You know that feeling when you think you’ve found your people, only to discover they were just waiting for the right moment to show their true colors? That’s exactly what happened when my roommates found out about my inheritance and demanded I pay more rent.
I’m Polly, and three months ago, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. A gorgeous apartment in Riverside Heights. It was spacious, bright, and somehow priced like a closet in the bad part of town. It was too good to pass up, so I called my friends.
An empty apartment | Source: Unsplash
“Hey, want to split this amazing place?” I’d asked, practically bouncing with excitement.
They jumped at the chance. Who wouldn’t?
The catch was simple: The apartment was completely unfurnished. But I had boxes of stuff from my childhood home. My parents had been itching to clear out their garage anyway. Sofas, kitchen gadgets, dishes, and even the quirky lamp shaped like a pineapple that everyone secretly loved.
For weeks, it felt like we were living in some perfect sitcom. We shared everything. My coffee maker became “our” coffee maker. My grandmother’s china became the “good plates” we’d use for special occasions.
Then my grandma passed away last month.
People gathered at a funeral | Source: Pexels
The funeral was small and quiet. Grandma Regina had always been the steady force in our family. She was the one who remembered birthdays, sent care packages during college, and somehow always knew exactly what to say when life got messy.
When the lawyer called about her will, I almost didn’t answer. Grief has a way of making everything feel surreal.
“She left you some money, dear,” he’d said gently. “Not a fortune, but enough for a good start in life.”
It wasn’t millions. Just enough to maybe put a down payment on a small place someday, or feel secure for the first time since graduating college.
Close-up shot of dollar bills | Source: Unsplash
I casually mentioned it to my roommates one evening while we were sharing pizza on my couch.
“That’s amazing, Polly!” Mia said, genuinely happy for me. “Your grandma would be so proud knowing she could help you like that.”
Marcus nodded. “She always seemed like such a sweet lady when she’d visit.”
I felt grateful. These were good people, I thought. People who understood loss and celebrated small victories.
How wrong I was.
A woman lost in thought | Source: Midjourney
The next evening, I walked into what felt like an ambush.
All three of them sat around my dining table, the one I’d inherited from my aunt. Their expression looked like it belonged in a boardroom and not our living room.
“We need to talk,” Mia announced, her voice suddenly formal.
I set down my work bag slowly. “About what?”
Marcus cleared his throat. “About the rent situation.”
“Since you got that inheritance,” Jake added, arms crossed, “we think it’s time to adjust how we split expenses.”
A man smiling | Source: Pexels
The words hit me like a bag of bricks. “Adjust how?”
“You can afford more now!” Mia explained, as if she were being perfectly reasonable. “It only makes sense that you’d contribute more to the household.”
I stared at them. These people I’d lived with, laughed, and shared late-night conversations about our dreams and fears.
“You want me to pay more rent because my grandmother left me an inheritance?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Marcus said. “This is about fairness. You have more money than us now.”
A frustrated man | Source: Freepik
“Fairness? Was it fair when I furnished this entire place? When I bought groceries for everyone because I ‘happened to be at the store anyway’?”
Mia shifted uncomfortably. “That’s different. You offered.”
“Right. I offered. Just like my grandma offered to work herself to the bone so her family could have something. And now you want a piece of that sacrifice?”
“Look, we’re not asking for charity,” Marcus jumped in. “Just a reasonable adjustment.”
Adjustment? As if my grandma’s love and years of saving had been reduced to a simple math equation.
“I’ll think about it,” I managed, my voice barely steady.
A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Grandma’s words echoed in my memory: “People will show you who they really are when it comes to money, sweetheart. When they do, believe them.”
By morning, I made my decision.
I started with a list. Every single item in our shared space that belonged to me. The couch they lounged on every evening. The coffee maker that brewed their morning fuel. The dishes we ate from, the lamps that lit our conversations, and even the shower curtain in the bathroom.
While my roommates were at work, I began moving the things. Not out of spite. Out of clarity. If they wanted to treat me like a walking ATM rather than a grieving friend, then perhaps it was time to reset our arrangement.
A woman labelling a box | Source: Pexels
My bedroom resembled a furniture warehouse. And the living room looked like a vacant rental listing.
When Mia came home first, I heard her keys drop.
