— I swear to you, it wasn’t me! — Sergey shouted so loudly the fridge trembled. — I’m telling you, Alinochka, it wasn’t me! Why are you starting all this?

— So the fridge opened itself, ate my rolls by itself, and turned off the electricity in the whole apartment by itself? — Alina stood in her robe in the middle of the kitchen, feeling her eye twitch. — My electricity bill came to eight thousand rubles! What am I, running an industrial plant or what?

He raised his hands like a schoolboy at a meeting.

— Maybe you forgot to turn off the hairdryer or that, what’s it called, your sterilizer?

— My sterilizer is in the OPERATING ROOM. And anyway, it’s on the other side of the city, — Alina ground her teeth, — and if you haven’t forgotten, I go there TO WORK. Not to mine bitcoins like your brother.

Sergey jerked as if shocked by electricity.

— Well, that’s just unfair…

— What’s unfair? That in my own house I don’t understand why my internet is like NASA’s and why even the light bulb in the storage room never goes out?

He looked down and stayed silent. But she wasn’t going to stop.

Alina had never been paranoid. Working in surgery kills bad fantasies: if you think someone is watching you, it’s probably just a janitor waiting for you to free up the lamp. But the last three months things had started happening that couldn’t be explained.

First — noises. As if someone was walking around the house while she was on duty.

Then — things out of place. Her favorite blanket was thrown over the armchair in the living room, although she had put it away in the closet a week ago.

Then came the bill. Eight. Thousand. Rubles.

She stared at the bill like it was a CT scan showing a tumor the size of half her skull. Something was definitely living in her house. And it wasn’t an animal.

That evening, when she came home early because a patient started premature labor and the shift ended early, she didn’t even take off her shoes in the hallway. Because she heard someone’s voice coming from the bedroom.

— Mom, don’t touch her cosmetics! That’s for oily skin, you have different skin!

Alina froze.

Slowly, like in a horror movie, she approached the sound.

In the bedroom, in HER bed, on HER pillows — sat Nina Petrovna in a robe, studying something in her cosmetic bag.

And out of the bathroom came Viktor. In swimming trunks only. With a towel on his head.

— Alina! — he jumped up. — Why are you home so early?

She stood like a statue.

— So what are you doing here so early? — she said slowly. — Welcome to my house. Or should I put up a sign here: “Sergey’s family — 24/7”?

— Well, we… uh… — Nina Petrovna twisted like a snake on a frying pan. — Sergey said that your bills were huge, so we decided…

— You decided the easiest thing was to charge your Tesla in my garage, sleep on my sheets, and rummage through my cosmetics?

Viktor shrugged.

— Well, the cosmetics are good. French?

She grabbed her head. Not like a doctor. Like a woman who had just been morally violated inside.

— So, you live here when I’m at work?

— It’s temporary! — Viktor shouted. — We thought you wouldn’t mind! We’re family!

Alina went to the kitchen to be silent. But silence didn’t happen.

There was a laptop. And connected to it was a damn miner.

It whirred as if producing electricity for the whole neighborhood.

She went to the personal account at Mosenergosbyt (electricity provider). The last three months — bills of eight, nine, seven thousand. Before that — two, at most three. All this started the moment she began night shifts.

— Alina, wait! — Sergey ran in. — Don’t jump to conclusions!

She closed the laptop.

— I’m a surgeon. I don’t jump to conclusions. I diagnose.

Parasites. Domestic. Family.

That night she slept in a hotel near the hospital. Sergey called her about twenty times. The last message was short:

“You’ve gone crazy. It was just helping family. Stop the hysteria.”

To which she replied:

“You stop the hysteria when you get the divorce papers.”

And she turned off the phone.

— So what are you going to do now, Alina? — Sergey sneered, putting a bouquet of carnations on the table as if she were a retired district therapist, not his wife. — Divorce? Because of a silly mistake?

— Because of systemic parasitism, — Alina said calmly, throwing the carnations in the trash. — Write the eviction notice. Voluntarily. While you still have your teeth.

He smirked.

— God, you’re completely crazy… All because my mom stayed over a couple of times? She can’t live on the street!

— Yeah, and not in a hotel, but in my bedroom. And by the way, your brother uses my shower. Don’t forget to tell the court how they “a couple of times” used up thirty thousand rubles worth of my internet in three months.

— The lawyer said you can’t just kick me out — he changed the subject. — We’re family. Six months married — that’s joint property already.

She smirked.

— Did you check the house on Rosreestr? (property registry) Bought four years before you. Before you, Sergey. Even the kettle got here earlier. The house is not divided. What divides is responsibility for your actions.

— What kind of person are you after all this, Alina! — Sergey’s voice became shrill. — A doctor! You heal people, and you’re as mean as a shark! Do you even have a heart?

— I do, — she snapped. — I protect it. From people like you.

A week later he still came. Not alone. With a lawyer. Young, polished, in a cheap talk-show host style suit. He started confidently from the doorstep.

— Hello, Alina Sergeevna. We want to settle everything amicably, considering Sergey’s contribution to maintaining the house…

— What contribution exactly? — Alina raised an eyebrow. — How he opened the fridge and ate my dinner? Or how he started mining on my network?

Sergey shivered.

— He provided moral support while you were at work, — the lawyer mumbled, not looking her in the eyes. — Talked to you on the phone, took care of you…

— And also used the shower and Wi-Fi password, — Alina smirked. — Should I make him sign a receipt that he “morally supported” me?

