The House You Built is Perfect Timing! We’re Expecting Our Firstborn and Plan to Move in With You for Fresh Country Air,” My Husband’s Sister Announced, but I Quickly Set Her Straight.

The house you built is just in the nick of time! Were expecting our first little one and well move in with you for some fresh country air, my brotherinlaws sister announced, but I promptly put her in her place.

When James and I first laid eyes on the cottage, I felt it was destiny. A twostorey redbrick house with generous rooms, lofty ceilings and large sash windows overlooking a neat garden. It needed a cosmetic overhaul, but after we sold our flat in central London we still had enough pounds to cover the work.

Emily, can you imagine the life well have now? James said, hugging me at the front door of our new home. Countryside air, peace and quiet, room for future children.

I nodded, taking in the spacious sitting room with a cosy fireplace. Exactly what wed been dreaming ofno neighbours next door, no clatter overhead, just our own little world.

The next two months flew by in a blur of paint and plaster. James turned out to be surprisingly handyhe wallpapered, painted, even fitted new light fittings. I handled the décor, picking out furniture, curtains and everything that made the place feel like home. By the end of summer the cottage had been transformed beyond recognition.

Time for a housewarming! James declared, admiring our labour of love.

We invited friends and family. Our best mate Claire could not stop gasping as she inspected every nook.

Emily, this is a proper palace! she exclaimed. Youve got such luck!

Jamess mum, Margaret, was equally impressed. She toured the house several times, peeking into each room, before finally declaring, Well done, you two! This is what a proper home looks likenot those cramped city flats.

Jamess father, usually a man of few words, gave a heartfelt speech about the importance of having your own roof over your head. My parents were thrilled for us as well.

The evening was a delight: we grilled sausages in the garden, sipped rosé and laughed until our cheeks hurt. I felt genuinely happy; at last wed got what wed been chasing for so long.

A week after the housewarming, Margaret called, her voice oddly excited.

Emily dear, I told Sarah about your new home. Shes over the moon and says shell definitely come to see it.

SarahJamess younger sister, five years his junior, living in Bristol with her husband Markwas someone we spoke to only on holidays. We werent close, but there were no hard feelings.

Of course, shes welcome, I replied. Well be glad to show her around.

Sarah arrived two days later, not alone but with Mark and a noticeably swollen belly. She was pregnant!

Surprise! she chirped as she stepped out of the car. Youll soon be an aunt and an uncle!

James beamed; the siblings had always been tight. I, however, felt a flicker of unease, especially when I saw the mountain of suitcases theyd hauled in, as if they were planning a long stay.

Mark, a quiet but pleasant bloke who worked in sales and earned a decent salary, was the opposite of his wifeshe was loud, emotive and loved being the centre of attention.

Oh, what a house you have! Sarah gushed, wandering into the living room. Its so big! Meanwhile were stuck in a twobed flat with upstairs neighbours drilling away every night!

I gave them a tour and a homecooked dinner. Sarah constantly clutched her belly, moaning about nausea, while Mark ate in silence, occasionally passing her a bite.

Emily, where will we sleep? Sarah asked once the plates were cleared.

Where, exactly? I was puzzled. In a hotel, perhaps? Or youll head back home?

She laughed. Oh, dont be daft! Were not here for a night. The house you built is just in the nick of time! Well settle in for a while, fresh country air and all.

My stomach dropped. Stay? For how long? I kept my composure and decided to talk to James first.

You know what, I said calmly, youre welcome to use the spare bedroom.

The guest room was on the first floorsmall but cosy. I laid fresh sheets, handed over towels, and Sarah immediately started complaining about the mattress being too firm, the pillow too flat, and a draft sneaking in through the window.

The first day passed relatively peacefully, but the following morning proved a different story. Sarah rose at seven, blasted the television at full volume, then spent half an hour in a scorching shower that drained the hot water. She then descended to the kitchen, commandeering every pot and pan to make a baconandegg breakfast for herself, all while leafing through a parenting magazine.

Sorry, Emily, she said when I entered, Im on a pregnancy diet, need special food.

