— Arkady, who was walking around the second floor with a tape measure today?
Margarita stood in the middle of the guest bedroom, eyeing the items spread out on the windowsill. A tape measure. A pencil. A sheet of graph paper, with the exact measurements of both rooms, the study, and even the stairway landing written out neatly. Beside them were four small samples of furniture laminate: light oak, gray-beige, walnut, and an almost white shade.
None of this had been there in the morning.
Margarita remembered clearly, because before work she had gone up to the study to grab her folder of documents.
She got home on Friday around seven in the evening. Arkady was running late, so Margarita decided to quickly walk through the house and open some windows after a stuffy day. As soon as she reached the second floor, she noticed the door to the guest room wide open—it was usually left just slightly ajar.
At first, she assumed her husband had been looking for something.
Then she spotted the piece of paper.
On it, written in someone else’s handwriting, it said:
“Wardrobe — 180. Bed 160. Dresser here.”
Below that:
“Veronika gets the farther room. Mom takes the one closer by.”
Margarita spent a few more seconds looking over the notes before pulling out her phone.
Arkady answered right away.
— Oh, you’re home already?
— Yes, I’m home. That’s why I’m asking: who was measuring the bedrooms?
Her husband didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t understand.
— My mom and Veronika came over.
Margarita slowly lowered the note.
— When?
— In the afternoon. I gave them the key.
— Why?
— To look at the rooms.
— Arkady, what rooms?
On the other end, there was a short sigh—like someone who has to spell out the obvious.
— Rita, we’ve talked about the second floor being almost unused.
— We said we rarely use the guest bedrooms.
— Exactly.
— And?
— The house is huge, you don’t need all that space to yourself. My mom and sister are going to take over the second floor.
At first, Margarita actually thought her husband was making a bad joke.
But Arkady went on, completely serious:
— Mom will take the room near the staircase, Veronika gets the far one. Nobody’s touching your study. They’ll have their own bathroom. They won’t bother us at all.
Margarita sat down on the edge of the bed.
Not because she was confused, but because it was clear this conversation was going to drag on.
— Are you seriously telling me that two grown women are moving into my house?
— Our house.
— No. My house.
— Rita, here we go…
— Nothing’s starting. I’m just clarifying the facts.
Arkady was silent.
In reality, the house really did belong to Margarita.
Not because the couple had once decided to put it in her name out of convenience, and not because Arkady had signed over his share.
She bought the land several years before she even met him.
Back then, there was only an old utility shed and a few apple trees on the plot. Margarita spent a long time picking the house design, almost a year sorting out paperwork, hunting for contractors, and slowly building it up.
The first summer, the house frame went up.
The next year, the roof, windows, and all the utilities were installed.
Then Margarita paused construction for several months—she didn’t want to take on extra obligations. She only continued when she could comfortably pay for the next phase.
Finishing the interiors took almost another two years.
The first night she spent in her fully finished home, she wandered from room to room all morning, hardly believing it was finally done.
At that time, Arkady wasn’t even a part of her life yet.
They met much later at a mutual friend’s birthday party.
Arkady struck Margarita as a calm, rational person. He didn’t try to impress her, didn’t go on endlessly about himself, nor did he imagine a future together after just a few meetings.
They dated for almost ten months before he moved in with her.
He moved in—that’s all.
He didn’t buy half the house, take part in building it, or contribute to any past expenses.
No one was bothered by this.
Arkady had his own small one-room apartment, inherited from his grandmother a few years earlier. When he moved in with Margarita, they decided to rent it out.
A year after living together, they got married.
By then, they both knew each other’s daily habits and had no illusions about married life.
Arkady liked things orderly but absolutely hated dealing with small repairs.
Margarita could easily fix a leaking pipe, but would forget to buy cleaning supplies on time.
He usually handled the big shopping trips.
She took care of the house and garden.
They almost never had any major conflicts.
Until today.
“So what happened?” Margarita asked. “Why did Tamara Lvovna and Veronika decide to move in here?”
Arkady seemed relieved that the conversation turned practical.
“Mom wants to rent out her apartment.”
“Why?”
