The furious voice erupted from behind the apartment door, echoing through the entire stairwell with raw frustration. “What’s wrong with you now?! How much more of this can I take?! I’ve had it up to here!”
At that instant, Emily and Oliver were climbing the stairs. They halted abruptly, as though hitting an unseen barrier. Their gazes met briefly, conveying volumes in silence. No words were needed; both understood immediately that retreating was the wiser choice. Letting out simultaneous breaths, they pivoted and quietly made their way away from the building. Returning home that evening was clearly not in the cards.
Who would want to spend the night listening to endless parental arguments? Certainly not these two! The siblings strode purposefully toward the adjacent building where their grandmother, Eleanor Bennett, lived. In recent times, her flat had become their sanctuary. What once were weekend visits had turned into almost nightly refuge.
The atmosphere in their parents’ home had long since become unbearable. Their mother and father, oblivious to everything else, hurled accusations at each other without pause. Worst of all, they increasingly tried to drag the children into their battles.
One moment, the mother would spin toward her daughter, demanding, “Tell me, am I right? You agree with me, don’t you?”
The next, the father would turn to his son without waiting, “No, I’m the one who’s right here! Back me up!”
Emily and Oliver remained silent. They had no desire to pick sides or become entangled in the perpetual conflict. All they craved was peace, quiet, and warmth the very things they discovered at their grandmother’s.
Such scenes played out day after day, like a broken record that no one dared to stop. The children had learned to read the subtle cues: the rising tone of voice, the sharp gestures, the way their parents exchanged glances all signals that it was time to escape. What child would enjoy living in constant tension, where any conversation could erupt into a shouting match at any moment?
The siblings couldn’t fathom what had triggered this family catastrophe. Their household had never been perfect like those in advertisements, but previously their parents knew how to compromise. Arguments happened, of course, but they ended in calm discussions rather than screams. Mum might frown, Dad might raise his voice slightly, but within half an hour, everything was resolved. Everyone would gather at the table again, sipping tea and planning weekend activities.
Then, about two years ago, everything shifted… It was as if someone had secretly swapped their old parents for new ones who found reasons to argue over the most trivial matters. A dirty mug left on the table? Fuel for a lengthy lecture on carelessness and disrespect. A shirt hung on the wrong hook? Cause for sarcastic comments about household order. A teaspoon forgotten in the sink? Almost a crime warranting a drawn-out interrogation!
One evening, Emily sat in her grandmother’s kitchen, absentmindedly stirring her tea. She stared at the swirling amber liquid in the cup for a long while before asking with a note of bitterness, “How did it come to this, Grandma? Everything changed after their holiday together. What happened there?”
Eleanor paused, setting her cup on the saucer and gently touching Emily’s hand. She herself only had suspicions about the family rift, and those suspicions brought her no joy.
“The adults will sort it out themselves,” she replied softly, infusing her voice with confidence. “Sometimes people need time to figure out the best way forward.”
Emily nodded, but doubt lingered in her eyes. She sensed her grandmother was holding something back, yet she didn’t press. What was the point? As long as they saw her as a child, they wouldn’t share anything serious.
“We can’t take these shouts anymore!” Oliver exclaimed in despair. “We can’t even do homework properly or read a book in peace! I don’t even remember the last time we all sat down together as a family. If being together is so hard for them, they should just get divorced it would be easier for everyone!”
The words spilled out on their own, but they held the truth of the past months. Oliver spoke for both; he knew his sister felt the same. Silence had long abandoned their home: either Mum would snap sharply or Dad would respond with irritation, and another argument would ignite with nowhere to hide…
“Oliver…” Eleanor faltered. She set aside her knitting, looked intently at her grandson, and slowly shook her head. “Have you thought about what happens if they divorce? You’ll have to be divided. Are you ready to live apart from Emily?”
“We’ll live with you!” Emily declared at once, her eyes pleading as she gazed at her grandmother. “We already spend almost all our time here! You don’t mind, do you?”
