Karina came back from work at seven on the dot, as usual. The August heat was easing, but the apartment was still stuffy. She kicked off her shoes by the door and headed to the bedroom to change. It had been a hard day—the travel agency where Karina worked as a manager was swamped with clients at the tail end of vacation season.
When she opened the wardrobe, Karina froze. On the shelves where her summer dresses and blouses usually lay, there were now neatly folded men’s shirts. Navy, white, plaid. Next to them, a stack of jeans, sweatpants, T-shirts with odd prints.
Karina rubbed her eyes. Maybe she was seeing things from fatigue? But no—strange clothes were hanging on the rail, too. A leather jacket, a gray blazer, a windbreaker in a bright lime green. They clearly didn’t belong to Denis—her husband had a completely different style and was a size smaller.
She stepped back from the wardrobe and looked around. Everything else in the bedroom was in its place—photos on the dresser, a vase of dried wildflowers on the nightstand, a throw draped over the chair by the window. Karina went out into the hallway and immediately caught sight of a pair of massive men’s boots, size 45. Beside them stood a black duffel bag with a big sports-brand logo.
From the kitchen came the sound of the TV. Karina headed there, determined. Denis sat at the table, buried in his phone. The evening news was on, but he clearly wasn’t watching—his fingers flew over the smartphone screen.
“Denis,” Karina stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
Her husband looked up and gave a strained smile.
“Hi, honey. How was your day?”
“The day was fine. But the evening is starting off strange. Whose things are in our closet?”
Denis set his phone aside and cleared his throat. Karina knew that tell—he always did it when he was about to say something unpleasant.
“They’re Roman’s things.”
“Your brother’s?” Karina raised an eyebrow. “And what are your brother’s things doing in our bedroom closet?”
“Well, you see…” Denis stood and went to the fridge, obviously stalling. “Mom called this morning. Roman’s having a housing issue.”
“How serious?”
“He had to vacate his rental on short notice. The owners came back from abroad earlier than planned. And he hasn’t found a new place yet. Mom asked if we could take him in for a while.”
Karina felt tension rising from her chest to her throat.
“And you, of course, agreed. Without even asking me.”
“Karish, what was I supposed to say to my mom? That we’re turning down my own brother?”
“You could have said you’d discuss it with me. That you’d call back in an hour. Anything besides immediately saying yes!”
Denis took a bottle of water from the fridge and gulped a few mouthfuls. Karina waited, but he said nothing.
“Okay, let’s take it step by step,” she said, sitting on a stool. “When is Roman planning to move in?”
“Planning?” Denis gave a nervous huff. “Karina, he’s already brought his things. While you were at work.”
“What?!”
“Well, why drag it out? The guy’s in a bind. He has to be at work early tomorrow, and he needed to stash his stuff somewhere.”
Karina stood up so abruptly the stool wobbled.
“So you let your brother into our apartment, let him spread his junk all over our closet, and didn’t even bother to warn me?”
“I wanted to call, but I got swamped at work. Then I thought—we’d talk it over calmly this evening.”
“Calmly?” Karina laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Denis, we live in a one-room apartment! Where exactly is your brother supposed to sleep?”
“On the pull-out couch in the living room. We barely use it.”
Their living room was combined with the kitchen—popular in new builds. The pull-out couch faced the TV and was where they hosted the occasional guest. Karina pictured Roman camping there and felt downright ill.
“Denis, your brother is thirty-two. He’s a grown man with a decent programmer’s salary. Why can’t he get a hotel?”
“Why waste money on a hotel when he has family? Besides, it won’t be for long.”
“And how long is ‘not for long’?”
“Two weeks, tops. He’s already looking.”
Karina went to the window and looked into the courtyard. Down on the playground, young mothers strolled with their children. A normal, peaceful life. And in her home—an uninvited guest for an indefinite time.
“You know what annoys me the most?” Karina turned back to her husband. “Not even the fact that your brother will be living here. It’s that you made the decision for both of us. As if my opinion doesn’t matter at all.”
