“Does this desk really have to be right here?”
Veronika paused in the doorway of the office, holding two mugs of tea.
Tamara Leonidovna stood in the middle of the room, her gaze fixed not on Veronika, but on the workspace: a big desk by the window, two monitors, a printer on a stand, and a shelf filled with folders and books. Then she shifted her attention to the folding chair by the wall.
“What do you mean, ‘does it have to’?” Veronika asked.
“Well, you could move it into the living room. There’s plenty of space in there.”
Veronika set one mug down in front of her mother-in-law and kept the second for herself.
“We could. But why would we?”
Tamara Leonidovna looked slightly surprised, as if that question was completely unnecessary.
“To free up this room.”
It was Sunday. Sergey was in the kitchen cutting up meat for roasting, and a cool breeze drifted in through the open window. Just a minute ago, Veronika had assumed her mother-in-law was simply dropping by for lunch.
Turns out, lunch was just a side event.
“Free it up for what?”
“Veronika, for Ilya, of course.”
Now things were getting interesting.
Ilya, Sergey’s younger brother, really was going through a tough time. He was thirty-four, had been married for seven years, and now he and his wife were splitting up. The apartment they lived in had belonged to his wife even before they got married. There was no drama over the property— Ilya understood perfectly well that he’d be the one to move out.
Sergey had told Veronika all about it two days ago.
They had been sitting in the kitchen that evening.
“I feel bad for Ilya,” he said. “It’s tough. Seven years down the drain.”
“Why down the drain?” Veronika objected. “Seven years of life. Things didn’t work out — it happens. The main thing is that they don’t start slinging mud at each other now.”
“Mom’s already gone into action.”
“That’s even scarier than the divorce.”
Sergey laughed.
He knew his own mother all too well.
Tamara Leonidovna was the kind of person who, upon hearing about someone else’s problem, immediately set out to solve it. Sometimes, the person herself hadn’t even realized there was a problem yet.
Veronika was well aware of her mother-in-law’s ways. But until Sunday, she thought it would be limited to finding Ilya a new apartment, packing up his things, or stocking up on homemade cutlets.
Now it turned out that Tamara Leonidovna had already successfully wrapped up the apartment search.
And, in fact, the apartment in question was Veronika’s.
“After the divorce, Ilya will move in here,” her mother-in-law explained. “Not forever, of course. Just for a few months. While he gets back on his feet and sorts out what to do next.”
Veronika glanced at her desk.
“Here — meaning where, exactly?”
“With you.”
“I got that much. But exactly where?”
Tamara Leonidovna pointed at the folding chair.
“He’ll sleep right here. Later, you could put in a small wardrobe. Or move your shelf out.”
“Move it where?”
“To the balcony, for example.”
Veronika took a slow sip of tea.
A conversation like this called for a drink.
This office wasn’t the sort of room couples keep around just in case random relatives show up. Veronika worked here five days a week.
She was a financial analyst and had been working from home for several years. Every morning at 8:30 she switched on her computer, joined calls, built reports, dug through spreadsheets, and printed documents now and then.
Sergey knew all of this very well.
When they got married six years ago and he moved in with Veronika, the third room had already been set up as an office.
The apartment itself was in her life long before Sergey. She bought the three-room place before she even met him, paid off the mortgage entirely before their wedding, and no one else had any share in it.
The bedroom remained the bedroom, the large room was the living room, and the third one was always her workspace.
They bought a folding armchair specifically in case someone needed to stay over for one night.
The word ‘one’ turned out to be a very important detail, which Tamara Leonidovna was clearly choosing to ignore right now.
“Mom,” came a voice from the doorway.
Sergey stood in the hallway with a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder.
“What?”
“Which Ilya is moving in here?”
Tamara Leonidovna turned to her eldest son.
“Your usual brother. You don’t have another one yet.”
“I know which Ilya. But why here?”
Now Tamara Leonidovna was truly baffled as to why two grown adults had so many obvious questions.
“Because he has nowhere else to live.”
“You said he’d need some help.”
“That’s exactly what I was talking about.”
“No,” Sergey shook his head. “You said, ‘Ilya needs help while he sorts out his housing.’ I thought that meant helping him move his things, maybe looking for an apartment, perhaps helping with the deposit. Nobody said anything about him living here.”
