Evelina had always prided herself on her sense of order and discipline, but nothing in her life had prepared her for the nightmare that unfolded on her thirty-second birthday. She woke up early to the sound of her five-month-old son Artyom crying from the nursery, as usual. No matter the occasion, motherhood took precedence over any celebration, and today was no different. She groggily glanced at the clock—it was half past six. Sasha, her husband, had already left for work, as he always did. His car wash business demanded daily attention, with three locations in the city. Despite the reliable partners, Sasha’s presence was always needed to keep things running smoothly.

After feeding Artyom and putting him back in the crib, Evelina prepared a quick breakfast. Katya, Sasha’s younger sister, had stayed over the previous night. The two had been discussing Evelina’s birthday plans for the day, but Evelina had no idea what lay ahead. Katya had already made herself comfortable in their two-room apartment, a space that was beginning to feel smaller by the minute.

“Katya, time to get up!” Evelina called out, knocking on the door of the guest room. “You’ve got university today.”

Katya groaned from behind the door. “I only have one class, just a seminar on journalism theory. I can skip it.”

At twenty-one, Katya saw herself as a seasoned professional, always talking about global trends and the media space, but practical matters, like budgeting or household responsibilities, seemed to elude her. She had come to Moscow to study at university two years ago, and with the dormitories far from the center, she found herself moving into Evelina and Sasha’s apartment temporarily.

Evelina had been reluctant at first. Their apartment was small—only twenty-three square meters. But Sasha convinced her. It was a short-term arrangement, he promised. Katya would stay for a few weeks, maybe two at most.

The next day, Katya’s arrival was anything but small-scale. Evelina had barely returned from work when the doorbell rang, and there they were—Sasha’s relatives—three adults, each with large suitcases. It felt as if they were planning to stay for a month rather than two weeks.

Aunt Tamara was the first to greet Evelina, a cheerful woman of about fifty, her loud lipstick and gold teeth flashing in the light as she walked into the apartment. “Evelina, dear! You’ve gotten so skinny! Is Sasha not feeding you properly?”

Evelina managed a polite smile, but her mind raced. Her guest room was already occupied, and she had been forced to give up her own bedroom to Sasha’s relatives. The moment her sister-in-law arrived, it was clear that things were not going to go smoothly.

“Where’s the toilet?” asked Pyotr, Tamara’s husband, his red face and foul breath indicating that he had already started his day with a drink.

Meanwhile, Marina, Katya’s cousin, wasted no time and asked, “Where’s our room, Aunt Eva? The master bedroom’s ours, right?”

Evelina felt an overwhelming surge of frustration, but Sasha just smiled and reassured them, “Of course! We’ll make it work.”

The days that followed were an unmitigated disaster. Tamara immediately took charge of the kitchen, moving things around, cleaning out the pantry, and demanding that Evelina cook in a way that suited her tastes. When Evelina hesitated, Tamara’s voice rang out, “What kind of poor supplies are these? Just rice and buckwheat! Where’s the barley? Where are the decent tinned stews?”

Evelina tried to maintain her composure, but Pyotr’s behavior only added to the chaos. He refused to wear clothes around the house, causing Evelina to ask, “Uncle Pyotr, could you please put some clothes on?” But instead of understanding, he snapped back, “Why should I? I walk around my house how I want!”

The tension was unbearable. In just one week, Evelina’s peaceful life had been completely overturned. Katya was no longer the quiet guest, but a demanding, entitled member of the household who expected everything handed to her. Marina took over the bathroom, and Pyotr smoked on the balcony, regardless of Evelina’s repeated requests for him to stop.

By the time the second week rolled around, Evelina had reached her breaking point. She walked into the living room one morning to find a strange man sprawled out on her bed—Marina’s friend, Vadik, who had moved in with no warning. He was lying there, reading Evelina’s personal diary, which was the last straw.

“What are you doing in my room?” Evelina demanded, trying to stay calm.

Vadik barely looked up. “I’m just hanging out. Marinka said we could chill here. She’s the mistress of this place, right?”

Evelina’s blood ran cold. “No! I’m the mistress of this house! And you’re leaving right now!” she shouted, her voice cracking with anger.

At that moment, Tamara stormed in, followed by Pyotr and Marina. “What’s all this hysterics?” she demanded. “Evelina, you’ve lost your mind! Vadik’s our guest!”

Evelina felt betrayed and trapped in her own home. Ignat, her husband, walked in with a sandwich and looked at her blankly. “Eva, what’s the problem?”

Her face flushed red with fury. “What’s the problem?! You’ve turned my home into a circus! I don’t recognize my own space anymore. A stranger is in my bed, the apartment is filthy, and my husband doesn’t even care!”

Tamara rolled her eyes. “Oh, Eva, don’t be such a drama queen. The sheets can be washed. And the diary—who even keeps those anymore?”

The situation escalated when Ignat’s mother, Klavdiya, arrived. She took the side of the relatives immediately, reprimanding Evelina for not being more welcoming. “When you married Ignat, you knew he had a big family! Now you’re turning your nose up at them?”

Evelina tried to explain her frustration, but Klavdiya refused to listen. “Family comes first!” she snapped, dismissing Evelina’s feelings entirely.

It all came to a head on the twentieth day of their stay when Evelina returned home from work early to find her apartment a complete disaster. The living room was in disarray, alcohol bottles were scattered everywhere, and a strange man was lying in her bed.

Evelina had had enough. She demanded that everyone leave immediately. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” she screamed at Vadik.

“Don’t blow a fuse, lady,” he sneered, completely unbothered.

Evelina’s patience snapped. She began throwing all of their belongings out the door. “Get out! Now!” she yelled.

Ignat tried to intervene, but Evelina was done. “You’ve made your choice, Ignat. I’m done,” she said, her voice calm but resolute.

After that day, Evelina didn’t look back. She enjoyed a few days of peace in her apartment, reclaiming the space she had lost to the chaos of the past three weeks. She didn’t feel guilty; she knew she had done the right thing.

A month later, Evelina received a message from Ignat: “Eva, you were right. They’re unbearable. Can I come back?”

Her response was simple: “No.”

Soon after, Boris, the neighbor, informed her that Ignat and his relatives were now in a legal battle. They had tried to take advantage of Ignat’s “family support” claim and were demanding housing.

“It’s Karma,” Evelina said with a smirk. “Sometimes, justice does exist.”

Two months later, the apartment was rented out again, and Evelina was free of the toxic relatives. She had learned the hard way, but now she could truly enjoy her space, her life, and her peace. No more excuses for the selfish actions of others—she had drawn a line, and she had taken back control.