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This article is part of Home & Decor’s monthly editorial topics series — crafted around real, current problems that many Singaporean homeowners face. Jam-packed with personal recounts, opinions, and expert takes, we hope that these weekly pieces will inspire you, and bring you solutions that you can take into your own home.
March’s topic: ’Living Big in Small Spaces’. Article 2/4.
Confession: My husband and I got married last year. Instead of nesting in our dream BTO flat, we’re crammed into my old childhood bedroom at my parents’ place.
It’s a space just big enough for a queen bed, two narrow desks (that look something like this), two rolling chairs and one nightstand.
What used to be my one‑person sanctuary — walls plastered with Lee Minho posters, fairy lights, and enough soft toys to fill a claw machine — is now a shared zone for his desktop, our clothes, and dignity.
I had to get rid of 50 per cent of my stuff, or risk RenovAID turning up to film an entire series in my room.
The Reality Check
Like so many couples in 2026, we’re in that limbo phase.
I know, no one likes the idea of moving in with in-laws, but we didn’t really have a choice — with our BTO arriving in a year and rental prices sky high, staying with parents feels like the only practical thing to do. After all, how hard could it be to share one room?
Turns out, very hard.
He craves doomscrolling; I blast K-dramas at 10pm. His gym gear invades my side of the bed; my skincare routine turns the desk into a lab explosion. We snapped more in our first month of marriage here than in our seven years of dating life.
Before my husband even moved in, I had to start decluttering. Every corner was packed: books, clothes, a decade’s worth of sentimental bits and pieces. Then came the reality check — we weren’t allowed to dump anything in the living room.
My parents were firm: their house, their rules. We either had to find a way to fit everything into my room or get rid of it.
It’s one thing to share a hotel room on holiday. It’s another to live, work, rest and argue in a small space with nowhere to storm off after a spat. Every small habit gets magnified — the way he turns on the hair dryer every day at 6am, and the way I hoard disposable chopsticks “just in case”.
And since we were both working from home several days a week, the room had to transform constantly: office by day, bedroom by night, storage unit by default. There were days when even breathing in sync felt like hard work.
Making the Space Work for Two
We used to miss each other after a long day. Now, our chairs literally bump into each other while we work. I used to sleep like a starfish across the whole bed; now I curl up on one side while he doomscrolls quietly with headphones. He likes the fan, I like the aircon, so we compromise by switching on the aircon.
What saved us wasn’t buying new furniture (okay, we technically did buy a storage bed frame), but shifting our mindset. We decided to stop treating the room like a temporary crash pad and start seeing it as our first home together — even if it wasn’t what we’d imagined.
We purged ruthlessly. Anything that didn’t serve both of us had to go. This included Primary school trophies, rarely worn clothes, and most unfortunately, posters of my OG husband. Letting go freed up space and lightened the emotional load.
We divided invisible zones. His side of the wardrobe, my corner for skincare, a shared night shelf for chargers. Clear boundaries reduced friction and the “where did you put my…” arguments.
We also divided chores early on. He cleans the floor; I handle dust on surfaces. It may sound simple, but nothing stirs up more resentment than stepping on a wild, wet sock after a tiring day at work.
Navigating parents, privacy and patience
Living with parents as a married couple is humbling. No matter how old you are, you’ll always be their child. We had to carve out small pockets of independence without stepping on toes. I’d check with my mum before buying anything that requires refrigerating, and my husband made an effort to wash the dishes and mop the living room even when he was tired.
We also built small rituals to give each other personal space. He’d go out with his friends while I stayed back to rot in bed. Almost weekly, I would go out for 8-hour long mahjong sessions.
It wasn’t ideal, but those micro breaks made a difference — our version of “me time” until we eventually get more square feet.
Redefining “Home” for Now
As we draw closer towards getting our keys, I find myself fantasising more often about our upcoming BTO flat — placing my auto mahjong table in the middle of the living room, hosting friends without tiptoeing around curfews, and leaving the laundry basket out without judgement.
But in truth, this little room has quietly shaped our marriage in unexpected ways.
We’ve learned to compromise, communicate, and show gratitude to each other. Managing a space this tight forces you to grow up quickly — not just as individuals, but as partners.
And when our house finally comes, I know we’ll look back on this chapter with affection. Because for all its chaos and constraints, this childhood bedroom is where we built our first real version of home together.