Olga reluctantly pulled herself away from the stove, wiping her hands on her apron as the phone rang again. It was Mikhail—this was the second call in a row, and the urgency in his voice suggested something important. She answered while keeping a watchful eye on the frying cutlets, worried they might burn.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Mikhail’s tone was tense.
“I’m in the middle of frying cutlets. What’s going on?” Olga asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
“Listen, here’s the thing… Nastya called. She’s in trouble—there’s been a flood in her apartment. Can you believe it? A pipe burst upstairs, and the ceiling collapsed. She’s asking if she can stay with us for a week or two until they fix it.”
Olga stood frozen. “A week or two?”
“Yeah, and I was thinking… maybe we could put her in the nursery. You know how she needs a quiet space because of her asthma,” Mikhail suggested quickly, sensing her hesitation.
Olga narrowed her eyes, feeling the irritation bubbling inside her. “And where do you expect Katya and Dimka to sleep? On the sofa-bed in the living room while your dear sister gets the nursery all to herself?”
“Olga, please don’t start. It’s only for two weeks. She’s my sister, and she has nowhere else to go.”
“Why doesn’t she stay in her own apartment?” Olga shot back.
“She can’t—there’s remodeling going on. Dust and paint. It’s bad for her health,” Mikhail explained, hoping to calm her.
“Then let her go stay with mom or her friends.”
Mikhail hesitated. “Mom’s room is too small, and Nastya says she’ll be more comfortable here.”
Olga sighed, realizing it was pointless to argue. “Fine. But only for two weeks.”
Mikhail let out a relieved breath. “Thank you, Olga! You’re a miracle!”
But as soon as the call ended, Olga didn’t feel relieved at all. She knew Nastya wasn’t going to be an easy guest. The woman had a knack for bossing people around, making demands, and criticizing everything. Olga braced herself for what was to come.
That evening, Nastya arrived. Barely inside the door, she started inspecting the apartment like an inspector checking for code violations.
“What’s this? A sofa-bed?” Nastya raised an eyebrow, eyeing the nursery setup.
“It’s a perfectly fine sofa,” Olga replied, trying to keep her calm.
“A sofa? I wonder if you’ve ever tried sleeping on it. But I guess I’ll have to manage,” Nastya mused, her tone dripping with condescension.
Olga clenched her jaw and kept unpacking Nastya’s things, forcing a smile. But by the end of the evening, Mikhail’s sister was already offering suggestions on how to rearrange the furniture “for more coziness.”
“Oh, and we should close the balcony—too much draft. These curtains are too bright; they give me a headache,” Nastya commented, settling in.
Olga looked at Mikhail, expecting some kind of reaction, but he just shrugged, pretending nothing was amiss.
That night, lying in bed, Olga felt a pang of regret for not standing her ground. Little did she know, this was just the beginning of a long and uncomfortable stay.
A week went by, and just as Olga expected, Nastya wasn’t about to be a quiet guest. She slept until noon, had breakfast just before lunch, and kept the TV blaring at full volume. Dirty dishes piled up in the kitchen, despite the presence of a dishwasher.
Every evening, Olga cleaned up after her, but the frustration kept building. Mikhail didn’t seem to notice or care. When she tried to talk to him about it, he simply shrugged.
“Olga, you’re overreacting. Nastya’s just not used to living with kids.”
“She hasn’t showered in three days! Is that normal?”
“Maybe she just feels uncomfortable…” Mikhail offered, as though that explained everything.
Olga lay awake, feeling like a stranger in her own home. It was as if a new ruler had taken charge, and she was merely a guest in her own life.
By the second week, things were getting stranger. One evening, Olga noticed that a small sum of money she had left on a shelf in the hallway was missing. It wasn’t much—just a couple thousand rubles—but she was sure it had been there earlier.
“Mikhail, did you take the money from the shelf?” she asked when the children were asleep.
“No, why would I?” he replied, looking puzzled.
“Maybe Nastya…” Olga ventured.
“Olga, stop. You probably misplaced it,” Mikhail dismissed her, his tone sharp.
But Olga was certain she hadn’t imagined it. She knew exactly where she had left it.
As the days passed, Olga began to notice other oddities. Nastya kept going out onto the balcony with her phone, saying she needed “personal space” for her calls. But there was something suspicious about her behavior.
One evening, the kids revealed something unsettling. The youngest son, speaking innocently, said:
“Aunt Nastya said the tenants are still living in her apartment.”
“What?” Olga snapped, shocked.
“Yeah, Mom. She said they’ve been there for a while, and she feels bad kicking them out. Who are these tenants?”
Olga’s heart sank. She suddenly realized the truth: the story about the flooding was a lie. Nastya hadn’t moved in because of repairs; she’d come to stay with them to continue renting out her apartment, using their home as a temporary refuge.
That night, Olga confronted Mikhail.
“Mikhail, your sister is lying to us,” she said bluntly.
“What do you mean?” he asked, looking confused.
“The kids heard her talking about tenants,” Olga explained.
Mikhail paled, but quickly tried to brush it off. “Olga, you must be mistaken. Nastya wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Wouldn’t? Then why do you keep giving her money? I’m working hard just to get by while you’re supporting her financial schemes.”
Mikhail fell silent, but his uneasy expression spoke volumes.
“You’re covering for her. She’s taking advantage of you, and you keep letting it happen.”
“It’s only temporary…” he muttered, but there was no confidence in his voice anymore.
Olga’s patience was running thin. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding—it was a pattern of deceit, and she was done tolerating it.
A few days later, when Nastya went out onto the balcony with her phone again, Olga followed her. She overheard parts of the conversation:
“Dashik, don’t worry… The tenants are still paying late, but things will get better. I’ll stay here a little longer. Olga’s too afraid to say anything because of Misha… Yeah, I exaggerated a bit about the repairs…”
Olga froze in the doorway, the truth now clear. Nastya had manipulated them all along, using their kindness to cover her tracks.
That night, Olga demanded an explanation from Mikhail.
“Mikhail, your sister’s lying. I overheard her. There’s no flood. She’s renting out her apartment and using us to hide her debts.”
Mikhail shifted nervously, avoiding her gaze.
“Olga, you don’t understand. Nastya’s going through a tough time…”
“A tough time?” Olga raised her voice. “She lied to us, took advantage of our hospitality, and has been using our home like a free hotel while her apartment brings in income!”
Mikhail mumbled, “I can’t just kick her out.”
Olga’s temper flared. “You can’t kick her out? What about me? Am I supposed to keep tolerating her chaos, demands, and manipulations? She’s taken over our home!”
“It’s temporary…” Mikhail repeated, but now he sounded uncertain.
“Temporary? She’s been here for three months! Do you honestly think she’s going to leave voluntarily? She’s perfectly comfortable, and it’s all thanks to your weakness.”
Mikhail lowered his head in shame.
“Fine. If you’re not going to solve this, I will. And I’ll do it today.”
The next morning, when Nastya came downstairs to the kitchen, Olga gave her a cold, steely look.
“We need to talk,” she said, her voice calm but unwavering.
“What about?” Nastya feigned surprise, sipping her coffee.
“About your ‘