Lilia was putting the child’s clothes away in the dresser when the front door slammed with unusual force. Five-year-old Maksim was already asleep in his bed, and the woman tried not to make any noise. The autumn evening outside was quiet; only occasionally did fallen leaves rustle under the feet of the rare passersby.

Her husband walked into the hallway without even saying hello. Dmitry took off his shoes and hung his jacket on a hook with a sharp motion. From his face, Lilia understood—the day hadn’t been a good one.

“Did something happen at work?” the woman asked, coming out to her husband.

Dmitry went into the kitchen, turned on the kettle, and only then turned to his wife.

“Mom’s coming for the whole summer,” he threw out, not even looking at Lilia.

The woman stopped in the middle of the corridor. Summer had ended a month ago; it was October outside.

“For what summer?” Lilia clarified. “It’s autumn now.”

“Next summer,” Dmitry explained. “Raisa Stepanovna has already bought the tickets. She’s arriving in May and will be staying with us until September.”

Lilia slowly walked into the kitchen and sat down on a chair across from her husband.

“Four months?” she repeated.

“Yes. And one more thing,” Dmitry poured himself filtered water and downed it in one gulp. “Raisa Stepanovna can’t stand you. Pack your things, take our son, and go away. As long as my mother is here, you two shouldn’t be.”

Lilia froze in place, blinking, not knowing how to react. Her husband’s words were so absurd that she wondered—maybe Dmitry was joking

“Are you serious?” Lilia asked quietly.

“Absolutely,” her husband replied. “Raisa Stepanovna doesn’t want to live under the same roof with you. And I can’t refuse my own mother.”

A heavy silence settled in the kitchen. Only the hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of cars from the street could be heard. From the children’s room came the measured breathing of sleeping Maksim.

Lilia tilted her head to the side, trying to process what she’d heard. Blood slowly rushed to the woman’s face, betraying her growing indignation.

“This is my home, not a boarding house for your mother,” Lilia said calmly

Dmitry set the glass on the table and, for the first time during the entire conversation, looked his wife in the eye.

“Raisa Stepanovna is my mother. I’m obligated to ensure she lives comfortably.”

“At the cost of evicting your wife and grandson?” Lilia clarified.

“You’ll find somewhere to stay. At your parents’, for example.”

Lilia rose from the chair and went to the window. The streetlights were coming on outside, illuminating the deserted courtyard. She remembered how eight years ago she had bought this two-room apartment with her savings. Dmitry had been working as a trainee at a small firm then and had no money for housing

“The apartment belongs to me,” Lilia reminded him. “And the people who live here are the ones I decide on.”

Dmitry got up from the table, clearly bracing for an argument.

“You’re forgetting parental authority,” he began, though there was no confidence in his voice. “Raisa Stepanovna is older, wiser. She has the right—”

“The right to what?” Lilia cut him off. “To throw the homeowner out of her own house?”

“She isn’t throwing you out. She’s just asking you to temporarily clear some space.”

Lilia turned to her husband. Dmitry avoided her direct gaze, studying the pattern on the kitchen tiles.

“And where, in Raisa Stepanovna’s opinion, are her grandson and daughter-in-law supposed to live for those four months?”

“Well… with your parents. Or you can rent something.”

“With my money?”

“With our money,” Dmitry corrected himself.

“With my money,” Lilia repeated. “Because your salary barely covers the groceries.”

Her husband fell irritably silent, realizing that arguing further was pointless. Lilia really did earn three times more and supported the family almost single-handedly.