«Your family isnt our problem,» snapped her husband as he packed his suitcase.
«Lily, did you send them money *again*?» James stood in the bedroom doorway, a bank receipt crumpled in his hand, his expression tight with frustration.
«Mum needed her prescription, and her pension barely covers anything,» Lily replied softly, not looking up from ironing his white shirt. The steam hissed, but her hands trembled just slightly.
«How much longer is this going to go on? Every month, its somethingmedicine for your mum, repairs for your sisters flat, tuition for your nephew!» James flung the receipt onto the dresser. «Were barely scraping by ourselves, and youre bankrolling half your family!»
Lily set the iron down, turning to face him. Tears pricked her eyes, but she kept her voice steady.
«James, shes my *mum*. She raised me alone after Dad left. Worked two jobs so I could go to uni. How can I *not* help her now?»
«Helping is one thingbut *this*?» He jabbed a finger at the receipt. «This is too much. Five hundred quid in a month! We couldve put that toward a proper holiday instead of spending every weekend at your relatives place in Kent!»
Lily silently hung the shirt in the wardrobe. Three years of marriage, and the same argument kept circling. At first, hed been kind about her familyeven chipped in sometimes. But something had shifted.
She remembered last year, when her mum had been hospitalised. The doctors said she needed surgerysix months wait on the NHS or £10,000 private. Lily had sold her old gold jewellery, the bits shed saved before marrying, and took out a loan. When James found out, hed exploded.
«You didnt even *ask* me!» hed shouted. «Am I not your husband? Or does my opinion mean nothing?»
«She couldve *died*,» was all Lily could say.
«Your family isnt our problem,» hed said then, just like now, yanking open a drawer.
This time, hed left for a weekstayed with his parents in Bristol. Came back when shed nearly given up hope, apologised, said he understood her mum meant everythingbut begged her not to make big spends without talking first.
«Lily, are you even listening?» Jamess voice snapped her back.
«I am,» she murmured. «What do you want from me?»
«I want you to realise*were* the family now. Husband and wife. Not you, your mum, your sister, and a parade of relatives. *I* have plans too. A new car. A house outside London. But all our money vanishes into the void.»
Lily sank onto the bed, hands clasped. James was handsome, successfula manager at a big firm, good salary. When theyd met, hed seemed like Prince Charmingroses, fancy restaurants, sweet words. Most of all, hed *understood* her ties, her sense of duty.
«You used to say family was sacred,» she whispered.
«I meant *ours*. Not» He waved a hand. «*Them*.»
Her phone buzzedher sister, Emma.
«Hello?» Lily answered, eyeing James.
«Li, its bad,» Emmas voice wobbled. «Jacks crashed the car. Hes *fine*, thank God, but the cars totalled. Only just got it on finance, too. Now no car, still the debt»
«Oh, nois he *really* okay?» Lily went pale.
«Shaken up, bruises. But hes gutted. Talking about joining the Army, says hes a failure.»
«Em, breathe. Well sort it. Hes alivethats what matters.»
«Li could you?» Emma hesitated. «Just a bit to cover some payments? Please?»
Lily felt Jamess stare burning into her. She turned toward the window.
«Lets talk tomorrow, yeah? Im a bit tied up.»
«Course. Sorry to call late. Hes just *so* upset.»
Hanging up, Lily turned back. James stood arms crossed, jaw set.
«Dont you *dare*,» he said, icy calm.
«James, hes my *nephew*. I held him as a baby when Emma was at work»
«I dont care. Im *done*. Every week, its someonedentist bills, roof repairs, uni fees. When do *we* get to live?»
Lily walked to the window. Kids played below, laughter floating up. Once, shed been that carefreebefore her mums arthritis, before Emmas divorce left her struggling with two kids.
«Remember our first visit to Mums?» she asked quietly. «She cooked all dayroast, potatoes, apple crumble. You said her gravy was the best.»
«Lily, dont change the subject.»
«Im not. Just remembering. She was so happy Id found you. Said, *He looks at you like you hung the moon.* And she slipped her homemade jam in my bagthe strawberry one you loved.»
«That was years ago.»
«Three. Is that so long?»
She turned. He wouldnt meet her eyes.
«What changed, James? Why are you so different?»
«Im not. I just see it nowwere being used. Your mum, your sisterthey know youll never say no.»
«*Used*?» Her chest tightened. «Mum raised me alone for twenty years. Worked herself to the bone. When I had pneumonia at uni, she took unpaid leave to sit by my bed. Is that *using* me?»
«Lily»
«And Emma? When her husband walked out, who helped with the kids? Who lent money when she couldnt pay rent? Was that *using* me too?»
James said nothing.
She picked up the receipt.
«Five hundred quid,» she said softly. «Mums heart scanthree-month NHS wait, so we went private. Two hundred. Her medsanother hundred. Emmas groceriestwo hundred, since shes on sick leave with the youngest.»
«Enough,» James sighed. «It always comes back to me being the villain. But maybe I just want a normal life? Where *we* matter?»
«Dont we *have* one?»
«No!» His voice rose. «Every weekend at your mums. Every holiday in Kent. Half my salary gone. When do *we* get to be happy?»
Lily sat heavily. It was truethey *were* always with her family. The money *did* drain away. But how could she turn her back?
«I cant abandon her,» she whispered. «Shes alone. Ill. Who else does she have?»
«You have a *husband*. Or you *did*.»
The words hung like a sentence. James pulled shirts from the wardrobe, stuffing them into a suitcase.
«Youre leaving?»
«Thinking about it. Im tired of being an extra in my own marriage.»
«James, theres got to be a compromise»
He stopped. «*What* compromise? You help them *less*? See them *half* as much? Thats not compromiseits a band-aid.»
«Then what do you want?»
«A *life*. Were young. We couldve had kids, a home, dreams. Instead, were funding everyone elses.»
«*Everyone else*?» Her voice cracked. «Theyre my *family*, James.»
«Not mine. Your family isnt our problem.»
Lily turned back to the window, hollowed out. She loved himbut couldnt betray the people whod always been there. And he couldnt understand that.
«Mum asked when were visiting,» she said dully. «She misses you. Said shes grateful youve never stopped me helping. Thinks youre a good man.»
James paused briefly, then zipped the suitcase.
«Good men are rare,» Lily continued. «She always said family means standing together. Maybe shes wrong. Maybe times have changed.»
«They have,» he said flatly. «And so have people.»
He lifted the suitcase.
«Where are you going?»
«To my parents. To think. You should too. About what *really* matters.»
«James, wait»
«Whats left to say? You wont change. I wont. We want different things.»
At the door, he stopped.
«If you ever decide *were* your familycall me.»
The door shut. The car engine growled, then faded. Silence.
Lily picked up her phone. A text from Emma: *Li, hows things? Jacks still shaken. Maybe pop by tomorrow?*
She didnt reply. Went to the kitchen, filled the kettle. Outside, dusk settled. The flat felt too quiet.
Her mum, waiting for a visit. Emma, drowning. Jack, lost. James, who only wanted *them*.
The kettle whistled. Tea steamed. Another textMum this time: *Lily love, youve been quiet. Miss you.*
Lily dialled.
«Hi, Mum. «Hi, Mum.» The familiar voice on the line softened her. «I miss you too. Ill come down Saturday, okay? And Ill bring James. Well have that roast you love.» She paused, then added, quieter, «I need to tell you something. About us. But not tonight. Tonight, lets just talk.» She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, staring out at the darkening sky, the city lights flickering on one by one. Her heart ached, but for the first time, she felt sure. Some bonds didnt breakthey just changed shape.
