Elena stood at the window, watching an overloaded GAZelle van pull into the courtyard. Her heart tightened with anxiety—she knew what that meant. For three days now Andrey had been walking around the apartment with a guilty look, clearly gearing up for a serious conversation.
“Len,” he began cautiously the night before, “remember I told you Ira is having problems with her apartment?”
Elena remembered. Andrey’s sister had been renting a two-room place on the edge of town for four years. She lived there with her husband, Sergei, and their two children—ten-year-old Max and six-year-old Dasha. The apartment was fine, the landlady reasonable, but there was a snag—the landlady’s daughter was getting married, and the newlyweds needed somewhere to live. The tenants had to go…
“They asked to stay with us for a while,” Andrey went on, avoiding his wife’s eyes. “You know, until they find something…”
Elena nodded silently. What could she say? Ira was her husband’s only sister; they had a warm relationship; you don’t abandon family in trouble. And the trouble, she had to admit, was serious—you can’t put a family with two children out on the street.
“How long?” was all she asked.
“Two, three weeks at most,” Andrey replied hurriedly. “They’re looking hard. Sergei even brought in a realtor.”
Now, watching boxes, suitcases, children’s bikes, and a cat carrier being unloaded from the van, Elena understood that “two or three weeks” didn’t look likely.
The children ran into the building first—Max carrying a backpack and a soccer ball, Dasha hauling a huge stuffed toy and excitedly telling her brother something. The adults followed—Ira with the cat in its carrier, Sergei with the suitcases, Andrey with boxes.
“Lena!” Ira exclaimed joyfully as soon as she crossed the threshold. “Thank you so much for agreeing to take us in. We’ll be out as soon as we can…”
Elena hugged her sister-in-law, genuinely feeling for her. Ira had always been a good, slightly helpless woman. She married young, right after college, had children, and since then her world had been bounded by family and home. She worked remotely—something to do with design—but her husband still made most of the decisions.
“Mom, where are we going to sleep?” Dasha asked at once, looking around.
Elena and Andrey’s two-room apartment was cozy but compact. The larger room was their bedroom, the smaller a living room with a sofa and an armchair, the kitchen ten square meters, the bathroom and toilet separate. For two—perfect; for six…
“We’ll take the sofa in the living room,” Ira said quickly. “And the kids… maybe we’ll throw mattresses on the floor in the living room? Or on the floor in the front room?”
“There’s already a sofa in the front room,” Andrey noted. “The kids will fit.”
“And the cat?” Dasha suddenly worried.
“The cat will live in the hallway,” Sergei decided. “There’s room for a litter box there.”
In two hours the cozy apartment had turned into something between a communal flat and a dormitory. The kids’ things took over the living room, the adults’ suitcases lined the corridor, the cat settled in the bathroom—“temporarily, until he gets used to it.” The air held the smell of other people, other food, someone else’s life.
Elena silently watched her personal space vanish before her eyes. What struck her most was how naturally everyone made themselves at home. As if this weren’t her apartment at all but some kind of common territory.
“Lena, where do you keep your toilet paper?” Ira asked, walking into the bathroom with a makeup bag.
“In the cabinet under the sink.”
“And may I take a towel? We haven’t moved all our stuff yet.”
“Of course.”
By evening it was absolutely clear that their usual life was over. The children raced around playing hide-and-seek, the cat meowed for attention, the adults discussed housing-hunt plans.
“Tomorrow we’ll go to the agency on Komsomolskaya—there’s a nice girl working there,” Sergei was saying. “And the day after we’ll drive around the area in the morning, maybe something will suit.”
“Just nothing too expensive,” Ira sighed. “Our budget is limited.”
“We’ll find something,” Andrey said confidently. “Worst case, you can stay with us a little longer.”
Elena turned sharply toward her husband. Longer? She caught his eye—Andrey looked embarrassed and quickly turned away.
“All right, I’ll make dinner,” Elena said, heading to the kitchen.
Automatically, she began pulling food from the fridge, calculating how many people to cook for. Usually she bought for two, three at most with a little margin. Now there were six people in the apartment, including children who ate no less than adults.
“What’s for dinner?” Max peeked into the kitchen.
“I don’t know yet,” Elena answered honestly.
“At home Mom always made cutlets with mashed potatoes,” Dasha chimed in immediately.
“We’re out of cutlets,” Elena said, peeking into the freezer.
For six people she had a chicken, a pack of pasta, some vegetables, and the remains of yesterday’s soup. Would that be enough?
