The door swung open before Daryna could turn the key. A heavyset man in acid-green swim trunks covered with enormous pineapples stood in the doorway, chewing a greasy meat-filled cheburek. Juice ran down his chin. He blinked at them.
“Kolya? Daryna? What wind blew you here? ”
Behind Daryna, her mother-in-law made a strangled sound.
Nina Vasylivna shoved her aside, elbow first, and hissed at the man. “Mykyta, you parasite! Didn’t I write to you in plain Ukrainian? You were supposed to leave.
Now! ”
Mykyta swallowed a mouthful of dough and meat, shrugged, and said, “Where are we supposed to go, Ma? Yana’s blood pressure has been jumping all morning. Tickets to Poltava aren’t until next week.
We can’t sleep under a fence. Come in, there’s enough room. I’ll put the foldout bed on the balcony. ”
Daryna set her suitcase down slowly.
A year ago, she and Mykola had bought this one-bedroom apartment by the sea. Her parents had put up a third of the price so their daughter would always have a place to breathe. Daryna and Mykola spent last summer here, working remotely, drinking coffee on the balcony every morning. In the winter they locked up and went back to the capital.
The spare keys stayed with Nina Vasylivna, who had promised to check the place for one week. Now they had come back for the summer. Nina had begged to ride along, and Mykola caved. The plan was simple: two weeks of sea air for his mother, then Daryna’s parents would arrive.
But nothing about this homecoming was going to plan. Daryna walked past Mykyta into the apartment. The smell hit first: stale oil, old cigarette smoke, unwashed bodies. The parquet they had chosen with such care was covered in sand and crumbs.
A stretched swimsuit hung drying on the back of a designer chair. A mountain of dirty dishes rose from the glass coffee table, topped with an ashtray stuffed with butts. From the bathroom came Yana, Mykola’s younger sister, her face smeared with thick cream and Daryna’s favorite towel wrapped crookedly around her head. “Oh, you’re early,” Yana said, slapping wet footprints across the parquet.
“We thought you’d come in the evening. Mykyta, did you start defrosting the chicken? ”
Nina grabbed her head. “Yanochka, what are you doing?
I told you to be gone by the time they arrived. I gave you the keys so you could water the flowers! ”
“Water the flowers? ” Mykola’s voice rose.
“There have never been flowers in this apartment. ”
Daryna turned to him. “Keys? ” Her whisper was icy.
“So your mother still has a spare set. And she’s handing it out to whoever wants in. ”
Mykola went pale. “I never took the keys back after winter.
I thought—”
“You thought it was fine,” Daryna finished. She went into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. Her expensive Chinese tea and special coffee were gone. The shelves were lined with cheap instant noodles and dubious canned food.
“Yana,” Daryna said, flat as metal, “whose money paid for this? For six months? ”
Yana shrugged and dropped onto the Italian sofa. “Yours, of course.
We’re in a difficult financial situation. Mykyta is looking for himself, and I’m his muse. I can’t work. ”
Mykola’s hands were shaking.
“Our money? ”
Mykyta wiped his greasy hands on his pineapple trunks. “Hey, brother-in-law, don’t shout. We’re not living large.
If not for Mother, we’d be on the street. ”
“Which mother? ” Daryna asked, even quieter. Yana smiled, triumphant.
“Our mother, who cares about her own daughter, unlike some greedy Kyivans. You send her fifteen thousand hryvnias every month for medicine. Well, she passes it to us so we don’t starve while you let your precious square meters sit empty. ”
The room fell silent.
Seagulls cried outside. Daryna fixed her eyes on Nina Vasylivna. The woman was trying to melt into the wallpaper, but her loud dress covered in red poppies gave her away. “Mom,” Mykola said, his throat tight, “I sent you that money.
I skipped lunches. I took food in containers. Daryna gave you her annual bonus. You cried on the phone about your joints.
”
“Kolia, son,” Nina wailed, wringing her hands, “your sister is my blood too. She’s struggling. I wanted the best for all of you. ”
Daryna crossed to the window and threw it open.
The salt wind poured in. “Here is the picture,” she said. “My husband’s family has turned our apartment into a squat, and my mother-in-law has been draining his bank account to support them. You have thirty minutes.
Pack everything. Take your swimsuits off my chairs. And leave. ”
Yana jumped up.
“Excuse me? This is my brother’s apartment. I have every legal and moral right to stay as long as I want. ”
“This apartment was bought during the marriage,” Daryna said.
“A third of it belongs to my parents. So I decide who stays. Mykola, are you going to help? ”
He was already moving.