“Why does it matter what exactly I said at the time? Now we already have a proper solution.”
Veronika looked at her husband with interest.
Sergey looked just as confused as she was.
That made things slightly better.
Though it didn’t make the apartment any less crowded.
“Alright,” Veronika said. “Let’s say the desk moves to the living room. Where will I work when Sergey turns on the TV at night?”
“You can just not turn it on.”
Sergey raised an eyebrow.
“Great. And what did I do to deserve this?”
“Don’t start. It’s only temporary.”
“And the documents?” Veronika continued.
“Put them in the bedroom.”
“Where, exactly?”
“Veronika, isn’t there room for a few boxes somewhere in a three-room apartment?”
“There is. For example, in the office.”
Tamara Leonidovna pursed her lips in displeasure.
“That’s why it’s so hard to talk to you. I’m talking about family, and you nitpick over every little thing.”
Veronika glanced at her two monitors, printer, and an overloaded shelving unit.
If all that was considered a ‘little thing’, then you might as well call a washing machine a bucket with a cord.
They returned to the kitchen.
Tamara Leonidovna sat at the table and quickly made it clear that this idea hadn’t come to her just five minutes ago.
She had already thought everything through.
Ilya was supposed to move his things in about a week.
No one was expected to pay anything.
Groceries would be a ‘let’s see’ situation.
And in Tamara Leonidovna’s opinion, utility bills weren’t even worth discussing.
“Is your own brother really supposed to pay for staying here?” she exclaimed.
Sergey put down his knife.
“Who said anything about money?”
“I’m just saying it ahead of time. So there won’t be awkwardness later.”
“Awkwardness for whom?”
“Everyone.”
Veronika asked:
“Does Ilya know he’s moving here in a week?”
“I told him I found a good option and that he shouldn’t pay for anything just yet.”
“But does he know that the ‘good option’ is my office?”
— I haven’t had a chance to explain all the details yet.
There was a pause.
Sergey slowly turned to his mother.
— What issue has been settled?
— The housing issue.
— By whom?
— Oh, Sergey, honestly, don’t act like a child. I found him a place.
Veronika didn’t even realize right away that her apartment was now officially referred to as the option found by Tamara Leonidovna.
— Have you already told the relatives? — she asked.
Her mother-in-law waved her hand dismissively.
— I just told my sister that Ilya won’t end up homeless. What’s the big deal?
— Nothing, — replied Veronika. — It’s just interesting how many people already know I’ve cleared out the study. Besides me.
Sergey snorted and immediately pretended to cough.
Tamara Leonidovna shot him a stern look.
— Very funny.
— Mom, wait a second. You have a two-bedroom apartment.
— And?
— You live there alone.
— So what?
— Why can’t Ilya stay with you for a while?
For the first time during this conversation, the mother-in-law didn’t answer immediately.
She adjusted the napkin next to her plate.
— Ilya and I are adults. We each have our own routines.
Veronika almost asked when those routines stopped including Sergey and her apartment.
But she decided to listen for now.
— I’m used to living alone, — continued Tamara Leonidovna. — I get up when I want, watch TV when I want. Ilya isn’t a kid either. It would be uncomfortable for both of us.
— And will it be comfortable for us? — Sergey asked.
— You two have more space.
— We also have three rooms for two people, except one is an office.
— You can put up with it for a few months.
Sergey looked at Veronika.
Veronika gave him a look: right now, she was only putting up with this conversation.
— Fine, — said Sergey. — There’s also grandma’s one-bedroom apartment.
Tamara Leonidovna immediately tensed up.
She had inherited that apartment from her mother. It was a small one-bedroom, but in a good area. She’d been renting it out to a couple for a few years.
— People live there.
— I know.
— Good tenants. They’re quiet, don’t break anything, and always pay on time.
— Thirty-five thousand, — Sergey reminded her.
— So what?
— Nothing. Just clarifying.
— Am I supposed to throw them out or what?
— No, there’s no need to evict the tenants. It’s just that out of all the family’s apartments, the only one you’re immediately willing to give Ilya for free happens to be Veronika’s.
— Just try to find good tenants again. And why should I lose thirty-five thousand every month?
