**Diary Entry Not His Problem**
“Tell Oliver to come right away!” my daughter sobbed down the phone. “All three children are feverish and fussing. I cant manage them alone at the clinic. He needs to drive us!”
I nodded, though Emily couldnt see it. My chest tightened with worry for the little ones.
“Ill sort it, love. Dont panic,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. After hanging up, my fingers trembled as I scrolled for my sons number. Three sick kids, Emily alone, her husband at workthis was an emergency.
Oliver would help. I was sure of it.
One ring. Two. Finally, he answered.
“Mum, hi,” he said briskly.
“Olly, love, its urgent” I chose my words carefully. “Emily just rang. The children are ill; they need a doctor. Her husband cant leave work. Could you take them? It wont take long.”
Silence. Only his steady breath and muffled chatter in the background.
“Mum, I cant today,” he sighed. “Its Sophies birthday. We booked the restaurant weeks ago. Driving across London in this traffic? Well lose our table. Sorry.”
My grip tightened on the phone. Was he really refusing?
“Oliver, listen! Your nieces and nephew are sick! Emily cant handle three poorly toddlers alonethey need a doctor!”
“I get that,” he said flatly. “But weve got plans. She can call a cab. Or you and Dad help. Whats the issue?”
I sank onto a chair, legs weak. This couldnt be real.
“Dads at work! I cant manage three ill children by myself! Have you lost all sense?”
“Not my problem, Mum,” he cut in sharply. “Emilys kids, her responsibility.”
I choked on fury. “How dare you?! Shes your sister! Your family!”
“Got to go.” The line went dead.
I redialled. Nothing. Again. Still nothing.
My hands shook. I called Sophie instead. Maybe shed talk sense into him.
“Valerie?” she answered, cool as ever.
“Sophie, darling,” I kept my voice steady. “Please, ask Oliver to help. His niece and nephewstheyre poorly! Emilys struggling!”
A sigh. “Valerie, parents handle their own children. Theres taxis. The NHS. Emilys a grown woman.”
I froze. Her indifference burned worse than Olivers refusal.
“You think hauling three feverish toddlers in a cab is easy? She cant do it alone!”
“Her choice to have three,” Sophie said lightly. “Weve had this evening planned forever. We wont ruin it over someone elses drama.”
Rage boiled over. “Then dont come crying when you need help with your own kids one day!” I slammed the phone down.
The next days blurred. Oliver didnt call. I didnt either. The hurt festered. Nights were worstlying awake, replaying that conversation. Where had I gone wrong raising him?
My husband tried to talk about it, but I brushed him off. I needed to understand myself.
By the fourth evening, I snapped. I drove to Olivers flat, unannounced.
Sophie opened the door, eyebrows raised, but stepped aside without a word. I stormed in, still in my coat.
“Wheres Oliver?”
“Bedroom.”
I flung the door open. He looked up, something flickering in his eyes before his face went blank.
“Mum? Whats wrong?”
“How could you?” My voice cracked. “Abandoning sick children? Your own sister? I didnt raise you to be this selfish!”
Oliver stood slowly. “You couldve called a taxi. Gone yourself. Im not dropping everything whenever Emily snaps her fingers.”
A pause. His stare was icy.
“Or have you forgotten how she cut us off? The rubbish shes spread since we bought this flat? Six months of silence, and now she needs a favour?”
I faltered. “Shes struggling with three kids in a rented place while youve got your own flat, no children”
“Not her business,” he snapped. “We worked for this. No handouts. And her problems? Hers to solve. Not mine.”
I stepped closer, fists clenched. “Shes your sister! Family!”
“No, Mum. Sophies my family. Emily chose to have three kidsher responsibility. I wont bail her out.”
“You selfish boy! Shes drowning!”
“Helping?” He laughed humourlessly. “Why would I help someone who hasnt spoken to me in half a year? You didnt even notice we werent talking, did you? Too busy fussing over Emily.”
My throat closed.
“Thats not”
“Face it. You only care about her.” His voice dropped. “Ive always been an afterthought.”
I turned away, trembling. “Youre heartless.”
The door slammed behind me. Outside, cold air stung my face. Each step to the bus stop hammered the same question: Where had I failed? Why couldnt he see family mattered?
But deepera gnawing doubt. What if he was right? Had I ignored his side? Favoured Emily?
The bus rattled over potholes. I shut my eyes. Maybe tomorrow, Id find the words. Maybe wed mend this.
Or maybe the damage was done.
**Lesson learned:** Love isnt a ledger of debts. Sometimes, the tightest bonds fray when we assume theyll hold without tending. And by the time we notice, its too late to stitch them back the same way.
