Oh, for God’s sake, stop pretending you’re some heroine and acting like you have it all under control, said Olivia, setting a bag of nappies and a tub of baby porridge on the table. I’ve seen your posts, all glossy and perfect. If only you knew the real truth.
Imogen didn’t glance at her sister. She stared at her phone, stonefaced, as if the screen were a window into another world. From the next room came the shrill cries of her twoyearold son, Tommy, demanding attention. Imogen didn’t flinch.
Tommy, I’m coming! shouted a voice from the master bedroom, their mother, as she hurried to rock the little boy.
Olivia slipped off her coat, draped it over the back of a chair, and turned to Imogen, her irritation too sharp to let her retreat.
Tell me honestly. Do you really think youre coping, that youre a great mum? Or are you just parroting the slogans from those mumblogs?
Imogen sighed, paused, but never met Olivia’s eyes.
Listen, I never asked you to buy anything.
Right. Never asked. As always, you sit there hungry, wrapped in dirty nappies while Mum serves soup and buys diapers. Then you pretend to be the strong woman.
Both fell silent. Even Tommy’s wails faded behind the wall. Only the soft lull of their mother’s voice remained. Olivia closed her eyes for a heartbeat.
They were all exhausted after those oneandahalf years.
Imogen had left Derek when Tommy was barely six months old. She walked out in a blaze of scandal, berating him for not even washing a plate or changing a nappy. Derek, her ex, could only shrug. He juggled two jobs, came home late, so weary he sometimes fell asleep in his chair. Yet he tried: washing bottles, lugging bags, even crooning lullabiesthough terribly offkey.
He betrayed us, Imogen had said then. He chose his work over us.
Olivia shrugged silently; everyone has the right to decide for themselves.
Except when that right means leeching off someone elses shoulders while refusing to ask for maintenance. Imogen now lived as if on a holiday resort. Dad paid the bills, Mum cooked, and she proudly posted about inner strength and female independence.
The mother entered the room, two grey crescents shadowing her eyes.
Tommys finally asleep, thank heavens. Olivia, why are you picking on Imogen again?
Me? Picking? Olivia was ready to laugh. All you ever do is neglect his backside, and she doesnt even hear a thing. Shes content.
Im not asking for anything, mind you. No one owes anyone anything! Imogen snapped.
Of course you owe nothing. You just live here and enjoy the comforts.
A memory flickered: two months earlier, Dad had postponed fitting a crown once more.
Itll be fine, hed said to Mum with a grin. We need to clothe Tommy, else hell outgrow his old ones.
Dad never complained. Never. Only later did the family discover he wasnt taking his crucial medication because he couldnt afford it. Olivia quietly wired him the money, hoping it would go toward his pills.
Imogen sprang up, slipped past Olivia, fleeing the conversation as usual.
Olivia dont be like that Imogen
Whats Imogens problem? Shes comfortable. Her pride will kill you all. Money issues arent solved with hollow words. Youve had a stroke, Dads heart is weak. And she pretends shes the heroine of some melodrama: solitary, proud, misunderstood.
Mum looked at her daughter with a painful stare. Everyone understood, yet could do nothing.
Olivia walked to the door, halted, wanting to say something warm, something that wouldnt make Mum weep after she left.
Take care, Mum. Check the firstaid kit and talk to Dad. Ill bring the tablets tomorrow, if they run out.
Ol thank you, Mum whispered, gratitude weighed down.
Olivia left without looking back, knowing shed see tears later.
A week passed. Olivia visited less often, not out of spite but to avoid witnessing the familys decay. She came to drop off cash, medicine, a toy for Tommy, then hurried away. Imogen accepted everything with a neutral façade, as if that were how life ought to be.
One morning, scrolling through contacts, Olivia stumbled on a name long forgotten: Keith. Hed once worked with Derek. Hope prickled her chest. It felt like a sign.
Three days later they met in a tiny café. Olivia fidgeted with a napkin. Derek arrived seven minutes late, apologized, and sat opposite her. Hed lost some weight, which made him look more tired than handsome.
You see, he began after Olivias long story. Im not abandoning my son. I tried to fix things. Even when I send money, she sends it back and throws a fit.
They wont last long, Olivia sighed. Dad halves his pills. Mum refused the rehab. And Imogen she clings to absurd principles. No ones at fault for her quirks.
Derek nodded, his eyes showing he was ready to find a solution.
Heres a plan. Ill transfer money to you, youll allocate it. Send receipts or photosthank you, no need for formalities. I just want Tommy to have a normal life and my parents not to suffer because of this mess.
Olivia wasnt sure it was right. It felt like betrayal, but her sister wasnt a saint either.
