**Diary Entry 15th March**
*How could you leave my son hungry? Whats for lunch today?*
I flinched and turned sharply. Standing in the doorway was a familiar figureAlex, my husbands twelve-year-old nephew. The boy stared at me with a mix of demand and pitiful pleading. After a month, Id grown used to that look, to the same question every day.
Setting aside the jumper Id been folding, I forced a calm tone. Come on, lets see what there is. Alex trailed behind me into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and sighed. As usual, my sister-in-law, Sarah, had left nothing prepared for her son. I pulled out a container of soup Id made the night before for myself and Tom, reheated it in the microwave, and placed it in front of Alex. Beside it, I set out leftover mashed potatoes and a beef patty from yesterdays dinner.
Thanks, Aunt Emily, he muttered without looking up.
Leaving him to eat, I returned to the bedroom, mechanically folding laundry while my mind spun. How had it come to this? Two months ago, life had been entirely different.
I remembered the evening everything changed. Tom had come home unusually sombre, sat beside me on the sofa, and taken my hands.
Em, I need to ask a favour, he began carefully. Sarah and Marktheyve been kicked out of their flat. The landlord kept the deposit. Theyre in a tight spot. And weve got spacethree bedrooms, after all
*We* dont, I cut in sharply. Tom, Im not used to sharing my home. The flat may be big, but that doesnt mean theres room for them.
He sighed. But theyre family. Sarahs my sister, Alex is my nephew. Just a couple of monthsuntil they save enough to get their own place.
His pleading look wore me down. How could I say no?
Now, folding another pile of clothes, I realised my mistakeI shouldve stood my ground. The first week was fine. Sarah helped with cooking and cleaning. Mark was barely home. Alex did his schoolwork quietly.
Then Sarahs leave ended, and she went back to work.
Overnight, everything changed.
Sarah only cooked once a daydinnerand only enough for her own family. She didnt care that her son had nothing proper to eat during the day. Every afternoon, Alex would appear with the same question:
*Whats for lunch today?*
The words made my blood boil. I wanted to scream, to make a scene, to say this wasnt normal. But the boy wasnt to blamehis parents were.
That evening, I tried again with Tom, sitting beside him as he read.
Tom, we need to talk. Alex shouldnt be coming to me for food. Sarah only cooks for dinnerwhats he meant to eat all day?
Tom set his book aside, frowning. Whats the issue? Youre homeits no trouble to feed him.
It *is* trouble. My salary doesnt stretch to feeding someone elses child. And more than thathes not *my* responsibility. His parents should be caring for him!
Tom just shook his head. Em, were family. Sarah and Mark are swamped. Youre at homewhy not help?
Because its not helpits disrespect! Shes dumped her sons care on me!
Youre overreacting.
I gave up. He didnt see the problem. To him, it was naturalhis wife shouldering burdens for his family.
I didnt know how to fix it. Throwing them out wasnt an optionthey had nowhere else to go. But living like this was unbearable.
Then, a small miracle. At a café, my old university friend Lucy grinned.
Come stay at my cottage for a fortnight. Peace, quiet, decent Wi-Fi. A break from all this.
I nearly cried. Two weeks without *Whats for lunch today?* Without tension in my own home.
Perfect, I said. Tom wont mind.
The next morning, as I packed, Tom raised an eyebrow.
Going somewhere?
Lucys cottage. Two weeks. Shes just had a breakupneeds company.
He kissed me goodbye without protest.
By lunchtime, Lucy and I were breathing in the quiet countryside. Then my phone rangSarah.
Emily! she shrieked. How could you leave my son hungry? Hes home from schooltheres no food!
I kept my voice steady. Not my problem, Sarah. Youre his mother.
You *promised*!
No. You decided for me.
She explodedaccusations of selfishness, betrayal. I hung up. For the first time in months, I felt light.
The fortnight flew by. I returned refreshed, full of plans.
But home was a storm. Sarah sat rigid on the sofa, Tom awkward beside her.
Finally! she snapped. Do you know what these weeks have been like? My son lived on ready meals! You abandoned us!
I set down my bag. Who is Alex to me? Your son. Not mine. Im not obligated to feed him.
Were *family*!
Then act like it.
Silence.
From then on, I bought food only for myself and Tom. Alex watched me with those pitiful eyes, but I held firm.
On the third day, Sarah cracked. She woke early, cooked a proper meal.
Before leaving for work, she gritted out, Heat up the stew and potatoes for Alex at lunch.
I nodded. Was that so hard?
She stiffened but said nothing.
Peace returnedfragile, but peace. Soon, theyd save enough to leave. And Tom would learnnever take me for granted again.
