Jen’s husband, David, and his mom, Margaret, took off to Dubai with cash from Jennifer’s wallet, leaving her stuck at home with the kids

“He said it’s better to do it before fall,” Jennifer corrected. “Sooner is better for results.” David sat across from her, popped open the bottle.

“I get it, but…” He took a sip. “Work’s not great right now. No bonuses till fall. And Mom’s been asking me to join her in Dubai.

I need a break too, I’m burned out. The money we saved for treatment would cover my ticket.” Jennifer stared at her husband.

When they married six years ago, David was different: attentive, caring, ready to move mountains for his family. Now, a tired man sat before her, dodging responsibility and tough choices. “Are you out of your mind? You’re not going to Dubai.

If we rented Mom’s apartment at market rate,” she began cautiously, “we’d have enough by now.” David grimaced. “Not this again.

I asked you to drop it.” “But it’s true,” Jennifer insisted. “Your mom’s been living there for three years, practically free.

If she paid even $1,000 a month…” “Mom doesn’t have that kind of money.” “She found money for Dubai,” Jennifer couldn’t hide her bitterness.

“And a new phone, and a fur coat.” “Mom has her priorities.” David finished his beer and slammed the bottle on the table.

“You can’t tell her how to spend her money.” “But I can decide how much my apartment’s rent is.” “Our apartment,” David corrected.

“Mine,” Jennifer said firmly. “It’s my grandmother’s inheritance, legally mine. I have every right to manage it as I see fit.”

David stood, looming over her. “And what’s your plan? Kick my mom out?” “I didn’t say kick out,” Jennifer stood too, refusing to back down.

“I’m talking about fair rent. Or her finding another place, like she promised three years ago.” “She can’t afford another place,” David raised his voice. “She spent everything.” “On what? Endless shopping and trips? That’s her choice.

And now our son suffers for her irresponsibility?” “Don’t talk about my mother like that.” David slammed his fist on the table. “She helps with the kids, cooks, cleans.”

“When it suits her,” Jennifer matched his volume, forgetting the sleeping kids. “But when it’s about money or real help, she’s got a migraine or a lunch with friends.”

They fell silent, breathing heavily, staring across the table. David looked away first. “I don’t want to fight,” he said wearily.

“Just understand, I can’t evict my mom. She’s my mother.” “And I’m the mother of your children,” Jennifer replied softly.

“I’ll do anything to keep them healthy and happy. Even if it means making tough calls.” David turned and left the kitchen.

The front door slammed—he’d gone to “clear his head,” as he always did after fights. He’d return late, slightly buzzed, and they’d pretend nothing happened. As usual.

Jennifer sank into a chair, feeling despair tighten its grip. The kids slept soundly next door. For them, she endured, sought compromises, tried to save the family.

But it grew harder every day. The next morning, Jennifer woke to her phone ringing. Margaret’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello,” she answered sleepily, checking the time. 7:30, David still asleep beside her. “Jenny, hi,” Margaret’s voice was unnaturally chipper. “Did I wake you?” “No, I…” Jennifer cleared her throat. “I was up.” “Great.

I’m calling to say I can’t pick up Tommy from daycare today. I forgot I have a spa appointment.” Jennifer closed her eyes, counting to five.

“But you promised. I have two extra tutoring sessions, I can’t leave early.” “Oh, dear, you’ll figure something out,” Margaret said without a hint of regret. “Maybe David can grab him?” “He’s got a big meeting, he told you yesterday.” “Really?” Margaret feigned surprise.

“I don’t recall. Well, ask one of the other moms at daycare. Or call an Uber.

Tommy’s a big boy, he’ll manage.” “He’s four,” Jennifer said through gritted teeth. “And he has a weak heart.

I can’t send him in an Uber.” “Oh, there you go with your drama,” Margaret’s patience waned.

“Fine, I’ll try to reschedule the spa. No promises.” Margaret hung up before Jennifer could respond.

These conversations were routine: Margaret agreed to help with the kids, then bailed at the last minute with an excuse. Jennifer slipped out of bed quietly, not waking David. Their relationship had grown strained lately.

David stayed late at work, paid less attention to money or kid issues. When Jennifer tried to talk seriously, he brushed her off or got annoyed. In the kitchen, she started the coffee maker and grabbed her phone.

She needed to find someone to pick up Tommy from daycare. Scrolling through contacts, she paused at Lisa R. They’d met at the playground months ago when Lisa was watching her nephew. Lisa was a realtor and lived nearby.

“Maybe Lisa can advise on the apartment,” Jennifer thought, and sent a text: “Hey! Sorry for the early message. Can you consult me on renting out an apartment? I’m in a tricky situation.” Lisa replied almost instantly: “Hey! Sure, let’s call after 10, I’m in a meeting now.”

Jennifer felt a flicker of relief. At least she’d get some clarity on next steps. They met at a small coffee shop near the daycare.

Lisa, a tall brunette with lively brown eyes, listened attentively, jotting notes in a notebook. “So,” she summed up when Jennifer finished, “your mother-in-law’s been living in your apartment for three years, pays next to nothing, and refuses to move out or pay market rent.”

“Exactly,” Jennifer warmed her hands on a cappuccino mug. “And David’s fully on her side.” “You know you can legally evict her anytime,” Lisa set down her pen. “The apartment’s solely in your name, you have full rights to do as you please.” “I know,” Jennifer sighed…