Anna stood by the window of her new kitchen and looked out at the yard that, just a month ago, had seemed perfect to her. A neat green lawn, young fir trees around the perimeter, tidy paths made of natural stone. But now half the lawn was dug up, turned into beds with tomatoes and cucumbers—vegetables she could have bought at the store.
“Annechka, where’s your colander?” came Svetlana’s voice from deep inside the kitchen. “I can’t find it anywhere.”
Anna turned and saw her sister-in-law rummaging through the lower cabinets, pulling out pots and pans onto the floor.
“In the upper cabinet on the left,” Anna replied tiredly. “Svetlana, could you please put everything back afterward?”
“Of course, of course,” Svetlana nodded absentmindedly, pulling her own colander out of a box sitting right there on the floor. “But this one’s kind of small. Mine’s more convenient.”
Anna watched as Svetlana carelessly shoved her colander into the far corner of the cabinet and placed her own in the most convenient spot. These little things had been happening every day for two weeks now.
At first, it all seemed temporary and even touching. When Igor, Svetlana’s husband, left her for another woman, leaving her with eight-year-old Maxim, Anna sincerely sympathized with her sister-in-law. Of course, they should help her. They had a big house, four bedrooms, enough space for everyone.
“It won’t be long,” Anna’s husband Andrey assured at the time. “Until Sveta gets back on her feet and finds a proper job.”
Anna nodded. She understood. Family is family.
But “not long” dragged on. At first, Svetlana brought two bags of essentials. Then she took winter clothes from her old apartment. Then her sewing machine was needed — she could earn money working from home sewing. Then children’s toys, books, another box of dishes.
“Mom, why did Aunt Sveta put her microwave next to ours?” Anna’s twelve-year-old daughter Katya asked one morning.
Anna had noticed it too. Now there were two microwaves on the kitchen table, and it looked ridiculous.
“She probably feels more comfortable with her own,” Anna replied to her daughter, but inside a little alarm bell rang.
By the end of the second week, Anna began to notice things not where she had left them. The sugar bowl had moved from the right cabinet to the left. Ladles hung on the other side. Spices were in a completely different order.
“Svetlana,” Anna finally dared to ask, “did you rearrange my spice jars?”
“Oh, yes,” Svetlana answered lightly without even looking up from her phone. “I arranged them alphabetically. More convenient, right? Yours were all over the place.”
Anna wanted to say that she had her own system and knew exactly where everything was, but she kept quiet. It wasn’t worth arguing over spices.
But what bothered her most was how freely Svetlana now behaved. She no longer asked permission to use the washing machine or turn on the TV in the living room. She could come home from a walk with Maxim and his friends and make them a snack in the kitchen without warning. And when Anna delicately mentioned that it would be nice to warn about guests, Svetlana was surprised:
“It’s just a kids’ snack! What’s the big deal? Maxim needs to socialize with his peers.”
And today, when Anna returned from work, she saw Svetlana, her mother-in-law Galina Petrovna, and another unfamiliar woman in the living room. They were drinking tea from her favorite set, which she kept for special occasions.
“Annechka, come join us!” called her mother-in-law. “Meet Lydia Ivanovna, my friend. We went to beauty school together and did treatments.”
Anna politely said hello but inside she was boiling. No one had asked her permission to have a tea party. No one had warned her about guests. And most importantly — that tea set! She had received it as a gift from her grandmother; it was special to her.
“What a beautiful house you have,” Lydia Ivanovna admired. “And such a well-kept yard! The vegetable garden is just wonderful!”
“We worked hard on it, Svetochka and I,” her mother-in-law said proudly. “We decided to tidy things up. The lawn is fine and all, but what good is it? Now at least we’ll have our own vegetables.”
Anna felt blood rush to her face. She slowly went to the kitchen, poured herself some water, and tried to calm down.
In the evening, after the guests left and the children were doing their homework, Anna decided to talk to her husband.
“Andrey, I need to talk to you.”
“Of course, honey. What’s wrong?”
They sat in the bedroom, and Anna searched for words.
“You see, I feel like the situation with Sveta… it’s dragging on.”
“In what way?” Andrey asked warily.
“Well, initially we talked about temporary living. But now… She’s constantly moving things, rearranging, changing. Today, she even brought her mother’s friend and they drank tea from my special tea set, the one I cherish.”
“Anna, come on! This is family. Mom has the right to visit us.”
“I’m not against guests!” Anna raised her voice but immediately controlled herself. “I’m against nobody warning me. This is my house, and I want to know who will be in it.”
“Our house,” Andrey corrected. “And Sveta is family too.”
“Andrey, you don’t understand me. Look at the kitchen — everything’s been moved. Instead of a lawn, there’s a vegetable garden. Sveta acts as if this is her house.”
“What’s wrong with the garden? It saves the family budget.”
Anna sighed deeply. She saw her husband didn’t understand her feelings.
“Okay, let’s do this. Let Sveta find her own place. We’ll help with rent for the first few months until she settles.”
“Anna, what are you saying?” Andrey stood up. “Kick your sister and her child out on the street?”
“Not kick out, help her start an independent life!”