“Lena, don’t worry,” Ira came into the kitchen. “We’re not picky. We eat whatever there is.”
“Yeah, but there may not be enough for everyone.”
“We’ll go to the store tomorrow and stock up.”
Elena nodded silently and started cutting up the chicken. For some reason she had a feeling that tomorrow’s trip to the store would also end up on her shoulders.
Dinner turned out modest indeed. Chicken with pasta for six is not at all the same as for two. The children ate with appetite, the adults pretended it was enough.
“Thank you, it’s very tasty,” Ira said gratefully.
“Yeah, excellent,” Sergei seconded.
After dinner everyone went off to their improvised sleeping spots. Elena cleaned up the kitchen alone—the others were busy putting the kids to bed and settling in for the night.
“How’s it going?” Andrey asked, coming into the kitchen.
“Fine,” his wife answered curtly.
“Don’t worry, they’ll find a place soon.”
“Uh-huh.”
Andrey felt the chill in her voice but decided not to push it. Enough stress for everyone today.
In the morning Elena woke to children’s laughter and the patter of feet in the corridor. The clock read half past six. Usually she got up at seven, but today the children had clearly decided to start the day earlier.
“Quiet, quiet,” Ira’s voice could be heard. “Uncle and Aunt are still sleeping.”
But it was too late—Elena was awake and couldn’t fall back asleep.
In the kitchen she found a mountain of dirty dishes—apparently one of the adults had made themselves a late tea, and the kids had eaten something sweet.
“Good morning!” Ira greeted her brightly. “I was going to wash the dishes but I don’t know where you keep everything.”
“I’ll do it,” Elena replied automatically.
Breakfast turned into a logistics test. Andrey drank coffee as he got ready for work, Sergei was in a hurry too, Ira fed the children, and Elena darted among them all, trying to feed and get everyone out the door.
“Len, do we have any cereal?” Ira asked.
“I think so.”
“And yogurt?”
“One left.”
“Dasha, eat cereal,” Ira told her daughter.
“I don’t want cereal, I want yogurt like at home,” the girl pouted.
“Dasha, there’s one yogurt and there are two of you kids,” Elena explained patiently.
“Then let Max not eat.”
“I want it too!” the boy protested.
“Kids, enough,” Ira intervened. “You’ll eat cereal, that’s it.”
By the time the men had left for work and the children settled down, Elena felt like she’d run a marathon. And this was only the morning of the first day.
“Ira, don’t you work?” she asked her sister-in-law.
“I do, but remotely. I’ll sit down at the computer now. And the kids can watch cartoons—they’re quiet when they watch.”
Elena nodded and went to her bedroom—the only place in the apartment where a small island of her former life still remained.
But half an hour later her peace was broken.
“Aunt Lena,” Dasha knocked on the door. “Can I have a drink?”
Elena gave the child some water and went back to the room.
Twenty minutes later:
“Aunt Lena, I need to go to the bathroom.”
Half an hour after that:
“Aunt Lena, Mom said to ask if we can run the washing machine?”
By lunchtime Elena realized it was impossible to work from home under such conditions. The children kept asking for something, the cat meowed, Ira talked to clients on the phone.
“Lena, what are we going to eat?” Ira asked at one o’clock.
“I don’t know. What do you usually eat?”
“Oh, we’ll whip something up. Do you have potatoes?”
“Yes, but not many.”
“And meat?”
“Chicken in the freezer.”
“Perfect, we’ll make chicken with potatoes.”
Elena noticed that Ira said “we’ll make,” but for some reason headed not for the stove, but for the sofa with her laptop.
“Are you going to cook?” Elena clarified.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Ira said absent-mindedly. “It’s just I have to turn in a project by three. Maybe you can start, and I’ll jump in?”
Elena went to the kitchen without a word.
By evening she was at the breaking point. Over the day she had cooked, washed dishes twice, calmed the cat who still couldn’t get used to the new place, and answered an endless stream of children’s questions. She hadn’t managed to work at all.
When the men returned from work, the atmosphere in the house was tense.
“How is it?” Andrey asked his wife.
“Depends,” Elena answered coolly.
At dinner Sergei reported on the apartment hunt:
“We saw two places today, but neither will do. One’s too expensive, the other is in terrible condition. Tomorrow we’ll look at a few more options.”
“Don’t rush,” Andrey said magnanimously. “We’ve got plenty of room.”
Elena shot her husband a sharp look. Plenty of room? In a two-room apartment for six?
“Well, yeah, we’re not here forever,” Ira said uncertainly.
