Were selling your apartment and moving in with my parents, he repeated, stepping onto the balcony. Mam and pap have everything ready. A room upstairs, our own bathroom. Itll be easy.
Floor slowly set down the book shed been reading. The spring breeze was fresh, a relief after a stuffy winter. She studied her husband in the doorway. Joris looked determinedtoo determined for a lazy Saturday morning.
What did you say? she asked, hoping shed misheard.
Were selling your apartment and moving in with my parents, he repeated, stepping closer. Mam and pap have it all arranged. A room upstairs, private bathroom. Easy peasy.
Floor stared at him, unsure if this was a joke. Three years of marriage had taught her to read his moods, but now she was lost.
Joris, this is my omas apartment. She left it to me.
So? The place needs work, the bills are high. My parents have a big houseplenty of space. Well put the sale money into a savings account.
Whose savings account? Floor clarified.
Ours, of course. Mam says its the smart move. Shes always had a head for money.
Floor stood and walked to the railing. Below, kids played in the courtyard. She remembered running there herself as a child, visiting oma during school breaks.
Your mam decided what I should do with my apartment?
Dont start, Floor. Were just talking.
Talking? Youve already made plans.
Joris reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
Listen, it makes sense. Why keep two homes? My parents are getting older; they need help. And this place whats so special? Just another flat in a sleepy neighborhood.
My childhood was here, Floor said softly. Oma left it to me because she knew Id care for it.
Sentiment is sweet, but impractical. Mams rightwe need to think ahead.
Whose future? Your mams?
Joris frowned. He hated criticism of his parents, especially his mam. Marleen had raised him alone until she met Henk. Since then, Joris had made it his mission to defend her.
Floor, enough. The decisions made. Were meeting a makelaar on Monday.
What decision? Made by who?
By me. Im the head of this family.
Floor laughednot happily, but bitterly.
Head of the family? Seriously? Joris, I thought we were equals.
Equals dont cling to old junk. Mam sold her flat when she married pap. Theyre fine.
Your mam sold a tiny studio and moved into your paps big house. Bit of a difference.
Joris turned red. He hated when someone pointed out the obvious.
Dont talk about my parents like that!
Im stating facts. And heres anotherI am NOT selling this apartment.
Well see, Joris hissed, storming off.
Floor stayed on the balcony. The sun warmed her face. She thought of oma, whod worked as a nurse her whole life to buy this place. Floor, she used to say, a woman should always have her own space. Remember that.
That evening, Joris brought his parents for coffee. Floor knew better. Marleen swept in first, eyeing the apartment critically.
Hmm, hasnt been updated in twenty years, she announced. Peeling wallpaper, creaky floors. Imagine the cost to fix it up!
Henk shuffled in quietly and sat in an armchair, staying out of it.
Dag, Marleen, Henk, Floor greeted them. Coffee? Tea?
Green tea, no sugar, her mother-in-law replied. We watch our weight.
Floor went to the kitchen. Joris followed.
Dont be difficult, he said. My parents just want to help.
Help by taking my home?
Dont be dramatic. You wont be homeless.
No, Ill be living under your parents roof. By their rules, their schedule.
Whats wrong with rules? Mam likes things tidy.
Floor made the tea, hands shaking slightly.
In the living room, Marleen had already spread papers on the table.
Floor, sit, she commanded. We need to discuss details.
What details?
Selling the apartment, of course. Ive checkedthis place could fetch a decent price. Well have to lower it a bit, given the state, but still good.
Marleen, I am NOT selling.
Her mother-in-laws eyebrows shot up.
Excuse me? Joris said you agreed.
Joris LIED.
Floor! her husband exclaimed. We talked about this
You talked. I listened. And I saidNO.
Marleen stiffened, face hardening.
Meid, you dont understand. Joris is my only son. I wont let some
Some WHAT? Floor cut in. Finish that sentence.
Some girl from god-knows-where manipulate him.
Im manipulating him? Youre the one forcing me to sell my home!
Henk cleared his throat.
Marleen, maybe dont
Quiet, Henk! she snapped. Floor, be reasonable. Youll be more comfortable with us. Big kitchen, garden, even a sauna. What more could you want?
Freedom, Floor replied.
Freedom? From what? From family?
From your CONTROL.
Marleen flushed.
Im controlling? I care! About my son, his future!
His future or YOURS? Floor shot back. Why do you need money from my apartment?
Silence. Marleen and Henk exchanged glances. Joris looked between them and Floor.
What are you implying? he protested. Floor, youre out of line!
Just asking. If your parents are so well-off, why do they need my apartments money?
Not yoursours! Were family! Marleen cried.
NO, Floor said firmly. This apartment is in my name. Its MINE.
Selfish! her mother-in-law spat. Joris, do you see who you married?
Mam, calm down
Dont tell me what to do! I raised you, gave up everything for you! And you bring thisinto our home
Enough, Floor stood. Leave my apartment. Now.
What? Joris gaped. Floor, you cant throw my parents out!
I can, and I am. Marleen, Henkdag.
Marleen stood, trembling with rage.
Joris, were leaving. If your wife doesnt value family, we have no place here.
But, Mam
Now!
Joris looked helplessly at Floor, then his mother.
Floor, apologize. Youre wrong.
For what? Not giving up my home?
For insulting my mother!
She insulted me first. But of course you didnt notice.
Joris clenched his fists.
You know what? Maybe Mams right. You only think about yourself.
