«No, Mum, just no! Don’t call me again! I’m sick of your endless demands!» Emma hurled her phone onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands.
«Now what’s happened?» Oliver stepped out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a tea towel.
«Ollie, I can’t take it anymore. Mum’s asking for money again—this time it’s for Sophie. A new coat, apparently, because it’s ’embarrassing to wear last season’s when your husband’s a director.’ Meanwhile, nobody cares that my phone’s been outdated for three years!»
Oliver sighed deeply and sat beside his wife. For the past five years, their marriage had become a constant battle with Emma’s relatives, who clung to their household budget like leeches for every little whim.
It had started small. First, Mum needed help fixing the roof at the cottage. Then younger sister Sophie «just had to have» money for her wedding. Then brother Daniel landed in debt and demanded an urgent bailout. It never ended. There was always a fresh excuse to drain Emma and Oliver dry.
«Listen, love,» Oliver squeezed Emma’s shoulder, «we’ve stayed quiet too long. I’m picking up extra shifts at the surgery. You’re translating documents till midnight. Yet your family treats our savings like their personal cash machine.»
Emma wiped her tears, knowing he was right. But how could she explain that to her mother? How could she say no to her own flesh and blood?
«Ollie, they’re my family. I can’t just cut them off.»
«I’m not asking you to. But we need boundaries. Your sister’s married to some big-shot director, you said. Why can’t he buy her a coat? And Daniel? It’s been a year since he promised to repay us. We cancelled our holiday because of him!»
The phone rang again. Emma flinched at Mum’s name flashing on the screen.
«Don’t answer,» Oliver urged.
But Emma had already pressed accept.
«Yes, Mum.»
«Emma! What’s this tone? I’m not asking for myself! Sophie’s expecting—she can’t risk catching a chill! That old coat won’t do. You’ve got the means—Oliver’s a GP, for heaven’s sake! You went to Majorca last summer!»
«Majorca took us two years to save for! And Sophie’s husband isn’t broke. Why can’t he—»
«They’ve got a mortgage, a new car—prices are sky-high! And you’d begrudge your own sister—»
«I don’t begrudge anyone!» Emma snapped. «But we have plans too. A baby to save for.»
«Ah! So it’s Oliver’s influence! You were never this heartless before. Family helps family!»
The injustice boiled in Emma’s chest. Hadn’t she always helped? Sacrificed for Mum, Sophie, Daniel—endlessly?
«I’ve got work, Mum.» She hung up mid-tirade.
Oliver watched her shoulders sag under the weight of guilt. It wounded him to see the woman he loved suffer at the hands of those who should’ve lifted her up.
«Emma, this can’t go on.»
«I know,» she whispered. «But not tonight. Please.»
Nodding, Oliver retreated to make dinner. She needed time. But action couldn’t wait much longer.
Mid-bite that evening, the doorbell chimed. They exchanged puzzled glances—no guests were expected.
On the threshold stood Sophie—Emma’s sister. Flawless manicure, designer handbag, couture dress. Not a woman in need.
«Hello, sis!» Sophie breezed in uninvited. «Mum said you refused to help me? Seriously?»
Emma froze. Oliver emerged, his greeting frosty.
«Yes, Sophie. We can’t spare it.»
«But you always do!» Sophie’s performative gasp echoed. «What’s changed?»
«Nothing’s changed,» Emma steadied herself. «But our money funds our plans now.»
«What plans?» Sophie scoffed. «Another holiday? Mum mentioned a baby—ridiculous! You’re mid-thirties! I need this coat now!»
Oliver’s fists clenched. They’d endured fertility treatments for years—this casual cruelty was a gut punch.
«Sophie,» he said tightly, «congratulations on the pregnancy. But your husband’s a director. Why can’t he—»
«He’s got cash-flow issues,» she dismissed. «Not everyone’s as lucky as you.»
«Lucky?» Emma burst out. «Oliver works two jobs! I freelance overnight! We budget every penny!»
