Grandma listened to my aunt and threw us out—my husband and me. The first night, we slept on the street.
My grandmother lives with my aunt in a three-bedroom flat. The youngest daughter, my mother’s sister, is forty but has never lived on her own. She has no family, no friends, no job—she lives off my grandmother. My mum pays all the bills because Gran’s pension doesn’t stretch far enough.
I never asked my family for anything, but hard times came, and I had no choice.
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After the wedding, my husband and I lived in a council flat. We saved for a mortgage, dreaming of even a one-bedroom place. We searched forever and finally settled on a flat that wasn’t even finished. But where to live for six months?
Renting made no sense—we needed every penny, not more expenses. I decided to ask Gran if we could stay with her. One room stood completely empty, and part of the flat belonged to my mum anyway. Gran happily agreed, so we started packing.
We sold our council flat, put the money into the new place, and moved in with Gran. We bought groceries and cleaning supplies but acted like guests. My aunt helped herself to our food without so much as a thank you. She ignored us from day one. If we came home, she’d vanish into her room.
We didn’t stay long. A month later, my mum called, sounding shaken, and asked us to leave.
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My aunt had kicked up a stornorm. We were in the way, ruining her peace, so she’d rowed with Gran until she got her way.
We packed up, grabbed our cat, and started flat-hunting. The first night, we slept on the pavement. The next day, we found somewhere. Thank God my mum sent us money to help.
Gran just did whatever her brazen daughter demanded. She didn’t care how we’d manage or if we were alright.
I haven’t spoken to my family since. My mum begs me not to blame Gran—says she’s under my aunt’s thumb—but I don’t care. I won’t keep ties with traitors.
