“Youre so independent!” her parents said, then secretly gifted a three-bedroom flat to her younger sister.
Anna was pushing her trolley through the shopping centre when someone called out:
“Annie! Hi!”
She turned to see Marla, her sisters best friend, beaming and stretching out for a hug.
“Howve you been? Listen, quick questionwhat should I get Lydia for her housewarming? The flats absolutely gorgeous, three beds right in the city centre!”
“What housewarming?”
The trolley stopped on its own.
“Oh, you know, the one at Grans old place! Shes moving in next week. Says your parents gave it to her. Lucky girl, your sister!”
Anna felt everything inside her tighten. That flat had been rented out for three yearsshe even recognised the tenants by face.
And, secretly, shed hoped theyd sell it one day, split the money, and shed finally pay off her mortgage early.
“So shes already moved in?”
“Not yet, but shes throwing a party next week.”
An hour later, Anna stood outside Lydias one-bed flat in a dull suburb. The buzzer wasnt working, so she knocked.
“Annie?” Lydia opened the door in paint-splattered overalls, face flushed, a rag in her hand. “You didnt call?”
“Ran into Marla. She asked what to get you for your housewarming.”
The rag hit the floor. Lydia scooped it up, wiped her hands, and stepped back inside.
“Hang on, justneed to pop to the loo.”
The bathroom door clicked shut, but the walls in these old flats were paper-thin. Anna heard every word:
“Mum? Annie knows About the flat Shes here What do I do?”
Anna scanned the room. Boxes everywhere”Kitchen,” “Books,” “Clothes.” A stack of paperwork on the sofa.
Lydia emerged, her smile strained.
“Look, dont make a fuss. Youre a grown-upyouve got your own place.”
“Lyd, you just got handed nearly half a million quid. Just like that!”
“So what? It was a giftI took it. Would you have said no?”
“I might not have. But I wouldnt have lied to my sisters face.”
“I didnt lie! I just didnt mention it.”
“And thats better?”
Lydia flopped onto the sofa, hands over her face.
“Annie, what do you want? The flat back? Ive already booked the builders, hired a designer!”
“I dont want anything. I just finally see where I stand in this family.”
“Oh, come off it! Youre the strong one, the independent one. Ive got a husbandMax lost his job, we needed it more!”
“Max lost his job? When?”
“Last year. We told Mum and Dad, and they helped out.”
Anna nodded slowly. So theyd even lied to their parents about the reason.
“Did my mortgage till Im fifty factor into this grand decision of 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? Youre just going to walk off in a huff?”
“Not in a huff, Lyd. Ill just know the real you now.”
At home, Anna called her mother.
“Mum, we need to talk.”
“Lydias already told me everything. Why are you making such a drama? A gifts a gift.”
“You promisedwhen Grans flat sold, youd split the money.”
“I did say that But things changed. Lydias married, Max has work troubles.”
“And my mortgage isnt trouble?”
“You manage just fine. You always do.”
Half an hour later, her dad rang.
“Love, dont fret. Its awkward, sure.”
“Awkward, Dad? You looked me in the eye for three years and let me hope.”
“Well we thought youd understand. Youre so independent.”
Right. Independent. So she could fork over £1,600 a month and not complain.
Sunday lunch at her parents was sacred. Anna went, as always. Her daughter, Sophie, played on her tablet; Lydias husband, Max, told jokes; her mum buzzed around the pots.
Everyone pretended nothing had happened.
“Lyd and I are thinking of buying another flat,” Max said, serving salad. “New build. Weve got the depositwell rent Grans out.”
Anna froze, fork mid-air.
“Rent it? What about the housewarming?”
“Plans changed,” Lydia said, eyes on her plate. “City centres too noisy, no parking. Well get something nicer.”
The fork clattered onto the plate.
“So you gave her a £500k flat so she could buy another one?”
Her dad choked on his squash. Her mum spun from the stove:
“Whats wrong with that? Young people should better themselves!”
“Mum, am I ancient? Ive got a mortgage till Im fifty!”
“You chose to take that loan!”
Anna stood.
“Sophie, were leaving.”
“You havent finished!” her mum protested.
“We finished ages ago.”
In the hallway, Anna spotted the open bedroom door. A stack of papers on the nightstand. On topa deed of gift.
She checked the date: 15th March 2021.
In the car, Sophie asked:
“Mum, why did we leave?”
“Because grown-ups sometimes lie. And they hate admitting it.”
At home, Anna found a photo from her own housewarming. One candle, a £5 bottle of wine, the caption: “Home at last!”
15th 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 a text from her mum: “Have you lost your mind? Youre tearing the family apart over money!”
“Mum, Im not tearing anything. Ive just stopped pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
“That you have two daughters. Not one you love, and one whos just convenient.”
A month later, her parents asked to meet. A café, solemn faces.
“Annie, weve talked,” her dad began. “Well give you £30k towards your mortgage.”
“Where from?”
“Lydias lending it from the rent,” her mum said.
Anna stirred her coffee. So even this scrap was Lydias charity.
“No thanks.”
“What? You wanted help!”
“I wanted honesty. Not handouts.”
The next day, Anna left the family group chat and blocked their numbers. That evening, Sophie asked:
“Mum, why dont we see Grandma anymore?”
“Because they decided we can manage on our own.”
“Can we?”
“Course we can, love. Were strong.”
Six months passed. Anna refinanced her mortgage, picked up extra work. Skipped family events”too busy.”
Then, in the same shopping centre, she bumped into Lydia, her trolley piled with posh groceries.
“Annie!” Lydia grinned. “How are you? Weve movedthe new place is stunning! Seventy square metres, designer everything.”
“Lovely.”
“The old ones renting for £2k a month, clear profit. Why so cold? Mum and Dad are heartbroken.”
“Heartbroken?”
“Well, yes. They say you abandoned the family over a flat. As if money matters more than blood!”
Anna studied her sisterdesigner coat, handbag worth half her salary.
“Lyd, do you really think its about the money?”
“What else?”
“That for three years, you all lied to my face. But youd never get that.”
“Fine! Stay bitter with your precious principles!”
That night, Anna stared at her housewarming photo. Back then, she thought she was alone.
Now she knewshed been alone in that “loving” family all along. The convenient one. Now? Just free.
She opened her banking app. £150k left on the mortgage. Six more years at £1,600 a month.
But every penny was the price of truth. Of knowing her real worthfar more than her family ever did.
Let them reckon with that. As they say, you cant force fondness.
