My mom lives alone, and I want her to move in with us.
My husband agreed, but only if she pays rent.
He said, “She will eat our food and use our electricity. It’s not a hotel.” I was furious. I also own this house!
Then he added, “Your mother never
…Then he added, “Your mother never treated me like a burden. She welcomed me when I had nothing. She cooked for me when I was jobless. She let me sleep under her roof without asking for a cent.”
I froze.
He looked down, a little embarrassed. “I just wanted to make sure she’d feel like this is her home, not charity. But maybe I said it the wrong way.”
Suddenly, everything shifted. What I thought was resentment… was actually respect. And a fear of not being able to repay it.
We sat in silence for a moment. Then I said, “Let’s not charge her rent. Let’s just make sure she knows she’s wanted.”
He nodded. “And loved.”
That night, we cleared out the guest room. Not because we had to — but because we both wanted to.
Sometimes, love doesn’t sound like “Welcome.”
Sometimes, it sounds like “She deserves more than just space.”
