After a demanding day working at the medical center’s accounting office, Nadezhda climbed the stairs. The sultry July evening clung her damp blouse to her back, while the bag filled with papers felt unusually heavy. Her parents had left for their aunt’s dacha a week ago, entrusting Nadezhda with keys to their second-floor apartment, assigning her the tasks of watering plants and checking the mail.
Pausing on the landing between the second and third floors, Nadezhda suddenly froze. From within her parents’ apartment echoed loud voices and raucous laughter. Music blared so powerfully that the door vibrated. Her heart raced; her parents were not expected back for another three days.
Pressing her ear against the door, Nadezhda distinguished among unfamiliar voices the unmistakable tone of her mother-in-law, Valentina Dmitrievna. The woman was sharing stories, periodically bursting into laughter. In the background, glasses clinked, and someone turned the TV volume even louder.
Trembling, Nadezhda retrieved her phone. Her first call to her husband went unanswered. After waiting a minute, she dialed again — silence. The third attempt reached only voicemail. Anxiety surged within her, but she gritted her teeth, knowing Oleg must have been aware of his mother’s whereabouts.
Quietly, she took the keyring from her handbag and carefully inserted one key into the lock. The door opened without a sound. Immediately, a thick scent of tobacco mixed with alcohol and something else, oddly sweet, assaulted her senses. The lilies her mother adored on the windowsill drooped from the stifling heat.
Scattered shoes filled the hallway: men’s boots, women’s sandals, and children’s sneakers. On the shoe cabinet rested an empty vodka bottle and an overflowing ashtray. Removing her shoes, Nadezhda tiptoed toward the living room.
The scene that unfolded was shocking. She grasped the door frame to steady herself. Her mother’s pristine white tablecloth, reserved for special occasions, was stained with red blotches and ashes. Three empty vodka bottles and several beer containers filled the table, accompanied by crystal glasses half-filled with cigarette butts.
Cushions were tossed on the floor. On the polished coffee table, damp rings from bottles marred the surface. One of her mother’s crystal vases lay on its side, fortunately intact.
Five individuals occupied seats around the table. Valentina Dmitrievna presided at the head, acting as the apartment’s hostess. Beside her sat a man in his fifties wearing a crumpled shirt, two women roughly her age, and a teenage boy smoking despite his young age.
“And then my daughter-in-law announces she will spend her vacation not at our dacha but at her parents’!” Valentina Dmitrievna exclaimed, brandishing a vodka glass. “Can you believe it? We are strangers to her!”
“Oh, Valya, the youth are like that these days,” one woman replied, lighting another cigarette. “Their own families mean more to them.”
“What family?” snapped the mother-in-law. “My son is her family! And what about parents? No help will come from them once children have taken their own path!”
“Almost relatives don’t smoke in others’ homes or leave cigarette butts in crystal glasses,” Nadezhda calmly responded, her voice steady despite the tension.
The music drowned out awareness of Nadezhda standing at the doorway. She watched silently as her mother-in-law’s group brazenly commandeered her parents’ home. The boy flicked ashes onto the carpet, and the man with dirty boots rested his feet on her mother’s armchair.
“The apartment is lovely,” noted the second woman, surveying the room. “Located downtown, freshly renovated. They’re lucky.”
“That’s true,” Valentina Dmitrievna agreed. “We will never have such a place. But the daughter-in-law grew up here; everything was handed to her.”
Clenching her fists, Nadezhda recalled her parents’ sacrifices for this apartment. Her father juggled two jobs, and her mother sewed at home every evening. Every ruble had come at a price.
Valentina Dmitrievna rose and approached the cupboard holding the dishware. Nadezhda observed as she picked up a porcelain figurine, a gift from the late grandmother.
“A beautiful piece,” Valentina Dmitrievna remarked, turning the antique statuette in her hand.
“Valya, you aren’t seriously thinking of taking it?” the man in the wrinkled shirt chuckled.
“Why not?” shrugged the mother-in-law. “It just collects dust here. The bride doesn’t appreciate these things. The youth only care about their phones now.”
Unable to endure any longer, Nadezhda stepped from the shadows and loudly clapped her hands. The music continued, but conversations ceased instantly. Five pairs of eyes fixed upon her.
Frozen mid-motion, Valentina Dmitrievna held the statuette. Her expressions shifted from surprise to fear and then to irritation.
“Nadyusha!” Valentina Dmitrievna exclaimed falsely, quickly returning the figurine to its place. “What are you doing here?”
Slowly, Nadezhda scanned the room, noting every detail of the disorder: the stained tablecloth, cigarette butts floating in crystal glasses, dirty boot marks on the armchair, ash on the carpet, and wet rings on the polished table.
“I live one floor above,” she replied calmly. “My parents entrusted me with these keys to look after the apartment while they’re away.”
The guests exchanged glances. The teenager quickly stubbed out his cigarette on the floor. The man withdrew his feet from the chair.
“We just dropped in…” one woman began.
“For just an hour,” Valentina Dmitrievna cut in. “Nothing serious, reminiscing a bit. We’re practically family, Nadezhda.”
- Respect for property is essential, even among close acquaintances.
- Unauthorized gatherings can lead to tension and broken trust.
- Clear boundaries protect family relationships and homes.
“Almost family members don’t smoke inside someone else’s home or leave ashes in crystal glasses,” Nadezhda answered quietly, her tone controlled.
Valentina Dmitrievna blushed deeply, her companions shifting uneasily.
“Nadya, come on…” the mother-in-law attempted to justify herself. “We’re family! I spoke with Oleg, and he’s fine with this.”
