Життя
Як тільки матір відійшла у засвіти, старша дочка почала нишпорити по кімнаті у пошуках наживи
Ця ніч для мене видалася неспокійною…Наснилася мені моя давня подруга, яка відійшла у засвіти. Давно вона мені не снилася. На ранок я вирішила провідати її на місці вічного відпочинку.
При вході до нього побачила жінку, яка, спершись на дерево, тримала в руках букет червоних троянд. Впізнаю у ній свою давню знайому Анну. Вона зупиняє мене помахом руки, просить постояти кілька хвилин поруч із нею. Я нічого не розумію, і тоді Анна пояснює – вона йшла маму навідати, але там тепер є її сестра Тетяна, яку вона не бажає бачити, тому і чекає, доки та піде. Я піднімаю на Анну здивовані очі, і вона обіцяє розповісти свою історію, коли будемо повертатися до дому.
Таня і Аня народилися рік за роком, тому, хто не знав, гадали, що вони близнючки. Були дуже схожими між собою, голубоокі, кучерявенькі. Мама Ольга, відома кравчиня, однакові обновки дітям шила, душі не чула у них. Коли її чоловік знайшов іншу, Ольга не плакала, не просила повернутися. Була упевнена – розбиту чашу вже не склеїш, все одно рубець залишиться.
Як могла, давала дітям раду, окрім роботи в швейному ательє, ще й підзаробляла по людях: кому щось підшити, комусь підлатати, іншому – город посапати, і вже якась копійчина додасться. Щоб її донькам не жилося гірше, ніж іншим дітям. Щовечора мама разом з донечками приклякала перед образами і щиро молилася, щоб Господь допоміг їм пережити тяжкі часи. Вона навчала: «Хоч би які невідкладні справи на вас чекали, вони не повинні стати вагомішими за молитву».
І Всевишній почув її. Однієї неділі прийшла Ольга до святого храму. Після служби Божої до неї підійшов священник. Це неабияк насторожило жінку. І вже зовсім збило з пантелику, коли він вручив їй відкритий конверт, адресований священнику. Але при чім тут Ольга?
«Вашої адреси не знали, тому й відправили на церкву. Якби я не знав, про кого йдеться, то виголосив би у храмі, але оскільки знаю вас, вірну парафіянку, то вирішив особисто вручити листа», – усміхнувся священник.
Ользі аж світ закружляв, коли читала і знову перечитувала листа. Він був від рідного брата її батька, який колись емігрував у Чикаго. Він уже знав, що вона одна зосталася з доньками, обіцяв допомагати їм. Плачучи, Ольга виливала в листі до дядька свої жалі. Згодом їй стали надходити посилки з-за океану. Тоді були в моді американські хустки, які й коштували чимало. Найкращі Ольга собі й дочкам вибрала, коли до церкви йшли – зав’язувала. Інші – на базар їздила продавати. Утім, не лише хустки надсилав дядько Павло. З’явилися у їх гардеробі і вишукані кожушки, костюмчики, взуття, жити стало значно легше, надто ж – після відвідин дядька Павла, котрий прилетів до них із важкою валізою. Ще й вручив Ользі щедру купку доларових купюр.
Таня і Аня дуже гарно співали. Брали участь у найрізноманітніших конкурсах. Обидві вступили в музичне училище. І стали кращими студентками закладу.
Після закінчення училища Тетяна влаштувалася на роботу вчителькою співів. Вийшла заміж за красеня Миколу з їхнього села. Пришов до них у зяті. І відразу встановив у їхньому домі свої правила. Відтепер не лише помешкання, а й сад, господарка, город були поділені. З’явилися в кухні і два холодильники. Так поступово незрима стіна відчуженості виросла між сестрами.
Якось, почувши від Тані, що у її холодильнику щезло м’ясо, Ольга не витримала – скликала усіх на сімейну раду: «Мені соромно, що між моїми доньками не існує злагоди і чистоти взаємин. Пам’ятайте, кожен з нас рано чи пізно повинен зробити вибір – кому і чому він служить, Людина неодмінно повинна провести в душі чітку межу, розумієте? Визначайтесь!», – мовила суворим тоном Ольга і зі сльозами на очах вийшла з хати.
