I live with my husband, Mark (31), and our two children, Emma (4) and Jack (6). My life was going smoothly until my sister, Sarah (25), was evicted from her apartment. Our parents live 11 hours away, so we took her in, thinking it would be a temporary arrangement.

At first, I didn’t mind helping Sarah out. She’s my sister, after all. But as weeks turned into months, it became clear she wasn’t planning to contribute to the household. She didn’t work, didn’t help with chores, and seemed content to laze around all day.

One thing that particularly irked me was her choice of attire. Sarah often walked around in lingerie, even when Mark was home. I had spoken to her about it multiple times, asking her to dress more appropriately around the house, especially with young children present. She would nod and promise to change, but nothing ever did.

The final straw came one day while I was at work. I received a call from Jack’s school that he wasn’t feeling well, so I left work early to pick him up. When we got home, I was exhausted and just wanted to rest. As I walked through the door, I was greeted by an uncomfortable scene.

There was Sarah, sprawled on the couch in nothing but a lacy nightgown, watching TV. But it wasn’t just her inappropriate clothing that caught my attention—Mark was sitting on the other end of the couch, looking extremely uncomfortable. My blood boiled as I took in the situation.

“Sarah, can I talk to you for a minute?” I said, trying to keep my voice calm for the sake of the kids.

She looked up, slightly annoyed. “What’s up, sis?”

“In the kitchen, please,” I insisted.

Once we were out of earshot, I let my frustration spill over. “Sarah, this has to stop. You can’t keep walking around like this. It’s disrespectful and inappropriate.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re overreacting. It’s just clothes.”

“It’s not just clothes, Sarah. You’re living in our home, and you need to respect our boundaries. Mark and the kids shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable in their own house.”

She scoffed. “Maybe if you were home more often, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

That was it. “You need to find another place to stay,” I said firmly. “I can’t have you here if you’re going to disrespect us like this.”

Sarah looked taken aback. “Are you seriously kicking me out?”

“Yes,” I said. “I love you, but I can’t have you disrupting our family any longer. You need to find a job and a place of your own. I’ll give you a week to make arrangements.”

She stormed out of the kitchen, grabbing her purse and slamming the front door behind her. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. When I returned to the living room, Mark was standing there, looking relieved.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I will be,” I replied. “I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

He pulled me into a hug. “You did the right thing. We need to protect our family.”

That evening, I explained the situation to Emma and Jack in the simplest terms, telling them that Aunt Sarah needed to find her own place. They seemed to understand, although Jack was more concerned about missing his cartoons.

The next week was tense, but Sarah managed to find a friend she could stay with. As she packed her things, she avoided eye contact, but I hoped she understood this was for the best.

Once she was gone, a sense of peace returned to our home. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was necessary. Our family needed to come first, and we couldn’t allow anyone to disrupt the harmony we worked so hard to maintain.