The news of her grandfather’s death caught Yana in the middle of the workday. She was sitting at the computer when a message from her mother arrived: “Grandpa Misha died. Heart. Come as soon as you can.”
Yana did not cry – she and her grandfather had not been particularly close in recent years. But something broke inside, as if a part of the world that seemed unshakable had disappeared. Grandfather Mikhail Stepanovich had always been there. He simply was – with his habit of drinking tea from a saucer, with stories about the war, with the eternal smell of tobacco and apples.
Two weeks after the funeral, Yana learned that her grandfather had left her a house as an inheritance. The same one where she spent every summer until she was fifteen. Two-story, log, with a veranda and a garden where apple and cherry trees grew. With a small bathhouse on the edge of the plot and a well with ice-cold water.
“He made a will five years ago,” said the mother, handing the documents to Yana. “He wanted the house to stay in the family. All these years he was afraid that it would be torn down or sold.”
Yana remembered this house down to the smallest details. The creaky stairs to the second floor. The stove, which gave off heat in the mornings. The floorboards, which you couldn’t walk on barefoot on especially cold days. The attic, where she hid with a book on rainy days.
The house stood on the outskirts of the village, half an hour’s drive from the city. A small plot of six hundred square meters with an old but still fruitful apple tree, currant and gooseberry bushes. The place was quiet, but with good transport accessibility.
When Yana told her husband about the inheritance, Kirill reacted with unexpected enthusiasm.
– A country house? That’s great! – the husband’s eyes lit up. – How many rooms are there? Is the plot big?
“Five rooms, if you count the kitchen,” Yana answered. “The plot is small, but cozy.”
“We need to go and have a look,” Kirill was already taking out his phone, checking his schedule. “Can we do it this weekend?”
Yana was planning to go alone – she wanted to be there, remember her childhood, say goodbye to her grandfather. But her husband’s enthusiasm was so sincere that she agreed:
– Okay, let’s do it on Saturday morning.
The house greeted them with the smell of dust and stale air. Yana opened the windows, letting in the spring air. Kirill walked through the rooms, knocking on the walls, checking the floors.
“It’s a solid house,” the husband pronounced his verdict. “It needs repairs, of course, but the foundation is good, the walls are dry. Everything can be arranged here perfectly.”
“I wasn’t planning on doing any major renovations,” Yana noted. “I like how everything is done here. It’s a memory of my grandfather.”
“I understand,” Kirill nodded. “But at least it needs to be freshened up. New wallpaper, maybe change the floors. And paint the outside.”
Yana agreed – yes, some updating wouldn’t hurt. They spent the whole day in the house, discussing what and how could be changed without violating the general spirit of the place. Kirill enthusiastically photographed the rooms, made notes on his phone. Yana liked his enthusiasm.
“It’s great that we now have a country corner,” Kirill said as they drove home. “In the summer we’ll come here on weekends to barbecue. We can invite friends.”
“Here we are,” Yana noted to herself. However, they had been married for three years already, so formally Kirill had the right to consider the house partly his own. And Yana didn’t object – they both needed a place to rest from the bustle of the city.
A week later, Kirill unexpectedly suggested:
– Let’s take Mom to see the house? She’s dreamed of a dacha her whole life.
“We’ll take it, of course,” Yana agreed. She had an even relationship with her mother-in-law – without much warmth, but without conflicts either.
On Saturday, the three of them arrived. Nina Viktorovna, Kirill’s mother, walked around the house as if she were assessing a potential purchase.
“It’s a nice place,” the mother-in-law finally said. “But there’s a lot of work to do. The wallpaper is all stained, the floors creak. And the color is terrible. Who in their right mind paints their walls green?”
“It was Grandpa who chose it,” Yana felt a pang of resentment. “He liked this color.”
– Well, Grandpa has already left, and you have to live here, – Nina Viktorovna snapped. – Everything needs to be repainted. And new furniture. Throw out these Soviet wardrobes right away.
Yana didn’t argue, although she liked these old cabinets and chests of drawers with carved details. They had a soul, a history, unlike the typical IKEA that her mother-in-law was proud of.
