She longs for freedom in retirement, and we no longer stand in her way.
Her motherinlaw once wanted a spacious life after retiring now we leave her be.
Sometimes fate twists so oddly that truth and cruel irony become indistinguishable. I never imagined that after twelve years living under my motherinlaws roof, when everything seemed settled, our family would be faced with a moral ultimatum: pay up or get out.
Just after our wedding, Élodie Dubois offered my husband and me to move into her roomy threebedroom flat in the heart of Paris, while she gladly took my tiny studio in the suburbs. We were thrilled: central location, good conditions, and the blessing of my motherinlaw what more could a young couple ask for?
We poured our wedding money into renovations: floor to ceiling, the flat looked brand new, with a modern kitchen, refurbished bathroom, pristine parquet and a clever reallocation of space. When my motherinlaw visited, 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 her rent and utilities. Relieved, she often thanked us, saying she could even set aside a little from her pension. Honestly, for all 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, though a fourroom apartment was still out of reach. We kept our plans from Élodie, hoping to handle everything smoothly when the time came.
Everything shifted when she retired. The excitement of freedom quickly turned into complaints: How can I survive on such a meagre pension? Retirees are ignored by the government! We did what we could groceries, medicines, small favors. One afternoon, over tea, she dropped a line that left my husband speechless.
My dear, youre living in my flat, after all. How about we start talking rent? Say a thousand euros a month?
My husband sat stunned, then finally replied:
Mom, are you serious? We already pay your bills, your groceries, your living costs are almost nothing. And now you want rent?
She answered bluntly:
In that case, well swap again! I want my flat back!
We saw it for what it was: blackmailharsh, direct, utterly ungrateful. What she didnt realize was that we already had enough saved for a downpayment on our own place. We listened in silence, and that very evening decided the situation could not continue.
A few days later we arrived with a pienot to apologise but hoping shed reconsider. As soon as the topic surfaced she snapped:
So, is that settled? Or will you crowd into my place?
Our patience snapped.
Élodie, I said calmly, we wont crowd anywhere. You take back your flat, and well claim our independence.
And with what money, I ask you? she replied.
My husband cut in:
Well manage. Its no longer your problem. Remember, Mom, you chose this. You wanted to live alone in your threeroom flat? Youll have it.
Everything moved fast. 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.
Today, Élodie lives back in her renovated apartmentfunded by our moneythe one she loved so much only to discover shell be living there alone. She now complains to the neighbours about shoddy work and ungrateful children, pays her own bills, hauls her groceries, and finally tastes the bitter reality of a retirement without help.
As for us, we occupy a modest fourroom flat, but we live freelyboth morally and physically. No more accounts to settle, no fear of crises or new demands. We have turned the page.
As the proverb says, You reap what you sow. This time, however, were not the ones footing the bill.
She Dreams of Freedom in Retirement, and We No Longer Stand in Her Way.
