Olga burst into the apartment like a gust of wind. The bank paperwork was on the bedroom dresser—she’d left it there in the morning rush. Her boss had already called three times, the client was waiting, and without those documents the deal was basically dead. She kicked off her heels in the entryway and headed deeper inside, pulling out her phone as she walked to text her manager that she’d be at the office in twenty minutes.
The bedroom door was half-open. Olga pushed it wider—and froze on the threshold.
At her vanity, sprawled in the chair like she belonged there, sat Lena—Dima’s younger sister. Nineteen, a first-year university student, with long ash-blonde hair and that permanent, haughty expression. In front of her was an open jar of cream—the exact one Olga had had brought in through friends last spring and paid a small fortune for. Lena was leisurely scooping it up with her fingers and smoothing it over her face, studying herself in the mirror with obvious satisfaction.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Olga’s voice came out quieter than she meant. Outrage tightened her throat.
Lena didn’t even flinch. She turned her head slowly and looked Olga over with mild irritation, as if Olga had interrupted something important.
“Oh, it’s you,” she drawled. “I thought you were at work.”
“I asked what you’re doing with my cream.”
“Using it,” Lena said, turning back to the mirror. “Great stuff, by the way. Your skin feels like velvet right away.”
Something clicked into place for Olga. All the little disappearances, all the times she’d found her earrings in the wrong box, her sweater faintly smelling like someone else’s perfume, her lipstick not where she’d left it—suddenly it all lined up into one ugly, perfectly clear picture.
“Put it down. Now.” Olga stepped into the room.
“Oh, come on,” Lena said, twisting the lid on—but she still didn’t put the jar away. “Don’t be so stingy. You’ve got enough makeup here to supply a whole store. You seriously can’t share?”
“Share?” Olga felt her voice begin to shake. “You think taking my things without asking is ‘sharing’?”
“Well, excuse me, Your Majesty,” Lena rolled her eyes. “Next time I’ll request royal permission to use your precious cream.”
“Get out!” The shout tore out of Olga before she could stop it. “And hand over your keys. Right now!”
“What’s going on?” Dima appeared in the doorway wearing sweatpants and a wrinkled T-shirt. He worked from home as a programmer and had clearly been in headphones when he heard the yelling. “Ol, why are you screaming?”
“I’m screaming?” Olga spun toward him. “Your sister is sitting here using my stuff like it’s hers—and I’m the problem?”
“Calm down,” Dima stepped in, raising his hands like a referee. “Lena, what happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Lena stood up and sighed dramatically. “Your wife is losing her mind over some random cream.”
“Some random—?” Olga snatched up the jar. “This is La Mer. It costs fifteen thousand rubles. And it’s not ‘some cream,’ it’s my cream, bought with my money!”
“Ol, come on, it’s not that—” Dima started, but she cut him off.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare tell me ‘it’s nothing.’ Do you have any idea what’s been going on in this house for the last three months? My things keep disappearing—earrings, blouses, perfume, jewelry. I’ve been feeling insane because I can’t find anything!”
“What does that have to do with Lena?” Dima frowned.
“Everything, because she’s the one taking them!” Olga swung back to the girl. “Isn’t that right? You’ve been helping yourself to my stuff!”
“Why would you think that?” Lena crossed her arms, but her eyes flickered—less confident now. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Olga yanked open the closet door. “A month ago I couldn’t find my emerald dress—the one Dima gave me for our anniversary. I tore the whole place apart. Two weeks later it’s hanging there like nothing happened… and it reeks of your perfume, Lena.”
“Maybe you just didn’t notice it,” Lena mumbled.
“And my gold chain,” Olga pressed on. “I panicked looking for it before an important meeting. Then it showed up in my jewelry box—except the clasp was damaged.”
“Lena,” Dima turned to his sister. “Did you really take Olga’s things?”
“Dima, that’s insane,” she began, but her voice wobbled.
“Answer.” His tone sharpened.
