Youre getting in the way, said her sister, and then she stopped answering the phone.
Youre getting in the way, Emma said into the receiver, and Sophie felt a chill run through her. We want to live our own lives, understand?
Em, but I just Sophie started, but her sister cut her off.
Dont Em me. Im forty-five, Ive got my own family, my own things to do. And youre always on the phone, complaining, asking for this and that.
But were sisters! Sophies voice trembled. Weve always been there for each other.
Have we? Emma scoffed. Whos been there for who, Id like to know? When I was having problems with David, where were you? When Jake ended up in hospital, did you even visit once?
Sophie gripped the phone tighter. A lump formed in her throat.
I was working thenyou know that. And besides, I had my own
You, you, always you! Emma snapped. Somethings always happening to you. Your blood pressure, your nerves, the neighbours giving you grief. But when other people have problems, youre suddenly too busy.
Sophie sank onto the old sofa and closed her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Em, why are you being like this? Were family.
Family, yes. But that doesnt mean I have to listen to your complaints every single day. Ive got enough on my plate as it is.
Fine, I get that I can be… a bit much sometimes. But right now, Im really struggling. After the divorce, I
Enough! Emma cut in sharply. You split up a year ago, and youre still going on about it. Dont you have anything else to talk about besides your misery?
Sophie felt something inside her break. Forty-two years theyd been more than just sisterstheyd been best friends. Emma was three years younger but always seemed stronger, more decisive. Sophie had run to her with every problem since they were kids.
Em, please, dont be angry. Ill call less, just dont say things like that.
Dont call less. Dont call at all, Emma said coldly. I need to think. We all do.
We all? What do you mean?
Davids fed up with your calls too. The kids say Aunt Sophies always crying down the phone.
That hit harder than anything. Jake and Lily, her niece and nephewthe ones she adored, the ones she bought presents for every birthday, the ones she baked cakes for.
The kids said that?
Yes. Jake asked me yesterday, Mum, why is Aunt Sophie always sad? Did something happen to her?
Sophie bit her lip. She had cried a lot on the phone to Emma. But was that so wrong? Wasnt she allowed to 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, the fact that you cant pull yourself together.
But Im trying! I got a new job, Im seeing a therapist
And you tell me about it every day. How hard work is, how expensive the therapist is, how lonely you feel in the evenings. Sophie, Ive had enough!
Silence hung between them. Sophie could hear music and laughter in the background at Emmas end. Life went on, while she sat alone in her one-bed flat, trying not to break down.
Alright, she said quietly. I get it.
What do you get?
That Im in the way. That Im a bad sister. That youre tired of me.
Sophie, dont turn it into a drama. We just need space.
How much space? A week? A month? A year?
Emma was quiet for a moment.
I dont know. Until you learn to handle your own problems.
And if I never do? If I always need my family?
Then find it somewhere else. With friends, maybe.
Friends. The irony. After the divorce, her friends had quietly vanished. Turned out theyd been friends with the couple, not just her. And making new ones in your forties wasnt exactly easy.
I dont have friends, Em. Just you.
Then its time to make some. Or see your therapist more. Youre paying for it, after all.
Anger twisted with pain. 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 pounded. Shed never been the one to end a call with Emma before.
The phone rang immediatelyEmmas number lit up the screen. Sophie stared at it, unable to answer. The calls stopped. Then a text came through:
Dont be upset. Im telling you the truth. You need to learn to stand on your own feet.
Sophie deleted it without replying.
The evening dragged. Usually, shed call Emma now, talk about her day. Theyd discuss TV shows, news, weekend plans. Now, the flat was oppressively quiet.
She tried reading, but the words blurred. Turned on the tellynone of it registered. Went to bed early, but sleep wouldnt come. Her thoughts swung between hurt and shame, anger and despair.
The next morning, she woke puffy-eyed and heavy-headed. At work, colleagues asked if she was okay, but she brushed it offjust a bad nights sleep.
At lunch, she almost dialled Emmas number. Wanted to talk about the new task her boss had given her, vent about a rude client. But she remembered yesterday and put the phone away.
Work ended. On the bus home, Sophie watched people rushing about their lives. Everyone had their own joys and struggles. And what did she have? An empty flat, the telly, and the crushing thought that no one needed her.
At home, she decided to cook something nicemaybe that would distract her. Got out the ingredients, put on music. But halfway through, it hit her: she was cooking for one. Eating alone. No one to say, This is lovely.
Tears welled up again.
The phone stayed silent. Emma didnt call.
