**Diary Entry**
«Your family isnt our problem,» my husband said flatly as he packed his suitcase.
«Lily, did you send them money *again*?» James stood in the bedroom doorway, a bank slip crumpled in his hand, his face tight with frustration.
«Mum needed medicine, and her pension barely covers anything,» Lily replied softly, her attention fixed on ironing his white shirt. The steam hissed, but her hands trembled slightly.
«How much longer is this going to go on? Every month, its somethingmedicine for your mum, your sisters roof repairs, your nephews tuition!» He flung the slip onto the dresser. «Were barely making ends meet, and youre supporting half your family!»
Lily set the iron down and turned to him, tears glistening but her voice steady. «James, shes my *mother*. She raised me alone after Dad left. Worked two jobs so I could finish university. Am I really not allowed to help her now?»
«Helping is one thing, but *this*» He jabbed a finger at the slip. «This is too much. Three hundred quid in a month! We couldve put that toward a proper holiday, not another weekend at your sisters cramped flat.»
Lily hung the shirt silently. Three years of marriage, and the same argument every time. At first, hed been kindeven chipped in occasionally. But something had shifted.
She remembered last year, when Mum needed surgery. The NHS waitlist was six months; private care cost ten grand. Lily sold her gold jewellerysaved since before marriageand took out a loan. James only found out later. «You didnt even *ask* me!» hed shouted. «Am I not your husband? Or does my opinion mean nothing?»
«She couldve *died*,» was all shed managed.
«Your family isnt our problem,» hed said then, too, packing a bag. «If youd rather live for them, go ahead.»
Hed left for a weekreturned only when shed nearly given up hope. Apologised, said he understood, but begged her not to make big spends without him.
«*Lily.* Are you even listening?» Jamess voice snapped her back.
«I am.» She nodded. «What do you want from me?»
«I want you to realise: *were* the family now. Not you and your mum and sister and their never-ending crises. I have dreams tooa better car, a house in the Cotswolds. But it all vanishes into your relatives pockets.»
She sank onto the bed, hands folded. James was handsome, successfula manager at a top firm. When theyd met, hed seemed like a prince: roses, Michelin-starred dates, vows to cherish her *exactly* as she was.
«You used to say family was sacred,» she whispered.
«I meant *ours*. Not» He waved a hand. «*This* circus.»
Her phone buzzedSister Emma. «Hello?» she answered cautiously, eyeing James.
«Lily, its awful,» Emma sobbed. «Jacks crashed his car. Hes fine, but its totalledand hed just got it on finance! Now hes talking about joining the Army, says hes a failure»
«Godis he *sure* hes alright?»
«Just bruises. But hes devastated. Lily, could you you know. Just a bit to cover the payments?»
She felt Jamess stare burn into her. «Lets talk tomorrow, Em.»
She hung up, turned slowly. James stood arms crossed, face grim.
«Dont you *dare*,» he said, icy.
«Hes like a son to me, James. I held him as a baby when Emma was at work»
«I dont care. Im *done*. Every week, its someones disasterdentist bills, boiler repairs, uni fees. When do *we* get to live?»
She walked to the window. Children laughed in the courtyard below. Once, life had been that simplebefore Mums arthritis, before Emmas divorce, before everything fractured.
«Remember our first visit to Mums?» she asked quietly. «She cooked all dayroast beef, Yorkshire puddings. You said her mashed potatoes were the best youd ever had.»
«Lily, dont deflect.»
«Im not. Im remembering. She was so happy Id found a good man. Said, He looks at you like youre *everything*. And when we left, she gave you that jar of her strawberry jamthe one you loved.»
«That was years ago,» he muttered.
«*Three* years. Is that so long?»
He studied the wall, avoiding her gaze. «Whats changed, James?»
«*I* have. I see now were being used. Your mum, Emmathey know youll never say no.»
«*Used?*» Her voice cracked. «Mum worked herself to death for me. When I had pneumonia at uni, she took unpaid leave, slept in that hospital chair for *weeks*. Is that *using* me?»
James said nothing. She picked up the bank slip.
«Three hundred quid,» she said. «Mums ECGNHS wait was a month, and her hearts failing *now*. Private cost fifty. Then her pillsanother hundred. The rest went to Emma when little Sophie was ill, and she lost a weeks wages.»
«Enough,» he sighed. «It always circles back to me being the villain. But maybe I just want a normal life? One where we come *first*?»
«And dont we?»
«No!» His voice rose. «Every weekend at your mums. Every holiday with your cousins. Half my salarygone. When do *we* matter?»
She stared at her hands. It was true. But how could she abandon them?
«I cant leave Mum,» she whispered. «Shes alone. Ill. Who else does she have?»
«You have a *husband*. Or you *did*.»
The words landed like a verdict. James yanked shirts from the wardrobe, stuffed them into his suitcase.
«Youre leaving?»
«Thinking about it. Im tired of being an afterthought.»
«James, there has to be a middle ground»
«What? You help them *every other* crisis? We see them *half* the weekends? Thats not compromiseits surrender.»
«Then what do you want?»
«A life. *Our* life. Kids. A home. Not just bankrolling your relatives.»
«Theyre my *family*.»
«Not mine.» He zipped the case. «Your family isnt our problem.»
She watched from the window as his car disappeared. The flat felt hollow.
Her phone lit upEmma: *»Any news? Jacks a wreck. Maybe well pop by tomorrow?»*
Then Mum: *»Darling, youve been quiet. Miss you.»*
Lily dialled, voice thick. «Hi, Mum. Howre you feeling?»
**Lesson:** Love shouldnt force you to choose. But sometimes, it doesand no answer leaves you whole.
