— You’re not living here anymore. You can go back to your mother, move into a dormitory, or even live under the heating pipes for all I care!
If you don’t understand things the right way, then I won’t waste time begging or trying to teach you anymore.
Don’t expect a single penny from me—consider that chapter closed.
Ekaterina was only nine years older than her stepdaughter.
Katya fell in love with Konstantin at first sight—a mature, established man who immediately won her heart.
Though there was a significant age gap—seventeen years—it barely showed.
Konstantin looked young, kept fit with gym visits, and lived a healthy lifestyle.
He brought his wife into a spacious four-room apartment. For the first couple of years, they lived together in harmony and mutual respect.
Problems began when Konstantin’s daughter from his previous marriage, Zarina, decided she wanted to move in. The nineteen-year-old arrived with her suitcase and dropped a bombshell:
“Dad, I’m done with Mom! I can’t stand living with her—she’s always nagging, constantly unhappy, shouting for no reason, and forbids me from seeing Dima!”
“I’m staying with you. I hope your new wife won’t mind?”
Katya had met Zarina before the wedding and had a less than favorable impression. Zarina treated her stepmother like an equal, addressing her informally, often rude, and trying to put Katya in her place.
Katya wasn’t thrilled by this, but since the apartment belonged to Konstantin, she had no right to object.
From the start, the relationship between stepmother and stepdaughter was tense. After living there a few months, Zarina brought her boyfriend, Dima, into the mix.
“Dad, meet my boyfriend, Dima. We’re going to live together. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Well, actually, yes I do,” Konstantin replied. “Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to be living openly with a man, especially under my roof?”
“Dad, I’m nineteen,” Zarina snapped. “I’m an adult now! Consider Dima your son-in-law—we’ll get married after I finish school.”
Konstantin asked about Dima’s age, job, and plans.
“It’s rude to ask,” Zarina shot back. “He’s twenty-five, also a student—started college later than me.”
“Dad, I hope you understand. I won’t abandon him. If you don’t accept him here, I’m moving out to be with him!”
Konstantin didn’t want unnecessary drama and reluctantly agreed to welcome Dima.
But he soon regretted it. Neither Zarina nor Dima seemed interested in working.
They spent their days in bed, glued to phones and TV, doing no chores, leaving dirty dishes everywhere.
Katya never saw Zarina wash a single plate or clean up after herself or Dima.
The couple came home from work to find empty, greasy pots on the stove.
“Zarina,” Konstantin once exploded, “do you even think about me?”
“What do you mean, Dad?” she replied innocently. “What do you expect?”
“I come home exhausted and hungry. Katya cooked a whole day’s worth of meals yesterday. I looked in the pot and it was empty. Not only did you eat everything, but you left dirty dishes! Don’t you have any shame?”
“Oh, sorry, Dad, for eating you out of house and home,” Zarina snapped back sarcastically. “Should I ask permission to eat in my own house? Let Katya cook more! We came back from college, ate, then got hungry again.”
“And what’s with the small pots? Are they even enough for four adults?”
“Fine, that’s clear. But why are the dishes still dirty? Why don’t you clean up after yourselves?”
“Oh Dad, I have a headache today! Probably magnetic storms,” Zarina lied. “I get dizzy standing up. Next time, I promise we’ll clean up! But today, really, I can’t.”
Zarina had no intention of helping Katya with the household. Despite Konstantin’s complaints, she lived as if they had a maid, cook, and laundry woman at home.
She and Dima threw their clothes in the laundry basket, and Katya often found underwear mixed in when sorting the wash once a week.
After Katya complained, Konstantin scolded Zarina, and she started washing her and Dima’s clothes separately.
Konstantin was supporting both his daughter and his prospective son-in-law. Zarina constantly asked him for money—snacks, transport, entertainment.
He tolerated it for a while, but when Zarina asked for cash for a movie again, he snapped:
“Listen, if you’ve grown up to be a ‘wife material,’ go get a job! You’re going to get married—do you expect me to support you both forever?”
