I was working hard to buy my dream home, but my husband’s family came and claimed it without warning. But they forgot one important detail: I paid for this house and I wasn’t going to let them take it.
I worked hard. Long hours. Overtime. Sleepless nights.
A tired woman at home ⏐ Source: Pexels
Every dollar I saved brought me one step closer to my dream – a real home. A place where I could finally breathe, where my children could run around in a yard instead of playing in a cramped living room.
Jack, my husband, was supposed to help me. That was our agreement. I worked and he took care of the house. He cooked, cleaned and looked after the children.
But Jack did none of that.
A man sleeping in his living room ⏐ Source: Pexels
Most days I came home to dirty dishes, toys everywhere, and Jack on the couch with a controller in his hand. The PlayStation was his real job. He could spend hours strategizing for a virtual battle but couldn’t load a dishwasher.
“Baby, five more minutes,” he said, his eyes glued to the screen.
A man watching television ⏐ Source: Pexels
The five minutes turned into hours. So I did it all. I worked all day and cleaned all night. I hired a nanny with my own money because someone had to pick up the kids.
I was exhausted, but I kept going. Because I had a goal.
And then it happened and I bought the house.
A woman buying a house ⏐ Source: Pexels
It wasn’t a mansion, but it was perfect. A big kitchen, hardwood floors, and a backyard with a swing set already installed.
The moment I held the keys in my hand, something inside me changed. This house wasn’t just a house. It was proof of everything I had done. All the sleepless nights, all the sacrifices, all the tears.
It was mine.
Jack didn’t even pretend to be excited.
A bored man with a TV remote control ⏐ Source: Pexels
“Cool,” he said, barely looking up from his phone. “When are we having dinner?”
I should have known it then, but I was too happy to care.
On the day of the housewarming party, I woke up feeling light. For the first time in years, I wasn’t weighed down by stress.
The house smelled of fresh paint and vanilla candles. I had spent the morning arranging snacks, placing flowers on the dining table, and making sure everything was perfect.
A woman setting the table ⏐ Source: Pexels
It was the beginning of something new. A new beginning. Then the doorbell rang.
They were Jack’s parents. Yet they were not invited.
Her mother, Diane, entered first, looking around as if she were inspecting a hotel room.
“Finally,” she said, sighing theatrically. “It took you a while to buy a real house. That apartment was stuffy.”
I forced a smile. “I’m glad to see you too.”
A woman smiling on her porch ⏐ Source: Pexels
His father, Harold, grunted. “Not bad.” He knocked on the wall as if testing for termites. “I hope you didn’t overpay.”
Jack sat down on the couch, barely acknowledging them. I was used to it. Jack only got involved when he had to.
I was about to offer drinks when Diane clapped her hands.
“Well,” she said, turning to Harold, “should we bring the bags now or after dinner?”
I frowned. “What?”
A woman frowning with her arms crossed ⏐ Source: Freepik
She looked at me like I was too slow. “Our bags. Should we bring them now?”
I stared at her. “Why bring bags?”
Harold scoffed. “Oh, honey, don’t act surprised. Didn’t Jack tell you? In our family, the youngest son buys a house, and the parents move in. That’s how it works.”
My stomach dropped. “Excuse me?”
A smiling man holding his phone ⏐ Source: Pexels
Diane waved. “We’ll take the master bedroom, of course. We need the space.”
“The what?” My voice choked.
She continued as if she hadn’t just turned my world upside down. “We’re going to have to repaint. That color is awful. And a bigger refrigerator – there are too many people in the house now.”
I looked at Jack, waiting for him to end this story. He didn’t.
A bored man ⏐ Source: Pexels
Instead, he shrugged. “Yeah, baby. That’s how we do things. Stop making a fuss. That’s the rule.”
The rule. The rule?!
I wanted to scream, to overturn the dining table and watch the candles shatter on the floor. But I didn’t. I took a deep breath, smiled, and nodded.
“Oh,” I said. “Sure.”
Diane beamed. “See? I told you she’d understand.”
A smiling woman wearing a white sweater ⏐ Source: Pexels
I looked at Jack. He wasn’t paying attention. His mother had spoken, so in his mind, the discussion was over.
But that wasn’t the case. While they were making plans for my house, I was making my own plans, and they wouldn’t see it coming.
That night I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
A sleepless woman in her bed ⏐ Source: Midjourney
Jack was next to me, snoring as if his conscience was clear. As if he hadn’t let his parents come into my house and claim it as their own.
As if I were nothing. As if I were just a bank account.
I thought about everything I had done for this family. The late nights. The double shifts. The time I missed with my children because I was too busy trying to give them a better life.
A thoughtful woman in her bed ⏐ Source: Midjourney
And for what reason?
