“Your bonus couldnt have come at a better timeyour sister needs to pay six months rent upfront,” Mum declared.
Emily paused in the kitchen doorway, the words she wanted to say lodged in her throat. Her fingers tightened around her still-warm phonethe one that had just pinged with her bosss bonus confirmation. Three unread voice notes from her best mate, Sophie, about the two-week Spanish getaway theyd nearly booked.
“What?” she managed.
Mum didnt even glance up from stirring her Sunday roast. Giggles drifted in from the living room sofaher younger sister, Lily, glued to yet another episode of *Love Island*.
“You heard. Lily and that lad of hers whats his name” Mum frowned, scraping gravy. “Olivers found a flat. Landlord wants six months upfront. Wheres she meant to get that? Your bonus is perfect.”
Not a question. A decree. Just like always.
Emily hung up her coat, slow and deliberateher way of keeping calm after twenty-eight years of swallowing words.
“Mum, I had plans for that money,” she began carefully. “Sophie and I were going to”
“Oh, not Sophie again,” Mum waved a dismissive tea towel. “Always dragging you off somewhere. Youre nearly thirty, loveshouldnt you be settling down, not swanning about with your mates?”
Lily flounced ina carbon copy of Mum, just younger and with a rose tattoo on her wrist. She grabbed a yoghurt, leaned against the counter, and smirked.
“Em, why the long face? Bonus came through, yeah? Brilliant.” She licked the spoon. “Ollie found this lush place yesterdaytwo bedrooms, garden view, landladys proper nice. Only catch is the six-month thing. Bit steep, but youll sort it, wont you?”
Emily studied her sister. While she scraped her dark hair into a work bun, Lily was all golden curls and effortless charm. Dads favouriteback when he still lived with them, before he ran off with his yoga instructor three years ago.
“Lily, why cant Oliver pay?” Emily kept her voice even. “Hes twenty-six. His parents could help.”
Lily rolled her eyes.
“His dads business is struggling. Temporary blip. Besides, hell pay you back. Couples help each other, yeah?”
“*Help*,” Emily echoed. “Not demand your sister bankroll your life.”
“Dont be dramatic.” Lily patted her shoulder. “Youve got years for holidays. We *need* this flat. Ollie and I want to see if were serious.”
Mum snorted. “Serious? Get a ring first.”
“Nobody does that anymore,” Lily drawled. “Right, Em?”
Emily said nothing. Four years at the firm, promotions fought for, weekends sacrificed. Her last proper break? A soggy week in Cornwall two summers ago.
Lily, meanwhile, had cycled through jobs like fashion trendscurrently “figuring herself out” between nail art courses. Oliver was equally adriftcrypto one month, DJing the next.
“Emily,” Mums tone sharpened. “Dont be selfish. Family comes first.”
*Selfish?* She bit back a laugh. Half her salary went on bills, while Lily splurged on Zara hauls and bottomless brunches with Oliver.
“Ive saved for this trip a year, Mum,” she said quietly.
“Trip!” Mum slammed the oven shut. “Your sisters building a life, and youre fussing over sangria?”
Lily batted her lashes. “Em, *please*. Ill pay you back. Promise.”
“When?” Emily snapped. “Youve been figuring it out since uni.”
“Not everyones a workaholic,” Mum cut in. “Lilys the homemaker type. Men like that.”
“And men dont like me?” The words spilled out.
Mum gave her a lookhalf pity, half frustration. “Well, love, youre always tired. Hard to spark romance when youre glued to spreadsheets.”
Lily snatched Emilys phone, scrolling through villa photos. “Blimey, five-star? Bit flash. Couldve done Butlins and saved loads.”
Emily reclaimed her phone. “I wanted *one* nice thing.”
“And your sister wants *stability*,” Mum said. “Priorities, love.”
Later. Always *later*.
“How much?” Emily already knew shed lost.
Lily beamed. “Twelve grand! But its a stealworks out under two grand a month.”
Emily stiffened. Her entire bonus.
“Lil, I”
“Emily.” Mum faced her fully. “You wont say no. I didnt raise you like that.”
The doorbell rang. Lily squealed. “Ollies here! Stay for dinner?”
Emily shook her head. “Im knackered. Early start.”
Upstairs, she stared at her phone. Five texts from Sophie:
*”Bonus landed? Bikini shopping tomorrow? “*
*”Hellooooo?”*
*”Found a killer hotelgotta book NOW.”*
*”Em??”*
*”You okay?”*
Laughter floated upLilys tinkling giggle, Olivers booming voice, Mums “*Eat up, lad!*”
*”Cant go,”* Emily typed.
*”WHAT?? WHY?”*
How to explain? The script shed followed her whole life?
*”Family stuff.”*
*”Lily again?? Whenll you stop bailing them out?”*
No reply. Her childhood roomsame floral wallpaper, same wobbly desksuddenly felt suffocating.
She grabbed her coat.
“Going out?” Mum called.
“Walk. Heads pounding.”
“Dont forget to transfer Lilys money tomorrow.”
Outside, the cold air sharpened her thoughts. Sophies texts kept coming:
*”Em, I get it, but you cant set yourself on fire to keep them warm.”*
*”You said you wanted your own place this year. Whats stopping you?”*
Emily stopped by the Thames, watching lit-up flats across the waterstrangers living lives shed only imagined.
*”Im coming,”* she sent.
*”WAIT. REALLY?? What about family stuff?”*
*”Let them figure it out.”*
The weight lifted. For the first time in years, she breathed freely.
*”Serious? No take-backs?”* Sophie replied.
*”Dead serious. Booking now.”*
Right there on the embankment, fingers numb, she secured two tickets to Marbella.
—
She returned late. The flat was quietjust *Love Island* reruns from Lilys room.
Next morning, Mum cornered her over tea.
“Transfer Lilys money. Shes signing the lease today.”
“What money?” Emily stirred her coffee.
Mums frown deepened. “Your bonus. The bank alert came last night.”
Emily froze.
“You what?”
“Joint account, love. Family expenses.”
A joint account. Years ago, shed added Mum for conveniencenever dreaming shed monitor every deposit.
“Mum, that moneys gone,” she said slowly. “I booked the holiday.”
Silence.
“Cancel it,” Mum ordered. “Lilys counting on you.”
“Not cancelling.”
Mums face paled. “After all Ive done”
“Ive been the good daughter too long,” Emily cut in. “The one who pays. Who doesnt complain. Lily gets to float because we *let* her.”
Lily shuffled in, unicorn pyjamas askew. “Whats the row?”
“Your sisters thrown away your flat money on some *lads holiday*,” Mum spat.
Lily gaped. “But Ollies already packing!”
“Then unpack,” Emily said. “Youre twenty-three. Get a job. Pay your own way.”
“Easy for you!” Lily wailed. “Im *creative*! Offices kill my soul!”
“And mooching off me doesnt?”
“ENOUGH!” Mum shouted. “If this is how you treat family, leave.”
Emily looked at themidentical expressions of wounded entitlement. Theyd never understand.
“Fine,” she said. “After the holiday.”
—
Two weeks in Spain blurred bysun, sea, and proper sleep. She and Sophie danced till dawn, ate paella by the shore, laughed like uni girls again.
She checked her phone sparingly. Missed calls. Guilt-trip texts. No replies.
On their last night, Sophie clinked her glass to Emilys. “What now?”
“No going back,” Emily said. “Mums words, not mine.”
“Crash at mine till you find a place?”
Emily smiled, showing