“She just thinks it’s the smartest thing to do. Plus, she could stay with us anyway.”
“And Veronika?”
“She’s tired of paying rent. She wants to save up for a down payment.”
Margarita glanced at the piece of paper.
“So your mom rents out her two-bedroom apartment, gets the money, and lives here for free.”
“Yeah.”
“And Veronika stops renting as well and lives here for free, too.”
“Just temporarily.”
“And you still rent out your apartment?”
Her husband hesitated.
“What does my place have to do with this?”
“I’m just mapping out the whole scenario here.”
“The tenants in my apartment don’t bother anyone.”
Margarita stood up.
Now things were getting truly interesting.
“When are they planning to move in?”
“Mom’s coming in about a month.”
“For how long?”
“Well… at least a year, I think.”
“At least?”
“She wants to see first how renting out the apartment goes.”
“And Veronika?”
“Until she saves enough.”
“How long will that take, exactly?”
“I don’t know. A year, a year and a half. Maybe two.”
Margarita turned to the window.
A streetlight came on in front of the house. Behind the fence, a neighbor started up their lawn mower, even though it was already getting late for that.
“So there isn’t a specific end date.”
“Rita, why make a big deal out of it? The entire second floor is practically empty.”
Upstairs, there were two guest rooms, Margarita’s small office, and a separate bathroom.
Guests didn’t come every week.
Sometimes friends would stay over.
A few times, Margarita’s cousin and her daughter visited.
On New Year’s, one room was taken by friends from out of town.
But most of the time, the bedrooms really did stand empty.
Margarita designed the house this way on purpose.
She wanted to have space.
She didn’t want every square meter to be crammed with beds, boxes, and wardrobes just because the space existed.
Sometimes, in the summer, one room would become her staging area for packing before trips.
Another room was perfect for hosting guests overnight.
The study was constantly in use.
It never even crossed Margarita’s mind that an extra room automatically meant an open invitation for someone to move in indefinitely.
But apparently, Arkady saw things differently.
“Have they decided anything about their apartments yet?” she asked.
“Mom found people.”
“Already?”
“Yeah. Friends of friends. A good couple.”
“What about Veronika?”
“She told her landlady she’ll move out in a month.”
Margarita frowned.
“So they already found tenants, gave up their leases, measured the rooms—and you’re only telling me about this now?”
“I wanted to talk about it properly tonight.”
“After your sister already gave notice to her landlady?”
“Well, she’s not moving out tomorrow.”
“How generous.”
Arkady was silent for a moment, then said:
“I just didn’t think you’d be against it.”
“Why?”
“There’s plenty of space.”
“Arkady, the size of the house doesn’t answer the question of whether I want to live with your mother and sister.”
“You’ll hardly see them.”
“They’ll be living here.”
“On the second floor.”
“To get upstairs, they’ll need to use the entrance, the kitchen, the stairs, the yard. Tamara Lvovna isn’t going to spend a year just in the bedroom and only leave to use the bathroom.”
“She’ll help out around the house.”
“I didn’t ask for help.”
“Sometimes she’ll buy groceries.”
Margarita gave a wry smile.
“Such a compelling argument.”
“What’s your problem this time?”
“I don’t like that I’m being asked to host a free hostel for a year or two just so your three properties can keep profiting their owners.”
“What three?”
“Your apartment, your mother’s apartment, and Veronika’s future apartment, which she’s saving up for.”
“You’re twisting things.”
“I’m not twisting anything yet.”
Arkady’s voice grew louder:
“The utilities will barely go up.”
“Even more reason—it’s the perfect deal.”
“What deal?”
“Move them into your apartment.”
Her husband didn’t answer.
Margarita went on:
“You have a one-bedroom apartment. Tell your tenants to move out when their lease ends, and let your mom and sister move in.”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Almost too quickly.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m renting it out.”
“I know.”
“I’m saving that money.”
“So you’ll just temporarily stop saving.”
“Why should I?”
Margarita smiled.
“Now we’re finally getting to the interesting part of the conversation.”
“It’s a one-bedroom.”
“And?”
“Two grown women in one room would hate each other within a week.”
“And having them here for a year won’t wear me down?”
