*Diary Entry*
Mum wants to give our flat to my brothers son. Then expects to move in with me? Absolutely not.
“Are you out of your mind, Mum? Do you even hear yourself? Hell kick you out the second the papers are signedcant you see that?”
“Sophie, dont argue with me! My decisions final.”
At first, she held her ground, all stiff upper lip, pretending she was certain. Then she burst into tears because deep down, she knew it wasnt fair.
The truth? Matthew, my younger brother, had always been her favourite. Mum had him in her thirties, planned, deliberatea second marriage, a fresh start. Me? Well, I was an accident. A youthful mistake.
So, her attitude was simple: I existed, and that was enough. My grandmother mostly raised me while Mum finished her degree. But Matthew? She doted on him, revelled in motherhood.
I saw it all. What I never understood was why she made the favouritism so obvious. Most parents at least pretend. Not her.
Then shed wonder why Matthew and I werent close. Shocking, really.
Matthew got the best of everythingtoys, clothes, attention. Meanwhile, I made do, never daring to complain. More pocket money? Of course. “Hes a boy, Sophie. Thats how it should be.”
“Remember this,” Mum said, setting the table. “When Matthews older, hell provide for his family. Until then, its my duty to help him.”
“And what about me?”
“You? Your job is to marry well and hold onto your husband.”
I told her I had no intention of depending on a man. I wanted to growprofessionally, personally.
“Dont be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “No one in this family talks like that.”
“Then Ill be the first.”
Her logic baffled me. I refused to follow it. Soon after, I moved into a rented flatmy first taste of freedom. Living under the same roof with them had become unbearable. The older I got, the worse it was.
They didnt seem to mind. More space for them.
Five years passed. I bought my own place, mortgage paid off. Meanwhile, Matthew still lived with Mum, moved his wife in, and soon had a baby.
Mum had always been content with her lotuntil suddenly, she wasnt.
“Youll never guessMrs. next door got a dishwasher. Her kids bought it for her.”
“Lovely.”
“Id love one, but I darent ask.”
“Why not?”
“Matthews jobs shaky. Layoffs any day now. Alice is on maternity leavebarely any pay.”
Matthew had another charming habit: he never shared his money. Yet he was perfectly happy living off Mums pension, as if groceries magically restocked themselves.
“Have you no shame?” I snapped when I bumped into him at the supermarket. He was loading up on beer and crisps for the football.
“Wheres this coming from?”
“You could at least help Mum. Shes on a pension, not made of money. Do you even know she buys all the food?”
He looked awayknew I was right.
“Whats it to you? You dont even live with us.”
“I care about her!”
“Worry about yourself. No husband, no kids. Pathetic.”
He walked off. His words stung. He always knew where to twist the knife.
At thirty-five, Id never married. My exa years-long relationshipcheated, and I wasnt ready to trust again.
“Need help, love?” the cashier asked.
“No, thanks. Im fine.”
Matthew was no teenager. He was a grown man, a father. Time he acted like one.
“Sophie, how dare you speak to him like that?” Mum hissed when she called.
“I was defending you.”
“Did I ask you to? Now hes in a rage, shoutingthe babys crying, thanks to you.”
“Thanks to *me*?”
“Dont upset him. You know how sensitive he is.”
Not once did she consider my feelings. Even when I stood up for her, I was still the villain.
Six months of silence. Then, out of nowhere, she called. Asked me to visit.
Nothing had changed. No dishwasher, of course.
“Wheres Matthew and Alice?”
“Anniversary party. Im watching little Jack. Tea?”
“No. What did you want to say?”
“Ive decided. Im giving the flat to Jack.”
I thought she was joking. Testing me.
“Youre giving *our* flat to your grandson? Are you serious?”
“Sophie, dont argue!”
I tried to explain the riskshed have no security. She wouldnt listen.
“So youre their maid *and* youre handing over the house?”
“Dont exaggerate. I just help.”
“What does Alice do all day?”
“She looks after the baby. Harder than any job.”
“Did she tell you that? Because I see her posting on Instagram nonstop.”
“Stop it! You dont understandyouve no children.”
I shouldnt have come. Six months apart, and nothing had changed.
“New car? On finance?” she asked.
“No. I bought it.”
“And you couldnt help your brother? Hes been laid offstruggling.”
I marvelled at her reasoning. Matthew chose to be a father. Time he acted like one.
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
“Im saying you couldve bought Jack a proper bed. Or a dishwashermy hands ache scrubbing.”
“I should go.”
She kept ranting as I left. One last question:
“If you sign the flat over, they *will* kick you out. Where will you go?”
She scoffed. “Oh, Sophie! Jacks my only grandchild. Youll never give me one. Not with that attitude. Selfish, thats your problem!”
No point arguing. If theyre so perfect, *they* can buy the dishwasher.
Ive made my own way. It wasnt easy, but here we are. Mums made her choicelong ago.
Well. You make your bed, you lie in it. Shell learntoo lateold age comes fast.
Funny, isnt it?