“No, Zarina! I’m not going to carry you and Dima on my back till my grave. You have two weeks to find work. Katya and I have other expenses.”
Apparently, Zarina passed this demand on to Dima. He pretended to attend interviews but never got hired.
A month later, Konstantin’s apartment gained a dog.
“Dad, we bought her for a lot of money,” Zarina explained. “Mom gave me the money. It’s a great business!”
“Do you even realize how expensive purebred puppies are? I’ll put up an ad online, find a stud dog, and soon we’ll be rich!”
Katya was skeptical and finally confronted her stepdaughter:
“Zarina, running your own business is fine, but I have some questions.
Who’s going to care for the dog? Frankly, you don’t even take care of yourselves.
You haven’t cleaned your room once, the bed is never made, and you’re too lazy to pull a blanket over the duvet.
Before Konstantin reminded you, you made me do your laundry. Now you wash your clothes separately.
You don’t cook or clean the dishes!
And if you think I’m going to take care of the dog—forget it! I’m not cleaning up after her!”
“No one asked you,” Zarina snapped, “we’ll handle it ourselves. I’ll train her to go out, buy a leash.
She doesn’t need cooking—she eats dog food just fine.
I’m sick of you and Dad nagging me over a slice of bread! I want my own money!”
Konstantin warned:
“If your dog messes on my carpet once, I’ll throw her out immediately! Katya won’t clean up after her.”
Zarina and Dima’s plan backfired spectacularly—the dachshund gave birth to six puppies, but they only sold one. The rest stayed with the mother.
Konstantin argued with his daughter daily:
“Why did you bring a kennel into my apartment? You promised but never cleaned after the adult dog, and now you don’t care about the puppies!”
“Get rid of them right away! Give them to good homes, at least.”
“No way,” Zarina huffed, “this is money! Clients will come eventually. I keep renewing the ads.”
“They’ll grow faster than you can sell them,” Konstantin yelled. “No one wants grown dogs!”
“Zarina, you’re playing with fire! My patience is running out, and you’ll be out of here with your animals soon!”
The situation hit rock bottom when Konstantin came home one day and froze: the entire light cream Persian rug was covered in piles. The smell was unbearable.
Katya came behind him, sighed loudly, and marched into Zarina’s room.
She didn’t care that Konstantin would overhear—they had reached her limit.
Zarina and her boyfriend were lying on the bed, scrolling on their phones.
“Zarina,” Katya asked calmly at first, “did you walk the dogs today?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m tired and resting. So what?”
“Please go to the living room and clean this mess. It’s unbearable—dogs have made a disaster!”
“Go clean it yourself,” Zarina snapped, “I told you I’m tired! Are you going to break a broom and dustpan?”
“These are your dogs,” Katya said angrily. “Remember your promise to Dad to take care of them! But what happens? I come home from work and have to clean—excuse my language—your dog’s mess!”
“Like you never use the toilet,” Zarina sneered. “Stop getting on my nerves! I’d have cleaned it ages ago. Katya, don’t bother me! Close the door, please!”
Konstantin heard everything—he entered Zarina’s room after Katya and commanded:
“Alright, pack up and get out! You’re not living here anymore. You can go back to your mother, move to a dorm, or even live under the heating pipes—I don’t care!
If you don’t behave like a decent person, I won’t try to reason or raise you anymore.
Don’t expect any money from me—nothing now.”
“Don’t forget to take your dogs. Zarina, that was the last straw!”
Zarina shouted back, accusing her father of being heartless and cold, but Konstantin stood firm.
She and Dima packed their things and left. Of course, they didn’t take the dogs with them—Zarina told them before leaving:
“Throw them out if you want. I don’t need them. Or keep them yourself—they’ll be your children instead. Good-for-nothings!”
Katya kept the adult dachshund. She had grown attached to the dog after taking care of her for so long. The dog turned out to be clever, and Katya trained her well.
The puppies were given away within two days to people happy to take them for free.
Zarina no longer talks to her father. She and Dima live with his parents. She sincerely believes that the conflict with her father is all Katya’s fault.