“Don’t dramatize. It’s temporary.”
“Temporary like last time, when your mother stayed for three months instead of the promised week.”
“Mom is different.”
“Yes, different. At least then you warned me a day in advance.”
The doorbell rang. Denis hurried to open it with the enthusiasm of a man welcoming rescue. Roman stood on the threshold—tall, broad-shouldered, slightly stubbled, and tired-looking. He was carrying a pizza and a bag of beer.
“Hi, Karinka!” Roman walked in like he owned the place. “Thanks for putting me up. I brought dinner so I wouldn’t put you out.”
Karina nodded, not trusting her voice. Roman went to the kitchen and set the pizza boxes on the table.
“Want some?” her brother-in-law asked, opening the first box. “Four Cheese and pepperoni.”
“Thanks, I’m not hungry.”
Karina went to the bedroom and shut the door. She took out her phone and texted a friend: “Sveta, can I come over after work tomorrow? I need to vent.”
The reply came instantly: “Of course. What happened?”
Karina started typing, then deleted it. Too much to explain. Laughter came from the other room—the brothers were chatting animatedly. She went to the closet and pushed Roman’s things aside. Her favorite summer dress was shoved into a corner, crushed under someone else’s shirts.
The evening dragged on endlessly. Karina tried to read in the bedroom but couldn’t focus. The brothers watched soccer, shouting at the TV now and then. Then they spent ages discussing some project Roman was working on.
Around eleven, Karina went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. On the shelf next to her cosmetics there were now a men’s deodorant, a razor, and a shower gel with a harsh scent. A stranger’s towel hung on the hook.
“Denis!” Karina called.
Her husband appeared in the bathroom doorway.
“What?”
“Has Roman already taken over the bathroom, too?”
“Well, the guy has to keep his stuff somewhere.”
“And asking if he could put his containers next to my cosmetics—was that so hard?”
“Karina, don’t nitpick over trifles.”
“Trifles? Denis, I can’t freely use my own closet or my bathroom!”
“Shh!” He glanced back. “Roman will hear.”
“Let him! Maybe it’ll prick his conscience.”
Denis closed the bathroom door and lowered his voice.
“Karina, please. Roman’s going through a rough patch. He’s had problems at work, now this housing mess. Let’s not make it worse.”
“And my stress doesn’t count?”
“It does. But it’s not for long. Just bear with it a bit.”
Karina was about to retort when Roman’s voice drifted in from the living room:
“Deniska, where are you? They’re showing a penalty!”
Her husband slipped out, leaving Karina alone. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. A tired face, a dim gaze. She had just turned thirty-five, yet felt much older.
Sleeping that night was impossible. Roman watched TV until two in the morning—the sound seeped in even through the closed bedroom door. Then he paced the apartment for ages, clattering dishes in the kitchen. Karina lay there with her eyes open, counting the minutes. Beside her, Denis snored peacefully—nothing could wake him.
In the morning Karina got up before the alarm. Her head hummed from lack of sleep. Roman was already at the kitchen table—in sweatpants, sipping coffee and reading the news on his tablet.
“Good morning!” her brother-in-law chirped. “You’re up early.”
“Force of habit,” Karina said coolly, reaching for her mug.
The mug was dirty. So were all the others. She opened the dishwasher—empty. All of last night’s dishes were piled in the sink.
“Roman, you said you’d do the dishes.”
“Oh, right! Forgot. I’ll wash them now.”
“No need, I’ll do it myself.”
Karina turned on the water and began scrubbing plates with fierce energy. Roman sat at the table, showing no inclination to help.
“Listen, Karina,” he said suddenly. “I know I’m causing you inconvenience. I really will try to find a place quickly.”
“Mm-hmm,” Karina didn’t turn around.
“By the way, a friend’s coming over tonight. Needs me to take a look at his laptop, it’s busted. You don’t mind, do you?”
Karina snapped off the water and spun around.
“What the hell are your brother’s things doing in my closet?” she couldn’t hold back.
Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise and set the tablet aside.
