On Friday evening, Elena caught her husband doing something unusual. Maxim was standing in the middle of the kitchen, counting the chairs.
First, he counted the regular ones, then the folding chairs that were kept on the balcony. After that, he peeked behind the cabinet and asked where the folding table had gone.
Elena put down the towel she had been using to dry the dishes.
“Maxim, are we doing an inventory? Or are you planning to open a café?”
“No, not at all. I just thought, what if guests show up?”
“What guests?”
“Well, family. Maybe my mom.”
Elena glanced at the six chairs, then at her husband.
“Your mom usually does just fine with one. Even when she comes to criticize my borscht.”
Maxim grinned, but for some reason he instantly lost interest in the furniture.
In five years of marriage, Elena had learned her husband’s habits well. He could go a week without noticing that the hallway bulb had burnt out. He could search for his own jacket while standing right in front of the open closet. But whenever he suddenly showed some initiative around the house, it almost always turned out there was some sort of trouble behind it.
Last time, Maxim cleaned out the fridge all by himself after accidentally defrosting all the food inside.
And now it was the chairs.
For now, Elena decided not to press him. Maybe her mother-in-law really was planning to visit. Although, why Lyudmila Viktorovna would need a folding table was a mystery.
She got her answer the very next day. Turned out, the chairs were the least worrying part of her husband’s preparations.
The three-room apartment the couple lived in belonged to Elena.
Nine years ago, her parents sold her late grandmother’s apartment, added their own savings, and bought a place for their daughter. The ownership was registered to her right away.
Back then, Elena had just turned twenty-nine. She worked as a purchasing specialist, rented a one-bedroom apartment, and hadn’t even dreamed of owning a three-room place.
She met Maxim much later. They got married five years ago, and her husband moved in with her from his rented apartment.
Life together was fine. They both worked, each month setting aside agreed amounts for groceries, utilities, and other shared expenses. The rest of their money, each managed however they wanted.
Maxim worked servicing refrigeration equipment for stores. His job had him traveling around, sometimes to neighboring towns.
Over the years, the couple bought furniture and appliances together, renovated the kitchen. Maxim paid for part of the renovations. Elena never kept track of who bought how many bags of plaster or who paid for delivery.
But the apartment remained her property.
Her husband knew this perfectly well.
And, as it turned out, this was a fact he’d gone to great lengths to hide from his relatives.
It all started off quite innocently.
When Maxim introduced Elena to his mother, Lyudmila Viktorovna asked where the newlyweds were planning to live after the wedding.
“We’ve got a three-room place, there’s plenty of space,” her son replied.
Elena didn’t even notice the phrasing at the time. It was true—after the wedding, the apartment would become their shared home.
But then Maxim started to get carried away.
During family gatherings, he would share stories about how he and his wife fixed up their apartment, talked about how expensive the renovation turned out to be, and mentioned how hard it is these days to get a decent place to live.
One day, his mother proudly pointed out what a great job her son had done, managing to buy such a big apartment.
Maxim didn’t say anything.
Then, the relatives started asking him how much these three-room apartments cost nowadays, and he was happy to share current market prices.
Elena usually wasn’t present for these conversations. She didn’t meet her husband’s family often, and she always thought real estate talk at a holiday table was a strange topic anyway.
So, she had no idea about her sudden reputation as the woman who landed a wealthy apartment owner.
On Saturday, at 7:30 in the morning, Maxim’s phone rang.
It was his boss calling.
One of the employees had fallen ill, and in a nearby town, the refrigerator system in a grocery store urgently needed to be fixed. The order couldn’t be postponed.
Maxim had a quick breakfast, packed his tools, and was putting on his shoes in the hallway when Elena asked:
“So what about your mom? Is she coming over today?”
“She might drop by after lunch.”
“Did you tell her we have plans tonight?”
“Oh come on, Lena. She’ll just sit for a bit and have some tea.”
He kissed his wife on the cheek and went out.
Elena was planning to have a peaceful day off. In the morning, she’d sort through some work papers, go grocery shopping in the afternoon, and watch a movie in the evening.
She wasn’t expecting any guests.
Meanwhile, Lyudmila Viktorovna was already orchestrating a real family operation.
Her older sister Galina was turning sixty.