“You live on the first floor.”
“How lucky for me.”
“Rita, you know perfectly well it’s not the same.”
“Very different. In one case, the inconvenience and financial loss is on you. In the other, it’s on me.”
Arkady exhaled in frustration.
“I’m not losing my rental income just because we have two empty rooms upstairs.”
— And Tamara Lvovna has no intention of giving up the rental on her apartment.
— Of course. Why would she?
— Veronika isn’t planning on continuing to pay for a rental place either.
— She wants to save up some money.
— And Margarita is the one offering them free rooms.
— You’re talking like they’re about to take your house away from you.
— No. They just plan to take advantage of it for years, while everyone else is tightening their belts and working hard.
— Honestly, Rita, sometimes you really know how to turn the smallest thing into a matter of principle.
— This isn’t a small thing. And yes, it’s about principle.
Her husband called to say he’d be home soon and then hung up.
Margarita gathered up the measuring tape, samples, and slip of paper, took everything downstairs, and set it all on the hallway cabinet.
When Arkady arrived, she was cooking dinner.
He entered the kitchen, tense, though trying to act normal.
— So?
— So what?
— Are we going to keep talking about it?
— We can.
— Just keep it calm.
Margarita wiped her hands and turned to him.
— I am completely calm.
— Then tell me straight—do you regret letting them use the rooms?
— I don’t regret the rooms. I just don’t want permanent houseguests.
— My mother isn’t some stranger.
— To you, she isn’t.
Arkady frowned.
— What do you mean by that?
— Just what I said. I have nothing against Tamara Lvovna. Veronika hasn’t done anything wrong to me either. But just because things are good between us doesn’t mean I want to live under the same roof with them.
— It’s temporary.
— A year at the very least isn’t just a temporary visit.
— Mom won’t interfere.
Margarita looked at her husband.
— The last time your mother visited, in just two hours she managed to tell me where it’s best to put the shoes, why we need two fridges, and that we should plant currants by the house. Now you’re asking me to believe that in a whole year she won’t change anything in our way of life?
Arkady couldn’t think of a reply at first.
— She was just giving advice.
— Exactly. Two hours of advice. Now imagine that multiplied by at least three hundred days.
Her husband opened the fridge, took out a bottle of water, and took a few sips.
— You just don’t like her.
— Whether I like her or not doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have to want to live with someone just because they’re your relative.
— Veronika works all day anyway.
— Great. Then she can keep living where she is now.
— She’s losing money.
— People normally have to pay for housing.
— She’s trying to save up for her own place.
— I once saved up for my own place too.
Arkady closed the water bottle.
— For you, it always comes down to who owes what to whom.
— Today, that’s not me drawing those lines.
He wanted to reply, but changed his mind.
The rest of the evening passed in a chilly silence.
The next day, around noon, Margarita heard a car pull up by the gate.
She looked out the window and instantly saw Tamara Lvovna and Veronika.
Her mother-in-law had come wearing a light-colored suit and was carrying a folder. Veronika was lugging the same bag of furniture samples Margarita had found upstairs the day before.
Seeing the guests arrive, Arkady noticeably tensed up.
— Did you know they were coming?
— Mom messaged me this morning.
— And you didn’t tell me?
— Rita, they just want to have a conversation.
— Fine by me. I want one too.
Tamara Lvovna entered the house in a cheerful mood.
— Well, now that we’re all here, I think we should set some dates right away, because there are people ready to move into my place as soon as the 15th.
Veronika took off her shoes and looked at Margarita.
— I promised my current landlady I’d move out by the end of the month.
“Then it’s best to clear everything up today,” Margarita replied.
Her mother-in-law smiled.
“I think so too.”
They walked into the living room.
Arkady sat down in an armchair.
Veronika made herself comfortable on the sofa.
Tamara Lvovna opened a folder.
“I’ve made a rough list of what we need. I’ll bring almost all my own furniture. The bed’s pretty big, might have to take it apart. Veronika hardly needs anything. Just a table.”
Margarita raised her hand.
“Tamara Lvovna, there’s no need to move any furniture.”
Her mother-in-law paused.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not moving in here.”