Eleanor froze. She understood her grandchildren’s feelings saw how difficult it was for them, how exhausted they were from the endless parental disputes. On one hand, the children would indeed be safe with her in a calm, welcoming environment where they could do homework without yelling, read books in quiet, and feel protected. She loved them dearly and was ready to surround them with care.
On the other hand, what about their parents? How to explain that the children no longer wanted to live at home? Would they agree to such an arrangement? And if they did how would it affect their relationships with the children? Might this lead to a complete breakdown in relations with the parents?
“Let’s not rush into anything,” the woman said with a deep sigh. “I’m always happy to have you here, you know that. But let’s try talking to your mum and dad first. Maybe together we can find a way to fix things.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll talk to them ourselves,” Emily stated confidently, smiling happily. Grandma was nearly on board, and that was what mattered most! “Just please don’t refuse us! We really can’t stay there anymore! It would be better for them separately otherwise, one day they might actually hurt each other! I saw Dad raise his hand at Mum yesterday… He didn’t hit her, honestly! But he was right on the edge.”
Emily fell silent, recalling that terrifying moment. She had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water and frozen in the doorway: her father stood half-turned toward her mother, his arm suddenly jerking upward, while her mother instinctively ducked. A second later, he lowered his hand, but that second stretched into eternity for Emily.
“Grandma, agree!” Oliver supported his sister. He stepped closer, taking her hand as if afraid she might refuse. “We’ll help you around the house with everything. Just don’t send us back there. They don’t pay any attention to us at all! Yesterday I went to Dad and told him about the parent-teacher meeting. You know what he said? ‘Go ask your mum!’ So I did. Guess what Mum said?”
“Go ask your dad?” Eleanor asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
“Exactly!” Oliver gave a bitter laugh. “And then they argued for another two hours about who should go to the meeting. They sat in different rooms and yelled at each other across the hallway. I just stood there listening.”
“I asked them to sign a permission slip for a school trip to the museum,” Emily added, lowering her eyes. Her fingers nervously twisted the edge of her sleeve. “And now I’m the only one in class who won’t go. Neither of them signed it. Instead, they started arguing again Mum shouted that it’s Dad’s responsibility, and Dad insisted that Mum should handle school matters.”
Eleanor looked at her grandchildren and saw how tired they were. In their eyes was not the tiredness of children but one accumulated over months, where every day mirrored the last, where instead of family warmth there were constant arguments, instead of support there was indifference.
“It’s always like this,” Oliver sighed, shoulders slumping. His voice sounded weary, as if he’d repeated this hundreds of times. “Any request from us turns into a reason for a new fight. We don’t even want to come home. A couple of days ago we got back at eleven at night and did they scold us? No! They just sent us to bed without even asking where we’d been. But later they accused each other of bad parenting for ages.”
The teenagers sighed in unison once more. In recent months, they had seriously considered that their parents’ divorce was the only way out. But they feared the prospect of being separated from each other, which would inevitably follow a divorce. One would stay with Mum, the other with Dad, and their usual closeness would become occasional weekend meetings.
They weighed options, discussing them in whispers in the evenings when alone in their room. Once, Oliver jokingly suggested running away from home just grabbing backpacks and heading wherever. He said it with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, but Emily took the idea seriously. Her eyes lit up for a second, then she whispered: “What if we really left? Even for a couple of days…” In that moment, both realized the family situation had become so unbearable that even the thought of running away didn’t seem entirely mad.
Then it hit them: Grandma! Why not move in with her? The idea occurred to both simultaneously, as if thinking in harmony. Emily voiced it first: “Let’s ask Grandma if we can live with her? She definitely won’t yell or argue. And we won’t have to listen to these endless fights…” Oliver immediately added: “Yes! She’s kind, always supports us. And her flat is big there’s plenty of room for us.”
They began imagining a new life: peaceful breakfasts, the chance to do homework in silence, evenings playing board games with Grandma. No shouting, no accusations, no need to hide in their room to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. For the first time in a long while, hope flickered in their hearts. Let the parents sort things out between themselves; they would finally find peace that’s what Emily and Oliver thought as they pictured living with their grandmother…
“Mum, Dad, we need to have a serious talk,” the twins said firmly, standing before their parents. They had waited until evening when both were home and entered the living room decisively. Emily gripped Oliver’s hand tightly it helped her maintain confidence. “But first, promise to hear us out completely before sharing your opinions.”
