Chapter 2 - The Mask of Entitlement Falls
The silence that followed Alexandra’s outburst was heavy enough to crush bone. For five seconds, nobody moved. The hum of the refrigerator seemed deafening. Then, footsteps padded heavily against the laminate flooring, and Galina Artemovna appeared in the kitchen doorway, her face twisted in a mask of absolute shock and offense.
“Well! I never!” Galina gasped, placing a theatrical hand over her chest as if she had just been physically assaulted. “Is this how you talk to the woman who opened her home to you and your unemployed husband? In my own house, you dare raise your voice?”
“Your house?” Alexandra laughed, a cold, humorless sound that made her mother-in-law blink in astonishment. “You mean the apartment where I pay for half the groceries out of my own salary while working fifty hours a week? Where I scrub your floors, wash your daughter’s underwear, and cook meals tailored to everyone’s childish whims while your son lies on the sofa like a permanent fixture of the furniture?”
“Sasha, have you lost your mind?” Yevgeny ambled into the kitchen, looking thoroughly annoyed rather than apologetic. He rubbed the back of his neck, yawning lazily. “Why are you screaming? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. Mom just asked you to make dinner.”
Alexandra turned on him, her eyes blazing with a fury that had been accumulating for four long months. The sheer cowardice in his posture—the way he immediately aligned himself with his mother and sister to deflect accountability—made her sick to her stomach.
“A mountain?” Alexandra stepped forward, pointing a trembling finger at the overflowing sink behind him. “I have worked a full forty-hour week at my firm. I bring home fifty-eight thousand rubles a month, every single kopek of which goes toward feeding this ungrateful household because you haven't held a job since October! And you call this a molehill?”
“Watch your tone, young lady!” Lyubov chimed in, marching into the kitchen with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You’re a guest here! If you don't like the way things are run, nobody is forcing you to stay. You and my brother can pack your bags and leave right now!”
The audacity took Alexandra’s breath away. Leave right now? They knew perfectly well that without her salary and their depleted savings, leaving meant homelessness or renting a miserable shack they couldn't afford. They thought she was trapped. They thought she had nowhere else to go, and that gave them the license to treat her like dirt under their feet.
“Oh, don't worry about that,” Alexandra said, her voice dropping an octave, turning icy and dangerously calm. “I’m leaving. But I won't be the only one packing.”
She walked past them, ignoring their sputtering protests, marched straight into the bedroom she shared with Yegor and Yevgeny, and dragged her heavy suitcase out from the top of the wardrobe. She threw it open on the bed with a loud thud.
“Sasha, stop this dramatics right now,” Yevgeny said, walking into the bedroom, his voice dropping into a wheedling, manipulative tone. He tried to put his hand on her shoulder. “Don't be ridiculous. You’re tired from work. Let’s just calm down. We can talk about this in the morning.”
Alexandra violently shrugged his hand off her shoulder, glaring at him with such intense hatred that he actually stepped back.
“Don't you ever touch me again,” she whispered, her voice trembling with restrained rage. “It’s over, Yevgeny. Four months of carrying you, your mother, and your sister on my back is officially finished. You want a servant? Hire one. Because I am walking out that door tonight.”
She began aggressively pulling her clothes off the hangers, folding them hastily, and tossing them into the suitcase.
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“Fine! Go!” Galina Artemovna shrieked from the hallway, her face purple with rage. “And don't you dare think you’re taking a single ruble of our household savings with you! You came here with nothing, and you’ll leave with nothing!”
Alexandra zipped her suitcase shut with a violent tug, stood up tall, and looked each of them in the eye. Little did they know, the savings account wasn't in danger—because three weeks ago, sensing the ship was sinking, Alexandra had quietly opened a private account in her own name and redirected her salary. They were about to find out just how dependent they really were.
