“Your family will not be registered here!” I told my husband after discovering the prepared documents.
Svetlana stood in the middle of the room. Her three-room apartment. Years of suffering and saving. All her efforts had finally paid off.
“Daughter, why are you just standing there?” her mother came in with a bucket and mop. “Let’s start cleaning before your father brings the wallpaper.”
“Mom, I just…” Svetlana swept her gaze over the bare walls. “It’s mine. Do you understand? Entirely mine.”
Her mother smiled and hugged her by the shoulders. The next three months turned into endless trips to hardware stores. Her father came every weekend, bringing tools. Svetlana chose every tile for the bathroom, every shade of paint for the walls herself.
“Svet, hold it straighter!” her father guided her hand with the roller. “Like this, you see? The main thing is—don’t rush.”
The apartment was transforming before their eyes. Svetlana poured her soul into it, imagining how cozy and warm it would become. Her parents helped without complaint, though Svetlana noticed how tired they looked after their own work.
A year passed. At a company party in a restaurant, Svetlana was seated next to the new programmer. Andrey turned out to be from a small town three hundred kilometers from Moscow. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an open smile.
“You’re all so… metropolitan here,” Andrey fidgeted nervously with his napkin. “I only moved a month ago. Everything feels strange.”
“What’s so strange?” Svetlana asked with interest.
“Oh, everything!” Andrey laughed. “Back home everyone knows everyone. But here… Yesterday I even got lost in the metro, can you imagine?”
Svetlana laughed. Andrey was simple and sincere. After two months of dating, he invited her to meet his parents.
“I’ll warn you right away,” Andrey said as he drove along a country road, “we live simply. Not like in Moscow.”
Svetlana nodded, looking out the window at the endless fields. The house was large but old. The whole family was waiting on the porch—Andrey’s parents, his two brothers, and younger sister.
“Oh, what a beauty!” Andrey’s mother immediately hugged Svetlana. “Come in, come in! The table’s already set!”
At dinner, everyone spoke at once. The brothers interrupted each other, telling stories from Andrey’s childhood. The sister bombarded Svetlana with questions about Moscow. The father ate silently, occasionally nodding.
“Do you have an apartment?” Andrey’s mother suddenly asked.
“Yes, a three-room one,” Svetlana answered.
“A three-room flat?” the eldest brother whistled. “In Moscow? You’re rich!”
Svetlana felt embarrassed. She wanted to explain about the years of saving, but Andrey quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.
“And your parents, who are they?” his mother continued.
“Dad’s an engineer, Mom’s an accountant,” Svetlana answered politely.
“Intellectuals then,” there was a strange note in Andrey’s mother’s voice.
The ride back was silent. Andrey glanced at Svetlana, trying to read her mood.
“They’re good people, just…” he began.
“Just different,” Svetlana finished. “I understand.”
They married six months later. Svetlana’s parents wanted a restaurant celebration, but Andrey’s family insisted on a village wedding.
“Why all the pretensions?” Andrey’s mother said. “We’ll gather in the yard, set tables. Our way, simple!”
Svetlana gave in. On the wedding day, half the village gathered in Andrey’s yard. Accordion music, folk songs, silly contests with a bride ransom. Svetlana’s parents sat a bit bewildered among all this revelry.
“Kiss! Kiss!” the guests shouted for the hundredth time.
Svetlana kissed Andrey, telling herself that love would overcome any differences. Andrey held her hand, and that made her calmer.
After the wedding, they lived in Svetlana’s apartment. The first months passed in the happy bustle of setting up their new life. But after six months, the visits began.
“Svetochka, we’re here for a week!” Andrey’s mother stood on the threshold with huge bags.
Then came the elder brother. Then the younger one with the sister. Never all together, but always someone staying in their apartment.
Svetlana grew anxious. Andrey didn’t see a problem.
“They’re family, Svet!” he said. “How could I not let them in?”
“But they come too often!” Svetlana tried not to raise her voice. “I feel like this isn’t our apartment, but a train station!”
“You’re exaggerating,” Andrey hugged her. “So what if they came? What’s the big deal?”
Svetlana’s patience snapped when Andrey’s parents showed up unannounced and stayed for two weeks. Her mother-in-law rearranged all the dishes in the cupboards, and her father-in-law watched TV at full blast all day long.
“That’s it!” Svetlana rose from the table, where she had been eating dinner with her in-laws for the fourteenth day in a row. “I’m sorry, but it’s time for you to go home.”
“What do you mean, time to go?” her mother-in-law’s eyes widened. “We came to see our son!”
Continued in the comments.