We let them stay for a year, and now we can’t get them out: our daughter-in-law is pregnant, and our son won’t say a word.
A year and a half ago, our only son, James, got married. His wife, Emily, seemed lovely—quiet, kind, no trouble at all. After the wedding, they moved in with us. My husband and I have a spacious three-bedroom flat in the heart of London. Things were peaceful—we worked, they worked.
But within months, Emily started dropping hints about wanting their own place. She talked about independence, needing space—all that. We didn’t argue. We happened to own a one-bedroom flat we’d bought as an investment. It brought in steady rent, money we were setting aside for retirement since our pensions wouldn’t be enough.
We sat down, talked it over, and agreed: they could live there rent-free for exactly one year. No extensions. They were overjoyed. Promised they’d save up for a mortgage deposit by then. No kids yet, they said—just wanted to enjoy life first.
We were happy to help. But the moment they moved in, it was nothing but designer clothes, fancy restaurants, holiday after holiday. We gently suggested saving, but they’d just shrug: *”We’re young—let us live a little!”*
The year passed. We expected them to move out so we could rent the flat again. Then—out of nowhere—Emily’s pregnant. Not just early on, either. Second trimester.
I called James, asked when they’d be leaving. His answer was vague: *”Mum, come on… Emily’s expecting—she shouldn’t be stressed.”* The next day, Emily showed up at our door in tears, shouting:
*”You’d really throw us out with a baby? Have you no heart?”*
I nearly lost it.
*”Throw you out? You’ve got our flat and Emily’s parents’ three-bedroom house in Manchester! Why not live there? You’re grown adults. We agreed—one year. We’ve lost over thirty thousand pounds in rent, money we planned to give you for your deposit. Instead, you blew it all on clothes and trips. And now you dare call us bad parents?”*
I gave them an ultimatum: one more month, then out. They nodded. Two weeks later? Nothing. No viewings, no talk of moving. Just this silent hope in their eyes: *”Maybe they’ll change their minds.”*
My husband and I don’t know what to do. We sit up at night, discussing options, but it all comes back to one thing—we should’ve been firmer from the start.
I’m not even angry anymore. Just disappointed. James won’t stand up for us—just quietly backs his wife. Emily avoids me like I’m the enemy. We only wanted to help. Give them a start. Instead, we’ve got resentment, guilt, and a flat we might never get back.
Because legally, they’re registered there. And morally? The guilt weighs heavier. Do we even have the right to force them out now, with a baby on the way?
Our kindness has trapped us. And while we stay silent, they stay. But I know one thing—we can’t stay silent much longer.
