When I gifted my daughter a house and car for her new life, I never imagined her in-laws would claim it all—and reduce her to their unpaid maid. They crossed a line, and I made sure they’d never forget who really held the keys.
I missed my only daughter’s wedding.
A sad woman | Source: Pexels
I was recovering from surgery abroad. I begged my doctor to let me fly, but he said, “You’re lucky to be standing. Don’t push it.” My heart broke when I saw the pictures from the wedding — Ava in white, her smile so wide it made me cry.
But I couldn’t be there.
A crying woman | Source: Pexels
I wanted to give her something big. Something that showed I was still with her, even from far away. So, I bought her and her husband, Jacob, a house. Not just helped with it — bought it outright.
Same with the car. A little gray SUV. Good for groceries, work, or weekend trips.
A gray SUV | Source: Pexels
Everything was done legally. The house was in my name. So was the car. I trusted them, but life can be strange. It’s easier to gift something later than to get it back once it’s gone.
Once I was well enough, I booked a flight and packed my bags. I couldn’t wait to see her. To hug her. To see her life as a wife. I didn’t tell her I was coming. I wanted it to be a surprise.
A woman sitting on a suitcase | Source: Pexels
But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
I let myself in with the key Ava had sent me months ago. The house was quiet. Then I heard something from the kitchen — a soft scrubbing sound.
There she was. My Ava. On her knees. Scrubbing the floor with a bucket and sponge. Her hair was tied back. Her face looked pale.
A woman scrubbing floors | Source: Freepik
In the living room, on the couch, sat Charles and Linda — her in-laws. They were eating lunch, watching TV.
Linda didn’t even look up. “Don’t forget the hallway this time,” she said, chewing loudly.
“Yeah,” Charles added. “This plate’s still dirty. Wash it again.”
I stood there frozen.
Ava saw me and gasped. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” I said softly.
A smiling woman with open arms | Source: Freepik
She got up fast and wiped her hands on her pants. “Let’s talk later, okay? Just… not now.”
Charles glanced at me. “Oh. You must be the mother.”
Linda smiled, tight-lipped. “Nice of you to drop by.”
I didn’t answer. I just watched.
Dinner that night felt like a quiet ache in my chest.
A family dinner | Source: Pexels
Ava moved through the kitchen with tired grace, stirring the pot, flipping the meat, setting the table. She did it all alone, without a word from anyone else. Charles stayed on the couch, glued to the TV, while Linda sat near the window, scrolling through her phone and humming softly to herself.
“It smells a little burnt,” Linda muttered, not even bothering to glance up.
Ava carried the plates over and softly called, “Dinner’s ready.”
A woman setting the table | Source: Pexels
Charles didn’t move. “Bring it here,” he said. “I’m in the middle of something.”
She obeyed without complaint, walking back and forth between the kitchen and the couch. No one said thank you.
Linda took one bite and shook her head. “Too dry. Did you cook this too long?”
Charles grunted. “Needs salt.”
Ava smiled faintly and nodded. “I’ll do better next time.”
A mature woman with her arms folded | Source: Pexels
I watched her carefully. Her hands moved out of habit, her eyes dull with exhaustion. When the meal ended, she quietly cleared the plates and started washing dishes. Not a soul offered to help.
I walked up beside her. “Why are you doing everything?” I asked softly.
She didn’t stop scrubbing. “They’re just staying for a while. It’s temporary.”
“How long has it been?”
A woman washing the dishes | Source: Pexels
She paused. “Since the wedding.”
“And they think Jacob bought the house?”
Ava glanced at me, then looked down. “Yes. I didn’t correct them. It just seemed easier that way.”
I took a deep breath. “Easier for who, sweetheart?”
She didn’t answer.
A sad woman looking to her side | Source: Pexels
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake, listening to the stillness of the house. My mind kept playing it over — Ava running herself ragged, while Charles and Linda lived like royalty in a home they thought was theirs.
She tiptoed around them like a guest in her own life.
A woman sleeping in her bed | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I stood at the front window and looked out at the car in the driveway. It was spotless. Not a smudge on the paint. It looked like it hadn’t missed a single outing.
Ava walked by with a basket of laundry, her hair tied back, sleeves rolled up. “Do you ever drive it?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. They use it. I don’t really go anywhere anymore. I don’t have time.”
A woman doing laundry | Source: Pexels
That simple sentence hit me like a stone.
They had taken more than just her space. They had taken her freedom. Her voice. Her joy. I saw it now — how small she’d become in her own home, trying not to offend, trying to keep the peace.
A sad mature woman looking down | Source: Freepik
And Jacob? He was away on another work trip, unaware or unwilling to see what was happening under his own roof. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe Ava didn’t tell him. Or maybe she thought it wasn’t worth the trouble.
I looked at my daughter — pale, quiet, too polite to ask for more — and I knew I couldn’t leave things the way they were.
Something had to change.
A tired woman holding her head | Source: Pexels
Later that afternoon, I asked everyone to come into the kitchen. Charles shuffled in, remote still in hand. Linda followed, sighing as she sat and crossed her legs.
“What is this, a meeting now?” she said with a smirk.
Ava glanced at me, worried. “Mom?”
I straightened my back. “Yes. A house meeting.”
My voice was steady. My mind was made up. I took a breath and began.
