“You’ll Take On the Mortgage. It’s Your Duty to Help!” My Mum Said – “We Raised You and Bought You a…

Youll take on the mortgage. Youre obliged to help! my mother insisted. We raised you and bought you this flat.

Oh, you act like a stranger now My mother poured tea, bustling about the kitchen as she had for decadeskettle to cupboard, oven to table, everything in its place. You come here once a month, and even then, only for two hours.

Dad sat glued to the telly, volume turned down but not offfootballers darting across the screen, and though he pretended not to watch, he never missed a replay.

Mum, I work I cupped the mug between my hands, soaking in the warmth. Most nights, I leave the office near nine. By the time I get here and then back, its midnight.

Everyone works, darling. Family isnt to be forgotten.

Twilight was settling outside. Although only the light above the table was switched on, it cast deep shadows in the corners. On the table sat a cabbage pieMums way of showing affection whenever I visited.

The irony is, Ive hated cabbage since I was a child.

But I never had the heart to say so.

Its lovely, I lied, and sipped the tea.

She gave a pleased smile.

Then she sat down opposite, folding her hands on the tableher old signal that we were about to embark on one of her serious talks. That posture had delivered many proclamations: my first mortgage, boyfriends she didnt approve of, all the great negotiations of my life.

Your sister rang yesterday, she began.

How is she?

Tired The halls are noisy, shared rooms with strangers. Says its hard to study. She tries the library, but there arent always seats. Sometimes she just perches in the corridor

I nodded, sensing the direction.

Mum never tackled topics straight on; shed drizzle her way there, slow and steady, until the real request drenched you, drop by drop.

I feel so sorry for her she sighed. Shes working so hard, and with no comfortonly the basics. She needs her own place. Just a little studio. Somewhere peaceful. A place for proper sleep, proper studying. She cant go on like this.

My grip on the mug tightened.

What do you mean, a place?

Not a whole flat, heavens, just a small studio. There are affordable options. Three hundred thousand, give or take

I met her eye.

And how do you see this, practically speaking?

Mum glanced towards Dad. He coughed and turned the volume down again.

We went to the bank, she exhaled. Spoke to a few people Weve no chance. Too old, not enough income. No one would offer us a mortgage.

And then, as Id expected, she said, But youll be approvedgood salary, no missed payments in six years, spotless credit. A second mortgage would be no trouble for you. Well help as much as we can until your sister gets a job and pays her own way.

I felt something collapse inside me, like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Well help, she said.

Thats exactly what shed promised six years earlier. Same table, same light, same cabbage pie.

Mum Im barely managing as it is.

Oh, really. Youve got your own flat, a good job. What more do you want?

I have a flat but I dont have a life, I whispered. Six years of running on a hamster wheellate nights, sometimes weekends. I make just enough. At twenty-eight, I cant even go on a proper dateeither Im too exhausted, or I cant afford it. My friends are all married with kids. Im always alone. Worn out.

She looked at me as if I was being melodramatic.

There you go again, making a drama.

Mum, how can I take on a second mortgage? I cant even get ahead for myself.

She pursed her lips and started smoothing the tablecloth, as if the problem was in its creases.

We helped you, you know. Sold your grans cottage for your deposit. Weve done right by you.

And that was my breaking point.

Mum, that was my inheritance.

Her face changed.

What do you mean, your inheritance? Its the familys. We did it for you. We filled out the paperwork, rushed to banks!

But its my money you usedand for six years, youve been reminding me of your help.

Dad finally turned from the television.

His look was heavy.

So whatyoure keeping a tally now? Your parents dont matter anymore?

Im not keeping a tally Im just telling the truth.

He smacked the table, not loud, but enough to send a chill through me.

The truth is, we got you your flat, and now you wont help your own sister. Shes blood, in case youve forgotten.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to sound steady.

You didnt buy me a flat. The mortgages in my name. Grans cottage was my share. The first two years, yes, you pitched inten grand here and there. Then you stopped. Ive been paying for six years alone. And now, you want me to take on a SECOND mortgage.

Well pay! Honestly, thats all were asking. You just need to sign for it.

But what about me? Whenm I allowed to get back on my own feet?

Silence.

The television, too, went quietan advert. Dad turned back to the screen.

Mum regarded me like Id just confessed something shameful.

I should go, I said, grabbing my bag.

Oh, do stay a whilehave a proper chat

Im just so tired, Mum.

I left without looking back.

The pie sat untouched.

On the landing, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

My phone vibratedmy friend, Emma.

Whereve you vanished? Werent we supposed to meet up?

I was at my parents.

How did it go?

A pause.

Awful. They want me to take on another mortgagefor my sister.

What? You havent even finished paying the first!

My point exactly. The bank would give it to me, because Im reliable. Supposedly, theyd pay until my sisters working

Thats a trap, love. No good comes of ityoull be paying for theirs, too, until the end.

