When my boyfriend moved in, everything felt great, until he found out I owned the house. I didn’t think it would be a big deal, but his reaction led to a fight we didn’t expect.
I was eighteen when my dad gave me the keys to my own house. It was an old two-story building that had been in our family for years. This gift meant a lot to me. We weren’t wealthy, not at all.
Dad bought the house for a great price from his grandmother’s cousin, and I knew how lucky I was. Every time I walked through the front door, I felt thankful
The house had its quirks. Each floor was like its own apartment, with separate entrances, kitchens, and bathrooms. I lived upstairs and rented the downstairs to a nice woman named Maggie.
She paid $500 a month—less than most places, but I wasn’t in it for the money. The rent just covered basic costs. I handled everything myself, which gave me a little independence.
Three months ago, my boyfriend, Jason, moved in with me. We’d been together for six months, and it made sense. His lease was ending, and my place had the space. Plus, it felt good to be building a life together.
He was easygoing about most things, and we split groceries evenly, which worked for both of us. We never really talked about finances beyond daily expenses.
He didn’t ask about rent, and I didn’t mention that I owned the house. It wasn’t that I was hiding it; it just didn’t seem important.
One night, while we were watching TV, a news story came on about rising rent prices. Jason groaned and said, “Man, landlords are the worst. They only care about money. It’s like they don’t think about people who can’t afford a place to live.”
I stayed quiet, sipping my tea, unsure of what to say. I didn’t know how to explain that I was technically a landlord. But I wasn’t like the ones he was talking about. I charged fair rent and didn’t try to take advantage of my tenant.
Jason continued, shaking his head. “It’s just wrong, you know? People shouldn’t profit from something as basic as housing.”
I nodded, trying to change the subject as soon as I could. We spent the rest of the night like usual, but his words stuck with me. What would he think if he knew I was renting out part of the house? I didn’t want to make it awkward, so I kept it to myself.
A few days later, I was cleaning the kitchen when there was a knock at the door. I wiped my hands on a towel and opened it to see Maggie looking worried.
“Hey, Maggie, everything okay?” I asked.
She frowned. “My freezer stopped working. I tried everything, but it’s just dead.”
“Oh no,” I said, stepping outside. “Let me take a look.”
I followed her downstairs to her apartment. Sure enough, the freezer was warm, and nothing seemed to be working. I sighed, knowing it was probably time to replace it.
“I’ll pay for a new one,” I said. “Just send me the receipt, and I’ll reimburse you.”
Maggie smiled, relieved. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’ll go shopping for one tomorrow.”
“No problem,” I replied. “I’ll make sure you get the money back quickly.”
As I headed back upstairs, I realized Jason had probably heard the whole conversation. He was sitting on the couch when I walked in, looking a bit confused.
“Everything okay with Maggie?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said casually, “her freezer broke, but I told her I’d cover it.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You’re paying for her freezer? Why would you do that?”
I paused, unsure of how to answer. “Well, the freezer was here when she moved in, so it’s kind of my responsibility.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand. Why is that your responsibility?”
I could feel the tension rising. “Because… it’s my house. I rent it to her.”
Jason stared at me, his expression changing as he processed what I just said.
“You own this place?” His voice was sharper, more surprised than I expected.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I thought you knew.”
“No, I didn’t know,” he replied, his tone turning colder. “You never told me.”
“Well, it never came up,” I explained. “It’s not like I was trying to hide it.”
Jason shook his head, standing up. “I just… I can’t believe this.”
He walked over to the window, looking out as if trying to make sense of everything.
I stayed quiet, not sure what to say next.
The days after Jason found out I owned the house were tense. It wasn’t like before, where we’d laugh together while cooking or enjoy lazy evenings watching TV. He was distant and quieter, and something felt off. I didn’t want to push him, so I gave him space, hoping things would return to normal. But that didn’t happen.
One evening, I was cleaning up the kitchen when Jason walked in. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me.
“Still can’t believe you never told me,” he muttered, almost to himself.
I sighed, putting down the dish towel. “Jason, I wasn’t hiding it. It just didn’t seem important. You never asked.”
“Important?” He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “You’re a landlord. That’s pretty important. Don’t you think I had a right to know?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.
“I thought we were on the same page. I thought we saw the world the same way, but now… now I don’t know. Landlords just… they take advantage of people.” His voice was tight, and he wouldn’t look at me.
“I’m not like that!” I said, stepping closer. “Maggie’s rent is fair, and I fix anything that breaks. I’m not some greedy landlord you see on TV.”
He shook his head. “But you’re still making money off someone else’s need for a home.”
I felt anger rising in my chest. “I don’t think you understand what I do. I’m not hurting anyone. I charge Maggie way less than the market rate. I take care of the place. I’m not some big landlord trying to exploit people.”
“But you still own it. And you still make money off her.”
“Yeah, to keep the house from falling apart! I’m not getting rich from this, Jason. You know that.”
He shook his head, standing up from the couch. “It’s all the same. It’s about power. You have something she needs, and you make her pay for it.”
The next morning, things came to a head. I was on the phone with Maggie, confirming she’d bought the new freezer and that I’d reimburse her. Jason walked in as I was finishing the call.
“So, you’re paying for that?” he asked, sarcasm thick in his voice.
“Yes,” I replied, keeping my tone steady. “The freezer was part of the apartment when she moved in. It’s my responsibility.”
He stared at me, frustration bubbling over. “Unbelievable.”
“Jason, I don’t know what you want from me,” I said, trying to stay calm. “What do you expect me to do?”
He folded his arms, his face hard. “I want you to stop being part of the problem. Either stop charging rent or give me half of what you’re making. If you’re gonna be a landlord, at least share the profits.”