Galina lived in another city and had long planned to visit the family. For her milestone birthday, she decided to come with her husband Boris and their adult daughter Irina.
At first, they planned to rent a place for two nights, from Saturday to Monday, and meet up with local relatives at a café in the evening.
But Lyudmila Viktorovna thought that was too extravagant.
Why spend money on a hotel when Maxim has a huge apartment?
Besides, in her view, her son had bought the place himself and could surely make use of the spare rooms.
Two weeks before the birthday, she called Maxim.
She suggested hosting the three out-of-towners at his place and having a family dinner for twelve in the evening.
Maxim agreed.
But he decided to break the news to his wife gradually. First about his mom, then about his aunt, and later he’d mention the others.
There was just one catch: Elena couldn’t stand surprises—especially when they involved her kitchen.
Still, Maxim hoped that once everyone had already arrived, she wouldn’t start an argument.
There was one more issue with the keys.
A week earlier, Elena had gone to visit a friend outside the city for the weekend. On Sunday, Maxim lost the keyring near the car wash.
When he realized it was gone, he searched the whole car, checked the trunk, and even looked under the vehicle.
But he couldn’t find the keys.
Elena insisted that they change the entryway lock cylinder on Monday.
Only the couple got copies of the new keys.
Lyudmila Viktorovna still had an old key. They’d given it to her several years ago so she could feed the cat while the couple was on vacation.
Maxim meant to give his mom the new key, but never got around to it.
Still, Lyudmila Viktorovna wasn’t too worried. She’s always believed that a mother should have access to her son’s things, especially if it’s just for a good cause.
And in her mind, a family anniversary definitely counts as a good reason.
Around noon, Elena heard some odd noises by the front door.
Someone made a few attempts to turn a key in the lock.
Then came the sound of the doorbell.
Elena looked through the peephole and was briefly confused—why did it look like a mass migration was happening in her entryway?
There stood Lyudmila Viktorovna, and next to her were Galina, her husband Boris, and their daughter Irina.
A bit farther off, Maxim’s two cousins, Sergey and Gleb, shuffled their feet. They lived in the same city and had come to help with the family’s luggage.
On the floor were a suitcase, a travel bag, several shopping bags, a box with a cake, and a big pot wrapped in a towel.
Elena opened the door.
“Hello. Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine,” her mother-in-law replied, surprised. “We just arrived. Why do you look so startled?”
“I didn’t know all of you were coming.”
“Maxim was supposed to tell you. Galya, meet Lena.”
Galina gave a warm smile.
“Finally we meet! Lyuda always talks about how big your apartment is.”
Elena glanced at the suitcase.
“Are you planning to stay long?”
“Until Monday,” Irina answered. “We’ve already bought return tickets.”
“I see. And where are you planning to spend the night?”
There was a short pause in the hallway.
Lyudmila Viktorovna even stopped fussing with the towel on the pot.
“What do you mean, where? Here, of course.”
“Here?”
“Lena, don’t start. Maxim gave his approval.”
Her mother-in-law tried to step inside the apartment, but Elena remained at the doorway.
“Hold on. What exactly did Maxim approve?”
“Oh come on, everything!” Lyudmila Viktorovna threw up her hands. “Galya and Boris will take your bedroom, Ira will be in the small room where you keep your computer. You and Maxim can sleep on the couch in the living room for now. Tonight we’ll have guests over, just a cozy family gathering.”
Elena slowly turned to look at Irina.
Irina looked embarrassed.
“We thought you knew. Honestly.”
“This is the first I’m hearing about any of this.”
“See?” the mother-in-law cut in. “Maxim forgot to mention it again. Men! But don’t worry, we’ve organized everything. The aspic is ready, we’ll make some salads. Just let me use the kitchen, okay?”
That last line sounded like Elena just worked a shift in a cafeteria and was running late.
“How many people are coming tonight?” she asked.
“Twelve, including you. Four more of ours will be joining.”
Elena thought back to yesterday’s furniture inventory.
Six regular chairs, two folding ones, a folding table.
Now it all made sense.
Except for one thing: no one seemed to think it was necessary to ask the apartment owner for permission.
Elena suggested Lyudmila Viktorovna step into the hallway for a chat. The rest stayed on the landing with the luggage.
