The purchase was finalized without delay. Just two weeks later, Emily stood in the middle of an empty living room, a small ring of keys resting in her palm. They were hers. She slowly turned in a circle, studying the bare walls and sunlit windows, already imagining how everything would look. A soft gray couch along that wall. Pale blue tiles in the bathroom. Maybe a large mirror near the entryway to make the space feel even brighter.
Ryan watched her with an indulgent smile, holding a tape measure and jotting down numbers as she called them out. He seemed genuinely happy seeing her so animated, so full of plans.
“We should call my parents again,” Emily said at last, settling on the wide windowsill. “And thank them one more time. Without their help, we’d still be saving for another decade.”
“Of course,” Ryan agreed. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “I’ll let my mom know too.”
Emily’s head snapped up. “Why?”
He shrugged lightly. “She’s my mother. I want to share the news with her.”
A protest rose to her lips, but she swallowed it. It was too late anyway—Ryan was already dialing.
“Hi, Mom… Listen, we’ve got something to tell you. We bought an apartment! Three bedrooms, right downtown. About eight hundred and sixty square feet… Yes, brand-new building… Well, it’s in Emily’s name. Her parents covered most of the cost… No, Mom, I understand… It just worked out that way.”
Emily couldn’t hear Rita’s voice clearly, but the tension in Ryan’s shoulders spoke volumes. A cold unease settled in her stomach. Rita was not an easy woman. She had a habit of inserting herself into their affairs, offering advice no one had requested, and reminding Ryan—subtly or not—that he owed her everything. Emily had always tried to keep a polite distance, though it wasn’t simple.
When Ryan ended the call, he avoided her eyes.
“Mom wants to see the place,” he said. “I invited her over next week.”
“Wonderful,” Emily replied flatly, the word devoid of enthusiasm.
The week rushed by. They ordered furniture, hired a small crew to make minor adjustments, and started bringing in appliances. By Friday, a brand-new refrigerator hummed in the kitchen, and a modest table with two chairs stood near the window.
That evening, Ryan cleared his throat. “She’s coming tomorrow. Just… try to be a little more patient with her, okay? I know you two don’t exactly click, but she is my mom.”
“I’m always polite,” Emily answered crisply.
Saturday morning, the doorbell rang. Emily opened the door—and froze.
Rita stood on the threshold, gripping two enormous bags, with a third resting by her feet. Her smile looked strained.
“Good morning, Emily,” she said sweetly. “Be a dear and help me carry these inside.”
Almost automatically, Emily picked up one of the bags and stepped aside. Rita entered as if she already belonged there, her gaze sweeping across the apartment with open appraisal.
“Well… it’s decent,” she pronounced. “Though I would’ve arranged things differently. Still, it will do.”
Ryan emerged from the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. “Hi, Mom. How did you get here?”
“Just fine, Ryan,” she replied. “I brought a few of my things.”
Emily set the heavy bag down with a dull thud. “What things?”
Rita straightened her back, folded her arms, and fixed Emily with a steady, unwavering look.
“My son told me you bought a three-bedroom apartment downtown,” she said coolly. “I’ll be living here from now on.”
Emily blinked, certain she had misheard. “I’m sorry—what?”
“I’m moving in,” Rita repeated calmly. “Alex is getting married in six months. My current apartment will go to him and his fiancée. Naturally, I need somewhere to stay. This place is ideal—central location, three rooms. Perfect for me.”
Heat flooded Emily’s face. For a moment she couldn’t even form words, barely managing to keep her composure as disbelief and anger surged inside her.