You’re the Older Brother, So You Must Help Your Little Sister — You Have Two Flats, Give One to Her! Not long ago, we celebrated my sister-in-law’s birthday. Alina has never been warm towards me, and the feeling has been mutual. All our relatives gathered for the occasion: grandparents, nieces, and the birthday girl herself. Every single one congratulated my husband on his sister’s birthday and expressed admiration for his supposed generosity. We accepted the congratulations with my husband, but couldn’t make sense of it. We held an envelope with a £100 gift, which seemed fine, if not exactly generous. The real surprise came when my mother-in-law started congratulating the birthday girl. “Mark, your sister’s birthday is today. She’s still single and without support, so as her older brother, you must look after her and ensure her safety. You’re the owner of two flats now, so you should give one to Alina.” Everyone started clapping, and I nearly fell off my chair in disbelief at the audacity. But that wasn’t the end. “Big brother, you’ll give me the one in the new building, right? When can I move in?” Alina chimed in. My husband and I do have two properties – one I inherited from my grandmother, which we fixed up and currently rent out. The rent goes towards our mortgage on the new flat, where we actually live. My husband has no claim to my inherited flat, which I’ve always planned to leave to our child – certainly not my sister-in-law. “Forget it – the flat we’re renting is mine, and the one you’re dreaming of is our home,” I said. “My dear, you’re mistaken,” my mother-in-law replied, “because you’re my son’s wife, and everything you have is shared property under his management.” “I’ve no objection to you helping your sister, but don’t touch my property,” I added. “Mark, do you have something to say?” “My love, you and I will earn more and buy another flat – let’s gift one to Alina, it is her birthday after all,” Mark insisted. “Are you serious?” I asked. “If it ever comes to that, you can give your sister a share of our flat – but only after we file for divorce!” “How dare you speak to your husband like that? If you want a divorce, you’ll have one!” his mother scoffed. “Son, you should pack and come home – you, my dear, are simply nasty and greedy!” After those words, I left that mad house, unwilling to stay amongst people who think they can dispose of my property as they please.

Author Emily TaylorReading 3 minViews 1

Youre the big brother, so youve got to help your little sister out. You own two flats give her one!

Not long ago, my sister-in-laws birthday was being celebrated. Emily never showed me any warmth, and frankly, I felt the same about her. Our relatives arrived in droves for the occasion, from grandparents and nephews to the birthday girl herself. Each family member made a point of congratulating my husband on his sisters birthday, as well as commenting on his so-called generosity.

My husband and I accepted their congratulations, baffled by it all. We held in our hands a card with £100 tucked inside as our gift. I thought it was perfectly fine for the occasion generous enough, but nothing extreme. The confusion cleared up once my mother-in-law began her birthday speech.

Michael, your sisters having her birthday today. Shes still on her own, with no partner, so as her older brother, you must look after her and make sure shes settled. Now that you have two flats, youll give one to Emily.

Everyone burst into applause. I nearly fell off my chair at the outright cheek of it. And it didnt stop there.

Brother, youll give me the one in the new block! When can I move in? Emily chimed in, wanting clarification.

My husband and I did indeed have two flats. Id inherited one from my grandmother, which we spruced up a bit and now rent out. The money from letting it helps us pay off the mortgage on the new flat where we actually live. My husband has no claim to the inherited flat; Id intended it for our child, not for my sister-in-law.

Lets not get ahead of ourselves the flat we let out is mine, and the one youre dreaming about is where we live, I said.

Darling, youre mistaken, because as my sons wife, all your assets are joint, and your husband should manage it, the mother-in-law countered.

I have no objection to helping as we choose, but it wont be with my property! Michael, do you have anything to add?

Sweetheart, you and I will earn more and buy another flat, and well give this one to Emily. Its her birthday after all, my husband replied.

Are you serious? I was stunned. If you ever feel the urge to give your sister any part of our home, you can do so after we get divorced!

How can you speak to your husband like that? his mother interjected angrily. If you want a divorce, youll have it! Michael, I really think you should pack your bags and come back home to me. And you youre just nasty and greedy! she said, turning to me.

With those words, I walked out of that madhouse, wanting nothing to do with people who believe they have the right to my property.