So Jack can sit on the couch all day, waiting for me to come home and cook? So his mother can treat me like a guest in my own home?
No. I wasn’t going to let them take that from me. I had worked too hard.
I turned my head and looked at Jack. He was fast asleep, completely unaware that everything was about to change.
A sleeping man ⏐ Source: Pexels
I smiled. Tomorrow they would all learn.
I woke up early the next morning, slipped out of bed without waking Jack, and made a phone call.
“Hello, I need my locks changed,” I told the locksmith. “Today.”
“Sure. What’s the address?”
A woman talking on the phone ⏐ Source: Pexels
I gave it to him. Then I made my next call.
“Hello, this is the law firm of Carter and Lane. How may we help you?”
“Hello, I need to file for divorce.”
By noon the locksmith was done. The house was officially mine again.
A man changing a lock ⏐ Source: Midjourney
Jack was still asleep when I packed his things. He didn’t wake up until I started dragging his gaming chair to the garage.
“What are you doing?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“I’m packing,” I said, pushing his box of tangled controllers into the pile.
“What for?”
I didn’t answer. I just continued.
A woman packing boxes ⏐ Source: Pexels
He yawned and scratched his belly. “Did Mom call? She said they’d be here with their bags today.”
I smiled. “Oh, I know.”
Jack didn’t even notice the way I said it. He just grunted and headed to the bathroom.
By the time I left for my child’s school event, the house was clean and quiet.
A clean and quiet house ⏐ Source: Pexels
I was sitting in the auditorium, half-listening to the principal talk about the importance of school spirit, when my phone started vibrating violently in my pocket. I pulled it out and smiled.
IN-LAWS.
I left the room, sat down on a bench and answered, using my softest voice. “Hello?”
“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Diane screamed.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and smiled. “Sorry, what was that?”
Angry woman screaming into her phone ⏐ Source: Freepik
“You locked us out! ” she screamed. “We can’t go back inside! We have our bags! Where’s Jack?!”
Jack’s voice came next, angry and sharp. “Emily, open the damn door!”
I leaned back, crossing my legs. “Oh, Jack. You haven’t been thinking this through, have you?”
Silence.
Then Harold. “You ungrateful little thing…”
Angry man clenching his fists ⏐ Source: Freepik
“Ah, ah, ah,” I interrupted him. “Let me tell you something very clear.”
I took a deep breath, savoring the moment.
“This is my house. I paid for it. Not Jack. Not you. I did. And I’m tired of being treated like a walking ATM.”
Jack’s voice came through, desperate now. “Emily, come on. Let’s talk about this.”
“Oh, we ’ll talk about it ,” I said. “But in court.”
A smiling woman talking on the phone ⏐ Source: Pexels
Diane jumped. “In court?! You’re getting a divorce?! For that ?!”
I laughed. “No, Diane. I’m getting a divorce because I’m tired of killing myself while he sits on his ass. I’m tired of his family thinking they can walk all over me. I’m done. “
Jack tried one last time. “Emily, please. We can fix this.”
I smiled. “Jack, your stuff is in the garage. But you’re not coming back in as my husband.”
A smiling woman talking on the phone while looking up ⏐ Source: Freepik
His mother snapped. “You can’t do this! You’re his wife! “
“Not for much longer,” I said, then hung up. I put my phone on silent and watched my child walk across the stage, smiling proudly.
Filing for divorce was like ripping off a Band-Aid. It stung at first, but the relief that followed was worth it.
A lawyer holding divorce papers ⏐ Source: Pexels
I blocked Jack’s number. His parents’ numbers. Even his cousin who tried to text me with a half-hearted message like “family is everything.”
No, it’s respect that counts.
Jack tried one last time, sending me an email.
A serious man on his laptop ⏐ Source: Pexels
Subject: Civility Message: I don’t know why you’re doing this. We have a history. A family. We don’t throw all that out the window. I still love you. Let’s talk before this goes too far.
I deleted it.
That night I lay in my bed in my house with no one telling me what I owed them. No husband weighing me down. No in-laws demanding what wasn’t theirs.
A woman drinking tea in her bed ⏐ Source: Pexels
Just silence and peace. I took a deep breath, feeling lighter than I had in years.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t someone’s wife.
I was me. And I was free.
A happy woman on her phone in her bed ⏐ Source: Pexels
If you enjoyed this story, consider reading this one : I never imagined taking a second job would land me on the doorstep of my husband’s betrayal. But when I knocked over a picture at Vanessa’s house, I realized this rich, glamorous woman wasn’t just my boss. She was the reason my marriage was falling apart.
This work is inspired by real events and persons, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims as to the accuracy of events or portrayal of characters and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Để lại một phản hồi