**Journal Entry – October 12th**
Autumn had draped our garden in gold. The leaves swirled endlessly, and the quiet was so peaceful I could’ve stayed lost in it forever. Then the phone rang. Stan’s face twisted as he glanced at the screen.
“Mum… Let’s hear what’s gone wrong now.”
He put it on speaker, and Valerie’s voice cut through the calm, sharp and urgent.
“Stanley, get your things! Come to mine straight away.”
“What’s happened?” he asked, tensing.
“We’re fetching Emily and the kids. It’s over—her husband’s thrown her out.”
I went pale, the broom still in my hand. Emily—Stan’s sister. With three children. Homeless?
This house had been my dream. Spacious, with a cosy conservatory, a garden, new furniture—we’d built it together, pouring not just money but heart into every brick. Stan had thought me mad—selling our flat, moving out of London, starting fresh. But I’d convinced him. And now, standing here, it was exactly as I’d pictured.
At first, it was perfect. Even Valerie, who’d grumbled at first, had marvelled at the housewarming: “Sophie, love, it’s like something out of a storybook!”
Then it began.
Every Friday, like clockwork, Valerie arrived—and with her, Emily, her husband Andrew, and their three kids. They didn’t just visit; they took over. Meals? My job. Cleaning? Mine too. No help, no thanks. When I brought it up with Stan, he shrugged. “Come on, Soph. They’re family. We help.”
Once, I dared ask Emily to wash up. Her response? “Are you serious? I just had my nails done.” I bit my tongue and scrubbed the plates myself.
When Emily turned up alone, I’d been relieved—one less problem. But soon, dread took its place. She drifted through the house like a ghost, sobbing at night, snapping at the kids. Then Valerie explained: Andrew had filed for divorce. Worse—he’d kept the flat, claiming it was his alone.
“But I can’t take her in!” Valerie defended herself. “I’ve got my own life—I’m getting married. She’ll stay with you.”
I froze. *With us?* The kids too? For how long?
Stan avoided my eyes. “We can’t turn her away. She’s family.”
Emily moved in. Before, I’d at least had weekends to breathe. Now, every day was a blur of childcare and cooking. Neither Emily nor the kids lifted a finger—it all fell on me. And Stan? He just sighed. “Stop whinging. It won’t be forever.”
Two months later, I snapped. After another row, I packed a bag and left for my mate’s place.
Valerie called, ice in her voice. “Good. Walk away. You were never good enough for our family. And the house? It’ll stay with Emily. Stanley built it on our land. You’ve no claim.”
Stan realised too late. He came to me himself, swore he’d kicked Emily out, said he’d finally seen where his loyalties lay. He wanted me back.
I returned—but not the same woman. Stronger. And with one rule: *No more outsiders in my home.*
Valerie cut us off. But I didn’t care.
Sometimes, to build your happiness, you have to learn to say “no”—even to those you once called family.