Now, at last, Veronika saw the scheme clearly.
She didn’t even need her degree as a financial analyst to figure it out.
Tamara Leonidovna had her own two-bedroom place, where she could let her son stay temporarily, but she liked living alone.
She also had a one-bedroom that brought in thirty-five thousand rubles a month, and she didn’t want to lose that income.
So an elegant solution presented itself.
Tamara Leonidovna keeps her solitude.
Tamara Leonidovna keeps her thirty-five thousand.
Ilya gets free accommodation.
Sergey gets a brother living next door.
And Veronika is left with her desk in the living room, her documents in the bedroom, and a suggestion to move her belongings out to the balcony.
It really was a sweeping example of family support.
Especially when it comes from the person who came up with this idea for help.
“Well, now everything is clear,” Veronika said.
Her mother-in-law perked up.
“See? That’s what I mean. If you just talk it through calmly…”
“No. I mean the logic is now clear to me.”
“What logic are you talking about?”
“You don’t want to live with Ilya because it’s inconvenient for you. You don’t want to give him the apartment that brings you thirty-five thousand because you don’t want to lose the money. So you decided it should be inconvenient for us instead, while you keep getting the money.”
“Don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not twisting anything. I’m just laying it all out.”
“Is it so hard to help your own family?”
“Helping—no. Having to clear out my home office in my apartment because you order it—yes.”
Tamara Leonidovna flushed with anger.
“I’m not ordering anyone around!”
Veronika glanced toward the hallway.
“Five minutes ago you were picking a spot for the wardrobe.”
Sergey turned away again.
This time, he didn’t bother to cough.
“Alright,” the mother-in-law said. “Maybe I could have put it more gently. But what do you suggest then? Just leave Ilya out on the street?”
“Why would he end up on the street?” Veronika asked. “He has a job. He’s a grown man. He has a mother with two apartments, a brother, friends, colleagues. We haven’t even heard what Ilya himself suggests yet.”
“He’s really not in the right state of mind to decide anything right now.”
“He’s getting divorced, Mom,” Sergey said. “He hasn’t lost his memory or his passport.”
“You should explain to your wife what it means to be a family.”
Sergey stared at his mother for a few seconds.
Tamara Leonidovna obviously expected her son to take the ‘right side,’ and then they could get back to moving the table.
But instead, Sergey asked:
“Mom, if helping family is such a duty, why do we have to start with Veronika’s apartment?”
“Because there’s space here.”
“You have space too.”
“I already explained.”
“Yes. It’s inconvenient for you.”
“I’m sixty-three. I’m used to my own routine.”
“So Veronika has to give up her routine just because she’s thirty-eight?”
“Sergey, don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not twisting anything. I’m trying to figure out the rule. If the rule is: everyone helps as much as they can, then let’s list what you can offer.”
Tamara Leonidovna fell silent.
Veronika decided that was the right time to end the conversation.
“I am not giving up the office,” she said. “And no one gets a room in this apartment without my consent. You seem to have mistaken the apartment owner for support staff. I won’t move my workspace just because you’ve already promised someone my square meters.”
“So Sergey’s brother means nothing to you at all?”
“No. That’s why if Ilya really does need help, we’ll talk with him and figure out how we can help. With him. Not about him.”
Tamara Leonidovna left earlier than she had planned.
Sergey saw his mother out, came back to the kitchen, transferred the meat into a baking dish and popped it in the oven. Then he quietly opened the fridge.
“Is there anything stronger than tea?”
“Kefir.”
“I haven’t messed up that badly yet.”
Veronika burst out laughing.
Then she finally asked:
“Did you really not know anything about her plan?”
“If I had, I would have started clearing out a room yesterday. Only not yours—mom’s second one.”
“That’s very forward-thinking of you.”
Sergey pulled out his phone.
“I’ll call Ilya right now.”
“Maybe wait until the evening? He already has enough to deal with…”
“Nope. Now I’m curious what time the movers are coming tomorrow for your shelving unit.”
Ilya didn’t answer right away.
Sergey put the call on speakerphone.
“Hey. Are you busy?”
“I’m packing boxes.”
“Where are you moving to?”
There was a moment of silence on the line.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly that. What’s the address?”