«Oh, please,» Sophie rolled her eyes. «Yet he splurged on that Rolex.»
«Bought with my bonus,» Oliver cut in. «Actually, time for you to go.»
Sophie gaped. «Emma! You’ll let him speak to me like that?»
Emma hesitated—loyalty warring with years of exploitation.
«Ollie’s right,» she finally said. «We can’t fund your coat.»
«Brilliant!» Sophie hissed. «So family means nothing?»
«I’ve bailed you out countless times. Your wedding. Your car down payment. Last summer’s Ibiza trip—»
«Now you’re keeping score?» Sophie interrupted. «Mum was right. Oliver’s poisoned you against us!»
Oliver stepped forward, but Emma held him back.
«No one’s poisoned me, Sophie. I’m just exhausted. We’re saving for a home. A future. Why must we go without so you can upgrade your wardrobe?»
«Because that’s what family does!»
«Family helps in emergencies,» Emma countered. «Not shopping sprees. You’ve got a coat—you showed me last winter!»
Sophie’s retort died as her phone trilled. She produced the latest iPhone (worth three months of Emma’s earnings) and cooed:
«Yes, darling? At Emma’s. Leaving now. Of course we’ll buy it. Kisses!»
She pocketed it with a glare. «That was William. We’re off to Harrods—for the nursery. Since you’re so stingy!»
The slam of the door shook the walls.
Emma crumpled onto the hallway chair. Oliver knelt beside her.
«Did you see?» she trembled. «That phone costs more than our rent! Yet she ‘needs’ our money?»
«I saw,» Oliver said grimly. «We’re setting boundaries. Now.»
—
The next morning, Daniel rang.
«Ems! Cash emergency!» No greeting, just greed.
«What now?» Emma sighed.
«Melanie’s birthday! She adores Tiffany’s—can’t show up empty-handed!»
Melanie, Daniel’s gold-digging girlfriend, demanded luxury despite his unemployed state.
«Dan, what about flowers? Perfume?»
«Flowers? She’ll dump me! Last year was a Cartier bracelet—I can’t downgrade!»
Emma seethed. That bracelet? Her money. Meanwhile, she owned no such trinkets—practicality always won.
«Sorry. Can’t help.»
«Can’t or won’t?» Daniel sneered. «Or has Oliver locked the vault?»
«What’s Oliver got to do with—»
«Spare me! You earn too. Or did you blow it all on yourselves?»
Emma’s voice shook. «We decide our finances together.»
«Right. So Mr. Fancy GP’s turned you tight-fisted. You never refused before!»
«Daniel,» she steadied herself, «you still owe me for your ‘urgent’ loan. Six months ago. Promised repayment in four weeks.»
«Yeah, well, stuff happens. But this is for Melanie!»
«And what’s it for me?» Emma exploded. «Our future! Daniel, I’m not your ATM. You’ve got a degree—get a job!»
«ATM? Don’t be dramatic! Just help this once?»
«This once.» She’d heard that lie a hundred times. Never again.
«No.»
Silence. Then:
«Screw you! Who do you think you are? Counting pennies! Mum’s right—you’ve gotten too big for your boots with that doctor of yours!»
The line died. Emma sat clutching her phone, fury and heartbreak warring inside.
—
That evening, Oliver found Emma silent. Over dinner, she confessed Daniel’s call.
«Ollie… you were right. We need to confront this.»
Oliver set down his fork. «What changed?»
«Daniel called me an ATM. And it hit me—that’s all I am to them. Not a sister. A wallet.»
He took her hand. «What do you want to do?»
«Talk to Mum. Make it clear—no more handouts. Not for nonsense like this.»
«Sure? It’ll get ugly.»
Emma laughed bitterly. «It already is. And I feel… used. Years of giving, sacrificing. For what? More demands. More guilt.»
Oliver pulled her close. «I’m with you. But remember—you don’t owe happiness to people who exploit you.»
**Three Months LaterEmma placed tiny pink booties in the nursery drawer and smiled, knowing the love she’d give her daughter would never come with conditions.