“Of course not forever, but while you’re looking—live in peace.”
After dinner, when the children were in bed and the others settled in the living room to watch TV, Elena asked her husband into the kitchen.
“Andrey, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“The situation. It’s harder than I thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I didn’t understand what we were getting into. The children are constantly noisy, it’s impossible to work, I’m cooking for a crowd, cleaning up after everyone…”
“Lena, just put up with it a little. She’s my sister.”
“I understand. But why do I have to do everything?”
“Who else? Ira deals with the kids, the men go to work.”
“And what am I, not working?”
“Well, you’re at home…”
“Being at home doesn’t mean being free!”
Andrey fell silent, then sighed:
“Okay, I’ll talk to Ira. She should help more.”
“And Sergei too.”
“And Sergei.”
But the next day nothing changed. Ira was still busy with work and the kids, the men left for their jobs, and Elena stewed in the chaos of someone else’s family life.
By the end of the third day her patience snapped.
“Listen,” Elena said at dinner. “Let’s set up kitchen duty, shall we? As it is, I’m the only one cooking.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Ira agreed hastily. “I’ll cook tomorrow.”
“And we’ll take turns washing dishes,” Elena added.
“Naturally,” Sergei nodded.
But in the morning Ira announced she had urgent work and asked Elena to “cover for her.” Sergei left early and would be back late. Andrey was busy too.
“So it’s me again,” Elena concluded.
“Well, sorry, circumstances,” Ira spread her hands.
That evening Elena couldn’t hold back:
“Andrey, this can’t go on.”
“What exactly?”
“I’ve become the service staff for the whole family. I cook, clean, mind the kids. Everyone else just lives here like it’s a hotel.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Really? Then answer me—who cooked breakfast today?”
“Well… you.”
“Lunch?”
“You.”
“Dinner?”
“You too, but—”
“Who washed the dishes?”
“Lena, that’s enough. I get it—it’s hard for you right now.”
“Hard? It’s not hard, it’s unfair! Why should I support an entire family?”
“Support? They won’t be here forever!”
“It’s already been a week. And no progress. What’s more, yesterday Ira said the good options won’t appear for another month.”
“Well, a month, two months—no big deal.”
“Not a big deal for you! You leave in the morning and come back to a ready dinner. And I…”
“And you sit at home, so it’s not that hard for you…”
“Stop!” Elena went pale with outrage. “I sit at home? I work! Remotely, but I work! And I can’t work, because I’m constantly feeding someone, cleaning up after someone, entertaining someone!”
Andrey realized he’d gone too far.
“Okay, okay. Tomorrow I’ll have a serious talk with Ira. We’ll distribute duties.”
“And with Sergei too.”
“And with Sergei.”
But the next day the talk boiled down to vague phrases about mutual help and understanding. No concrete decisions were made.
That evening an incident occurred that overflowed the cup.
Elena was making dinner when Andrey came up to her:
“By the way, I forgot to tell you. Tomorrow Ira’s kids start school and kindergarten—they’ve been placed temporarily in the district. So we’ll need to get breakfast ready earlier.”
“All right.”
“And pack them lunches.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And Ira says they’re running out of clean clothes for the kids. Maybe you could do some laundry?”
“Maybe she could do it herself?”
“She doesn’t know how our machine works.”
“She’ll learn.”
Andrey was silent for a moment, then added:
“And anyway, since there are more of us now, you’ll have to cook more.”
Elena turned to her husband.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they’ll be eating at home all the time now…”
“And?”
“You’ll be cooking for my sister’s family too,” her husband said in a peremptory tone—and instantly regretted it.
Elena set down the knife she’d been using to chop vegetables. Very slowly, she turned to her husband. On her face was an expression Andrey had never seen before.
“Say that again,” she said quietly.
“Say what again?”
“What you just said. About how I will be cooking.”
Andrey suddenly realized he’d said the wrong thing. But it was too late to backtrack.
“Well… I mean you’ll be cooking… given there are more of us now…”
“I’ll be cooking,” Elena repeated. “I see.”
She silently took off her apron, hung it on a hook, and left the kitchen.
“Lena, where are you going?” Andrey asked, flustered.
“To the bedroom.”
“And dinner?”
“What about dinner? You said I’ll be cooking. So I will. When I decide to.”
Elena locked herself in the bedroom and sat on the bed. Her hands trembled slightly—from anger, hurt, exhaustion. In two weeks she had turned from a wife into a maid. And her husband didn’t even see what was wrong with that.