“I’m going to call Maxim now.”
“Why bother him? He’s at work.”
“Because I want to know why I’m only finding out about a houseful of guests five minutes before they move in.”
“What do you mean ‘strangers’? That’s my husband’s aunt!”
“She might be family to you. To me, she’s just someone I’ve only seen once in a family photo. I have no issues with her personally.”
Maxim finally picked up after the third call.
“Lena, I’m busy. What’s going on?”
“There are six people with a suitcase and a jellied meat by our door, all with plans for my bedroom. Care to explain?”
Her husband was silent for several seconds.
“Oh, Mom’s already there?”
“Maxim.”
“I did tell you there might be guests.”
“You said your mom would stop by for tea. Not that we’d be hosting a full family banquet with sleepovers until Monday.”
“Only three are staying overnight. The rest are locals.”
“Do you hear yourself right now?”
“Lena, I can’t come home right now. Let’s try not to make a scene, okay? They’re already here.”
Elena sat down on the ottoman.
“Let’s be direct. Did you give your mom permission to house relatives here?”
“Yeah. She asked me two weeks ago.”
“And you couldn’t tell me for two weeks?”
“I was going to.”
“When? After Galina lays down in our bed?”
Maxim let out a loud sigh.
“I thought you wouldn’t say no if they were already here.”
Now Elena was truly angry.
Not because of the guests. Not even because the jellied meat was already leaving a wet mark on the floor.
She was angry because her husband clearly understood what he was doing.
He knew his wife might object. That’s why he set it all up so she’d feel uncomfortable saying no.
“So you deliberately put me on the spot?”
“Not on purpose. I just…”
“Maxim, don’t start. You just explained your logic yourself.”
She ended the conversation.
Lyudmila Viktorovna looked at her daughter-in-law with open disapproval.
“What a character. The relatives arrive and she starts negotiations. Maxim said it was okay, what else does she need?”
“My agreement.”
“For what?”
“To use my apartment.”
Her mother-in-law raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Yours?”
“Mine.”
“Lena, I get it, you’re the wife, the hostess. But the apartment is Maxim’s. He has the right to invite his own family.”
Elena looked at her more intently.
“Excuse me. Whose apartment?”
“Maxim’s. Well, it’s yours together now that you’re married, of course.”
“What makes you think Maxim bought it?”
Lyudmila Viktorovna was actually stunned by the question.
“He told me himself!”
“What exactly did he tell you?”
“How you two got a three-room place. How you renovated it. How much money it cost. He did it all himself, thank God. Never depended on anyone else!”
Elena realized today’s discussion would be much more interesting than a regular family fight.
Lyudmila Viktorovna stepped out into the hallway and took out her phone.
“I’m calling my son. Let him explain this to you himself.”
She dialed, put it on speakerphone, and as soon as Maxim answered, she spoke so loudly that Sergey by the elevator looked over in surprise:
“Maxim, your audacious wife won’t let us into your apartment! We’re here with Aunt Galya, and she’s pretending to be the boss!”
Elena stood in the open doorway.
“Lyudmila Viktorovna, please don’t shout. The neighbors will think someone’s trying to seize the apartment.”
“She IS!” the mother-in-law protested. “From her own husband!”
Maxim’s voice came through the phone:
“Mom, please stop. Let me talk to Lena.”
“First, tell me: is the apartment yours or not?”
There was no answer.
“Maxim, I’m asking you!”
“Mom, we live there together.”
“I know that. But who is the owner?”
“Lena.”
Lyudmila Viktorovna looked at the phone as if it had suddenly started speaking a foreign language.
“Which Lena?”
“My wife, Mom.”
“What do you mean, owner?”
Elena decided there was no point continuing this conversation without a certain little document.
She walked to the cabinet where they kept household papers and pulled out a printed statement from the real estate registry that she’d recently ordered for apartment insurance.
She came back and handed it to her mother-in-law.
“Here. Please have a look.”
Lyudmila Viktorovna put on her glasses.
She read Elena’s last name.
Then she looked at the date when Elena became the official owner—several years before the wedding.
She read it again.
“And where’s Maxim?”
“At work,” Elena replied. “If you mean his name on the paperwork, it’s not here.”
Sergey turned away, hiding a smile.
