I’ve got a sister I don’t want anything to do with anymore. Our relationship’s been broken for ages, and now I see it clearly—we’re just too different to ever get along. Her name’s Charlotte, and she lives in this massive, fancy mansion on the outskirts of London. Her house has everything—huge rooms, top-notch gadgets, even a private swimming pool in the garden. She worked hard for it, started by earning big abroad, then set up her own business back here in the UK. She’s a lawyer, and a really successful one at that. But that success hasn’t made her the kind of person you’d actually want to spend time with.
I’m Emily, five years younger than Charlotte. We grew up together in this little town where everyone knew everyone. Our parents were ordinary working-class folks—Mum was a teacher, Dad worked at the factory. As kids, we were close, sharing secrets and dreaming about the future. But as we got older, Charlotte changed. She was always ambitious, wanted more than our little town could offer. After school, she left to study in London, then moved abroad. I used to be so proud of her, believing she’d achieve great things and stay the same kind-hearted person. But I was wrong.
When she came back years later, she was a completely different woman—cold, arrogant. She talked to me like I wasn’t her sister but some random acquaintance who didn’t understand her “high society life.” Half the things she said felt like digs—why wasn’t I aiming higher? Why was I content with a “simple life”? And honestly, I never wanted to compete. I’ve got my own happiness—I work at a library, I’ve got my husband James and our two kids. We’re not rich, but we’re happy. I love my job, our cosy family nights, taking the kids to the park. But to Charlotte, it all seems pathetic.
Once, I invited her to my daughter Sophie’s birthday party, thinking maybe we could mend things. She showed up, but the whole time, it was like she was doing us a favour just by being there. She criticised everything—the food, our modest little house, even how we raise our kids. She bought Sophie this expensive tablet as a gift, then said, “Maybe now you’ll actually learn something useful.” I was stunned. James tried to lighten the mood, but Charlotte just sighed and kept checking her watch. That night, I knew—I didn’t want her in my life anymore.
The last straw was what happened with our mum. She got seriously ill and needed an operation. I took time off work, looked after her, found the best doctors. Charlotte knew, but she didn’t even call or visit. Just sent a text: “Send me the bill, I’ll transfer the money.” I never asked for her cash—I wanted her to be there, to support Mum. But to Charlotte, everything’s measured in pounds, isn’t it? Mum recovered, but she never got that call from her eldest daughter. It broke her heart, and it made me see my sister for who she really is.
Now, Charlotte lives her life, and I live mine. Sometimes she texts, invites me over to her fancy house, but I always say no. I don’t want to hear her lectures or watch her show off. I don’t need her money or her gifts. I’ve got my family, my kids, the little things that make me happy. Maybe she thinks I’m a failure—fine. I know happiness isn’t in swimming pools or flashy cars.
Some days, I miss the Charlotte I remember from childhood. But that girl’s gone. In her place is a woman who’s forgotten what family means. I don’t hate her, but I don’t want her in my life either. I’ve got James, the kids, my friends—people who actually value me. Charlotte can stay in her perfect little world. Maybe one day she’ll realise what she’s lost.
