My entire life, I dreamed of being in my brother’s shoes, but everything soon changed.
My mother found out she was pregnant with me at eighteen. My father left as soon as he got the news—he wanted no part of family life, only endless parties and friends. My mother’s parents, my grandparents, were furious. In our small town near Manchester, having a child out of wedlock was considered shameful, and my grandfather threw her out, shouting, “I don’t want to see such a reckless daughter!” I can’t even imagine how she must have felt—so young, alone, and carrying a baby. But she persevered: she enrolled in a distance learning program, found a job, and pushed herself to the limit. She was given a room in a dormitory, and that’s where we started our life together. I had to grow up faster than other kids—I went grocery shopping, cleaned, and heated up meals. Playtime? There was no time for that. From a young age, I was her support, her only man.
I never complained—I was proud of this. But soon, Victor came into our lives. I liked him: he brought sweets, surprised my mum with treats, and cared for her. She blossomed around him and eventually said, “Victor and I are getting married and moving to a big house.” I was thrilled—I had dreamed of having a real dad, and hoped Victor would be that for me. Initially, everything felt like a fairy tale. I had my own space, where I could relax, listen to music, and read. Victor helped Mum, and her eyes shone with happiness.
Then she announced she was expecting a baby. Soon after, Victor said, “Stan, you’ll have to move into the storage room. That will be the nursery.” I didn’t understand: the house had plenty of rooms, so why me? The next day, my things were shoved into a cramped little room that barely fit a bed. It was unfair, but I kept quiet—I was used to enduring.
When my baby brother, Mike, was born, the nightmare began. His cries kept me up, and I stumbled around like a zombie. My grades plummeted, the teachers were upset, and Mum yelled, “You have to set an example for your brother! Stop bringing shame on us, you lazy boy!” As Mike grew, more responsibilities fell on me—I had to walk him, push his pram around the neighborhood. The other kids laughed at me, and I blushed from embarrassment but stayed silent. All the best things—clothes, toys—were bought for Mike. When I asked for something, Victor dryly replied, “There’s no money.” I took Mike to nursery, picked him up, fed him, cleaned the house—living in hope that he’d grow up and I’d be free.
When Mike started school, Mum told me to help him with his homework. He was spoiled and demanding—he slacked off in his studies, and my attempts to put him straight ended with his complaints to Mum. She always took his side, and I’d get lectured: “You’re the eldest, be more patient!” He kept moving from school to school, failing everywhere. Eventually, they enrolled him in a private school, where money allowed his poor grades to go unnoticed. Meanwhile, I went to technical college to become a mechanic—not because I wanted to, but to escape home.
Later, I took evening courses and found a job—I worked tirelessly, saving for my own place. I got married, and found peace. And Mike? Victor gifted him a flat, but he still lives with our parents, renting out the flat and spending the money on nonsense. He doesn’t want to work, lounges in front of the TV all day. One New Year, we gathered at our parents’ house. His current girlfriend, Ella, came over. I accidentally overheard their conversation in the kitchen.
“You’re lucky with your brother,” she said to my wife, Tanya. “Stan is such a hard worker, so responsible. Why isn’t Mike like him? I’ve asked him to move in together, start a family, but he just clings to his mum. There’s money from the rent, but what good does it do?”
“Yes, Stan is amazing,” Tanya smiled. “Leave Mike, he’s not worth it. He’s not husband material.”
I froze. Mike changed girlfriends like gloves, but none stayed long—Mum chased them all away, thinking them unworthy of her “golden boy.” And he never resisted, living in his cocoon of laziness. At that moment, I realized: I no longer envied him. Everything I once wished for—to be in his place—was meaningless. Life had tested me, but it had also rewarded me for it. I have a family, a loving wife, a daughter, and a home I built with my own hands. I’m proud of myself, and for the first time, I don’t regret not being Mike. My life is my triumph, hard-earned and genuine.
