She longs for freedom in retirement, and we no longer stand in her way.
Sometimes fate plays such odd tricks that it becomes impossible to tell truth from cruel irony. I never imagined that after twelve years under my motherinlaws roofwhen everything seemed stable and clearour family would be faced with a moral ultimatum: pay up or get out.
Right after our wedding, Élodie Dubois offered my husband and me to move into her spacious threeroom flat in the heart of Paris, while she gladly settled into my tiny suburban studio. We were thrilled: central location, good conditions, and the blessing of my motherinlawwhat could be better for a young couple?
We poured our wedding savings into a full renovation: new floors, fresh paint, a modern kitchen, rebuilt bathroom, brandnew parquet and a clever rearrangement of the rooms. When Élodie saw the result, her eyes lit up. It looks wonderful! she exclaimed. Youve done a great job! Compliments poured in at every visit. As a token of gratitude we covered all of her rent and utility bills. Relieved, she often thanked us, saying she could even set aside a little money from her pension. Honestly, throughout those years we never regretted the arrangement.
Then the children arriveda son first, then a daughter. As the family grew, we began dreaming of a real home of our own. We saved for a larger place, though a fourroom flat was still beyond reach. We kept our plans secret from Élodie, hoping to handle the transition smoothly when the time came.
Everything changed when she retired. The joy of freedom quickly turned into complaints: How can I live on such a meager pension? The government ignores retirees! We did what we couldgroceries, medicines, small favors. One afternoon, over tea, she dropped a sentence that left my husband speechless.
My dear, youre living in my apartment, after all. Shall we start talking about rent? Say a thousand euros a month?
My husband stared, then finally replied, Mother, are you serious? We already pay your bills, your groceries, your living costs are almost nothing. And now you want rent?
She answered bluntly, Then well swap again! I want my apartment back!
We realized it was blackmailharsh, direct, completely ungrateful. What she didnt know was that we already had enough saved for a down payment on our own place. We listened in silence, and that very evening decided the situation couldnt continue.
A few days later we arrived with a pienot as an apology, but hoping she might reconsider. As soon as the topic resurfaced she snapped, So, is it settled? Or are you going to cram yourselves into my place?
Our patience snapped.
Élodie, I said calmly, we wont squatter anywhere. You take back your flat, and we will claim our independence.
And with what money, I ask you?
My husband cut in, Well manage. Its no longer your problem. Remember, mother, you chose this. You wanted to live alone in your threeroom flat? Youll have it.
The next weeks flew by. We found a new home, secured a loan, tapped our savings and sold my studio to lower the monthly payments. Three weeks later our boxes were packed.
Now Élodie lives alone in the renovated apartment she lovedfunded by our moneyonly to realize she must occupy it solo. She complains to the neighbours about poor workmanship and ungrateful children, pays her own bills, carries her groceries, and finally tastes the bitter flavor of a retirement without any help.
As for us, we occupy a modest fourroom flat, a bit tight but completely freemorally and physically. No more accounts to settle, no fear of new demands or crises. We have turned the page.
As the proverb says, You reap what you sow. This time, however, were the ones who arent paying the price.
She Dreams of Freedom in Retirement, and We No Longer Stand in Her Way.
