After our wedding, life between my wife and me couldnt have been better. We married with the intention of living with her parents for a while. Meanwhile, my own parents were relocating to the coast and had sold their flat, dividing the money between me and my sister. With those funds, and a little extra from my father-in-law, we managed to buy a spacious one-bedroom flat in London. We put up a partition to create two rooms, thinking one would be for a childbut somehow, it never happened.
At first, we simply didnt want one. Then our careers took off, leaving no room for it. Eventually, we realised it just wasnt in the cardsmy wife refused to see a doctor, and I wasnt keen either. We were happy as we were, neither of us worrying too much about whod bring us a glass of water in our old age. Our friends, already weighed down by children and drowning in debt, didnt seem particularly joyful either. So we decided, in the end, that happiness didnt have to look like parenthoodnot when life had already shaped itself this way.
By the time we turned thirty-three, we invested in a small apartment block. The sum wasnt enormous, but we took the risk despite warnings. By thirty-seven, we had a flat ready to move into. We gave it a light refurbishmentjust enough to make it perfect. My wife called it our safety netfor children, if they ever came, or for our nieces and nephews if they didnt.
For now, we decided to rent it out. We tried handling it ourselves, without an agent, and in our eagerness, we mentioned it to friends, hoping theyd suggest places to advertise. Then came the awkward questioncould *they* move in? Theyd been stuck in run-down rentals for years, and here was a fresh, newly done-up place. Maybe even with a *discount*.
Our mistake was telling them at all. We hadnt expected some would ask.
*”Its only one bedroomyour familys too big,”* my wife tried gently.
*”So? Were in a one-bed now. Your photos make it look bigger anyway.”*
*”But its brand new, and youve got kidsand the cat…”*
*”Oh, so now were just a pair of wreckers, are we?”*
We said wed think about it, though I already knew my answer. Id been to their placeit was chaos. In the end, my wife left it to me to call and decline, offering flimsy excuses.
The response was brutal:
*”Youve got a second flat now, and one day your parents will die and leave you theirs, but still, its never enough for you, is it? Youll rot in those empty flatsno kids, no friends, no joy in your lives!”*
Was that fair? We owed them nothing. Their choicestheir children, their lack of supportwerent our problem. Everyone lives as they please, so why couldnt we rent to a stranger at full price instead of giving mates rates and favours?
