Finally, Tom and Emily had their own flat. They’d bought it and fulfilled their long-held dream—their daughter was almost five, and they’d been drifting between rentals until now.
“Tom, I’m so happy,” Emily said the first morning in their new place, snuggling up to him. “I’m sleeping in *our* flat—this is pure happiness,” she gushed, her voice full of emotion.
“I’m glad too,” Tom replied, far calmer. He was always more reserved than Emily.
That restraint had saved their marriage more than once. Emily was fiery, and Tom quietly balanced her out. That—and love, of course—was what kept them strong.
“True,” Tom said, “but we’ve still got the renovation to get through. The place is in such a state…”
“Yeah, I know. But we’ll manage. We’ll make it lovely,” Emily said. “Though we *do* need cash for it. We put everything into the flat.”
“Maybe we should take out a loan? We bought the place mortgage-free, but the reno’s gonna cost a fair bit,” Tom mused, scanning the bedroom. “A *lot*, actually.”
“Ugh, another loan? We just finished paying off the car,” Emily groaned. “But where else will we get the money? We already tapped our parents for the deposit. Guess we’ll have to manage on our own. Fine, Tom—let’s do it.”
“We’ll get the loan, fix the place up, and then we’re free. Maybe even take a holiday,” Tom said, and Emily nodded.
Decision made: they’d borrow for the reno. The flat hadn’t seen an update in years. Emily had always sworn, “If I ever get my own place, I’ll *exactly* know how to style it.”
But now it was theirs, and it was *far* trickier than she’d imagined. They’d even taken out a loan.
The flat wasn’t small—three bedrooms, a decent layout, and, best of all, a big kitchen. Emily had *always* wanted that. No more cramped cooking where everyone’s in each other’s way.
Their daughter, Lily, had her own room too, thrilled to finally stash her toys and line up her dolls.
Emily had *ideas*—so many that the redesign threatened to turn the place upside down. But reality kept tripping her up: awkward door placements, pipes in the wrong spots.
“Tom, do you know how much an interior designer costs?”
“A fair bit, love. What’re you thinking?” Tom said. “They charge a fortune—way over our budget.”
That evening, they sat on the floor, picking paint swatches. They settled on a warm beige for the bedroom. Saturday, they’d hit B&Q for supplies.
But on Friday, Tom came home buzzing. “Em, listen! At work, the lads were talking renos, and Dave mentioned his mate Anna—she’s a *top* designer. Did our CEO’s place!”
“You *said* we can’t afford one,” Emily reminded him.
“That’s the thing—Dave reckons she’ll cut us a deal. Quoted us ten grand.”
“*Ten grand?!* Just to tell us where to put things and what colour to paint?!” Emily spluttered.
“Shh! But imagine—a *proper* designer flat,” Tom soothed. “If you want it gorgeous, you’ve gotta invest, right? Think it over. I’ll call Dave if you’re keen.”
The temptation was huge. So Emily agreed, and Anna arrived the next day.
“Mm, cosy,” Anna said, glancing around. “Not much wiggle room.”
“I’ve got some ideas,” Emily ventured. “Like a wardrobe here—” She pointed.
Anna shook her head. “No, that’ll clutter it. Let me think.”
She paced, Tom and Emily trailing behind. Then she proposed her vision. Hated their laminate flooring (though they weren’t ripping it up—Emily *loved* it). Scoffed at their new light fixture.
“Laminate could be swapped for tile with metal accents. *So* sleek. Fine, keep the floor. Let’s focus on lighting and palette. That chandelier’s *got* to go.”
Emily clenched her jaw. Tom kept squeezing her hand—*stay quiet*. But this wasn’t her dream anymore.
“Anna’s staging a coup,” Emily muttered later.
“Em, she’s a *pro*,” Tom said.
Emily bit her tongue. No fights. But she needed *guidance*, not a bulldozer. Especially not on their brand-new light fitting.
Now the reno was all they thought about—until Lily asked, “Daddy, how old will I be when it’s done? I want my pretty room *now*.”
Tom swung her up, laughing. “Us too, poppet.”
That night, Emily sketched her vision. Anna returned with her own plans.
“Beige is *dated*,” Anna sneered. “Steel-blue with pale grey—*that’s* modern. *Tech* style. It’d all harmonise… *if* you’d lose the laminate.”
Emily *hated* the cold palette. She said so, but Anna brushed her off. The second the designer left, Emily erupted.
“Tom, are you *mad*? Steel-blue?! This isn’t some office—it’s our *home*! I want *cosy*, not a freezer!”
“Em, she’s a *pro*,” Tom repeated.
“Stop that! If I hate it, why should I accept it?!”
“She’s realistic. Her ideas *work*.”
They fought—three days of silence. The builders stalled, caught between conflicting orders.
Finally, Emily snapped. “I told them—beige tomorrow.”
Tom hesitated. “But… steel-grey? I’ll call the foreman.”
Emily’s voice turned icy. “Fine. Do what you want. I’m taking Lily to my parents’. *You* live in your blue nightmare.”
Tom paled. “Em, don’t! They say the hardest part of renos is not getting *divorced*.”
“I *mean* it, Tom. I thought you wanted *cosy* too. If you love this, *enjoy* it.”
Tom raked a hand through his hair. “I—I don’t even know anymore. Anna kept going on about the CEO’s place…”
“Tom, *listen* to me!”
He exhaled. “Do it your way. I just want you happy.”
They fired Anna. Emily’s sketches guided the reno. When it was done, she realised:
“I’m *glad* for Anna. She made me see what I *truly* wanted.”
Everyone breathed easy. Renos are *brutal*—nerves fray, emotions run wild. But the *real* cost? The peace you nearly lose along the way.
