Anya stood still on the edge of the breakwater, letting the wind play with her hair. Salty sea spray caressed her cheeks, leaving a thin film she wanted to wipe away, but she stood motionless. This moment was too important to interrupt.
She had just turned thirty, and this was her first time seeing the sea. The trip happened spontaneously—after breaking up with Vadim, Anya tried to pick up the pieces of herself. City hustle, endless work, and pressure from others made her life unbearable. So she decided: she closed her laptop, withdrew her last savings, and left.
The vacation couldn’t be called luxurious. A small room in an old guest house with thin walls, a neighbor who talked on the phone late into the night, and modest breakfasts made from instant grains. But that didn’t matter. The main thing was the sea, boundless and free.
She spent hours on the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore. In those moments, something inside her slowly awakened—perhaps it was peace or the realization that the world was much bigger than her everyday worries.
Returning to Moscow, she realized she was ready to start everything anew. Her money was gone, and she would have to live frugally, but every spent ruble seemed like an investment in her own freedom.
Gradually, life returned to its usual course. Workdays, evenings with a book on the couch. Her only constant companion was her old cat Murzik, who was over fifteen. He lazily warmed himself on her lap, sometimes demanding attention with soft paws. It was a simple, solitary life, but it was exactly how Anya felt comfortable.
Then suddenly—a call from her brother.
«Hello, little sister!»—Alexander’s voice sounded unusually joyful.—»We’re coming to Moscow for a couple of days. Will drop by for a cup of tea?»
Anya was surprised. She and her brother hadn’t seen each other in five years. Their rare conversations were formal, limited to questions about work and well-being.
«Of course, come over,» she replied, although a strange premonition stirred inside her.
Two days later, there was a knock on the door. Alexander stood on the threshold with two huge suitcases. Next to him—his new wife Olga, tall and impeccably groomed, with bright lipstick and a flawless hairstyle. Behind them—a boy about ten years old, with a concentrated face and a phone in his hands.
«Hello, sis!»—Sasha exclaimed, hugging her.—»Here we meet!»
Anya forced a weak smile.
«Hello… Who are these people?»
«This is Olya, my wife,»—he gently pushed her forward.—»And this is Artyom, her son.»
«Hello,»—Olga coldly said, casting a quick glance around the apartment.
«So, where will we sleep?»—Sasha immediately asked, not even waiting for an invitation to come in.
«What?»—Anya asked, feeling an unpleasant feeling growing inside.
«Well, there must be room for us, right?»—he added, as if it were a matter of course.
«Well, yes, we just decided to stay. We’ll show Artyom the capital, and for now, we’ll stay with you,»—Sasha continued nonchalantly, taking off his shoes right in the hallway.
Anya reluctantly nodded, letting them in, though inside everything tightened from an unpleasant premonition.
«Only,»—began her brother, unbuttoning his jacket,— «could you whip up something substantial? We’re pretty hungry from the road.»
She froze in place.
«I wasn’t prepared for your extended stay,»—she cautiously replied.—»I only cooked for myself.»
«Come on, it’s not a problem—to add water to the pot or run to the store,»—Olga intervened, taking out her phone from her bag and starting to type something quickly.
Anya clenched her fists, feeling irritation boil inside.
The guests settled into the apartment as if it belonged to them. Olga began unpacking the suitcases, not refraining from comments:
«It’s quite modest here. We’ve been used to spacious places for a long time.»
Sasha didn’t even notice her words; instead, he turned on the TV, completely ignoring his sister’s presence.
When Olga opened the fridge door, her eyebrows shot up:
«And not even sausage for sandwiches? You knew we were coming.»
Anya remained silent, but her patience was on the edge.
The moment of truth came when Olga noticed a pack of cigarettes on the table.
«You still allow yourself this?»—she asked with a look of disgust, picking up a «Winston.»—»Sasha and I have long switched to electronic devices. It’s much safer for your health.»
«Thanks for the advice,»—Anya replied shortly, struggling to keep calm, though she wanted to grab the pack and throw it in the trash.
«Try it!»—Olga persisted.—»Modern technologies help live healthier. Even Artyom knows what a healthy lifestyle is.»
Anya took a deep breath, barely holding back the urge to express everything she thought about their «healthy» approach. Instead, she sharply said:
«I’ll go to the store.»
Outside, she allowed herself to smoke, drawing in the smoke with the cool air.
«How do I even tolerate all these remarks?»—she thought, watching the passersby.—»Why should I put up with such treatment?»
Returning home, she was determined to put everyone in their place. But what met her at the door made her heart clench.
Opening the door, she heard loud children’s screams. Artyom was running around the living room, waving his hands, and from the hallway came the plaintive meowing of her old cat Murzik.
«What’s going on here?!»—she sharply asked, dropping her bags.