Lena dropped her gaze. For a few seconds the room went dead quiet, broken only by a car passing outside.
“Well… maybe once or twice,” she finally admitted. “But I was going to put everything back! It’s not stealing if I return it.”
“That is exactly what stealing is!” Olga snapped. “Taking someone else’s things without permission is theft!”
“Ol, don’t make it sound so dramatic,” Dima tried to step between them. “She’s a student—she can’t afford expensive clothes and jewelry. She just wanted to look good.”
“Look good at my expense?” Olga stared at him as if he’d spoken a different language. “Are you seriously defending this?”
“It’s not stealing,” Dima insisted. “She’s family.”
“Family?” Olga’s eyes stung with tears—not from sadness, from rage. “Family doesn’t dig through someone else’s drawers. Family asks!”
“I was going to ask,” Lena whispered. “I just didn’t get the chance.”
“You didn’t get the chance for three months?” Olga gave a hollow laugh. “You know what, Lena? If you’d come to me and asked, I might’ve said yes. I might’ve even given you something. I have pieces I don’t wear anymore. But after the way you’ve acted—taking things, lying, looking me in the eye and pretending nothing’s happening—no. Never.”
“I’m not lying!” Lena flared up.
“Really? What were you doing five minutes ago when I asked if you’d taken my things?”
Lena pressed her lips together, unable to answer.
“Exactly.” Olga pulled open the top drawer of the dresser. “Let’s check, shall we? Is this my brooch or not?” She lifted a butterfly-shaped pin with pale blue stones.
“Yours,” Lena said through her teeth.
“And this lipstick? I searched for it for two weeks.”
“I wanted to see the shade,” Lena muttered. “I thought I’d buy the same one.”
“In my makeup bag? You ‘tested’ it in my makeup bag?” Olga kept opening drawers. “And what’s this? My scarf—cashmere—the one my mom gave me for my birthday. I thought I’d lost it!”
“Lena,” Dima’s voice turned hard. “Did you really take all of this?”
“I… I didn’t think it was such a big deal,” Lena’s lips trembled. “She has so much. I thought she wouldn’t even notice.”
“Wouldn’t notice?” Olga felt her stomach twist. “I noticed every single day! I thought I was going crazy! I blamed the cleaning service—I even wondered if Dima was taking things to give to a mistress! I couldn’t sleep, trying to figure out where my stuff was going!”
“Ol, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Lena stepped forward, but Olga backed away.
“Now you know. Gather every single thing you took—right now. Then leave. And put the keys on the entryway table.”
“Olga, don’t do this,” Dima reached for her hand, but she jerked away. “Let’s talk calmly.”
“Calmly?” She looked at him so sharply he actually stepped back. “Do you understand what happened? Your sister has been stealing from me in my own home for months. And you want me to be calm?”
“She wasn’t stealing, she was just—”
“Just taking without permission. That’s theft.”
“She’s a student, it’s hard for her,” Dima repeated stubbornly. “Your mom doesn’t have money to buy her expensive things. She wants to look good like her classmates.”
“And that makes stealing okay?” Olga couldn’t believe it. “Dima, listen to yourself.”
“I’m saying you should try to understand her situation!”
“Understand?” Olga laughed again, but it came out sharp and shaky. “Then understand mine! Imagine coming home and not being able to find your things. Digging through drawers, turning closets inside out, thinking your memory is failing—or that there’s a thief in the house. And then the item reappears, and you can’t explain how, because you know it wasn’t there before. It messes with your head!”
“I get it, but—”
“No, you don’t!” Olga cut him off. “Do you know what hurts the most? Not that Lena took my things—she could’ve asked. I’m not greedy. I would’ve lent her a dress or some jewelry. Hell, I would’ve gone shopping with her, helped her find something nice! But instead she chose to steal, lie, and act like nothing was happening.”
Lena stood with her head bowed, and Olga suddenly saw tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” Lena whispered. “I really didn’t mean to… I just… At university everyone has beautiful things, everyone dresses so well, and I only have old jeans and cheap T-shirts. I saw your closet and thought you wouldn’t even notice if I borrowed something for one evening.”