— We want to offer a compromise, — the lawyer nervously flipped through papers. — Split the property fifty-fifty.

She silently pulled out documents:

— The house — before marriage. The car — mine. The bank account — mine. Here are the official certificates. Your client will get… two robes and a broken kettle. If he’s lucky.

Sergey flared up.

— Alina, are you serious? After everything between us?

— Between us was you and your family in my bed. So yes, serious.

The next day Nina Petrovna called her.

— Alinochka, why are you acting like a stranger? We’re family. You’re kicking my son out of the house — with such offense! And he loved you…

— Seriously? I thought he loved the storage room outlet more.

— Oh come on! We didn’t harm you. It’s all because of your work… Surgery, nights… He was bored alone. At least he could talk to his mom while you were gone.

Alina squinted.

— Will you say that in court too? That you got bored and climbed into someone else’s house, used electricity, internet, water, lay on my pillows, poured out my shampoo, ate my food, and never apologized?

— Why are you so angry! A woman without children is always angrier, I’ve noticed. Maybe that’s why you’re divorced — you don’t appreciate your husband or motherhood?

And then Alina’s voice trembled:

— Maybe because unlike you, Nina Petrovna, I know how to earn money. And I don’t eat from someone else’s spoon. Goodbye.

And she hung up.

That evening she printed out divorce papers and took them to court.

Then she sat in the kitchen with a glass of red wine and for the first time in a long time felt: it was easier to breathe. Nobody stomping in the storage room. Nobody dragging a blanket around. Nobody rubbing her sink with someone else’s brush.

Silence. Real silence.

But there was one detail she still didn’t notice:

Sergey wasn’t going anywhere.

He was silent. Waiting.

And in the house… the garage light turned on again.

— So you decided to play hide-and-seek with me? — Alina quietly said, looking at her phone screen.

On the video from the camera it was clearly visible how Sergey at two in the morning unlocked the back door with a spare key and entered the house. Not sneaky, not in a rush. Like he was still the owner. Her slippers — hers, old T-shirt — hers, supermarket bag — full. Confidently walks straight to the garage, turns on the light, checks the socket, takes out his laptop and… starts mining.

— Damn it, — she whispered, pouring coffee, — does he think I’m completely stupid?

Though suspicions had long been there. After the “official” separation, small strange things started happening again. The kettle was warm in the morning. The bathroom window was ajar, although she had closed it tightly. And the electricity bill came again as if she was charging a spaceship.

First, she thought it was a malfunction. Then — forgetfulness. Then — paranoia.

Then she googled “mini hidden surveillance camera with motion sensor” and placed an order.

— You’re sick! — Sergey shouted when she showed him the video. — Are you spying on me?! That’s a constitutional violation! I’ll sue you!

— Go ahead, — Alina replied calmly, folding documents into a folder. — Only you’ll enter court with one summons and leave with two. Do you know what “self-will with breaking and entering” is?

— I didn’t steal the key! I… I just didn’t give it back. It was with me. Out of love.

— Uh-huh, and you apparently connected your laptop out of love while I was on duty? — she squinted. — And mined out of love, on my network, on my bill, in my house?

He recoiled as if hit.

— I just… didn’t know what to do. You did everything alone. Everything is yours: house, job, car. And I… I felt useless.

— You were useless, Sergey. From the very start. I just still believed it was possible to settle in — even though we were adults.

— Well, forgive me. Forgive that I’m not a surgeon, not Superman, don’t make millions. I’m ordinary. But I loved you.

— Love isn’t when you coo in the kitchen, then hide your stuff in the garage and eat my cheese. Love is respect. And you… you’re a parasite. You latched on, lived, sucked, and didn’t even sneeze in thanks.

That evening she called the district police officer. Everything was by the book:

— Here’s the statement, here are the videos, here’s a list of recorded night entries.

— Yes, yes, he had the key before the divorce, but I officially notified him that access to the house is terminated.

— Here’s a copy. Here’s a signature that he received it.

— So, will they jail him? — grimaced neighbor Galina Nikolaevna when she found out. — Or just a fine?

— I don’t know, — Alina replied. — But he definitely won’t come in again.

The next morning the locks in the house were changed. For the first time in many years Alina woke up alone, in complete silence. No fridge creaking. No strange footsteps on the stairs. No smell of someone else’s deodorant.

She took down an old coffee maker from the cupboard, brewed coffee, and sat by the window.

There, in the yard, the garage was empty. Sergey’s rig used to hum there, his wires, boxes, tools were stored there. Now — silence. Freedom.

And then the phone rang.

— Alina Sergeevna? Good morning. You are being called from the district court.

— I’m listening.

— Your ex-husband… filed a petition to declare the marriage invalid, arguing that “the marriage was built on deception.”

Alina smirked:

— Well, of course. He thought I was a free power outlet.

And at that moment she realized — that was it. She would no longer be a mother, nor a sponsor, nor a guarantor. She was not an app to someone else’s life. She was life itself.

And that evening she went to the garden center. Bought a sign.

Big, metal, like they like in factories:

“No Trespassing. Energy Theft is Prosecuted by Law.”

And nailed it right on the gate.

The neighbor laughed:

— Alina, did you open a power plant for yourself?

— No, — she smirked. — I closed a brothel.

THE END

Alina filed a countersuit detailing all incidents of trespassing, electricity theft, and illegal entry. The court ruled in her favor. Sergey got a suspended sentence and a hefty fine.

Alina got peace.

And freedom.

And complete, ringing silence — in the house, in her soul, and in her future.