Shameless Cheek: “So, Natasha, tell me honestly,” whined Nick, “what universal difference does it make, who we rent the house to? Friends, strangers—money’s the same!” Natasha finished hanging the laundry. He could help, instead of moaning. “Nicky, my dear,” she replied, “the difference is you can never squeeze money out of family.” “You’re talking about Jamie? That’s not fair—he’s my brother! He’ll pay, I guarantee it. Not even asking a discount! He’ll rent for the whole summer.” “It’s a house by the seaside. I’ll find tenants in five minutes.” “Why must it be strangers?” “With strangers: contract, deposit, no pay—they’re out. With family, it’s ‘Oh Natasha, you understand, we’ve got kids,’ or ‘we’ll pay later,’ or ‘we’ve broken your telly, but you wouldn’t charge us, right?’ Been there, seen that.” The house had come down from Natasha’s parents, who also rented it. She kept the rule: no family, no friends. She’d seen how mum and dad were ‘done’ by their own. “But how did it end?” “With family staying for free and not even apologising! Listen, Nick, the house is business—not a free holiday camp for your lot.” Jamie’s decided his wife and three kids need three months by the sea—nice when business is slow. Natasha was certain he didn’t intend to pay. “He’s not asking for charity!” Nick insisted. “He’ll pay.” They all promise at first. “We always have a queue of proper tenants, Nick. No friends, no family. Business is business.” Nick tried another tack: “Alright. You don’t trust Jamie. But you trust me?” Natasha paused. “Of course. So what?” “I’ll pay the rent myself if Jamie tries to stiff us.” Weak. “Genius. And pay me from our joint savings?” “Well… no, I’ll find a second job—nights, weekends—all the money to you. Not ours, just yours. Deal?” Natasha didn’t realise Nick cared this much. Maybe she should trust him… “You could talk the hind legs off a donkey. Fine—it’s your responsibility.” There was time until summer—Natasha tried to believe in Nick. June began, and so did the problems. Nick called Jamie every three days for the first month’s rent; always, always, excuses. “Yeah, all fine, Nick! Just waiting for one big client to pay me. End of the month, for sure.” June ended. No money. Natasha waited, stayed silent. Nick had asked her to trust him. But after yet more phone calls: “So? Has he paid?” “The big client’s not paid Jamie yet. As soon as he does…” Same excuse, month in, month out. “This is exactly what I told you. Family always has a reason not to pay.” “It’s just coincidence! Just wait…” “Till September? Till their three cases are packed and they sail off with a cheery wave and nothing paid?” “You’re not losing out, love; I’ll get a side job.” “You? Now?” Nick wilted. “Give him a couple more weeks. If not… I’ll pay you.” “You insisted!” A chill settled in the house. July. The heat was stifling. Natasha caught Nick browsing job adverts, never dialling. “Nick, it’s the thirtieth. Two-thirds of summer, zero rent.” “He’ll pay. He said he’d make it good.” “I’ve stopped believing. You vouched for him. Now it’s your turn to pay. Where’s your extra job?” Evidently, Nick didn’t fancy actually keeping his promise. “I’ll find something. Just nothing’s right. I mean, my back’s not up to heavy lifting, is it?” “Maybe tell your brother to shift bags then. You promised. Either get a job now, or I ring Jamie myself and tell him: pay half by Friday or we evict you—legally.” Nick paled. “No, don’t! What will family say, if you sue my brother?” Jamie won’t pay, Nick won’t work, and the court option horrifies him—so now it’s all Natasha’s fault. “You care so much about me, your husband! You’d rather I work two jobs than just let your wife ‘win’.” “You insisted!” “But I didn’t think Jamie’d shaft us!” “But I did,” said Natasha. “Seen it a dozen times. You didn’t listen.” “Alright! But you, Natasha—forcing me to work overtime proves you don’t love me. Money over my health! What if I have a heart attack?” “I’m not forcing you. Just asking you to keep YOUR word.” “Fine! I’ll get a job, I’ll pay Jamie’s rent. Happy now?” So Nick became an evening delivery driver and glowered at Natasha every night. “You… it’s all because of you.” “Because of me?” “Yeah!” “Maybe now you’ll understand what it means to be Mr Nice Guy at my expense.” Natasha hoped Jamie would have a change of heart—but then he rang her. “Natasha, I’ve got a problem—car’s acting up, had to spend your rent money on repairs… I’ll pay you… at some point…” Natasha hung up. Nick saw her face. “Alright, I was wrong to trust him. But you—you don’t let me make mistakes! Instead of support you just push me harder…” “So I should just smile and tell you: ‘Fine, Nick, your family can summer for free, I’ll live’? You insisted you’d pay if he didn’t!” “I did! But didn’t expect you to agree so easily that I should run myself ragged.” “And your brother—he thinks about you?” “He’s not bad, just—” “Marvellous. He gets a freebie and you the blame, and I’m the villain?” Nick was silent. A rocky road ahead for their marriage.