“But you didn’t take things for one evening,” Olga said quietly. “You took them again and again. And you didn’t put them back. My chain is broken. The dress collar has foundation stains. And the cream… you used almost half the jar.”
“I’ll pay you back,” Lena sobbed. “I’ll find a job and pay for everything.”
“It’s not about the money!” Olga felt the anger draining into sheer exhaustion. “It’s about trust, Lena. Dima and I let you into our home. When your mom asked us to look out for you, we agreed. We told her not to pay for food—I started cooking extra lunches for you. Dima gave you keys so you could come in when we weren’t home. We trusted you. And you—”
Her voice broke. Olga turned to the window so they wouldn’t see her face.
“Do you remember how it started?” she continued more softly. “September. Lena had just gotten into university. Your mom called and asked if we could keep an eye on her—dorm is far, and our apartment is ten minutes from campus. She offered money for groceries, but we refused. I remember how hard it is for her to raise two kids.”
Dima said nothing, staring at the floor.
“I tried,” Olga went on. “I cooked, left food in the fridge, bought groceries so there’d always be something. And Lena… she showed up once a week, maybe twice. Ate a few bites and left. I thought maybe she didn’t like my cooking, or she had friends and ate out. Fine—at least she had the keys if anything happened.”
“Ol…” Dima finally lifted his head.
“And then,” Olga cut in, “I started noticing little things. My hair tie missing from the bathroom. Lipstick not where I left it. Earrings in the wrong box. I blamed my own forgetfulness. I thought I moved things and forgot. But it kept happening.”
She turned to Lena.
“Tell me the truth,” Olga said. “Did you ever come here to actually eat lunch? Or were you mostly coming when you knew we weren’t home—just to go through my things?”
Lena chewed her lip, silent.
“Answer me!” Olga’s voice rose again.
“I… sometimes I ate,” Lena whispered. “But mostly… mostly I came when I knew you weren’t here. At university the girls are always showing off outfits, makeup, jewelry. And I… I felt like a nobody. And when I saw your closet—so big, so beautiful—I thought you wouldn’t even notice.”
“But I did notice,” Olga said. “Every time. And if you’d come to me honestly—if you’d said, ‘Olya, I have something important, can I borrow a dress?’—I would’ve said yes. Gladly. We could’ve picked jewelry together, done your makeup. I could’ve been your friend, an older sister. But you chose lying and stealing.”
“I was embarrassed to ask,” Lena admitted quietly.
“Embarrassed to ask, but not embarrassed to steal?” Olga shook her head. “Do you hear how absurd that is?”
“Ol, maybe don’t be so harsh,” Dima tried again. “She gets it now. She’ll return everything and won’t do it again.”
“Dima, do you honestly think I can leave for work and feel okay knowing your sister has keys to our apartment?” Olga looked straight at him. “That I won’t check every day to make sure everything is still here?”
“Then we’ll change the lock,” he spread his hands. “Problem solved.”
“The lock isn’t the problem,” Olga’s throat tightened. “The problem is I can’t trust your sister. She lied to my face for months. And you’re standing up for her instead of understanding what this did to me.”
“I understand—” Dima began, but Olga waved him off.
“No. You don’t. I felt insane. When you can’t find your things, you start doubting your memory. I was about to go to a doctor—I thought maybe something was wrong with my head. And it turns out your little sister decided to shop in my closet.”
“I’m sorry,” Lena sobbed again. “I really didn’t want—”
“Didn’t want what?” Olga marched to the wardrobe and started pulling items out. “Didn’t want me to find out? Or didn’t want to hurt me?” She laid things on the bed. “You took this too? And this? Oh—and my favorite heels! I thought I lost them on a business trip!”
With every item, her fury flared again. Soon there was a whole pile—clothes, jewelry, cosmetics—sprawled across the bed.
