“You’re so independent!” her parents said, then secretly gifted their younger daughter a three-bedroom flat.
Anna was pushing her trolley through the shopping centre when someone called out:
“Annie! Hi!”
She turned and saw Emily, her sisters friend, grinning and reaching for a hug.
“How are you? Listen, I wanted to askwhat should I get Lydia for her housewarming? The flat is gorgeous, three bedrooms in the city centre!”
“What housewarming?”
Annas trolley stopped dead.
“Well, you knowshes moving into Grans old place! Says your parents gave it to her. Lucky girl, your little sister!”
A tightness clenched inside Anna. That flat had been rented out for three yearsshe even recognised the tenants by sight.
And deep down, shed hoped theyd sell it one day, split the money, and she could pay off her mortgage early.
“Has she already moved in?”
“Not yet, but shes planning to next week. Throwing a housewarming then.”
An hour later, Anna stood outside Lydias one-bed flat in a sleepy suburban estate. The buzzer was broken, so she knocked.
“Annie?” Lydia opened the door in paint-splattered overalls, face flushed, a rag in her hand. “No warning?”
“Just ran into Emily. She asked what to get you for your housewarming.”
The rag hit the floor. Lydia snatched it up, wiped her hands, and stepped back inside.
“Wait a sec, I justneed the loo.”
The bathroom door shut, but the walls in these old flats were paper-thin. Anna heard every word:
“Mum? Annette knows About the flat Shes here What do I do?”
Anna scanned the room. Boxes everywhere: “Kitchenware,” “Books,” “Clothes.” A stack of papers on the sofa.
Lydia emerged, tense.
“Look, dont make a scene over a flat. Youre a grown womanyouve got your own place.”
“You got nearly half a million quid. Just like that!”
“So what? They offeredI took it. Would you have refused?”
“Maybe not. But I wouldnt have lied to my sisters face.”
“I didnt lie! I just didnt mention it.”
“Whats the difference?”
Lydia slumped onto the sofa, face in her hands.
“Annie, what do you want? The flat back? Ive already booked the decorator!”
“I dont want anything. I just know where I stand in this family now.”
“Oh, come off it! Youre the strong one, always managing. Im married, Mark lost his jobwe needed it more.”
“Mark lost his job? When?”
“Last year. We told Mum and Dadthey wanted to help.”
Anna nodded slowly. So theyd lied to their parents too.
“Did my mortgage till Im fifty factor into who needed it more?”
“God, Annie, drop it! The flats mine, end of. Stop counting other peoples money.”
Anna turned for the door.
“Thats it? Youll just walk off in a huff?”
“Im not in a huff, Lydia. I just know the real you now.”
At home, Anna rang her mother.
“Mum, we need to talk.”
“Lydia already told me. Why make such a fuss? A gifts a gift.”
“Remember when you said if you ever sold Grans place, youd split the money?”
“I did But things changed. Lydias married, Marks struggling.”
“And my mortgage isnt a struggle?”
“You handle it so well. Were proud of you.”
Half an hour later, her father called.
“Love, dont fret. Its awkward, sure.”
“Awkward, Dad? You looked me in the eye for three years and let me hope.”
“We thought youd understand. Youre so independent.”
Yes. Independent. So she could pay two grand a month and never complain.
Sunday lunch at her parents was sacred. Anna went, as always. Her daughter Sophie played on her tablet, Lydias husband Mark told jokes, her mum bustled with pots.
Everyone pretended nothing had happened.
“Lydia and I are thinking of buying another flat,” Mark said, serving salad. “New build. Deposits sortedwell rent out Grans place.”
Anna froze, fork mid-air.
“Rent it? What about the housewarming?”
“Plans changed,” Lydia said, slicing meat without looking up. “City centres too noisy, no parking. Well get something modern.”
The fork clattered onto the plate.
“So you gave her a flat worth half a millionso she could buy another?”
Her father choked on his tea. Her mother spun from the hob:
“Whats wrong with that? Young people need to grow!”
“Mum, am I old? Ill be paying my mortgage till Im fifty.”
“You chose to take that loan!”
Anna stood.
“Sophie, were leaving.”
“But youve hardly eaten!” her mother protested.
“Were full. Have been for years.”
In the hallway, pulling on her coat, Anna spotted the open bedroom door. A stack of papers on the nightstand. Atop itthe deed of gift.
She glanced at the date: 15 March 2021.
In the car, Sophie asked, “Mum, why did we leave?”
“Because grown-ups sometimes lie. And dont want to admit it.”
At home, Anna scrolled to a photo from her own housewarming. One candle, a cheap bottle of wine, the caption: “Home at last.”
15 March 2021.
The same day her family stood in a solicitors office, handing Lydia half a million.
Now she knew her exact worth to them.
For a week, her parents called non-stopAnna ignored them. Then her mother texted: “Have you lost your mind? Destroying family over money!”
“Mum, Im not destroying anything. Ive just stopped pretending.”
“Pretending to what?”
“That you have two daughters. Not one you love, and one whos convenient.”
A month later, her parents asked to meet. A café, solemn faces.
“Annie, weve talked,” her father began. “Well give you fifty grand towards your mortgage.”
“Where from?”
“Lydia will lend it from the rental income,” her mother said.
Anna stirred her coffee slowly. So even these crumbs came by Lydias grace.
“No thanks.”
“What? You wanted help!”
“I wanted honesty! Not handouts.”
The next day, Anna left the family group chat, removed her parents from favourites. That evening, Sophie asked, “Mum, why dont we see Gran anymore?”
“Because they decided we can manage on our own.”
“Can we?”
“Of course, love. Were strong.”
Six months passed. Anna refinanced her mortgage, took on extra work. Skipped family eventsalways “too busy.”
Once, in the same shopping centre, she bumped into Lydia, her trolley piled with luxury groceries.
“Annie!” Lydia beamed. “How are you? Weve movedseventy square metres, designer renovation!”
“Lovely.”
“The old flats rented outtwo grand a month, pure profit. Why so cold? Mum and Dad are really upset.”
“Upset?”
“Well, yes. They say you abandoned family over a flat. Ashamed of youmoney over blood?”
Anna studied her sisters designer coat, the bag worth half her salary.
“Lydia, do you really think this is about money?”
“What else?”
“That for three years, you all lied to my face. But you wouldnt get that.”
“Fine! Keep sulking with your precious principles!”
That night, Anna stared at her housewarming photo. Back then, shed felt alone. Now she knewshed been alone in that “loving” family all along.
She opened her banking app. £150k left on the mortgage. Six more years, two grand a month.
But every penny was payment for no longer pretending. For knowing her true worth. And that price? Far higher than her family ever guessed.
God help them. As they say, you can’t force affection
What would you have done?
