trouble, the kids are well-behaved…”
Silence. Not the polite kind, but the kind that says everything without words. Then Larisa spoke carefully:
“Marina… Our parents are here all summer. Dad’s recovering from surgery, Mom’s taking care of the granddaughter. And the upstairs bedroom’s still under renovation. Honestly, the house isn’t very comfortable right now.”
Marina clenched her jaw.
“What, you have only one room? We’re not aristocrats—we can sleep on a mattress. It’s not about comfort.”
“It’s not about space,” Larisa’s voice was cool, distant. “It’s just really not a good time. We’re barely managing as it is. Noise, guests—it’s all too much. I’m sorry, but…”
“When will it be a good time then? Should we book September? Or next year?”
“I can’t promise anything right now,” Larisa’s tone had the edge of tired irritation. “If you want to come to the sea, it’s better to rent a place. I’m not saying no out of spite—we just really can’t take guests.”
They said a clumsy goodbye—half-hearted “we’ll keep in touch” and “we’ll meet soon.” Marina stared at the blank screen for a few seconds, as if willing it to light up again. It didn’t. Instead, hot tears ran down her cheeks—not just from hurt, but from humiliation. Her request had been refused. She had been refused.
When Oleg came home, one look told him the call hadn’t gone well.
“What happened?” he asked gently, putting his arm around her.
“They humiliated me, Oleg. Just refused. No hint of sympathy. As if I’m some beggar asking for a loan, not a roof over my head for a couple of weeks.”
“I told you…”
“Don’t! Don’t say ‘I told you so.’ Just… that’s it. No trip. We’ll save up and rely only on ourselves. No one else.”
That evening, they gathered the kids in the living room. Marina tried to keep her voice steady.
“Kids, we’re not going to the sea this year… But next year—we’ll make it happen. We’ll pay for everything ourselves.”
The kids were quiet for a moment. Then the younger one asked:
“Can we go camping instead? With a tent? To that lake from last year?”
“Of course,” Oleg smiled. “It’ll be even better than the city with the sea. And it’ll all be ours.”
Marina forced a smile. She felt empty, but deep inside a small, hard resolve formed: she wouldn’t ask anyone for anything again.
Meanwhile, in Sochi, at a seaside café, Larisa and Igor sat at a table with a view of the water. The sunset turned the sea orange-pink.
“Maybe we should have invited them?” Larisa said quietly, looking away. “They are family. The kids are small. Maybe they really were struggling.”
“And then all the relatives will come, one by one?” Igor replied. “Marina’s first. Then your aunt with her dog? Your cousin with his wife and three kids? Did we buy this house to turn it into a hostel?”
He sipped his coffee, then added firmly, without malice:
“We worked so hard to buy this place. Years. Stress. Loans. We paid for it ourselves. This is our home, and we decide who comes in.”
Larisa nodded silently. She had loved her cousin once—back when they were teenagers, laughing through the night, sharing secrets. But now… there was nothing left behind the blood tie. No trust. No warmth.
“It’s just a shame it turned out this way,” she said at last, her voice quiet.
“Boundaries matter,” Igor said. “Especially when all that’s left is the blood tie.”
The evening breeze brought the scent of the sea and grilled calamari from the next table. Larisa looked out at the horizon, where the sun was sinking into the water, and thought maybe those were the truest words she’d ever heard.