“Karina, I thought Denis cleared everything with you. Mom told me you two were fine with it.”
“Mom told you?” Karina dried her hands on a towel. “Your mother doesn’t even know where I work, and she’s already deciding who gets to live in my apartment?”
“Look, I didn’t mean to cause problems…”
“Too late. You already have.”
Karina walked out of the kitchen, leaving Roman perplexed. Denis was still asleep in the bedroom. She decided not to wake him—the talk with her brother-in-law mattered more. Karina opened the closet and began methodically taking Roman’s things out. Shirts, jeans, T-shirts—she folded everything neatly on the bed.
From the hallway Denis’s voice came:
“Karina, what are you doing?”
He stood in the bedroom doorway, rumpled from sleep.
“Packing your brother’s things.”
“Why?”
“Because Roman isn’t going to live here.”
Denis came closer and tried to take her hand, but Karina pulled away.
“Karina, let’s talk calmly. Don’t be so harsh.”
“Harsh?” She turned. “Denis, you moved your brother into our apartment behind my back. That’s not harsh?”
“I told you—circumstances…”
“Everyone has circumstances. That’s no reason to turn my home into a hostel.”
Karina pulled Roman’s duffel out from under the bed and started putting his clothes into it. Denis stood there, at a loss for words. Roman peered in from the kitchen.
“Guys, maybe don’t fight because of me? I’ll find somewhere else.”
“Excellent,” Karina zipped the bag. “The sooner, the better.”
She carried the bag to the hallway and set it by the front door. Then she brought out Roman’s boots and placed them neatly beside it. Next she went to the bathroom and gathered all his things into a bag.
“Karina, don’t be childish,” Denis tried to take the bag. “He has nowhere to go!”
“He has a mother with a three-room apartment. He has friends. He has a programmer’s salary that can cover any hotel. There are always options.”
She walked past her husband and set the bag next to the duffel. She pulled out her phone and found Roman’s number.
“Hello, Roman? Your things are packed and by the door. I’m waiting for you to take them.”
“Karina, I’m in the kitchen…”
“I know. But I want it on the record. Take your things and find other housing.”
Roman came into the hallway, looked at the bag, at Karina, at his brother.
“Denis, you said everything was settled.”
“I thought Karina would understand…”
“Karina understands perfectly well,” she cut in. “She understands that in her own home no one takes her into account. That ends right now.”
Karina pulled up another number—her mother-in-law’s. Valentina Sergeyevna answered on the third ring.
“Karinochka, good morning! How are you two? Has Roman settled in?”
“Good morning, Valentina Sergeyevna. Roman is about to pick up his things and leave.”
“Leave? But how… Denis said you agreed…”
“Denis had no right to speak for me. This is my apartment, bought before the marriage. And decisions about who lives here are mine alone.”
Silence on the line. Then her mother-in-law cleared her throat.
“Karina, but Roman has nowhere to go. It’s a force majeure.”
“You have a three-room apartment. Why can’t he stay with you?”
“Well… I was planning a renovation. Dust, dirt…”
“Planning—or already started?”
“Planning… But…”
“Then he can live there for now. Or let’s be honest—you just don’t want the inconvenience. Easier to dump it on me.”
“Karina, how are you speaking to me!”
“Respectfully, but directly. I value you as my husband’s mother. But decisions about my home are made by me. Sorry if that sounds harsh.”
Karina hung up. Denis stood open-mouthed; Roman shifted awkwardly next to his bag.
“Do you realize what you’ve done?” Denis finally got out. “Mom will be offended now!”
“Your mother will learn she can’t manipulate me anymore. That’s a useful lesson.”
“Karina, I really didn’t want any trouble,” Roman said. “Mom told me it was all arranged. I’d never have imposed if I’d known…”
“I believe you,” Karina nodded. “Roman, nothing personal. But I have principles. No one lives in my home without my consent.”
Her brother-in-law picked up the bag and took the bathroom things.
“Denis, I’m sorry it turned out like this. I’ll go to Mom’s.”
