My Mother-in-Law Has Decided to Move Into My Flat and Give Hers to My Sister-in-Law – Even Though I Paid For Our Place and My Husband Didn’t Contribute a Penny

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 3 min

My mother-in-law has decided to move into my flat and give her own to my daughter.

My wife was raised in a large, close-knit English family. Her mother, Margaret, kept having children until she finally had her daughter. An odd strategy, but it isnt my place to judge.

Family Affairs

When I married, I thought myself lucky. Catherine seemed responsible, brave, and steadfastshe understood the meaning of family. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to move far from her mother or younger sister. Her mother didnt seem especially close to her sons, but her daughters happiness always came first.

Her sister, Emily, was ten years old when I met her. At first, I wasnt bothered, but after a few years things changed. She disliked studying, kept dubious company, and relied on my wife to sort out all her difficulties. Emily could phone her in the dead of night for help.

I hoped Emily would mature, get married, and sort herself out. But that wasnt to be. When Emily decided to tie the knot, Margaret made sure all her sons contributed towards the wedding, since she hadn’t any money herself. The groom was rather strapped for cash, so the young couple had to move in with Margaret.

One child, then another arrived Eventually, Margaret realised that living all together wasnt sustainable. She soon hit upon a brilliant solutionshe would move into our flat, giving up her own home to Emily. But does it make sense, since I bought our flat with my own money and Catherine never paid a penny? Intriguingly, Catherine seems perfectly happy with all this; she says, Mum will be a great help.

We have a two-bedroom flat. I don’t fancy giving up my own comfort and space to share it with anyone else. Margaret is firmly convinced were obliged to take her in, since Catherine is the eldest and tradition dictates she should care for her parents.

I love my wifedivorce isnt an option Id ever consider. But how can I help her see sense? How do I explain that living with her mother is utter misery for me? If anyone has any wise advice, I could certainly do with it. Sometimes I think the English are a reserved lot, always reluctant to cause a fussbut perhaps this time, I need to speak up for myself before I lose my peace of mind altogether.

Lesson learned: If I don’t lay down my boundaries, no one else will. In a house, as in life, everyone needs their own room to breathe.

Do I Remember? I Can’t Forget! “Polly, we need to talk… Remember my illegitimate daughter, Nancy?” My husband spoke in riddles, making me uneasy. “Hmm… Do I remember? I could never forget! Why?” I sat down, bracing myself for trouble. He hesitated. “Nancy is begging us to take her daughter—my granddaughter.” “Why on earth, Alex? Where’s Nancy’s husband—living in dreamland?” Now I was intrigued. Alex explained: “Nancy doesn’t have long left. Never had a husband. Her mother married an American and moved to the States—massive falling out, no contact. No other family. That’s why she’s asking…” Alex looked embarrassed. “So?” I pressed. “What are you going to do?” I already knew my answer. “I’m asking you, Polly. Whatever you say, we’ll do,” Alex finally met my gaze. “Very clever—you sowed your wild oats, and now, Polly, you want me to take responsibility for someone else’s child? Is that right?” I was furious at his weakness. “Polly, we’re a family. We decide together,” Alex protested. “Oh! Now you remember. But when you were fooling around, did you ask my advice? I’m your wife!” I burst into tears and left the room. …Back in school, I dated my classmate, Val, but when new boy Alex showed up, I forgot everyone else. We became inseparable; within a week, I was in love. When Alex was drafted into the army, I cried my eyes out on the train platform. For a year, we wrote letters—until he confessed he’d met someone else. By then, I was already pregnant, thanks to Alex’s fleeting promises. Old Val stepped up and helped; truth be told, we became close. I never expected to see Alex again—until he turned up at my door, and Val had to let him in. After some awkwardness, Alex said, “I’ve come back for you, Polly. Will you have me?” I let him back. My son needed his father—not just a stepdad. Val moved on, too, and found happiness of his own. Years passed. Alex could never quite love our son as a father should—certain he was Val’s child. Meanwhile, Alex strayed constantly, but I couldn’t stop loving him. The one who loves is always happily oblivious. I forgave everything. When we argued and Alex left, months later, I tracked him down at his new girlfriend’s flat. Turns out she had his daughter, Nancy. I always blamed myself for driving him away then—perhaps that other woman wouldn’t have swooped in if I hadn’t sent Alex away. We never mentioned Nancy. I pretended her existence didn’t threaten our family. With time, Alex settled down. Our son married young and gave us three lovely grandchildren. Then, out of the blue, Nancy resurfaced, asking us to take in her little daughter. Hard questions followed—how to explain her to our son, who never knew about his father’s past? In the end, we became guardians to five-year-old Alice. Nancy died at thirty—her journey over. Alex spoke honestly to our son, who said, “What’s past is past. The girl is family—she belongs with us.” We breathed easier, grateful for our kind-hearted son. Now Alice is sixteen, adores Granddad Alex, shares secrets with him, and calls me Nan—saying she’s the spitting image of me in my youth. And I can’t help but agree…

Winter had wrapped Andrew’s garden in a soft blanket of snow, but his loyal dog Duke, a giant German Shepherd, was acting strangely. Instead of curling up in the large kennel Andrew had lovingly built for him last summer, Duke stubbornly refused to sleep inside, choosing instead to lie out in the snow. Andrew watched from the window, his heart tightening—Duke had never behaved like this before. Every morning, as Andrew stepped outside, he noticed how Duke eyed him warily. Whenever Andrew approached the kennel, the dog would position himself protectively between him and the entrance, growling softly and staring up as if to plead, “Please, don’t go in there.” Such odd behavior from his longtime friend troubled Andrew deeply—what was his faithful companion hiding? Determined to uncover the truth, Andrew crafted a little plan—tempting Duke into the kitchen with a juicy steak. While the dog, locked inside, barked fiercely at the window, Andrew returned to the kennel and knelt to peer inside. His heart nearly stopped as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw something that left him frozen in shock… …Inside, tucked under a blanket, was a tiny kitten—dirty, frozen, and barely breathing. Its eyes flickered weakly open, its body shivering with cold. Somewhere, Duke had found it, and instead of chasing it off or leaving it to its fate, had given it shelter. Duke slept outside so he wouldn’t frighten the kitten, guarding the entrance as if protecting hidden treasure. Andrew held his breath. He reached out gently, gathered the little creature in his arms, and pressed it to his chest. Instantly, Duke ran over and nestled beside his shoulder—not growling, but calm and ready to help. “You’re a good boy, Duke…” Andrew whispered, hugging the kitten. “Better than most people.” From that day on, there were no longer just two friends living in the garden, but three. And the kennel Andrew had built with so much care found new purpose—a little home for rescued souls.