Коли у Тетяни появилася маленька Ангелінка, Аня стала їй хрещеною матір’ю. Вовтузилася з малою, як з рідною. Купляла усілякі одяганки, іграшки. А коли Ангелінка підросла, іноді брала її з собою на роботу в музичну школу, де працювала вчителькою. Мабуть, тому в дівчинки рано виробився музичний слух, вона стала співати з дітлахами у хорі. Одного разу поверталися вони з роботи, як несподівано почався сильний дощ. Небо розрізали блискавиці. Ангелінка розплакалася: «Я боюся грому, тітонько».
Анна взяла дівчинку на руки, притиснула. Звідкись перед ними зупинилася автівка жовтого кольору: «Вам куди? Сідайте», – з неї виглянув симпатичний чорнявий водій. Вони розговорилися. Сергій, так звали хлопця, з райцентру. А в їх селі – проїздом у відрядження їде. «Гарненька у вас донечка. На маму схожа», – усміхнувся Сергій, коли вони під’їхали додому.
Анна не розуміла й сама, чому весь вечір перед її очима стояв Сергій, його тепла усмішка, блиск карих очей. Вона довго не могла заснути. Їй би теж уже хотілося мати сім’ю, дітей, кохати і бути коханою. Як Тетяна…
Через місяць, повертаючись з роботи, побачила біля воріт знайоме авто сонячного кольору. Не повірила своїм очам – Сергій? Але чому він тут? «Захотів тебе побачити, Анютко. Усі ці дні ти була зі мною в думках і у снах. Знаю, що ти не замужем. Давай поговоримо», – обдав її іскрами своїх карих очей, від чого у неї ледь не вискочило серце.
… З тугою в душі віддавала Ольга Аню з рідного дому. Знала: нелегко їй буде, адже Сергій – круглий сирота, мешкає на найманій квартирі. Звісно, у їх великому домі їм би теж місце знайшлося, але молоді забажали жити окремо. Та й Тетяна з Миколою навіть не натякнули, щоб мешкати разом.
Час котився, мов з горба. Ангелінка стала студенткою педагогічного вишу, Микола створив власний бізнес. Оновив і так добротне їхнє помешкання. Але усе це не втішало маму Ольгу. Серце хвилювалося за Аню, яка нездужала, а потім Сергій мав серйозні негаразди. Синочок Артем скоро подорослішав, допомагав їм у всьому. Часто навідувала їх Ольга. І жодного разу – Тетяна. Забагатіла, тому зачерствіла, краялося серце Ольги.
Але ж вона навчала доньок вірності, любові та миру в родині. Та чомусь виходило так, що проживаючи разом із сімейством Тетяни, зі своїми проблемами Ольга зверталася до Ані, хоч у неї своїх клопотів – ціла торба. Чи то субсидію оформити, чи на огляд поїхати, посидіти біля мами – усе Анна.
Одного літнього ранку вибирала Ольга малину в садку. Цього року ягоди щедро вродили. Вже закрутила більше десятка слоїків. Ані теж відвезти слід. Артемко дуже малину любить. Звісно, найліпше було б, якби прямо з куща смакував. Та не запрошує Тетяна сестру до них. Широкою хазяйкою стала. Слід би віддати те, що придбала Ані. Хустками американськими поділити б сестер. Не раз Ольга просила Анну: «Приїдьте з Сергієм, і забери те, що тобі належить. А то, як закрию навіки очі – чи поділиться чимось Таня з тобою?» «Ви ще довго жити маєте, мамо», – казала Анна.