“Listen, maybe the problem is you?” Andrey looked at his wife with bewilderment. “Sveta doesn’t bother anyone, helps around the house, Mom is happy. And you’re making scenes.”
“Scenes?” Anna couldn’t believe her ears. “Andrey, I just want to live in my own house by my own rules!”
“This isn’t just your house,” her husband said coldly. “My sister is just as much a hostess in this house as you are. Respect her rules.”
Anna felt anger rise. She looked at her husband and didn’t recognize him. This man, with whom she had lived fifteen years, with whom they had saved for this house together, chosen every detail of the interior — now told her she wasn’t the rightful mistress of her own home.
“Alright,” she said quietly and stood up.
“Anna, wait, I didn’t mean that…”
But she had already left the bedroom.
Anna didn’t sleep all night. She lay thinking about what had happened. How imperceptibly her own house had stopped being her home. How her opinion had ceased to matter. How her husband had put his sister’s interests above her comfort.
In the morning, she got up early and made breakfast for the whole family. As usual. But not out of care, only to gather everyone at the table.
“Good morning,” said Svetlana, entering the kitchen in a robe. “Oh, is the coffee ready? Wonderful! I wanted to sleep in a bit.”
“Aunt Sveta, why did you rearrange my books?” Katya asked. “I was looking for Harry Potter yesterday, but it’s in a different place now.”
“I tidied the shelves,” Svetlana answered. “Sorted by size. Looks prettier.”
Anna listened and understood her decision was final. She stood up from the table.
“I need to tell you all something.”
Everyone looked up at her. Andrey looked wary — he probably sensed something was wrong.
“You have twelve hours to pack your things and leave this house,” Anna said calmly, looking at Svetlana and her mother-in-law.
“Anna!” Andrey exclaimed.
“Wait. I’m not done,” Anna stopped him. “If you don’t leave in twelve hours, I will throw all your things on the lawn, lock the house from inside, and if you make noise — I’ll call the police.”
A deadly silence fell over the kitchen. Svetlana opened her mouth but said nothing. Galina Petrovna turned pale.
“Mom, what’s going on?” Katya asked quietly.
“What’s happening is that Mom decided to take back her house,” Anna replied, not taking her eyes off her sister-in-law.
“You’ve lost your mind?” Andrey finally burst out.
“No. I just remembered who the mistress of this house is. Yesterday you said your sister is just as much a hostess as I am. But that’s not true, Andrey. I’m the mistress. I am. And only I decide who lives here and by what rules.”
Anna looked around at everyone sitting at the table.
“I sold my apartment in the city to build this house. I chose every tile, every door handle. I wanted a lawn, not a vegetable garden. I wanted peace in the evenings, not constant guests. I wanted to live with my family, not turn this house into a dormitory.”
“Anna, why be so harsh?” her mother-in-law tried to intervene. “We’re family…”
“Galina Petrovna,” Anna interrupted, “you have your own apartment. Sveta had an apartment too, which she rents out. Live there. This is my house, and these are my rules.”
Svetlana finally found her voice:
“Andrey, are you going to let your wife talk to us like this?”
Anna turned to her husband. He sat with his head down, and she saw he understood: she was serious.
“Andryusha,” she said softly, “you can choose. Either you’re with me, or with them. There’s no third option.”
“Anna, let’s discuss this calmly…”
“No. Time for discussions passed. Yesterday evening. When you told me I should respect your sister’s rules in my own house.”
Anna glanced at the clock.
“You all have time to pack. Katya, of course, you stay with me.”
She turned and headed to the kitchen door.
“Mom,” her daughter called.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“And what if Dad doesn’t want to choose?”
Anna thought for a second.
“Then he leaves too. Because in my house only those who respect me and my rules live.”
With those words, she went upstairs to her room.
In the house, footsteps were heard, the rustle of bags, muffled voices. Anna lay in bed and listened as her life was being unpacked. But for the first time in many weeks, she felt not guilt but pride in her firmness.
Within an hour, it was over; the sound of her husband’s car engine was heard. Anna came down to the kitchen. The house was quiet. A note from Andrey lay on the table:
“Forgive me. I didn’t understand how hard it was for you. Sveta went to Mom’s; I drove them. Can I come back? I promise this won’t happen again.”
Anna folded the note and looked out the window. There was not a single foreign thing on the lawn. Instead, neat beds of tomatoes stood proudly.
She smiled and went to find a shovel. The last touch — to remove those tomatoes out of sight. But not now, later, when her husband returned. If he returns.
By evening Andrey came back. He silently hugged his wife and held her for a long time.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I was a fool.”
“Yes, you were,” Anna agreed. “But I forgive you. On the condition that you understand: this is our house. Yours and mine. Everyone else is a guest here and behaves like one.”
“I understand,” Andrey nodded. “Completely understand.”
That evening they sat on the veranda, drinking tea and looking at the yard.
“Too bad to destroy the vegetable garden,” Andrey remarked. “The tomatoes will grow well.”
“That’s okay,” Anna replied. “The lawn is more important. That’s my choice.”
Andrey nodded. He understood the main thing: the choice belongs to the one who built the house. And it was Anna. With all her heart.
