**Diary Entry**
*”I’m not your child’s babysitter!”*—how an old prudiv split sisterly bonds years later.
“I won’t be looking after your little sister!” Emily snapped back then, and those words cut into Sarah like a knife. They echoed not just in their mother’s heart but also in the wide, tear-filled eyes of nine-year-old Lily, who stood frozen in the doorway, hearing every word.
After losing her husband, Sarah was left alone with their two daughters. Emily, the eldest, was fifteen, while Lily was barely nine. Family support was scarce—her late husband’s mother preferred to stay out of it, and Sarah’s own mum lived up north in Manchester, visiting only a few times a year. The weight of it all fell on Sarah’s weary shoulders. Money was tight, and even her emotional strength was running thin.
Lily had always shown a gift for painting. Winning a local art competition earned her a scholarship to a prestigious art school, but the schedule was gruelling—lessons four times a week. Two days Sarah could just barely manage with work, but the other two clashed entirely. Her boss was already eyeing her with disapproval. So she turned to Emily for help.
“You finish school early those days—couldn’t you take Lily and wait for her?” Sarah asked softly, searching her daughter’s face for understanding.
The reply was ice-cold. “I’m not a babysitter! I’m still a kid myself! I want time to unwind after school, not drag Lily all over town!” Then, like a dagger to the heart: “Maybe you shouldn’t have had two if you couldn’t handle them!”
Sarah couldn’t hold back the tears. She turned away, ready to escape to her room, but there stood Lily by the door, silent sobs shaking her small frame. She’d heard everything. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around her mother.
An unexpected lifeline came from another girl’s grandmother at the art school. She lived nearby and was happy to take Lily to class. Slowly, life settled into a rhythm. Within a year, Lily was making the journey alone, and the sting of her sister’s betrayal sank deep—unspoken, but never forgotten.
Years passed. Lily got into university, started freelance illustrating, and rented her own flat. Sarah moved in with her mum. Emily married and moved to Bristol, where she had a son. It all seemed smooth—until one night, Lily’s phone rang.
Emily was sobbing. “He threw us out! Said he couldn’t take my moods anymore. Won’t pay child support! We’ve nowhere to go…”
Lily didn’t hesitate—she told them to come stay. But when Emily asked her to watch her nephew so she could find work, the answer was firm. “Sorry, Em, but I won’t be your child’s babysitter. He’s yours—not mine. I don’t owe you anything.”
Emily exploded. “I’m your sister!”
“Remember what you said to Mum when you were fifteen? That you refused to take me to art school? Mum cried like a little girl. I stood there, hearing it all. And you know what? After that, I never felt like you were my sister. You chose yourself. Now I’m choosing me.”
Emily hung up without another word.
These days, Lily juggles work and studies. Emily and her son share her flat, but the distance between them is a chasm. Lily helps—because it’s the right thing to do. Because she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t. But the warmth is gone. No kindness, no sisterly fondness.
That little girl who once watched her sister refuse to stand by her? She’s a woman now. And she knows the weight of words.
So here’s the question—should Lily have forgiven her? Should she have helped with the babysitting? Or do you sometimes have to leave behind those who wouldn’t lift a finger when you needed them most?
