My little sister, Emily, is completely miffed with me. She needs help with her son, and I said no. She’s shouting about how we’re family and how unfair I’m being, conveniently forgetting how she turned her back on me when I needed her, refusing to take my daughter, Sophie, to the seaside. Her selfishness broke my heart, and I’m done sacrificing myself for people who don’t appreciate it. We live in a small town near Manchester, and this whole mess was the final straw.
Last month, Emily burst into my house, eyes sparkling. “We’re off to the coast! Me, James, little Oliver, and my mother-in-law!” They’d already booked a cottage, planned day trips, and I was genuinely happy for them. But then my heart sank for Sophie. I freelance, and this year—much to my regret—I couldn’t swing a holiday. Work’s been mad, and my income depends on it, but it leaves barely any time for my girl. Sophie’s my sunshine, but I couldn’t give her the bright summer she dreams of. My mum and friends do what they can—Mum takes her out despite her own job, and my mates let her tag along with their kids. Without them, Sophie would be stuck indoors.
I’m a single mum. My ex ran off to start a shiny new family with a son, and he’s barely glanced at Sophie since—no calls, no help. I pull all-nighters just to keep us afloat. So when I heard Emily was off to Devon, a tiny hope flared: maybe Sophie could go with them. It’s just the four of them—Emily, James, Oliver, and the in-laws—so looking after one more kid wouldn’t be a hassle. I offered to cover all the costs, just so my girl could feel the sea breeze and be happy for once.
I hesitantly asked Emily. “Please take Sophie,” I begged. “I’ll pay her way, she won’t be any trouble.” But my sister shut me down. “Two kids will ruin the trip. We don’t want the hassle of someone else’s child.” Her words stung. Someone else’s? Sophie’s her own niece! I tried explaining how well-behaved Sophie is, how I’d handle everything, but Emily wouldn’t budge. “We won’t relax if we’re watching your daughter too.” My heart cracked. I swallowed it—no seaside for Sophie this year. But resentment settled in, along with a firm resolve: no more sacrificing myself for my sister.
Emily’s used to me being her go-to babysitter. She thinks because I work from home, I’m always free to mind Oliver. I put up with it, even though it drained me—fetching him when she had doctor’s appointments or salon trips, because “we’re family.” But after she refused Sophie, it hit me: she doesn’t value my help, she expects it. She doesn’t care about me or my daughter. Her mother-in-law lives miles away, and I’m her only option—but that doesn’t mean I have to be her unpaid nanny.
When Emily got back from her holiday, tanned and cheery, she came knocking again. They’d been invited to a posh weekend in the Cotswolds—child-free. She assumed, as always, I’d step in. “You’ll watch Oliver, won’t you?” she chirped. I gave her a flat no. “I’ve got deadlines, and I want time with Sophie.” She gaped. “But we’re family! He’s your nephew!” I reminded her how she’d called Sophie a burden. “You said my daughter wasn’t your problem. So why should you be mine?” Her face twisted in anger, but I didn’t back down.
Emily threw a fit, shrieking about how heartless I was. “Now we can’t go! Even Mum’s working, she can’t take him!” But I held my ground. My heart ached for Sophie, who missed out because of Emily’s selfishness. I won’t shortchange my girl for someone who tramples over my feelings. Emily’s used to me saying yes—but enough’s enough. My help was love, not an obligation. Now she can figure it out herself. I’m choosing Sophie.
This row’s left a bitter taste. I thought we were close, but her selfishness showed what “family” really means to her—just her own convenience. Sophie deserves better, and I’ll work twice as hard to give her a happy childhood. As for Emily? She can learn to value people while she’s got them. If she couldn’t spare a week of joy for my daughter, why should I rescue her plans? It hurts, losing that closeness—but I know I did right by Sophie.
