When my parents got old, they needed someone to take care of them.

Katerina—my younger sister—was off to Amiraka with her smug husband Chris. Meanwhile, I was crammed into a two-bedroom in Bellavaro with my husband Pavel, who drove a taxi.

Mom had no retirement savings, so guess who she dumped herself on? Yep—me. Dad took the cash and ran straight to Katerina.

Our place was tiny, but we still gave Mom the master bedroom. She hated it. Constant complaints, constant drama. According to her, life with me was pure misery.

Every night, she'd hop on video call with Katerina, gushing about Amiraka like it was heaven, while throwing shade at me for not "taking care of her properly."

Meanwhile, I was drowning—trying to hold it together for Mom, help my daughter prep for exams, support a husband with spine problems, and check in on aging in-laws.

Mom didn't care. She wanted a plane ticket to Amiraka to party for Katerina's birthday.

I snapped. We had a blowout fight, and she collapsed—brain hemorrhage.

Even in her hospital bed, she stared me down, whining Katerina's name like a broken record. Then she spat out, "I should've never picked a useless daughter like you!"

My chest cracked in half. I blacked out.

When I woke up—I was ten years younger. Back to the day they decided who'd get stuck taking care of them.

This time, Mom didn't wait.

"I want Katerina to take care of me. It's my turn to enjoy life!"

The second I heard her talk, I knew—Mom was back too.

She hated how the last round played out. Blamed me for not handing her some glamorous life, so this time she practically leapt at Katerina, who looked shinier on paper.

But she forgot something. It wasn't that she didn't pick Katerina last time—Katerina didn't want her.

Mom had been a housewife forever, and no one saved squat for her retirement. When I suggested we split the cost, Katerina shot it down.

"She's got two daughters," she'd said. "How could she possibly end up treated badly?"

Easy to say when you're married to some rich foreign guy. Money never touched her nerves.

But when it came down to it? Katerina wanted Dad. A quiet, harmless teacher beat our loud, scene-making mom any day.

Sure enough, Katerina hesitated for a split second, then slipped on that fake sweet voice.

"Mom, I WANT to take care of you, but those long flights? Way too hard on your body. Better to stay in Bellavaro with Anya! We'll totally visit when we can!"

Then she threw me under the bus. "Right, Anya? Mom can even help with the kid."

I said nothing. Just smiled on the inside.

Last time, she pulled the same stunt—promised to help, then spent her nights bingeing TV and giggling with Katerina on video calls. Slept all day. Zero childcare.

Pavel's mom was the one who actually stepped up.

One rainy day, she slipped and broke her leg. Pavel and I were both out of town for work. I begged Mom to pick up my daughter just once. Too far, too tiring, she said.

My kid sat at school until nightfall. A security guard ended up walking her home.

I kept my mouth shut. Mom glared.

"I'm in my fifties. I've earned some peace. She can handle her own kid—stop dumping it on others. It's settled. I'm going to Amiraka next month. Let your dad stay with Anya!"

***

Dad didn't care. He didn't even want to leave. New country, strangers, nothing familiar? Hard pass.

Last time, he wanted to fly home the minute he landed, but Katerina wouldn't let him.

She and Chris had three kids and handed them off like party favors. Dad basically became their live-in babysitter.

Good thing he was a retired teacher—herding kids was his default. But even he started wearing down fast.

Meanwhile, Mom acted like he was on vacation. Constant jabs about how he didn't appreciate anything.

"If I were in Amiraka with Katerina and Chris," she'd brag, "I'd be living like royalty."

She made sure to call during dinner, voice sugarcoated and loud, so I could hear every snide remark.

Always the same garbage—how I married a nobody while Katerina scored a "real catch."

When I didn't bite, Katerina finally dropped the act.

"Mom, you can come with us to Amiraka, but it's expensive. You don't have a pension, so... why not sell the apartments and come with us?"

We had two old apartments. Last time, they went for just over $500K.

Mom handed the money all to Dad for the big move, claiming she felt bad about how "expensive" life was for poor Katerina in Amiraka.

This time, I didn't wait.

"Fine, sell one. But the other stays. Dad still needs a place to live."

No way was I living under the same roof with my parents again. Not after what happened last time.

Before Katerina could open her mouth, Mom butted in.

"Why? Your dad should live with you. Isn't that what 'taking care' means?"

I swallowed the rage.

"Our place is tiny. He wouldn't be comfortable."

Mom scoffed. "Well, that's what you get for marrying a poor man. If you'd married like your sister, you'd be in a mansion by now!"

Felt like a slap.

Funny how fast your own parents look down on you once the money dries up.

Everything changed after we married different kinds of men. Katerina could drop cash on fancy imported fruit like it was no big deal. I bought some once for my kid, and Mom acted like I lit money on fire.

Katerina smiled. "Don't act so generous, Anya. Dad's got a pension—you're not paying for him. These two apartments should be my compensation anyway."

Mom jumped in fast. "Exactly. These apartments are OUR property. We can give them to whoever we want. Anya, your father and I aren't even dead yet, and you're already pushing him to take everything we built?"

