You know how everyone has that one cousin who’s a little bit extra? For me, that’s Ella. I’m Zoe, 25, recently out of grad school, and working part-time at a local bookstore while figuring out my next step. My life is pretty quiet: books, coffee, and the occasional hike. I come from a big family where everyone’s in everyone else’s business, and Ella, my older cousin, is right at the center.

Ella, married to Mike and with a two-and-a-half-year-old son, Tyler, lives in a cramped basement apartment under her parents’ house. I’d only visited a few times for family gatherings and always felt a bit out of place. So, when Ella called me in a panic one afternoon, I wasn’t too surprised.

“Zoe, I need a huge favor. Can you come over and watch Tyler? Something came up, and I’ve got to go now!” Ella’s voice was rushed.

I agreed and arrived to find Ella and Mike practically tripping over each other to leave. “Thanks so much, Zoe!” Ella blurted, already heading out. Tyler, smiling, held up his arms for a hug.

But then I saw the mess. The kitchen was a disaster—dirty dishes, trash, and a terrible smell. I had to clean up before I could even make Tyler a meal.

The next weekend, Ella called again. “Can you come over? Just for a few hours?” I arrived to find the same mess, if not worse. I cleaned up again, thinking they must be having a tough time. But this continued week after week, and it dawned on me that I was being used as their personal maid.

When I got home, my dad noticed I was upset. I told him everything, and he was concerned. “Why haven’t you told her to clean up before you get there?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to seem rude,” I replied.

Dad suggested a plan. “Next time Ella calls, say yes. But when it’s time to cook, I’ll call her mother-in-law and say there’s an emergency, so you have to leave.”

The following Saturday, Ella called. I agreed to babysit and waited for Dad’s signal. When he texted, “Time to go,” I told Tyler I had to leave, texted Ella about an emergency, and saw her mother-in-law, Barbara, arriving with a pot and plates.

Barbara looked puzzled as I hurried out. I could imagine Ella’s reaction to the mess. Back home, Ella’s frantic texts began: “Why didn’t you clean up?” and “Mom’s furious!”

I let her stew for a bit before answering. “I’m not your maid. I came to help with Tyler, not clean your house. I thought it was time you dealt with it.”

Ella apologized profusely. “I didn’t realize it was that bad. I’m sorry.”

Since then, things have improved. Ella learned to manage her time better, and her place is much cleaner. Tyler still gets a cleaner, happier environment when I visit.

Sometimes, people need a little nudge to see things clearly.