Half my childhood slipped by alongside my identical twin sister, drifting between foster homes until our aunt, Mums younger sister, turned eighteen and swept us into her life. Shealong with the man she later marriedbecame the real parents we never quite had. My love for them runs deep, tangled with a gratitude too complicated for words.
On our eighteenth birthday, they took us to a three-bedroom flat in the heart of Manchester, one that used to belong to our parents. All these years, it had been let out, but now they proposed we sell it, split the money, and each get a little place of our own. We liked the idea. The flat fetched a decent sum. I landed enough pounds to put a deposit down on a sunny two-bed, with a modest mortgage I managed to pay off within a year. After that, I set about repainting the walls and ordering furniture, piecing together something of my own at last.
Mum and Dad (as we had come to call them) were proud Id built myself a steady life. Still, they worried for my sister, who lived as if tomorrow might never arrive. She scattered her inheritance on pricey gadgets, riverside restaurants, and whirlwind trips abroad, not thinking of rainy days.
Finally, Aunt lost her patience. She threatened to kick my sister out unless she used what was left to buy a flat. But by then, the pounds had dwindled, and she couldnt afford a place of her own. So she began renting, resigned, her excitement spent.
It was around then that she met her boyfriend, and soon they moved in together, pinching their pennies, hoping they could make things work. I was relieved shed steadied herself. As for me, I got promoted at work, helped Mum and Dad out where I could, took my first real holiday, and met someone lovely who made even the gloomiest Manchester skies seem bright.
Soon after he and I started seeing each other, we all gathered at mine for dinner. Thats when my sister broke her newsshe was pregnant, and delight flickered in her eyes. Then her tone shifted; she launched into a winding tale about how impossible it was to rent these days, how landlords want more than you earn, and how hard it would be to raise a baby
I couldnt make sense of her drift until she finally turned to me and said, Give me your flat. Im about to have a baby, youre just living here by yourself. Its nothing for you to stay with Aunt for a whileshes got a spare room.
I told her no. She burst into tears, grabbed her partner, and left.
Later, she rang. Again and again, asking if Id changed my mind. But I stayed firm. Every corner of that flat was paid for through my sweat and late nights; Id earned every tiny teaspoon and lamp. I wasnt about to hand it over just because shed left her tomorrows for someone else to worry about. Her choices were her own.