Boris cleared his throat.
Galina carefully took the papers from her sister, looked them over, and handed them back to Elena.
“Lyuda, it all looks pretty clear here.”
“Wait,” the mother-in-law raised her hand. “Maxim! But what about you buying the apartment?”
A very quiet voice came through the phone:
“Mom, I never said I bought it.”
“You did! You said you two got a three-room apartment!”
“Well, we do live there…”
“And when I congratulated you on the purchase? You even told me that real estate has become so expensive!”
“Well, it really is expensive.”
“Maxim!” said both his mother and his wife at the same time.
Sergey couldn’t hide his smile anymore.
“Aunt Lyud, technically he didn’t lie. Real estate really is expensive.”
“Sergey, please, be quiet!”
Elena took the statement back.
“My parents bought the apartment for me nine years ago, before I met Maxim. We live here together, but officially I’m the only owner.”
Her mother-in-law stared thoughtfully at the door, then looked back at the papers in Elena’s hands.
“What about the renovation?”
“We paid for the kitchen renovation together.”
“And the rooms?”
“The rooms came with the apartment. Maxim didn’t buy them separately.”
Boris couldn’t hold back and let out a short laugh.
Galina nudged him with her elbow.
But for Lyudmila Viktorovna it was no laughing matter anymore.
For years, she had told her relatives what an independent son she had. How he got a big place so early. How he managed to provide for his family.
And Maxim had never corrected her.
Now all of this was out in the open, in front of her sister, brother-in-law, and nieces.
It was especially hard to swallow that Elena—the same daughter-in-law she just called pushy—was actually the only person not involved in the family’s long-running fantasy.
Galina was the first to break the awkward silence.
“Lena, please forgive us. We really thought everything had been agreed on. If we’d known no one told you, we wouldn’t have come here.”
Irina nodded.
“We actually wanted to rent a place at first. Mom even found several options.”
Elena looked at the young woman.
She was standing next to her suitcase, looking like she’d rather be back on the train by now.
“I have no issues with you,” Elena said. “And I’m not going to ruin the anniversary party. But no one’s staying overnight here.”
Lyudmila Viktorovna let out a heavy sigh.
— So, what now? Should we head to the train station?
— Why go to the train station? Your tickets are for Monday. We’ll find a place to stay.
Elena took out her phone, opened up some daily rental listings, and started searching for nearby options.
Within a few minutes, she found a small two-room apartment just ten minutes away. It had a separate bedroom, a sofa in the living room, a kitchen, and all the essentials.
Plenty of space for three people.
The total cost for two nights was 10,800 rubles.
She showed the photos to Galina.
— Will this work?
— Of course. That’s about what we expected to spend, until Lyuda suggested we stay here.
Elena called her husband again.
— Maksim, we found a place for your relatives. 10,800 rubles for two nights. You’ll be covering it.
— Lena, we have a shared account…
— That money is for our expenses. This was your arrangement, and you didn’t tell me about it.
Her husband paused for a moment.
— Okay. Send me the payment details.
Elena sent over the apartment owner’s contact info. Maksim got in touch with her and paid for the stay using his personal card, where he receives his salary.
Soon, they received confirmation of the reservation.
At the same time, Elena called a nearby cafe. That evening, they had a large table available. The manager allowed them to bring their own cake, as long as they ordered food and drinks.
Lyudmila Viktorovna listened in closely on all the arrangements.
— And what about the aspic? — she finally asked.
That turned out to be the toughest question after the apartment.
The pot was massive—enough aspic for twelve people.
— There’s a fridge at the apartment, — Irina offered. — We’ll take it there.
— And in the evening?
— We’re at the cafe tonight, Mom, — Galina said. — We’ll eat the aspic tomorrow.
Lyudmila Viktorovna looked around at her relatives and—surprisingly—gave in.
— Alright, but hold the lid tight. I was boiling that all night.
Twenty minutes later, a taxi showed up for the guests.
Before leaving, Galina paused for a moment.
— Lena, you should really come tonight. It doesn’t feel right. Boris and I honestly had no idea.
— I’ll come, — Elena replied. — It’s your anniversary, after all. You two are basically innocent bystanders in this whole story.
Galina smiled.