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 10 minViews 1

Boundless Cheek

Come on, Sarah, just be honest Simon moaned, whats the real, cosmic difference who we let the cottage out to? Family or strangers? Moneys money.

Sarah finished pegging the washing on the line. Would be nice if he put as much effort into helping as he did whining.

Simon, love, she replied, the difference is, youll never actually get the money from family.

You mean Tom? he said, face screwing up. Toms my brother! Hell pay, I swear to you. He hasnt even asked for a discount. He wants the place at full price, all summer. Saves us finding other people, doesnt it?

Si, its a seaside cottage. I can get tenants in five minutes.

Explain to me why you’re dead set on renting to strangers?

With strangers its simple: contract, deposit, if they dont pay, you give them notice and thats that. With family its, Oh, Sarah, you know weve got the kidsbear with us. Can we pay a bit later, just waiting for something to clear! Or, Sorry, the tellys smashed, but you wouldnt charge us for that, would you? Ive seen it all before, Simon. You dont know how it ends.

Sarah inherited the cottage from her parents, who also rented it out. They lived in Portsmouth, while the beach cottage made a neat little top-up to their income. Sarah kept up the traditionbut with one ironclad rule: no friends or family. Shed seen too many of Mum and Dads mates taking the mick.

And how did it end? her husband asked.

With family not paying and not even apologising. As if letting them stay for free is no hardship. Sorry, but a holiday let is a business, not a free B&B for your relatives.

Tom had recently decided his wife and three kids would benefit from three months by the seasidedoctors orders, apparently. Summer was always slow at work for him, so why not enjoy life a bit? Sarah knew perfectly well that Tom had no intention of actually paying for the cottage.

But Toms not asking to stay for free, Simon insisted. Hell pay. Honestly.

They all promise to pay, at first.

Why bother with this at all? Theres always a waiting list. People queue up to pay the full market rent. They come, sign a contract, I sleep easy. No. No family, no friends. Let business be business.

Sarahs logic was tough to argue with. But Simon had a plan.

Okay. So you dont trust Tom. But you trust me, right?

Sarah waited.

Of course. So?

If Tom mucks us around, Ill pay you the rent myself, Simon blurted. Hero. No less.

Only, not much of an argument.

Brilliant planout of our joint account, you mean?

Wellif you put it like thatbut Ill take on some extra work. Evenings, weekendsevery penny will go to you. Itll be your money, not ours. Deal?

Sarah hadnt realised Simon cared so much. Maybe, if he had that much faith in his brother, she ought to give him a chance too

You could talk anyone into anything, she sighed. Fine, the responsibilitys yours. Okay.

Summer was still a fair way off. Enough time for Sarah to relax and maybe even believe Simon knew best.

June rolled in, with hassle straight away. Simon rang Tom every few days, gently prodding about paying at least a months rent upfront. Toms responses were predictably encouraging.

Yeah, Si, all good! The money? Just waiting on a big client to pay upshould be sorted by end of the month. As soon as it comes in, youll have it. Dont worry!

June ended.

Still no cash.

Sarah left it for a month, as promised. No nagging, no arguing. Simon had asked for a chanceand she gave him one. But after overhearing yet another reassuring call, she had to ask, Well? He paid yet?

The client still hasnt sent over the payment. But as soon as he does, Tom says hell pay us straightaway!

Same old excuse, word for word, a month on.

She bit back a sarcastic anyone surprised?

This is what I meant, said Sarah. Family always have some crucial reason why they cant pay on time.

Sarah, its just a bit of rotten luck! Simon spluttered. Toms not doing it on purpose! Its just how it happened. Honestly, itll all work out. We just need to give him a chance.

