“When I Brought My Sick Mother Home, My Husband Demanded I Rent Her an Apartment”

I met Roger right after graduating from high school. He was charming, intelligent, and had a way of making me feel like the most important person in the world. Our connection was instant, and it wasn’t long before we started talking about our future together. We got married quickly, without much thought or planning. Our wedding was a grand affair held at a beautiful mansion, and we celebrated for three days straight, just as my family tradition dictated.

My mother, Eva, was overjoyed to see me so happy. She had always been my rock, supporting me through every decision and every challenge. Her wedding gift to us was a generous sum of money, which we used to put a down payment on our first home. Life seemed perfect.

Years passed, and Roger and I settled into our routines. We both had demanding jobs but managed to make time for each other. However, things took a turn when my mother fell seriously ill. She was diagnosed with a debilitating condition that required constant care and attention. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone, so I decided to bring her to live with us.

When I told Roger about my decision, he was less than enthusiastic. “Lily, we need to think this through,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “Our house isn’t equipped for someone who needs that level of care.”

“But she’s my mother, Roger,” I replied, tears welling up in my eyes. “I can’t just leave her alone.”

Reluctantly, he agreed to let her stay with us temporarily while we figured out a more permanent solution. The first few weeks were challenging but manageable. I took time off work to care for her, and we hired a part-time nurse to help out.

One evening, as we sat down for dinner, Roger dropped a bombshell. “Lily, I’ve been thinking,” he began cautiously. “We need to find another place for your mother. This arrangement isn’t sustainable.”

I was stunned. “What do you mean? Where would she go?”

“We can rent her an apartment nearby,” he suggested. “That way, she can have her own space, and we can have ours.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Roger, she’s too sick to live on her own! How can you even suggest that?”

He sighed deeply. “Lily, this is affecting our marriage. We barely have any time for each other anymore. We need to find a balance.”

His words cut deep, but I knew he had a point. Our relationship had been strained ever since my mother moved in. Still, the thought of putting her in an apartment felt like abandoning her.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension between us grew unbearable. Roger became increasingly distant, spending more time at work and less time at home. I felt torn between my duty as a daughter and my role as a wife.

One night, after another heated argument, Roger packed his bags and left. “I can’t do this anymore, Lily,” he said as he walked out the door. “I need some space.”

I was devastated. My marriage was falling apart, and I felt utterly alone. My mother sensed my distress but was too weak to offer much comfort.

In the end, I had no choice but to rent an apartment for my mother. It broke my heart to see her move out, but I couldn’t risk losing Roger completely. I visited her every day, but it wasn’t the same.

Roger eventually returned home, but things were never the same between us. The love and connection we once shared had been replaced by resentment and regret. My mother’s health continued to decline, and she passed away a few months later.

As I stood by her grave, I couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if I had made other choices. But life doesn’t offer do-overs, and all I could do was carry on with the weight of my decisions.