The next day, Sophie tried ringing her. Maybe shed cooled off, was ready to talk. She clutched the phone, dialled, hung upthen finally pressed call.
Ring after ring. Then voicemail.
Hi, its Emma. Leave a message.
Sophie hung up. Maybe she was busy. Tried again an hour later. Voicemail. Two hours after thatsame.
By evening, it was clear: Emma wasnt picking up.
Sophie texted: Em, lets talk. I dont want to fight.
No reply.
Next day, she called from workmaybe Emma wouldnt recognise the number. But the second Sophie said, Hello? the line went dead. Emma had hung up.
It hurt. Badly.
She tried David, Emmas husband. Maybe he could explain, help mend things. But he didnt answer either.
A week passed. Then another. Every day, Sophie checked her phone, hoping for a missed call, a text. Nothing.
She threw herself into self-improvementsigned up for Spanish classes, joined a gym, even bought new clothes. But none of it brought joy. She just wanted someone to share the little wins with.
Learned ten new wordsno one to tell. Lost half a stoneno one to celebrate with. Got a bonus at workno one to toast with.
Sophie realised Emma hadnt just been her sistershed been her whole world. All her emotions, plans, moments revolved around them. Now, without that, there was just… emptiness.
Maybe Emma was right. Maybe she had been too dependent. But was it so wrong to be close to your own sister?
A month later, Sophie bumped into Lily, her niece. Fourteen now, nearly grown.
Aunt Sophie! Lily beamed. Hi!
Lily, love! Sophie hugged her. Hows school?
Fine. Why dont you visit anymore? Mum said you two had a fight.
Sophies chest tightened.
What exactly did she say?
Lily hesitated.
Just… that you were really upset about Uncle Mark. That you needed time.
So that was Emmas version. That Sophie was the one avoiding themnot the other way around.
Lily, do you miss me?
Course I do! Youre the best aunt. I miss your pancakes.
Tears threatened again.
I miss you too. And Jake.
Aunt Sophie, should I tell Mum I saw you? Maybe shell call?
No, sweetheart. Shell call when shes ready.
Lily nodded, though she clearly didnt get adult problems.
Okay. But dont be sad, alright? And if you wantcall me. Ive got my own phone now.
She recited her number, and Sophie saved it. At least this thin thread to Emmas family remained.
After that, Sophie made a decision. If Emma thought she was too needy, couldnt cope alonefine. Shed prove otherwise.
She made an effortchatted with Mrs. Hopkins next door (who turned out to be lonely, not just nosy). Went to work drinks shed always skipped. Made friends with women from another departmentthey invited her to the cinema, exhibitions.
Life slowly improved. But it still felt empty without Emma.
Two months after the fight, Sophie took a risk. Went to Emmas house. Stood outside, watching the lit-up windows. Her family was in thereEmma, David, the kids. Eating dinner, watching telly, sharing their day.
While she stood on the pavement like a stranger.
She buzzed the intercom.
Yeah? Davids voice.
David, its Sophie. Can I come up?
A long pause.
Sophie, nows not really
Please. I just need five minutes with Em.
She doesnt want to talk.
David, please. Im not some enemy. Im her sister.
Another pause. Muffled voices.
Fine. 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.
David opened the door, awkward, avoiding eye contact.
Come in.
Sophie hung up her coat, walked into the living room. Emma sat on the sofa, hugging a cushion. Face unreadable.
What do you want? Cold.
To talk. To fix this.
I thought we already had.
Sophie sat opposite her. David lingered by the door, uncomfortable.
Em, you were right. I was too dependent. Complained too much, asked too much.
Emmas expression softened slightlybut she stayed guarded.
And?
And Ive changed. Ive got new friends, new interests. Im handling things myself.
Good, Emma nodded. Im glad.
But I still miss you. Not as a shoulder to cry onas my sister. My best friend.
Emma looked down.
Sophie, I miss you too. But Im scared itll go back to how it was.
It wont. I promise. I wont call every day, wont dump my problems on you. Lets just be sisters again. Like before.
Emma was quiet, thinking.
And if you start crying down the phone again?
Then you can tell me. And Ill understand.
Emma sighed, put the cushion aside.
Alright. Well try.
The weight lifted.
Thank you, Em.
But no Em, she said sternlythough her eyes smiled.
They huggedtight, real. And Sophie understood: family isnt just about leaning on each other. Its also about knowing when to step back, to let each other grow.
Sometimes, you almost have to lose the person closest to youto learn how to love them right.