Veronika immediately turned to her brother.
Arkady frowned.
Tamara Lvovna seemed to think her daughter-in-law had just misspoken.
“I don’t understand.”
“The second floor won’t be at your disposal.”
“Arkady?”
Her mother-in-law looked at her son.
He ran his hand over his face.
“Mom, we talked about this yesterday.”
“And?”
“Rita is against it.”
Tamara Lvovna turned her gaze toward her daughter-in-law.
“Against what?”
“Against you living here.”
“But why?”
“Because I don’t want to turn this house into a home for three families.”
“What three families?” her mother-in-law protested. “Veronika and I aren’t some separate family. We’re family.”
“But you’d still be living here full time.”
“On the second floor!”
“I know the layout of my own house.”
Tamara Lvovna set the folder aside.
“Margarita, your place is so big, you could fit ten more people here and never even meet.”
“I don’t want ten.”
“I wasn’t talking about ten!”
“I get it.”
Her mother-in-law raised her voice:
“There are two rooms just sitting completely empty up there!”
“They’re not empty. They’re guest rooms.”
“What guests? How many times a year does anyone even visit you?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“How can that not matter?”
“It’s simple. Even if I close those rooms and don’t walk in for five years, it doesn’t mean they become available living space.”
Veronika chimed in gently:
“Rita, I really wasn’t planning to bother anyone. Just a few months would help me out a lot.”
Margarita turned to her.
“A few?”
Veronika hesitated.
“Well… until I save up enough money.”
“Arkady said it might be a year or two.”
“I’ll try to make it sooner.”
“I’m sure you will. But I’m not okay with even a year.”
Tamara Lvovna slapped her hand on her knee.
“I never expected such pettiness from you.”
Arkady immediately spoke up:
“Mom.”
“What do you mean, ‘Mom’? The house is huge! There’s just the two of them in it! They barely use the second floor. I live alone in a two-room apartment, and even I know space should be put to use.”
Margarita looked at her mother-in-law intently.
“Perfect.”
“What’s perfect?”
“Give your apartment to Veronika.”
Silence filled the room.
Even Veronika looked surprised.
Tamara Lvovna sat up straight.
“What do you mean, give it to her?”
“It would be very convenient. Veronika wouldn’t need to rent a place anymore. You could sign the apartment over to her or at least let her live there rent-free.”
“And where am I supposed to live?”
“You could rent yourself a small apartment.”
“Why should I rent if I have my own place?”
“Then live in your own apartment.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous on purpose.”
“Why? You just told me that a big space should be used for good. Clearly, Veronika needs the apartment more.”
Her mother-in-law frowned.
“My apartment is my property.”
“Exactly.”
Tamara Lvovna fell silent for a moment.
Margarita continued:
“Are you planning to rent it out?”
“Of course.”
“So you want to benefit from it?”
“That’s what real estate is for.”
“Exactly.”
Margarita said this with complete calm.
Tamara Lvovna stared at her for a few seconds, and then finally seemed to realize where her daughter-in-law was leading the conversation.
“Don’t compare.”
“Why not?”
“Because your house is several times bigger.”
“The size of the property doesn’t change who owns it.”
“I’m not asking you to give me a whole floor!”
“But you want to use it for free for at least a year.”
“You expect me to pay rent to my own daughter-in-law?”
“I’m not even asking you to pay. I’m suggesting you don’t move in.”
Veronika set her bag down on the floor.
“Mom, maybe we really shouldn’t go through with this.”
Tamara Lvovna quickly turned to her daughter.
“Be quiet. This is all your fault.”
“It’s not just because of me. You wanted to rent your apartment out yourself.”
“Because it’s the sensible thing to do!”
Margarita nodded.
“I agree.”
Her mother-in-law looked at her irritably.
“Agree with what?”
“That the property owner should be the one to decide what benefit the property brings them.”
Tamara Lvovna opened her mouth, but Margarita didn’t let the conversation go in circles again.
“You rent out your apartment if you want. Arkady keeps renting his out. Veronika gets to decide where she lives and how she saves her money. And my house remains my house—not a free place to stay for relatives who want to keep their own savings intact.”
