“This is my apartment,” asserted Sarah, despite her family objecting to her decision to ask her pregnant sister to move out.
“You know you gave me this flat,” she reminded them.
“Can’t you see? She’s family! How could you be so hard on your own niece? She has nowhere to go!” Her mother’s voice on the phone was both pleading and reproachful, as always. Even when asking for something, she managed to pressurize.
“Mum, I’m not against helping, but…” Sarah hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Megan’s been living here for eight months. Eight! Do you remember Aunt Vera saying it was only for a couple of weeks until she found a job?”
“So what? It’s a hard time to find employment.”
“She’s not even looking!” Sarah’s irritation was growing. “She spent all yesterday in the bathroom, doing those hair masks. Then she watched soap operas. Then…”
“But she’s pregnant, darling.”
“She found out a month ago! What stopped her before that?”
A heavy silence filled the line. Sarah could hear her mum heaving a deep sigh, the type that hinted, “What a heartless daughter you’ve turned out to be.”
“Mum, it’s my apartment. You and Dad bought Uncle Edward’s share specifically for me, remember?”
“Technically,” her mum’s voice turned stern, “the flat belongs to us. We just let you live there.”
Sarah closed her eyes. There it was. Again.
“I thought it was a graduation gift.”
“Of course, it was a gift! But you know, within a family, you need to…”
“Need to what?” interrupted Sarah. “Endure when Megan eats my food, uses my stuff, and brings her boyfriend here when I’m out? By the way, the boyfriend who’s now the father of her child.”
“Sarah!” her mum’s voice had a steely edge. “Aunt Vera did so much for us! When your dad was ill, who helped us? Who looked after you while I worked two jobs?”
Sarah sighed. She’d heard this tune a hundred times before. The debt owed to Aunt Vera seemed never-ending.
“Mum, I am grateful to Aunt Vera, truly. But that doesn’t mean I have to…”
“Aunt Vera called yesterday,” her mum interrupted again. “She said you’ve been so critical of Megan. Picking on every little thing.”
Sarah snorted.
“Little things? She took my new sweater without asking and spilled juice on it! Then said, ‘Oh, you won’t mind; we’re family.’ And didn’t even apologize!”
“Oh Sarah, it’s just a sweater…”
“It’s not about the sweater!” Sarah felt a lump rising in her throat. “It’s about respect. Personal boundaries. Coming home and feeling like a guest in my own place.”
Silence fell again. Then her mother spoke, softly but firmly:
“Your grandmother would be heartbroken to hear you talk like this. For her, family was…”
“Don’t,” cut in Sarah. “Don’t bring Grandma into it every time you want to persuade me.”
“But it’s true! This apartment is part of her legacy. She wanted…”
“She wanted what? For me to live with Megan forever? To put up with her whims? To…”
Her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Sarah glanced at the screen: Aunt Vera. Of course.
“Mum, Aunt’s calling. Probably wants to tell me personally how awful a sister I am.”
“Pick it up, Sarah. Talk to her like an adult.”
“Alright,” Sarah sighed. “I’ll call you back.”
Mentally bracing herself for more criticism, she switched to Aunt Vera’s call.
“Hello, Aunt Vera.”
“Sarah dear!” Her aunt’s voice sounded overly cheerful. “How are you, sweetie?”
“Sweetie.” Sarah frowned. Aunt Vera only used that term when she wanted something.
“Fine,” she replied tersely.
“Megan mentioned some… misunderstandings?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. Misunderstandings. Right.
“Aunt Vera, when you and Mum suggested Megan stay with me, it was supposed to be for a couple of weeks. A month, tops.”
“Oh, why are you being an accountant, keeping track of timelines!” her aunt laughed, but the laughter was edged with irritation. “Family doesn’t do that.”
“And what does family do?” Sarah’s anger was simmering again. “Arrive unannounced? Take things without permission? Bring friends over when I’m not home?”
“Sarah, darling, Megan is just an open-hearted person, she’s used to…”
“You know what else she’s used to? Having others make decisions for her. Mum and Dad bought out the flat’s share so I could live here. It was a gift to me.”
“Not exactly,” her aunt’s tone cooled. “It’s your grandmother’s flat. A shared inheritance. We just agreed…”
“Agreed that you’d sell your share to my parents,” stated Sarah firmly. “And they paid for it. Full market price.”
“Money, money!” her aunt’s voice turned hysterical. “It’s always about money! Have you thought about Megan’s condition? Where will she go? The street?”
“She has a boyfriend. The child’s father, by the way.”
“He’s irresponsible, with no home himself! He left as soon as he heard about the pregnancy.”
“How interesting,” thought Sarah, but said out loud: “Aunt Vera, you have a three-bedroom house. You and Uncle Bob have plenty of space. Why can’t Megan live with you?”
Pause. Sarah could almost feel her aunt scrambling for words.