She got up, pulled a large suitcase from the closet, and began packing her husband’s things into it. Shirts, trousers, underwear, socks. Everything neatly, just as she always folded it.
After a while Elena closed the suitcase and carried it into the living room, where the whole family was watching television.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, setting the suitcase in the middle of the room. “I have a proposal.”
Everyone turned to look.
“I’ve packed what Andrey needs for the first little while. I think it’ll be more convenient for everyone if you move out to Mom’s dacha. It’s a spacious house—there’s enough room for all of you.”
“Lena, what are you doing?” Ira asked, bewildered.
“I’m thinking about your comfort. At Mom’s dacha the children will have space to play, and the adults won’t feel cramped.”
“But we’ve already settled in here…” Sergei began.
“You have, yes. I haven’t. In two weeks I’ve realized I can’t handle the role you’ve assigned me.”
“What role?” Sergei didn’t understand.
“Cook, cleaner, nanny, and laundress rolled into one.”
Silence fell.
“Lena,” Ira said carefully. “If you think we’re taking advantage…”
“I don’t think. I know. For two weeks I’ve been feeding you, cleaning up, watching the kids, and doing laundry. Alone. And today I was informed, in a tone of command, that this is how it would continue.”
Everyone looked at Andrey.
“Lena, I didn’t mean it like an order…” he began.
“Exactly like an order. ‘You’ll cook for my sister’s family.’ No options, no discussion.”
“But that’s not how I meant it…”
“How did you mean it? Explain to everyone.”
Andrey said nothing.
“Exactly,” Elena said. “So I suggest you all go to Mom’s together. There you can calmly think through how you’re going to live from now on. And when you come up with a plan for how we can all coexist, sharing not only rights but duties, you can come back and discuss it with me.”
“Lena,” Andrey said helplessly. “That’s silly…”
“What’s silly? That I don’t want to be a maid in my own home?”
“We don’t think of you as a maid!”
“Really? Then tell me—who cooked last in this house?”
Silence.
“Who washed the dishes last night?”
Silence.
“Who washed the children’s clothes the day before yesterday?”
“Well, we can…”
“You can—but you don’t. And I can—so I do. For everyone.”
Elena picked up the car keys from the table.
“I’ll drive you to Mom’s. Pack up.”
“Lena, don’t be so drastic,” Ira pleaded. “Let’s just talk…”
“About what? About how I should service a family of six? We’ve talked. Several times. You can see the result.”
“We’ll figure it out, we’ll assign chores,” Sergei hurried to say.
“Wonderful. Then figure it out. At the dacha. There’s more space there—and time to think.”
“Mom, what’s going on?” Max asked.
“Nothing scary, sweetheart. We’re just going to visit Grandma.”
“For good?”
“Not yet. For a little while.”
An hour later the whole family was in the car on the way to the dacha. Elena drove in silence; the others didn’t talk either.
At the dacha they were met by Andrey’s mother, a spry seventy-year-old woman.
“What brings you all here?” she said, surprised.
“Mom, we’re here to visit,” Andrey said awkwardly.
“All of you? For long?”
“For a little while,” Elena answered. “They need to think through some questions about organizing a shared household.”
The older woman looked closely at her daughter-in-law, then at her son.
“I see,” she said. “Come in, there’s room for everyone.”
Elena helped unload the things and got ready to leave.
“Lena,” Andrey caught up with her. “This is all silly. Let’s go home and calmly talk it out.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. You wanted me to cook and clean for everyone? Fine. But I’ll do it on my schedule and on my terms. In the meantime, think about my proposal.”
“What proposal?”
“To distribute the responsibilities evenly among all the adults. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, childcare. Everything in turns, everything fair.”
“But…”
“No ‘buts.’ Either everyone participates in the housework, or they live separately.”
“And if we agree?”
“Then come back and show me the schedule—who does what and when—signed by all participants.”
The next day, for the first time in two weeks, Elena slept properly. She woke at eight, not to children’s screams but naturally. She made herself coffee and ate breakfast in peace. She worked without interruptions for kids’ questions and a cat’s meowing.
In the evening Andrey called.
“Lena, we’ve been thinking…”
“And?”
“You’re right. We really dumped too much on you.”
“Go on.”
“Mom gave us a dressing-down. Said we’re acting like selfish people.”
“A wise woman.”
“We drew up a schedule. Want me to read it to you?”
“Better show me when you come.”
“Can we come tomorrow?”
“You can. But bring the schedule. And make sure everyone has signed it.”
The next day the family returned.