Michael set down his phone and looked up in surprise. Sarah, who had been folding laundry on the sofa, straightened abruptly. Her expression suggested the children had said something utterly unthinkable.
“This is all your doing!” she snorted, crossing her arms. “The children are already setting conditions for us! As if we have to report to them!”
“And who are you to talk!” the man flared up instantly, putting his phone aside. “I’m always at work, trying to provide for the family. You’ve been with them all the time! And what have you taught them? Why are they giving orders now?”
The twins exchanged glances. They had expected something like this the conversation veering into the usual mutual accusations. But they couldn’t back down.
“Enough!” Emily cried out, almost in tears. She took a step forward, trying to speak clearly and calmly, though everything inside her trembled. “Oliver and I have thought about it and decided that you need to get divorced.”
The room fell instantly silent. Sarah froze with her mouth agape, while Michael slowly rose from the sofa.
“Now that’s news!” her mother’s voice took on a threatening tone. “Emily, you’re still too young to tell adults how to live! And what else have you ‘decided’? Maybe you’ll divide the flat for us too?”
“If you don’t get divorced, we’ll go to social services,” Oliver said, squeezing his sister’s hand as if drawing strength from it. His voice was firm, though deep down he wasn’t entirely sure he meant it. “And then, Dad, you might lose your job. Your company doesn’t like scandals, right? You said yourself that reputation is everything.”
“And you, Mum,” Emily continued, looking her mother straight in the eye, “the neighbours will stop respecting you. They won’t even talk to you! Everyone knows how you shout at each other, and we’ll add details!”
“They’re threatening us! Just look at them!” Sarah finally burst out, shifting her gaze from one child to the other. “These are our children! How can you do this to us?”
“We’re not threatening,” Oliver said quietly but confidently. “We just want you to understand: living like this is impossible. We’re exhausted! Tired of the shouting, of you not hearing us, of even simple requests turning into arguments.”
“You’ll get divorced, move out, and we’ll live with Grandma,” the children finished in unison, as if rehearsed in advance. “It’ll be better for everyone: peace for us, no constant conflicts for you. We don’t want to be caught between you two like in a crossfire anymore.”
The parents froze. For the first time in a long while, they had no response. Usually in such talks they would immediately start arguing, interrupting each other, pointing fingers but now both seemed struck dumb.
Their thirteen-year-old children were acting completely unexpectedly! Emily and Oliver stood side by side, holding hands, looking at their parents with determination, without their usual shyness. And they were speaking about such serious matters that the adults themselves tried to avoid thinking about.
The couple had themselves considered divorce more than once. But they were always stopped by the same question who would the children stay with? Separating the twins seemed unthinkable they were incredibly close, did everything together, supported each other. The parents couldn’t imagine tearing one away from the other, forcing them to live in different homes, seeing each other only on weekends.
The option of staying with Grandma hadn’t occurred to them before. For some reason, the thought had never crossed their minds perhaps because both were too absorbed in their grievances and mutual complaints. But now, hearing the children’s proposal, Michael and Sarah couldn’t help but wonder: what if this was the solution? Grandma loved her grandchildren, had a spacious flat, was always glad to see them… Maybe this really would resolve at least part of the problems?
“I’ll call Mum,” Michael finally said through gritted teeth. His voice sounded muffled, as if the words came with difficulty. “If she agrees…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Sarah sharply interrupted him, and in her voice was such fatigue that it surprised even herself:
“Then we’ll finally stop tormenting each other. Call her. I’ll be happy not to see your face every day.”
Her words hung in the air. She hadn’t wanted to be so harsh, but after years of accumulated resentments and disappointments, the words escaped on their own.
“And I’ll be glad too!” Michael replied, trying to mask with irony the pain her words caused.