Oh right, well wait until September when they pack up their bags, say, Thanks for the lovely holiday, catch you later! and stroll off?

Sarah, at the end of the day, youre not losing out. I said Ill take on extra work.

You? Seriously? Youd start tonight?

Simon deflated at once.

Just give him another couple of weeks. If nothing by then, Ill pay you myselfif it matters that much.

I never asked you to take this on. You were desperate to prove me wrong about your saintly brother. Well, heres your chance!

After that, things soured at home. Simon was noticeably glum around her.

July arrived with an unbearable heatwave. Sarah caught Simon trawling job listings online, but he never bothered calling about any of them.

Si, you know todays the thirtieth? Thats two thirds of summer gone. We havent had a penny of rent, she reminded him.

Still no luck getting hold of the moneybut

As soon as he can, of course.

Hell pay the lot back! He promised well be the first thing he sorts out when hes been paidhell even add something extra to make up for it.

I dont believe him anymore. You said, Ill pay you. So wheres this job?

It had become clear Simon had lost all enthusiasm for the side hustle hed promised. So easy to pledge, so hard to actually graft in the evenings. Much easier to live on quick words.

Ill find something. But all the adverts are rubbishits not as if I can start shifting boxes, with my back.

Youd do better sending your brother to do the heavy lifting! You promised me. So, either you get working or Ill phone Tom myself, and Ill tell him if I dont have at least half the money by Friday, Ill see them out by law and chase the rest through the courts.

Simon went pale.

Dont ring Tom! Courts? What will Mum think? Ill never hear the end of itTook my brother to court, Sarah, nobody would get it.

Tom wouldnt pay. Simon wouldnt step up to his word, and he didnt want legal trouble either. So, upon no better plan, he tried to make Sarah the villain.

Nice, honestly. Some wife you are, he muttered, You dont care that I might have to work all hours just to pay you back. All you care about is that bloody money.

I didnt force your hand, Simon! You insisted!

How was I to know Tom would do this?

Well, I knew, Sarah replied. I knew because Id watched it happen time and again before. You just didnt listen.

Fine! I get it! Simon said, now wallowing in self-pity. But you know what, Sarah? Making me pay for his mistakes shows you dont care about me at all. Honestly, youd rather see me knackered from working two jobs than lose out on the rent. Dont care if it gives me a heart attack or worse.

Im not forcing you. Im holding you to the deal younot me!suggested.

Fine! Simon shouted. Ill get an extra job. Ill pay you for Tom. Anything for your precious money! And off he went.

He failed at his own challenge, but Sarah still got her pointthe promise had to be honoured. So Simon worked evenings as a courier, and after every shift, he gave Sarah a look full of blame.

This is your fault he flung at her once.

My fault?

Yes!

Maybe now youll understand, Sarah said quietly. Its easy to play the hero with other peoples money. When youre paying for your brother yourself, lets see if you learn something.

She still hoped, deep down, that Tom would remember his debt and pay up in the end. And, almost as if hed read her mind, Tom actually rangher, not Simon.

Surely, at last, he was going to send the money?

Sarah, got a favour to ask

Tom, Im too busy for favours. You still owe us Julys rent and August is due. Its no longer my problemits Simons. He vouched for you.

Yeah, Si told me! Poor thing. But listenits just, the car broke down while weve been here and fixing its wiped us out. I need petrol money to get the family back, you see, so Ill, um, sort the rent when I can

Exactly as expected.

Sarah hung up.

Simon could read the answer from her face straight away.

Alright, he admitted. I was wrong to trust him that much. But you you dont even give me room for mistakes! Instead of supporting me, you just push me further.

So should I have smiled and said, Never mind, Si, they can have a free holiday and Ill pick up the pieces? You insisted on paying.

I did! he snapped. Didnt know youd be so quick to have me work myself into the ground, though. Do you ever think about me?

Does your brother ever think about you?

Hes not a bad bloke, just landed us in it, is all

Excellent. So hes a good lad for short-changing us and shifting the burden onto you, but Im the villain for sticking up for myself?

Simon went quiet.

It seemed a rough patch was on the cards for their marriage.

There are times when sticking to your principles feels lonely, especially among those who expect unconditional generosity. But Sarah knew that running a business meant standing her ground, even if she might appear hard-hearted. The lesson? Kindness is never about letting people take advantagereal care is knowing when to draw the line, even with those closest to you.

