Julia’s Flat — and Not a Relative in Sight
Julia was scrubbing a plate when the doorbell rang. There, like a storm on a clear day, stood her mother-in-law.
“Hello, Jules,” cooed Nelly Evelyn with false sweetness. “Thought I’d pop round for a visit. Just dropping by!”
Julia ushered her into the kitchen, flicked the kettle on, and called to her husband:
“Victor, your mum’s here!”
Minutes later, they were all seated at the table. Nelly Evelyn stirred sugar into her tea, eyeing Julia with that peculiar squint—the one Julia had long since learned meant trouble brewing.
“You know, Vicky,” Nelly began, “Daniel’s asked little Emily to move in with him. Imagine! Before they’re even married!”
“Well, he’s in for it,” Victor snorted. “Our Emily’ll have him running in circles. Peace and quiet? Not a chance.”
“Don’t be daft!” Nelly retorted proudly. “Emily’s different. Modest, bright—not like some people…”
Julia caught the glance. The knife, as always, was meant for her. She pretended not to notice.
“And guess what else Daniel’s done?” Nelly raised a triumphant finger. “Buying her a flat! Can you believe it? As a wedding gift! Now that’s a proper man!”
Victor grimaced.
“Let’s see the paperwork first. Till then, I’m not buying it.”
“That’s what a real match looks like!” Nelly pressed on. “Meanwhile, your wife owns this place, and you’re not even on the deed.”
Julia left the room. Her chest tightened. The same old song—”sign half over,” “where’s the fairness,” “we’re family.” A year of marriage, and Nelly Evelyn still schemed for a slice of her son-in-law’s property.
Victor piled on too: laughed at by his mates, a bloke without a home. He’d bought the car, paid for the refurb, furnished the place—yet it was all hers.
“No one tricked you, Vic,” Julia would say. “You married me, not the flat. Or did you?”
He’d go quiet. Until his mother’s next visit.
When Victor’s domineering aunt dropped by, he spun tales.
“Yeah, we bought it. Mostly my money,” he declared smoothly.
Julia nearly choked on her tea. Lies poured like ale. She stayed silent—not for him, but for herself.
Then his mate Andrew swung round. Victor fluffed his feathers again:
“Come in, mate—make yourself at home. The flat’s ours, me and Julia’s!”
“Good on you!” Andrew beamed. “Married, got a place. And that motor of yours—top-notch!”
Julia watched, stunned. Where was the kind, honest lad she’d fallen for?
She packed a bag and left for her parents’.
“Mum, I can’t do it. I’m not his wife—I’m his bloody investment. He only wanted the flat…”
“Think it through, love. But that flat stays yours. Not an inch to them—you hear?”
Julia returned. Soon after, Nelly Evelyn barged in—no warning, hair wild, eyes wet.
“Vic, disaster! Daniel’s left Emily. Wedding’s off. She’s up to her neck in debt—car, clothes, phone…”
“What’s that got to do with us?” Victor floundered.
“We must help. Julia signs half the flat to you. You mortgage it, clear the debt. We’ll sort it after!”
Julia froze—then snapped back.
“Never. That flat was my parents’ gift. You won’t get a single brick of it!”
“Heartless cow!” Nelly shrieked.
Julia marched off but overheard mother and son whispering by the door.
“I tried, son. She won’t budge…”
“I’ll think of something else,” Victor muttered darkly.
Julia flung the door open:
“Think away! Scheme all you like! But you’ll never get this flat. Not a sliver. Want your own place? Work for it—like everyone else!”
The next day, Victor moved back to his mum’s.
Julia filed for divorce. Late—but better late than surrender a shred of what was hers. Because greed knows no bounds. But dignity? That’s all a person has.
