Julie’s Flat—and No Relatives
Julie was washing the dishes when the doorbell rang. There, standing on the doorstep like a bolt from the blue, was her mother-in-law.
“Hello, Julie dear,” said Nellie with forced sweetness. “Thought I’d pop in for a visit. Just dropping by!”
Julie invited her into the kitchen, put the kettle on, and called out to her husband,
“Victor, your mum’s here!”
Minutes later, they were all seated at the table. Nellie stirred sugar into her tea, eyeing her daughter-in-law with that familiar squint Julie had long learned meant trouble brewing.
“You know, Victor,” Nellie began, “Derek’s asked Emily to move in with him. Can you believe it? Before the wedding!”
“He’s in for it now,” Victor chuckled. “Our Emily won’t make it easy. He won’t know peace, that’s for sure!”
“You’re wrong!” Nellie shot back proudly. “Emily’s different. She’s modest, clever—not like some people…”
Julie caught the pointed glance. The jab was meant for her, as always. She pretended not to notice.
“And guess what else Derek’s done?” Nellie raised a triumphant finger. “He’s buying her a flat! For the wedding! Now that’s a real man!”
Victor scoffed.
“We’ll see about that. I won’t believe it till I see the papers.”
“That’s what I call a proper choice!” Nellie pressed on. “Meanwhile, your wife owns this place, and you’re not even on the deed.”
Julie left the room, her chest tight. Same old tune—”sign half over,” “where’s the fairness,” “we’re family.” A year of marriage, and Nellie still schemed for a slice of her flat.
Victor took up the chorus too—his mates ribbing him, a bloke without property. He’d bought the car, paid for the renovation, the furniture—yet nothing was his.
“No one tricked you, Victor,” Julie would say. “You married me, not the flat. Or did you?”
He’d shut up—until his mum’s next visit.
When Victor’s domineering aunt dropped by, he spun tales.
“Yeah, we bought the place. Mostly with my money,” he declared.
Julie nearly choked on her tea. The lies flowed freely. She stayed silent—not for him, but for herself.
Then his mate Andy came over. Victor puffed up again.
“Make yourself at home, mate. This is ours, mine and Julie’s!”
“Good on you!” Andy grinned. “Married and got a place. And that car of yours is mint!”
Julie watched, stunned. Where was the kind, easygoing bloke she’d fallen for?
She packed a bag and went to her parents.
“Mum, I can’t do this anymore. I’m not his wife—just his investment. He only married me for the flat.”
“Think it through, love. But that flat stays yours, yeah? Not a single brick!”
Julie returned. Soon after, Nellie barged in—unannounced, dishevelled, tearful.
“Victor, it’s awful! Derek left Emily. No wedding now. She’s got loans—car, clothes, phone…”
“What’s that got to do with us?” Victor blinked.
“We have to help. Julie should put you on the deed. Get a mortgage, pay off the debt. We’ll pay it back after!”
Julie froze. Then snapped back.
“Never. This flat was a gift from my parents. You won’t get a penny of it!”
“Heartless!” Nellie shrieked.
Julie stormed off but overheard the whispers at the door.
“I tried, love. But she won’t budge…”
“I’ll think of something,” Victor muttered.
Julie flung the door open.
“Think away! But know this—you’ll never get this flat. Not one brick. Want your own? Work for it, like everyone else!”
The next day, Victor moved back to his mum’s.
Julie filed for divorce. Late, but better late than losing everything. Because greed has no limits—but self-respect is priceless.
