Real-Life Story: “My Husband Tried to Move His Son from His First Marriage into My Apartment”: I Made Him Understand That Wouldn't Happen

It just so happens that my husband and I spend the entire summer in a summerhouse.

Fresh air, beautiful nature all around — what more do you need? We are reluctant to move back to the city for the winter. This spring, before we started living in the country, we had a problem: our upstairs neighbors flooded us. The pipe burst when no one was home.

The neighbors are the right people, they apologized and promised to reimburse all repair costs. I should say my husband is a handyman. At the time, his job didn't work out, he had a fight with his boss and quit.

– Listen, let me do the renovation myself while I'm temporarily unemployed – suggested my husband. – We'll save a lot of money on paying workers. I decided there was no need, because the neighbors would pay for everything anyway.

– I have a few ideas on what we should do in the apartment – explained my husband. – It's easier to do it myself than to explain it to someone. Let the neighbors pay for the materials, and it will be a big sum. 'If you say so,' I agreed, because I was used to trusting his opinion.

So we decided: in the morning he would take me to work in the city, and he would go to do the renovation himself. This apartment belongs to me, he left his fortune to his first wife and children. This is our second marriage: I was widowed early, he got divorced. I never found out the reasons for the divorce. I only know that he has three sons, and at the time of the divorce the oldest was only 7 years old.

He didn't communicate much with his children, but as he got older he felt guilty and tried to help them as much as he could. He got the oldest a job. A friend took him on, gave him a good salary. And he comes back the next day, he's rude. The rest of my siblings were no better – they exploited their father however they could.

“I'm sorry, you're just being exploited,” I explained to him. But my husband wouldn't give up and at some point decided to improve his relationship with his sons at my expense. One evening he began to talk about how difficult it was for him to do repairs alone: ​​”You see, I'm not young anymore. I used to be able to wade knee-deep in the sea. Now my back and legs hurt.”

“I've been offering to hire workers from the very beginning,” I reminded him.

“I have a better idea. Let my middle son and his girlfriend stay in our apartment during the renovation. They were escorted out of the rented apartment and haven't decided on a new place yet. My question about the reasons for the eviction confused my husband a bit, but he began to insist on my consent. He didn't get it, which of course affected the atmosphere in the house.

I wonder how long will it endure showing me resentment…

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