darkmaker said:Since your father managed to land himself an apartment, he could at least consider offering you some financial support to balance things out.
Regarding the whole living situation in that apartment—I get where you’re coming from. You aren't exactly looking to live solo, and if you were planning on bringing someone else into that space, I can see why you'd feel obligated. But from my perspective, as someone who actually occupies that space, having an extra person moving in just wouldn't sit right with me. It wouldn't be comfortable, and frankly, it isn't something I'd find acceptable. So, in that case, my answer would have to be no.
How do I even begin to put this into words? On paper, he’s all talk—he offers his help, makes these grand declarations about being there for me. But the second I actually hold him to it, the mask slips. He loses his mind. Suddenly, I’m being insulted and called incompetent just for asking for what was promised. So, yeah, he’s officially the last person on this planet I’ll ever turn to. It’s like knowing exactly which floorboards in an old house are going to creak; you just learn to walk around them. I know how to handle my own business—I can manage my grocery budget or figure out my bills without making a scene—but when things get heavy toward the end of the month, I've learned to stop looking his way entirely. It's easier to just deal with the stress alone than to face that kind of volatility.
If I brought my husband along, it wouldn't change much—unfortunately, he’s in the same boat. His parents don't have anything to leave behind, so there's no safety net there either. It’s just the two of us, leaning on ourselves, and honestly, we’ve managed to hold our own until now. He had a solid salary, I had a decent income, but this crisis hit both of us like a freight train. We just need a place to land, somewhere temporary where we can catch our breath and regroup. I’m not the type of person who likes to impose. I have too much pride for that, and I rarely find myself asking anyone for a handout. But lately, I can't help but wonder: why should I even have to beg my own father just to have a place to stay? That was supposed to be my mother's legacy. It’s a lot to process, and my head is spinning with all of it.
I realize this is a bit of a tangent from the legalities, but I suppose you’ve all helped me see things clearly. It’s become painfully obvious that the other side actually has a point in this argument.
There’s one crucial detail that changes the entire dynamic here: the father doesn't actually live in the apartment most of the time. He’s working out of state on a temporary contract, so he's rarely even around the property.
My husband and I aren't exactly chasing a massive inheritance or a sprawling estate. Honestly, we’d be perfectly content renting an apartment for the rest of our lives, provided we can make the monthly payments work. We don't need the bells and whistles; we just want stability. But there's this underlying ache that money can't touch. It isn't about the dollar amount; it’s this crushing sense of being rejected by my father. It feels like he's actively stripping away something that should rightfully be mine—whether that’s a family home or just some semblance of security. It’s more than just him refusing to help us out; it feels like he took something from me right when I was at my lowest point. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, and frankly, it's hard to shake.