Ольга відчуває як зсувається із стільця, падає на траву, а на неї розсипається з миски малина… Була дев’ята година ранку, але про те, що сталося з мамою Тетяна сповістила Ані аж увечері. Поклавши разом з Миколою матір на ложе, не спішила кликати на сусідів, ні знайомих. Разом з чоловіком нишпорили в маминій кімнаті, переховували те, що Ольга придбала для Ані – гроші, золоті сережки, ланцюжок з хрестиком Артемкові, вишиті бісером сорочки, доріжки, весільний рушник, американські хустки. Заховала у стодолі навіть швейну машинку, яку Аня купила мамі за свою першу зарплату.
Нічим Тетяна з сестрою не поділилася. Так, наче Анна й не була донькою Ольги.
Відтоді Аня зачинила своє серце для сестри. Господь допоміг їй здолати недугу, разом з чоловіком підняти на ноги сина, отримати квартиру. Якось, зустрівшись на дорозі. Тетяна зупинилася: «Давай поговоримо, сестро». Але Анна відвернулася, наче й не чула її слів.
«Через глибоку ріку кривди я перейшла, щоб ось так легко простити Тетяні», – каже мені Анна.
Здається, я розумію її. І все-таки, прощаючись із нею, в глибині душі бажаю Ані припинити непорозуміння із сестрою, звільнити серце від нерозуміння, неприйняття і приготувати в ньому місце для Бога, щоб не довелося іще довго блукати. Молитися треба і відчути смирення під сильною рукою Господа, і він у свій час вознесе кожного з нас. І тоді не доведеться сестрам по черзі ходити матір навідувати.
Автор – Марія МАЛІЦЬКА
Dandelion Jam A gentle and snowy winter has passed, and with spring’s arrival in our small English town, Taissa finds herself yearning for green leaves and colourful blooms. From her third-floor window, she gazes out at the awakening city where lorries rumble, the market buzzes, and people shed their winter wear for brighter coats. Birds sing before alarms; spring brings new energy, and soon, summer will be even better. Taissa, long settled in her five-storey block, now lives with her granddaughter, Vera, a lively Year Four pupil whose parents—both doctors—left for a work contract in Africa, entrusting their daughter to her grandmother. “Gran, we’re giving you Vera to look after, just for a while,” her daughter had said. “She’ll be happier with you than traipsing across the world.” Taissa, now retired, was delighted for the companionship. Each day is filled with routine: shopping, chatting with her neighbours on the chilly bench outside—the ever-watchful Mrs Simmons from downstairs, always mysterious about her age, and the cheerful, well-read Mrs Valentine. Together, they swap news, share stories, and complain about health, their bench a hub of local gossip. Life continues: Taissa spoils Vera with treats for her good grades, welcomes her home from school, listens to her tales, and beams with pride at Vera’s dedication to dance lessons. One bright afternoon, as Taissa awaits Vera’s return, she’s joined by Mr Edward, a widower from next door, who talks about the daffodils and coltsfoot carpeting the lawns like tiny suns. Spring’s beauty is in full bloom, and with Vera’s lively mischief, their days are warm and busy. Edward and Taissa begin to meet regularly—reading the papers, walking in the park, discussing recipes, and sharing snippets of their lives. Edward’s own story is bittersweet: he raised his daughter, Anne, alone after losing his wife, and despite his efforts, Anne’s grown distant, raising a son on her own in another city. Unexpectedly, Anne arrives with austere intentions: she insists her father sell his beloved flat and move in with her for “company’s sake”. Edward resists, unwilling to leave his home and his quiet, independent life. Anne, noting his friendship with Taissa, confronts Taissa with suspicion, accusing her of ulterior motives regarding Edward’s property. The harsh words sting, but Anne soon leaves in anger, severing ties with her father. Taissa, embarrassed by the scene, grows distant from Edward—until one day, he waits for her outside, dandelions in hand, apologising for his daughter’s behaviour. He gifts her a wreath of dandelions and offers a jar of his homemade dandelion jam, extolling its health benefits and inviting her to try it in a salad. Together, they share tea with dandelion jam and laughter, and in the quiet evening, stroll to the park with a fresh issue of their favourite magazine. Sitting beneath their old lime tree, their conversation flows, and all worries melt away. For Taissa and Edward, the springtime brings sweet new beginnings—and the simple joys of dandelion jam. Thank you for reading, subscribing, and supporting my stories. Wishing you happiness in life!
