We Have Two Children, but We Only Love One of Them.

We have two children, but it feels as if only one is truly loved.

I always sensed that my parents favoured my sister, Pippa, over me. They drove the point home when they opened their home to her, her husband David, and their two little ones, and then told me I had to move out because your remote job means you can afford a flat of your own.

While Pippa was at university in Manchester, her parents trailed her like a schoolgirl, handling every errand at the deans office, stepping in when she had a lecture, and now looking after her kids. I never received a single favour, and now they are kicking me out.

Dad says that, being a man, I should be able to fend for myself, yet somehow David who is older than me isnt expected to support the family.

During the heated argument about the move, I foolishly claimed I had as much right to the house as Pippa and that I deserved a share too. Mom snapped that John and she still lived there, called me a pig for talking about splitting the property, and Pippa accused me of trying to throw her and her children out.

Legally there is nothing I can do; Im sure my parents could quickly draft a new will and disinherit me.

Can a family really fall apart over a flat? I am still their child, yet they treat me like a stranger. Why have two children at all, I wonder, when I now feel completely expendable?

The experience has taught me that love cannot be measured in property or favourit is shown through consistent respect and support, and those who neglect it often lose more than they ever thought they could give.