Arkady finally spoke up:
“Rita, you could have been a little gentler.”
“You could have asked me first, before inviting people to measure the rooms.”
Her mother-in-law jumped up.
“I’m not stealing from anyone!”
“I never said you were.”
“But that’s exactly what you mean!”
“No. I’m saying you planned to improve your finances at the expense of my space.”
“Money again!”
“Then why are you renting out your apartment?”
Tamara Lvovna was at a loss for words.
Veronika suddenly laughed.
Quietly, more out of awkwardness.
Her mother shot her a sharp look.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Very funny, of course.”
Veronika sighed.
“Mom, Rita has a point. We really did make all these decisions before asking her.”
“Arkady said there wouldn’t be a problem!”
Margarita turned to her husband.
“This brings us to the second part.”
Arkady immediately knew what she meant.
“Rita…”
“No, let’s talk about it now.”
“With Mom here? Is that necessary?”
“Exactly with her here.”
Tamara Lvovna crossed her arms.
“Now I’m really curious.”
Margarita looked at her husband.
“Arkady, why did you think you could promise people a place to live in a house that doesn’t belong to you?”
“I didn’t think you’d be against it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“We’re a married couple.”
“And?”
“I live here.”
“You do. But you don’t have sole authority over the house.”
“I didn’t bring in strangers.”
“You offered two people to move in here indefinitely.”
“They’re family!”
“Your family.”
Arkady was visibly angry.
“Wonderful. So my family are strangers to you?”
— Don’t change the question. I have relatives I love, but that doesn’t mean I can just tell you tomorrow: my cousin is moving into the guest room for two years because it’s convenient for him.
— I wouldn’t make it a big deal.
— Well, why don’t we put that to the test?
— What do you mean?
— How about when your apartment is free, my relatives live there for a year?
Arkady looked at her.
— Here we go again.
— Why not? You just said you wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.
Veronika turned away to hide her smile.
Tamara Lvovna spoke up sharply:
— What does Arkady’s apartment have to do with this? He’s renting it out!
Margarita turned to her mother-in-law.
— And I’m not renting out my house.
— But no one is living there!
— And there are strangers living in his apartment only because he decided to earn some income from it.
— Well, that’s his right!
— Exactly.
Margarita paused briefly.
— That’s what I’ve been trying to explain for the past twenty-four hours.
After those words, the argument completely lost its point.
Tamara Lvovna spent another ten minutes trying to convince everyone that the situation was absolutely different.
First, she brought up that Margarita “isn’t even using” the rooms.
Then she said that Veronika wouldn’t bother anyone.
Next, she suggested limiting the stay to just a year.
Each time, Margarita kept her answer short.
— No.
No further explanation.
When she ran out of arguments, her mother-in-law gathered her folder.
— Fine. I understand.
— Excellent.
— Just don’t be surprised if you get treated the same way later.
— Treated how?
— The same way.
Margarita shrugged.
— If you ever tell me I can’t stay at your place for free for a year, I’ll survive.
This time, Veronika couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh.
Tamara Lvovna shot her daughter an angry look.
— Get ready.
— I already am.
Veronika paused at the door.
— Rita, I’ll tell the landlady that I’m staying, then.
— The sooner, the better.
— Okay.
She was silent for a moment.
— I honestly thought you and Arkady had already talked it out.
— I believe you.
— He told me the issue was settled.
Margarita glanced at her husband, who was standing a bit further away.
— And that’s why we’re going to have a new rule now.
Arkady asked irritably:
— What new rule?
— You can’t promise anyone they’ll live here without my permission.
— You could have said this without an audience.
— You also could have avoided promising your sister a room before asking the homeowner.
Veronika quickly said goodbye and left.
Tamara Lvovna was already waiting by the car.
A minute later, they drove off.
Arkady closed the door and returned to the living room.
— Happy now?
— Happy about what?
— You said no.
— Yes, I did.
— Now my mom won’t talk to me normally for a month.
— That’s her choice.
— And Veronika will have to keep paying for her own place.
— That’s not the end of the world either.
— Is there anything that bothers you at all?
Margarita looked at him.
