After the divorce, my ex found out that I had been given a guesthouse by the sea and immediately brought his mother there “for six months” so she could choose a room for herself. But they never made it past the gate
On Saturday morning, I was about to hang new curtains in a room on the second floor when Irina called me from the gate and asked:
“Natasha, are you expecting someone to move in for a long stay today? There’s a woman here with two suitcases asking which room is available until October.”
There were no check-ins scheduled that day. Then Irina added:
“The man with her says he’s Sonya’s father. I haven’t let them in yet.”
I went to the window. Vadim’s car was parked by the gate. His mother, Raisa Mikhailovna, was looking up at the second floor, while two suitcases and a large bag stood beside the trunk.
A week earlier, Vadim had written to say that his mother wanted to “see the house.” I had answered clearly: during the summer, the rooms were rented out to vacationers, and she was not going to live with me for six months. After that, he went silent, and I assumed the argument was over.
Vadim and I had been married for twelve years. When Sonya was born, his mother helped us a lot. She picked up her granddaughter after school, stayed with her in the evenings, and came over whenever we were running late. Sonya loved her, and I had never interfered with their relationship.
The problems began whenever temporary help quietly turned into the right to make decisions about our household.
The first major argument happened because of the car.
One Monday morning, I went outside and discovered that the car was gone. Vadim explained over the phone:
“Mom took it for a couple of days. She has some errands to run.”
“And how am I supposed to drive Sonya this evening?”
“Take a taxi. It’s only for a week.”
That week stretched into almost a month.
Eventually, I went to Raisa Mikhailovna’s place myself. The car keys were lying on a cabinet in the hallway, and I asked her to give them back.
“Of course, take them,” she replied. “You could have told me yesterday, though. I was planning to go grocery shopping tomorrow.”
There was no scandal and no shouting. Someone else’s car had simply become convenient until its owner came to retrieve the keys.
Vadim was more offended than his mother.
“She would have returned it herself. Why did you have to turn it into a conflict?”
A couple of years later, Raisa Mikhailovna started renovating her apartment. Vadim announced over dinner that his mother would stay with us for a week.
Our apartment had three rooms, so at first we had enough space. Sonya moved into the small guest room, and her grandmother took over Sonya’s bedroom.
On the tenth day, Raisa Mikhailovna put a separate laundry basket in the bathroom. By the end of the second week, she had hung several dresses in Sonya’s wardrobe and asked her to clear the bottom shelf for shoes.
“The workers are taking longer than expected,” she kept saying. “It’s not as if I’m doing this on purpose.”
I felt awkward bringing up the issue myself. She cooked dinner, picked Sonya up from school, and once spent an entire evening helping her with a project.
I tolerated it for longer than I should have.
One morning before a test, Sonya couldn’t find her school blouse. Her grandmother had washed some of her clothes the night before and hung them out to dry on the balcony.
My daughter stood in the middle of the room in a T-shirt, furious.
“Why does Grandma touch everything? It’s my wardrobe.”
That same day, I told Vadim that it was time for his mother to go home or rent somewhere to stay until the renovation was finished.
“Rent somewhere? She’s almost done.”
“She’s been here almost a month.”
“Do you really begrudge her one room?”
Raisa Mikhailovna left a few days later. She took her dresses off the hangers herself, packed them into her suitcase, and left Sonya a box of felt-tip pens.
She didn’t shout at me, but afterward she became noticeably colder.
Later, there was an issue involving money.
We had been saving for a new kitchen, and one evening I noticed a large transfer in our banking app. Vadim admitted that he had given his mother money for new windows.
“She’ll pay it back in a couple of months.”
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
“Because you would have said no.”
We didn’t divorce for a long time after that.
Vadim didn’t disappear from the family and he didn’t forget about our child, but when it came to serious matters, he increasingly presented me with decisions that had already been made and then discussed my reaction afterward.
After the divorce, we sold our shared apartment and divided the money.
Vadim rented a place near the school and took Sonya every other weekend. He paid for her extracurricular activities and additional lessons without needing to be reminded.
The guesthouse came into my life almost a year later.
It belonged to my mother.
It was a small two-story house in a seaside resort village with five guest rooms, separate living quarters for the owner, a courtyard with grapevines, and a summer kitchen. The sea was about a fifteen-minute walk away.