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You Simply Don’t Understand Your Own Happiness — Half a million? — Karen stared at the phone notification, rereading it three times before the numbers made sense. — You took out a loan for half a million pounds? David was on the sofa, fixated on his smartphone, not even looking up. — Oh, that… Yeah, it’s nothing really, just for Mum’s house repairs. You know her pipes are leaking, floors warped, wallpaper peeling… — Hold on. — Karen sank onto the edge of the armchair, legs refusing to hold her. — You got a loan. For half a million. And gave all of it to your mother. Without saying a word to me? David finally looked up. His face showed only genuine confusion, as if his wife was asking something entirely obvious. — Karen, it’s my mum. She lives alone, her pension’s tiny. Who else is going to help her? — And you couldn’t discuss it with me? — Karen yelled, unable to stop herself. — Ask my opinion? At least warn me? — You would’ve argued, — David shrugged. — And Mum needed it urgently. Four years. Four years she’d put up with the woman who called every evening to check what David had for dinner. Who’d arrive unannounced and critique their cleaning, who’d orchestrate family dinners so Karen ended up at the far end of the table. — Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, — David kept his calm tone. — We’ll be fine. Pay it off fast, it’s not much. It’s family. Hot, angry tears streamed down. Karen wiped them with the back of her hand, smearing mascara. — Family? Am I family? Or just an add-on? Remember when your mum decided it was time for a new car and you sold ours without asking me? Or when she cleared my things out of the guest room because she “couldn’t sleep surrounded by strangers’ junk”? Or how on my birthday, you left with her to buy her a fridge? — It’s nothing, — David waved her off. — You’re just tired, you need a break. Karen looked at this man—tall, gentle features, dimples she once thought cute. Now she saw only a thirty-year-old boy who couldn’t cut the cord. — We’ll get through this, — he repeated like a mantra. — Love conquers all. Karen rose without a word and went to the bedroom. Two large duffel bags sat in the closet—the same ones she’d moved in with. She dragged them out, tossed them on the bed, and began opening cupboards. David appeared at the door twenty minutes later, just as one bag was stuffed full. — What are you doing? Karen, this is ridiculous. You’re not serious? She didn’t answer, quietly folding jumpers, jeans, underwear. Took down the jewellery box—gifts from her parents and friends, she wouldn’t take anything from him. — Where will you go? To your mum? She’s up in Manchester! Zipping the second bag. Checking her purse—passport, bank card, the keys to her mum’s flat she’d always kept “just in case.” — Karen, say something! You can’t just leave me. I love you! She looked him in the eye, sharp and long. Then picked up her bags and walked out. …Next morning, Karen stood in line at the registry office, clutching her completed divorce papers. Rain drizzled outside, grey clouds low over rooftops, but inside she felt a strange calm. The decision was made. The first call came at half past two in the morning. Karen jumped awake on the sofa at her friend Leah’s, not immediately sure where she was. — We need to talk, — David’s rapid breathing, scattered words. — I get it now, I’ll change. Please, give me a chance. She hung up. Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. — Karen, I can’t live without you. You are my whole life. By morning, there were forty-three messages. Each one long, tearful, full of promises and threats. “If you don’t come back, I don’t know what I’ll do.” “Mum says you’re just being difficult.” “I’ll wait for you, forever.” A week later, David began appearing outside her office. Karen would leave for lunch and there he’d be, hovering by the coffee kiosk. She’d head to the Tube—there he was, across the street. — Just passing by, — he insisted when Karen demanded an explanation. — I wanted to see you. One evening, there was a knock at Leah’s door. Karen opened it, not checking the peephole—she was expecting the pizza delivery. David stood on the doorstep, clutching a bouquet of red roses. — Just one chance, — he whispered. — I ask for nothing more. Karen quietly closed the door. He stayed outside for two hours, until the neighbours threatened to call the police. She