“You’re in the way,” said her sister, and the line went dead.
“You’re in the way,” Emily said into the phone, and Sophie felt an icy shiver run down her spine. “We want to live our own lives, understand?”
“Em, but I” Sophie began, but her sister cut her off.
“No more of that ‘Em’ nonsense. I’m forty-five, I have my own family, my own business. And you’re always on the phone, complaining, asking for one thing after another.”
“But we’re sisters!” Sophies voice trembled. “Weve always helped each other.”
“Helped?” Emily scoffed. “Who helped whom, I wonder? Where were you when Mark and I had problems? When Alfie was in hospital, did you even visit once?”
Sophie gripped the phone tighter. A lump rose in her throat.
“I was working then, you know that. And besides, I had my own”
“You, you, you!” Emily exploded. “It’s always something with you. Blood pressure, nerves, the neighbours making trouble. But when other people have problems, suddenly you’re too busy.”
Sophie sank onto the old sofa and shut her eyes. Tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Em, why are you being like this? Were family.”
“Family, yes. But that doesnt mean I have to listen to your moaning every day. Ive got enough on my plate.”
“Alright, I get it. Maybe Ive been… clingy. But right now, I really need help. After the divorce”
“Enough!” Emily snapped. “You split up a year ago, and youre still going on about it. Is there anything else you talk about besides your misery?”
Something inside Sophie shattered. Forty-two years theyd been not just sisters, but best friends. Emily, three years younger, had always seemed stronger, more decisive. Sophie had run to her with every problem since childhood.
“Em, please dont be angry. Ill call less, just dont say things like that.”
“Not less. Not at all,” Emily said coldly. “I need to think. We all do.”
“What do you mean, ‘we all’?”
“Marks had enough of your calls too. The kids say Aunt Sophies always crying down the line.”
That hurt worst of all. Alfie and Lily, the niece and nephew she adored, whose birthdays she never missed, bringing homemade cakes and gifts.
“The kids said that?”
“Yes. Alfie asked me yesterday, ‘Mum, whys Aunt Sophie always sad? Did something happen to her?'”
Sophie bit her lip. She had cried often on the phone with her sister. But was that so wrong? Couldnt she be weak with the person closest to her?
“I didnt mean to upset them.”
“But you did. And not just them. Were all tired, Sophie. Tired of your depression, your endless problems, your refusal to pull yourself together.”
“But Im trying! I got a new job, Ive been seeing a therapist”
“And you tell me about it every day. How hard work is, how expensive therapy is, how lonely you feel in the evenings. Sophie, Im sick of it!”
Silence hummed down the line. Sophie could hear laughter and music in the background at Emilys end. Life went on, while she sat alone in her tiny flat, fighting back sobs.
“Fine,” she whispered. “I understand.”
“What do you understand?”
“That Im in your way. That Im a terrible sister. That youre tired of me.”
“Sophie, dont twist it into drama. We just need space.”
“How much space? A week? A month? A year?”
Emily was quiet for a moment.
“I dont know. Until you can handle your own problems.”
“And if I cant? If Ill always need my family?”
“Then find support somewhere else. Friends, maybe.”
Friends. What a joke. After the divorce, her friends had quietly vanishedturns out theyd been friends with the couple, not her. And making new friends in your forties wasnt easy.
“I dont have friends, Em. Just you.”
“Then make some. Or see your therapist more. Youre paying for it.”
Anger surged through Sophie, mixing with the ache. Did her sister really not understand?
“A therapist isnt family.”
“And family isnt your personal crying towel.”
Sophie hung up. Her hands shook, her heart hammered. Shed never been the one to end a call with Emily before.
The phone rang immediately. Emilys number flashed on the screen. Sophie stared, unable to answer. The ringing stopped. Then a message: *Dont be upset. Im telling the truth. You need to learn to stand on your own.*
Sophie deleted it without replying.
The evening dragged endlessly. Normally, shed call Emily now, share her day, talk about telly or weekend plans. Now, silence pressed down on the flat.
She tried reading, but the words blurred. The telly meant nothing. She went to bed early but couldnt sleep, tossing between anger, shame, and despair.
Morning came with puffy eyes and a heavy head. Colleagues asked if she was illshe blamed bad sleep.
At lunch, she nearly dialled Emilys number. She wanted to vent about her bosss new task, a rude client. But yesterdays words echoed, and she put the phone away.
Work ended. On the bus home, Sophie watched strangers rushing about, each with their own lives, joys, troubles. And her? An empty flat, the telly, and the certainty she mattered to no one.
Dinnercooking for one, eating alone, no one to say *this tastes lovely* to.
