“Surprise! We’re arriving tomorrow morning—come and meet us!”—The relatives wanted to show up uninvited once again
“We’re arriving tomorrow morning, so come and meet us. Our train gets in at 7:20 a.m.”
Anastasia sat down on the edge of the sofa and continued staring at her phone screen, as though another message might suddenly appear. But after saying those words, the caller had simply hung up. There had been no “May we come?” or “Would it be inconvenient for you?”—just a brief statement that sounded more like an order. Then the dial tone. That was all.
It had been Veronika, her cousin, whom she had not spoken to in years. Anastasia had not expected the call. Veronika contacted her only when she needed something. Calling for no particular reason was simply not something she did.
The baby moved inside her, as though reacting to its mother’s mood. Artyom, her husband, was still at work. Anastasia automatically began going through her plans for the following day: grocery shopping, cooking, and making an appointment with the doctor.
And now—unexpected relatives.
Nastya already knew that she would not let them stay in her apartment. There could be a scandal or there might not be one. They could take offense if they wished.
But not this time.
Anastasia had good reason to react so strongly to Veronika’s call. She remembered every detail of their previous visit—and none of those memories were pleasant.
It had happened about five years earlier. At the time, Nastya was still living with her parents in a cramped three-room apartment. It had a typical Soviet-era layout: one walk-through living room, Nastya’s room, and her parents’ bedroom.
During that visit, Aunt Raisa and her daughter Veronika had invaded the apartment—and “invaded” was exactly the right word. At first, they claimed they would stay for only a couple of days. In the end, they remained for almost an entire week.
Aunt Raya was Nastya’s mother’s older sister. Her mother’s name was Sofia Petrovna. Everyone in the family was somewhat afraid of Aunt Raya. She spoke loudly, demanded a great deal, and issued orders as though she were not a guest but the owner of the apartment.
Nastya’s father, Oleg Pavlovich, immediately disappeared “into the garage” for the duration of their visit, while her mother hurried anxiously around the kitchen as though the queen herself had come to stay.
Veronika moved directly into Nastya’s room, while Aunt Raisa took over the walk-through living room without asking anyone’s permission. From the very first hours, Veronika behaved like the owner of the place. She pulled clothing out of Nastya’s wardrobe, used her creams, and rummaged through her makeup bag.
“Oh, come on. I’m only trying it,” she said with a smile as she applied Nastya’s mascara to her eyelashes. “We don’t have things like this at home. It’s so nice here!”
Then she began asking for more.
“Can I wear this suit of yours today? Look how perfectly it fits me! To be honest, it doesn’t really suit you.”
Nastya attempted to object, but Aunt Raya immediately intervened.
“What’s the big deal? You’re practically sisters. You should share. I can see that you have everything you need. We don’t have nearly as much.”
At those words, Sofia Petrovna lowered her eyes guiltily.
“Oh, Nastenka… They’re family. They really are going through a difficult time right now. Please be patient.”
Eventually, Nastya hid some of her belongings in her parents’ bedroom and gave several other things away.
The most difficult part was enduring the feeling that although she was in her own home, it no longer felt like home. She was constantly being watched and remained tense the entire time.
Five years had passed since then. Nastya had married Artyom and found a position at a design studio where she was finally able to realize her potential. Recently, they had moved into a new apartment—a bright home with large windows and the living room of her dreams.
They were expecting a baby. Their life was peaceful.
There had been no unexpected visits.
And now this.
The word “surprise” rang in her ears like a cruel joke.
She immediately understood that this time, everything would be different.
Artyom picked Nastya up that evening. As always, he arrived on time and brought her coffee and a box of her favorite cookies.
“Bad day?” he asked after looking at her.
“Veronika called. They’re arriving tomorrow on the morning train. At seven twenty. No invitation. No asking whether it would be convenient. She simply announced, ‘Come and meet us. Surprise.’”
Nastya spoke calmly, but there was hurt in her voice—hurt she was no longer trying to hide.
“Are they coming to your place?”
“I didn’t even understand what they intended. They just presented it as a fact. I think they’ll go to my parents’ apartment. They remember that address, but they don’t know ours. Thank goodness.”
