Twelve years ago, my husband and I packed our cartons, sold our tight apartment in a block of flats and moved to the countryside. On the plot belonging to his mother. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/c352aa/620x0/1/0/2025/04/05/r81wbszlimvlwtawqlawn1lo7n8chbhwumtid52.jpg" alt = "from life taken." Quot; mother -in -law promised that the plot would be our & quot; styles = "background-color: rgba (156,135,120,1)" > < p > We had dreams & ndash; House, garden & oacute; d, children running barefoot on the grass. And faith in what the mother -in -law was m & > < p > & ndash; It will all be yours someday. I promise. You have my word.

< P >We trusted her. We took a loan for the construction of a house, which & Oacute; Ry stood right next to her old habitat. We added every penny & ndash for years; Foundations, roof, fence, then kitchen, bathroom. It wasn't easy. But we were sure: we are building on our own. There was a promise.

< p > Several years have passed. The mother -in -law got married again & ndash; for an elderly gentleman from a neighboring village. She seemed happy. Sometimes she was with us, she drank tea with a granddaughter, she brought eggs from her own henhouse. And never m & oacute; that something was changing.

< p > until that day.

< p > registered letter. Official letter. I froze. Inside & ndash; Information from notary public. The plot, on which our house stands & oacute; was prescribed & Hellip; for a grandson from a second marriage. The boy who sees her once a year. Son Stemphas. Foreign.

< p > I thought it was a mistake. That it's a joke. But not & ndash; Everything was lawful. Her signature. Her will. Her decision.

< p > Husband palated. For the first time I saw him so devastated. As if someone had pulled his heart. He went to her, he was afraid to talk. He shouted. He cried. He begged. But he only heard:

< p > & ndash; Life is changing. And you have this house anyway. What more do you want ?

< p > What did we want ? justice. Respect. Recognizing that everything we did made sense. That the family means more than the business.

< p > We live in constant fear now. Because the house stands on someone else's land. Because a boy who does not know our history, can kick us out of our history. Because one mother -in -law's decision destroyed something that can no longer be fixed & ndash; trust.

< p > and I look at our house every day, at every brick arranged with love, and I ask myself: can you still believe people, even those who & oacute; they swear that they are a family ?~ 60 >

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