Galina gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Snow pelted the windshield of their old Niva, and the wipers could barely cope with the wet clumps sticking to the glass.
“Shouldn’t we at least call the neighbors?” Ivan asked yet again, glancing at his wife. “Let them know we’re on our way.”
“Why?” Galina brushed him off without taking her eyes off the road. “It’s our dacha. Ours. We wanted to go for the holidays, so we’re going. What’s there to call about?”
Ivan let out a quiet sigh. Thirty years of marriage had taught him not to argue when Galina had made up her mind.
And her mind was made up: they would spend New Year’s at the dacha—peace and silence, far from the city bustle. Galina had been planning the trip for a week, making grocery lists and packing warm clothes.
“It still feels kind of strange,” he muttered. “We always warn the Petrovs.”
“What’s strange about it?” Galina snapped, turning her head sharply toward him. “Why should I have to report my plans to the neighbors? It’s my house!”
The dacha emerged around the bend like a phantom in the snowy fog. The small wooden cottage, ringed by apple trees heavy with snow, looked cozy and… oddly lived-in. A thin ribbon of smoke curled from the chimney, and the windows glowed with warm yellow light.
“Gal, look,” Ivan said carefully. “Someone’s there.”
“What?” Galina braked hard at the gate. “That’s impossible!”
“I told you we should’ve called the Petrovs. Maybe they asked someone to keep an eye on the place…”
“For what on earth?” Galina’s voice rose higher with every word. “We never asked them to!”
They climbed out of the car. The snow squeaked underfoot, and the freezing air stung their cheeks. Galina marched toward the porch, while Ivan trailed behind, already expecting trouble.
At the door, Galina stopped dead.
“Vanya,” she whispered. “The key…”
A key was sticking out of the lock. Their key—only it was on the inside.
“Well, there you go,” Ivan said, spreading his hands. “I told you…”
Music drifted from the house—not loud, but clear. Some modern song Galina didn’t recognize at all.
“So what does this mean?” Her voice trembled with anger. “Someone is… living in my house?”
“Gal, calm down. Let’s just find out what’s going on first…”
“Calm down?!” she burst out. “Strangers have turned my own home into a holiday getaway, and I’m supposed to calm down?”
Galina knocked on the door—first softly, then harder and harder.
The music stopped. Footsteps approached, along with muffled voices.
“Who is it?” a young man called from inside.
“Open up! I’m the owner of this house!” Galina shouted.
A pause. Then the sound of a key turning.
The door swung open, and a guy around twenty-five stood in the doorway wearing a knitted sweater. His reddish hair stuck up in every direction, and his eyes were wide with shock.
“Sorry… who are you?” he asked, completely thrown.
Galina felt heat rush to her face.
“What do you mean, who am I?! I’m the owner! This is my house! What are you doing here?”
Behind him appeared a young woman about the same age, with long dark hair and a worried expression.
“Dima, what’s happening?” she asked.
“Exactly!” Galina jumped in. “What’s going on in my house?”
Dmitry, looking completely thrown, scratched the back of his head.
“I’m sorry, but we rented this place for the holidays. We have a contract…”
“A contract?!” Galina blew up. “What contract? I didn’t rent my dacha to anyone! Vanya, are you hearing this?”
Ivan laid a calming hand on his wife’s shoulder.
“Galya, let’s sort this out without shouting. Guys, can you show us what you have?”
The young woman disappeared into the house and returned with her phone.
“Here—look,” she said, holding the screen out. “We answered an ad online. This is the chat, and these are the payment details…”
Galina grabbed the phone, her eyes flying over the messages: a phone number, photos of their dacha, a weekly price… It all looked disturbingly legitimate.
“But I didn’t rent it out,” she repeated, though her voice had lost some of its certainty. “Vanya, read this.”
Ivan studied the conversation and shook his head.
“That’s not our number. And those bank details aren’t ours either.”
“Then where did you get the keys?” Galina demanded.
Dmitry shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.
“They told us the key would be under the doormat. We arrived the day before yesterday—it was right there.”
“Under the doormat?” Galina spun toward her husband. “Vanya, we never leave a key under the mat!”
“Wait,” the girl cut in quickly. “My name is Alyona, and this is Dima. We honestly didn’t realize it was a scam. We paid the money—we have all the proof…”
“What proof?” Galina snorted. “You’re living in my house without my permission! That’s taking matters into your own hands!”
“Galina Mikhailovna, please don’t yell like that,” Ivan said quietly. “You can see they’re shocked too.”
“Not yelling?” Galina’s voice shot up again. “What am I supposed to do—smile? They’ve been here a week, using electricity, burning water, and I’m supposed to be happy about it?”