For many years, my mother had hosted vacationers herself. Eventually she grew tired of the constant arrivals and departures and moved to live with my sister in Krasnodar.
She suggested transferring the house into my name.
“Sell it if you want, run it as a business if you want. Just remember, in summer this isn’t a dacha. Every vacant room brings in money.”
The gift deed was finalized after my divorce.
Vadim had nothing to do with the house.
I decided to manage the first season myself.
I took time off work, came there with Sonya in April, and started preparing the rooms.
Irina, who had helped my mother for many years, lived two streets away and agreed to welcome guests whenever I needed to leave.
We checked the air conditioners, ordered two new mattresses, and replaced some of the bed linens.
Sonya took a small room in the private part of the house and taped a paper sign with her name on the door.
Vadim found out about the house from her.
At first, his questions seemed innocent: how many rooms there were, how much work it involved, when the season started.
I answered calmly.
A few days later, he called and, after discussing school, said:
“Mom wants to spend more time by the sea this year.”
“She should book in advance. Everything gets taken quickly in summer.”
“Why should she book anything when you have an entire house?”
I assumed he meant a week and asked for the dates.
“She’ll come in April. Until the end of September, roughly. Maybe part of October too.”
“For six months?”
“Well, yes. The sea is good for her. She’ll get to see Sonya. And she can help you.”
The room with a private bathroom that he immediately began describing was one of the most comfortable rooms and one of the easiest to rent during the summer.
“Vadim, I rent those rooms out.”
“All five of them? And you can’t spare one for my mother?”
We argued.
I also said something unnecessary: that Raisa Mikhailovna had managed to live for more than sixty years without spending half a year at the sea and nothing terrible had happened to her.
I regretted phrasing it that way afterward, but I didn’t call back.
The next morning, I wrote directly to his mother:
“If you want to come here for a vacation, tell me the dates. I’ll see what’s available. But I can’t accommodate you for six months for free.”
She replied:
“I never asked you for anything. Vadim suggested it.”
I thought the matter was settled.
By the middle of April, the first bookings started coming in.
The most convenient room on the second floor was especially popular because its balcony faced the courtyard and it was quieter there.
On Wednesday, Vadim asked me in a message which rooms were currently vacant.
“Three. But guests will be arriving soon.”
“Mom just wants to look and see which one is more comfortable. Nobody is forcing you to do anything.”
I replied:
“There’s no need to come and choose a room. We’ve already discussed this.”
On Friday evening, Sonya was talking to her father on speakerphone while folding her sports uniform.
Before they said goodbye, Vadim said:
“Tomorrow Grandma and I will stop by and see how you’ve settled in.”
“Come over!” my daughter said happily.
After the call, I asked Sonya to check with me first before inviting guests in the future.
“But it’s Dad and Grandma.”
“That’s exactly why we can simply arrange it beforehand.”
My daughter shrugged.
I didn’t explain the details of our disagreement to her.
Before going to bed, Vadim messaged me:
“We’ll be nearby tomorrow. We’ll stop in for ten minutes.”
My reply was short:
“Don’t come. I didn’t invite you.”
And the next morning, Irina saw the suitcases at the gate.
When I came outside, Vadim was waiting on the other side of the gate, while Raisa Mikhailovna was scrolling through photos of the rooms on her phone.
“This one is better,” she was saying to her son. “The one on the second floor with the balcony. The stairs are a little steep, though.”
I walked up to the gate.
“Good morning. What are the suitcases for?”
Raisa Mikhailovna looked at her son.
“So we don’t have to drive them back and forth. If the room suits me, I’ll stay.”
“Mom, we were only going to look first,” Vadim said irritably.
“And then drive another three hundred kilometers again? I brought everything I need.”
Vadim opened the trunk, took out a bag of shoes, and placed it beside the suitcases.
“I wrote yesterday that you shouldn’t come.”
“We came to talk,” he replied. “The house is almost empty right now.”
Raisa Mikhailovna came closer.
“Natasha, I don’t need anything special. That room with the balcony is nice. If you need it for guests in the summer, I’ll move to another one.”
“How long are you planning to live here?”
“Until the end of September for sure.”
“And are you planning to pay for the room?”