Two days later the first transfer arrived: £120. Olivia promptly gave the cash to Mum, who was surprised only by the amount, not the fact that her daughter had helped before.
Another smaller transfer followedfor Dads medication, then for Tommys shoes.
Imogen pretended not to notice, or at least acted as if she didnt.
One evening Olivia dropped by for half an hour. Imogen was in the bathroom, Tommy watched cartoons, Mum kneaded dumplings, Dad helped her.
Olivia, we bought Tommy a new coat with your money! Mum beamed. Youre such a star. Were getting used to not relying on you maybe well manage on our own soon?
Olivia felt a pang. Shed accepted unearned praise before, each time it pressed on her conscience. Now the whole chain of aid threatened to snap.
Mum I need to tell you and Dad something. It isnt me, its Derek. Hes helping, she whispered.
Silence fell. Dad stopped rolling dough. Mum froze, spoon in hand.
Derek? she asked. Imogen told us hed vanished.
Right. He said hes cutting off her phone because she ignores him everywhere, Olivia sighed. She hasnt said everything. Anyway, truth always lies somewhere in the middle. The main thing is help.
Parents took the news calmly, almost indifferently. They kept accepting the money without a shadow of guilt.
But a new problem rose.
Thanks to Derek, its a little easier, Mum murmured to Dad while they discussed next months budget.
Mum didnt know Olivia was still up late, listening with sharp ears.
Then it all unraveled
So youve been taking money from my ex behind my back?! Imogen burst into the kitchen. Traitors! Youre all in on this!
A fullblown interrogation followed. Mum cracked under the pressure, then Imogen began calling Olivia in the dead of night.
You think youre clever, solving everything quietly? Youve humiliated me! My child doesnt need your charity! she screamed.
What are you on about, Imogen? Olivia replied sleepily, yawning. Im just doing what you lackstrength and conscience. Stop blaming the sick for the healthy.
Get lost! Imogen roared. I dont need anyones help! Ill survive on my own!
The argument halted. Imogen packed her things, shoved Tommy into the stroller, slammed the door, and fled into the night without saying where she was headed.
A phrase a friend, Lila, had whispered six months earlier spun in her mind: If you need anything, call me. It had seemed a cute line then, now it was the only thread she could cling to.
Lila didnt refuse. She welcomed Tommy, warmed a dinner, and gently probed about the chaos.
Everythings fine. Its just suffocating here, Imogen muttered. I need some space. Ill stay with you for a night, then Ill figure it out.
The first night passed quietly. Lila even enjoyed the company; it broke the monotony. But by morning, the cracks appeared. Imogen left dishes in the sink, complained about the food being too salty or too greasy.
The next day she rummaged a cupboard for a sealed jar of coffee, untouched, a stash for present days. That evening she begged for more money.
Ive spent the last bit on nappies. Could you lend a little? Please until I get back on my feet.
Lila forced a tight smile, promised to think about it. Later, as Tommy slept, Lila approached Imogen, saying they needed to talk.
Listen Ive got a visitor, Arthur from Kent. Wed arranged this ages ago. You understand
You want me to leave? Imogen asked, panic tightening her throat.
Not that it just happened. Do you have somewhere else to go?
Yeah, Ill manage.
The next morning Imogen packed in silence, tears barely held back. Lila moved about the kitchen, never crossing paths with her. Imogen dressed Tommy, slipped on his boots, lingered in the hallway, unsure what to say, then left without a goodbye.
Standing at the door, she felt a hollow emptiness she hadnt known in yearsblank, shameful, terrifying. Options swirled like knives in her mind. Returning to her parents? No. Their pills and retreats could spin forever. With Lila, things were clear.
And then she remembered Derek. Hed been pleading to rekindle, though shed ignored him. Of all the possible saviors, only he remained, so she dialed his number.
Hello?
Its me Imogen. Tommy and I could we stay with you for a few days?
A surprised pause.
Of course, Dereks voice was cautious, yet warm.
The call ended, and an odd, tentative life beganawkward, trustless, but at least moving forward.
Olivia was the first to learn of their reunion. Her parents tried to call Imogen, got no answer. On the third day they gave up; on the fourth Olivia finally rang.
Hello?
Yes, Imogen answered, voice flat like a deflated balloon.
Where are you? Whats happened?
Were at Dereks. Ill call later.
Dereks? Is Tommy alright?
Yes. Alls well.
Olivia raised an eyebrow, surprised. A faint smile tugged at her lips; better this than being a burden on her parents throats. She could only hope that the bitter pride that had driven Imogen toward Derek wouldnt tear them apart again.
