**Diary Entry 12th November**
“Youre in the way,” my sister said, and then she stopped answering my calls.
“Youre in the way,” Emily spoke sharply into the phone, and Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. “We want to live our own livesdo you understand?”
“Em, but I” Sarah began, but Emily cut her off.
“Dont call me ‘Em.’ Im forty-five. Ive got my own family, my own things to deal with. And you? Youre always on the phone, complaining, asking for one thing after another.”
“But were sisters!” Sarahs voice trembled. “Weve always helped each other.”
“Helped?” Emily scoffed. “Who helped whom, I wonder? Where were you when David and I were having problems? When Jake ended up in hospital, did you even visit?”
Sarah gripped the phone tighter, a lump forming in her throat.
“I was working thenyou know that. And I had my own”
“You, you, you!” Emily snapped. “Its always something with you. Your blood pressure, your nerves, the neighbours bothering you. But when others have problems, youre too busy.”
Sarah sank onto the old sofa and shut her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Emily, why are you being like this? Were family.”
“We are. But family doesnt mean I have to listen to your complaints every day. Ive got enough on my plate.”
“Fine, I know I can be… clingy sometimes. But right now, Im really struggling. After the divorce”
“Enough!” Emily interrupted. “You divorced a year ago, and youre still going on about it. Dont you have anything else to talk about? Just your misery?”
Something inside Sarah shattered. Forty-two years theyd been more than sisterstheyd been best friends. Emily was three years younger but always seemed stronger. Sarah had run to her with every problem since they were girls.
“Emily, please, dont be angry. Ill call lessjust dont shut me out.”
“Dont call less. Dont call at all,” Emily said coldly. “I need space. We all do.”
“What do you mean, ‘we all’?”
“Davids tired of your calls too. The kids are complainingAunt Sarahs always crying down the phone.”
That hurt the most. Jake and Lily, the niece and nephew she adored, the ones she spoiled with birthday cakes and Christmas presents.
“The kids said that?”
“Yes. Jake asked me yesterday, ‘Mum, whys Aunt Sarah always sad?'”
Sarah bit her lip. She had cried during callsbut wasnt that what family was for? Couldnt she be weak with the one person who mattered?
“I never meant to upset them.”
“But you did. All of us. Were exhausted, Sarah. Exhausted by your depression, your endless problems, your refusal to pull yourself together.”
“Im trying! I started a new job, Im seeing a therapist”
“And you tell me about it every day. How hard work is, how expensive therapy is, how lonely you are at night. Ive heard enough.”
Silence hung between them. In the background, Sarah could hear laughter, musiclife moving on without her while she sat alone in her one-bed flat, fighting back sobs.
“Alright,” she whispered. “I get it.”
“What do you get?”
“That Im in your way. That Im a terrible sister. That youre sick of me.”
“Sarah, dont make it a drama. We just need space.”
“How much space? A week? A month? A year?”
Emily hesitated.
“I dont know. Until you learn to handle your own problems.”
“And if I never do? If I always need my family?”
“Then find that support somewhere else. Friends, maybe.”
Friends. The irony. After the divorce, her friends had vanishedturns out theyd been more attached to the couple than to her. Making new friends in your forties wasnt easy.
“I dont have friends, Emily. Just you.”
“Then make some. Or see your therapist moreyoure paying them, arent you?”
Anger twisted inside her. Did her sister really not understand?
“A therapist isnt family.”
“And family isnt your personal crying towel.”
Sarah hung up, hands shaking. Shed never ended a call with Emily first.
The phone rang immediatelyEmilys number flashing on the screen. Sarah stared, unable to answer. When the ringing stopped, a text came through: *”Dont take it to heart. Im being honest. You need to stand on your own feet.”*
Sarah deleted it without replying.
The evening dragged. Normally, shed call Emily, chat about her day, discuss TV shows, weekend plans. Now, silence pressed in. She tried reading, but words blurred. TV offered no distraction. She went to bed early but lay awake, tossing between hurt and shame.
By morning, her eyes were swollen. At work, colleagues asked if she was alright; she blamed a bad nights sleep. At lunch, she nearly dialled Emilyshe wanted to vent about her bosss impossible task, a rude clientbut stopped herself.