“Then let them go there,” Artyom said calmly as he drove them home. “You’re not made of steel, and you certainly aren’t required to become a hotel whenever someone demands it. Besides, you shouldn’t be getting upset. A surprise is when someone brings you flowers, not when they arrive at your door with a suitcase.”
They continued driving as the city outside the windows glowed and hummed with life, but Nastya felt calm inside.
Beside her was someone who would never demand that she behave like a “good girl.” He would protect her. He would understand.
He was there.
Early the following morning, which was a Saturday, her phone rang.
“Are you sleeping? We’re at the train station. Why aren’t you here to meet us?” Veronika’s irritated voice demanded.
“Good morning, Veronika,” Nastya replied calmly, stretching. “Yes, I was still asleep. Artyom is already at work, and I’m about to go out as well. You’ll have to take a taxi.”
“What about your parents?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t speak to them yesterday. They’re probably at home. Call them.”
“You mean you didn’t even warn them?”
“You didn’t ask me to. You simply announced that you were coming.”
“But I called you!”
“Yes, you called. But you didn’t ask whether we would be able to meet you. Everyone has their own plans, Veronika. My home isn’t a hotel.”
Nastya ended the call and exhaled.
It turned out that refusing to be convenient for everyone was easier than she had imagined.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, in the three-room apartment with a balcony crowded with jars of homemade preserves, Sofia Petrovna rushed anxiously between the kitchen and the hallway.
The phone had been ringing since early morning, and every call made her heart tighten.
“We’re at the train station, and nobody came to meet us!” Raisa declared indignantly as soon as Sofia Petrovna answered.
“Why didn’t you warn us?” Sofia asked in confusion. “Oleg went out to buy bread. He’ll come back soon and drive over to get you. Or take a taxi—it will be faster. You must be tired after the journey…”
“We’re not simply tired. We’re offended! Nika and Vadim could barely get time off work, and nobody was expecting us.”
Sofia Petrovna put down the phone and began frantically arranging everything she had in the refrigerator on the table. It was already too late to prepare elaborate dishes, but the table still looked respectable: pie, jam, salad, chicken cutlets, and homemade pickles.
When Raisa, Veronika, and Veronika’s husband appeared in the doorway, they looked exhausted from the journey. Their faces were offended, and wheeled suitcases stood beside them.
Sofia Petrovna gave them a strained smile.
“Come in. I’m sorry nobody met you. Your arrival was unexpected. You really should have warned us.”
“We waited at the station for two hours. Nobody came. Some family,” Veronika added as she began inspecting the room.
Everything was just as it had been before.
Raisa criticized everything, Veronika acted offended, and Vadim silently tapped at his phone and yawned, pretending that none of it concerned him.
By evening, Sofia Petrovna sat on the edge of the bed in her bedroom, exhausted and drained. Oleg Pavlovich stood beside her, looking at her from beneath lowered brows.
“Perhaps Nastya could take them to her place? They have more room,” he suggested uncertainly.
“She won’t,” Sofia sighed. “She already has enough to deal with. She’s pregnant and still working. I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t want to upset her. And she shouldn’t have to endure all of this again.”
By then, the guests had already unpacked their belongings.
Veronika casually hinted, “I hear Nastya has a very nice apartment. Right in the center, in a new building. Vadim and I would probably have more fun staying there.”
“And it’s so cramped here,” Raisa Petrovna added, making her own intentions equally obvious.
Sofia Petrovna merely nodded, unable to respond.
Everything was happening again.
It was as though time had completed a circle.
On Sunday, as previously planned, Nastya and Artyom invited the visitors to their apartment—but only for the evening.
As soon as Veronika entered, she looked around in obvious surprise. The apartment had high ceilings, panoramic windows, and a bright Scandinavian minimalist interior. It was both stylish and exceptionally comfortable.
“Well, would you look at this,” Veronika said, unable to conceal her admiration. “You’ve done very well for yourself, Nastya. It looks like something from a magazine. Vadim and I could stay here for a while. It would be more fun than staying with the old folks.”
Raisa also looked around as though she were taking a guided tour.
“So, son-in-law, how are things going? I suppose you have a mortgage? Or was the apartment a gift?”
Artyom merely nodded as though he had not heard the question, while Nastya invited everyone to the table.
