My sister let me down when I needed her most—now we don’t speak anymore.
“Hello, Sophie!” Britney chirped into the phone. “We thought we’d pop round to yours this weekend. That alright?”
“Hello.” The reply was icy. “No, it’s not.”
“What do you mean?” Britney faltered.
“I mean no,” Victoria said flatly.
“Are you cross about something? I don’t understand…”
“You’re really asking? After what you did, I don’t want anything to do with you!” Victoria snapped.
“What did I do? What’re you on about?”
The Thompson sisters grew up in a village in Yorkshire. The eldest, Victoria, stayed after school, trained as an accountant at the local college, and married a businessman, William. They built a house, had a son, James, and ran the family firm together.
The younger, Sophie, dreamed of city life. She moved to Manchester, got a job at a supermarket, and married a factory worker, Edward. They rented a cramped two-bed flat. Two years after the wedding, their daughter Lily was born.
Despite the distance, the sisters kept in touch. When Lily turned one, Sophie often visited Victoria—fresh air was good for the baby, and an extra pair of hands never hurt. Sometimes she stayed weekends, even a whole month.
Victoria always welcomed them. There was plenty of space, and Lily was a quiet, well-behaved girl. Over time, Sophie began leaving Lily with her sister—first for a night, then a week, even a month in summer. “Edward and I need a break,” she’d say. Victoria never refused. She worked from home and made do, though it wasn’t easy.
But Sophie never returned the favour. Their tiny flat couldn’t fit Victoria’s family, so when they visited Manchester, they booked a hotel. Sophie rarely made time for them—either at the salon or “too busy.” Sometimes they’d stop by for an hour, nothing more.
Victoria tried not to dwell on it. What mattered was the kids got along, and Sophie, flawed as she was, was still family.
James grew up and planned to go to university. His parents had saved for his tuition. But the week he had to submit his applications, Victoria fell seriously ill—high fever, too weak to move. William promised to drive James but couldn’t stay—work called.
So Victoria rang Sophie.
“Sophie, love,” she whispered hoarsely. “Could you help James tomorrow? Meet him, take him to campus, make sure everything’s sorted? And let him stay the night? William’ll fetch him in the morning…”
A long pause.
“Sorry, can’t do it,” Sophie said breezily.
“Why not?” Victoria couldn’t believe her ears.
“Got a salon appointment, then shopping with Lily—she’s off to camp soon, needs new things.”
“Sophie, I’ve never asked you for anything. Just one day—”
“Honestly, can’t,” Sophie cut in.
“At least let him sleep on your floor!”
“Vicky, he’s a grown lad. Where’d I put him? Lily’s room? Bit awkward, both being teenagers. And our kitchen’s tiny—you know that.”
Victoria’s throat tightened. She’d never once turned Sophie away—always opened her home, fed them, helped. And this was the thanks she got?
“Right. Understood,” she said quietly.
In the end, William’s distant cousin—a man they barely spoke to—stepped up. He gladly took James, helped with paperwork, even showed him round the city.
James got in. His parents rented him a flat. He grew into a steady, responsible man. But Victoria never forgot: when she needed her sister most, Sophie refused.
A month later, the phone rang.
“Hiya! Me and Lily fancy coming down for a week—I’ve got leave, and she’s on break!”
“No,” Victoria said calmly.
“What d’you mean, no?”
“I mean no. You won’t be staying here again. Want fresh air? Rent somewhere. Don’t expect my help.”
“Is this about James?”
“Yes. The one time I asked, you couldn’t be bothered. Years you spent here, but when I needed you, it was salons and shopping.”
“Look, I’m sorry—”
“Bit late for that,” Victoria cut in.
They never spoke again. Lily and James still kept in touch—Victoria didn’t stop them. The girl wasn’t to blame. But she never slept under her aunt’s roof again.
Even years later, Sophie didn’t think she’d done wrong. “She’s got a big house—it’s not like it was hard for her,” she’d say. But she never set foot in that house again.
Sometimes it’s better to have no sister than one who’s never there when you need her.