The following weekend, Kirill brought his older sister Lyudmila with her husband Sasha and children home. He warned Yana at the last moment:
– I told Lyuda that we now have a house outside the city. She was so happy! Her children have been asking to go out into nature for a long time.
“We have it,” Yana noted again, but again remained silent. After all, the house is really big, there’s enough space for everyone. And the children will have fun playing in the garden.
Then came Kirill’s aunt, Vera Ivanovna, a woman with a commanding voice and a habit of rearranging everything “for convenience.” She brought with her a tape measure and a notebook, where she wrote down something while measuring the rooms.
“What are you doing?” Yana couldn’t resist.
“Well, I’m just figuring it out,” Vera Ivanovna answered evasively. “We need to know what kind of wardrobe will fit in here, what kind of sofa.”
“Why do you need to know this?” Yana was surprised.
———————————————————-
– Of course! Kiryusha said that we would all come here to relax in the summer. But I don’t like surprises. I prefer to plan everything.
Yana found her husband, who was making something on the veranda.
– Kirill, did you tell your aunt that she will live here in the summer?
– Not so literally, – Kirill looked slightly embarrassed. – He just mentioned that the house is big, there’s enough room for everyone. You don’t mind if some of your relatives come over sometimes, do you? There are five rooms here, Yanochka!
Yana gave in again. After all, it was only for the summer, for the weekends. The rest of the time the house would be empty. Why not share it with her husband’s family?
But a month later the situation got out of control. Every weekend the house was filled with Kirill’s relatives. They brought things, left them, as if marking their territory. At first, these were small things – towels, mugs, books. Then pillows, blankets, garden tools appeared.
The husband’s relatives discussed what and where to put, what furniture to buy, what walls to repaint. Yana was asked for appearance’s sake, but no one was interested in her opinion.
“Or maybe we should remove this wall altogether?” Lyudmila suggested one day. “It will be more spacious.”
“No,” Yana said firmly. “This is a load-bearing wall. You can’t touch it.”
– Well, it can be strengthened, – objected Sasha, Lyudmila’s husband. – I consulted with the guys at work, they said it’s easy to do.
“I don’t want to demolish anything,” Yana repeated. “The house is already good.”
– Yanochka, don’t be stubborn, – Nina Viktorovna intervened. – We want to do better. For everyone.
And each time Kirill took his family’s side. First delicately, then more and more insistently.
– Yana, why are you so uncooperative? – he would ask in the evenings when they were alone. – These are small things. So what if I repainted a wall or hung a shelf? Why offend my family?
One Saturday, when the house was again filled with the voices of her husband’s relatives, Yana went into the kitchen for tea and overheard a conversation.
“We definitely need to make a partition here,” Nina Viktorovna said, pointing to something on the plan of the house that they had already managed to draw. “Well, here, Lyuda and I will settle down, and Sashka will go to the far room, he needs silence.”
“And you can make a summer kitchen out of the shed,” Vera Ivanovna added. “There’s a bathhouse and a swimming pool nearby. It’ll be great!”
“We just need to uproot this old cherry orchard,” Kirill’s cousin Dima noted. “It’s no use, it just takes up space. A lawn and a barbecue would be better.”
Yana leaned against the wall in the hallway, feeling the ground slipping away from under her feet. The cherry orchard. The same one that her grandfather planted after the war. Where every tree had its own name. Where Yana hid as a child, picking berries and reading books in the shade of the trees.
– And what does Yana think about this? – Sasha suddenly asked. – After all, formally the house is hers.
– What about Yana, – Nina Viktorovna waved it off. – Kirill will convince her. He always knows how to persuade her.
“And then, they’re a family,” added Lyudmila. “That means the house is shared. Kirill has the same right to decide as she does.”
Kirill, who had been listening silently all this time, finally spoke up:
– Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her. Yana will understand. She always agrees in the end.
