“Im not cooking for everyone anymore! Just for myself and Annie.”
“Why on earth not?” snapped Nicholas.
“Because in this family, as Ive realised, everyone fends for themselves. So carry on like that!”
“Mum, wheres my breakfast?” Yvonne barged into the bedroom without knocking. “Ill be late for school!”
Nina tried to sit up, but her head spun. The thermometer read thirty-eight point seven. Her throat burned, her chest rattled.
“Yvonne, Im ill… Grab something from the fridge.”
“Theres nothing in there! Just yoghurts for the little one!” Her daughter stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “You only ever think about her!”
A cry came from the nursery. Annie had woken up. Nina forced herself to stand, legs buckling, vision swimming.
“Nina, wheres my shirt?” Nicholas called from the bathroom. “The blue striped one?”
“It should be in the wardrobe…”
“Its not! Did you iron it yesterday?”
Nina leaned against the wall. Shed spent all day yesterday with a fever, trying to care for the youngest.
“No, I didnt get round to it.”
“For heavens sake! Ive got a meeting!” Her husband slammed the bathroom door in frustration.
Annies cries grew louder. Nina stumbled to the nursery, scooped her up, and held her close.
“Mum!” Yvonne shouted from the kitchen. “Theres literally nothing here! Not even bread!”
“Moneys on the table. Buy something on your way.”
“Im not stopping at the shop! Ive got an exam! And anyway, its your job to feed us!”
Nina silently walked to the kitchen, Annie in her arms. She pulled frozen burgers from the freezer, set a pan on the stove.
“And make pasta!” Yvonne ordered, eyes glued to her phone.
As breakfast cooked, Nicholas emerged from the bedroom in a wrinkled shirt.
“Had to wear this one. I look like a tramp. Thanks for that!”
Nina stayed silent. Speaking hurt, and she had no energy left for explanations.
“Its Sophies birthday today,” Yvonne announced, piling pasta onto her plate. “Im going to hers after school. Ill be back late.”
“Yvonne, I feel awful. Could you stay and help with your sister?”
“Yeah, right! Ive been waiting for this party for months! And anyway, I didnt ask for a sister! Thats your problem!”
She grabbed her bag and slammed the door behind her.
Nicholas ate his breakfast while scrolling through his phone.
“Nina, could you come home early today? I really dont feel well.”
“Cant. Theres a work do after hours. You know how it is.”
“But Im ill…”
“Take something. Paracetamol or whatever. Youre not bedridden. Youll manage.”
He kissed her sweaty forehead and left.
Nina was alone with her three-year-old. Annie demanded attention, food, play. Nina mechanically did what was needed, feeling her strength drain.
By lunch, her fever hit thirty-nine. She managed to feed the child, put her down for a nap, then collapsed onto the sofa. Her head throbbed, her heart raced.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Yvonne: *”Mum, send money for Sophies present. Now!”*
Nina didnt reply. She didnt even have the strength to pick up the phone.
Nicholas returned first that evening, cheerful and slightly tipsy, carrying a shopping bag.
“Got some beer and crisps! Theres a match on!” He flopped onto the sofa and turned on the TV.
“Nicholas, please feed Annie. I cant get up.”
“That bad?” He finally looked at his wife. “Why are you so red?”
“High fever. All day…”
“Well, call an ambulance if its serious. Wheres Annie?”
“In her cot. Shell wake soon.”
“Fine, Ill feed her. When she wakes up.”
Annie stirred half an hour later, crying for her mum. Nicholas reluctantly paused the TV and picked her up.
“Whats all the fuss? Come to Dad!”
But the toddler squirmed, wailing even louder. Nicholas floundered.
“Nina, she wants you!”
“Give her a biscuit from the cupboard. And some juice.”
“Where? I cant find anything!”
She forced herself up. The room swayed as she grabbed the wall. Nina fetched the biscuit, poured juice into a sippy cup. Annie calmed slightly.
Yvonne came home after midnight. Nina was still awake, fever keeping her up.
“Why didnt you reply?” Yvonne snapped as soon as she walked in. “I had to borrow money from Sophies mum! So embarrassing!”
“Yvonne, Ive had a fever all day…”
“So? Couldnt you pick up the phone? It takes two seconds!”
The next morning, Nicholas shook her awake.
“Nina, get up! Ive got work, and Annies screaming!”
Her fever had broken, but weakness lingered. Nina rose, dressed Annie, and got her ready.
“What about breakfast?” Nicholas asked.
“Make it yourself. Im taking Annie to nursery.”
“Me? I cant cook! And Im in a rush!”
“Youll learn.”
Something in her tone silenced him. He muttered under his breath and headed to the kitchen.
When Nina returned, the house was a messdirty dishes, scattered clothes, an unmade bed. Normally, shed clean immediately. But not today.
She showered, drank tea, and went back to bed.
That evening, the family gathered for dinneror rather, around an empty table.
“Mum, whats for dinner?” Yvonne asked.
“No idea. Whatever you make.”
“What?” Her daughter gaped.
“I mean it. Im not cooking for everyone anymore. Just for myself and Annie.”
“Whats got into you?” Nicholas scowled.
“Because in this family, Ive realised, everyones on their own. So live like it!”
“Nina, come on.” He tried to hug her, but she stepped back.
“Im tired of being a servant! Yesterday proved Im just unpaid staff to you.”
“Mum, I said sorry!” Yvonne lied.
“No, you didnt. Neither did Dad. No one even asked how I was.”
“Fine, sorry!” Yvonne huffed. “So what now, we starve?”
“The fridge is full. Youve got hands. Cook.”
The first week was chaos. Yvonne threw tantrums, Nicholas grumbled and slammed doors. Nina held firmcooking only for herself and Annie, washing only their clothes, tidying only the nursery.
“Mum, my jeans are filthy! Everythings dirty!” Yvonne wailed.
“The washing machines right there. Detergents in the cupboard.”
“I dont know how!”
“Youll learn. Instructions are on the lid.”
Nicholas went to work in crumpled shirts, ate at cafés. Money vanished fast.
“Nina, this is madness! Eating out every day!”
“Cook at home. Its cheaper.”
“I dont know how!”
“Try YouTube. Millions of recipes.”
The house descended into chaosdirty dishes, unswept floors, dust. Nina saw it but didnt intervene. She only kept the nursery clean.
After two weeks, Yvonne attempted pasta. Forgot salt, overcooked itended up with mush.
“Mum, help!”
“No. Learn.”
“Youre my mother! Youre supposed to!”
“Im obliged to care for minors. Fancy meals arent part of the deal. Bread, milk, cerealyou wont starve.”
Nicholas tried scrambled eggs. Burnt them. Tried againedible this time.
“Look, Nina! I made eggs!”
She nodded and returned to her book. No praise, no fuss.
By week three, the flat was a dump. Yvonne cried over a mountain of laundry.
“Mum, please! Just this once! Ive got nothing clean for school!”
“You were home all yesterday. Couldve washed it.”
“I was doing homework!”
“And I work from home, cook, clean up after Annie, take her out. I manage.”
“Youre an adult!”
“And you want adult privilegesstaying out late, pocket money? Then act like one.”
By months end, resistance crumbled. Yvonne learned to wash, cook basics, tidy. Nicholas mastered eggs, pasta, even simple soup.
One evening, Nina returned from the park with Annie to a set table and the smell of food. Nicholas and Yvonne stood guiltily.
“Mum, we made dinner,” Yvonne said softly. “I did salad, Dad roasted chicken.”
“Thank you,” Nina replied calmly.
“Mum, were sorry,” Y