There was no anger in his tone only a bitter smile at what their family life had become. He pulled out his phone and slowly dialled his mother’s number. As the rings sounded, both spouses looked in different directions, avoiding each other’s eyes. They didn’t yet know where this conversation would lead, but they understood: the point of no return might already have been crossed…
That day, the Bennett family made a fateful decision. It all began with a long conversation between Michael and his mother. Eleanor listened attentively, not interrupting, only occasionally asking clarifying questions.
When Michael finally laid everything out, a pause followed. Grandma took a deep breath and said:
“If you both understand that this will be better for the children, I agree. They’ll be safe here, I’ll take care of them.”
By evening, the spouses met in the kitchen for the first time in a long while without shouting or mutual reproaches. They sat across from each other and began discussing details. Gradually, step by step, they agreed on one thing: divorce was the only reasonable way out. The children would move to Grandma’s, and the parents would transfer funds to her monthly for their upkeep.
Yet no one intended to abandon the children to their fate. Both father and mother solemnly promised to visit on weekends but on different days, to minimise contact between themselves.
“I’ll come on Saturday mornings to take them for a walk, and you on Sunday,” the man said wearily, to which his still-wife nodded in agreement. “That’ll be simpler. The main thing is that the children don’t feel abandoned.”
Their main goal was to minimise communication and thus avoid new conflicts. They agreed not to discuss each other in front of the children, not to try to win them over, not to sort out issues in their presence.
“We’re still their parents,” Michael said. “And we should remain so, even if we’re no longer spouses.”
And as time showed, the decision was ideal. The children could finally relax and start living like ordinary teenagers. Emily joined an art club she’d long dreamed of it, but previously there hadn’t been time due to constant worries. Oliver started playing football, made new friends on the team. They began spending time together again: walking around the city, going to the cinema, discussing school matters without fear that another scandal would erupt at any moment.
Stability returned to their studies as well. Now they had a quiet place to work, no one distracted them with shouts and arguments. Homework was done calmly, without nerves, and this immediately reflected in their grades. Teachers noticed the changes: “You’ve become so attentive, kids! Keep it up!”
Gradually, life settled into a new rhythm not perfect, but calm and predictable. The children no longer hid in their room, no longer flinched at loud voices, no longer worried about every step. They simply lived as teenagers should, who had the luck to find support in the most difficult circumstances…
Five years later, the Bennett family’s life flowed steadily and calmly. Emily and Oliver had long grown accustomed to the new routine: studies, clubs, meetings with friends, warm evenings with Grandma. The parents still visited on alternate days each on their own day, with gifts and attention, but without mutual complaints. Over these years, they had learned to communicate reservedly, politely, without the old outbursts of anger.
The first personal contact between the former spouses occurred at the children’s graduation party. The school held a formal evening, and both parents, of course, attended. They kept their distance at first, sitting at opposite ends of the hall, but gradually the ice melted.
When the dancing began, Michael unexpectedly approached Sarah:
“Shall we dance? For old times’ sake.”
She hesitated briefly, then nodded.
After the evening, they sat for a long time in the school courtyard, watching the graduates having fun by the fountain. Conversation started naturally first about the children, then about the past.
They talked a lot that night, recalling happy moments from their marriage and behaving quite decently. They spoke not of old grievances but of the good things that had once connected them. The twins, watching their parents from afar, couldn’t have been happier. Yet it had been painful to see the two closest people treating each other almost like enemies.
But then, like a bolt from the blue, the next day Michael and Sarah invited the children to a café. Over a cup of tea, glancing at each other, they took each other’s hands, and Michael announced with a broad smile:
“Kids, your mum and I have thought about it and decided to get married again. Over these years, we’ve realised our feelings haven’t faded! We still love each other and want to become a family again.”
His voice sounded joyful, as if sharing the happiest news of his life. Sarah beamed, clearly expecting an enthusiastic reaction.
The twins exchanged glances their faces darkened instantly. Doubt flickered in Emily’s eyes, while Oliver clenched his fists under the table. The same mistakes again! What were their parents thinking? Could they live together without conflicts?
“Are you serious?” was all Emily could manage to say.