“Dima, do you see this?” she turned to her husband. “Do you see how much she took? And you still think this is just a childish prank?”
Dima stared at the bed, his face gone pale. Even he hadn’t expected it to be this much.
“Lena,” his voice turned icy. “Is this all really from you?”
Lena nodded, hiding her face in her hands.
“God…” Dima dragged a hand down his face. “I… I didn’t realize it was this serious.”
“That’s right,” Olga said. “You didn’t realize it because you sit at home in headphones and tune everything out. And I’ve been living in this nightmare.”
“Ol, I’m sorry,” Dima stepped closer. “I should’ve listened. When you said things were disappearing, I brushed it off. I thought you were just forgetting where you put stuff.”
“Exactly,” Olga stepped away from his attempt to hug her. “You decided I was some forgetful idiot. And meanwhile your sister was walking out of our home with my things.”
“I—” Lena flared again. “I only borrowed them!”
“Borrowed?” Olga raised an eyebrow. “You took that scarf three months ago. Is that still ‘borrowing’?”
Lena fell silent.
“Do you know what hurts most?” Olga sank onto the edge of the bed, suddenly drained. “I genuinely wanted to help you. When your mom asked us to look out for you, I was happy. I don’t have sisters—I thought we could become close. I pictured us cooking together, talking, shopping. I wanted to be someone safe for you.”
“I wanted that too,” Lena whispered.
“Then why?” Olga asked, looking at her. “Why didn’t you just ask? Why choose deception?”
“Because…” Lena swallowed. “Because you seem so perfect. A good job, a nice apartment, a husband who loves you. And I’m just a dumb student from a poor family. I was ashamed to admit I can’t even afford decent cosmetics.”
“Lena,” Olga sighed, “I was a student too. I couldn’t afford expensive things either. I waited tables in the evenings to buy normal clothes. Everything I have—I earned. And I’ve never thought I was better than anyone because of it.”
“But when I looked at you,” Lena wiped her cheeks, “it felt like you were always successful and beautiful. Like it all came easy.”
“Nothing came easy,” Olga said tiredly. “And if you’d talked to me, I would’ve told you that. I would’ve helped you find a job, shown you how to budget, where to buy nice things without spending a fortune. But you chose a different road.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. Dima stood by the window, Lena hovered near the door, and Olga sat surrounded by a mound of things that should’ve stayed in her closet.
“So what now?” Dima finally asked.
Olga drew a deep breath.
“Now Lena returns everything she took—every last hair clip. Then she gives back the keys. And she doesn’t come here again.”
“Ol, but she’s my sister,” Dima started.
“And that’s the only reason I’m not calling the police,” Olga cut him off. “Because this is a crime, Dima. Theft is theft—even when the thief is your student sister.”
He went even paler.
“You won’t…”
“I won’t. But only on one condition—she never steps over our threshold again. If you want to see her, meet her anywhere you like. A café. Your mother’s place. Outside. But not here.”
“That’s too cruel,” Dima whispered.
“Cruel?” Olga stood up. “Cruel is stealing from someone for months after they opened their door to you. Cruel is lying to their face and pretending nothing’s happening. I’m protecting my space and my sanity—because I already feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Fine,” Lena said quietly. “I understand.”
Olga didn’t answer. She only nodded toward the door.
Lena slowly left the bedroom. Dima followed. Olga heard their hushed voices in the entryway, the clink of keys hitting the table, the front door opening and shutting.
Then Dima came back. He paused in the bedroom doorway, looking at his wife.
“Ol…” he began.
“Don’t,” she lifted a hand. “Just… not right now.”
“I’m sorry,” he moved closer. “I really am. I should’ve supported you immediately. I should’ve believed you when you said things were disappearing.”
“Yes. You should have,” Olga met his eyes. “But instead you decided I was going crazy—or just forgetful.”
“Forgive me.”
Olga exhaled. Work was waiting, and she still had to figure out what to tell her boss about why she’d been delayed.