“If Oleg agrees, then why didn’t he answer my calls?” Nadezhda revealed her phone, displaying the missed calls.
Valentina Dmitrievna was speechless, while the man hastily gathered empty bottles, preparing to leave.
“We’ll clean everything up right now,” said one woman quickly. “Nothing awful happened.”
Opening the window wide, Nadezhda let fresh air circulate. Slowly, the smoke began to dissipate. Turning back to the group, she held out her hand, palm up.
“The keys to my parents’ apartment — hand them over now.”
Startled as if shocked by electricity, Valentina Dmitrievna’s face flushed crimson.
“What keys?” she feigned confusion. “What do you mean?”
“The keys you used to enter this apartment,” Nadezhda said evenly. “My parents gave keys only to me. So, you must have obtained them from Oleg.”
Whispers arose among the mother-in-law’s company. The teenager stood up and headed for the exit.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Nadezhda stopped him. “No one leaves until everything’s tidied.»
“We’ll clean up now, now,” Valentina Dmitrievna hurried. “And the keys… What kind of keys? I didn’t realize you objected…”
“Valentina Dmitrievna,” Nadezhda spoke calmly, “you fully understood you were throwing a party in someone else’s apartment without the owners’ permission. Please, give me the keys.”
Her hand remained extended; there was no backing down.
Nervously laughing, the man in the crumpled shirt hurriedly collected bottles into a bag. One woman rose to brush ash from the tablecloth. The teenager stood in the hallway, lacing his shoes.
“Come on, Val,” said the man without looking up. “It’s late; we work tomorrow.”
Fumbling in her purse, Valentina Dmitrievna’s face glowed with shame and anger as she pulled out the keyring.
“Here are your keys,” she spat provocatively, dropping them into Nadezhda’s palm. “Happy now?”
Nadezhda clenched the keys silently, her authority in the room undeniable. The mother-in-law’s group sensed the shift.
“I ask everyone to leave the apartment,” Nadezhda stated quietly, indicating the door.
The guests hastily gathered their things. The women muttered apologies; the man finished off the beer straight from the bottle. Valentina Dmitrievna silently packed a cigarette box.
“Nadya, we meant no harm,” one woman tried to explain. “We just wanted to chat a bit.”
“In someone else’s home, without consent,” Nadezhda countered. “Smoking, drinking, damaging belongings.”
Donning her summer jacket, Valentina Dmitrievna moved toward the exit. But at the doorstep, she paused and spun sharply around.
“Don’t forget who’s the senior here!” she snapped. “I am your husband’s mother! I decide where I belong!”
Nadezhda met her glare with icy calmness.
“This apartment belongs to my parents,” she replied evenly. “Here, I am the one in charge. And you will no longer be welcome here.”
Valentina Dmitrievna recoiled as if slapped. The group quickly ushered her outside. Nadezhda locked the door and leaned back against it.
After the chaos and noise, the silence was deafening. Returning to the living room, Nadezhda started cleaning. Each task helped her regain control. She folded the cushions, collected cigarette butts from crystal glasses, and wiped damp rings off the coffee table.
The tablecloth required soaking in cold water. Opening windows and turning on the fan, she let fresh air sweep away the smoke, restoring the scent of her mother’s lilies.
Finally, the phone rang. Oleg.
“Nadya, mom says you yelled at her,” he began abruptly.
“Your mother held a party in my parents’ apartment, without permission,” Nadezhda interrupted calmly. “With strangers, smoking, and damage.”
“You’re exaggerating. Mom was just with friends. I gave her keys to water the plants, if needed.”
“I water the plants. I have the keys. We’ll talk at home. Your mother won’t come to my parents’ apartment again.”
Ending the call without waiting, Nadezhda’s hands still shook from adrenaline, but within her, a firm resolve had settled. A clear boundary was drawn — once and forever.
The next morning, she visited a locksmith’s shop and arranged for the locks to be changed. The locksmith arrived that same day. New keys were given only to her and her parents.
When the parents returned from the dacha two days later, Nadezhda recounted everything honestly. Her father listened silently; her mother gasped upon seeing the stains on the cherished tablecloth.
“You did the right thing, daughter,” her father affirmed. “No outsiders will ever take over our home.”
“Good that you caught them,” her mother added. “Who knows what else they might have done.”
Oleg insisted his mother should get the keys back, sparking arguments over two nights. He accused Nadezhda of disrespecting elders and damaging family ties.
“Either you’re on my side, or we resolve this decisively,” Nadezhda declared. “I won’t allow anyone to violate my family’s boundaries again.”
Oleg fell silent. Divorce was not an option; the mortgage was jointly held.
Valentina Dmitrievna did not call or visit for a month. Later, cautiously, she tried to mend relations, beginning with invitations through Oleg, then asking for direct contact.
“Nadyusha, let’s put this nonsense behind us,” the mother-in-law said conciliatingly. “We are family and should support one another.”
Although Nadezhda agreed to maintain communication, meetings occurred only in public or at Valentina Dmitrievna’s residence. The mother-in-law no longer entered the parents’ apartment. The keys remained with those trusted by the owners.
Key Takeaway: This experience reshaped the family’s hierarchy forever. Valentina Dmitrievna realized her daughter-in-law could defend herself and would not tolerate disrespect. Though respect was slow to build, it eventually arrived. Nadezhda no longer doubted her right to assert a firm “no” when needed.
Boundaries matter deeply within families. Protecting the sanctity of a home can prevent conflicts, ensuring relationships remain respectful and harmonious. Standing firm, even in the face of relatives, is sometimes essential to maintaining peace and dignity.