14/09/2025
"Your brother gets the apartment, your sister gets the car, and we entrust you with caring for our sick grandmother and paying all the bills. Congratulations," my mother, Elena, told me.
"Marcos gets the apartment, we're buying Sofía a car," my mother's voice flowed through the living room like warm oil, enveloping and numbing any attempt at resistance. She paused and looked at the three of us. Marcos immediately took refuge on the phone, while Sofía smiled a barely perceptible smile, catching my eye. That smile exuded the triumph of a personal victory.
"And to you, Clara, we entrust the most valuable thing: caring for our grandmother and all the household expenses. Congratulations."
The air in the room became thick and sticky. My mother's words not only resonated, but floated in the air like a final, unquestionable sentence. I slowly raised my gaze to her. She smiled that official smile she reserved for the most unpleasant moments.
A smile that said, "No objections, darling, everything has been decided for you."
"But the apartment... it belonged to Grandma," I murmured, my tongue numb.
Sofia gave a short laugh. "So what? Grandma doesn't need it anymore, and Marcos has to start a family. He won't be living on the streets with Julia."
"And the car?" My voice sounded strange, like something from a deep well.
"From the money from the sale of the country house," my sister said, looking at her freshly painted nails. "It was my parents' house; they decided to sell it. You never liked it. You were always running away from there."
She was right. I hated those vegetable gardens and the endless summer chores. But I remembered every summer spent there with Grandma. I remembered how we would pick fruit and how she would tell me stories from her youth. Now even those memories had become commodities.
“But we always thought the house belonged to everyone…” I whispered, knowing how pathetic that sounded.
“Exactly!” my mother interrupted, her voice turning warm, almost honeyed. “So we divided it up. Each according to their needs and abilities. Marcos needs a roof over his head. Sofía needs mobility. And you… you were always the most responsible.”
She said it as if she were awarding me a medal. A lead medal that instantly sank me. My whole life I had carried that label: Clara is responsible—therefore, Clara will do, finish, take care of, help.
I looked at my brother. Marcos didn’t look up from his phone, feverishly scrolling the screen. He always hid when it was time to decide or tell the truth.
“We decided this is fair,” my mother concluded, putting an end to it. Fair. They had taken everything material and placed the entire burden on my shoulders, calling it justice.
I stood up. My legs felt like cotton. "I have to go to Grandma's. She's due for treatment soon."
No one tried to stop me. I walked down the hallway and felt their eyes on my back. Relieved. Satisfied. They had executed the plan quickly and almost painlessly. For them.
In the entryway, I stopped in front of Grandma's photograph in an antique frame. She smiled at me from there, young and full of strength. They called it confidence. For me, it was a life sentence.
The first notice arrived two days later. "Sofia" appeared on the screen.
"Clara, hi. Look, it's just..." she began cheerfully, insistently. "I have to go to the garage to choose the paint for the car. Can't you lend me a few hundred euros? All my money was spent on paperwork."
I remained silent, my forehead resting against the cold window. She was asking me for money to paint the car she had bought with the sale of a part of my past.
— Sofía, every penny goes to Grandma's medicine these days. They're so expensive.
My sister was silent for a moment. — Oh, don't start. It's not forever, I'll pay you back. We're family, we have to help each other.
There was no trace of embarrassment in her voice. Only annoyance that I didn't give in right away.
— I can't, Sofía.
— Understood, she interrupted coldly and hung up.
An hour later, my mother called. She didn't waste any time on pleasantries.
— Clara, why did you deny your sister? She has so many worries now with the new car.
— Mom, I have worries too. I take care of someone who's sick and I pay bills.
— Don't exaggerate. We also help out in any way we can. I thought you'd be happy for your sister. But you're acting selfish.
She spoke to me as if I were a spoiled child who doesn't want to share a toy.
The real blow came on Saturday. I went to Grandma's apartment to prepare a meal and found them there: Marcos and Julia. They were walking around with a tape measure, discussing plans.
"Oh, Clara, hello," my brother didn't even flinch. "We're just considering which wall to knock down. Meet Julia."
Julia gave me an appraising look and smiled sweetly.
"This is... very vintage. But no matter what, we renovated everything in a Scandinavian style."
They were talking about renovating a flat where grandma still lived. A flat whose bills were paid by me.
— What are you doing here? — my voice is broken.
- Mom gave us permission, - he shrugged Marcos. — He said you didn't care. You don't live here.
I looked at his calm, contented face. I didn't see anything wrong. To him it was normal.
— Out. Now.
— You exaggerate, — he waved his hand in disdain. — We're moving soon anyway.
When the door closed behind them, I dropped myself on a chair. They weren't just sweeping my floor. They erased the grandmother from her own home, while she was still living.
That night I sat on the bills: the caregiver, the meds, the two-story expenses — mine and grandma’s. The sum was a disaster. Opened the bank application Just had to get to the next paycheck.
I tried to talk to my dad. It was my last hope.
— Dad, this is not fair. I can't do it alone.
He sighed heavily, not looking away from the newspaper.
— My daughter, understand your mother. He wants the best for everyone. Marcos is an heir, he needs a home. Sofia is a girl, she needs support. And you are strong, you will make it through.
He said it with pride. A pride that hurt me more than my mother's selfishness. I had been appointed strong and with that they had stayed calm.
I realized that talking is useless. They had created a reality in which everything was “fair.” And in that reality, it was my turn to be the beast of burden.
The End Point arrived on Wednesday. I was in my personal hell for a week. The bank rang about the late payment. The caretaker warned that the medications were running out. In my apartment the electrical installation had burned down and there was no light. Worked nights slept four hours.
My mother called at noon, with a cheerful voice, practice.
— Clara, I have great news. We've solved the money problem for you.
I got frozen. Really?
- We found grandma a public residence. Very decent, I've been informed. And the best thing: it’s almost free.
I kept quiet. Every word fell to me like a slab.
— Do you notice the savings? — she growled. - You won't have to pay more to the nanny, or the flat... Saturday we move her in. You just have to pick up your stuff.
Talked like he was sending her to a spa.
— Have you decided without me? — I whispered.
— Of course. We've seen how much it costs you. We wanted to help you, set you free. You complained to your father yourself. Well look, you've got the solution.
It wasn't a solution. It was an exile. They got rid of the last problem: the grandmother herself. So Marcos could retire peacefully.
— I disagree.
"Clara, don't be silly," my mother's voice hardened. — The matter is resolved. Your father has already given his consent as immediate family member.
And then something broke in me. Like a rope that for years had held me in the role of "responsible daughter, the right one"...
Continued in the comments 👇👇👇
