“I Gave My Son a House, Renovated It, and Bought Furniture. Now His Wife Wants to Sell It”

When Ethan was just five years old, I made a promise to myself. I would save enough money to buy him a house when he grew up. As a single mother, it wasn’t easy, but I was determined. I started taking on part-time jobs, working late into the night, and cutting back on personal expenses. Every penny I saved went into a special account for Ethan’s future.

Years went by, and my little boy grew up. He was always grateful for the sacrifices I made, and we shared a close bond. When Ethan turned 25, I surprised him with the keys to his very own house. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was a cozy two-bedroom home in a nice neighborhood. Ethan was overjoyed and couldn’t stop thanking me.

I didn’t stop there. I wanted to make sure the house was perfect for him. I spent months renovating it, making sure everything was just right. I painted the walls, replaced the old flooring, and even installed new kitchen cabinets. I poured my heart and soul into that house, wanting it to be a place where Ethan could build his future.

Once the renovations were complete, I bought new furniture for every room. I picked out a comfortable sofa for the living room, a sturdy dining table for family meals, and a cozy bed for Ethan’s bedroom. I even added little touches like curtains and decorative pillows to make the house feel like a home.

Ethan moved in and started his new life in the house I had worked so hard to provide for him. A few years later, he met Claire, and they fell in love. They got married and Claire moved into the house with Ethan. At first, everything seemed perfect. Claire was kind and seemed to appreciate all the effort I had put into making the house a home.

However, things started to change after a few months. Claire began talking about how the house wasn’t big enough for their future plans. She wanted a larger home with more modern amenities. I tried to understand her perspective, but it hurt to hear her criticize the house I had worked so hard on.

One day, Claire sat me down and told me she wanted to sell the house. She said it wasn’t suitable for their needs and that they could use the money from the sale to buy a bigger place. My heart sank. This house wasn’t just a property; it was a symbol of my love and dedication to Ethan.

I tried to reason with her, explaining how much effort and money had gone into making the house perfect for them. But Claire was adamant. She had already started looking at new houses and had even contacted a real estate agent.

Ethan was caught in the middle. He loved the house and appreciated everything I had done for him, but he also wanted to make Claire happy. He tried to find a compromise, but Claire wouldn’t budge. She wanted to sell the house, and she wanted to do it soon.

I felt helpless as I watched them prepare to put the house on the market. All those years of hard work and sacrifice seemed to be slipping away. The thought of someone else living in the house that I had poured my heart into was unbearable.

In the end, Claire got her way. The house was sold, and Ethan and Claire moved into a larger home in a different neighborhood. I tried to be happy for them, but it was difficult. The house had been more than just bricks and mortar; it had been a labor of love.

Now, every time I drive by that old neighborhood, I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness. The house that once symbolized my love and dedication is now just a memory. And while Ethan assures me that he appreciates everything I’ve done for him, it’s hard not to feel like something precious has been lost forever.