“Absolutely,” Michael replied confidently. “We’ve both changed. Learned to listen to each other. And we want to give our family a second chance.”
The children were silent. Conflicting emotions raged inside them: on one hand, they wanted to believe that their parents had truly changed; on the other they feared repeating the pain they had once endured.
However, Emily and Oliver didn’t try to dissuade them. They didn’t even comment on the statement, which greatly upset the parents. Sarah looked at the children in confusion:
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy? We thought you’d be pleased for us.”
But the twins only exchanged glances and shrugged. What could they say? “Don’t do it! Don’t ruin your lives!”? The words stuck in their throats. They didn’t want to seem cold, but they couldn’t pretend everything was fine either.
The conversation didn’t flow smoothly for the rest of the meeting. The parents tried to talk about their plans, the children nodded politely, but their thoughts were elsewhere. On the way home, Emily quietly said to her brother:
“I hope they know what they’re doing.”
Oliver merely sighed in response…
“So, we’re heading to London?” Emily opened her laptop, preparing to browse university websites. “Far away from this madness. I can already imagine how this circus will end!”
“Of course we are,” Oliver said firmly, a maturity beyond his years in his voice. He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to shed the burden of recent months. “They’ll live peacefully for a month, maybe two at most. Then it’ll start all over: shouting, slamming doors, accusations… I don’t want to be a hostage to their relationship anymore. I don’t want to wonder every morning what mood they’re in and who’ll be on the receiving end of the next wave of complaints.”
He stood and paced the room, absentmindedly gathering scattered textbooks. One thought kept circling in his mind: why do adults, who should be models of wisdom and stability, behave like unstable teenagers? Why, instead of solving problems, do they keep stepping into the same traps?
“We need to leave,” he repeated, stopping by the window. Beyond the glass, dusk was slowly falling, painting the city in soft orange hues. Oliver gazed into the distance, as if trying to glimpse his future there. “Far away. So far that their arguments can’t reach us. Let them sort it out themselves. We’re no longer their therapists, no mediators, no lightning rods. We have our own lives, our own dreams, and I won’t let them destroy them with another round of parental insanity.”
“When are we submitting the applications?” Emily asked calmly.
“Tomorrow,” Oliver replied without hesitation. “To make sure we don’t change our minds.”
The girl nodded silently, not taking her eyes off the monitor. Pages of London university websites flashed on the screen she’d been studying programmes, accommodation in halls of residence, job prospects after graduation for a week. In her notebook beside the laptop, lists grew: pros and cons of each option, required documents, deadlines, contacts for admissions offices.
“The main thing is to study in peace, without distractions from their dramas,” she said quietly, as if summing up her thoughts. “Good thing we’ll be so far away.”
“Exactly,” Oliver agreed, sitting down beside her. He tilted his head slightly, reading the lines on the screen. “And when they start figuring out who’s to blame again, we won’t even hear it. Let them call, complain, try to summon us to a ‘family council’ we’re not participating in that anymore. And their desire to ‘give the relationship a second chance’,” he gave a bitter smile, “that’s their choice, not ours.”
Sarah and Michael did go through with the second wedding. This time, they deliberately skipped a lavish celebration: they didn’t want unnecessary expenses, didn’t wish to attract attention, and, honestly, didn’t feel the need for anything grand. They limited it to a modest ceremony at the town hall and dinner with the closest parents, a few friends, the children.
In the photos from that day, they looked truly happy. Smiling, holding hands, looking at each other with tenderness and warmth. In the frame, their intertwined fingers, soft gazes, light touches were visible. It seemed all grievances were forgotten, that the years apart had done them good, that now they knew exactly what they wanted, and only a bright future lay ahead. The children, looking at these snapshots, couldn’t help but wonder: maybe this time things would really turn out differently?
But… alas, no. The first weeks after the wedding passed surprisingly peacefully: the spouses tried to be more attentive to each other, said “thank you” more often, didn’t nitpick over small things. However, old habits gradually returned. Within a month, raised voices echoed in their flat again. At first, they were restrained reproaches quiet but cutting: “Did you not clean up after yourself again?”, “Why didn’t you let me know you’d be late?”, “You could have helped since you’re home.”
