A year ago, my older brother, Adam, had his whole world fall apart. His wife, Emily, died just days after giving birth to their third child. A hospital infection, a sudden complication, and within a week, she was gone. She was only 34 years old.
The newborn survived, and so did the other two kids. But so what? Adam was left alone with three children, completely lost, with no idea how to handle it. And, as always, the entire burden fell on our mother.
Do I feel sorry for him? Of course, I do. But does that mean I have to sacrifice my own life for him?
I have my own apartment – not big, but modern, comfortable, and completely mine. I live alone. Sometimes, my girlfriend, Sarah, stays over. We have our own future to build.
And everything would be fine if my mother hadn’t decided that my life no longer matters.
At first, she called me every day, asking me to help Adam – clean the house, cook, spend time with the kids. Then she started demanding that I go over every weekend because “Adam can’t handle everything alone.”
And now… now she has decided that I must take in his eldest son and raise him as my own.
“I can’t take care of three kids by myself!” – she declared. – “Ethan is already in middle school, he needs help with homework, and Adam doesn’t have time for that!”
“Well, maybe he should make time,” I replied coldly. “They’re his kids, not mine. Why should I throw away my life because he can’t handle his own responsibilities?”
My mother glared at me, furious.
“How can you be so heartless?! Your brother lost his wife! He’s alone!”
“That’s his life, Mom!” – I shot back. “He chose to have three kids. I didn’t make that decision for him!”
And that’s when all hell broke loose.
She started calling me selfish, saying I had it too easy in life, that I didn’t know what responsibility meant.
And then, she pulled out her ultimate weapon – my apartment.
“You should be ashamed! You’re living in a place that we bought for you, and now you refuse to help your own family?!”
I clenched my jaw.
Yes, my parents bought me this apartment when I finished university. But Adam also got his – a spacious two-bedroom place in the city center when he married Emily. Back then, no one had a problem with it.
But now, suddenly, I’m expected to repay this “debt” for the rest of my life?
I paid for all the renovations myself. Adam helped, yes, but nobody forced him – he did it because he wanted to. And now, it turns out it was just a loan I’m supposed to pay back?
“Let me make this clear, Mom,” I said, my voice steady. “I am not going to be a babysitter for Adam’s children. I have my own life. If someone is going to live with me, it will be my girlfriend – not a child who is not my responsibility.”
“You sold out your family for a woman! You abandoned us for nothing!” – she screamed.
To her, Sarah was a meaningless distraction, while Adam was the poor, suffering victim who deserved everyone’s help.
How did it all end? Simple. My family cut me off.
Adam moved to another city for work. He left his kids with our mother and just sends money every month so he doesn’t have to deal with them himself.
And me? I’m living my life, without guilt.
A few days ago, I called my mother – I needed to borrow some money until payday. She didn’t even let me finish my sentence.
“I have no money for you,” she said coldly and hung up.
But I know for a fact that Adam sends her plenty of money every month. So why is she lying to me?
You know what? If they decided that I’m no longer part of this family, then so be it.