Alyona suddenly started crying—softly, almost silently, but tears rolled down her cheeks in streams.
“Dima… what do we do now?” she sobbed. “We spent all our money. We told our parents we were leaving for the holidays…”
Dmitry wrapped an arm around her, his face darkening.
“Listen, we get how weird this looks. But we really did pay honestly. Look,” he said, showing a bank statement. “We transferred ten thousand.”
Galina glanced at the amount and whistled despite herself. Ten thousand for their modest little dacha? That was clearly inflated.
“Are you out of your mind paying that much?” she asked, gentler now.
“It was our last money,” Dmitry admitted. “We dreamed of spending New Year’s together, and in the city a rental is even more expensive…”
Ivan cleared his throat.
“And what about the neighbors? The Petrovs—did they see you?”
“Uncle Kolya?” Alyona brightened a little. “Yes! He met us when we were unloading. He said, ‘Finally Galina has guests—this house has been sitting empty.’”
“Petrov knew?” Galina stared. “And he didn’t say anything?”
“He probably assumed you invited us,” Dmitry suggested.
Galina looked at her husband, completely baffled. The whole thing was getting messier by the minute. It was hard to stay angry at the young couple now—they were clearly victims, too.
“Alright,” she said firmly. “Everyone inside. You don’t solve problems freezing on the porch.”
Inside, it was warm and welcoming. The young couple had obviously cared for the place: the floor was swept, the dishes were washed, even the houseplants had been watered.
“You cleaned?” Galina asked, scanning the room in surprise.
“Well… yes,” Dmitry said shyly. “We were basically guests, you know.”
“And we chopped firewood,” Alyona added. “The woodpile ran out, so we made a new one.”
Galina felt her irritation slowly shifting into something else. These two hadn’t “taken over” the house—they’d looked after it.
“Alright then,” she said, sitting at the table. “Tell me everything from the start. How you found the ad, who you messaged, what they promised.”
Dmitry and Alyona exchanged a glance. Then he pulled out his phone and opened the saved chat.
“The listing appeared on Avito a week ago,” he began. “‘Cozy dacha for New Year’s holidays, all amenities, quiet, inexpensive.’ And the photos were exactly your house.”
“Show me,” Galina demanded.
Alyona handed over the phone. Familiar images filled the screen: their veranda, their living room, even the upstairs bedroom.
“Where did they get our photos?” Galina murmured. “We never gave them to anyone…”
“Remember,” Ivan cut in, “Sergey came here with his wife in the summer? They took photos for social media.”
“Sergey?” Galina repeated, skeptical. “He’s family!”
“Doesn’t have to be him,” Dmitry said quickly, trying to soothe her. “Scammers can steal pictures from anywhere. Even from Google images.”
“Go on,” Galina nodded.
“We wrote to the number and they replied fast,” Alyona continued. “The person introduced himself as Ivan Petrovich. Said he was renting out his parents’ dacha. Very polite—he even offered a discount for prepayment.”
“Ivan Petrovich?” Galina echoed, looking at her husband. “Coincidence… or—?”
“Not a coincidence,” Ivan said grimly. “They dug up information about us somehow.”
“And then?” Galina pressed.
“We agreed on a week,” Dmitry said. “He told us to come on December 29. The key would be under the mat. The neighbors were aware, no problems. We transferred the money and came.”
“And the key really was under the mat,” Alyona added. “Exactly like he said.”
Galina turned the phone slowly in her hands, thinking.
“But how could scammers have a key to my house? That’s impossible.”
“Who has a spare?” Dmitry asked.
“Only the Petrovs,” Ivan answered. “We leave one with them, just in case.”
“Then we need to go over there,” Galina said, getting to her feet. “We’ll find out what’s what.”
“Wait,” Alyona stopped her, voice trembling. “What’s going to happen to us? We really didn’t know…”
Galina looked at the girl’s tear-streaked face, at the young man’s helpless expression, and felt her anger soften into pity.
“Listen,” she said more gently. “I understand—you’re victims. But it doesn’t make it easier for us. We planned to spend the holidays here too.”
“Maybe,” Ivan said unexpectedly, “we can find some kind of compromise? The house is big enough…”
“Vanya!” Galina protested. “What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing crazy,” he said with a pacifying shrug. “It’s late, there’s a blizzard outside. They lost their money, our plans are ruined… Maybe we agree for a couple of days, then we decide?”
Alyona looked at Galina with sudden hope.
“We can help around the house,” she blurted. “Dima cooks really well, I can clean. We won’t get in your way, I swear!”
“What kind of circus is this?” Galina flared again. “Strangers living in my home?”
“Mum,” a voice called from the entryway. “We’re here!”
