Irina and Nikita had spent years dreaming of their perfect home—a space where they could live without constraints, a place full of love, and, eventually, children. The idea of a cozy house with a spacious garden was the foundation of their future, built on hard work, sacrifices, and the hope of a bright future.
When they first started dating, they promised each other that they would never be tied down by an apartment with skyrocketing mortgage rates. A house was the better choice—larger, more affordable, and in the long run, far more practical. So, when they found a 130-square-meter plot of land on Irina’s aunt’s property, they jumped at the chance.
“I didn’t really give you anything for your wedding, so consider this my gift,” Aunt Tatyana had said, handing over the deed. “The land’s been sitting idle for too long. Better to see my niece and her future children here.”
Irina and Nikita were overjoyed. They quickly began working on building their dream home. They did as much as they could themselves—working evenings and weekends, often in the rain or under the blazing sun. Irina even had to dip into the money from selling her grandmother’s apartment, a bittersweet but necessary decision. But, every penny spent, every hour sacrificed, was worth it when they finally stood in the house they had built together.
Despite the pride they felt in their work, there was an unsettling feeling about the lack of help from Nikita’s parents. They owned a large SUV that could have been used to transport items for the house, but they had never once offered their assistance. Irina couldn’t understand why they had been so distant, especially considering they were retired and had nothing but time. But Nikita, ever the optimist, shrugged it off.
“They’re probably busy with their own things, Ira. We don’t need to worry,” he would say.
Yet, something inside Irina told her that it was more than just busyness. She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that they were being left out of something important. Little did she know, her suspicions were about to be confirmed in the most unexpected way.
One afternoon, when the delivery of their new TV was supposed to arrive, there was a knock on the door earlier than expected. Irina opened it, assuming it was the couriers. But to her surprise, it was her in-laws, Liliya Denisovna and Oleg Petrovich.
“Hello, Irochka! Didn’t recognize you at first. This place is amazing! We’ll be rich!” Liliya Denisovna said with an exaggerated smile, walking in without hesitation.
Irina stood frozen in the doorway, not sure how to respond. “I… didn’t expect you,” she said, trying to keep her composure.
Oleg Petrovich winked. “What a beauty this house is! You did well, kids. So, when do we move in with you?”
Irina’s heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me?” she managed to ask, her mind racing.
“We’ve decided it’s time to move in. The house is done, so when can we come?” Oleg Petrovich said casually, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
Irina’s mind went blank. “But… we weren’t planning for… four people to live here,” she stammered, feeling her frustration bubble up.
“Don’t worry, we won’t take much space. Just one room. We just want to rent out our apartment so we can get a bit more for our pension,” Liliya Denisovna added cheerfully.
Irina stood still, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Have you discussed this with Nikita?” she asked, her voice tight.
“No, but he’ll be fine with it. He never says no to anything,” Oleg Petrovich answered with complete confidence.
Irina felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. How could they have the audacity to decide this without even consulting Nikita? They had never once lifted a finger to help with the house, and now they wanted to move in and take advantage of it. But she held her tongue, hoping that Nikita would somehow make it all right.
Just as the awkward silence began to settle, Irina’s phone rang. It was the couriers with the TV.
“Hello, we’re outside with the delivery,” they said apologetically. “Sorry for not calling in advance.”
“Right on time,” Irina muttered to herself, as she went to answer the door. The large box was carried in, and Oleg Petrovich immediately took an interest.
“Wow, what a box! Where are you putting it?” he asked.
“Right there, on the wall,” Irina said, pointing to a spot.
“Great! Lilia and I will watch the news every night,” Oleg Petrovich declared proudly.
Irina was doing her best to keep her composure. “Actually, we won’t be connecting a TV antenna,” she said, trying to maintain some control over the situation. “We’re streaming everything these days. No one really watches TV anymore.”
Liliya Denisovna chuckled. “Oh, I see. Well, tell Nikita to install the antenna for us when he has time.”
Irina’s patience was wearing thin, but she smiled through gritted teeth, hoping that Nikita would come home soon to clear the air.
As if on cue, the sound of his car pulling up in the driveway made Irina’s heart leap with relief. She rushed to greet him, pulling him into an embrace.
“Your parents want to move in with us and rent out their apartment,” Irina whispered into his ear.
Nikita’s eyes widened in shock. “What?!”
“They’ll tell you themselves,” Irina replied, trying to keep calm.
As Nikita walked inside, Irina held her breath, hoping her husband would stand up to his parents. After all, this house was supposed to be their sanctuary, not a family project gone awry.