A Quiet Morning

Anna woke up to the sound of a baby crying. It was six-thirty in the morning. The soft cry echoed through the house, making Anna stir awake from a half-sleep. She glanced at the clock and sighed. At thirty-two, on her birthday, of course, the day began as usual—feeding her five-month-old son, Artyom.

He was crying persistently, waving his tiny fists in frustration, and Anna thought, as she always did, that motherhood meant even holidays bowed down to the feeding schedule. Sasha had already left for work—he was busy overseeing his business, which required his daily presence. Three car washes in different parts of the city kept him on his toes. The partners were reliable, but Sasha knew from experience that no business, however well-managed, could succeed without the owner’s watchful eye.

After feeding Artyom, Anna made breakfast. Katya, her twenty-one-year-old sister-in-law, had stayed over the night before. They had spent the previous evening discussing birthday plans, but it was clear that Katya’s mind wasn’t fully invested in the event. She had a university class at noon, though she had already decided it could be skipped.

Anna thought about the sequence of events leading to this birthday. It had all started two years ago when Katya had moved in with them. It was supposed to be temporary. Katya had been accepted to a university in Moscow, and her dorm was far from the city center, with conditions that Anna found unacceptable for a young woman. So, Sasha had suggested she move into Anna’s studio temporarily. A tiny space, only twenty-three square meters, but the location was prime—just a ten-minute walk to the metro, situated almost in the heart of the city.

Anna had bought that studio when she was twenty-six, before she even met Sasha. She’d sold her grandmother’s two-room apartment, added her parents’ savings, and managed to save up enough for a down payment. The studio had turned out to be a great investment. It was in a new building, had a modern renovation, and a quiet courtyard view. It was cozy, and Anna rented it out for years to students. It provided a steady stream of extra income—fifty thousand rubles a month—that made everyday life a bit easier, even allowing for better vacations and nicer clothes.

When Katya moved in, Anna had to let go of that income. The loss was especially painful now that she was on maternity leave. While Sasha’s business was doing well, and Anna was receiving maternity benefits, it wasn’t enough to cover everything. An extra fifty thousand a month would have been a real help, especially with a small child.

A Birthday Gathering

By evening, Anna had prepared a festive table. Nothing extravagant—just Olivier salad, herring under a fur coat, a hot dish, and a bakery cake. It was a modest birthday celebration with a small circle of close friends. The ones who had been with her from before, her peers, the people she could count on. Sasha came home from work tired but in a good mood. The car washes were thriving, and he even had some regular corporate clients. Katya emerged from the bathroom as the guests arrived, wearing a brand-new dress—a gift from Sasha. The dress was expensive, stylish, and looked perfect on her, as if she were modeling for a magazine cover.

The guests arrived in pairs—Irina and her husband Denis, both former colleagues of Anna’s, and then Lena and Maksim, the neighbors they’d befriended even before Artyom was born. It was a small group, all at similar life stages—careers, families, plans for the future. They sat down, popped open some sparkling wine, and congratulated Anna. Conversation flowed easily—vacation plans, work updates, news about mutual friends. Artyom slept in the nursery, occasionally making soft peeps, but otherwise, the celebration proceeded peacefully.

From the very start, Katya took center stage in the conversation. She pulled out her phone, showing off photos from university, talking about professors, sharing news. She spoke animatedly, with youthful energy and a sense of absolutism. The guests listened, charmed by her confidence and ambition. She was twenty-one, after all, with the world at her feet.

“And we, girls, have such plans for the summer!” Katya’s eyes sparkled as she spoke. “We’re going to Lake Baikal with a big group. Imagine—two weeks in nature, tents, campfires, real romance!”

“Sounds wonderful,” Irina smiled, her voice tinged with envy. “I’ve always dreamed of going there, but it never worked out.”

“Oh, it’ll be unforgettable!” Katya gushed. “There are eight of us from our group. We’ll rent two cars—definitely SUVs, so we can drive the mountain roads. And we’re planning to rent ATVs for a few days—they say riding them through the forests around there is just fantastic.”

Katya continued, scrolling through photos online, showing her friends various scenic views of Baikal, mountain landscapes, and tourist routes. She described the trip with such excitement, it was as if it were already planned and booked. And as she spoke, Anna mentally calculated the sums. A few weeks ago, her friend Svetlana had described her own trip to Baikal, and they had spent over three hundred thousand rubles for the two of them, and that was with basic accommodations and meals.

Anna, ever the practical one, couldn’t help but wonder about the finances. “What about the finances?” she asked carefully. “That can’t be cheap.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal,” Katya waved it off. “We’re saving a little bit at a time, pooling our money together. Besides, I’m a straight-A student—I deserve to be spoiled.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “About how much per person?”