A Mother’s Heart Stan sat at his usual spot at the kitchen table, a deep bowl of his mum’s signature beetroot soup in front of him—rich, aromatic, with that familiar tang. Each spoonful was a journey: no London bistro, no Michelin-starred restaurant, no trendy eatery, not even the most extravagant French oysters or Japanese wagyu, could ever compare to this. In every bite, he tasted not just flavour but warmth, care, and the nostalgia of childhood. As he ate, his mother, Mary, joined him—cup of tea in hand, worry etched on her face. “When do you have to leave, Stan?” she asked, anxious. “Tomorrow morning,” he replied, smiling. “My car’s out, so I’ll go with a mate.” A heavy silence fell as Mary, pausing, gripped the edge of the table tightly. Her voice, barely above a whisper, voiced her worry: “With a mate? Please, Stan, don’t go with him. Order a taxi instead.” He tried to reassure her—his friend was a careful driver, good car, even a lucky number plate. But as she clung to his hand, her chill reaching into his warmth, he promised to call as soon as he arrived. That night, sleep evaded both. When morning came, Stan woke late—his phone dead, his mate gone, and over twenty missed calls from his mum. Rushing to her house, breathless, he found her pale, eyes red from crying, collapsed in relief as the news reported a terrible accident—one his friend had been in. Mary had recognised the car. In her mind, she had already lost her son. The ambulance came. They spent anxious hours in hospital together, Stan holding his mother’s trembling hand, guilt and love colliding in his chest. Mary finally confessed her lifelong fear of losing Stan—her independent, headstrong boy who always insisted on tying his own shoelaces, packing his own schoolbag, running ahead despite her warnings. He promised never to dismiss her intuition again, understanding—truly, for the first time—just how deep a mother’s love runs, even as children grow up and away. As they waited in the calm of the hospital ward, hands entwined, Mary gently asked about the girl Stan had been seeing—a new chapter in his life she wanted to share, not hinder. Stan spoke, relieved at last to share his hopes true and unfiltered, grateful for the love that waited for him, steady and unconditional, at home. And so, in his mother’s heart, he found the strongest shelter of all.

