“I’m not cooking for everyone anymorejust for me and Annie.”
“Why the hell not?” Nathan snapped, his face darkening.
“Because in this family, Ive realised, its every man for himself. So you can manage without me!”
“Mum, wheres my breakfast?” Yasmin barged into the bedroom without knocking. “Im going to be late for school!”
Nina tried to sit up, but her head spun. The thermometer read 38.7. Her throat burned, her chest rattled with every breath.
“Yasmin, Im ill Grab something from the fridge.”
“Theres nothing in there! Just yoghurts for the baby!” Yasmin stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “You only ever think about her!”
From the nursery came a wailAnnie was awake. Nina forced herself up, legs trembling, dark spots swimming in her vision.
“Nina, wheres my shirt?” Nathan called from the bathroom. “The blue striped one?”
“It should be in the wardrobe”
“Its not! Did you even iron it yesterday?”
Nina leaned against the wall. Shed spent all day running a fever, trying to care for the youngest.
“No, I didnt get round to it.”
“For Gods sake! Ive got a meeting!” Nathan slammed the bathroom door in frustration.
Annies cries grew louder. Nina dragged herself to the nursery, lifting her daughter into her arms. The little girl clung to her, hiccuping with sobs.
“Mum!” Yasmin shouted from the kitchen. “Theres literally nothing here! Not even bread!”
“Theres money on the table. Buy something on your way.”
“Im not stopping at the shop! Ive got an exam! And anyway, its your job to feed us!”
Nina didnt answer. She walked silently to the kitchen, Annie still in her arms, pulled frozen burgers from the freezer, and slapped a pan onto the stove.
“And make pasta!” Yasmin ordered, eyes glued to her phone.
While breakfast cooked, Nathan emerged from the bedroom in a crumpled shirt.
“Had to wear this one. I look homeless. Thanks for that.”
Nina said nothing. Speaking hurt, and she had no energy left to argue.
“Its Charlottes birthday today,” Yasmin announced, piling pasta onto her plate. “Im going over after school. Ill be back late.”
“Yasmin, I feel awful. Could you stay home? Help with your sister?”
“Oh, right, like thats happening! Ive waited six months for this party! And I never asked for a sisterthats your problem!”
She snatched up her bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Nathan finished his breakfast, scrolling through his phone.
“Nina, any chance you could pick up the slack today? Ive got work drinks.”
“Im really sick, Nathan.”
“Take something, then. Paracetamol, whatever. Youre not bedridden. Tough it out.”
He pecked her on the templehot and damp with sweatand left.
Nina was alone with three-year-old Annie. The little girl demanded attention, food, play. Nina moved on autopilot, feeling her strength drain away.
By lunch, her fever hit 39. She managed to feed the child, put her down for a nap, then collapsed onto the sofa. Her head pounded. Her heart raced.
Her phone buzzeda text from Yasmin: *Mum, send me money for Charlottes present. NOW!*
Nina didnt reply. She didnt have the strength to lift the phone.
Nathan was the first home that evening. Tipsy, grinning, carrying a shopping bag.
“Got beer and crisps! Match is on!” He flopped onto the sofa and flicked on the telly.
“Nathan, feed Annie, please. I cant get up.”
“That bad?” He finally looked at his wife. “Christ, youre burning up.”
“Been like this all day”
“Well, call an ambulance if its dire. Wheres the kid?”
“In her cot. Shell wake soon.”
“Fine, Ill sort her. When shes up.”
Half an hour later, Annie woke crying for her mum. Nathan reluctantly tore himself from the TV, scooping her up.
“Whats all this, then? Come to Dad!”
But the toddler wailed louder, straining towards Nina. Nathan floundered.
“Nina, she wants you!”
“Give her a biscuit from the cupboard. And juice.”
“Where? I cant find anything!”
She forced herself up. The room tilted. Gripping the wall, she fetched a biscuit and poured juice into a sippy cup. Annie quieted slightly.
Yasmin rolled in after midnight. Nina was still awakeher fever wouldnt let her sleep.
“Why didnt you reply?” Yasmin snapped the second she walked in. “I had to borrow money from Charlottes mum! So embarrassing!”
“Yasmin, Ive had a fever all day”
“So? Couldnt pick up your phone? Two seconds!”
The next morning, Nathan shook Nina awake.
“Nina, get up! Ive got work, and Annies screaming!”
Her fever had broken, but exhaustion clung to her. She dragged herself up, dressed Annie.
“What about breakfast?” Nathan asked.
“Make it yourself. Im taking Annie to nursery.”
“Make it? I dont know how! And Im late!”
“Youll learn.”
Something in her voice silenced him. He muttered under his breath and stalked to the kitchen.
When Nina returned, the house was a messdirty plates, strewn laundry, crumpled sheets. Normally, shed clean immediately. Not today.
She showered, drank tea, and went back to bed.
That evening, the family gathered for dinner. Or rather, around an empty table.
“Mum, whats for dinner?” Yasmin asked.
“No idea. Whatever you cook.”
“Waitwhat?” Yasmin gaped.
“Exactly what I said. Im not cooking for everyone anymore. Just for me and Annie.”
“Whats got into you?” Nathan scowled.
“Im tired of being your maid. Yesterday proved Im just unpaid staff to you.”
“Mum, I said sorry!” Yasmin lied.
“No, you didnt. Neither did your dad. Neither of you even asked how I was.”
“Fine, sorry!” Yasmin huffed. “What, are we just supposed to starve?”
“The fridge is full. Youve got hands. Figure it out.”
The first week was hell. Yasmin threw tantrums. Nathan sulked and slammed doors. Nina held firmcooking only for herself and Annie, washing only their clothes, tidying only the nursery.
“Mum, my jeans are filthy!” Yasmin wailed.
“Washing machines right there. Detergents under the sink.”
“I dont know how!”
“Youll learn. Instructions are on the lid.”
Nathan went to work in wrinkled shirts, ate at cafés. Money evaporated.
“Nina, this is ridiculous! Eating out every day!”
“Cook at home. Cheaper.”
“I dont know how!”
“Try YouTube. Millions of recipes.”
The house descended into chaosdirty dishes, unwashed floors, dust. Nina saw it all but didnt intervene. She kept only the nursery clean.
After two weeks, Yasmin attempted pasta. Forgot salt, overcooked itinedible mush.
“Mum, help!”
“No. Learn.”
“Youre my mum! Youre supposed to!”
“Im obliged to care for minors. Cooking you gourmet meals isnt in the job description. Bread, milk, cerealyou wont starve.”
Nathan tried scrambled eggs. Burnt them. Tried againedible, barely.
“Look, Nina! I made eggs!”
Nina nodded and returned to her book. No praise. No applause.
By the third week, the flat was a tip. Yasmin cried over a mountain of laundry.
“Mum, please! Just this once! Ive got nothing clean for school!”
“You were home all yesterday. Couldve washed them.”
“I was doing homework!”
“I work remotely, cook, clean after Annie, take her out. And I manage.”
“Youre an adult!”
“And you want adult privilegesstaying out late, pocket money? Then act like one.”
By months end, resistance crumbled. Yasmin learned to wash, cook basics, tidy. Nathan mastered not just eggs but pasta and even simple soup.
One evening, Nina returned from the park with Annie to a set table, the smell of food. Nathan and Yasmin stood, sheepish.
“Mum, we made dinner,” Yasmin murmured. “I did salad. Dad roasted chicken.”
“Thank you,” Nina said calmly.
“Mum were sorry,” Yasmin whispered, eyes down. “We didnt realise how hard it is for you.”