And you only think about your mother. Maybe you shouldve married her?
Joris went pale. Marleen grabbed his arm.
Come, jongen. Dont waste time on ingrates.
They left, slamming the door. Alone, Floor stared at the papers on the tablelistings, makelaar contacts, even a draft contract.
They planned it all, she realized. Never doubted Id say yes.
The next days passed in silence. Joris slept on the couch, left early, came home late. When she tried to talk, he grunted replies.
On Thursday, Floor came home to find a stranger measuring the rooms.
Who are you? Howd you get in?
Daan, taxateur, the man said. Your husband gave me the keys for a valuation.
He had no right. Leave.
But Im almost done
OUT. Now.
The man shrugged and left. Floor called Joris.
How dare you bring a taxateur without asking?
Just checking the value. No harm.
Joris, this is MY home. You dont get to decide.
Youre my wife. Whats yours is mine.
NO. Its premarital property.
Technicalities. We love each other.
Love doesnt mean stealing my apartment.
Stealing? Youre accusing me of theft?
What else do you call selling someone elses home?
Joris hung up. He didnt come home. Floor called his friend Bram.
Hes here, Bram said. Floor, whats going on?
Ask him.
He says you wont compromise.
I wont sell my home. Is that a crime?
No, but cant you meet halfway?
What halfway? Sell and be dependent on his mother?
Bram hesitated.
I dont know. But Joris is upset. Says his mam is crying.
Let her cry. Thats no reason to take my home.
On Saturday, the doorbell rang. A woman in a sharp suit stood there.
Linda, attorney for the De Vries family, she said. May I come in?
De VriesMarleens maiden name. Reluctantly, Floor let her in.
Floor, Im here about the apartment.
Not for sale.
I understand. But lets be fair. Youve been married to Joris for three years. His family has done a lot for you.
Like what?
The wedding, holidays, gifts
Gifts arent loans. Or did Marleen expect payback?
Linda smiled thinly.
Marleen is generous. But she expects the same in return.
So, blackmail?
Not at all. Just a reminderfamily means helping each other.
Helping isnt robbery.
Youre exaggerating. The sale money would go to family needs.
What needs?
Linda hesitated.
Thats private.
If its about my apartment, its my business.
Floor, dont make this harder. Marleen is willing to compromise. Youd have your own room at their place.
How kind. A room in exchange for my apartment.
Plus being with family.
A family bleeding me dry.
Linda sighed.
Youre being unreasonable. Joris could divorce you.
Let him.
And demand half the assets.
Premarital property isnt shared.
But you renovated during the marriage. With Joriss money.
Floor laughed.
You mean the paint job that cost 200? Seriously?
Any improvements can make it joint property.
Good luck proving that.
Linda stood.
Floor, think. Is an apartment worth losing your family?
Im not the one losing it.
The lawyer left a card. Floor tore it up.
On Monday, her colleague Anouk asked, Is it true youre divorcing?
Whered you hear that?
Joris posted online. Says you kicked him out and dont care about family.
Floor checked his socials. A long post about her selfishness, how she chose bricks over love.
I suggested living with my parents, he wrote. But shed rather keep her old flat than save our marriage.
Dozens of comments blamed the greedy wife.
Floor called him.
Delete it.
Why? Its true.
Its a lie. I didnt kick you out. You left.
After you insulted my mam.
Joris, DELETE it or Ill post my side.
Go ahead. See who they believe.
That evening, Floor wrote her versionfacts only: the pressure, the lies, the lawyer.
The drama exploded. Friends picked sides. Some backed her, others Joris.
A week later, Joris came home. He looked roughtired, unshaven.
Floor, we need to talk.
About what?
Us. Our future.
Do we have one?
Joris sank onto the couch, head in hands.
I dont want a divorce. But Mam
What about her?
She says if I dont make you sell, shell cut me out of the will.
Whats in this will?
The house, savings, paps business.
So youre choosing: me or your parents money?
Its not that simple!
It is. Either you love me and respect my home, or you love their cash.
Dont oversimplify!
Then dont lie. Joris, be honestwhy does your mam need my apartments money?
Silence. Then, quietly:
Theyre in debt.
What? I thought they were rich!
They were. Pap made bad investments. Lost almost everything. The house is mortgaged.
Floor sat beside him.
Why didnt you just say so?
Mam forbade it. Family business, she said.
And the solution is my apartment?
Itd buy time. Pay off the worst debts.
Joris, thats not a solution. Thats a Band-Aid.
What else? Let them lose the house?
Honesty wouldve helped. If theyd told the truth, we couldve figured something out.
Like what?
Rent the apartment. Steady income, at least. Floor reached for Joriss hand, this time not pulling away. We couldve talked. Together. Instead of plans behind my back, lawyers, lies online.
Joris looked at the floor, voice barely above a whisper. I was scared. Of losing them. Of failing you.
Youre not failing me by needing help, she said. Youre failing us by hiding.
He exhaled, shaky. Mam wont like it. Renting instead of selling.
Then shell have to live with it. Because Im not signing anything. Not under pressure. Not for anyone.
Joris nodded slowly. Ill tell her. Itll be ugly.
It already is, Floor said. But at least after this, itll be honest.
Outside, the courtyard lights flickered on. A child laughed. Somewhere down the street, a door closed. The apartment stood quiet around them, worn and familiar, hers.
And for the first time in weeks, it felt like home again.