— Get Yourself Home! We’ll Talk There! — Max Barked, Not Wanting to Entertain Bystanders with a Scene. “Oh, whatever,” snorted Varya. “Varya, don’t push your luck!” Max threatened. “We’ll talk at home!” “Oh, how frightening!” she tossed her braid over her shoulder and marched toward the house. Max waited until Varya was out of sight, then pulled out his phone and spoke into the microphone: “She’s on her way home! Make sure you welcome her—just like we discussed! And send her down to the cellar to cool her temper! I’ll be there soon.” He pocketed his phone and set off toward the shop, hoping to reward himself for ‘disciplining’ his wife, but a perfect stranger stopped him with an outstretched hand. “Sorry to accost you like this,” the man smiled apologetically. “You were just with a young lady—” “My wife. What about her?” Max frowned. “Oh, nothing!” the man’s smile turned nervous and placating. “Er, by any chance, is your wife called Barbara Melton?” “Barbara, yes. She was Melton before the wedding. Why?” “And is her middle name Sarah?” “Yes!” Max snapped, growing irritated. “How do you know my wife?” “Forgive me,” the man stammered, “but was she born in ’93?” Max quickly did the math and replied: “Yeah. What’s with all the questions—how do you know Varya?” He tensed. She’d moved to their small English village just three years ago, from who-knows-where. Varya once confided her parents had tried to force her into marriage, so she’d run off. Strange enough that someone in their village, where gossip ran faster than the post, suddenly seemed to know all about Varya. “Sorry, I’m not acquainted with her personally!” the man flushed. “Just, well, I’m a bit of a fan!” “A fan?” Max growled, “Fan of what, mate—d’you think you can steal my wife?” “No, no, you misunderstand!” the man waved his hands desperately. “A fan of her skills, you see!” “Varya hasn’t got any special talents,” Max muttered, confused. “To get a lifetime ban from Muay Thai at eighteen for being too brutal—now that takes skill!” the man exclaimed. “A shame she stopped after a few private tournaments. Watching her in the ring was a sight to behold!” Max, his hands shaking, fumbled for his phone. It clattered to the pavement, scattering into pieces. By the time he’d gathered it up, it refused to turn on. Max took off running for home—murmuring under his breath, “Dear God, let me be on time!” When Barbara—Varya—first arrived in their village, Max immediately noticed her. Who wouldn’t? Young, athletic, spirited, and fun. She’d taken a job as a PE teacher at the primary school. People assumed she was just a student on placement, but it turned out she was twenty-five and here for good. When the villagers learned she came alone—well, the gossip brewed. “She’s hiding something!” clucked the old guard. “No family, just turns up out of the blue? There’s a secret, I swear!” “Maybe she’s just had a bad experience with a bloke and came here to mend her wounds,” others suggested. Max was intrigued, but cautious. “Lord only knows what baggage she’s lugging. In time, we’ll see.” Teachers’ lounges in England are hotbeds of personal tales, and within six months, Varya revealed her story: “My parents run a business—a decent family. But when things went bust, Dad decided to marry me off to settle our debts. You should’ve seen the groom! I chose to run.” “So you’re completely alone?” a seasoned colleague shook her head. “People live everywhere,” Varya shrugged, “but I’d rather make my own way than marry someone I don’t love! And I refuse to be some item up for sale.” “You’ll find love here, I’m sure!” her colleagues encouraged. “Small villages can still have decent people!” When the details trickled through the grapevine, Max made up his mind. “She’ll be my wife! The local girls are greedy and bold, but she’s an outsider. And we’ll never have to deal with her family!” That’s what he told his own: his mum, dad, and older brother. “She’s young, healthy, and athletic—teaches PE for a reason! She’ll give us healthy kids and pull her weight at home! How much can there be to do at school?” “A perfect match!” his family agreed. “If she kicks up a fuss, she’ll learn the hard way—our way.” They assumed the wedding was a matter of course. Max was good-looking, had a position as deputy manager at the local produce depot. When directors visited, he was nothing more than a clerk, but always had ideas for rationalising