For seven years under her mother-in-law’s roof: Why my sister believes the world owes her everything
My younger sister is called Emily. For as long as I can remember, she’s always played the victim. Nothing ever goes right for her, everything’s a struggle, and everyone’s to blame—except her. She’s never been one to solve her own problems, preferring instead to wait for someone else to drop everything and rush to her rescue. To put it gently, she’s spent her entire life in the mindset of “the world owes me.”
Right after graduating, Emily got married. And I won’t say she was unlucky—quite the opposite. She landed the kind of opportunity many dream of. Her mother-in-law, Margaret, turned out to be a kind-hearted woman with good sense. She had a one-bedroom flat inherited from a distant aunt. Instead of renting it out as she’d planned, she let the newlyweds stay there for free, choosing to remain in her own two-bedroom house on the outskirts of London—all so they could save up for their own place. But generosity often goes unappreciated.
Emily wasn’t exactly driven by ambition. She happily spent her days sprawled on the sofa with box sets, lattes, and social media. Get a job after uni? Why bother when you could just have a baby and go on maternity leave? And so it went—within a year, she was pushing a pram, and a year after that, her husband filed for divorce and vanished. So there she was, alone. And who took her in? Margaret, of course.
Margaret, ever compassionate, let Emily stay in the flat until she got back on her feet. To Margaret, that meant finding a job, saving for a deposit on a mortgage, and slowly gaining independence. But Emily had a different interpretation: a free ride until she was kicked out.
Margaret did what she could—she babysat, bought toys, and helped with groceries. Meanwhile, Emily splurged on holidays abroad, designer clothes, and flaunted new handbags and makeup on Instagram—all while living rent-free. Her ex-husband, mind you, hadn’t sat idle—he’d taken out a mortgage, remarried, and built a stable life. But my sister? She seemed convinced she didn’t have to lift a finger—everyone else owed her.
Seven years passed. Margaret, now well into retirement, gently reminded Emily that she’d always intended to rent the flat for extra income. She politely asked her to consider moving out. And what do you think happened? Emily threw a performance worthy of the West End—screaming, sobbing, wailing that she and her child were being thrown onto the streets. Naturally, she did this in front of the child and her ex-husband.
No one was throwing her out. Our parents live in a spacious cottage in the countryside with a spare room for Emily and her son. But she didn’t want to go. Why? Because at our parents’, you’re expected to help out, clean up after yourself, and rise early—and she’d grown accustomed to total freedom. So she tried to shift the burden onto me.
My husband and I had only just paid the deposit on our mortgage, renovated, and started renting the place out. The rental income covers our monthly payments, and we’re staying in my husband’s flat for now. When Emily found out, she shamelessly asked to “crash with us for six months”—rent-free, of course. She swore she’d sort herself out in half a year.
But I know Emily. Those six months would stretch into eight years. She’d wreck our newly renovated place within weeks. Then she’d accuse me of being “tight-fisted” for refusing to help my own sister. So I shut it down straight away: “No.” And that was the right call. Emily blew up, ranting to the family, painting us as heartless, even turning her son against us.
But I’m done with her manipulation. My husband and I work hard, building our future. We haven’t splurged on beach getaways or designer labels—we saved and scraped. We don’t owe anyone for their laziness and recklessness.
To this day, I can’t fathom how someone could go seven years without once considering the future. Did she think she’d live in Margaret’s flat forever? Or wait for another relative to hand her a home? The worst part? That entitlement. Even her own son became a pawn in her melodrama of “Poor me, I’m being evicted.”
What do you do with a sister like that? Do you keep trying, or do you walk away? I’m tired of being treated like I owe her.
