They say that the rst home you buy together as a couple is where you build
your future. For Alex and me, it was meant to be exactly that—a small, cozy
two-bedroom apartment on the third oor, with sunlight ooding the kitchen
every morning.
We purchased it just three months after our wedding, and while we both
contributed to the mortgage, the truth was simple: this home was largely
thanks to my parents.
My mom and dad, Debbie and Mason, had given us most of the down payment as a wedding gift. “Don’t
ask, don’t refuse, just accept it, dear daughter,” my father had said.
So we did. There were no questions, just love and support. They had always been there for me, providing
me with their quiet strength and unwavering loyalty.
Maybe because of that, I always felt that the love, not obligation, was what had built this home. But that’s
when I started to notice something strange about Barbara’s attitude every time she visited.
I remembered how she had eyed the apartment during my bridal shower, almost taking inventory of
everything—not as a guest, but as someone calculating. The gleam in her eyes wasn’t admiration; it was
something else. It wasn’t until later, when my father mentioned he’d rented the apartment for my bridal
shower weekend, that I realized he had planned to buy it for me, but he hadn’t told me yet.
“Your mom’s going to give you this place, Mo,” he had said. “Anything for her princess, right?”
He was right, but it was really none of his business. So when we nally moved in, I decided to throw a
housewarming party.
“Why do you want so many people here, Mo?” Alex had asked.
“Because I want to show off the house! I want to be a great hostess, and I’d rather have everyone here at
once than those annoying weekend visits,” I explained.
It took some convincing, but eventually, Alex agreed. I spent two days cooking
—honey-thyme glazed roast chicken, salads with candied nuts and goat
cheese, and a cake I spent hours on, even though it tilted slightly to the right,
it still tasted wonderful.
I wanted everyone to see what I had created. I wanted them to see that I was
thriving.
The night of the housewarming, I spent over an hour getting ready. I don’t
know why I felt the need to be perfect, but I couldn’t help myself.
Katie, my sister-in-law, arrived without her kids. She said a friend had taken
them to a birthday party. “Thank goodness, Mo,” she said. “The kids were so
excited about the party, they probably forgot their manners.”
Honestly, I was relieved. Katie’s three kids were the type who left destruction in
their wake, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading to chaos.
The party continued. The wine owed, laughter lled the air, and the sounds of
clinking glasses and Alex’s indie band music added to the atmosphere. I was
talking to my aunt about backsplash tiles when I heard a glass clink. Barbara
was at the head of the table, smiling like a queen.
“I look at these two,” she said, nodding at Alex and me, “And I’m so proud!
They’re such a wonderful couple. It must be so easy for them to save for a
house together. Unlike Katie… who has to raise three kids on her own.”
Her words were sweet, but her tone was sour. My stomach tightened. “Katie
will never be able to afford her own house, right, honey?” Barbara cooed to
Katie, who sighed dramatically, playing along like she was auditioning for a
daytime TV role.
Then Barbara turned to my parents and smiled even wider.
“This apartment… you’ll have to give it to Katie. She needs it more than you do,”
she said. At rst, I thought I had misheard. Surely, she was joking. But then
Alex casually chimed in, as if they had discussed this beforehand.
“Yes, Mom,” he said. “Mo, think about it. We can stay at my mom’s for a while.
Your parents helped us once, right? They can help again. Mom can have some
peace away from the kids for a bit, and Katie can have her space.”
I stared at Alex, still half-laughing as if this were some bizarre joke.
“Well, baby. We’ll start over when the time comes. With your parents’ help, it
won’t take long. This place is perfect for the kids. Katie needs it. Besides, you
decorated this apartment. I had nothing to do with it. I want a place where I
can make decisions too.”
I looked at Katie, already looking around, mentally redecorating. “It’s only fair,”
Barbara nodded, proud as ever. She gazed at Alex like he had done something
extraordinary. My mother’s hand froze on her wine glass. My father dropped
his fork onto the oor with a sharp clink. I opened my mouth, but no sound
came out. It felt as if my brain couldn’t process the audacity of what they were
trying to do. Then Debbie, my calm and gentle mother, folded her napkin and
placed it on the table with such quiet authority that the room fell silent.
