“You’re so independent!” her parents said, then secretly gifted a three-bedroom flat to her younger sister.
Hannah was pushing her trolley through the shopping centre when someone called out:
“Annie! Hey!”
She turned and saw Marissa, her sisters best friend, grinning widely and reaching for a hug.
“How’ve you been? Listen, I wanted to askwhat should we get Lydia for her housewarming? The flats absolutely gorgeous, three bedrooms right in the city centre!”
“What housewarming?”
The trolley stopped on its own.
“What do you mean? She’s moving into Grans old place! Says your parents gave it to her. Lucky girl, your little sister!”
Hannah felt her chest tighten. That flat had been rented out for three yearsshe even recognised the tenants by sight.
Deep down, shed hoped theyd eventually sell it, 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 and everything.”
An hour later, Hannah stood outside Lydias tiny one-bed in the suburbs. The buzzer was broken, so she knocked.
“Annie?” Lydia opened the door in overalls, her face damp with sweat, a rag in her hand. “Why didnt you call?”
“Ran into Marissa. She asked what to get you for your housewarming.”
The rag dropped. Lydia snatched it up, wiped her hands, and stepped back inside.
“Justgive me a second, I need to pop to the loo.”
The bathroom door shut, but the thin walls of the council flat carried every word. Hannah heard clearly:
“Mum? Annie knows about the flat Shes here What do I do?”
Hannah scanned the room. Boxes everywhere: “Kitchen,” “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.”
“Lyd, you just got nearly half a million quid. Just like that!”
“So what? It was a giftI took it. Would you have said no?”
“Maybe not. But I wouldnt have lied to my sisters face.”
“I didnt lie! I just didnt mention it.”
“Whats the difference?”
Lydia flopped onto the sofa, covering her face. “Annie, what do you want? The flat back? Ive already booked renovations, 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 husbandMark lost his job, we needed it more.”
“Mark lost his job? When?”
“Last year. We told Mum and Dad, and they decided to help.”
Hannah nodded slowly. So even that had been a lie to their parents.
“And did my mortgage running till Im fifty factor into who needed it more?”
“God, Annie, drop it! The flats mine, end of. Stop counting other peoples money.”
Hannah turned for the door.
“Thats it? Youll just walk out?”
“Im not walking out, Lyd. Im just seeing you for who you really are.”
At home, Hannah rang her mother.
“Mum, we need to talk.”
“Lydias already told me. Why are you making such a fuss? It was a gift, simple as that.”
“Remember when you said youd split the money if you ever sold Grans flat?”
“I did but things changed. Lydias married, Marks got work troubles.”
“And my mortgage isnt a trouble?”
“You manage just fine. Always have.”
Half an hour later, her dad called.
“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 the independent one.”
Right. Independent. So she could pay two grand a month without complaint.
Sunday lunch at her parents was sacred. Hannah went, as always. Her daughter, Sophie, played on her tablet; Lydias husband, Mark, cracked jokes; her mum bustled with pots.
Everyone pretended nothing had happened.
“Lyd and I are thinking of buying another flat,” Mark said, serving salad. “New build. Got the deposit sortedwell rent out Grans old one.”
Hannah froze, fork mid-air.
“Rent it? What about the housewarming?”
“Plans changed,” Lydia muttered, cutting meat without looking up. “City centres too noisy, no parking. Well get something nicer.”
The fork clattered onto the plate.
“So you gave her a half-million-pound flat so she could buy a second 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 not young? Ive got a mortgage till Im fifty!”
“You chose to take the loan!”
Hannah stood. “Sophie, were leaving.”
“But youve not finished!” her mum protested.
“We finished a long time ago.”
In the hallway, pulling on her coat, Hannah noticed the open bedroom door. A stack of papers on the nightstand. On topa gift deed.
She checked the date: 15th March 2021.
In the car, Sophie asked, “Mum, why did we leave?”
“Because grown-ups sometimes lie. And they dont like admitting it.”
At home, Hannah scrolled to a photo from her own housewarming. One candle, a ten-quid bottle of wine, caption: “Home at last!”
15th March 2021.
The same day her family stood in a solicitors office, signing over half a million to Lydia.
Now she knew her exact worth to them.
Her parents called nonstop for a weekHannah 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 just one you love and one whos convenient.”
A month later, her parents asked to meet. Café, solemn faces.
“Annie, weve talked,” her dad began. “Well give you fifty grand towards your mortgage.”
“Where from?”
“Lydias lending it from the rental income,” her mum said.
Hannah stirred her coffee slowly. Even these crumbs came by Lydias grace.
“No thanks.”
“What do you mean? You wanted help!”
“I wanted honesty. Not handouts.”
The next day, Hannah left the family group chat. 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. Hannah remortgaged, took on freelance work. Skipped family events”too busy.”
Then, in the same shopping centre, she bumped into Lydia, trolley piled with posh groceries.
“Annie!” Lydia beamed. “How are you? Weve movedseventy square metres, designer finish!”
“Congrats.”
“The old ones rented outtwo grand a month, pure profit. Why so cold? Mum and Dad are heartbroken.”
“Heartbroken?”
“Well, yeah. They say you abandoned the family over a flat. Ashamed of youmoney over blood?”
Hannah eyed her sisters designer coat, handbag worth half her salary.
“Lyd, do you really think this is about money?”
“What else?”
“That for three years, you all lied to my face. But youd never get that.”
“Fine! Sulk over your principles!”
That night, Hannah stared at her housewarming photo. Back then, shed felt alone.
Now she knewshed always been alone in that “loving” family. Now, she was just free.
She opened her banking app. One hundred fifty grand left on the mortgage. Six more years of two grand a month.
But every penny was payment for no longer pretending. For knowing her worth. And that worth was far higher than her family ever reckoned.
God help them. As they sayyou can’t force affection
What would you have done? Let me know in the comments. Dont forget to like.