— What bothers me is something else.
— What is it?
— That you don’t see a problem with your own actions.
Arkady frowned.
— What actions?
— You acted like you could make decisions about my house without even considering I might not agree.
— We live here together.
— But that doesn’t mean you can move people in.
— I just wanted to help my mom and sister.
— Then help them.
— How exactly?
— You have your own apartment.
Arkady waved his hand dismissively.
— That’s enough about the apartment.
— Why? Yesterday, it seemed like the perfect solution to me.
— Because I’m not about to lose the rental income.
— And I’m not about to lose my privacy.
Her husband paced around the room.
— You’re putting money and comfort above family.
Margarita burst out laughing.
— Arkady, can we please drop the fancy wording, at least here?
— What’s so funny?
— Because when it’s your apartment, suddenly income matters. When it’s your mother’s place—income matters there, too. Veronika cares about keeping money. But when I mention my comfort, suddenly it’s all about morals.
Her husband stopped.
— That’s not what I said.
— That’s exactly what you said.
— Fine. Suppose that’s true.
— Okay.
— But the rooms are still empty.
Margarita glanced toward the staircase.
— Arkady, do you really want to use the second floor so badly?
— I just don’t see the point in keeping all that space unused.
— Alright. I’ll move some of my things up there tomorrow.
— Why?
— So you’ll feel better knowing the rooms aren’t vacant.
He smirked.
— Very funny.
— I’m not joking.
The next day, Margarita actually sorted through one of the guest rooms.
Not because she urgently needed new space.
She just got tired of hearing the word “empty.”
She moved some seasonal clothes, a few boxes of documents, and set up a little spot for herself to do housework in peace.
The second bedroom stayed as the guest room.
Arkady noticed the changes that evening.
— Happy now?
— Yes.
— Are you doing this just to prove a point?
— No. I did it so you’d stop thinking the unmade bed is up for grabs.
And that’s how their first major family argument ended.
Tamara Lvovna was indeed rather cold toward her son for a while.
She barely called Margarita at all.
But she never actually went through with renting out her own apartment.
She let people she’d contacted know that circumstances had changed.
She also decided not to move in with Veronika in that two-room place.
Turns out, the thought of constantly sharing the kitchen and bathroom with her adult daughter was not appealing to Tamara Lvovna at all.
Veronika called Margarita about a week later.
— Can I ask you something?
— Of course.
— Are you really mad at me?
— No.
— Really?
— Really.
— I realized later… That whole thing looked so weird.
— A little bit.
— We showed up with a tape measure at someone else’s house.
— That’s the part I liked the most.
Veronika laughed.
— I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Arkady told me you were okay with it.
— Now you know it’s better to ask directly.
— I know that now.
Veronika stayed in her rented apartment.
She agreed with her landlady to stay put for now, and kept saving money her own way.
In fact, the women’s relationship wasn’t damaged at all by this.
Unlike her mother, Veronika quickly realized Margarita’s refusal wasn’t meant as a personal insult.
A couple months later, she came by, and while going upstairs to get her charger, which she had left earlier, she peeked into the guest room.
— So, still haven’t had anyone move in?
— Not yet.
— That’s a lot of space going unused.
Margarita looked at her.
Veronika burst out laughing.
— Okay, I’ll stop.
But the consequences with Arkady turned out to be more serious.
It wasn’t that Margarita wanted to get revenge on him for that one bad decision.
She just needed to make sure he really understood the boundary.
One night at dinner, she said:
“We need to make an agreement, once and for all.”
“About what?”
“We share the home. But whenever somebody else moves in, we talk about it first.”
“I get it.”
“Not just ‘informing’ each other—we actually discuss it.”
“Alright.”
“If even one of us doesn’t want someone living here permanently, then it’s not happening.”
Arkady nodded.
“Agreed.”
“And no handing out keys without a heads-up.”
Her husband winced.
“But Mom isn’t a stranger.”
“She got the key without my knowledge.”
“Okay. It won’t happen again.”
This time, Margarita felt that was enough.
She had no intention of turning one incident into a never-ending family trial.
Arkady had made a mistake.
