“I’m sorry, Zoe, but she’ll have to stay with you now…”
Zoe and Stan had been busy in the garden all morning. Leaves fluttered endlessly from the trees, carpeting the ground in gold, and the quiet was so peaceful that they barely wanted to think at all. But then, the silence was shattered by a phone call. Stan glanced at the screen, frowned, and muttered,
“Mum… Let’s see what’s happened this time.”
He put it on speaker, and Valerie Parker’s voice came through sharp and urgent:
“Stanley, get ready! You need to come over right away.”
“What’s wrong?” Stan tensed.
“We’re fetching Lucy and the kids. It’s over—her husband kicked them out.”
Zoe, still holding the rake, went pale. Lucy was Stan’s sister. With children. Now homeless?
The house Zoe and Stan lived in had been her dream—spacious, with a cosy porch, a garden, and brand-new furniture. They’d built it together, pouring in not just money but heart and soul. Stan had thought the idea mad—selling their flat, moving out of the city, starting fresh—but Zoe had convinced him. And now, it was exactly as she’d imagined.
At first, everything was perfect. Even her mother-in-law, who’d initially grumbled, had marvelled at the housewarming: “Zoe, love, you’ve outdone yourself—it’s like something from a storybook!”
Then things changed.
Like clockwork every Friday, Valerie would arrive, bringing Lucy, her husband Aaron, and their three kids. They never just visited—they took over. Meals, cleaning, everything fell on Zoe. No help, no thanks. When she tried to talk to Stan, he just waved it off: “Come on, they’re family. We’ve got to help.”
Once, she dared ask Lucy to wash the dishes. The response? “Are you joking? I’ve just had my nails done.” Zoe clenched her jaw and did it herself.
When Lucy showed up alone, husband gone, Zoe almost sighed in relief—one less problem. But soon, worry replaced relief. Lucy ghosted through the house, crying at night, snapping at the kids. Then Valerie explained—Aaron had filed for divorce. Worse, he’d thrown them out, claiming the flat was his alone.
“I can’t take her in!” Valerie insisted. “I’ve got my own life. I’m remarrying. She’ll stay with you.”
Zoe froze. With them? With the kids? For how long?
Stan lowered his gaze. “We can’t turn her away. She’s family.”
So Lucy moved in. And if Zoe had once caught her breath on weekends, now, every day was a blur of childcare and cooking. No help from Lucy, no thanks—just endless work. And Stan? He only snapped, “Stop complaining. It’s just for a while.”
Two months later, Zoe had had enough. After yet another row, she packed her things and left for a friend’s place.
Valerie called, icy and firm: “Good riddance. You were never good enough for our name. And the house? It stays with Lucy. Stan built it on our land. You own nothing here.”
Stan realised too late. He showed up at Zoe’s, begging—saying he’d sent Lucy and the kids away, that he saw now where his true family was. He wanted her back.
Zoe returned. But different now. Stronger. With one rule: never again would outsiders invade her home.
Valerie cut them off. But Zoe didn’t regret it.
Sometimes, to build your own happiness, you must learn to say no—even to those you once called family.
