“I’ll sign the apartment over to Lisa, and I’ll move in with you. You’re living alone anyway,” Nina announced, not even bothering to ask for consent.
“Whose male voice is that?” Her tone was strict, like Emma was thirteen, not thirty-two.
“TV, Mom. What did you want?” Emma clearly wanted to end the call.
“We need to talk. Seriously,” her mother emphasized, then hung up immediately. Classic her — always stating decisions, never asking.
“Arthur!” Emma called, tossing her phone onto the couch.
“What happened?” he appeared from the kitchen, holding two cups of coffee.
“My mom. She’s coming tonight.”
“Want me to stay?”
“No need. I want to handle this myself…”
**Ghosts of the Past**
Memories are like snapshots in a photo album — some details fade, but the essence remains. Emma was eleven when her parents divorced. Her sister Lisa was still playing with toys then, while Emma had already learned to read between the lines of grown-up conversations.
“I can’t do this anymore, Helen,” her father had said. “This isn’t a marriage — it’s a shadow of one.”
“And the kids?” her mother’s voice rang like glass.
After the divorce, Dad quietly packed up his things. His favorite armchair, his chipped mug, even his books — all disappeared one by one.
Emma became the bridge between two worlds: her mother’s strict one and her father’s calm. Lisa simply decided Dad was a traitor and Mom a martyr.
**Adulthood**
Emma moved to the capital to study. She worked hard, studied harder — determined to one day own a place of her own. Meanwhile, Lisa took a few courses, became a nail technician, and married almost immediately.
Their father passed away, leaving behind only warm memories and emptiness.
Their mother only called to ask for money or complain:
“Lisa’s pregnant, help her out. Todd doesn’t make much, and they didn’t even give her a contract at the salon…”
Emma would sigh tiredly.
“She knew what she was getting into. That was her choice.”
**Her Own Nest**
Years later, Emma bought the apartment of her dreams. No help. Just sweat and tears.
“Nice place,” her mom said, glancing around. “Lisa could use something like this. She’s stuck in a dorm with a baby… And you’re here alone in all this space. It’s just not fair.”
“Because Lisa waited for someone to owe her something. I worked.”
Then came the surprise visit, years later:
“I’ve decided — I’ll give the apartment to Lisa. And I’ll move in with you,” her mother said with a smile, inspecting every corner.
“No,” Emma replied shortly. “This is my apartment.”
“What do you mean, no? I’ve already made my decision!”
“Then stay with Lisa. This isn’t a hotel.”
“You’re just as cold as your father!”
“Thank you. He loved me. And he never gave me ultimatums.”
The door slammed, leaving behind silence… and relief.
Her phone buzzed with a message:
**“How did it go?”**
Emma smiled:
**“Come over. I’ll teach you how to make tiramisu.”**
