Every day, I find myself trapped in the same routine—cooking and cleaning for my daughter Kinga and her three children, who descend on my tiny flat like a whirlwind. I am Halina, a sixty-year-old widow living in a small town near Bath, and lately, I feel more like the family’s unpaid cook than a mother or grandmother. Today, as the clatter of plates and the shrill laughter of children echo through my kitchen, I reach my breaking point.