You’re the Older Brother, So You Must Help Your Younger Sister – You Own Two Flats, Give One to Your Sister!

Author Walton MerrittReading 3 minViews 3

Youre the older brother, so its your sacred duty to help your younger sister. You have two flatsgive one to her!

Not long ago, we celebrated my sister-in-laws birthday with all the grandeur and subtle family tension youd expect. Now, Emma (thats my sister-in-law) has never been particularly keen on me, and, in the spirit of fairness, I returned the sentiment dutifully. The festivities drew the entire familyfrom grandparents and nieces to the birthday girl herself. Every relative seemed to think congratulating my husband on his sisters birthday was the prime activity, all while marveling at his boundless generosity.

We graciously accepted all the congratulations, though neither of us had any clue why we deserved such accolades. We held a pristine envelope containing our modest giftfive hundred pounds in cash. A decent present, I thought, respectable for such an occasion, if hardly enough to warrant applause. Things only became clear when my mother-in-law chimed in with her heartfelt wishes.

Oliver, its your sisters birthday. Shes still single and without a partner, so it falls to you, as her older brother, to look after her, keep her safe. You now own two flatsso hand one over to Emma!

And would you believe it, the whole room erupted in applause! I nearly fell off my chair, gobsmacked by the sheer cheek of it. Yet, the drama was far from over.

Brother, I want the new one! Oh, when can I move in? Emma piped up, as if we were doling out flats like slices of birthday cake.

Heres the thing: my husband and I do, technically, have two flats. One was inherited from my grandmother; we did a bit of sprucing up and now rent it out. The rental income helps pay off our mortgage on the new flat, which is where we actually live. My husband has no legal claim over my grannys flat, and its always been my plan to pass it on to our childnot to my sister-in-law.

Forget about it, I said, the flat we rent out is mine, and the one youre mooning over is where we live.

Oh, you must be mistaken, my mother-in-law sniffed, as my sons wife, your assets belong to both of you, and your husband should manage them.

Look, you can help your daughter as you like, but leave my property out of it! I shot back. Oliver, anything to add?

My ever-generous husband piped up, Darling, well earn more and buy another flat, and well give Emma this one. It is her birthday, after all.

You cant be serious! I gawked. If you desperately want to give your sister a part of our shared home, youre welcome to do soright after the divorce paperwork is filed.

Shame on you, speaking to your husband like that! If you want a divorce, you can have it! my mother-in-law fumed. Son, pack your bags and come home! And as for you, she spat at me, you’re wicked and greedy!

That was my cue to exit that madhouse. I wasnt about to stick around with a bunch who felt so entitled to divvy up my grannys flat, simply because it was birthday season. Cheers, family!

After Turning Seventy, She Felt Forgotten—Even Her Own Son and Daughter Didn’t Wish Her a Happy Birthday Lydia sat alone on a hospital bench, tears streaming down her face. It was her seventieth birthday, but not a single birthday wish came from her children. Only her roommate congratulated her, offering a humble gift, and Nurse Katie brought her an apple in honour of her special day. The hospital was pleasant enough, but the staff seemed indifferent. It was clear to everyone why so many elderly people ended up here—children bringing their parents when they became “inconvenient.” Lydia’s own son brought her, claiming she needed rest to recover, but she knew deep down she had simply become a burden to his wife. Lydia once owned a flat, but her son pressured her into transferring ownership. Before she signed the documents he promised she would keep living there as she always had. In reality, the whole family moved in, and Lydia clashed constantly with her daughter-in-law. Her daughter-in-law was always finding fault—complaining that her borscht was bland, that there was a puddle in the bathroom, and more. At first, her son stood up for her, but soon enough he stopped, and began raising his voice at her. Lydia noticed her son and his wife whispering conspiratorially. Then the hints began—maybe a rest and some recuperation would do her good. Eventually, Lydia confronted her son: “Have you really decided to send me to a care home?” He blushed, lowered his eyes, and mumbled: “Mum, please don’t start, it’s just a health resort—go for a month, get your strength back, then you can come home.” He brought her here, signed a few forms, promised to visit soon, then left. She’s now been here for two years. She called her son, but a strange man answered, saying her son had sold the flat. She never found out where he’d gone. At first, she spent countless nights crying—the moment they brought her here, she knew she’d never see home again. And worst of all, she deeply regretted the way she’d once hurt her own daughter for her son’s sake. Lydia grew up in the countryside, where her family ran a large house and smallholding. One day, a neighbour convinced her husband city life was better, with good wages and comfortable living. Her husband loved the idea so much that they soon sold everything and moved to the city. Life was easier at first, with a new flat, furniture, even a battered old car—until her husband was killed in a crash. Lydia was left alone with two children. To provide for them, she scrubbed the stairwells in the evenings. She hoped that one day, her children would help her—but that day never came. Her son got into trouble, forcing her to borrow large sums to keep him out of jail. Her daughter married, had a son, and seemed happy—until her grandson grew ill. Her daughter quit her job to care for him, while doctors struggled to provide a diagnosis. In time, a rare disease was found, treatable only in a single specialist hospital with a long waiting list. While seeking help, her daughter’s husband left. At the hospital, she met a widower whose daughter suffered the same illness. They moved in together. Four years later, the daughter’s new husband needed an expensive operation and asked Lydia for a loan. Lydia said no—she’d been saving everything for her son’s first mortgage payment. Her daughter was hurt, declared she no longer had a mother, and hasn’t spoken to her for eleven years. Back in the present, Lydia got up and slowly made her way inside—when suddenly she heard: “Mum!” Her heart leapt as she turned and saw her daughter. Suddenly her legs nearly gave way, and her daughter caught her. “I’ve been searching for you for so long. My brother refused to give me your address until I threatened legal action for the illegal sale of your flat. Mum, I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to visit. At first, I was furious with you, and then I kept putting it off—but mostly, I was ashamed. A few weeks ago, I had a dream where you were wandering through the woods, crying. I woke up feeling awful and told my husband, who insisted I find you and make amends. When I went to your flat, strangers answered the door, and I had to hunt my brother down. We have a big house by the sea—my husband says you must come and live with us.” Lydia hugged her daughter tightly and broke down in tears—this time, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.