Everyone turned. A tall young man about twenty walked in with a girl on his arm, both in winter jackets, both dragging suitcases.
“Maksim?” Galina gasped. “Son—what are you doing here?”
“We decided to come to the dacha for the holidays,” Maksim grinned. “Lena’s going to celebrate New Year’s with us for the first time. And… who are they?”
“Exactly!” Galina threw up her hands. “Who are they!”
Dmitry gave an awkward little wave.
“Hi. We’re… well, it’s complicated.”
“Very complicated,” Galina confirmed. “Strangers moved into my house, and now you and Lena show up too! Where is everyone supposed to fit?”
Maksim looked from his parents to the young couple, confused.
“I feel like I missed something,” he said slowly. “Dad—explain.”
Ivan gave his son a quick summary, while Galina kept interrupting with indignant comments. Maksim listened, occasionally exchanging looks with Lena.
“So you were scammed,” he concluded, turning to Dima and Alyona. “And you honestly thought you’d rented this place?”
“That’s right,” Dmitry nodded. “We have all the proof.”
“And you, Mom, decided to make it a surprise and came without warning,” Maksim went on. “And we decided to surprise you too.”
“What surprise?” Galina scoffed. “It’s my house! I’ll come when I want!”
Lena, who had been silent until now, said quietly, “Galina Mikhailovna… maybe it’s fate? Everyone gathered for the holidays…”
“Fate?” Galina snapped. “Lena, dear, I’m not in the mood for mysticism right now!”
“Come on, Mom,” Maksim said. “There’s a blizzard and it’s December 30. Where are they supposed to go now? And Lena and I had plans too…”
Alyona suddenly stood up, determined.
“You know what—we’ll leave,” she said, her voice shaking. “We won’t upset anyone else. Dima, pack our things.”
“Alyon, where would we go?” Dmitry asked, stunned. “The bus isn’t until tomorrow morning…”
“I don’t know!” she sobbed. “We’ll sleep at the station, in the car—anywhere!”
“Oh no you won’t!” Galina blurted out, surprising even herself. “I’m not sending anyone out into a storm like this!”
Everyone stared at her.
“What do you mean?” Ivan asked carefully.
Galina fell silent for a second, looking at Alyona’s tearful face. Something inside her shifted.
“Alright,” she said firmly. “Maksim and Lena sleep in the attic like usual. Your father and I—our bedroom. And you,” she nodded at Dima and Alyona, “you take the living room. The sofa pulls out.”
“Mom?” Maksim asked, disbelieving.
“What ‘Mom’?” Galina snapped. “Am I some kind of heartless monster? They got hurt, they lost money… and it’s December!”
“Galina Mikhailovna,” Alyona whispered, “are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” Galina grumbled. “But with rules. You help around the house, clean up after yourselves, and no nonsense. This is still my home.”
“Of course!” Dmitry exclaimed. “Anything!”
“And one more thing,” Galina added sharply. “Tomorrow we go to the police and file a report. Let them find those scammers.”
“Absolutely,” Dmitry agreed.
Maksim broke into a wide smile.
“Mom, I always knew you had a kind heart.”
“No I don’t!” Galina waved him off. “I’m practical. Now—everyone to the table! Lena, get the groceries out. Maksim, light the fireplace. And you two,” she turned to the young couple, “help with dinner. We’re celebrating New Year’s properly!”
Within an hour the house smelled of fried potatoes and homemade pies. Dmitry turned out to be an excellent cook, Alyona set the table deftly, and Maksim and Lena decorated the tree the young couple had bought in the village.
“You know,” Galina said as she poured tea, “maybe it really is fate. It’s been a long time since we celebrated New Year’s all together…”
“All together?” Dmitry asked.
“Of course,” Galina smiled. “If you’re living in my house, that makes you family—temporarily.”
Ivan rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Galya, remember how we met? There was confusion with apartments back then too…”
“I remember,” Galina laughed. “You spent half the day insisting you lived in my dorm room!”
Outside, the blizzard howled, but inside it was warm and bright. Six people who’d been strangers that morning sat at one table, planning how they’d welcome the New Year.
“Thank you,” Alyona said softly. “For believing us.”
“And thank you for watering my flowers,” Galina replied. “It’s been a while since anyone cared for my house like that.”
At midnight they all stepped onto the porch together to send off the old year. The snow had stopped, and stars glittered against the black sky.
“Make a wish,” Lena suggested.
Galina closed her eyes. Let everything be alright, she thought. And let there always be room in our home for good people.
A week later, when everyone had gone their separate ways, the dacha felt too quiet—too empty. And for the first time, Galina considered actually renting it out for the holidays. But only to people she could trust. People like Dima and Alyona.