A serious woman in her living room | Source: Freepik
“I’ve been here for two days,” I said calmly. “And I’ve watched my daughter do every bit of cooking, cleaning, laundry, and driving. While the two of you relax like you’re on vacation.”
Linda let out a dry laugh. “We’re guests. We don’t follow housemaid schedules.”
I didn’t blink. “You’re not guests. You’ve been living here for months. Eating, showering, doing laundry, using the car — all without lifting a finger.”
Charles shifted in his chair. “What’s your point?”
A serious mature man | Source: Pexels
“My point,” I said, “is simple. If you live in this house, you contribute. Ava is not your maid.”
Linda rolled her eyes. “You can’t just come in here and change the rules. This is Jacob’s house. Not yours.”
I paused for a moment, then looked her dead in the eye.
“No. It’s not Jacob’s house,” I said. “It’s mine.”
They both froze.
A smiling woman touching her lips | Source: Pexels
“What are you talking about?” Charles asked, his voice rising.
“I bought this house. The deed is in my name. I also bought the car. It’s registered to me.”
Linda’s mouth opened, then closed. Her face turned a shade of red I hadn’t seen before.
“You’re joking,” she finally said.
“I’m not,” I replied. “This house was a gift for Ava — something I wanted her to enjoy when the time was right. But legally, it still belongs to me.”
A mature woman looking to her side | Source: Freepik
Linda took a step forward. “We have nowhere else to go! You can’t just kick us out!”
I looked at her, calm as ever. “That’s not Ava’s responsibility. Or mine.”
“But we’re family—”
“No,” I interrupted. “You’re extended family, not royalty. If you want to stay, you pull your weight. If not, you can pack your things and go.”
Silence fell. You could hear the hum of the refrigerator.
An angry mature woman pointing at the camera | Source: Freepik
Ava stood frozen, lips parted.
I turned to her and softened my tone. “Sweetheart, you deserve better than this. This is your home. And it’s time you lived in it like it is.”
Ava swallowed hard. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, “Thank you.”
That was enough.
A smiling young woman | Source: Freepik
Within the week, Charles and Linda packed up and left. No big farewell. Just a slammed door and the sound of tires on gravel.
Ava collapsed into my arms that evening, her body shaking. “I didn’t know how to say no,” she cried.
“You don’t have to explain,” I said, holding her tight. “You were trying to keep the peace. But peace isn’t peace if it costs you everything.”
A woman drinking tea with her daughter | Source: Pexels
We spent the next few days reclaiming her space. We rearranged the furniture, cleaned the closets, and opened every window in the house. Sunlight poured in. Ava laughed more. She moved easier. She started humming while making coffee.
On Saturday, I tossed her the keys. “Let’s take that car for a spin.”
We drove with the windows down, wind in our hair, music playing loud. For the first time in months, I saw her smile without effort.
A happy woman driving | Source: Pexels
That night, as we sat in the quiet living room, she rested her head on my shoulder.
“I forgot what it felt like to be me,” she whispered.
I kissed the top of her head.
She’s not a maid. She’s not a servant. She’s my daughter. And no one gets to forget that.
A woman hugging her mother | Source: Pexels
I Told My Friend She Married a Useless Man, and Now She Hates Me
I take it that everyone of us must navigate our own lives and take responsibility for our decisions? However, it is in our nature as humans to want to help friends who are actually in need. However, what would you do if your friend—the one you always stand by—started confiding in you about all of their issues, repeatedly, and with no sign of stopping? This Reddit member is exactly in that predicament. She wondered if she was managing the matter with her buddy correctly, so she looked to the large internet community for advice.
I(32F) am a single mother of two kids (6M and 5m F). I am a single mother by choice (my kids are donor conceived).
I am lucky enough to have a good job (French teacher in a private school), and a paid off house (parents’ life insurance and inheritance).
Before I had either of my kids, I made sure to have a year’s living expenses saved, then I would take a sabbatical to recover from birth, as well as bond with my kids. While on sabbatical, I still tutor some kids for some extra income.
My friend (34F), just had a baby 2 months ago. She is the breadwinner in her household, and her husband has been unemployed since he was laid off during COVID.
It was great to be pregnant at the same time, as well as having a friend with a newborn. But it has turned sour.
She has been saying how jealous she is of me being able to take off a whole year from work, how she would have loved to not worry about losing their home, how she doesn’t even have a couple hundred dollars in her savings account, let alone a whole year’s worth of living expenses….
I usually ignore it, or brush it off, because I kind of can understand the stress she is under.
Well, starting about 10 days ago, she started hinting at not being able to afford daycare, and any mention of her husband taking care of their kid is brushed off. Then she started remarking on how much free time I must have, which I deflected by saying -truthfully- that being a single mom to a baby and a small kid left me no free time actually.
Then last night she came out with it, and asked if I could “do her a favor” and watch her kid while she’s at work. I was firm, but polite, when I said that I couldn’t, that I am not capable of watching two kids under 6 months.
She started almost begging me, saying she can’t afford daycare, and if she is not back at work, she will lose her job, and they will end up homeless. I again brought up her husband, and she said that he was not good with kids, and isn’t capable of taking care of her kid.
I kept saying no, she kept pushing, until it escalated to her calling me heartless, and me telling her that it’s not my problem she chose to have a kid with a useless man.
Now she blocked me, I am feeling very guilty about what I said, and feeling like an AH.
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