Our family felt tighter than ever.
Then, last month, my in-laws dropped a bomb. They wanted to sell their house and buy a lakeside cabin. To pay for it, they wanted our house back.
What? How? This was our home now.
We were shocked. They insisted that even though they gave it to us, they could take it back. The betrayal hit hard.
“They can’t do this,” Cal said, pacing our newly fixed kitchen. “We have a letter from them saying it was a gift!”
We couldn’t believe it. We had a written letter clearly stating the house was a gift. We decided to fight, hiring a lawyer to help us through this mess.
We gave the lawyer all the papers, receipts, and the gift letter. We were sure we had a case.
“I don’t know what else to do,” Cal said one morning over coffee. “I can’t imagine finding another place and moving the kids again. This isn’t fair!”
Weeks passed as we waited for answers. I got more upset every day. Cal told me to wait for the lawyer, but I couldn’t sit still.
I couldn’t just do nothing while our home was slipping away. So, I spent hours looking at rentals nearby, just to have options ready.
I didn’t know what was coming. I couldn’t believe Cal’s parents would put us in this spot.
Then, the lawyer finally got back to us.
He walked up our driveway with a blank face, and I knew bad news was coming.
“I’m sorry, but there’s not much we can do,” he said. “The house was never legally put in your names. The papers show them as the owners. So, legally, it’s theirs.”
The news crushed us.
My stomach sank.
Cal, angry and heartbroken, suggested undoing all the renovations out of spite.
“They used us,” he said bitterly. “We should take back everything we put in.”
But I couldn’t do it. Despite everything, we couldn’t sink that low.
“We’re better than that,” I said. “We’ll find a new place and make it ours.”
So, we packed up and moved into a small apartment closer to the city.
It was tight, but it felt like a clean start, free from my in-laws’ control.
The kids adjusted surprisingly well, making new friends and liking being closer to school and activities.
“I feel like we let the kids down,” I told Cal while unpacking kitchen stuff. “They’re sharing a room again, and they hate those bunk beds!”
“I know, love,” Cal said. “But it’s just for now. As soon as we can, we’ll move to something better. I promise.”
Just when we thought the drama was done, my in-laws called again. They couldn’t figure out the smart home system Cal installed.
“We can’t even get the lights to work, let alone the heat!” Cal’s dad complained over the phone. “Can you come help us?”
The irony wasn’t lost on us.
We’d made that house livable and comfortable, pouring our money and energy into it. Now they were enjoying our work but didn’t know how to use it.
Despite their begging, we weren’t going back.
“No,” Cal said firmly. “That house isn’t right for us. We’re staying here.”
The trust was broken, and the house, with all its tech, was a constant reminder of their betrayal. The cramped apartment wasn’t easy, but we were free from their games.
“This won’t be forever, Kalia,” Cal said. “I’ll make this right.”
The experience taught us to be cautious of gifts with strings attached. We learned that sometimes, what looks like kindness is just a way to control you.
As for my in-laws, they eventually figured out the smart home system, but the damage was done. Our relationship with them is broken for good.
“Please, come over for dinner,” Cal’s mom said. “We miss you and the kids so much.”
“I’m sorry, Lena,” I said. “But we’re too hurt. You’re a mom; you know how important a stable home is for kids. You and Finn took that from us.”
“Calm down, Kalia,” she said.
“No, because you don’t get how much this hurt us. Cal’s so disappointed in you both.”
Without another word, Lena hung up.
“Oh well,” I said to myself, chopping veggies for dinner. Cal and the kids would be home soon.