“I didn’t raise my daughter to be anyone’s fool,” she said. Her voice was soft,
but every word landed like a hammer. “What are you saying?” Barbara blinked.
“You want her house?” my mother continued. “You want Mo’s house? Then
take her to court. But I swear you’ll lose.”
Everyone froze.
“Sweetheart, give them the papers,” my mother said, turning to me. I nodded
and went to the drawer I had labeled “just in case.” I pulled out the envelope
and handed it to Alex.
He furrowed his brow, opening it. Katie leaned in. Barbara leaned forward,
confusion turning to panic.
“What the hell is this?” Alex muttered, scanning the pages. I sat slowly,
crossing my hands in my lap.
“Since my parents covered most of the down payment, they made sure the
deed was in my name only. Not a single square inch of this apartment belongs
to you.”
Barbara’s expression cracked like glass. “That… that can’t be right,” she
stammered. My mother took a sip of her wine.
“Oh, but it is. We weren’t born yesterday, Barbara. We saw how you acted even
before the wedding. So we made sure our daughter was protected.”
“Maureen was never going to be the subject of your scheming,” my father said.
“Mo is our daughter. We want to keep her safe. Not your daughter or your
grandchildren, Barbara.”
Barbara’s face twisted with disbelief. “And what? You’re just going to kick me
out?” Alex’s ears turned bright red. “No, Alex…” I tilted my head.
“You signed a prenuptial agreement,” I reminded him. “Remember? Any
property bought with my family’s help is mine.”
“But you’re married! That should count for something.”
I laughed once, softly and bitterly. “It should, I agree. But loyalty should count
too. Just like not surprising your wife at her own party and trying to give away
her house to your sister.”
Alex kept ipping through the pages, shaking his head. “There has to be
something here that…”
“There isn’t,” my father interrupted. His voice was rm and unyielding. “And
before you think of contesting this in court, you should know that our lawyer
wrote everything up.”
Katie nally spoke, her voice quiet.
“But where are we supposed to go?” she asked.
I looked at her and shrugged. “To live with your mother? And Alex can go with
you.”
Alex slammed the papers down on the table. “You… knew this all along?”
I set my glass down and leaned slightly forward.
“No, Alex,” I said. “I didn’t know you’d be so stupid. But I did suspect your
mother would try something. Call it intuition, call it… a sixth sense. So I made
sure I was protected. And now, you’re the one left without a home.”
Barbara looked as if she had swallowed a broken glass. She opened her mouth,
then closed it. She turned to Katie, who had tears in her eyes. “Mom? What do
we do?” she whispered. “I thought this was nally going to be mine. I told the
kids…”
Barbara gritted her teeth.
Alex stood motionless, staring at the papers as if they would burst into ames
and undo his mistake. My father took a slow sip of his drink while his eyes xed
on Alex, peeling away the layers of deception.
“A man who lets his mother control his marriage is not a man,” he said, as calm
as ever. “And a man who tries to steal from his wife? He’s not just a fool… he’s a
coward. Take it however you want, Alex.”
Alex blinked slowly. He stood up and left the papers on the table. He opened
his mouth to say something—maybe to apologize, maybe to defend himself—
but he said nothing. Dad didn’t even blink.
“And now,” he said, this time more rmly. “You leave, Alex.”
Barbara grabbed her purse. Katie followed her silently. Alex stayed behind, his
shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the truth had nally hit him. The door
closed behind them with a nality that echoed in the silence.
My mother leaned back and exhaled. “Well, Mo,” she said, grabbing the wine
again. “That went well… Now, let’s have some cake.”
I looked at my parents, two people who had never let me down, and for the
rst time that night, since Barbara walked through the door, I smiled.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and
written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only