Artyom stood in the middle of the room, sobbing and rubbing his cheeks. Scratch marks were visible on his face. Nearby, Olga, bending over him, energetically wiped the wounds with a wet wipe.
«Your cat attacked the child!»—she blurted out indignantly, as if talking about a wild beast, not her old, calm Murzik.
«Attacked?»—Anya squinted, shifting her gaze from Olga to Murzik, who trembled on the balcony, as if understanding he was the center of the conflict.—»He’s never touched a person in his life!»
«This old furry almost blinded Artyom!»—Olga continued, her voice ringing with outrage.
Anya turned to the boy:
«Artyom, tell the truth. What happened?»
The boy shuffled his feet, avoiding her gaze.
«Nothing special…»—he muttered.
But Anya knew her pet. Murzik was calm and patient, even for a cat of his age. His reaction spoke for itself.
«Admit it, you bothered him,»—Sasha finally joined the conversation.—»But he’s just a child! He’s only ten years old. He just doesn’t understand that you can’t pull a cat by the tail.»
«By the tail?»—Anya asked, feeling anger boil inside.—»If someone grabbed you by the hair or hands, would you also stand still and allow it?»
Her voice grew louder, but the real storm of emotions burst when she entered the kitchen.
There, on the table, lay an empty can—the very one that contained salty milk mushrooms, a gift from her grandmother. Those mushrooms were a real treasure for her: they were collected and marinated by her elderly relative, and Anya saved them for a special occasion.
«What is this?!»—she hissed, lifting the can so everyone could see.
Olga, who had calmed Artyom and now looked into the kitchen, replied without a hint of embarrassment:
«It’s just mushrooms. Sasha and I decided to try them. Very tasty, by the way.»
Anya froze as if she had been struck. For a moment, it seemed she was not in her apartment, but somewhere in a parallel reality, where rules of politeness and respect for someone else’s space were completely absent.
«You… ate my mushrooms?»—she repeated slowly, emphasizing each word.
«So what?»—Olga shrugged.—»Just mushrooms.»
That was the last straw. Fury broke through her composure.
«How dare you?!»—Anya screamed, her voice echoing off the walls.—»This is MY apartment, my things, my life! You came to visit, and you act as if I should serve you around the clock!»
Olga tried to justify herself:
«Come on, it’s just little things…»
But Anya didn’t let her finish:
«Little things? These are not just mushrooms! These were presented to me by my grandmother! You’ve invaded my home, locked up my cat, eat everything you find, and still dare to teach me how to live? Who gave you the right?!»
Footsteps were heard in the hallway. The woman from the first floor cautiously peeked out from behind the door, and the grandfather from the second floor rose higher to understand what was happening.
«Is everything alright?»—he asked, casting a stern glance at the company.
«Everything’s fine,»—Anya threw over her shoulder.—»Just seeing off uninvited guests!»
With these words, she turned around, grabbed Sasha and Olga’s suitcases, and began to take them out into the corridor.
«You have exactly five minutes,»—she said in an icy tone.—»And then I don’t want to see you here.»
Sasha tried to object, his voice sounding conciliatory:
«Anya, why such a reaction? We’re close people!»
«Close?»—she looked at him with such cold determination that he involuntarily stepped back.—»If ‘close’ for you means those who allow themselves everything, without a single word of thanks or respect, then we definitely can’t find common ground.»
Olga, in turn, adopted the theatrical pose of an offended lady:
«This is absolutely unacceptable! You can’t treat guests like this!»
«And how can you treat the owner?»—Anya parried, flinging open the front door.—»You forgot this is my home.»
A few minutes later, the apartment was empty. She slammed the door, leaned against it, and took a deep breath. Anger gradually receded, leaving room for a surprising feeling of freedom.
The phone rang as Anya was pouring herself tea. It was her mother, her voice sounding stern and reproachful:
«How could you kick out your own brother?! It’s simply unthinkable!»
Anya smiled faintly, recognizing the familiar maternal tone.
«Mom, believe me, it’s entirely his fault,»—she calmly replied.
«But it’s family!»—her mother exclaimed.—»You should have endured at least for a few days!»
«Family is based on mutual respect,»—Anya firmly declared.—»And they behaved as if I owed them every minute of my time and space.»
«But it’s just a couple of days…»
«No, mom,»—she interrupted, feeling a firmness settle inside.—»I’m no longer ready to tolerate such treatment. Not from them, not from anyone else.»
She hung up the phone, feeling the weight of the last few days slowly lift from her shoulders.
The next morning, Anya took Murzik to the vet. After the examination, the doctor reported that the old pet had developed stress, which triggered an exacerbation of a chronic illness. Looking at the tired eyes of the cat, she felt a sharp pity and simultaneously a resolve.
«No more intrusions,»—she whispered, stroking Murzik.—»You and I—we’ll create our own little cozy world here, where no one is allowed to disturb us.»