“What the hell happened in here?”
By evening, all three stood in our now-empty living room like they’d walked into the wrong apartment.
“Where’s everything?” Marcus demanded.
“In my room!” I said calmly, sipping tea from my mug. “I figured since I’m the ‘rich one’ now, I shouldn’t burden you with my belongings.”
A woman smiling calmly | Source: Midjourney
Jake’s face turned red. “This is insane. You can’t just take everything.”
“Everything?” I laughed. “You mean my everything. The couch I inherited from my aunt. The coffee maker my parents bought me for graduation. The dishes Grandma gave me when I moved out.”
“But we all used them,” Mia protested.
“Yes, you did. Because I shared. Past tense.”
“You can’t do this.”
“Actually, I can take what’s mine. And I have.”
Mia threw her hands up. “We didn’t mean you had to remove your stuff. We just thought…”
An angry woman | Source: Midjourney
“You thought wrong.” I set down my mug. “You thought because someone I loved died and left me something, you deserved a piece of it. You thought my grief was your opportunity.”
“That’s not…” Marcus started.
“It’s exactly what it was! Grandma worked double shifts as a nurse for 40 years. She saved every penny so her family could have something better. And you saw that as your lottery ticket.”
The silence stretched between us like a chasm.
“This is petty,” Mia finally snapped.
“Maybe. But it’s also fair.”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
The next few weeks were beautifully awkward. They scrambled to buy basics. Mismatched chairs from garage sales, a coffee maker from the discount store, and plates that didn’t match anything.
They tried guilt-tripping me first. “We’re supposed to be friends, Polly.”
Then anger. “You’re being completely unreasonable.”
Then bargaining. “What if we split rent differently? Not based on your inheritance, just… differently?”
I remained politely unmoved. When they ate cereal from coffee mugs because they couldn’t afford proper bowls, I didn’t offer mine. When they sat on the floor because finding furniture took time and money, I read comfortably on my couch in my room.
A woman lying on the couch and reading a book | Source: Pexels
“This is ridiculous,” Jake hissed one morning, standing in our kitchen with its empty counters. “When are you going to stop this?”
I looked up from making breakfast with my own pans. “Stop what? Living within my means? I thought that’s what you wanted… for everyone to contribute according to their financial situation.”
His jaw clenched. “You know that’s not what we meant.”
“Enlighten me then. What exactly did you mean when you said I should pay more because I inherited money from my dead grandmother?”
“We meant…”
“You meant you saw an opportunity to pay less rent. You meant my grief was your gain.”
A woman yelling at a man | Source: Midjourney
When our lease came up for renewal, I made my announcement over dinner.
“I’m not renewing!”
Three forks stopped mid-air.
“What do you mean?” Mia gasped.
“I found a place. A one-bedroom in Rosewood Gardens. I’ll be moving out next month.”
“You can’t afford that alone,” Marcus protested.
I smiled. “Actually, thanks to Grandma’s gift, I can. She always wanted me to be independent.”
The irony wasn’t lost on any of us. Their demand for more money had given me the push I needed to use Grandma’s inheritance exactly as she would’ve wanted… for my own fresh start.
A woman holding a bundle of money | Source: Pexels
“We can work this out,” Jake said desperately. “We can go back to how things were.”
“No. We can’t.”
***
Moving day arrived with surprising peace. As I loaded my furniture, couch, kitchen supplies, and Grandma’s china into the truck, I felt lighter than I had in months.
I left one thing behind. A note taped to the empty refrigerator:
“Thank you for showing me the difference between roommates & friends. Grandma always said life has a way of teaching us what we need to know. Turns out, she was right about that too. Take care! ;)”
As I drove away, I caught sight of them in my rearview mirror, standing in the doorway of an apartment that suddenly looked as empty as their understanding of friendship had been.
A woman driving her car | Source: Unsplash
My new place is smaller, quieter, and completely mine. That first morning, I made coffee in Grandma’s honor and sat by the window, watching the sunrise paint everything gold.
“Thanks, Grandma,” I whispered. “For the money, yes. But mostly for the lesson.”
Sometimes the most valuable inheritance isn’t what someone leaves you. It’s what they teach you about your own worth.
An apartment interior | Source: Unsplash
