When my boyfriend moved in, everything seemed perfect, until he discovered I owned the property. It wasn’t something I thought would matter, but his reaction sparked a conflict neither of us saw coming.
I was eighteen when my dad handed me the keys to my own house. It was an old two-story building that had been in the family for years. His gift meant everything to me. We weren’t rich, not even close.
A small house | Source: Pexels
Dad had bought the house for a bargain from his grandmother’s cousin, and I knew what a privilege it was. Every time I walked through the front door, I felt grateful.
The house had its quirks. Each floor was like its own apartment, with separate entrances, kitchens, and bathrooms. I lived upstairs, and I rented out the downstairs to a sweet woman named Maggie.
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She paid $500 a month—below market price for most places, but I wasn’t in it for the money. The rent just covered the basic upkeep. I handled everything myself, and it gave me a little independence.
Three months ago, my boyfriend, Jason, moved in with me. We’d been together for six months, and it just made sense. His lease was up, and my place had the room. Plus, it felt good to be building something together.
A couple and several boxes in a room. | Source: Getty Images
He was easygoing about most things, and we split groceries 50/50, which worked for both of us. As far as finances went, though, we never really talked about anything beyond day-to-day stuff.
He didn’t ask about rent, and I didn’t bring up that I owned the place. It wasn’t that I was hiding it; it just never seemed important.
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One night, while we were watching the news, a story came on about rising rent prices. Jason groaned and said, “Man, landlords are the worst. They’re all about the money. It’s like they don’t care if people can’t afford a place to live.”
I stayed quiet, focusing on my tea, not really knowing what to say. I wasn’t sure how to explain that, technically, I was a landlord. But I wasn’t like the ones he was talking about. I charged fair rent. I didn’t try to squeeze every penny out of my tenant.
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Jason went on, shaking his head. “It’s just messed up, you know? People shouldn’t be making money off something basic like housing.”
I nodded, changing the subject as soon as I could. We spent the rest of the night like normal, 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 between us, so I let it slide.
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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 standing there, 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.”
A woman knocking on a door. | Source: Shutterstock
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 right away.”
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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 little 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?”
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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 get it. Why would that be your responsibility?”
I could feel the tension creeping in. “Because… it’s my house. I rent it out to her.”
Jason stared at me, his face changing as he processed what I’d just said.
“You own this place?” His voice was sharp, more surprised than I expected.
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“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 keep it a secret.”
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.
A worried-looking woman and a man behind her. | Source: Shutterstock
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, quieter, and something felt off. I didn’t want to push him, so I gave him space, hoping things would go back to normal. But that didn’t happen.
A man and woman on bad terms. | Source: Shutterstock
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 never seemed important. You never asked.”
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“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.
“All this time, 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.
A man talking to his girlfriend | Source: Pexels
“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 the news.”
He shook his head. “But you’re still making money off someone else’s need for a home.”
I felt the anger rise 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 corporate landlord out to bleed people dry.”
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“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.”
A man burying his head in his hands | Source: Pexels
The next morning, things came to a head. I was on the phone with Maggie, confirming she’d bought the new freezer and 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 even. “The freezer was part of the apartment when she moved in. It’s my responsibility.”
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He stared at me, his frustration bubbling over. “Unbelievable.”
“Jason, I don’t know what you want from me,” I said, trying to keep 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.”
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I stared at him, stunned. “Share the profits? Jason, I’m not running some business here. The rent barely covers the 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.”
An angry woman with hands on her hips | Source: Freepik
Before I could respond, he grabbed the keys from the coffee table and hurled 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 drywall. The impact wasn’t enough to punch through, but the thud echoed in the room, and the force of it sent a tremor through me.
“Fine!” he shouted, stepping back. His face was red, his breathing heavy. “I’m done. I’m not staying here, not with you.”
An angry shouting man | Source: Freepik
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.
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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.
A man opening a door down a hallway. | Source: Getty Images
Within minutes, I heard the sound of my dad’s car pulling up. He didn’t ask questions when he saw me on the porch, my 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 fast it had all fallen apart.
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The next morning, I woke up to the sound of quiet knocking on my door. I still felt numb from the night before, the echoes of Jason’s angry words playing in my mind. I dragged myself to the door and opened it to see Maggie standing there, holding a small basket of freshly baked muffins.
“Hey, I heard about what happened,” she said softly. “I’m really sorry.”
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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, but I figured you could use something sweet.”
I took the basket, feeling a warmth I hadn’t felt since Jason had stormed out. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”
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Maggie smiled gently, then hesitated. “You know, I just want to say… I’ve had a lot of landlords over the years. Some bad, some worse. But you? You’re one of the good ones. You actually care, and I’ve always appreciated that.”
I stood there for a moment, watching her walk back downstairs. The house felt a little less empty, a little more like home again. And for the first time in days, I felt like I was going to be okay.
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Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: My story is all about standing up for yourself when wronged. The way I did it was quite cunning and was linked to why my landlord ended my contract in the first place. When my landlord realized he’d make a mistake letting me go, he tried begging me to come back, but I wasn’t having it.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