Then open conflicts began. Arguments arose over trifles: someone left wet towels in the bathroom, someone forgot to buy bread, someone turned the TV up too loud… Words grew sharper, voices louder, pauses between fights shorter.
And after two months, just as Oliver had predicted, the situation reached a boiling point. One evening, an argument about who should buy groceries escalated into a full storm. Michael, unable to hold back, in a rage threw a cup against the wall it shattered with a loud crash, shards flying across the kitchen. Sarah, no less furious, grabbed a plate from the table and hurled it to the floor with force. The sound of breaking crockery echoed through the flat.
After such scenes, the parents inevitably tried to call the children. Each time, the conversation started the same: one of them dialled the number, barely catching their breath after the argument, and immediately poured out the accumulated grievances.
“Can you believe what he said today?” Sarah would break into sobs when Emily answered. “He doesn’t even try to understand me!”
“Son, you have to understand me, she has no self-control,” Michael would say agitatedly to Oliver. “I’m trying, I really am, but she seems to look for reasons!”
But Emily and Oliver had learned to gently but firmly interrupt these monologues. They no longer got drawn into long discussions, no longer tried to figure out who was right or wrong. Their responses were short but firm.
“Mum, I’m in class right now, I’ll call back later,” Emily would say calmly, glancing at the clock: twenty minutes remained before the lecture started, but she didn’t want to listen to another monologue.
“Dad, I have urgent work, let’s discuss this at the weekend,” Oliver would reply, not looking up from his laptop screen. He knew that if he let the parent vent, the conversation would drag on for an hour, and then he’d have to calm them down too.
“Later” and “at the weekend” were invariably postponed. The children found excuses studies, part-time jobs, meetings with friends and gradually the calls from parents became rarer. Emily and Oliver felt no guilt about this: they were simply protecting their nerves and time, knowing they couldn’t change what was happening between Mum and Dad.
The twins truly had their own lives full, meaningful, far from parental dramas. Each of their days now consisted of their own concerns, interests, and plans, rather than waiting for the next argument behind the wall.
Emily threw herself into studying psychology. She enjoyed understanding how the human mind works, why people act the way they do, how to help those in difficult situations. In her third year, she began volunteering at a centre helping teenagers from troubled families. There, she led group sessions, helped the young people express their feelings, find ways out of complex situations. Emily saw echoes of her own past in these teenagers and tried to give them what she had once lacked: attention, support, the feeling that they were heard.
Oliver found his calling in IT. From his early years at university, he became passionate about programming he was fascinated by the logic of code, the ability to create working systems, solve complex technical problems. He spent a lot of time at the computer, learning new programming languages, participating in student hackathons. In his fourth year, his team took third place in a regional competition for developing mobile applications this boosted his confidence and showed him he was on the right path. Oliver got a part-time job at a small IT company, where he quickly proved himself as a responsible and capable employee. Working on real projects, he learned to interact with colleagues, manage time wisely, and find solutions in unconventional situations.
The twins began planning a future without regard to their parents’ scandals. Emily dreamed of opening her own practice, helping families find common ground. Oliver considered starting his own business. They discussed plans over a cup of tea in a café, drew up schemes, wrote ideas in notebooks. And in these moments, they felt: they had support. They had a path. They had a life that belonged only to them.
When Sarah and Michael once again tried to draw them into their problems calling in tears, beginning to recount how bad everything was, how they didn’t understand each other the twins responded calmly and firmly. They had discussed in advance how they would handle the conversation to avoid snapping or falling back into their usual role as mediators.
“Enough, dear parents, sort it out yourselves,” Emily stated firmly. “You have your life, we have ours.”
“But you’re our children!” Sarah sobbed. “You have to support us!”
“If you behaved normally instead of like little children, we would support you,” Oliver declared immediately. “You made a mistake by remarrying, and you continue to torment each other. You can’t coexist normally in the same space, so why torture each other? Get divorced already and move apart.”
These words might have seemed cruel, but… the brother and sister simply wanted to live in peace.
