When we faced reality after the wedding – loans, rent, lack of stabilization – my mother reached out to us. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/2a129c/620x0/1/0/2025/03/10/no1a3hob1k0w0wkxsdmhyxsyafahnqhzb0nj5y6p.jpg" alt = "man @pexels" Style = "background-color: rgba (168,136,91.1)" > < p > — Live with me — she said without hesitation.

< p > It was not an easy decision for anyone. Mom moved to a small apartment, giving us this one who built for years.

< p > — This is your new beginning — She smiled. & Amp; MDASH; Someday you will repay me.

< p > I did not know then that fate would make me repay in the worst possible way & b.

< P >For the first months, everything was going well.

< p > I felt grateful.

< p > wife & ndash; not necessarily.

< p > — This is not our home — She threw one day when we were at work. & Amp; MDASH; I still feel as if we were guests.

< p > — It's just for some time — I calmed her.

< p > sighed.

< p > — Maybe it's time to think about something ?

< p > I shrugged.

< p > — We do not have an agent yet on credit.

< p > her look m & oacute; I had everything.

< p > — Maybe we don't, but your mother has.

< p > I thought he was joking.

< p > did not joke.

< p > — She should rewrite this apartment for you — She said one evening, based on the kitchen countertop.

< p > — It's her property.

< P >& Amp; MDASH; Exactly! And what if one day he takes them ? and we will stay on the street ?

< p > I looked at her in disbelief.

< p > — After all, my mother gave them to us.

< p > — But not on paper — threw cold.

< p > I couldn't believe what I hear.

< p > Over the next weeks, my wife said that I should think about our future.

< p > under pressure, contrary to myself, I started talking to my mother about rewriting the apartment.

< p > did not want.

< p > — Son, you don't need a document to know that this place is yours.

< p > but the wife did not give up.

< p > until she finally got her.

< p > The apartment was ours.

< p > Mama moved to an even smaller apartment.

Then the wife began the m∓ oacute; with renovation.

< p > — It all needs to be adapted to us.

< p > & adapt; < p > and this meant one thing: get rid of everything that reminded my mother.

< p > changed curtains, curtains, furniture.

< p > and then it came to my mother.

< p > — She should no longer come to us so often — announced.

< p > — What ? — I looked at her shocked. & Amp; MDASH; This is my mother!

< p > — And so what ? now is our home.

< p > I didn't want to believe, but my wife just cut me off from a person who gave us everything.

< p > A I ?

< p > I let her.

< p > I watched my mother leave, with a smile, which & oacute; ry hid b & oacute; < p > — It is important that you are happy, son — she said quietly.

< p > I wasn't.

< p > and I was never supposed to be.

Natasha Kumar

By Natasha Kumar

Natasha Kumar has been a reporter on the news desk since 2018. Before that she wrote about young adolescence and family dynamics for Styles and was the legal affairs correspondent for the Metro desk. Before joining The Times Hub, Natasha Kumar worked as a staff writer at the Village Voice and a freelancer for Newsday, The Wall Street Journal, GQ and Mirabella. To get in touch, contact me through my natasha@thetimeshub.in 1-800-268-7116