My mother-in-law announced that she would take over my seaside apartment for the winter, and expected me to find new housing for the current tenants.
She mentioned this at dinner, somewhere between asking me to pass the bread and noting that the chicken was a bit dry. It felt like my apartment was just another dish I’d forgotten to serve.
“While you’re working, Igor and I will live there. He needs a rest, too; he’s so worn out lately.”
Igor sat nearby in his casual t-shirt, carefully spreading butter on his bread. I didn’t see any exhaustion on him, but he was definitely focused on that butter.
I bought the apartment five years before our marriage. I was still paying off the renovation loan, using the rent. Since September, a married couple had been renting it until the end of March. Igor knew about this. The apartment is small, with one bedroom and a balcony where, if you lean to the right, you can catch a glimpse of the sea. It’s a perfect spot for morning coffee.
Igor was able to work remotely while I headed to the office every morning. The two of them were planning a relaxing vacation together. I asked who would be responsible for the mortgage and utilities if we kicked out the current tenants.
My mother-in-law abruptly stopped cutting the chicken and stared at me, as if I’d suggested charging her for the air in our kitchen. Igor quickly tried to reassure me, saying his mom didn’t plan to stay forever—just a few months. He added that I could always earn more money, but his mom simply wanted a bit of warmth in her life.
“But there are already people living in the apartment. I’m not going to kick them out and pay the mortgage without the rental income.”
Lidia Petrovna pushed her plate away. Her appetite was gone—at least until the apple pie I brought out ten minutes later. Apparently, it’s easier to complain when there’s a delicious filling involved.
After dinner, Igor asked me to stay behind in the kitchen. Turns out, his mom had already bought the tickets, and now she’d be so disappointed. I wanted to know why I was just now hearing about the tickets and why everyone made decisions without me.
He frowned and said I was nitpicking words again. His mom just assumed we were both okay with the whole thing. As for who exactly counted as «we,» my husband didn’t bother clarifying.
“I told her you’d agree. Can’t you do something nice for my mom for once, without crunching the numbers?”
The next morning, I got a call from a woman I’d never met before. She introduced herself as Valentina.
«Lidia gave me your number. You handle her apartment, right? I wanted to check if there’s an elevator.»
«There is an elevator—and the apartment belongs to me. But I haven’t invited any guests.»
«What do you mean you haven’t invited me? I’ve already paid Lidia for two months. She promised me a private room—everything else is included in the price.»
That’s when I finally understood the source of her confidence. While I was worrying about loan payments, my mother-in-law had launched her own mini resort—using my furniture and my towels.
I asked Valentina not to send any more payments for now and suggested we meet in person. She lived in the next neighborhood and agreed to come by that evening. Before our meeting, I called the tenants. They were still living in the apartment, and no one had discussed moving out with them.
Valentina and I met at a cafe near my place. She arrived with printed-out messages and proof of a money transfer totaling forty-eight thousand rubles. She’d paid half a week ago and the rest the night before our family dinner.
In the chat, there was a photo of my balcony. I recognized it immediately—I’d sent that very image to my mother-in-law after renovating, when she wanted to see what all the expenses were for.
Beneath the photo, Lidia Petrovna wrote that the apartment belonged to her, and that her daughter-in-law only took care of the bills. She went on to praise the private room, the nearby shops, and her own generosity—saying you couldn’t find such a deal near the sea.
Valentina didn’t beg for a place to stay—not even for a single week. First, she wanted to figure out what had happened. Quietly, she told me that because of this arrangement, she’d already turned down another option.
Valentina allowed me to keep a copy of their messages and the payment proof. I asked her to send the whole conversation, with all the dates and deadline info. After all, when it comes to someone else’s promises, a single cropped screenshot could be dismissed as a misunderstanding. Inventing a full conversation is a lot harder.
Last night, Igor met me at the door and asked why his mom seemed so upset. I suggested he give her a call and invite her over. I messaged Valentina too: if she felt ready, she could come by in half an hour—the conversation would be about her money.
My mother-in-law showed up first and immediately started criticizing my character. According to her, I always make things complicated—even a simple vacation turns into an accounting session with me. Igor chimed in to agree, but went quiet the moment Valentina arrived.
I laid out the printed documents on the table. Lydia Petrovna tried to explain that by «her apartment,» she meant the family’s. The separate room was almost separate, she insisted: the sofa is in the living room, and it has a door that closes.
Valentina reminded everyone that she was promised the bedroom. My mother-in-law was surprised—why would an adult woman need such a big bed when there’s a perfectly good sofa? In just five minutes, the apartment had switched owners, and the paid-for bedroom was suddenly an unnecessary luxury.
«Lida, I paid for the room. You never mentioned the sofa to me.»
Lydia Petrovna turned to Igor, waiting for him to confirm that this was just a misunderstanding they could easily fix. All it would take was asking the current tenants to leave a bit earlier—and for me to quit making a scene in front of guests.
I asked my husband directly if he knew about the money.
Igor admitted that his mom had mentioned a small favor from Valentina. He assumed it was just for groceries; this is the first he’s hearing about such a big amount.
«Explain to Valentina whose apartment this is. And why you promised your mom a place to stay without asking me.»
My husband stared at the papers for a long time before finally saying the apartment is mine, I never gave permission, and the trip won’t happen. Lydia Petrovna quickly brought up the tickets. Valentina reminded her about the forty-eight thousand she wanted back.
My mother-in-law declared the money had all been spent—on a suitcase, tickets for both of them, and clothes.
She suggested letting Valentina stay for two months and asked me to be patient without rental income for a little while.
In her calculations, other people’s patience always counts as her own gain. I could’ve given her a small amount for a vacation myself, if she had just asked. But instead of a request, she chose to give an order—and then tried to frame my refusal as a betrayal of the family.
I said I wouldn’t be giving them the apartment. Valentina pointed out that she wired the forty-eight thousand specifically for accommodation. Lydia had promised to buy the tickets separately, but now everything had been paid from that single payment. Valentina had no intention of covering someone’s new clothes or suitcase.
Igor pulled me aside to the window and quietly asked if I could help his mom out just this time. The money would be returned later; everyone felt so awkward right now.
I remembered how carefully he shopped for a new car—always refusing to spend extra just to protect his savings.
«You’ve saved up for a car. Pay Valentina back, since you decided your mom deserves a vacation at our expense.»
He immediately protested that it was completely different. I agreed—he should choose between the car and his mother’s promises. My apartment is no longer part of that equation.
Lydia Petrovna heard the word «car» and perked up. The purchase could be postponed; her son would understand the situation. I didn’t even need to repeat my suggestion—my mother-in-law figured out herself how to make her generosity add up.
Igor came back to the table and asked Valentina for her banking details. She checked the payment, thanked him, and left. My mother stayed behind to explain to her son that she would pay everything back, but that he shouldn’t speak to her in that tone.
They ended up canceling the tickets together. Meanwhile, I texted the woman who was looking after the apartment in person: do not hand over the keys to anyone without a direct message from me. The guest’s last name and a familiar voice on the phone are not considered permission.
A week later, Igor agreed with his mom to return the money in installments. Then he asked if we could go to the sea ourselves in the spring. I replied that we’d discuss it closer to vacation time. At first, I wanted to see if he would learn to discuss plans with me before making promises to others.
Lidia Petrovna sent a message through Igor saying that I had ruined her winter getaway. For the first time, he didn’t bring it to me as an urgent task to fix. He just relayed the message and added that he wouldn’t promise our place to anyone else on my behalf.
My mother-in-law put the new suitcase up for sale. It turns out that when something really belongs to her, it’s much harder for her to part with it.