Tears threatened again.
The phone stayed silent. Emily didnt call.
Next day, Sophie tried calling her. Maybe shed cooled off. Fingers trembling, she dialled, hung up, tried again.
Ringing. Endless ringing. Then voicemail.
*”Hi, its Em. Leave a message.”*
She hung up. Maybe Emily was busy. Tried an hour latervoicemail. Two hourssame.
By evening, it was clear. Emily wasnt answering.
Sophie texted: *Em, lets talk. I dont want to fight.*
No reply.
Next day, she called from workmaybe Emily wouldnt recognise the number. But the moment Sophie said *hello*, the line went dead. Emily had known her voice.
It hurt. Badly.
She tried Mark, her brother-in-law. Maybe hed explain, help mend things. But he didnt answer either.
A week passed. Then two. Sophie checked her phone daily, hoping for a missed call, a message. Nothing.
She tried self-improvementEnglish classes, the gym, new clothes. No joy. She wanted to share tiny victories.
Learned ten new wordsno one to tell. Lost a few poundsno one to cheer. Got a bonusno one to celebrate with.
Sophie realised Emily hadnt just been her sistershed been her whole world. Now, without her, there was just emptiness.
Maybe Emily was right. Maybe shed leaned too hard. But was it wrong to be close to family?
A month later, she bumped into Lily, her niece. Fourteen now, nearly grown.
“Aunt Sophie!” Lily beamed. “Hi!”
“Sweetheart,” Sophie hugged her. “Hows school?”
“Fine. Why dont you visit? Mum said you had a row.”
Sophies heart clenched.
“What exactly did she say?”
Lily hesitated.
“Well… that youre really upset about Uncle Paul. And you need time.”
So that was Emilys storySophie had chosen distance, not the other way around.
“Lily, do you miss me?”
“Course! Youre the best aunt. And your pancakes are amazing.”
Tears threatened again.
“I miss you too. And Alfie.”
“Aunt Sophie, want me to tell Mum I saw you? Maybe shell call.”
“Dont, love. Shell call when shes ready.”
Lily nodded, though adult troubles clearly baffled her.
“Alright. But dont be sad, okay? And call me if you want. Ive got my own phone now.”
Sophie saved the numbera thin thread to Emilys family remained.
After that, Sophie made a decision. If Emily thought she couldnt cope alone, shed prove her wrong. Shed show she could live without leaning on her sister.
She chatted with Mrs. Henderson next dooronce just a nosy old woman, now a lonely widow needing company. At work, she joined colleagues for drinks, made friends in other departments, went to the theatre.
Life improved. But Emilys absence still ached.
Two months after the fight, Sophie took a desperate step. She went to Emilys house. Stood outside, watching their lit windows. Emily, Mark, the kidseating, laughing, living.
While she stood in the cold, a stranger.
She buzzed the intercom.
“Yeah?” Marks voice.
“Mark, its Sophie. Can I come up?”
A long pause.
“Sophie, nows not great”
“Please. I need to talk to Em. Five minutes.”
“She doesnt want to.”
“Mark, please. Im not an enemy. Im her sister.”
More silence. Muffled voices debating.
“Alright. But make it quick.”
Sophie climbed the familiar stairs, heart pounding. How many times had she run up these steps with birthday cakes, Christmas presents, just to visit?
Mark opened the door, awkward, avoiding her eyes.
“Come in,” he muttered.
Sophie took off her coat, stepped into the living room. Emily sat on the sofa, clutching a cushion, face stony.
“What do you want?” she said coldly.
“To talk. To explain.”
“I thought wed settled it.”
Sophie sat opposite. Mark hovered by the door, uncomfortable.
“Em, you were right. I was too dependent. I complained too much, asked too much.”
Emilys expression softened slightly, but wariness remained.
“And now?”
“Now Ive changed. New friends, new hobbies. Im handling things myself.”
“Good,” Emily nodded. “Im glad.”
“But I still miss you. Not as a shoulder to cry onas my sister. My closest person.”
Emily looked down.
“Sophie, I miss you too. But Im scared itll go back to how it was.”
“It wont. I promise. No daily calls, no dumping my problems. Lets just talk. Like sisters.”
Emily sighed, put the cushion aside.
“Alright. Well try.”
Relief flooded Sophie.
“Thank you, Em.”
“And none of that ‘Em,'” Emily said sternlybut her eyes smiled.
They hugged. Tight, real. And Sophie understoodfamily wasnt just support in hard times. It was knowing when to give space, when to let go.
Sometimes you had to nearly lose someone to learn how to love them right.