On the bus home, she watched strangers bustling past, each with their own lives. What did she have? An empty flat, a silent TV, and the crushing thought that no one needed her.
She cooked dinner, trying to distract herself, but soon realised she was making a meal for one. No one to share it with, no one to say, *”This tastes lovely.”* Tears threatened again.
The phone stayed silent. Emily didnt call.
The next day, Sarah tried ringing. Long, endless tones, then voicemail. *”Hi, this is Emily. Leave a message.”* She hung up. Maybe Emily was busy. She tried again at lunch, then in the evening. Still no answer.
By nightfall, it was clearEmily was ignoring her.
She texted: *”Emily, lets talk. I dont want to fight.”* No reply.
The next day, she called from workmaybe Emily wouldnt recognise the number. But the moment Sarah said *”Hello?”* the line went dead. Emily had hung up.
It stung. Badly.
She tried David nextmaybe he could explain, help mend things. No answer.
A week passed. Then another. Sarah checked her phone daily, hoping for a missed call, a message. Nothing.
She threw herself into self-improvementsigned up for French classes, joined a gym, bought new clothes. But the small victories felt hollow. Who cared if she learned ten new words, lost half a stone, or got a work bonus? There was no one to share them with.
Sarah realised Emily hadnt just been her sistershed been her whole world. Without her, life felt empty.
Maybe Emily was right. Maybe she *had* been too dependent. But was it wrong to lean on family?
A month later, she bumped into Lily at the shops. Her niece, now fourteen, had shot up.
“Aunt Sarah!” Lily beamed. “Why havent you visited? Mum said you two argued.”
Sarahs chest tightened.
“What exactly did she say?”
Lily hesitated. “That you were really upset about Uncle Mark. That you needed time.”
So that was Emilys versionthat Sarah had chosen this distance.
“Lily, do you miss me?”
“Of course! Youre the best aunt. And I miss your pancakes.”
Tears welled up.
“I miss you too. And Jake.”
“Ill tell Mum I saw youmaybe shell call?”
“No, sweetheart. Shell reach out when shes ready.”
Lily nodded, though she clearly didnt understand. “Well, if youre sad, call me. Ive got my own phone now.”
Sarah saved the numberone fragile thread to Emilys family.
After that, she resolved to prove she could manage alone. She made small effortschatting to Mrs. Thompson next door, once just a nosy old woman, now a lonely widow. At work, she joined colleagues for drinks, made friends in other departments.
Life slowly improved. But Emilys absence still ached.
Two months after the fight, Sarah took the final step. She went to Emilys house, standing outside, watching the lit windows. Inside, Emilys family was togethereating, laughing, living. While she stood on the pavement like a stranger.
She buzzed the intercom.
“Yes?” Davids voice.
“Its Sarah. Can I come up?”
A pause.
“Sarah, nows not”
“Please. Just five minutes.”
Another pause. Muffled voices.
“Fine. But make it quick.”
Sarah climbed the familiar stairs, heart pounding. How many times had she run up them with cakes, presents, just for a visit?
David opened the door, avoiding her eyes.
“Come in.”
Emily sat on the sofa, arms folded. Her expression was unreadable.
“What do you want?”
“To talk. To fix this.”
“I thought we had.”
Sarah sat opposite her. David lingered by the door, uneasy.
“Emily, you were right. I relied on you too much. Complained too much, asked too much.”
Emilys posture softened slightly.
“And now?”
“Now Ive changed. Ive got friends, hobbies. Im handling things myself.”
“Thats good,” Emily nodded. “Im glad.”
“But I still miss you. Not as a crutchas my sister.”
Emily looked down.
“Sarah, I miss you too. But Im scared well fall back into old habits.”
“We wont. I promise. No daily calls, no dumping my problems. Just uslike before.”
Emily was silent, weighing it up.
“And if you start crying down the phone again?”
“Then you can tell me. And Ill understand.”
Emily sighed, putting the cushion aside.
“Alright. Well try.”
The weight lifted from Sarahs shoulders.
“Thank you, Em.”
“Just not ‘Em,'” Emily said sternlybut there was a flicker of a smile.
They huggedtight, real. And Sarah understood then: family isnt just about leaning on each other. Its also about knowing when to step back.
Sometimes, you nearly lose the person closest to you before you learn how to love them right.
