Oh, What A Frustration!” I Nearly Yelled at My Sister-in-Law, but I Held Back. And Here She Comes Again with Her Suitcase for the Weekend…

“Oh, Im fed up!” I almost shouted at my sisterinlaw, but I held back. And there she is again, returning with her suitcase for the weekend
“Youre exhausting me!” I nearly yelled at my husbands sister. I clenched my teeth. And, in response, she showed up once more, suitcase in hand, ready for another weekend
My name is Élodie, Im thirtynine. Ive been married to Thibault for twelve years. We have a fairly solid family, our son is growing, everything seems fine. Yet theres a but that has been poisoning my life for years: his sister, Juliette.
Juliette is eight years older than Thibault. She has never married, has no children. She lives alone in the house opposite ours and in reality, she also lives with us. Im not exaggerating. She appears in our flat like a shadowquiet, persistent, day after day. Sometimes it feels as if Juliette has an endless stash of keys to our building.
At first I tried to be polite, even kind. After all, shes my husbands sister, family. I told myself she would drop by, chat, have a cup of tea, and then leave. But she came every evening. And on weekends. And during our holidays. Even when we had other guests. When I was ill, she was there.
Juliette knows no boundaries. She comments on everything: my cooking, how we raise our son, the way I dress. One moment Im too quiet, the next I laugh too loudly, my cake is too dry, the apartment messy. She doesnt ask; she demands. And I endure it because I hate conflict, because Thibault tells me, Élodie, make an effort, shes alone, were all she has.
I waited. Patience, however, has its limits.
Juliette works as an accountant for a private company. She finishes work before me and comes straight home. I arriveshes already settled on the couch, the TV on, the cat tucked under the bed, our son glued to his phone. She behaves as if the place were hers. Dinner waits for her, or I wait for her to vacate the bathroom. She eats with us, then recounts for hours her adventures with the tax office, nobody listening. Then she leaves. Occasionally she stays overnight, claiming she fears thunderstorms or that the heating at her place isnt working well.
When we planned a getaway, Juliette tagged along. It didnt matter that I dreamed of a romantic weekend. It didnt matter that Thibault had promised me a seaside escape for my birthday. Juliette was there, in our hotel room, under the same roof. Everything paid for by Thibault. Yet she earns a good salary, saves for hard days, as she says. Apparently, the hard day is mine.
Thibaults mother now calls me ungrateful. Juliette isnt a stranger; shes alone and needs us, she says. I understand she has no husband or children, but why should I sacrifice my own comfort?
One day I finally told Thibault:
Ive had enough. She crosses every line. Shes everywhere. Its unbearable!
He shrugged:
What do you expect me to do? Shes my sister
Recently it reached a breaking point. We went to the theater together. I had insisted on the night out. A friend was looking after our son. No sooner had we settled into our seats than the phone rang. Juliette.
Where are you? Why didnt you invite me? Are you trying to erase me from your life? she shouted over the line.
Two days later she returned, suitcase in tow, nightshirt on, her favorite series bookmarked. My weekend is free; Ive decided to spend it with you, she announced.
I was standing in the kitchen, hands clenched on the table edge. I swallowed my scream. I stayed silent. But something snapped inside me.
I dont know how to tell Thibault that I cant take it any longer. That I need a home without a third adult. Without constant advice. Without drama. Without Juliette.
And I fear that if nothing changes Ill have to leave, to find my breath again. Because even love cant survive when another life intrudes between you and your spousetoo noisy, too invasive, too foreign.
Today I realized one truth: happiness cannot be built on silence. Boundaries must be set, even with family, because no one should live imprisoned by forced generosity.