Vadim immediately interrupted:
“Are you seriously talking about money right now? With my mother?”
“With a person who wants to occupy a guest room for the entire season.”
Raisa Mikhailovna put her phone into her handbag.
“I could help you. Look after Sonya, fold the laundry, water the flowers. I’m not a stranger.”
“If I need an assistant, I’ll arrange that separately. I rent out the rooms.”
“Every single one?”
“During the season, almost all of them.”
She thought for a moment and asked:
“What about the small one near the stairs?”
“It’s already booked for June.”
“So I’ll stay there until then, and then move.”
Irina stood a little distance away and remained silent.
To her, these weren’t empty bedrooms. They were guest rooms between bookings.
“There won’t be any moving. You’re not checking in today.”
Vadim grabbed one of the bars of the gate.
“Sonya is going to be here all summer. Mom has the right to see her granddaughter.”
“Nobody is stopping her from seeing Sonya.”
“Then open the gate.”
“So you can bring the luggage inside?”
He said nothing.
Raisa Mikhailovna abruptly turned toward the car.
“Vadim, put everything back.”
“Mom, wait. We’ll talk properly now.”
“About what? The owner said there’s no room.”
He lifted the large suitcase and put it back into the trunk, then returned for the second one.
Raisa Mikhailovna picked up her bag and got into the car.
Only then did I open the gate.
“If you want to come for a week or two, let me know in advance. If I have dates available, we’ll arrange something.”
Her voice came from inside the car.
“Thank you. I’ll sort it out myself.”
Vadim remained standing by the gate.
“You could at least have let us into the courtyard.”
“I could have. Then you would have carried the luggage inside, your mother would have been tired after the drive, and you would have suggested letting her stay until tomorrow.”
“You’ve already decided everything I would do before I even did it.”
“Did I imagine the suitcases too?”
He looked at the trunk, got behind the wheel, and drove away.
Irina waited until the car disappeared around the bend before asking:
“Should we prepare the room with the balcony for Monday?”
“Yes. A family with a child is coming.”
We went upstairs.
The new curtains were still lying in their packaging on the bed. Irina attached the hooks while I helped hang the fabric on the curtain rod.
On Monday, a family from Voronezh arrived and rented that room for twelve days.
After them, there were bookings with almost no long gaps until the end of August.
For several weeks, Vadim spoke to me coldly.
At the same time, he called Sonya every day, picked her up for weekends on schedule, and in May brought her a new bicycle that they had chosen together.
He didn’t ask about the guesthouse anymore.
Raisa Mikhailovna didn’t disappear either.
She spoke with her granddaughter on the phone, congratulated her on finishing the school year, and once sent a bag of homemade pastries through Vadim.
She didn’t call me.
In July, Sonya came running into the kitchen with her phone.
“Grandma is going to the sea after all. Look where she’s going to stay.”
On the screen was a photo of a small boarding house in a neighboring village.
Raisa Mikhailovna had rented a room there for ten days.
On the third day of her vacation, she called me herself.
“Can I take Sonya tomorrow? We want to go to the promenade and the park.”
We agreed on ten in the morning.
She arrived without suitcases, wearing a light-colored hat and carrying a small shoulder bag.
While Sonya was putting on her shoes, Raisa Mikhailovna stood at the gate and looked at the grapevines hanging over the fence.
“They’ve grown a lot.”
“We tied them up in spring.”
“It turned out nicely.”
We didn’t talk about the rooms.
Sonya ran into the courtyard, opened the gate with her own key, and immediately started telling her grandmother where they sold ice cream.
Raisa Mikhailovna took her by the arm, and the two of them headed toward the sea.
After lunch, Irina called me upstairs.
The guests staying in the room with the balcony had checked out early because they had decided to spend a couple of days in the mountains.
That evening, we stripped the bed, aired out the room, and prep
ared it for the next guests.
The following day, a couple from Rostov was due to arrive.
My phone vibrated on the windowsill.
Vadim had sent me a photo of Sonya with her grandmother on the promenade and written:
“Mom says the sea is nice where you are.”
I replied:
“The sea is the same for everyone.”
Irina brought clean linens.
I made the bed, she straightened the curtains, and then we closed the window and left the room.
Downstairs, the next guests were already calling to ask how to find the turnoff leading to the house.