Take what, exactly? What did she think Pavel was gonna snatch?

If anything, it was always Pavel slipping them money whenever we had a little extra.

I let out a dry laugh. "If you don't like it, take both of them with you. Take the apartments too. I don't care."

I stood up. Mom shouted after me, "What kind of attitude is that? Whether you get the apartments or not, we're still your parents. You OWE us!"

Pavel rushed in with a fruit plate, wiping his hands on his apron, trying to calm things down.

"Adrian, Milena, please don't be upset. I know Chris is doing well, but we'll manage on our end."

Watching him bend like that made my chest ache.

Last time, he even gave up our master bedroom. The three of us crammed into one tiny room, and he never said a word.

Eva didn't even have space for a desk—just hunched over the coffee table every day to do her homework.

Not again. I'm not letting them live like that again.

Mom didn't spare him a glance. Just snorted, "If you were good enough to go overseas, Adrian and I wouldn't have to live apart like this."

Pavel stood there, speechless.

Chris? He was sprawled on the couch, totally relaxed. Every now and then, he'd ask when Katerina was leaving—clearly waiting to hit the hotel spa or whatever.

The impatience was all over his face.

Mom kept shoving fruit at him. "Chris, eat more. You work so hard—always thinking."

He flicked the cherries aside and stood up. Katerina jumped in, all business. "Milena, if you're coming to Amiraka with me, you need at least $500K. Otherwise, I can't even help you get residency."

I stood too. "Dad, if you're moving in with me, don't come empty-handed. Bring one apartment."

Mom shot me a vicious glare, like she couldn't believe I'd finally stopped being a doormat.

She was locked in on running off with Katerina. In one sharp move, she bolted for the kitchen, grabbed a cleaver, and pressed it to her neck.

"Anya, if you don't sell both apartments, I'll die right here," she yelled. "I'll make sure everyone knows what an ungrateful daughter you are!"

Everyone froze.

Katerina shrieked, hand over her mouth. Chris swore, eyes blown wide.

Dad clutched his chest and sighed. "What is this? How did it get this far? Anya, you know your mom's temper. Just let her have her way."

Katerina chimed in, all shaky and sweet. "Anya, it's just an apartment. It was theirs to start with. Why are you pushing Mom so hard?"

I was shaking with anger. Mom looked smug, like she was flashing her ultimate card—'I'm still your mother.'

Then I felt warmth on the back of my hand.

Pavel had taken it.

He looked at me, steady. "Babe, forget the apartment. Don't fight your mom over this. I'll take care of your dad. He can stay with us."

Tears stung my eyes. I sniffled and nodded. "Fine. I'll give up the apartment. But I want it in writing—me and Katerina. From now on, she takes care of Mom, I take care of Dad. No backing out. No take-backs. Ever."

Before Katerina could say a word, Mom jumped in.

"Perfect! Without you dragging me down, I'll probably live to a hundred!"

Katerina stayed quiet. With that $500K carrot dangling, she wasn't about to push back.

I dropped my gaze, hiding the ice in my eyes.

I remembered that call from last time—Mom in the hospital, Katerina begging for money.

Turns out, Amiraka wasn't all glitz. It was screaming matches, cheating, and drama on loop.

Later, Katerina found out she was just one of many. Chris cut her off, and she crumbled—tried borrowing cash to fly home.

Before I could send anything, I woke up in the past.

Now? Mom's her problem. Let's see how long they last.

***

After the apartments sold, Mom strutted around bragging she was off to Amiraka to "live the good life" with Katerina.

Relatives and neighbors were green with envy. Everyone called her lucky—said she had such a "capable daughter."

As for me? Just a bunch of pity sighs. "Anya's always been the sensible one. Who would've thought the wild one, Katerina, would marry better."

I treated it like background noise and went ahead with renting the unit next door for Dad.

When Mom found out, she lost it—stormed around saying I was unfilial for not letting Dad live with me.

Truth was, Dad was thrilled. A whole place to himself. No nagging. No orders.

When it was time for them to leave, Dad and I went to the airport to see them off.

Mom showed up dressed like some airport socialite, eyes sparkling with dreams of Amiraka. Didn't even look my way.

Dad wiped his eyes. "Call us often. If we can, we'll visit."

Mom threw in a sharp smile. "Well, Anya better start making more money. Or we won't even afford the plane tickets."

Still clinging to that blame—like I was the reason she didn't get shipped to Katerina last time.

I lowered my head. Said nothing.

Let her go live that dream—for real this time.

Dad mumbled, awkward, "Anya's still a good girl. Rich or not, she's our daughter."

My throat tightened. Last time, once Dad went abroad, I never saw him again.

I never found out how it ended for him. Whether he regretted it the way Mom did.

He was kind, sure. But soft. Mom always ran the show.

Even when he wanted to back me up, he never had the guts.

At the gate, Katerina tugged Mom's arm. "Come on. We can always come back later."

Mom beamed, then turned to me. "Look at your sister. That's what money does—go wherever she wants."

Oh? Then why didn't she come back to visit you last time?

I forced a smile and waved. "Mom, I hope you REALLY do have a good life in Amiraka."