“Lena, forgive us,” Ira said. “We really behaved terribly.”
“We didn’t grasp at first how bad it was,” Sergei added.
Andrey handed his wife a sheet of paper.
“Here’s our schedule.”
Elena studied the document. Everything was laid out by days and hours: breakfasts were cooked in turn by all the adults, lunches too, dinners too. The dishes were washed after each meal by the person who cooked. Cleaning was done in rotation. Each person did their own laundry and their children’s. The parents, not Aunt Lena, watched the kids.
“Looks reasonable,” Elena said. “But it’s only on paper.”
“We’ll stick to it,” Ira promised.
“Absolutely,” Sergei echoed.
“We’ll see,” Elena said.
And in fact, life changed. In the first days everyone conscientiously fulfilled their duties. Ira got up early and made breakfast according to the schedule. Sergei washed the dishes after dinner. Andrey vacuumed on weekends. The children no longer ran to Elena with every question.
Of course there were lapses. Ira sometimes forgot it was her day to cook, citing work. Sergei once or twice “didn’t notice” the dirty dishes. Andrey tried to shift the cleaning to his wife, pleading exhaustion.
But now Elena didn’t stay silent. She calmly reminded them of their agreements and demanded they be honored.
“Ira, today is your day to make breakfast.”
“Oh, I totally forgot. My project is on fire—maybe you could…”
“No. You have half an hour before the kids need to be up. In half an hour you can make porridge.”
“Sergei, the dishes from last night’s dinner are still dirty.”
“Ah, yeah, sorry. I got home late from work…”
“I understand. But a deal is a deal.”
“Andrey, it’s Saturday—deep-cleaning day. You’re down for vacuuming and mopping.”
“Len, I’m wiped out from the week…”
“We’re all tired. But the apartment needs to be clean.”
Gradually everyone got used to the new routine. Even the children joined in—they learned to put away their toys and help their parents with simple tasks.
A month later, Ira and Sergei found a new apartment.
“You know,” Ira admitted to Elena before they moved out, “I’m actually glad it worked out this way.”
“Why?”
“At home our chores were a mess. Sergei only worked, I only did the kids, and no one really cleaned. Now we’ve gotten used to doing everything by schedule. And the kids have gotten used to helping.”
“That’s good,” Elena said.
“Thank you. For not letting us climb onto your shoulders.”
“You’re welcome.”
On moving day everyone gathered in the kitchen to say goodbye and take stock.
“Lena,” Andrey said. “I’m sorry about that evening. About what I said about cooking. It was boorish.”
“Let’s forget it,” his wife replied.
“No, let’s not. I realized then I was acting like a despot. I don’t want to be like that anymore.”
“Good.”
“And actually… maybe we should make a schedule for ourselves too? For our regular life?”
Elena smiled.
“You know, that’s not a bad idea.”
When the relatives left and the apartment was quiet and spacious again, Andrey asked:
“Do you regret being so tough?”
“No,” Elena answered honestly. “If I’d kept quiet, we would have continued living like that. You would have gotten used to giving orders, they to taking advantage, and I would have turned into a maid.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I’m definitely right. A family isn’t an army. There can’t be orders and unquestioning obedience here.”
“I understand.”
“And one more thing, Andrey. If you ever again decide you can order me around, remember that evening. Remember the suitcase and the dacha.”
Andrey nodded.
“I’ll remember.”
And six months later, when they met Ira and Sergei at a birthday party, Ira said proudly:
“Imagine—the kids clean their rooms themselves. Themselves! And Sergei learned how to cook borscht. And I mastered the vacuum cleaner.”
“That’s great,” Elena smiled.
“All thanks to you. If you hadn’t shaken us up back then, we’d still be living in chaos.”
“‘Shaken up’ is putting it mildly,” Sergei laughed. “You basically kicked us out.”
“I didn’t kick you out. I suggested you think.”
“Right—think at the dacha,” Andrey snorted. “With a suitcase in hand.”
“At least we thought,” Ira said. “And now our home is in order.”
“Now your family is fair,” Elena corrected her. “And that’s the basis of any order.”
And indeed, from then on no one in their family gave orders anymore. Questions were decided together; chores were shared equally. And the phrase “you will cook” was never again spoken as a command.
Because everyone remembered the evening when Elena packed the suitcase and showed that there can be no servants in a family. There can only be equal partners, ready to share both joys and responsibilities.
And Andrey truly did regret his words. And he never forgot the lesson: in a family, you don’t give orders. In a family, you come to an agreement.
