When my son and his wife moved in with me, I thought it would bring our family closer together. But soon, my daughter-in-law started changing everything in my house: the furniture, the walls, even the rules. I tried to believe she didn’t mean any harm, until I discovered what she had really been planning all along.
When you have children, they become the center of your world forever. No matter how old they get or how far they go, being a mother never ends. I told myself I’d get used to the silence when they grew up, but I never really did.
When you have children, they become the center of your world forever.
I had two children: Emily and Mark. Emily lived in another city, called whenever she could, and was always affectionate.
Mark, however, disappeared into his marriage. I tried not to take it personally, but deep down I blamed his wife, Sophie.
From the first time we met, she seemed polite but distant.
I had two children: Emily and Mark.
I brought her little gifts, complimented her cooking, offered to help with her wedding, but she never softened. I didn’t know why. I never wanted to be the kind of mother-in-law people complain about. I just wanted to be close to my son.
Now the house that used to be overflowing with noise seemed too big. I even thought about getting a dog, just to have someone waiting for me.
My only company was my young neighbor, Chloe, who stopped by twice a week to help me with errands and chat. Without her, I’d probably lose my mind.
I never wanted to be the kind of mother-in-law that people complain about.
Then one night, my phone rang and everything changed. When I saw Mark’s name on the screen, I froze. He hadn’t called me in months.
“Mom,” she said carefully.
“Mark! Everything alright?”
He hadn’t called me for months.
“Yes, everything’s fine. Listen, Sophie and I were thinking… maybe we could stay with you for a while.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“Only until we buy our own house. Rent is expensive, and this would help us save money.”
“Will you stay with me?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Of course! They can move whenever they want.”
He seemed surprised. “Thank you, Mom. That means a lot.”
After hanging up, I sat in the quiet house, smiling. Maybe this was finally my chance to reconnect with him, maybe even with Sophie.
“They can move whenever they want.”
All week I cleaned and prepared the guest room. I bought new bedding, towels, and even baked Mark’s favorite apple pie.
When they arrived, I stayed on the porch watching the movers carry the boxes inside.
Mark seemed happy to be home; Sophie, as always, didn’t seem impressed. Her eyes scanned the house as if she were judging every corner.
I spent the whole week cleaning and preparing the guest room.
“I thought we could have dinner together,” I said when everything was unpacked.
“It smells good,” said Mark, smiling wearily.
Sophie nodded, looking at the old furniture and wallpaper. “You left everything the same.”
“I thought we could have dinner together”
“I like things this way,” I said. “I feel at home.”
“Of course,” she replied, again in that polite tone.
After dinner, I caught her whispering something to Mark, her eyes still scanning the living room.
“I feel right at home.”
She smiled when she realized he was looking at her, but there was something calculating behind that smile.
I told myself not to overthink it. Maybe I just needed time to adjust. Maybe living together would help us understand each other.
I couldn’t imagine how wrong I was.
I told myself not to overthink it
At first, the changes were small: a new vase, different plates, new curtains. I told myself not to overthink it. Maybe Sophie just wanted to help, to make the place feel more welcoming.
But then it didn’t stop.
My old dishes disappeared, the floral cushions disappeared, a modern rug appeared that clashed with everything.
Perhaps Sophie just wanted to help.
I tried to stay positive. “You have a good eye,” I told her once. “Maybe we could go shopping together?”
She chuckled softly. “How kind, but I think I’ve got you covered. You probably wouldn’t know what’s in style now.”
His words hurt me, though I pretended not to care. Mark heard everything and remained silent, as always.
“You probably wouldn’t know what’s fashionable now.”
A week later, I returned home from the supermarket and found Sophie painting the living room walls beige. The smell hit me so strongly that I had to open all the windows.
“Could you at least let me know next time?” I said. “This smell makes me dizzy.”
“It’s not toxic,” Sophie said. “You’ll survive.”
“Could you at least let me know next time?”
Mark was sitting on the sofa. “Just try to make things prettier, Mom,” he murmured.
“For whom?” I asked, but he didn’t answer.
The next day, two delivery men brought a new sofa without telling me anything.
“Just try to make things prettier, Mom.”
The old one, the one he had bought when Mark was ten years old and in which he fell asleep every Christmas Eve, had disappeared.
He was gone.
I was stunned as Sophie handed them cash and smiled.
“What happened to my sofa?” I asked.
He was gone
“It was falling apart,” he said indifferently. “This one looks better. Don’t you think it makes the room look bigger?”
“You could have at least asked me before,” I said.
She shrugged. “Mark and I want you to feel comfortable here, and the house needed an update. You should be glad we’re investing our money in it.”
“This one looks better”
That part confused me the most. Why were they spending their savings redecorating my house when they said they were trying to buy their own?
The air in the house grew heavier every day.
Sophie was always around, changing something, rearranging shelves, moving my photos, throwing away little things I’d had for years. Every trace of my life seemed to slowly disappear.
Why were they spending their savings redecorating my house when they said they were trying to buy their own?
Then one afternoon, Chloe returned from her vacation and promised to come over for tea. I was really looking forward to seeing her.