Yana stepped back from the door silently. Cold rage was spreading inside her. The house where she spent her childhood. The house that her grandfather had cherished all his life and bequeathed to her because he knew she would preserve his soul. And now some strangers were deciding what to tear down and what to rebuild.
Yana returned to the veranda, where the rest of Kirill’s relatives were sitting. She smiled and kept up the conversation, but inside she already knew what she had to do.
When the company moved to the kitchen, Vera Ivanovna entered the house:
– Yanochka, we discussed it and decided that we need to do some remodeling. What do you think about such a remodeling?
Yana smiled her friendliest smile:
– Yeah, that’s a good idea.
But deep down, she had already made a decision that would turn this whole story upside down.
For the rest of the day, Yana was unusually silent. Her husband’s relatives continued to make plans, divide the rooms, and discuss future renovations. Kirill occasionally cast worried glances at his wife, but Yana only smiled and nodded.
When everyone finally left, Yana said to her husband:
– I’ll stay here until tomorrow. I want to have some peace and quiet.
– Alone? – Kirill was surprised. – Maybe I should stay too?
– No, you have to go to work tomorrow. And I have the day off, – Yana kissed her husband on the cheek. – Go. I’ll come tomorrow evening.
As soon as Kirill’s car disappeared around the corner, Yana took out her phone and opened a search engine. First, she found the contacts of the nearest lock installation service. Then, a company that installs video surveillance systems.
“Good afternoon,” Yana said when someone answered on the other end. “I need to change the locks urgently. This evening. Is that possible?”
The master arrived two hours later, an elderly man with an attentive gaze.
“Are we going to change all the locks?” asked the specialist, examining the front door.
– That’s it, – Yana nodded. – And on the gate too. And preferably a more complicated system.
By nine o’clock in the evening the work was finished. The new locks gleamed in the rays of the setting sun. Yana put the keys in her pocket and felt a strange relief. For the first time in a long time the house was once again hers alone. She also made arrangements with a video surveillance company to install cameras the following day.
In the morning, Yana returned to the city apartment. Kirill had already left for work, leaving a note on the table: “I hope you had a good rest. Mom asked when she could bring wallpaper samples for the back room.”
Yana grinned. Nina Viktorovna wasted no time. But now the rules of the game had changed.
In the evening, when Kirill returned from work, Yana was just setting the table.
– Kirill, I’m talking about the house, – Yana began, setting out the plates. – It will be impossible to come there in the near future. I ordered repairs.
– Renovation? – the husband raised his eyebrows in surprise. – But we haven’t decided anything specific. Mom was thinking…
“I’ve decided,” Yana interrupted calmly. “First, we need to strengthen the foundation and put the roof in order. Without this, any cosmetic repairs are pointless.
– But why didn’t you discuss this with me? With us? – Kirill looked confused.
— Did your family discuss it with me when they were planning to remove the cherry orchard and build a swimming pool?
Kirill fell silent, clearly not knowing what to answer.
“The house is closed for renovations for now,” Yana added. “I think for two or three months.”
“Mom wanted to come by tomorrow to show me the curtain catalogues,” Kirill said uncertainly.
“Tell her that this is not relevant now,” Yana put the salad on the table. “Will you have dinner?”
Two days later, Yana’s phone started to fill with calls. First from her mother-in-law, then from Lyudmila, then from Vera Ivanovna. Yana politely explained the same thing to everyone – the house was being renovated, there was no point in coming yet. In the evening, Kirill called.
“My mother and I drove up to the house,” the husband’s voice sounded tense. “The gate was locked, the keys didn’t fit. What’s going on?”
“I told you, the house is being renovated,” Yana answered calmly. “I changed the locks for safety. All the electrics are dismantled there now.”
“But why didn’t you give us new keys?” Kirill’s voice sounded indignant.
– Don’t worry, I have everything under control. It’s just different now.
– What do you mean “differently”? – the husband persisted. – Mom is upset, she took the day off specifically to…
– Kirill, – Yana interrupted him. – I said – the house is closed. Go back to the city.
A thunderstorm broke out in the evening. Not a meteorological one, but a family one. Kirill flew into the apartment, slamming the door.