The kitchen looked like a war zone: the sink piled with dirty dishes, the stove splattered, crumbs and oil droplets on the floor. Sarah sat at the table shovelling her breakfast, unbothered.

Did you forget to wash the dishes? I asked gently.

Oh, the nausea got the better of me, she waved off. Ill do it later. The dishes stayed dirty, so I ended up doing them myself.

Mark spent the whole day in the lounge with his laptop, never lifting a cup or a plate. Sarah lounged on the sofa, then wandered about, leaving her belongings everywhere. By evening the cottage resembled a student flat after a weeks binge.

James arrived home exhausted, barely noticing the mess.

Hows it going? he asked, planting a kiss on my cheek.

Fine, I replied evenly.

Later, after dinner, I pulled James into the bedroom and voiced my worry.

James, it feels like theyre planning to stay for the whole pregnancymaybe even until the baby arrives. Thats another five months!

Emily, theyre just taking a short break. Theyll be on their way soon, he tried to reassure me.

But they didnt leave. A week turned into two, and Sarah started inviting her friends overMegan and Olivia, two noisy 25yearold ladies from nearby. They arrived on a Saturday, shrieking with delight, snapping selfies by the fireplace and staging an impromptu garden photoshoot.

Ladies, lets celebrate! Sarah announced, popping a bottle of prosecco. They set up a buffet on the sofa, cranked up the music, and the house turned into a miniature nightclub. I tried to hint that we had chores, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. The party lasted until the early hours, and the next morning the kitchen was a mess of empty glasses and red wine stains on the white tablecloth.

Sarah, maybe you should give a headsup when youre bringing guests? I suggested.

Oh, come on, Emily. We dont throw parties every day. Its not like were ruining a pregnancy, she brushed off.

Days turned into weeks. Sarah rearranged the livingroom furniture to suit herself, pilfered my perfume and makeup, and the house required constant tidying after her. She left dirty plates everywhere, never cleaned the bathtub after a soak, and scattered her things across every surface. Mark added to the chaossmoking on the balcony, leaving cigarette ends in the flower pots, watching football late into the night without bothering to lower the volume.

James saw my irritation but kept his peace.

Hang in there a bit longer, he said. Shes pregnant; its tough for her.

Its not tough for me! I snapped. Im cleaning up after grown adults! This is our home, not a B&B!

The final straw was my wedding dress. Sarah found it in the wardrobe and decided to try it on.

Emily, does it look good on me? she asked, stepping out in the dress, the fabric straining around her belly.

No, take it off this instant! I shrieked. Thats my wedding dress!

She waved it off. Just looking at how Ill look in white after the baby.

The dress was ruinedstitches split, a smear of foundation on the satin. It was the very gown Id worn on my wedding day, the one Id hoped to pass on to my future daughter.

I locked myself in the bedroom and wept for the rest of the evening. James tried to console me, but the grief wasnt just about a piece of cloth; it was about a cherished memory smashed by Sarahs carelessness.

The next morning I made a decision. No more tolerance. No more polite smiles while my home turned into a guesthouse.

When Sarah came down for breakfast, I was ready.

Sarah, we need to talk, I said firmly.

What about? she asked, buttering her toast.

Im talking about the fact that youve been living here for a month, that Im not a maid, and that you ruined my wedding dress.

She sighed. Emily, why are you making a drama out of a dress? Youll just buy a new one. Besides, it was poorly stitched anyway.

A new one? I felt my blood boil. That was my wedding dress! The only one!

She shrugged. Well, you wont wear it again, will you?

Thats not the point, I replied, voice steady. This house is not a hotel. I wont keep putting up with your mess and rudeness.

What mess? she demanded.

You scatter your things, never wash up, ruin my belongings. You and Mark act as if this is your home, forgetting that its OUR home, Jamess and mine.

Why are you shouting at me? Im pregnant! I need family support! she wailed.

Support is one thing, freeloading another, I shot back. If you want to stay, either behave like civilized guests or start paying for the rent, utilities and food.

What? Youre telling me to pay for staying in my brotherinlaws house? she screeched.