“Roma, wait…” Denis shot his wife a pleading look. “Karina, can’t he at least stay today? The day’s just started.”
“No. Roman is leaving now. And leave the keys on the table.”
“What keys?” Roman asked, surprised.
“To the apartment. Denis gave you a set yesterday—I saw.”
Roman took the key ring from his pocket and set it on the little table by the mirror. Denis looked as if he’d been betrayed.
“Karina, this is cruel. He’s my brother!”
“And I’m your wife. But somehow your brother’s opinion matters more to you.”
“That’s not true!”
“Really? Then why didn’t you ask me before moving Roman in? Why did your mother discuss it with you and not with me?”
Denis said nothing. Roman coughed.
“I’ll go. Sorry again.”
He left, closing the door softly behind him. Karina went to the kitchen and started making coffee. Her hands trembled slightly—the adrenaline was still pumping. Denis followed her.
“Happy now? You made a scene out of nothing.”
“Out of nothing?” Karina whirled around. “Denis, you moved someone into my apartment without my knowledge! You handed out keys! You let him take over my closet!”
“Our closet.”
“No, mine. As is all the furniture here. As is the apartment itself. I don’t bring that up because I consider us a family. But family means making decisions together.”
“I was trying to do the right thing…”
“For whom? For Roman—yes. For your mother—yes. For yourself—yes, no need to argue with Mom. And for me?”
Denis sat down and cradled his head in his hands.
“What now? Mom’s going to call and throw fits…”
“Let her call. You’ll tell her your wife is the mistress of her own home. And that she makes the decisions here.”
“You know what Mom’s like.”
“I do. But her temperament is not my cross to bear. Denis, I love you. But I won’t let my life turn into an annex of your mother’s house.”
Denis’s phone rang—“Mom” lit up on the screen. He looked at Karina; she nodded—answer it.
“Hi, Mom… Yes, Roman left… No, Karina’s right… Mom, listen…”
Karina didn’t stick around for the rest. She took her coffee and went to the bedroom. She sat on the bed and took a sip. The hot drink pleasantly burned her throat. She looked at the closet—her clothes were still shoved into the corner. Karina stood and began putting her dresses and blouses back in place.
Ten minutes later Denis peeked into the bedroom.
“Mom’s hysterical. Says you’re destroying the family.”
“I’m setting boundaries. That’s different.”
“She said she won’t come over anymore.”
“That’s a pity. But if the price of her visits is my having no say in my own home, then let her stay away.”
Denis came in and sat beside her.
“Karina, maybe you overreacted? We could have handled this more gently.”
“We could have—if you’d talked to me in the first place. But you chose to present me with a fait accompli. I responded in kind.”
“So what now?”
“Now you know—no one will live here without my consent. Not your brother, not your mom, not a second cousin from Voronezh. No one.”
“And if you had agreed? If I had asked?”
Karina thought for a moment.
“Maybe. For a couple of days. With clear rules and an end date. But we’ll never know, because you didn’t ask.”
That same evening Roman texted: “Karina, sorry again. I rented an apartment through an agency. Thanks for the wake-up call—you can’t rely on family to solve everything.”
Karina showed Denis the message.
“See? Roman found a place in one day. And you said he had nowhere to go.”
“It’s probably expensive.”
“That’s his adult choice. Just like yours—either learn to respect your wife’s opinion or keep placating your mother.”
A week later Valentina Sergeyevna did call Karina. The conversation was brief.
“Karina, I’ve been thinking… Perhaps I was wrong. I should have asked you directly.”
“Thank you, Valentina Sergeyevna. I appreciate that.”
“But you could have been softer. Roman wasn’t to blame.”
“I agree. But softness is often taken for weakness. Now everyone knows—I’m not weak.”
From then on, there were no more uninvited guests in Karina’s apartment. Denis learned to consult his wife before making decisions that affected their life together. And when Valentina Sergeyevna came to visit, she always called ahead to ask if it was convenient.
Karina, for her part, understood the main thing—there’s nothing shameful about defending your boundaries. What’s shameful is letting others decide how you should live in your own home.