“Can you explain what’s going on?” the husband began from the doorway. “Why are you acting so strange? Why are you hiding your plans from us?”
– From us? – Yana raised an eyebrow. – Or from you and your family?
– Oh, come on, Yana! You know what I mean! My family just wanted to help with the house!
— Help? — Yana grinned. — They wanted to rebuild it for themselves. Uproot the garden my grandfather planted. Tear down the walls. Build a swimming pool. And all this without asking a single question about what I wanted.
“You’re exaggerating,” Kirill shook his head. “They were just suggesting ideas. And besides, this is a common home. I’m your husband, I have a say, too.”
– I see, – Yana crossed her arms over her chest. – And when you decided that Nina Viktorovna and Lyudmila would live in one room, and Sasha in the far one, were you also just “offering ideas”?
Kirill froze. It was clear from his face that he didn’t expect Yana to know about this conversation.
“Were you eavesdropping?” the husband tried to go on the offensive.
– No, I just overheard you dividing my house as if I didn’t exist.
Yana went into the room and returned with her phone.
– Look, – Yana showed the screen to her husband. – Your aunt and mother are already discussing what equipment to buy for the summer kitchen. Your sister is choosing the color of the tiles for the bathroom. Your cousin found a company that will cut down the trees in the garden. And all this – without a single word to me.
Kirill looked at the photographs of the correspondence with a confused look.
– Where did you get this?
— From your family chat, where, of course, I was not added, — Yana shook her head. — Your sister accidentally left her phone on the table when she went out. I saw the notifications and took a photo.
– But this is just talk, Yana, – Kirill tried to speak convincingly. – No one has decided anything definitively. The family was simply inspired by the idea of a summer vacation outside the city.
– You wanted a swimming pool? – Yana looked straight into her husband’s eyes. – Great. Only you will build it for yourself – in another place.
– Yana, you don’t understand…
“No, you don’t understand,” Yana interrupted him quietly but firmly. “This house belongs to me. I spent my childhood in it. My grandfather lived in it. And I won’t allow it to be turned into an entertainment center for your relatives.”
– But we are a family! – Kirill exclaimed. – My mother, my sister – they are your family now too!
“Family respects each other’s boundaries,” Yana replied. “And your relatives acted behind my back. And you indulged them.”
Kirill looked confused. He clearly hadn’t expected such a rebuff from his wife, who usually compromised.
“Listen,” the husband finally said in a conciliatory tone. “I admit, they got a little carried away. I didn’t know they’d get so angry. Let’s just talk it over again, together. You tell us what you want, we’ll find a compromise…”
“No, Kirill,” Yana shook her head. “The compromises are over. I’ve already decided and put an end to it – literally, with locks and alarms.”
– Alarm? – Kirill was surprised.
– Yes, I installed a video surveillance system with motion sensors. Now I will know who comes to the house and when.
– Are you serious? – Kirill looked at his wife as if he was seeing her for the first time. – You don’t trust me that much?
“It’s not about trust,” Yana replied. “It’s about respect for my wishes and my property. Which I haven’t seen from you or your family.”
The next day, Yana found her phone literally ringing off the hook. Her mother-in-law, Lyudmila, Vera Ivanovna — everyone wanted to know what had happened, why Yana had suddenly become so “unreasonable,” why she was “opposing her family.”
“Have you turned your entire family against me?” Yana asked her husband in the evening.
“I just told you what happened,” Kirill shrugged. “They’re worried.”
“They’re worried that they’ve lost their free dacha,” Yana noted.
“Don’t say that,” Kirill was indignant. “They sincerely wanted to help!”
“Okay,” Yana nodded. “Let’s clear this up once and for all. The house belongs to me. I appreciate your care and support, but I make all the decisions about the house. If your relatives want to come visit, they are welcome, but only by invitation. No unauthorized visits, no restructuring, no planning behind my back.
– What about me? – Kirill asked, offended. – Should I also ask you for permission to come?
