After changing into soft clothes, Claire prepared a quick, simple dinner, washed the dishes, and settled onto the sofa with a book. Evening was the part of the day she valued most. Once the workday ended, she could finally stop thinking about customers, conversations, and the endless rush of the beauty studio. For a little while, she could enjoy the quiet and simply be alone with herself. Daniel rarely came home before nine, which meant those peaceful hours usually belonged entirely to her.
That evening, Claire had arrived home around seven. She had taken off her shoes on the landing because, after eight hours on her feet, her legs were aching badly. The studio had been unusually busy. Her hands were tired from repeating the same precise movements all day, and her fingers cramped from the strain.
Working six days a week was exhausting, but Claire was a skilled stylist. She had regular clients and earned a reliable income. She had no intention of giving up financial stability merely because the job left her tired.
Her two-bedroom apartment greeted her with its familiar silence.
Daniel was still delayed at the construction company, so she could breathe freely and rest for a while.
Claire had inherited the apartment from her grandmother two years earlier. Once the paperwork was complete, she had slowly arranged everything according to her own taste. She chose quiet colors for the walls, bought comfortable furniture, cleared away unnecessary belongings, and kept only the things she genuinely loved.
After their wedding, Daniel moved in with her.
At the time, they had agreed that respect for one another would be the foundation of their home.
No interference from relatives.
No decisions made behind the other person’s back.
No attempts to dictate how the other should live.
Claire sincerely believed that their agreement was still valid.
She reopened her book and managed only a few pages before the doorbell rang unexpectedly, sometime around half past seven.
Claire frowned in surprise.
Daniel had his own key and usually called ahead if he was coming home early.
When she looked through the peephole, she saw Margaret, her mother-in-law, standing outside in a dark coat with a large bag pressed against her side.
“Claire, sweetheart, open up. It’s me!” Margaret called.
Claire unlocked the door.
She had no idea what could have brought her mother-in-law over on an ordinary weekday evening.
Margaret was fond of dropping by without a proper invitation. She believed that her son’s apartment should always be open to her. Still, she usually gave at least a brief warning.
“Good evening, Margaret,” Claire said, stepping aside. “Daniel isn’t home yet.”
“I know,” Margaret replied. “We spoke earlier. I actually came to see you. There’s something important we need to discuss.”
Claire immediately became wary.
They went into the kitchen.
Margaret was usually confident, quick-talking, and certain of what she wanted. Tonight, however, there was a noticeable tension in the way she moved and spoke.
“Would you like some tea?” Claire asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
Margaret sat at the table and remained silent for a moment.
Then she sighed heavily.
“Claire, our family is going through a difficult time. You know Emily recently got divorced, don’t you?”
Claire nodded.
Daniel’s younger sister had separated from her husband about a month earlier.
The divorce had left her with two children: seven-year-old Ethan and four-year-old Sophie.
“They’re staying with me for now,” Margaret continued. “But you know what my apartment is like. There’s only one bedroom. The four of us are crammed together. The children have no room, Emily is struggling, and honestly, I’m worn out too.”
Claire poured the tea and listened without speaking.
She already sensed that Margaret had not come merely to complain.
Whenever her mother-in-law began with such a long introduction, it almost always ended with a request that was difficult to refuse without being branded coldhearted.
“Children are children, of course,” Margaret went on. “They run around and make noise. The woman downstairs has already complained several times. Ethan will be starting school soon, but there isn’t even a proper desk for him to study at. Sophie spreads her toys everywhere. The whole situation is completely unsuitable.”
“Is Emily looking for work?” Claire asked.
“She is, naturally. But where can someone find a decent job quickly these days? She doesn’t have much experience, and with two children it’s even harder. One gets sick, then the other has to be collected from preschool. Her former husband isn’t paying child support either. He’s disappeared somewhere, and no one can reach him.”
“I see.”
Claire truly felt sorry for Emily.
Yet the longer Margaret spoke, the stronger Claire’s feeling became that she was being prepared to solve a problem that was not hers.
“I’ve spent a long time thinking about what we can do,” Margaret said. “And the answer is right in front of us.”