She dreams of freedom in retirement, and we no longer stand in her way.
Her motherinlaw wanted a spacious life after retiring now we leave her alone.
Sometimes fate plays such odd tricks that truth and cruel irony become indistinguishable. I never imagined that after twelve years living under my motherinlaws roof, when everything seemed steady, our family would be faced with a moral ultimatum: pay up or leave.
Shortly after our wedding, Élodie Dubois offered my husband and me to move into her roomy threeroom flat in the heart of Paris, while she happily settled into my tiny studio in the suburbs. We were over the moon: central location, decent conditions, and the blessing of my motherinlaw what more could a young couple ask for?
We poured our wedding savings into renovations: from floor to ceiling the apartment became practically new, with a modern kitchen, refurbished bathroom, brandnew parquet and a clever redistribution of space. When my motherinlaw saw the result, her eyes lit up. Its wonderful here! Youve done a great job! she raved at every visit. As a token of gratitude we covered all her rentrelated expenses. Relieved, she often thanked us, even saying she could set aside a little money from her pension. Honestly, over those years we never regretted the arrangement.
Then the children arrived: first a boy, then a girl. As the family grew we began to dream of a proper home of our own. We saved for a larger place, since a fourroom flat was beyond our reach. We kept the plan silent, hoping to handle it gently when the time came.
Everything shifted when she retired. The joy of freedom quickly gave way to complaints: How can I survive on this pitiful pension? Retirees are ignored by the government! We did what we could groceries, medicine, small help. One afternoon, over tea, she dropped a sentence that left my husband breathless.
My dear, youre living in my apartment, after all. So, shall we start talking rent? Say a thousand euros a month?
My husband was stunned. After a moment he replied:
Mom, are you serious? We already pay your bills, your groceries, your life costs almost nothing. And now you want rent?
Her reply was unmistakable:
In that case, lets swap again! I want my flat back!
We saw it for what it was: blackmail. Brutal, blunt, utterly ungrateful. What she didnt realize was that we already had enough saved for a downpayment on our own place. We listened in silence, then that very evening decided the situation could not continue.
A few days later we showed up with a pienot as an apology, but hoping shed reconsider. As soon as the subject arose she snapped:
So, is that settled? Or will you cram yourselves into my place?
Our patience snapped.
Élodie, I said calmly, we wont cram anywhere. You take back your flat, and we will claim our independence.
And with what money, I ask you? she demanded.
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.
Things moved fast. 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 packed.
Today, Élodie lives again in her renovated apartmentfunded by our moneythe one she adored, only to discover shell be alone. She now complains to neighbours about bad work and ungrateful children, pays her own bills, carries her groceries, and finally tastes the bitter reality of a retirement without support.
We, meanwhile, reside in 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.