I stared at him, stunned. “Share the profits? Jason, I’m not running a business here. The rent barely covers costs.”
“I don’t care,” he snapped. “You’re either with me, or you’re not. If you’re gonna keep profiting off people like that, then I deserve my share, too.”
Something in me broke then. “I’m not giving you half of anything. I’ve worked hard to keep this house running. If you think I’m going to start handing over money just because you don’t like how I manage it, then you’re out of your mind.”
Before I could respond, he grabbed the keys from the coffee table and threw them across the room. They hit the wall with a sharp clatter, and the next thing I knew, he swung his fist, aiming for the wall. The impact wasn’t strong enough to punch through, but it echoed in the room, sending a tremor through me.
“Fine!” he shouted, stepping back. His face was red, and he was breathing heavily. “I’m done. I’m not staying here, not with you.”
My hand shook as I reached for my phone. “Jason, stop,” I said, my voice trembling. “Just calm down.”
But he was already moving toward the door. I quickly typed a text to my dad: Please come now.
Jason didn’t turn around as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The house felt silent, suddenly too big and too empty. I stood there, still shaking, listening to the sound of his footsteps disappearing down the driveway.
Within minutes, I heard my dad’s car pulling up. He didn’t ask questions when he saw me on the porch, arms wrapped around myself. He just pulled me into a hug, holding me tight as I tried to catch my breath.
“He’s gone,” I whispered, still stunned by how quickly it had all fallen apart.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of quiet knocking on my door. I still felt numb from the night before, Jason’s angry words echoing in my mind. I dragged myself to the door and opened it to see Maggie standing there with a small basket of freshly baked muffins.
“Hey, I heard about what happened,” she said softly. “I’m really sorry.”
I managed a weak smile, surprised she knew so quickly. “Thanks, Maggie. I’m okay.”
She handed me the basket. “I just wanted to bring these up. It’s nothing special, but I thought you could use something sweet.”
I took the basket, feeling warmth I hadn’t felt since Jason left. “You didn’t have to do that.
My Maid of Honor Declined to Wear the Dress I Selected for Her – Her Alternative Outfit at My Wedding Astonished Me
When Jessie’s maid of honor, Emily, showed up in a dress that Jessie didn’t pick, her picture-perfect wedding day took an unexpected turn. Emily’s shocking attire sparked chaos, setting the stage for some sweet payback.
Hey everyone, Jessie here! Two weeks ago, I married the love of my life, Kevin. It should’ve been the happiest day ever, right? Well, thanks to my so-called best friend, let’s just say it became a story for the ages — and not in a good way.
Emily, my supposed best friend, the woman I’d chosen as my maid of honor, managed to steal the spotlight in the most outrageous way possible…
Emily and I have been best friends since we were knee-high to a grasshopper. We practically grew up together.
Now, don’t get me wrong, Emily’s a great friend, supportive and always there for me. But there’s this one tiny, well, not-so-tiny detail about her — she’s a tad competitive.
It started small, you know, harmless races on the playground to see who could reach the swings first. In high school, it was all about grades—who could snag the highest GPA.
Then came college, and suddenly, it was about who could throw the most epic birthday bash. You name it, we “competed” at it. But hey, that was all in good fun, right? Or so I thought.
Despite her win-at-all-costs streak and arrogance, we always managed to stay close. I never really saw it as a competition; I just figured a little healthy rivalry pushed us both to be better.
We navigated life together, from scraped knees on the playground to the corporate jungle of our careers.
And when my boyfriend Kevin popped the question, there was no doubt in my mind who’d be my maid of honor—Emily, obviously.
Planning the wedding was a whirlwind of excitement. I wanted everything perfect, down to the last detail. Romantic elegance was the theme, with soft hues of lavender and blush creating a dreamy spring garden vibe.
The bridesmaids’ dresses were a beautiful shade of lavender, the perfect complement to the whole aesthetic. I mean, I was paying for everything, dresses included, so naturally, I wanted everyone to look stunning and harmonious.
The day of the final fitting arrived, and Emily came over, all smiles and sunshine.
But as soon as she saw the dress I’d picked for her, her smile completely vanished. She held the lavender fabric at arm’s length like it was some kind of contagious disease.
“Uh, Jess,” she mumbled, “I don’t think I can wear this.”
“What? Why not?” I furrowed my brow, completely confused. This was the dress we’d all picked out together, the one everyone agreed on. And it was gorgeous.
“This color just washes me out,” she whined. “I’ll look like a ghost in it.”
Honestly, that was a stretch. The dress would look amazing on her, like it was practically made for her curves. But Emily was never one to back down from an argument, especially when it came to “winning.”
“Come on, Em,” I tried to reassure her, “it’s the same dress everyone else is wearing. You would look beautiful, trust me.”
But she wasn’t having it. She huffed and puffed, making a scene about how unflattering the dress was and how she just couldn’t possibly walk down the aisle looking like a pale ghost.
My patience started to wear thin, but you know how it is with bridesmaids, especially your best friend. You just don’t want any drama, right? So, I caved.
I reluctantly agreed to let her pick out another dress, hoping she’d at least choose something that wouldn’t clash with the whole lavender theme.
Fast forward to the wedding day. Everything was picture-perfect — the flowers, the venue, even the weather cooperated and decided to bless us with a beautiful spring day.
Butterflies danced in my stomach as I stood at the altar, waiting for the music to cue the bridal party entrance. My bridesmaids walked down the aisle one by one, looking stunning in their lavender dresses, just as planned.
Then came Emily’s turn.
Leave a Reply