**Diary Entry**
*”I wont be a servant to strangers, no matter their name.”*
*”Im not here to be anyones maid, no matter their surname.”*
That evening, after a gruelling shift at the pharmacy, I dragged myself into the lift, dreaming only of a hot shower, cosy pyjamas, and a quiet cup of tea. But before I could even change, my husband, James, called out. His voice, calm and without a hint of hesitation, announced:
*”Get ready, Emilyweve got guests tonight. My sister, Sophie, is staying for a few days!”*
A hollow pit formed in my stomach. It wasnt a request or a discussion, just a statementmy time no longer belonged to me. I was stunned. *Which* Sophie? Why hadnt anyone mentioned this? Ah, yeshis younger sister, whom Id never met, never even exchanged a message with. All I knew were a few vague storiesa country girl from near Manchester, still in sixth form, apparently sensible and hardworking, as farm girls tend to be. But hearing about someone is one thing; having them turn up unannounced in your home is another.
James, as if nothing were amiss, was already chatting with her in the kitchen when I arrived. Theyd made tea, and Sophie looked perfectly at ease, as though she owned the place. After dinner, she began exploring the flat with barely concealed curiositywandering into every room like it was a museum exhibit, lingering especially in our bedroom, which she clearly fancied. She even took a few selfies, rifled through my skincare, and tried on some of my jewellery. I stood frozen.
*”Sophie, Im sorry, but this is my personal space. You walked in without asking and touched my things. I dont appreciate that,”* I said, calm but firm.
She dropped her head, playing the innocent:
*”I didnt think youd mind I just wanted to see how you lived.”*
I didnt answer and went to shower. When I finally went to bed, I found every last teabag gonetheyd drunk them all. No tea, no peace, and worst of all, no consideration. Before turning in, James added:
*”Maybe think about what we could do with Sophie this weekend. Shell be bored on her own!”*
I swallowed a sigh. Why should I rearrange my plans for a girl Id just met? Id booked a shopping day, lunch, and a walk with my best friend, whom I hadnt seen in nearly a year. And now? Cancel everything for a teenager even her own mother hadnt bothered to bring?
The next morning, while I was still planning breakfast, Sophie was already made up, in sparkly jeans, phone in hand by the door.
*”So, are we going? I wanted to hit the shopping centre, maybe get lunch after?”*
I looked at her and replied evenly:
*”Listen, Sophie, youve got a phone with GPS. Heres a spare keygo wherever you like. But please, dont disrupt my day.”*
*”What?!”* She looked stunned. *”I thought you and James would come with me. Ive got no moneyMum didnt give me any, I was counting on you…”*
*”We can walk around without spending. And if youre hungry, you know where the fridge is.”*
Silence. She slouched into the kitchen, sulking. I grabbed my things and left for the shopping centrebecause I refused to feel like a stranger in my own home.
By evening, the whole family had descended. Too late, I realised it was a collective interrogation: why had I hurt poor Sophie? Why wouldnt I give her money? Why was I so selfish? No one let me speak. They all shouted. Sophie, in the next room, played the martyr, the victim of my supposed cruelty.
I let them finish, then said:
*”Im not a servant. I owe no one anything. Sophie means nothing to me. I didnt invite her. My wages barely cover me. If you care so much about your niece, sort her stay out amongst yourselves.”*
James stayed quiet. Only late that night, once everyone had gone, did he murmur:
*”Youre right I didnt want to fall out with them.”*
**Lesson learned:** Im not selfish. Im a woman who demands respect. And if anyone thinks *”family”* means free labour and servitude, they ought to look in the mirror and ask themselves if theyd tolerate their own life being invaded without permission.
