She longs for freedom in retirement, and we no longer stand in her way.
Her motherinlaw wanted a spacious life after retiringnow we leave her be.
Sometimes fate plays such odd tricks that it becomes hard to tell truth from cruel irony. I never imagined that after twelve years living under my motherinlaws roof, when everything seemed steady and clear, our family would face a moral ultimatum: pay up or get out.
Shortly after our wedding, Élodie Dubois offered my husband and me to move into her roomy threebedroom flat in the heart of Paris, while she happily settled into my small suburban studio. We were thrilled: city living, good conditions, and our motherinlaws blessingwhat more could a young couple ask for?
We poured our wedding money into renovationsfrom floor to ceiling. The apartment looked brand new, with a modern kitchen, refurbished bathroom, fresh parquet, and a clever relayout of the rooms. When my motherinlaw saw the result, her eyes lit up. Its beautiful here! Youve done an excellent job! she praised at every visit. As a token of gratitude we covered all her rental expenses. Relieved, she often thanked us, even saying her pension allowed her to set aside a little money. Honestly, throughout those years we never regretted the arrangement.
Then the children arrived: first a boy, then a girl. As the family grew, we began dreaming of a true home of our own. We saved for a larger place, since a fourroom apartment was beyond our reach. We kept our plans from Élodie, hoping to handle it quietly when the time came.
Everything changed when she retired. The joy of freedom quickly turned into complaints: How can I live on such a miserable pension? Retirees, the government doesnt care! We did what we couldgrocery trips, medicines, small favors. One afternoon, over tea, she dropped a sentence that left my husband breathless.
My dear, youre living in my flat, after all. Shall we start talking rent? Lets say a thousand euros a month?
My husband was speechless. After a moment he replied:
Mum, are you serious? We already pay your bills, your groceries; your cost of living is almost nothing. And now you want rent?
Her answer was blunt:
In that case, well swap again! I want my flat back!
We realized it was blackmailharsh, direct, utterly ungrateful. What she didnt know was that we already had enough 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 showed up with a pienot to apologise, but hoping shed reconsider. As soon as the topic surfaced she snapped:
So, is that settled? Or are you going to cram yourselves into my place?
Our patience snapped.
Élodie, I said calmly, we wont cram ourselves anywhere. You take back your flat, and well secure our independence.
And with what money, I ask? she retorted.
My husband cut her off:
Well manage. Its no longer your problem. Remember, mum, you chose this. You wanted to live alone in your threeroom flat? Youll have it.
Everything moved quickly. We found a new home, secured a loan, dipped into our savings, and sold my studio to lower the monthly payments. Three weeks later our boxes were sealed.
Today, Élodie lives again in her renovated apartmentfinanced by our moneythe one she loved only now shes alone. She now complains to the neighbours about bad work and ungrateful kids, pays her own bills, carries her groceries, and finally tastes the bitter reality of a retirement without support.
As for us, we occupy a slightly cramped fourroom flat, but we are freemorally and physically. No more accounts to settle, no fear of crises or fresh demands. We have turned the page.
As the proverb says, You reap what you sow. This time, however, were not the ones paying the price.
She Dreams of Freedom in Retirement, and We No Longer Stand in Her Way.
