When Our Naive Children Chose to Play at Independence, They Ended Up in Debt and Lost Their Flat When our children got married, we—both sets of parents—decided to help them get settled with a home. My husband and I had some savings, as did my in-laws. Pooling our resources, we had enough for a small flat. We wanted to buy it outright for the kids, but they insisted on doing it themselves to prove their independence. Some time later, we discovered they had indeed bought a flat—one with three bedrooms. And where did they get the money? They took out a bank loan. And who was going to pay the mortgage? They assured us they could afford it. Soon after, they wanted a car. Since the flat was far from work and public transport was inconvenient, they purchased a brand new car from the showroom—again on credit—even though we suggested a second-hand one. Undeterred, they insisted they were self-sufficient and knew what was best. Their next wish was to have a baby, preferably born abroad to obtain foreign citizenship. Yet again, they took out a loan to ensure a comfortable birth and round-the-clock care from the doctor. The baby was born. Then they wanted to redecorate the nursery, taking another loan to do so. And when we asked who’d pay for it, they always replied: “We will, we’re independent.” Then misfortune struck—my son-in-law was made redundant, and my daughter was on maternity leave. No more income. How to pay off all these loans? They asked us to sell our holiday cottage outside of town, which we reluctantly did just to keep them from defaulting. Sadly, even that wasn’t enough. In the end, they had to sell the flat and eventually the car as well, moving in with our in-laws. Now they complain they have nothing of their own—of course, because they didn’t listen. The loans still aren’t paid off; it’ll take years yet. Only sorrow and tears remain.

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 3 minViews 4

Back in those days, when our children married, we parents, on both sides, wished only to lend a helping hand so they might start their life together on steadier ground. My husband and I had some savings put aside, as did our in-laws. We pooled our resources, and soon found we had enough for a modest little flat. Our intention was to purchase it outright for the newlyweds, but the children, brimming with pride and notions of self-reliance, insisted theyd handle it themselves.

Some months passed, and word reached us they had, indeed, bought a flat only it wasnt a two-room place as we had envisioned, but a three-bedroom, quite beyond what we thought necessary for a young couple. And where had they found the funds? Not from their own reserves, but from a bank a hefty mortgage. When asked about the repayments, our daughter and her husband assured us they were more than capable and wished to manage without help.

Not long after, they set their sights on a new car, arguing the flat was dreadfully far from work and the buses entirely inconvenient. Off they went and bought a motor straight from the showroom, again on finance. We did try to encourage them towards something second-hand, more sensible, but they would hear none of it: in their eyes, independence meant having the latest and best.

Then came talk of starting a family and with that, a wish for their child to be born abroad, securing both a brighter future and an extra passport besides. Another loan followed, to ensure our granddaughter would be born in comfort, with a private doctor attending, just as her parents desired.

When at last the baby arrived, attention turned to refurbishing the nursery. One more loan, one more promise: Were managing on our own you neednt worry. But misfortune is no respecter of pride. Our son-in-law lost his job, and our daughter was on maternity leave. Suddenly, the money had run dry. With more debt mounting than they could meet, they came to us in distress, asking that we sell our little cottage in the countryside to keep them afloat. We dreaded the thought, but could not refuse. It wasnt enough, in the end.

In time, the flat was lost, the car sold off. With little choice left, our children moved in with their in-laws. Now, with heavy hearts, they lament not having a place to call their own. All their labours for independence have left them empty-handed, and still the debts linger, waiting to be paid off. The years since have been marked only by hardship and tears, regret hanging over all that youthful pride.