“We have… inconveniences. Uncle Bob works from home; he needs quiet. And anyway, you and Megan were always so close. Like sisters. It’ll be a wonderful experience for you when the baby arrives.”
“Like sisters.” Sarah smiled bitterly. Megan was always the one getting away with everything. Sweet, spontaneous Megan who “never thought about the consequences.” While Sarah was “responsible,” “reasonable,” the “mature one.” The one meant to yield, understand, forgive.
“Aunt Vera, I can’t do this any longer. I’ll talk to Megan today. She needs to find somewhere else to live.”
“What?!” her aunt’s voice pitched sharply. “You can’t! She’s pregnant! This is stressing her! Do you want her to lose the baby?!”
Sarah barely held back her anger. There it was. The ultimate weapon. If appealing to conscience through “family values” didn’t work, they’d accuse her of potential harm to the baby.
“I’m not throwing her out on the street right now. I’m giving her time to find…”
“I’m calling your mum!” her aunt cut in. “This is just… outrageous! After all we did for you.”
The call ended abruptly. Sarah slowly placed her phone on the table, her hands trembling.
The front door slammed. Heels clicked down the hallway.
“Sarah!” Megan’s voice was sickly sweet. “You home? Guess what? I ran into Katie—you remember her from school? She got married! To some rich IT guy. Her ring is blinding!”
Megan breezed into the kitchen. Sun-kissed, a fresh manicure, trendy jeans. No signs of a struggling pregnant woman.
“Listen, I was thinking…” Megan plopped down opposite Sarah. “Maybe we should rearrange the living room? I reckon the sofa would look better by the window. And when the baby comes, we’ll need a little nursery corner…”
Sarah looked at her, feeling something inside finally snap. The last thread of patience.
“Megan, we need to talk.”
“Oh, not now, please?” Megan waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve got a splitting headache. These pregnancy hormones are just awful! I’d rather lie down.”
She stood to leave the kitchen.
“Megan,” Sarah raised her voice. “You need to move out.”
Megan froze in the doorway, then turned slowly.
“What?”
“You need to move out,” Sarah repeated, an odd calm settling over her. “I’m giving you a month to find somewhere to live.”
Megan stared at her, as if Sarah had suddenly started speaking a foreign language.
“You’re joking, right?” she finally managed. “This is some kind of prank?”
“No. I’m completely serious.”
Megan’s face twisted with anger.
“You… you can’t! This is Grandma’s flat! I have as much right to live here as you do!”
“No, Megan. My parents bought the share from your mum. Legally it’s their property.”
“I don’t care about legally!” Megan’s voice rose. “We’re family! Don’t you understand? I’m pregnant! I have nowhere to go!”
“You have parents. A child’s father. Friends, at least.”
“I’m calling Mum!” Megan pulled out her phone. “She’ll sort you out!”
“Don’t bother,” Sarah shook her head. “She’s already called. So has Mum.”
“And?”
“And nothing. My decision stands.”
Megan glared at her with blatant hatred.
“Fine! Throw your pregnant relative out on the street? Mum and Aunt Linda will sort you out. You’ll regret this!”
She turned and stormed out of the kitchen. Shortly after, the front door crashed shut.
Sarah sat there, staring out of the window. Oddly enough, instead of guilt, she felt only relief. And exhaustion. Endless exhaustion from this game of “family values,” where values were always one-sided.
Her phone buzzed again. A message from her mum: “Aunt Vera is hysterical. What have you done?”
Sarah didn’t reply. Instead, she opened her browser and searched: “London flat rentals.”
Three months went by. Sarah sat in a cafe on Oxford Street, watching the drizzle coat the pavement. Opposite her was Mike, her boyfriend, whom she’d met in London where he’d moved six months earlier.
“Any regrets?” he asked, stirring his coffee.
Sarah shook her head.
“No. Only that I didn’t do it sooner.”
Her phone vibrated. Her dad was calling.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, love,” her father’s voice was unusually formal. “I have news.”
“What kind?”
“We sold the flat.”
Sarah froze.
“Grandma’s? But what about…”
“Megan moved back with her parents,” her dad chuckled. “After you left, she tried to settle there, but… We decided enough was enough. We sold it. The money’s coming to you.”
“What?” Sarah could hardly believe her ears. “To me?”
“To you,” her father’s voice smiled. “It was a gift for you, remember? Your graduation. We… got muddled with the pressure. Forgive us.”
Sarah felt tears welling up.
“Dad, I… I don’t know what to say…”
“You don’t need to say anything. Just be happy. And… we’re proud of you. For standing up for yourself. Even when we didn’t back you.”
After the call, Sarah sat silent, gazing out of the window.
“What’s up?” Mike asked, covering her hand with his.
“It feels like I finally grew up,” Sarah whispered. “For real.”
Outside, the rain washed away traces of the past, opening a clean slate for a new life. A life where she chose whom to let into her home and her heart.