Everything Happens for the Best Margaret Evans—strong-willed mother of Lucy—moulded her daughter in her own image, and Lucy obeyed her every word. Margaret prided herself on being a successful, formidable woman, and constantly demanded Lucy follow her path without deviation. “Lucy,” Margaret would say sternly, “if you want to achieve what I have, you must go exactly where I lead you—don’t even think about straying. Do you understand?” “Yes, Mum,” Lucy would reply. Lucy loved her mother and always tried her best not to disappoint. Margaret longed for her daughter to become her ‘Miss Perfect’. Yet, the older Lucy grew, the harder that became. Kids will be kids—Lucy made messes, broke things, fell over, but at school she excelled. She knew one C-grade would be a tragedy for her mother. “Lucy, how could you get a ‘C’? What an embarrassment to your father and me—fix it, and quickly!” “Alright, Mum. But it’s just one C, it was an accident…” Lucy would try to protest. “It doesn’t matter, Lucy. You must be better and smarter than anyone.” Lucy would fret, but always made good on her grades, leaving school with top honours—no other way would do. Margaret was proud when Lucy got into university with ease. “Well done, my girl, I’m proud of you,” Margaret finally admitted one day. “But keep going just like this.” Margaret Evans ran a construction business—unusual for a woman, yet her iron will surprised even the toughest male tycoons. She never doubted Lucy would join her after university. Lucy longed to breathe freely, considered studying in another city, but to no avail. “You’ll stay under my supervision,” her mother snapped. “You can study here, at our local university.” Of course, Lucy couldn’t protest. In her third year, she fell properly in love. She’d dated boys before, sneaking about behind her mother’s back, but nothing serious. George, the charming blue-eyed blonde from a parallel class, won her heart. Lucy was a star student even at university, whereas George struggled, especially with coursework. One day he stopped Lucy in the corridor. “Lucy, I’m drowning here. Can you help me with this coursework?” “Of course!” she agreed, thrilled to help. From then on, Lucy did George’s coursework for him, and he paid her with his affection. They went out, watched films, dined in cafés. Margaret grew suspicious. “Lucy, have you fallen for someone?” “How did you know?” Lucy was startled. “It’s written on your forehead… Introduce us. I need to know what ’kind of bird’ he really is.” Lucy brought George home. Her parents were welcoming; even Margaret found little fault. But when he left, Margaret declared, “Lucy, he’s using you and nothing more. He doesn’t sparkle with intellect; there’s nothing to talk about. What on earth do you see in him?” “That’s not true, Mum,” Lucy finally argued. “George is ambitious and interested—he loves history. You just overshadow him with your intellect. Not everyone has to be like you, and he’s still young.” “He’s not your match,” her mother insisted. But Lucy held firm. “No matter what you say about George, Mum, I will love and see him anyway.” Margaret looked sharply at Lucy, waving her off. “You’ll see, Lucy, he’s just a nobody.” Lucy persisted, and, after university, married George, convinced her mother had got him wrong. Life proved that ordinary C-students can get ahead faster than straight-A students. That’s how it happened for George: after graduating, he landed a prestigious job, while Lucy worked under her mother’s wing. George had his own flat—his parents gave it to him before uni—so after the wedding, Lucy was glad to finally be free from her mother’s intrusion. But her mother got her a job in her company anyway. One evening, George came home. “Lucy, I’ve just been made department head, on probation. I’ll work hard to prove myself.” Which he quickly did. George didn’t like Lucy working for her mum. “You’ll never achieve anything if you stay under her thumb,” he told her. “Are you really going to let her control you for life? She’s a tyrant, and you’re too submissive.” Lucy hated hearing this, but knew it was true. Eventually, George stopped criticising her, but grew more distant—a relief, she thought. At least he didn’t nag anymore. The main thing was, they were still together. A year passed, then one day George returned quietly from work and said, “I’ve met someone else and I love her. I’m leaving. She’s real, not like you…” For the first time in her life, Lucy lost it. She shouted, argued, smashed a plate and threw George’s phone against the wall, tore up a shirt or two, then calmed down. Watching, George finally said, “So there’s some fire in you after all. Shame it’s too late,” and left for his new love. “I hate you,” Lucy muttered, packed her bags, found a flat, and left. She said nothing to Margaret; she knew exactly what the response would be. For more than a month Lucy managed to hide her new situation, but her mother sensed something was wrong. “Lucy, what’s going on? You look empty. Is something wrong with you and your husband?” “Why do you think that? I don’t have a problem with my husband—because I don’t have a husband anymore.” “My God, I knew it! He left you, didn’t he? When?” “In April.” “And you said nothing all this time?” Lucy sighed and endured her mother’s tirade. “I warned you, at least you’re not his servant anymore. Thank heavens you don’t have a child together. Now, promise you’ll listen to my advice from now on. Understood?” “Mum, everything happens for the best,” Lucy replied, then added, “And I quit working with you. I’m done,” and left Margaret baffled in her office. Lucy resolved to get far away from her mother, knowing she’d never get a break from the lectures or the control. She wandered, unsure where to go, caught a tram, got off at her stop, and promptly twisted her ankle in a pothole. Groaning from the pain, she sat on the curb. “Just what I needed,” she thought. “Are you alright?” a young man hurried over, having missed the tram. He helped her up—her ankle throbbed. “Does it hurt much?” “Terribly,” she winced. “Here, lean on me—” Before she could argue, he swept her up and carried her to his car. “I’m James,” he introduced himself, “and you?” “Lucy,” she replied. At the hospital they found her ankle was only sprained. After a firm bandage and some instructions, James drove her home. “Give me your number, just in case you need anything,” he offered. Lucy agreed. Next day, James called. “Anything you need from the shop? I suspect your ankle’s still bad.” “Some juice, fruit, maybe bread,” she confessed. Soon after, he appeared with not one but two bulging bags. “Good grief, what’s all this?” “We’re celebrating our meeting, if you don’t mind—and don’t worry, I’ll do all the work. By the way, can we drop the formalities?” Lucy laughed—it was easy and comfortable with James. James did the cooking, reheated a kebab in the microwave, poured juice—no wine, he warned, since he didn’t drink. The evening was a delight. Four months later, Lucy and James wed. A year after that, their daughter Sophie was born. When asked where she found such a wonderful husband, Lucy would laugh, “He found me at the roadside… Don’t believe it? Ask him yourself!” Thank you for reading, subscribing, and all your support. Wishing you happiness in life.