“Nowhere yet. I made an arrangement with Dima from work—he’s looking for a roommate, so we found a two-bedroom and we’ll split the rent.”
Veronika slowly turned her head toward Sergey.
Sergey covered his eyes with his hand.
“Were you planning to move in with us?”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Veronika was already biting her lip to keep from laughing.
Sergey went on:
“Mom told me today that in a week you’ll be settling into Veronika’s office for at least a few months.”
“Are you serious right now, Seryozha?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
On the other end, Ilya let out a heavy sigh.
“I told her we’d found an apartment with Dima.”
“And what did Mom say?”
“She said not to pay anything yet. She claims she has a better option.”
Now Veronika actually started laughing.
Ilya heard her.
“Is Veronika there with you?”
“She is.”
“Veronika, I haven’t even seen your office since the remodel.”
“It shows.”
“Honestly, I’m not planning to move in with you guys. After the divorce, the last thing I need is to live with my brother and his wife and fight over the bathroom every morning.”
“We only have one bathroom,” Veronika pointed out. “So the clash would’ve been brief.”
“Exactly. I just want to rent a place, live on my own a bit, and figure out my next steps.”
Sergey asked:
“So why did Mom set all this up?”
“I don’t know. Lately she keeps saying I should save money instead of giving it to landlords.”
The conversation ended with Ilya promising to finalize everything with his colleague the next day and to leave his living arrangements out of Mom’s hands for good.
But the real explanation came two days later.
Tamara Leonidovna called Sergey herself.
Turns out, her plan was even more brilliant than they had guessed.
According to Mom’s calculations, if Ilya stayed rent-free with his older brother for at least six months, he could save up a decent amount for a down payment on his own place.
“Six months will fly by,” she reassured Sergey. “And he’ll finally get on his feet.”
“And what about your thirty-five thousand a month from renting out the place?”
“What do my finances have to do with this?”
Sergey later retold that line to Veronika, nearly in admiration.
“I think that’s the real triumph of the whole operation.”
“So what did you say back?”
“That’s exactly why I’m asking.”
“And?”
“She got offended.”
In the end, Ilya moved in with his colleague.
Not after a week, but after just four days.
They rented a standard two-bedroom apartment near work. Ilya paid his share of the rent and deposit, brought over some boxes, clothes, his computer, and an old coffee maker—something his almost ex-wife generously handed over, saying that at least one useless thing should leave the house with him.
A month later, the brothers met up at Sergey and Veronika’s place.
Ilya brought a cake.
“This is for saving me,” he said, handing the box to Veronika.
“Saving you from what?”
— Imagine what life would be like in a family commune: me taking over your office, you working on your laptop in the living room, and Sergey in the evenings with no TV. Give it two weeks, and you both would have kicked me out—chair and all.
— No way, — Sergey said. — The chair is ours.
Ilya glanced over at his brother.
— That’s exactly why I got my own place.
He talked to his mother by himself.
No shouting, no drama.
He explained that he appreciated her willingness to help, but from now on, he’d be making his own decisions about where to live.
For a while, Tamara Leonidovna thought both of her sons were ungrateful.
Eventually, the subject just faded away.
Although, her habit of trying to improve everyone’s life hadn’t gone anywhere.
One day she stopped by and commented:
— If you got rid of that huge couch in the living room, you could finally fit a proper dining table in here.
Sergey didn’t miss a beat.
— Great idea. By the way, how big is your own couch?
— What does my couch have to do with anything?
— First, let’s make a plan for your apartment. Then we’ll move on to Veronika’s place.
Tamara Leonidovna looked first at her son, then at her daughter-in-law, and decided to hold back any more design suggestions.
After that episode, Veronika didn’t move a single thing around in the office.
She just bought another bookshelf.
When Sergey saw it delivered, he asked:
— Do we really have no space left for books?
— There’s still space.
— So why buy another one?
Veronika glanced around the office.
Desk, monitors, printer, chair, and now two bookshelves.
— It’s preventative.
— Preventative against what?
— To keep anyone from ever thinking the room looks suspiciously empty again.
Sergey thought about it, then nodded:
— Smart investment.
And from that moment on, no one ever tried to reassign the office among relatives again.