— And here I thought the scariest part about turning sixty would be the number on the cake.
Maksim only arrived from the neighboring city by evening.
At the cafe, he showed up with a bouquet for his aunt and an expression like he’d spent the whole trip rehearsing explanations, but none of them seemed convincing enough.
Elena was already sitting next to Irina, chatting about some TV series.
Her husband came over and quietly asked:
— Mind if I sit here?
— The seat’s free.
He sat down.
For a few minutes, he silently studied the menu.
Then he leaned toward his wife:
— Are you really mad?
— I’m still deciding how mad.
— Got it.
— Maksim, it’s not even the guests I’m upset about. You could have just asked me. We could have figured out together where to host everyone and how to celebrate.
— I was afraid you’d say no.
— So you thought it’d be better to ask me after everyone already showed up?
Her husband put down the menu.
— Yeah. I messed up.
Elena didn’t reply. She’d had enough explanations for one day.
The evening, much to everyone’s surprise, turned out to be quite pleasant.
Galina turned out to be a cheerful woman, Boris shared stories from his job, and the younger folks chatted about their travels.
The cake didn’t go to waste, either.
Only Lyudmila Viktorovna kept glancing at her son with a look that suggested she’d just discovered his general’s uniform was only rented for a photo.
When Galina suggested a toast to their happy family, Maxim glanced cautiously at his wife.
Elena raised her glass.
She truly valued family.
But she preferred that family unity didn’t require her to suddenly give up her own bedroom.
The couple got home around ten in the evening.
Maxim took off his jacket, hung it up, and headed for the kitchen.
Elena put on the kettle.
For a while, both of them were silent.
Then her husband started the conversation himself.
“I want to explain something to you.”
“About the apartment?”
“Yes.”
It turned out that five years ago, Maxim had really been too embarrassed to tell his mother that he was moving in with his wife.
Before their wedding, he’d been renting a small apartment, and Lyudmila Viktorovna constantly worried that her son was nearly forty and still didn’t have his own place.
After they got married, she once asked how they managed to get such a big apartment.
Maxim gave a vague answer.
Later, his mother concluded on her own that they’d bought the property together.
He liked that.
Family started praising him for being resourceful. His mother stopped asking about his housing plans. And Maxim unexpectedly noticed how nice it feels to get admiration from others, even when it’s not entirely deserved.
Over time, the story grew more elaborate.
He talked about the repairs, the shopping, the expenses. All of that really happened. The only thing was, the ownership still belonged to Elena.
“And then it just got too embarrassing to admit it,” Maxim finished.
“So, it was too embarrassing to tell the truth, but inviting people to stay in my bedroom without my knowledge was fine?”
“No. I understand.”
“You only understand because you got caught?”
That question clearly didn’t sit well with her husband.
He stared at his cup for a long time.
“Probably, if today had gone smoothly, I would’ve kept quiet.”
Elena appreciated at least that he wasn’t making up excuses.
“Maxim, I don’t need you to act like the owner of an apartment in front of your relatives. You work, you earn, you help with our expenses. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“I don’t know. For some reason, I just wanted to seem more successful to my mother.”
“And now you have to pay for a hotel because of those little fantasies.”
Her husband gave a wry smile.
“It turned out to be quite an expensive performance.”
“At least the set was real.”
After that, they talked for a long time—calmly, without any shouting.
Elena wasn’t planning to get divorced over just one birthday. Maxim was a good husband in many everyday things. He helped whenever her parents were sick, he never refused to do housework, and he never tried to control her paycheck.
But in this situation, he acted as if his mother’s respect mattered more than his wife’s.
And that couldn’t be fixed by a simple apology.
Elena laid out some rules.
No overnight guests without both spouses agreeing.
No one-sided decisions about family celebrations in their apartment.
No more giving spare keys to relatives. If anyone needs to help with the cat, we can arrange that separately.
And most importantly—Maksim should explain to his mother himself who actually owns the apartment. And he should do it without any hints that Elena made him confess.
“I’ve already said everything I needed to today,” his wife added. “I’m not going to keep proving my right to live in my own home.”
Maksim agreed.
The next day, he went to see his mother.
He didn’t ask Elena to go with him, nor did he send her to explain everything again.
He came back two hours later and shared that the conversation was unpleasant.