I clenched the phone.

I know

Emma told me of people she knewsame story, same promises, and in the end, they nearly lost their homes.

She finished, Youre allowed to say no. Its not selfishness. Its survival.

I sat on a bench outside the block. Just sitting, breathingten minutes of peace, nothing else.

Numbers tumbled through my head.

One mortgagehow much per month.

Nine years left.

If I took a second? Double that.

Id be left with barely enough for food.

Id be alive just to make payments.

Not to actually live.

Three days later, Mum showed up unannounced.

Early. Before work.

Ive brought you some cream slices, she said with a smile. Lets have a quiet word. No Dad.

I let her in.

Set the kettle on.

Left the pastries in their box.

She sat and started, I was up all night You must see this from our side. Your sisters still young. Not independent. And youre strong. Reliable.

I looked at her and spoke words Id never said before.

Mum Im not strong. I just dont have a choice.

She waved it aside.

You have everything. Flat. Secure job. Your sister has nothing.

I pulled out my notepad.

Flipped to the page where Id reckoned it all, down to the last penny.

Here. Wages. First mortgage. Utilities. Food. Travel. At the endalmost nothing. If I get ill, break downfinished.

Mum batted away the notepad like a bothersome fly.

Thats just numbers on paper. Life is different. You always find a way.

But thats the thingfinding a way is my life. Six years of no holidays, no new clothes, nothing. My friends go to Spain; I work bank holidays to build a buffer.

Her tone rose.

We promised wed pay!

So you said last time.

She bristled.

Youre having a go, are you?

No. Im just saying the truth.

She shot up from the chair.

We raised you! Sacrificed for your future! Bought you your home!

Im grateful, but I cant do any more. I just cant.

Her voice went cold.

Cant? Or wont?

For the first time, I looked her straight in the eye and held it.

I wont.

Silence.

Then, blotches of red appeared on her cheeks.

So thats it Your sisters a stranger. We mean nothing to you. Fine. Dont forget this.

She snatched her bag and stormed out.

The door slammed so hard the hallway mirror rattled.

I stood in the kitchen.

Pastries sat untouchedunneeded, like a prop in a play.

That evening, I messaged my sister:

Hey, can I visit Saturday? Is that okay?

She replied straight away:

Brilliant! Come!

So I went. I wanted to see for myself the misery Mum painted.

The hall of residence was typical.

Small. Yes.

Noisy. Sometimes.

But clean and tidy.

And my sistershe didnt look like a victim.

She hugged me, laughed.

You shouldve told me you were coming. Id have tidied up!

I looked aroundseveral beds, cupboards, a shared table. Her own photos on the wall, string lights overhead. She was making the best of it.

We chatted.

I asked, Did Mum talk to you about this flat?

She looked puzzled.

Yes I thought theyd sort it. I didnt realise they wanted you

They cant. They want me to get the loan.

Her face changed.

But youre still paying your own mortgage

Exactly.

How much is it?

I told her.

Her eyes widened.

I didnt know Mum never said it was so hard for you

And then she said something that set me free:

Im not insisting. Honestly. Im fine here. Got friends. Met a boy recently, actually. Lifes fun enough. If I need anything, Ill get a job and sort myself out.

I stared, not sure whether to laugh or cry.

All this time, Id been made to believe she was helpless.

But reallyshed just been a convenient excuse.

On the train home, I watched the fields blur by and, for the first time, didnt feel guilty.

My sister would manage.

She wasnt a child.

She wasnt powerless.

And me I didnt have to carry the weight of others decisions anymore.

I rang Mum.

I visited my sister.

Well? Did you see how she lives?!

Mum shes not suffering. Shes genuinely fine. She doesnt want me to take on a mortgage for her.

Mum huffed.

Shes just a child. What does she know? Pride stops her asking for help!

This time, I was firm:

Mum, I wont take out the mortgage.

Her voice turned icy.

So you dont trust your parents? We said wed pay!

You promised that last time too.

She snapped.

For goodness sake, stop going on about that!

Im not repeating myself. I just I dont want to ruin myself.

She started shouting:

That I was ungrateful.

A traitor.

That family never abandons family,

That one day Id be desperate and regret this.

Then she hung up.

Dad didnt answer his phone either.

Messages went unanswered.

And then there was silence.

I was alone.

I cried.

Yes.

A lot.

Not out of guilt, but out of sorrow

Because if someone says:

Youre either with us or against us,

Its not love.

Its control.

And in the darkness that night, I realised:

Sometimes, saying no isnt betrayal.

Sometimes no is the only way to save yourself.

Life is long.

And if I must live it

Ill live it by my own script,

Not the one my parents wrote for me.

Do you think a child owes their parents a lifelong debt, even if it destroys them?