Julia’s Flat—and No Relatives
Julia was washing dishes when the doorbell rang. There, as unexpected as a storm on a clear day, stood her mother-in-law.
“Hello, Julie dear,” said Nellie Yuryevna with false sweetness. “I thought I’d pay you a visit. Just dropping by!”
Julia invited her into the kitchen, put the kettle on, and called to her husband:
“Vic, your mother’s here!”
A few minutes later, they were all gathered at the table. The mother-in-law stirred sugar into her tea with deliberate slowness, eyeing Julia with that familiar squint—one she’d learned to recognize as the precursor to manipulation.
“You know, Vic,” Nellie began, “Danny’s asked little Ellie to move in with him. Can you believe it? Before the wedding!”
“Serves him right,” Vic chuckled. “Our Ellie will give him hell. Peaceful living? Not a chance.”
“You’re wrong!” Nellie retorted proudly. “Ellie’s different. She’s modest, clever—not like some…”
Julia caught the glance. The stone, as always, was aimed at her. Once again, she pretended not to notice.
“And do you know what else Danny’s done?” Nellie raised a triumphant finger. “He’s giving her a flat! Imagine—a wedding gift! Now that’s a real man!”
Victor winced.
“We’ll see what he actually gives. I won’t believe it until I see the papers.”
“That’s what happens when you make the right choice!” Nellie pressed on. “And you—married to a woman with a flat, yet your name’s not even on the deeds.”
Julia left the room. Her chest tightened. The same old tune—”put his name on it,” “where’s the fairness,” “we’re family.” They’d been married a year, and all that time, Nellie had been angling for a piece of her son’s wife’s property.
Vic started pushing too—claiming he was a laughingstock, a man with no flat of his own. He’d bought the car, paid for the renovations, furnished the place—yet it was all “hers.”
“Nobody tricked you, Vic,” Julia would reply. “You didn’t marry the flat—you married me. Or did you?”
He’d fall silent. Until the next visit from his mother.
When Vic’s domineering aunt came by, he spun tales without hesitation.
“Yeah, we bought the flat. Mostly with my money,” he declared confidently.
Julia nearly choked on her tea. The lies flowed freely. She stayed quiet—not for him, but for herself.
Then his friend Andy dropped in, and Vic puffed himself up again.
“Make yourself at home—consider it ours, mine and Julia’s!”
“Good on you!” Andy grinned. “Married, got a flat—and that motor of yours is top-notch!”
Julia watched in disbelief. Where was the kind, simple man she’d once known?
She packed her things and left for her parents’.
“Mum, I can’t do this anymore. I don’t feel like a wife—I feel like an investment. He only married me for the flat…”
“Think it through, love. But that flat—don’t give an inch, you hear me? Not an inch!”
Julia returned. And soon enough, Nellie arrived unannounced—dishevelled, desperate, tears in her eyes.
“Vic, it’s terrible! Danny’s left Ellie. The wedding’s off. And she’s taken out loans—for clothes, a car, a phone…”
“And what’s that got to do with us?” Vic faltered.
“We have to help. Have Julia put your name on the deeds. You’ll get a loan, pay off the debt—we’ll settle it later!”
Julia froze—then found her voice.
“Never. That flat was a gift from my parents. You won’t get a single pound of it!”
“Heartless!” Nellie shrieked.
Julia retreated to the bedroom but heard them whispering by the door.
“I tried, son. But she won’t budge…”
“I’ll think of something else,” Vic muttered darkly.
Julia flung the door open.
“Think away! Scheme all you like! Just know this—you’ll never get that flat. Not a crumb. If you want your own place, work for it—like everyone else!” The next day, Vic moved back in with his mother.
Julia filed for divorce. Late—but better late than handing them everything. Because greed has no limits. But dignity? That’s all a person truly owns.