Jack and Mary: A Countryside Love Story with a Twist of Fate Jack had never wanted to leave his village for the city. He loved the open spaces, the river, the fields and woods, and the camaraderie of his neighbours. He decided to become a farmer, raising pigs to sell the meat, and if he got lucky, to expand his business. He dreamed of building a big house; he had a car—old and modest for now—and had invested the money from selling his gran’s house into the business. Jack had one cherished dream: to marry Mary and make her the lady of his new house. They were already seeing each other, and Mary could see Jack’s business hadn’t taken off just yet, nor did he have big money, and the house was only just going up. But Mary was a real beauty. She never planned to chase success on her own. “That’s what beauty’s for—I deserve a husband who’ll provide, I only need to find someone who’ll take care of me. My looks are worth a lot,” she told her girlfriends. “Jack’s building a house, and he’s got a car,” said her friend Lucy, “You just have to wait, he might not take off right away.” “But I want it all, and I want it now,” Mary pouted, “Who knows when Jack will make it? He’s got no money.” Jack loved Mary, but he knew her feelings weren’t as deep as his. Still, he hoped in time she’d grow to love him. Things might have turned out all right, if it weren’t for Tom showing up in their village. Tom and his mate were visiting Tom’s nan for the holidays. He looked down his nose at the local girls, bored at the village dance, until the stunning Mary appeared. At first, Mary ignored the newcomer, but when she learned that Tom came from a wealthy family—his dad was an influential councilman in the city—she shifted her attention quickly. Tom, older than Mary and experienced with women, knew how to charm her, bringing impressive bouquets—flowers never sold in the village, ordered by special delivery. Jack saw the flowers and fumed. “Don’t take bouquets from him, why are you trying to upset me?” But Mary simply laughed. “They’re just flowers! What’s the big deal?” Jack confronted Tom: “Don’t give Mary your flowers, she’s my girl, and I have plans for her!” But Tom just shrugged it off. The two nearly came to blows, and Jack’s friends pulled them apart. After that, things soured between Jack and Mary; she avoided him, and he felt hurt. Mary knew Tom was only in the village for a month, but she began plotting to win him over and head to the city—there was nothing left for her in the village. She moved quickly. Getting Tom alone at her house was easy enough when her parents were away. She timed things perfectly so her folks would find them together. She threw on a dressing gown, and Tom barely managed to get his trousers on before he was caught. “What’s going on here?” her father barked. Mary dropped her gaze. Tom shuffled awkwardly. “Well, Tom, you have to marry our daughter now—otherwise, you’ll answer to me. Get in the next room.” What was said is anyone’s guess, but the next day Tom and Mary went to register their marriage, driven by her dad while her mum helped them pack to move to the city. The news spread through the village at lightning speed. Jack was heartbroken, though he tried not to show it. Tom cursed himself. “Why did I even come out here? She’s clever and calculating, not simple at all.” But Mary dreamed of happiness and a glamorous life in the city. “I’ll love him, give him children—he’ll thank his lucky stars. But what will his parents think of me?” To her surprise, Tom’s parents were delighted. They were tired of the superficial city girls Tom brought home who only wanted money. Mary was different—homely, practical, she’d look after their son. “Come in, Mary, make yourself at home,” said Tom’s mum, Anna. His dad, Michael, smiled. Mary put in real effort to be a good wife. Their big four-bedroom flat was comfortable, and his parents were kind. Tom started to think maybe Mary wasn’t so calculating after all. “She certainly trapped me into marriage, but she seems sincere—even if I still don’t believe we’ll be happy together,” thought Tom. “She asks no awkward questions, probably feels bad, but she has no intention of going back to the village.” Tom started lining up some fun after the wedding—he had plenty of friends in the city. But Mary shocked everyone at dinner one evening: “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby…” “Congratulations, Mary! We’ve been waiting for grandchildren,” said Anna, while Tom realised that talking about bad timing was pointless now. The wedding followed, and Tom’s parents gave them a furnished flat. Afterward, Mary saw that Tom wasn’t thrilled about becoming a dad. “He’ll change once the baby’s here,” she told herself. She didn’t understand that Tom’s heart wasn’t in it. Tom started staying out late, telling Mary he was away on business trips. She believed him, not dreaming what he was really up to. She never told his parents that her husband was never home. She cooked, cleaned, and waited. She missed the village, her friends, her parents—more and more she thought of Jack. Was this really the right choice? When asked if he loved her, Tom dodged the question. Anna saw her daughter-in-law was unhappy and knew her son wasn’t the best husband. The birth of their son brought joy to the family. Tom was touched at first, but soon the crying, nappies, and sleepless nights got on his nerves. Mary struggled to keep up, no longer able to cook special meals, while Tom wanted to escape. He noticed most of his girlfriends had no time for him now. “What’s the point of a married man?” He told no one about his wife—she was from the country and had no education. “What job could she possibly get once our son is older? I don’t want my wife working as a cleaner or on a market stall. It’d ruin our family’s reputation. I’ll have to work for us alone. Probably alimony would be cheaper.” Tom had a steady lover, Kate—she had her own flat, money, and no desire for kids. With her, he could let off steam—partying, drinking, trips away. “Kate, if only you knew how fed up I am with the chaos at home. I don’t love my wife, my son irritates me. Sure, Mary’s pretty, but she’s a country girl—how can I take her anywhere with her village ways?” Mary realised her dream of family life with Tom was over. She knew he had someone else—he came home smelling of someone else’s perfume, sometimes with lipstick marks. He barely looked at their son, shouted at her, even raised his hand. She called her mother to complain, but was told: “We never forced you to marry Tom. That was your decision. We thought you’d marry Jack. You made your choice—now live with it. When you’re done, come back for good, but don’t expect to return halfway.” Mary was crushed. She checked Tom’s phone while he slept—and what she read between him and Kate left her speechless. She turned to her mother-in-law who warned: “If you ever think about divorce, remember—we could take your son. You know what connections my husband has. Whatever kind of father Tom is, he’s still the real dad, and he can give your child more than you can with no job or education.” Their son was teething with a fever. Tom was fed up with the crying, desperate to get to Kate. He messaged that he’d leave as soon as the baby was quiet and Mary was asleep. Kate replied: “Just give them a sleeping pill, they’ll be out in no time—the one I gave you.” Terrified, Mary saw the message. Would he really drug them? While Tom showered, she phoned Jack and explained. “I’ll come pick you up,” he said. “Tom’s parents threaten to take my son.” “They’re just scaring you,” Jack reassured her. “Try to stay calm. Let your son sleep, and when Tom leaves, call me. I’ll wait nearby.” Mary rocked her son to sleep, then lay down next to him, pretending to doze. She heard Tom peek in, then leave. As soon as he was gone, she packed a bag and called Jack. He was there swiftly and took her and the baby home with him. When Tom returned the next evening, his wife and son were gone. He phoned his parents. “No, son, Mary’s not here. Has she run off? I’ll call the police,” Anna worried. “Mum, don’t—don’t call them. I’m glad she left. I’m sick of both of them. Please, Mum,” he begged until finally she agreed. Time passed. Jack and Mary married after her divorce. They lived in a big house and were expecting another child. At last, Mary realised Jack was her true happiness.