At first, Lyudmila Viktorovna was offended. Then she remembered all the times she’d boasted to her sister about her son’s apartment.
But by the end of the conversation, she admitted that Maksim was the one who had let her believe it.
She handed him the old key.
Maksim brought it home and put it in a box with other odds and ends.
He didn’t make any new copies.
The next month passed peacefully.
The relatives made it home safely. Galina even sent Elena a message thanking her for helping with the housing.
By the way, the aspic was eaten the next day in the apartment. According to Irina, there was even enough for the road.
At the end of November, Lyudmila Viktorovna unexpectedly called Elena.
“Lenochka, hello. I’m going to be in your area for some errands. I wanted to stop by if it’s convenient.”
Elena couldn’t help but smile.
Before, her mother-in-law would usually announce she was already on her way before checking if anyone was home.
“Of course, come over. I’m free after four.”
“Alright. I won’t stay long.”
This time, Lyudmila Viktorovna really did come alone—no pots, no suitcases, no backup group.
She brought a pie.
They had tea in the kitchen, chatted about the weather, prices, and her mother-in-law’s neighbor, who somehow managed to order the same blouse three times on the marketplace.
No one mentioned the apartment.
But before leaving, Lyudmila Viktorovna suddenly said:
“Don’t be too mad at me. I really thought Maksim was the owner.”
“I understand.”
“He’s liked to exaggerate since he was a kid. Once, at school, he said he was chosen as captain of the team. But it turned out he was just the one carrying the ball home.”
Elena laughed.
“Well, the important thing is, the ball was real.”
Her mother-in-law smiled too.
“Exactly. And we were already planning to buy a trophy.”
In the evening, Maksim came home from work and found his mom in the kitchen.
He greeted everyone, set his tool bag by the cabinet, and took out his new purchase.
“Mom, look at this drill I got. I’ve wanted one for a while.”
Lyudmila Viktorovna turned the tool over in her hands.
“Nice one. Expensive, I bet?”
“Not really—I got it on sale. And, by the way, it’s actually mine. Really mine. Receipt and warranty included. I can show you if you want.”
Elena, who was by the stove, burst out laughing.
“Did you order an official certificate of ownership for it too?”
“No,” Maksim replied, completely serious. “They don’t issue those for drills yet.”
Lyudmila Viktorovna shook her head.
“Alright, that’s enough. Are you going to keep teasing me about this for a year just because of one mistake?”
“Mom,” Maksim said, “you got off easy. That anniversary cost me almost eleven thousand.”
“But Aunt Galya was happy.”
— Especially since she didn’t have to spend the night in Lena’s office next to the printer.
— For the record, that sofa is actually comfortable, — her mother protested.
— Mom!
— Okay, I’ll be quiet.
She finished her tea, got ready to go home, and this time didn’t even ask if she could leave some things with them until her next visit.
When the door closed behind her, Maksim returned to the kitchen.
— Lena, is our folding table still holding up?
Elena slowly turned around.
Her husband quickly raised his hands in surrender.
— That’s it! No guests, I promise. I just want to fix it this weekend. It’s been wobbly for ages.
— Go ahead, fix it, — Elena allowed. — Just don’t count the chairs. The last time made me nervous.
Maksim laughed.
That weekend, he really did fix the table, didn’t invite anyone over and, for the first time in ages, cleaned out the clutter on the balcony himself.
And later, when his mother suggested gathering the family for the New Year’s holidays, he didn’t promise anything on behalf of his wife.
First, he discussed with Elena how many people they were willing to host and on which day.
Then he called his mother back.
In the end, they did host a New Year’s get-together. They let everyone know ahead of time that it would be a regular lunch without anyone staying overnight, and no one was offended.
Elena even pulled those two old folding chairs out of the storage closet.
It turned out that family celebrations could actually happen without any drama.
All it really took was not confusing hospitality with taking over someone else’s home, and not pretending to be someone you’re not in front of your relatives.
Still, Maksim was now inseparable from his screwdriver. At every opportunity, he offered to tighten something, screw something in, or drill a hole.
Elena suspected that her husband simply enjoyed having something that no one else claimed.
And she didn’t mind.
Let a person have at least one thing they can truly call their own and be proud of in front of all the family.