“Yes.”
“I see.” Linda gave a small, knowing nod. “You were fortunate, Jenna. Not everyone receives such an inheritance.”
Jenna said nothing. The word fortunate echoed unpleasantly in her mind. As if losing her parents and receiving their apartment afterward were some kind of prize, not the cost of grief.
Eric ignored his mother’s probing curiosity. Whenever Jenna tried to bring up Linda’s constant drop-ins, he dismissed her concerns with a shrug.
“Oh, come on. So my mom visits—what’s the big deal? She’s alone, she gets bored. That’s all.”
“But every time she’s here, she studies the place like she’s appraising it.”
“You’re imagining things. Stop overanalyzing.”
Jenna let it go. Maybe he was right. Linda was always polite, smiling, thanking her for tea. Starting an argument over a feeling seemed foolish.
A few months later, Eric’s younger sister, Emily, announced she was engaged. She was twenty-four, worked as an office manager, and earned very little. Her fiancé, Ryan, had a job on construction sites. The two of them rented a tiny one-bedroom apartment and barely managed to scrape by each month.
The wedding was modest—held in a small café, about thirty guests. Linda beamed all evening, offering heartfelt toasts and hugging her daughter repeatedly. Eric congratulated his sister; Jenna added a few warm words of her own. The celebration was pleasant, stretching late into the night before everyone finally drifted home.
A week after the ceremony, Linda appeared at their door again. This time she didn’t bring pastries. Her expression was serious, and she carried a large handbag. Eric was home, lounging on the couch in front of the television. Jenna stood in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
“Eric, Jenna, we need to talk,” Linda announced as she stepped into the living room.
Jenna dried her hands on a towel and joined them. Linda sat at the table and pulled several sheets of paper from her bag. Eric leaned forward, attentive. Jenna remained standing.
“What is it about, Linda?” Jenna asked cautiously.
“It’s about Emily. She and Ryan are struggling with their housing situation. The rent is outrageous, and most of their salaries disappear into it. Buying their own place is out of the question—they simply don’t have the money.”
“That’s their responsibility,” Jenna replied carefully. “They’re adults.”
“Of course they are. But we’re family. Family helps one another.”
The word helps made Jenna tense. It carried a weight she didn’t like.
“And what exactly are you suggesting?”
Linda glanced at Eric, then back at Jenna, a faint smile forming on her lips.
“You have so much space here. Three rooms for just the two of you. It’s more than you really need.”
“More than we need?” Jenna repeated, her brows knitting together. “What are you implying?”
“Well, I was thinking you could exchange this apartment for two smaller one-bedroom places. One for you, one for Emily and Ryan. Everyone would benefit. We’ve even looked at a few options already—here are photos and details.”
She spoke as casually as if she were recommending a new grocery store. Jenna stood frozen, struggling to process what she had just heard. Trade the apartment? Her apartment?
“You’re serious?” Her voice trembled despite her effort to stay composed.
“Completely serious. Each couple would have their own home. Emily would finally feel secure. You’d still have a place of your own. And if there’s any money left over from the exchange, I could finally go to a health spa and take care of myself for once.”
Linda continued elaborating, outlining numbers and possibilities as though she were discussing shared family property rather than something that legally belonged to someone else. Jenna listened, feeling the pressure building in her chest.
“Linda, this apartment is mine,” she said slowly, emphasizing each word.
“Yes, technically it’s yours. But you and Eric are married. What’s yours is shared.”
“No,” Jenna replied firmly. “It isn’t shared. My parents transferred this place to me before I got married. It’s my personal property.”
“Oh, don’t be so formal. You live together. Relatives support each other.”
Jenna turned to her husband. Eric avoided her gaze, staring down at the floor. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed thin.
“Eric, aren’t you going to say anything?”