Katya paused for a second, clearly doing the math in her head. “Well, we haven’t calculated exactly. Maybe a hundred fifty thousand, two hundred. It depends on the program we choose.”

Anna pressed further. “And with all your activities included? Car rentals, ATVs, helicopter tours—those aren’t cheap.”

Katya tensed slightly, sensing that Anna was getting uncomfortable. “Maybe it’ll be more. So what? Is there some problem?”

Anna took a deep breath. “No, I’m just curious. It’s quite a serious sum for students.”

Katya, annoyed now, laughed dismissively. “We’re not beggars, Anna. We’re normal people. We can afford a good vacation.”

Anna didn’t flinch. “Of course,” she said, trying to remain calm. “But how are you funding this trip? Are you working, doing part-time jobs?”

Katya laughed out loud. “What work? Our program is packed—languages, internships. There’s no time for side jobs.”

Anna felt a tinge of disbelief. “Then where is the money for Baikal coming from?”

Katya hesitated, her face turning pale as she realized she’d cornered herself. “Well… the family will help. Parents understand you have to enjoy your youth.”

Anna’s eyes narrowed. “Your parents are ready to lay out a quarter of a million for your vacation?”

“A quarter of a million?!” Katya flared up. “Where are you getting those numbers?”

“From real life, Katya,” Anna said quietly. “If you add up all your plans honestly, it won’t be less. Maybe more.”

Tension thickened in the air. The guests could feel the shift in mood, sensing the conversation had turned sour. Sasha stood, his glass half-raised, staring at his sister. Anna’s face went pale as she continued, methodically, counting the cost of Katya’s lifestyle.

The Breakdown

Anna slowly stood up and walked to the window, taking a moment to gather herself. When she turned to face Katya again, there was an undeniable steel in her gaze. “All right, Katya. Let’s figure out who’s living at whose expense here.”

Katya’s face began to blanch. She was starting to feel the weight of Anna’s words, but she refused to back down.

“You live in my apartment,” Anna began, voice calm but steady. “In the studio I bought when I was twenty-six. Do you pay me rent for that apartment?”

“No, but—”

“No. Not a kopeck. Before you moved in, I rented that studio out for fifty thousand rubles a month. In the two years you’ve lived there, I’ve lost one million two hundred thousand rubles. And that’s just the lost income, not counting utilities.”

Katya’s mouth went dry.

“Who pays for your university?” Anna asked.

“Mom,” Katya whispered.

“Correct. Four hundred thousand rubles a year. Plus tutors in three languages. That’s over half a million just for education. Who pays the utilities in the studio, the internet, your mobile plan?”

“Sasha…”

“Sasha. That’s another twenty thousand a month, two hundred forty thousand a year. What do you use to buy food?”

“The money Sasha gives me…”

“Sasha’s money. And your pocket expenses—cafés, taxis, clothes, entertainment—also on him. How much do you spend a month?”

Katya was silent now, lips trembling.

“At least thirty thousand. I know, because Sasha tells me how much he transfers to your card. That’s three hundred sixty thousand a year.”

Anna was relentless. Each word hit like a hammer.

“Two million rubles a year go to you alone. And you’re telling me I’m living off someone else?” Anna shook her head. “I’ve been on maternity leave for four months. Before that I worked hard for five years, earned a salary, paid taxes. Childcare benefits are my right. And how much have you earned in your life? Even one ruble?”

Katya’s face flushed red. She was speechless.

“You’re living off other people’s money, Katya. And you accuse me of living off the family?”

Sasha, who had been silent until now, looked at his sister with a steely expression. “Katya, do you understand what you’ve just said?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You insulted my wife,” Sasha’s voice was low but firm. “On her birthday. In our home. A woman who has tolerated your nonsense for two years and never once complained about the income she lost.”

The weight of Sasha’s words was enough to make Katya crumble. She burst into tears, but Anna was unyielding.

“You know what, dear sister-in-law? As of tomorrow, everything changes.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re moving out of my apartment,” Anna said calmly. “Two weeks from now. To a dorm, a rental, anywhere—but not my property.”

“Anna, why—”

“All funding from our side stops. Pocket money, food money, paying the utilities—everything stops.”

Katya sobbed, clinging to Sasha. “Sasha, say something! I didn’t mean it! It just slipped out!”

Sasha gently pulled away. “I fully support my wife. You’ve crossed every line.”

The Aftermath

Katya moved out. A week later, she started working as a waitress to earn her own money. Anna had the studio rented again, and the monthly income returned to the family budget.

Through all of this, Anna learned the real lesson: sometimes a birthday isn’t just a celebration. It’s a time for truth—especially when the words spoken in haste come back to haunt the speaker.