I’m Anna, 22 years old, and honestly, I hadn’t planned on moving back in with my parents. But here I was. The job hunt didn’t take long, thankfully. Within a week, I landed a position at Davidson Marketing with a pretty decent salary and promising performance bonuses.

That evening, over Mom’s meatloaf, I shared my good news. “I figure I’ll stay here for about three months, save up some money, and then get my own apartment.”

The clinking of forks against plates stopped abruptly. Mom and Dad exchanged one of their looks—the kind that always meant trouble.

“Moving out?” Mom set down her fork. “Anna, you know I can only work part-time at the library because of my back problems.”

“And things aren’t great at the plant,” Dad cleared his throat. “There have been rumors of layoffs.”

“We could really use your help with the bills,” Mom added softly. “And you wouldn’t have to pay rent here. It just makes more sense, doesn’t it?”

I stared at my half-eaten meatloaf, feeling trapped. They had a point, sort of. And they were my parents. “I guess I could stay longer,” I mumbled.

Life fell into a routine after that. I went to work, came home, paid the bills, and Mom made sure dinner was always on the table. It seemed okay, manageable even. Until last weekend, when my sister, Sarah, showed up with her husband, Mike, and their kids, Emma and Lucas. The change in my parents was like someone had flipped a switch.

“Oh, my precious angels!” Mom cooed, scooping up four-year-old Emma while Dad swung Lucas onto his shoulders. “Sarah, darling, you look wonderful!”

I stood in the doorway, watching as my parents fawned over their eldest daughter and her perfect little family, hanging on her every mundane word about her garden and her book club. They’d never shown that kind of interest in my life, not when I made the Dean’s List or won the business school’s leadership award.

“Anna, be a dear and put on some coffee,” Mom called over her shoulder, not even looking my way.

Standing in the kitchen, I couldn’t help but think back to how it had always been this way. Sarah, seven years my senior, was the star of the show; I was the supporting cast. My straight-A report cards were met with an absent “That’s nice, Anna,” while every dinner conversation revolved around her AP classes and college tours. When she got into Brighton University, they took out loans, tightened their belts, and sent her money so she could “focus on her studies.” I, on the other hand, learned early that if I wanted to go to college, I’d have to earn my own way. I got a full scholarship.

Now, Sarah’s monthly visits had their own routine. She and Mike would show up, and before I could even say hello, she’d be planning her weekend. “Anna, you’ll watch Emma and Lucas while we go shopping, right? Mike and I hardly get any alone time.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom would say if I tried to protest. “You know it’s hard for me to keep up with young children, and your father needs his rest.”

So, there I’d be, spending my Saturday watching Frozen for the hundredth time while Lucas tried to color on my bedroom walls. It was just one weekend a month. I told myself I could handle it.

The Invasion

Then came the phone call that turned my already complicated life completely upside down. Through sobs, Sarah explained that Mike’s company had gone bankrupt. They couldn’t afford their rent and had no savings. “Could we… could we maybe stay with you for a while?”

“Of course you can!” Mom exclaimed without a moment’s hesitation.

My stomach dropped. I cleared my throat. “If they’re moving in, maybe this would be a good time for me to get my own apartment.”

You’d think I’d suggested burning the house down. “Anna, don’t be ridiculous!” Mom looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “We’re family,” Dad said firmly. “We stick together during hard times.”

They arrived the following weekend. I spent Saturday morning moving my things into the tiny storage room while my old, larger room became the kids’ nursery, because “the children need space to play.” Emma and Lucas treated the house like their personal playground, running and screaming while Sarah watched TV at full volume. After a long day at work, all I wanted was peace. Instead, I got to listen to “Baby Shark” on repeat through the thin walls.

The first utility bill after they moved in hit me like a punch to the gut. The numbers had almost doubled. “I can’t keep covering all the bills by myself anymore,” I said at dinner that night. “It’s taking almost my entire salary.”

Sarah’s fork clattered against her plate. “Are you seriously complaining about money right now, when Mike and I have lost everything?”

“Sarah’s right, Anna,” Mom jumped in. “Family helps family. This isn’t the time to be counting pennies.”

I looked down at my plate, swallowing the words I really wanted to say. A week later, Mike got a job, but that only made things worse.

“It’s so hard being alone with the kids all day,” Sarah started complaining. Soon, small requests to watch the kids for an hour turned into me coming home from work to find her already dressed to go out.

“Oh, good, you’re home,” she’d say, grabbing her purse. “Mike and I are meeting friends for dinner. The kids will need their meal in an hour. We’ll be back by ten.”

Weekends became my personal nightmare. I’d spend my Saturdays cleaning up toys, making mac and cheese, and watching endless children’s movies while they lived their lives. By Sunday night, I was exhausted.

The Breaking Point

Then came the Wednesday that changed everything. My friend Rachel stopped by my desk at work. “Hey, want to do something fun this weekend? A bunch of us are going to the Pine Ridge Ski Resort.”

For the first time in months, I felt a spark of genuine excitement. Friday evening, I was in my tiny bedroom, happily packing my duffel bag when Sarah appeared in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing my bag.

“Packing for a ski trip,” I replied.

Her face darkened. “You need to cancel.”

I looked up, startled. “What? Why would I do that?”

“Because,” she said, crossing her arms, “Mike and I are going to Aunt Linda’s 60th birthday party this weekend. Mom and Dad are coming, too. You need to stay here with Emma and Lucas.”

I laughed. A real, out-loud laugh at the sheer audacity of it. “You’re joking, right? You can’t seriously expect me to cancel my plans because you didn’t bother to tell me about yours.”

“This isn’t funny, Anna!” her face turned red. “You’re being completely unreasonable!”

“No,” I shot back, “what’s unreasonable is assuming I’ll drop everything at a moment’s notice to be your personal babysitter. Again.”

She stormed out, shouting for our parents. A moment later, my tiny room was crowded with my entire family, their faces a mixture of disappointment and anger.

“What’s this about you going skiing?” Mom demanded.

“But you can’t,” Sarah exclaimed. “We have Aunt Linda’s party!”

“No,” I corrected her, turning to face them all. “You have Aunt Linda’s party. Why am I just hearing about this now? Why wasn’t I included?”

“We all discussed it and decided this would work best for everyone,” Sarah said, her voice dripping with condescension. “We go to the party, you watch the kids. It’s the most logical arrangement.”

“Well, you can’t exactly bring small children to a sophisticated party,” she sniffed. “Aunt Linda specifically said ‘no kids’.”

I shouldered my duffel bag. “Sounds like a you problem. They’re your kids, Sarah. Figure it out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mike finally spoke up.

“It means,” I said, feeling stronger than I had in years, “that I have plans. I’m going skiing. Your children are your responsibility, not mine. If you can’t bring them, either don’t go or hire a babysitter.”

“A babysitter?!” Sarah screeched. “With what money?!”

“Again,” I said calmly. “Not my problem.”