Someone who wouldn’t talk to me like I was an old piece of furniture.
When the doorbell rang, I was still in the kitchen. Before I even reached the door, I heard Sophie’s voice, high-pitched and irritated.
Someone who didn’t talk to me like I was an old piece of furniture.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Hi, I’m Chloe. I’m Natalie’s friend. I came to visit her.”
“Oh, well, Natalie doesn’t need help anymore,” Sophie replied firmly. “Now we’ll take care of her.”
“Can I help you?”
Before Chloe could answer, I heard a door slam.
My heart sank. I stepped out into the hallway just as Sophie turned around. “Who was that?” I asked.
He didn’t blink. “Some kids selling cookies.”
“Who was it?”
I stared at her, speechless, surrounded by furniture I didn’t recognize, colors I hadn’t chosen.
Something inside me told me that Sophie’s plans for this house had nothing to do with making it prettier.
One morning, Mark came into the kitchen and said, “Mom, do you want to come with me to the store today?”
I stared at her, speechless.
I looked up from my coffee cup, surprised. “You? Taking me shopping? What happened that you and Sophie aren’t going together?”
“I thought we could spend some time together.”
It had been a while since we’d done something like this, so I agreed. Maybe I really wanted to reconnect. But when we got in the car, I realized I’d driven past our usual shop.
“What happened that made it so Sophie and you aren’t going together?”
“Mark, you went too far,” I told him.
“We’ll go to another one,” he replied quickly. “That one’s better.”
“It’s almost an hour away,” I said.
“We’ll go to another one.”
“I like their selection better.”
The journey was uneventful. Mark was restless, checking his phone far too often. In the store, he walked slowly, pausing in every aisle.
“Mark, is there a reason why you’re taking so long?” I finally asked.
The journey was uneventful.
“I just want to make sure we have everything.”
When we got home, I was exhausted. But as soon as I walked in, I felt something strange: the air was too still, the rooms too tidy, as if someone had rushed to clean up a mess.
On the hall table was a small notebook that wasn’t mine. It was probably Sophie’s, I thought, and ignored it.
“I just want to make sure we have everything.”
That night, unable to sleep, I got up to get some water. As I passed Mark and Sophie’s room, I froze. Their door was ajar, and I heard whispers inside.
“We need to do it soon,” Sophie said.
“I know,” Mark whispered. “But we can’t force her into the car.”
“We need to do it soon.”
Then they fell silent, but those words kept echoing in my head: forcing her into the car.
The next morning, while they were out, I sat in the living room, trying to calm down. I couldn’t ignore it anymore; something was wrong.
I went into Sophie’s room and opened her laptop.
I could no longer ignore it.
The screen lit up, and there it was, a real estate ad with pictures of my house.
My house.
Price, description: “Charming family home in a quiet neighborhood.”
When I clicked on another tab, a website for a nursing home opened. Photos of cheerful ladies smiling at each other while playing jigsaw puzzles and drinking tea. My stomach turned.
My house.
I picked up the phone and called Emily. “Honey,” I said, “Mark and Sophie… are planning to sell my house. They want to send me to a nursing home.”
Emily sighed heavily on the other end. “Mom, you said it yourself, it’s hard living alone. The house is too big for just one person. If they sell it, I’ll get my share of the money, they’ll buy their house, and you’ll be well taken care of.”
“Mark and Sophie… are planning to sell my house. They want to send me to a nursing home.”
” Did you know ?” I whispered.
“You’ll have people to talk to, activities, care…”
“Care?” I interrupted. “I don’t need care ! I need my home, my life! How could you do this to me?”
” Did you know ?”
“Mom, please don’t be dramatic. You just have to sign some papers,” she told me.
That was the last thing I heard before I hung up. My children, my own children, had decided my life for me.
I ran to the house next door and knocked on Chloe’s door. When she opened it, she just looked at me. “What happened?” she asked.
“Mom, please don’t be so dramatic.”
“They want to sell my house,” I said, breathless. “And kick me out.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Help me,” I said. “Please.”
“They want to sell my house”
Together we packed Mark and Sophie’s things: boxes, clothes, even that new sofa that I had never liked.
We dragged everything out to the front yard. Then I called a locksmith to change the locks.
That afternoon, Chloe and I were sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea, when they started banging on the door.
Together we packed Mark and Sophie’s things.
“Mom, open up!” Mark shouted.
“Let us in!” Sophie shouted. “What the hell did you do?”
I got up, but I didn’t open the door. “I know everything!” I yelled through it. “Did you really think you could sell my house and leave me stranded in a nursing home?”
“What the hell did you do?”
“Mom, it’s not as bad as it seems!”
“Don’t you dare call me Mom !” I yelled. “Get off my porch! I never want to see either of you again.”
Silence fell, and then footsteps faded away. I sank back into the chair, trembling but strangely calm.
“Don’t you dare call me mom !”
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. Emily was calling. I pressed “Reject.”
Chloe crossed the table and squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry, Natalie,” she said gently. “You don’t deserve this.”
I nodded, tears burning my eyes. “It’s okay. I still have my home… and at least someone who cares about me.”
“You don’t deserve this”
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