supply and handling stock—so much so, he was promoted. People joked about initiative being punished, but he’d built the entire depot’s success. Workers moaned about his tough discipline—and his brother Nick, as head of security, was a tyrant—but thefts stopped. How could Barbara refuse such a solid man? She accepted his courtship, then his proposal, moved out from her tiny flat, and into Max’s family home. “There’s only one way to live—together, as a family!” his mother declared. “Everything’s shared, everything together! I don’t know what you’re used to, but this is our way.” “I fled my old family ways for a reason,” Barbara replied. “Now I’m here, I’ll learn our new ones.” Her humility was welcomed. “Except I don’t know how to do much,” she admitted shyly, “Back home, our staff handled everything.” “We’ll fix that soon enough!” her father-in-law chuckled warmly. “We’ll teach you!” “I’m willing to learn, but I can’t abide unfairness,” Barbara warned. “My dear,” her mother-in-law interjected, “sometimes fairness is relative! Family has centuries-old rules. Honour your husband and his kin, be respectful, and a gentle woman is a beautiful woman! The men handle the big problems.” “If that’s how it is,” Barbara shrugged, “but I hope you’re not into punishments like the old days?” “No whips, no stables!” her father-in-law laughed. But Varya sensed what was coming. Within a month, her freedoms vanished. Work or shopping only! “Where are you off to? There’s work at home—garden, chickens, ducks!” “Varya! We’re a family! I can’t do it all myself!” her mother-in-law lamented. Truth be told, the men were always at work, from dawn ‘til late. Father-in-law nattered from his chair, but most of the chores fell to his wife and Barbara. Barbara worked hard but insisted on respect in return. If someone got lazy, she spoke up. “Work? Then everyone does their bit. If not, I’m not playing.” Two and a half years passed, and she would not settle. She stood her ground, demanded fairness. “What a handful this Barbara is!” her mother-in-law would exclaim. “If you say one thing, she says five back!” “She doesn’t respect me!” added her father-in-law. “I asked for a cushion, she brushed me off, said she was busy!” “Max, this isn’t right,” Nick said. “She’s disrespectful! Who forgives that?” “I know she’s enjoying herself at our expense! She needs taming—a circus beast needs breaking! And what if we have kids? She’ll take charge, say she’s the mother, and we’ll have no place here!” “We need a plan,” Nick decided. “Take her to the high street, then send her home alone. We’ll be waiting and have a word—or two—with her. If she listens, great. If not, we’ll use force. If she acts up, we’ll lock her in the cellar, say she’s gone on holiday. A month down there will sort her out!” And so they prepared. Max took Barbara for a walk, the family readied themselves, stoked their righteous fury, and waited for Max’s call telling them she was on her way. But Max was too late. The gate was intact; the front door—gone as if it had never existed. In the hall, Nick sat howling, cradling a broken arm. Max grabbed his brother’s phone, dialed for an ambulance, held it to his ear: “Tell them the address!” Nick nodded, writhing in pain. Among smashed furniture, his father lay unconscious. Alive, mercifully. In the kitchen doorway, his mother sat on the floor, a splendid bruise blooming across her cheek, holding a giant rolling pin snapped in two. At the table, Barbara sipped her tea. “Darling?” she looked up at Max, “Have you come for your share?” “N-no,” muttered Max. “Then I don’t know what to offer you,” she pondered. “Maybe a little fairness in our family?” “You should have warned us!” Max exclaimed. “You nearly…” “I know my limits. Everyone got what they deserved. Came at me with something, got it back the same way. Snapped the rolling pin over my own knee! And as for your mother, she ran into the door herself—never laid a finger on her.” “How do we even live together now?” Max asked. “I think, very harmoniously!” Barbara smiled. “And above all, with justice! And don’t even think about divorce—I’m expecting. My child will have a father!” Gulping, Max replied, “Alright, love.” Once everyone had recovered—tempers and bones alike—the family’s rules got a little update. And, from that day forward, there was peace and quiet in their home. And nobody ever dared wrong another, ever again!