“Pack your things, Yana. Now. ”
Mykyta stepped forward, chest puffed. “We have no money, no tickets, no hotel.
You can’t just throw us out. We’ve been living here. There’s a law—”
“One call to 102,” Mykola said, “and they take you out in handcuffs for illegal entry. Your pineapple trunks can go to the station as evidence.
Move. ”
Nina switched masks. She became the wise old mother, gentle and reasonable. “Darynochka,” she cooed, “let’s not fight.
We’re family. The children will stay— the sea is what they need. Mykola and Mykyta can sleep in the kitchen. We’ll take the big bed.
And your parents can come next year. It’s only fair. ”
Mykyta nodded eagerly. “Mother is right.
I’m in the semifinal of a tournament with a neighbor from the next entrance. I can’t leave now. ”
Yana crossed her legs, victorious. “Besides, we have three kilograms of marinated meat in the fridge.
”
Daryna let the silence stretch. “Nina Vasylivna,” she said, in a controlled, deliberate voice, “since I’m like a daughter to you, explain why your daughter refuses to let my parents into my home. Why your relatives have lived here half a year, eaten at my expense, and made my life a landfill. ”
She didn’t wait for the lie.
She ripped a heavy black construction bag from the roll and threw it at Yana. “Thirty minutes. Or everything goes out the window. ”
What followed was not an argument.
It was an eviction. Mykola grabbed Mykyta by the shoulder strap of his pineapple trunks and shoved him toward the hallway. “Get your things. Now.
”
Daryna swept through the rooms like a force of nature. She stuffed T-shirts, cheap slippers, shampoo bottles, tangled chargers, a bitten sausage, and a lone sock into the black bag. Yana tried to save her belongings, but Mykola blocked her path. “My Dyson!
” Yana screamed. “That’s an original Dyson! ”
“Bought with money you stole from me,” Mykola said, yanking the hair dryer from her hand and tossing it into her suitcase. “Take it and get out.
”
Nina tried her last move. She fell onto a kitchen chair, clutched her chest, and howled, “I’m dying! My son is murdering his mother over some square meters! ”
Daryna looked at her without pity.
“Save your voice, Nina Vasylivna. You’ll need it to tell the taxi driver where to put the bags. ”
“What taxi? ” Nina snapped, instantly healthy.
“We came to visit you! ”
“You came to live in our apartment. But your generous support for your daughter proves you’re a rich woman. ” Daryna tossed another item into the bag.
“Rent them a hotel. Buy yourself tickets. Your joints look fine. ”
Nina’s face turned into a mask of naked hatred.
“You viper! You turned my son against me! He was a soft, obedient boy! ”
“I was soft,” Mykola said, appearing behind her, “but now I can count.
You used my love for you to steal from our family for six months. ”
The final evacuation happened at the door. Mykola carried black bags and suitcases into the common hallway. Mykyta wrestled with a giant inflatable flamingo that scraped and squealed against the doorframe.
Yana dragged her suitcase and wept, but her brother stood immovable, arms crossed. When the last bag was out, Yana reached into her pocket, pulled out the spare keys, and threw them onto the glass table. “Choke on your square meters! ” she spat.
“Forget you have a family! ”
“Best wishes,” Daryna said, and closed the heavy door in their faces. Two turns of the lock sounded like victory. Daryna leaned against the door.
The apartment still stank of grease and strangers. Hours of cleaning lay ahead. But the space was theirs again. Mykola stood in the middle of the ransacked room, staring at his hands.
The woman who had raised him had used him like an ATM. It hurt. But it also freed him. “Tomorrow,” Daryna said, “we change the locks.
We call a cleaning company. We throw out all the textiles. And I’m calling my parents to tell them their room is ready. ”
Mykola nodded, and a small genuine smile crossed his face.
They hugged in the middle of the ruined living room. They had not given in. They had not paid for other people’s greed. That evening, with every window open and the sea wind driving out the last traces of the invasion, Daryna and Mykola sat on the balcony.
They had scrubbed the chairs clean, and they drank strong tea from the only cups that had survived. The sun set over the water, turning the horizon gold and purple. Mykola’s phone buzzed. A long message from his mother.
“Kolya, son, we barely found a cheap hostel outside the city. Bedbugs. Dirty beds. Yana is sick.
Mykyta is depressed. We have no money left for food. Can you send seven or eight thousand for a room? You wouldn’t leave your poor mother—”
He read it to the end, put the phone face-down on the table, and took a slow sip of tea.
The holiday was just beginning.