The problem wasn’t the idea of helping relatives. They could’ve talked about a month-long stay, searching for another place, temporary help for Veronika, or any other option.
The issue was the order of things.
First, Arkady came up with a convenient plan.
Then he told his mother and sister about it.
After that, his relatives adjusted their plans to fit.
And only then did the woman who actually owned the house find out about the plan.
It happened by chance—thanks to a measuring tape and a scrap of paper with room sizes.
Arkady, for a long time, winced at the memory of that Friday.
A few months later, Margarita happened to see him reading a message from the tenants of his apartment.
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re planning to move out.”
“Have they been there long?”
“Almost three years.”
“Will you look for new tenants?”
“Of course.”
Margarita gave him a long look.
Arkady caught on immediately.
“Don’t even start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I know that look.”
“I just thought: the apartment’s going to be empty soon.”
“A week, tops.”
“But Veronika could use it.”
Arkady frowned.
“No.”
Margarita smiled.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m renting out the apartment.”
“But it’ll be vacant for a little while.”
“Rita.”
“What?”
“I get it.”
“Get what exactly?”
Arkady paused, then laughed.
“I understand completely. Have for a while.”
“Good.”
“Can we stop with the teasing now?”
“We can.”
A few days later, he found new tenants.
And Margarita never again heard him claiming that unused square meters were worthless.
Turned out, they did have value.
Especially when it came to property that was his own.
Tamara Lvovna also stopped bringing up the idea of moving.
She stayed in her two-bedroom and would sometimes complain she could be making money from her apartment if “things had worked out differently.”
Margarita didn’t react to her comments.
She knew exactly what circumstances her mother-in-law was talking about.
The mother-in-law wanted to keep her apartment, profit from it, and not spend anything on her own housing.
Veronika wanted to stop paying rent.
Arkady wanted to help both women without affecting his own interests.
Individually, all those wishes made perfect sense.
It was just the final arrangement that was unusual.
Arkady kept his apartment with tenants.
Tamara Lvovna got potential tenants for the future.
Veronika was able to save her money.
For some reason, Margarita was expected to provide two rooms, a bathroom, and a shared house, sharing her own space for years with people she was never even asked if she wanted to see every day.
But the funniest part happened later.
One day, at the family table, Tamara Lvovna was telling a friend about a neighbor who let her adult nephew stay for a month—only for him to end up living there almost a year.
“You should never let people stay too long,” the mother-in-law declared confidently. “It’s impossible to explain when it’s time for them to move out. At first they all promise, ‘We won’t stay long,’ and then end up settling in.”
Margarita looked up.
Arkady coughed and turned away.
Veronika hid her smile.
Tamara Lvovna noticed the kids’ reactions.
“What?”
“Nothing, Mom,” Veronika said quickly.
“Exactly,” added Margarita.
The mother-in-law looked at her and understood everything.
But she didn’t argue.
Maybe, for the first time, she finally saw the situation from another angle.
Margarita, too, had long stopped being angry.
Life in the house had settled back into its usual rhythm.
Guests sometimes spent the night on the second floor.
Margarita used her office a few times a week.
One room could still sit empty for months at a time.
And no one was worse off because of it.
Margarita could have locked it up.
She could have filled it with empty boxes.
She could have left it completely empty.
It didn’t matter.
The room was inside her house.
And just because no one was in it didn’t turn it into a public resource.
Arkady once thought the second floor was just wasted space—perfect for his mother and sister to use.
He thought the solution was so obvious that he made promises before even talking to his wife.
His mother wanted to take advantage of her own apartment.
His sister wanted to save money on rent.
Arkady wanted to keep earning income from his own property.
Only Margarita was expected not to see her square meters as something valuable.
Until she suggested exactly the same deal to her husband.
Clear out his apartment from renters.
Move his relatives in there.
Give up rental income—all for their convenience.
And suddenly, Arkady’s one-bedroom apartment stopped being “unused space.”
It was property.
It provided benefits.
It had an owner.
And the owner gets to decide how it’s used.
Margarita just had to remind him that the same rule applies to a big house.
The size of someone else’s home doesn’t give anyone the right to hand out its rooms.