“How Could She?! Didn’t Ask! Didn’t Even Consult Me! Imagine the Nerve – Waltzing Into MY Flat and Acting Like She Owns the Place! No Respect at All! Lord, Why Do I Deserve This? I’ve Spent My Whole Life Caring for Her, and THIS Is the Thanks I Get? She Doesn’t Even See Me as a Person! – Nina Wiped Away Her Tears – Apparently, My Life Doesn’t Suit Her! She Should Look at Her Own! Sitting Alone in Her Tiny Studio Flat Thinking She’s Caught the Luckiest Break. No Decent Job, No Proper Husband: Just Some Remote Work. How Does She Even Live? Yet She Thinks She Can Teach Me About Life! I Forgot Long Ago What She’s Only Starting to Grasp!” That Last Thought Jerked Nina Out of Her Chair. She Walked to the Kitchen, Put the Kettle On, and Went to the Window. Looking Out Over the Festive, Brightly Lit City, She Began Crying Again: “Everyone Else Is Busy Preparing for New Year, and Me? No Celebration At All… Alone as Can Be…” The Kettle Whistled – Lost in Her Memories, Nina Didn’t Even Notice… She Was Twenty When Mum Gave Birth to a Second Child at Forty-Five. Nina Was Astonished: Why Would Mum Take That On? “I Don’t Want You to End Up Completely Alone,” Mum Explained. “It’s Wonderful to Have a Sister. You’ll See. Later.” “I Get It, Even Now,” Nina Had Said Indifferently, “Just So You Know: I Won’t Be Looking After Her. I Have My Own Life.” “Not Anymore,” Mum Smiled. Her Words Were Prophetic. The Baby Was Only Three When Mum Died… Dad Had Passed Even Earlier. All the Responsibility Fell to Nina, Who Effectively Became Natasha’s Mum. Until She Was Ten, Natasha Even Called Her Mum. Nina Never Married – Not Because of Natasha, But Because She Never Met the One Man Who Could Win Her Heart. And Where Was She Supposed to Meet Him? She Kept to Herself: Home, Work, Sister. Home, Work, Sister… Forced to Grow Up Overnight, Nina Dedicated Her Whole Life to Her Sister: Raised Her, Educated Her. Now Natasha’s an Adult, Living Independently and Engaged to Be Married. She Visits Nina Often: The Sisters Are Very Close, Despite the Big Age Gap and Their Different Personalities and Outlooks. Nina, for Example, Is Extremely Frugal. Her Flat Has Become a Storage Depot for Ancient, Useless Things: The Dressing Gown She Wore Ten Years Ago, Receipts Dating Back to the Early 2000s. Her Kitchen Cupboards Are Full of Cracked Mugs, Chipped Tea Pots, and Lidless Saucepans. She Hasn’t Used Most for Years, but Can’t Bear to Throw Anything Out – ‘What If I Need It Someday?’ She Hasn’t Even Done Minor Decorating in Ages – Not Because She Can’t Afford It, But Because “The Wallpaper’s Still in One Piece.” Her Habit of Sacrificing Her Own Comfort for Her Sister’s Sake Has Left a Mark. Natasha’s the Opposite: Lively, Cheerful, and Practical. Her Flat’s Bright and Minimal, No Hoarding – Only What She Needs. She Even Has a Rule: “If I Haven’t Used Something in a Year, It Goes.” Natasha’s Place Feels Open, Airy, and Light. Time and Again She’d Offer: “Let’s Redecorate Your Place. We Can Even Sort Through Your Things, Before You Run Out of Space for Yourself.” “I’m Not Throwing Anything Out, and I Don’t Want Any Changes, or a New Decor,” Nina Would Reply. “I’m Fine as I Am.” “How Can You Say That? Just Look at Your Hallway! That Wallpaper’s Practically an Exhibit. Walking in Feels Like Entering a Cellar. All This Clutter is Sucking the Life Out of You – You Don’t Realise! It’s Not Healthy,” Natasha Persuaded. But Nina Would Brush Her Off Every Time. So Natasha Took Matters into Her Own Hands – Determined Her Sister Would See the Difference. She Chose to Surprise Her by Redecorating Just the Hallway, the Least Cluttered Part of the Flat. A Week Before New Year, While Nina Was Working a Long Shift (They Had Each Other’s Spare Keys), Natasha and Her Fiancé Replaced the Dingy Wallpaper: The Once Dreary Walls Became a Sunny Green with Gold Detailing. They Put Everything Back, Careful Not to Move Nina’s Belongings, and Left. Nina, Unsuspecting, Returned Home – Then Immediately Turned Around, Certain She’d Gotten the Wrong Flat. She Double-Checked the Flat Number – It Was Correct… She Entered Again. She Understood. Natasha! How Could She?! Nina Rang Her Sister and Let Her Have It. Half an Hour Later, Natasha Arrived. “Who Asked You?!” Nina Barked. “Nina, I Just Wanted to Surprise You. Look How Nice It Is: Clean, Bright, So Spacious!” Natasha Pleaded. “Don’t Ever Take Over My House Again!” Nina Raged, Unable to Stop Herself. A Barrage of Cruel Words Rained Down on Natasha. Finally, Natasha Broke: “Fine. Live in Your Dump if You Want. You Won’t See Me Here Again!” “Oh, Does the Truth Hurt? Running Away?” “I Pity You,” Natasha Whispered, Then Walked Out… She Hasn’t Called in a Week. The Sisters Have Never Stayed Angry for So Long – and With New Year Coming, Might They Have to Celebrate Separately? Nina Sat Down in the Hallway. “But It Really Is Roomier,” She Thought, Imagining Natasha and Sasha Hanging up the Wallpaper, Hoping to Survive Her Reaction. “And Why Did I Blow Up? It’s So Much Better Now. Brighter. Makes Me Happier, Too. Maybe My Sister Was Right?” Suddenly, the Phone Rang… “Nina,” Natasha’s Voice Was Shaky with Tears, “Please Forgive Me, I Didn’t Mean to Upset You. I Just Wanted to Make You Happy…” “Oh, My Darling Girl, I’ve Not Been Angry For Ages,” Nina Started to Sob as Well, “And There’s Nothing to Forgive: You Were Absolutely Right, and the Wallpaper’s Beautiful. After the Holidays We’ll Tackle My Clutter – If You Don’t Mind, That Is.” “Of Course I Don’t Mind! I’ll Gladly Help! And As for Today – It’s New Year’s Eve… I Can’t Imagine Celebrating without You…” “Nor Can I…” “Then Get Ready!” Natasha Chimed In, “We’ve Got Everything Sorted: Real Christmas Tree, Fairy Lights, Candles – Just How You Like It. And Don’t Fuss – I’ve Done All the Cooking. I Was Sure We’d Make Up and See in the New Year Together. Take Your Time – Sasha Will Come for You.” Nina Returned to the Window. Now She Saw the Sparkling City with New Eyes. She Smiled, Thinking: “Thank You, Mum… For My Sister…”