Julia was washing the dishes when the doorbell rang. Standing on the doorstep, like a bolt from the blue, was her mother-in-law.
“Hello, Julia dear,” said Nellie with false sweetness. “Thought I’d pop round for a visit. Just dropping by!”
Julia invited her into the kitchen, put the kettle on, and called out to her husband:
“Vic, your mum’s here!”
Within minutes, the whole family was gathered around the table. Nellie slowly stirred sugar into her tea, eyeing her daughter-in-law with a narrowed gaze that Julia had long learned meant trouble brewing.
“You know, Victor,” began Nellie, “Danny’s asked little Emily to move in with him. Can you believe it? Before the wedding!”
“Oh, he’s in for it,” Vic chuckled. “Our Emily will give him a run for his money. Peace and quiet? Forget about it.”
“You’re wrong!” Nellie countered proudly. “Emily’s different. She’s modest, clever—not like some people…”
Julia caught the sharp look. As always, the dig was aimed at her. She pretended not to notice.
“And guess what else Danny’s done?” Nellie raised a finger triumphantly. “He’s buying her a flat! For their wedding! Now that’s a real man!”
Victor grimaced.
“Let’s see if he actually does it. I won’t believe it till I see the paperwork.”
“That’s what a proper choice looks like!” Nellie pressed on. “Meanwhile, you’ve got a wife with a flat, and you’re not even on the deed.”
Julia left the room, her chest tight. The same old tune—about “signing half over,” “what’s fair,” and “family should share.” A year into their marriage, and Nellie still tried to claw at their home.
Victor had started echoing her, whining that his mates ribbed him—a man without property. He’d bought the car, paid for the renovations, the furniture—yet it was all “hers.”
“No one tricked you, Vic,” Julia would say. “You married me, not the flat. Or did you?”
He’d clam up—until his mum’s next visit.
When Vic’s domineering aunt dropped by, he spun a tale.
“Yeah, we bought the place. Mostly with my money,” he declared.
Julia nearly choked on her tea. The lies flowed freely. She held her tongue—not for him, but for herself.
Then his mate Andy came round. Vic puffed up again:
“Make yourself at home, mate! It’s our place—mine and Julia’s!”
“Good on you!” Andy grinned. “Married, got a flat. And that car of yours is top-notch!”
Julia watched, stunned. Where was the kind, down-to-earth bloke she’d fallen for?
She packed a bag and left for her parents’.
“Mum, I can’t do this anymore. I feel like an investor, not a wife. He only married me for the flat…”
“Think it through, love. But don’t sign a thing—not an inch!”
Julia returned. Soon after, Nellie turned up unannounced, dishevelled, tears in her eyes.
“Victor, disaster! Danny’s left Emily. The wedding’s off. She’s got loans—car, clothes, phone…”
“What’s that got to do with us?” Vic spluttered.
“We’ve got to help. Julia can put half the flat in your name—you’ll remortgage, pay the debt. We’ll sort it later!”
Julia froze—then snapped back.
“Never! This flat was a gift from my parents. You won’t get a single percent!”
“Heartless!” Nellie shrieked.
Julia retreated but overheard mother and son whispering by the door.
“I tried, son. She won’t budge…”
“I’ll think of something,” Vic muttered darkly.
Julia flung the door open.
“Think all you like! But know this—you won’t get the flat. Not a scrap. Want your own? 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 surrendering what was hers. Because greed never ends—but self-respect is non-negotiable.