Im asking you to act like responsible adults, I said. James is my husband, so this house belongs to both of us. I wont let it become a hallway for anyones convenience.

At that moment James entered the kitchen, sensing the tension.

Whats happening? he asked.

My sisterinlaw is kicking me out of the house! Sarah wailed, tears streaming. She wants me to pay for staying!

James looked bewildered.

Emily, what does that mean?

It means Im done tolerating rudeness and sloppiness. Ive spent a month cleaning up after adults who behave like pigs in my home, I told him calmly.

Its my brothers house! Sarah shouted.

No, its our house, I retorted. We bought it together, renovated it together, furnished it together. I wont let anyone tear it down.

James tried to mediate. Ladies, lets not argue. Sarah, maybe you could actually help with the cleaning

James, are you really going to side with a stranger against your own sister? Sarah snapped.

Stranger? I repeated softly. James, Im your wife. A stranger?

James flushed, realizing the line had been crossed.

Emily, she didnt mean it like that he stammered.

What exactly did she mean? I asked, still calm. That she can do whatever she likes in our home, trash my things, turn the house into a sty, and be rude to me?

Im not being rude! Sarah protested.

You just called me an outsider in my own husbands house, I said. What do you call that?

James finally saw the picture: his sister was overstepping, and his wife was at her limit.

James, choose, I said, looking straight at him. Either your sister behaves like a decent guest, or she leaves. Theres no middle ground.

But shes pregnant

I know shes pregnant, but pregnancy isnt a free pass for bad manners. Millions of pregnant women manage perfectly without treating other peoples homes like a dump.

Sarah hiccuped, tears welling again. James, can you hear how shes speaking to me?

Im speaking to you as you deserve, I replied. Ive been patient for a month, cleaning after you like a child, staying silent while you ruined my things, and treating me like a pig. My patience is over.

James! Sarah wailed.

James paced between us, desperate for a compromise, but I was unmoving.

If you dont leave today, Ill pack my bags tomorrow and go back to my parents, I warned. Ill even question whether I want a husband who cant protect his wife from family overreach.

The words hit James like a cold splash of water. He knew I meant business.

Sarah, maybe its better if you go back home? he said quietly.

What? Youre kicking me out? she gasped.

Im not kicking you out. Im asking you to understand the situation. Emilys rightthis is our home, and we have the right to set the rules, James replied firmly.

I dont believe you! Sarah sobbed. How can you turn against your own sister?

I can, James said. Because Emily is my wife, and this house belongs to both of us. I wont let anyone ruin our marriage.

Realising shed lost, Sarah flung her chair back.

Fine! Well go! But Ill never forget this! she shouted, storming out. She and Mark spent the next halfhour hauling suitcases, slamming doors and shouting at each other, while Mark silently piled their belongings.

Before they left, Sarah paused in the sitting room where James and I were.

James, she said, eyes red, I hope youll ever realise what youve lost.

I already have, he answered calmly. I almost lost my wife because I couldnt set boundaries in time.

She glared at me. You ruined our family.

I protected mine, I replied. My family with you.

They drove away, and the cottage fell back into a quiet hush. I spent the whole day scrubbing away the remnants of their stay.

That evening James and I sat on the back porch, sipping tea and watching the garden glow in the twilight.

Emily, he said, Im sorry. I should have defended you from the start.

The important thing is youve learned, I replied. I love you, James, but I wont let anyonenot even relativestear down our home, our peace, our happiness.

He nodded. Family is sacred, but our family is you and me. Everything else is just extended.

We sat in contented silence, the house finally feeling like our own againquiet, cosy and full of love.

Margaret called later, trying to smooth things over with Sarah, but I stood firm. Sarah could visit, but only as a guest who behaved like one.

Six months later Sarah gave birth to a baby boy. James visited with presents, but she never returned to our cottage, and honestly, I was relieved.

Our home remained ourstranquil, snug, brimming with the happiness wed fought so hard to protect. James and I grew even closer after the whole episode; he finally understood that the real family is the one you build together, not merely the one youre born into.

And I learned that sometimes you have to be a bit stern to safeguard your joy. I have no regrets.