The conversation was strained.
Veronika described the exhibitions they had already visited and complained about how desperately they had been “missing a cultural environment.” Raisa Petrovna complained about the neighbors, the stores, and the weather.
Vadim ate with great enthusiasm.
Artyom kept the conversation going out of politeness, but he occasionally glanced at Nastya. She was holding herself together, but he could see that she was growing tired.
When the clock reached seven in the evening, Artyom stood up, collected the empty plates, and spoke evenly.
“Well, it was a pleasant evening. It’s time for everyone to head home. Nastya has work tomorrow, and she needs to rest. Pregnancy is no small matter.”
Raisa Petrovna raised her eyebrows.
“We thought we might stay the night here. That way, we wouldn’t have to drag ourselves all the way back.”
“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible,” Artyom replied gently but firmly. “Besides, we have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning.”
They escorted the visitors out and closed the door behind them.
The apartment became quiet.
For the first time that day, it was truly peaceful.
But the silence did not last long.
On Monday afternoon, Nastya received a call from her father.
“Nastya, come over. Your mother is unwell. We called an ambulance.”
Nastya and Artyom left immediately.
When they arrived, they saw the ambulance parked outside the building. A neighbor stood nearby and waved them over.
Inside the apartment, her mother was lying on the sofa. Her face was pale, and a damp cloth had been placed on her forehead. Raisa and Veronika sat nearby, silent and confused.
The doctor approached Nastya and handed her a prescription.
“It’s nothing critical. Her blood pressure rose sharply, and her body is exhausted. She needs rest, vitamins, and quiet. At her age, she shouldn’t try to be a hero.”
Nastya walked over to her mother and took her hand.
Sofia Petrovna looked at her through clouded eyes and managed to say, “Everything’s all right, sweetheart. I’m just… tired.”
Artyom stepped closer and stopped in the doorway. Looking directly at Raisa, he spoke calmly.
“Listen… Don’t you think this has gone far enough? Sofia Petrovna has become ill. She needs peace and quiet, while you’re behaving as though you’re staying at a resort.”
“What?” Raisa flared up. “So now we’re in the way?”
Nastya immediately intervened. Her voice was clear and calm.
“Mom is exhausted. She genuinely feels unwell. We can’t allow you to remain here any longer. Please give us your passports, and we’ll buy you train tickets. Or, if you wish to remain in the city, you can move to a hotel.”
“But we have theater tickets for the day after tomorrow!” Veronika protested.
“The theater is wonderful,” Nastya said with a nod. “But not at the expense of someone else’s health.”
Raisa exhaled loudly but did not argue. Veronika turned toward the window.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Nastya stood beside the kitchen window and watched her father slowly walking toward the pharmacy to collect the medicine.
Meanwhile, Artyom sat at the table with his laptop and booked the tickets.
“Tomorrow morning,” he said without looking up. “There was nothing earlier. We’ll pay for the tickets ourselves so they leave as soon as possible.”
Nastya nodded.
In the other room, Raisa and Veronika whispered and grumbled under their breath. Nastya could hear them opening cupboards and packing their belongings.
Sofia Petrovna lay in the bedroom with an extra pillow beneath her head. She no longer attempted to get up, rush around, or participate in anything.
“Mom…” Nastya said, sitting beside her. “From now on, you’re going to rest. No more saying, ‘We’ll endure it.’ Agreed?”
Sofia Petrovna nodded.
Gratitude appeared in her eyes.
Nastya embraced her and realized that everything had finally fallen into place.
Later, while Artyom was driving the visitors to the train station, Veronika made one final attempt at a sarcastic remark.
“I never thought you were this kind of people. You bought us tickets as though you were throwing us out.”
Artyom looked into the rearview mirror and answered calmly.
“That’s enough. There will be no more visits like this. Showing up uninvited and imposing yourselves on people isn’t normal.”
Raisa snorted but did not respond.
Their farewell at the station was cold. There were no embraces and no promises to visit again.
That evening, Nastya sat quietly for a long time, wrapped in a blanket. She watched night descend over the city and felt only one thing:
The anxiety inside her was gone.
Her home was her fortress.
Her mother was protected.
And her child would be born into a world where people had the right to say no.