My husband’s sister decided it was our duty—and only ours—to spoil her kids.
I married Andrew nearly eight years ago. He’s kind, thoughtful, and has a heart of gold. Just one problem—his sister, Emily. A woman with endless imagination and an incredible knack for turning every casual remark into a subtle request… for an expensive gift.
She never said things outright. Her words always sounded like harmless observations:
*”The kids have been *dying* to see that new animated film, but cinema tickets are so pricey these days.”* And before you knew it, my Andrew would be booking tickets, taking his nephews to the cinema, and throwing in popcorn combos for good measure.
*”Gorgeous weather today,”* she’d muse. *”Shame to stay indoors. Perfect for a day at the theme park!”* Guess who ended up riding roller coasters with her kids? Us. And footing the bill, obviously.
I don’t do hints. And I won’t. If you want something—just ask. Don’t dance around it pretending you never wanted anything.
But Andrew? He always bit. He adored his nephews, absolutely doted on them. But the way he spoiled them? Over the top. Bikes, gadgets, day trips—all became the norm. One flutter of Emily’s eyelashes, and off he’d dash.
Recently, it was little Oliver’s birthday—Emily’s son. We’d already splashed out on a top-notch bike, costing us a pretty penny. More than enough, I thought. But to Emily, that was practically *peanuts*. Suddenly, the child *needed* to see Europe—with her, of course. Couldn’t possibly go alone!
Her version?
*”Ollie’s obsessed with Paris—his eyes just *light up* at the mention of it…”*
Andrew came home with a birthday cake and monogrammed cushions instead of plane tickets. I was at work that day, so he went alone. Let’s just say—his sister was *not* impressed.
Emily didn’t give up. Her demands grew with every passing year. Andrew didn’t seem to mind. We didn’t have kids of our own, so he poured everything into his nephews. Maybe because he had all that fatherly energy with nowhere else to put it.
Then—the news we’d waited for. I was pregnant. Andrew cried with joy, kissed my belly, couldn’t believe it. He’d dreamed of this for years. And then… Emily showed up.
Another *request*. This time—a family trip to Prague for the holidays. With the kids, naturally. For the first time, Andrew said no. Told her all his resources were going towards *his* family now. His sister *exploded*.
Next day, my phone rang. Screaming. Accusations.
*”How *dare* you?! This is all *your* doing—stealing the only man who ever cared for my boys!”*
I hung up.
Then—the real drama. His nephews ambushed him outside his office with handmade cards.
*”Uncle, please don’t abandon us…”*
*”Why have your own kids when you’ve already got us?”*
Someone *definitely* helped write those. And that someone was *painfully* obvious.
Andrew came home, sat on the sofa, stared at those cards… and something in him *snapped*.
*”I’ve been such an idiot,”* he muttered. *”Years of this—‘broken washing machine’, ‘no money for school trips’, ‘dad’s gone—Uncle, *help*.’ She’s been using those kids to manipulate me. And I *let* her.”*
Out came the notebook. He listed *everything*—bikes, phones, summer camps, trips, tech, jackets, theatre tickets. The total? A small fortune.
And then—Emily’s grand finale.
She marched into our house like she owned the place.
*”Since you’re having your own baby soon… maybe one last good deed? Give us your car. Not brand-new—I’m not greedy. Just something to ferry the kids around.”*
Andrew handed her the notebook.
*”This is what you owe me. Six months to pay it back. After that—court.”*
She stormed out, slamming the door so hard the coat rack nearly toppled.
Then—the *flood*. Her friends bombarded my socials. *”You’ve ruined the sacred bond between uncle and nephews!”* *”Now those poor boys are *abandoned*, their mother’s *heartbroken*!”*
But I didn’t flinch.
Emily owns *two* flats—one from her ex, the other because Andrew gave up his inheritance for her. She gets child support, lives comfortably. She’s just used to getting everything handed to her. Now? *Not anymore.*
We’re having a baby. And for the first time, my husband has a *real* family—no guilt trips, no theatrics. And honestly? Feels like this is just the beginning.
