
“Vaccinate the apartment. My son has decided that our family will live here from now on,” Galina Petrovna announced, crossing the threshold with the air of someone coming to collect the keys to her own home.
Alyona slowly set her cup on the kitchen counter and looked first at her mother-in-law, then at Maksym. Her husband stood behind his mother, holding a briefcase, avoiding her gaze. It was scorching July outside; the balcony door was ajar, and the hot air and the smell of burning asphalt wafted in from the courtyard.
“Say it again,” Alona said calmly. “But without drama. Short and concise.”
Galina Petrovna snorted.
“What can I say? Roman and the kids are homeless. You have a three-bedroom apartment. You don’t need all this space. You and Maksym will stay with me, while Roman and the kids move in.”
“Maksym,” Alona said, turning to her husband. “Did she decide all this, or have you already shared my apartment without me?”
Maksym ran a hand over the back of his neck.
“Alon, don’t be too aggressive right away. The situation is difficult. The Roma woman is divorced, and the children are small. Mom’s right, we can help her.”
“Can we?” Alona tilted her head slightly. “Interesting word. What do you have in this apartment besides a toothbrush, a laptop, and the habit of remaining silent when your mother insults me?”
Galina Petrovna blushed.