A Chaotic Closet, Piles of Unironed Clothes, and Sour Soup in the Fridge—This Is Our Home. When I Tried to Gently Talk with My Wife About It, I Ended Up Accused Instead I Fell in Love with Mary at First Sight—Completely Smitten by Her Beauty and Charm, I Thought I Was the Luckiest Man Alive. She Was Smart, Attractive, and Immaculately Clean, So I Proposed Without Hesitation. When We Moved In Together, Mary Made It Clear She Didn’t Like Housework, Preferring to Focus on Her Career and Split Chores Evenly. That Seemed Fair to Me, So I Agreed—Unaware of What the Future Held. At First, We Managed, but Six Months Later Nothing Went as Planned. Mary’s Job Hopes Didn’t Pan Out—She Was Stuck in a Part-Time, Unstable Position, Spending Her Earnings on Herself While I Worked Relentlessly All Day. Still, Mary Strictly Remembered the ‘Equal’ Division of Labour, Sometimes Ignoring Her Share. Her Enthusiasm Faded, and Soon the House Was Overrun with Clutter and Unironed Laundry. To My Shock, She Blamed Me, Saying I Should Do More to Help, Even Though We’d Agreed on Fairly Sharing Everything. I Struggled to Juggle Work and Keeping the House Together, Hurt That the Responsibility Had Fallen on Me. I Hoped Things Would Improve After Our Baby’s Birth, Thinking Mary Would Take Care of the Home While on Maternity Leave—But It Only Got Worse. Sometimes I Wonder If I’d Be Better Off Without My Wife, Especially with Arguments Becoming Daily Life. I Try to Empathise with Her Point of View, But I Can’t Shake the Feeling That My Own Needs Are Ignored. I Work Hard at the Office and at Home, Longing for a Moment’s Rest. Now I’m Left Questioning What Mary Does All Day During Maternity Leave—Why Can’t She Make Dinner or Tidy Up When Our Two-Month-Old Sleeps Most of the Time? Sometimes I Think I Could Handle the Housework If Our Roles Were Reversed. I Worry What Will Happen If We Have Another Child. I’m Committed to Equality and Mutual Support, but It Feels Like Mary Finds That Concept Difficult to Grasp. I Love My Child and Don’t Want to Ruin Our Family, But I’m at My Wit’s End—How Can I Keep Going Like This? Whose Side Are You On?