She longs for freedom in retirement, and we no longer stand in her way.
The motherinlaw wanted a spacious life after retiring now we leave her be.
Sometimes fate pulls such odd tricks that the line between truth and cruel irony blurs. I never imagined that after twelve years living under my motherinlaws roof, when everything seemed steady and clear, our family would be confronted with a moral ultimatum: pay up or leave.
Right 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 settled into my modest studio in the suburbs. We were thrilled: a central location, good 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 looked brand new, with a modern kitchen, refurbished bathroom, fresh parquet, and a clever reallocation of space. When Élodie 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 took over 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 a 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, since a fourroom flat was out of reach. We kept the plan from Élodie, hoping to handle it smoothly when the time came.
Everything shifted when she retired. The excitement of freedom quickly turned into complaints: How can I live on such a meager pension? Retirees are ignored by the government! We did what we could grocery runs, medication pickups, small help. One afternoon, over tea, she dropped a sentence 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 was stunned. After a moment, he replied:
Mom, are you serious? We already cover your bills, your groceries; your cost of living is almost nothing. And now you want rent?
Her answer was blunt:
In that case, we swap again! I want my flat back!
We realized it was blackmail harsh, direct, and utterly ungrateful. What she didnt know was that we already had enough saved for a downpayment on our own place. We listened in silence, and that very evening we decided enough was enough.
A few days later we showed up with a pie not as an apology, but hoping shed reconsider. As soon as the topic arose, she snapped:
So, is that settled? Or will you pile up in my place?
Our patience snapped.
Élodie, I said calmly, we wont crowd into anything. You take back your flat, and well claim our independence.
And with what money, I ask you? she retorted.
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.
Things moved fast. We found a new home, secured a loan, dipped into our savings and sold my studio to lower the installments. Three weeks later our boxes were packed.
Now Élodie lives again in her renovated apartment funded by our money the one she adored only to discover shell be alone there. She now complains to neighbors about poor workmanship and ungrateful children, pays her own bills, carries her groceries, and finally tastes the bitter reality of a retirement without assistance.
As for us, we occupy a modest fourroom flat, but we are free morally and physically. No more accounts to settle, no fear of crises or new demands. We have turned the page.
As the proverb goes: You reap what you sow. This time, however, were not the ones footing the bill.
She Dreams of Freedom in Retirement, and We’re No Longer Against It.