– No, Kirill, – Yana sighed. – You are my husband. I will give you the keys. But only you. And on the condition that you respect my boundaries and my decisions.
The week was nerve-wracking. The mother-in-law called every day, sometimes threatening, sometimes appealing to Yana’s conscience. Lyudmila wrote a long message about how selfish Yana was and how she had disappointed the whole family. Even Sasha called, trying to explain “like a man” that Yana was wrong.
Kirill rushed between his wife and his family, sometimes taking Yana’s side, sometimes trying to convince her to at least give in a little.
“Just give Mom the keys,” he begged. “She promises not to touch anything, just to come by sometimes for some fresh air.”
“No,” Yana answered firmly.
“But why are you so stubborn?” Kirill didn’t understand.
“Because this is my home,” Yana repeated every time.
A month later, the passions died down a bit. The mother-in-law stopped calling every day. Lyudmila went silent altogether. Yana kept her promise and gave Kirill the keys to the new castle. Sometimes they went to the house together on weekends. Sometimes Yana went alone when she wanted to be in silence.
By midsummer, the cherries in the garden had ripened. Yana collected the first harvest and made jam – according to her grandfather’s recipe, with the addition of almonds. Kirill, having tried it, could not hide his admiration.
“I’ve never eaten anything tastier,” the husband admitted. “Now I understand why you value this garden so much.”
Yana smiled. Perhaps all is not lost yet.
In August they celebrated Kirill’s birthday. Yana suggested throwing a party at home.
“We can invite your family,” she said. “I think it’s time to mend fences.”
– Are you serious? – Kirill was delighted. – Mom will be happy!
“Only on one condition,” Yana added. “No talk of rebuilding the house, swimming pools, or cutting down the garden. It’s just a family holiday, nothing more.”
Kirill agreed. He called his mother, sister, aunt – everyone happily accepted the invitation.
On the day of the celebration, Yana met the guests at the gate. There were already snacks, soft drinks, and a large cake on the table in the garden. Garlands were hung between the trees.
Nina Viktorovna approached Yana with a strained smile:
– Thank you for the invitation. It’s very… kind of you.
“I’m glad you came,” Yana answered sincerely. “Please come in.”
Gradually the atmosphere became less tense. Kirill’s relatives, albeit cautiously, joined in the general conversation, joked, congratulated the birthday boy. After dinner, Yana suggested that everyone take a walk in the garden.
“The cherry trees are especially good this year,” she said, pointing to the trees covered with dark red berries. “Grandpa would have liked them.”
Nina Viktorovna silently looked at the garden, which she had recently planned to uproot. Then she suddenly said:
— It’s beautiful here. Very… peaceful.
“Thank you,” Yana nodded. “This is a special place for me. Full of memories.”
Towards evening, when the guests were leaving, Nina Viktorovna lingered at the gate.
“You know, Yana,” the mother-in-law began unusually softly. “I was probably wrong. We all… got carried away. We didn’t think about your feelings.
Yana looked at her mother-in-law in surprise – she definitely didn’t expect such a confession.
“I understand that a house is your memory, your history,” Nina Viktorovna continued. “And I respect that. Truly.”
“Thank you,” was all Yana could answer.
When the last car disappeared around the corner, Kirill hugged his wife:
– You see, everything is getting better. Mom even apologized. In her own way, of course, but for her it was a big step.
“Yes,” Yana agreed. “I think everything will be different now.”
And she was right. Relations gradually improved. Kirill’s relatives no longer tried to seize the house, but came only by invitation. No one started talking about rebuilding or cutting down the garden.
And a year later, when Yana and Kirill had a daughter, they named her Victoria among their Cherry – in honor of their grandfather’s garden, which withstood all the storms and continued to generously gift the family with sweet berries every year.
“You know,” Kirill said one day, watching Yana rock her daughter in her arms in the shade of the cherry trees, “I’m glad you set boundaries back then. I can’t imagine what would have happened if we had actually cut down that garden.”
Yana smiled. Sometimes you just need to defend what’s dear to you. Even if it means changing all the locks.
