When Mo hosts a housewarming to celebrate her new home, her husband and mother-in-law make an unthinkable demand. To give it away to Mo’s sister-in-law. But they didn’t know Mo’s parents planned ahead.
What follows is a devastating unraveling of loyalty, power, and love, ending in a reckoning no one saw coming.
They say the first home you buy as a couple is where you build your future. For Alex and I, it was supposed to be just that, a warm, two-bedroom apartment on the third floor with sunlight pouring into the kitchen every morning.
We closed on it three months after our wedding, and while we both contributed to the mortgage, the truth was simple: this place existed because of my parents.
My mom and dad, Debbie and Mason, had given us most of the down payment as a wedding gift.
“Don’t ask, don’t refuse, just take it, darling girl,” my father had said.
So, no questions were asked. There was just love and support.
That’s how they’ve always been with me, giving me their quiet strength and unwavering loyalty.
And maybe it’s because I knew that love was what built this home, not entitlement or obligation. Then, I started to notice Barbara’s tone shift whenever she visited.
I’d seen the way she eyed the apartment at the bridal shower, taking in every detail not like a guest but like someone running inventory. The glint in her eye wasn’t admiration.
It was a calculation! At that point, my father told me he rented the apartment for my bridal shower weekend. I didn’t know he intended to buy it.
“I’m sure your mother is going to give you this place, Mo,” she’d said.
“Anything for their princess, right?”
She was right. But it wasn’t really her business. So, when we finally settled in, I told Alex I wanted to throw a housewarming party.
“Why do you want so many people in our home, Mo?” he asked.
“Because, I want to show off our home!
I want to be a good hostess, and anyway, I’d rather have everyone here at once, instead of those annoying weekend visits.”
It took some convincing but Alex was finally on board. I cooked for two days straight. Roast chicken glazed in honey and thyme, salads with candied pecans and goat cheese, and a cake I’d spent hours on that somehow leaned slightly to the right but still tasted like heaven.
I wanted everyone to see that I had built something real.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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