learned to live with it—the way you learn to live with chronic pain. Don’t read the texts, don’t answer unknown calls, don’t look back in the street. Switched to remote work at a new firm, moved to a suburb where David would never “happen” to be. The divorce was finalised three months later. Karen left court with the official papers clutched tight and cried on the steps—not for grief, but relief. The first months of freedom were frighteningly empty. Karen had gotten used to checking every decision with someone, even if they’d always do as they wished. Now she could buy any yoghurt in the shop, without wondering if Mrs Davies would approve. She could watch any film, and wouldn’t hear “normal women don’t watch that.” She could breathe. She signed up for English courses—her long-time dream, which David had dismissed as “foolish expense.” Began attending early morning yoga before sunrise, when the city was just waking up. Took a solo trip to Brighton for the weekend, wandering the streets and eating doughnuts. Six months later, the calls stopped. The texts too. Karen waited for the catch another month, then another, and finally understood she could relax. She landed a job at a marketing agency—bright office, young team, exciting projects. Life was moving on. …She met Andrew at a work event her colleague Maddy insisted she attend. — This is our lead developer, — Maddy introduced a tall guy in thin-rimmed glasses. — Andrew, this is Karen from marketing. He shook her hand—firmly, but gently. Smiled—just a plain, genuine smile. — Escaping from the karaoke too, I see? — he nodded toward the stage, where the Finance Director was butchering “Wonderwall.” — Saving my nerves, — Karen nodded. They talked most of the night—about books, travel, the oddities of life. Andrew listened more than he spoke. Asked questions, actually waited for answers, never interrupted. Never tried to lecture or explain how she should live. When he found out she was divorced, he just nodded and changed the subject. …Half a year later, they moved in together, picking a flat in the city centre. Small, light-filled, high ceilings, overlooking a quiet courtyard. — Are you sure you like this flat? — Karen asked, as they viewed it before signing. — Maybe we should see some more? — Do you like it? — Andrew turned to her. — Yes. Very much. — Then let’s take it. Small things—the right to have an opinion, and be heard—meant more than any declarations of love. He proposed on the roof of their building, as the sun sank below the skyline, painting the sky pink and gold. He pulled out a tiny box, opened it—inside shimmered a diamond ring. — I’m not much for speeches, — Andrew admitted. — But I want to wake up next to you every day. If you don’t mind my snoring and my addiction to terrible coffee. Karen laughed through tears and nodded. …That May evening began like any other. Andrew was late at work—a looming deadline, an urgent bug. Karen was making pasta, humming along to the radio, when a sharp, insistent knock came at the door. She glanced through the peephole—and jumped back. It was David. Pale, dark circles under his eyes, crumpled shirt. Two years. Two years of silence—and now he was here. — Karen, open up! — his fist hammered the door. — I know you’re there! We need to talk! She grabbed her phone, dialled Andrew. The line was busy. — We love each other! — David shouted through the door. — You can’t be with someone else! It’s wrong! The door shuddered—he was throwing his weight against it. Karen pressed her back tight against the door, feet braced. — Get away, — she yelled. — I’ll call the police! — You’re my wife! — his voice climbed to a shrill pitch. — You were mine and you’ll always be mine! I waited two years for you to come to your senses! Two years! — We’re divorced! It’s over! — Nothing’s over! — he shoved again, and she barely held the door. — I’ve changed! Mum says you just don’t understand your own happiness! Open up, let’s talk! Through the peephole, his face was twisted, possessed. Nothing like the man she’d once shared a bed with. Karen dialled 999. — David! One click and the police will be here. Leave. Now. David froze. A few seconds passed. Then he spun around and strode to the stairs. Downstairs, the front door banged. Karen slid to the floor against the wall, dizzy. After half an hour, she managed to stand and call Andrew. The police took her statement the next day. The officer, an older bloke with a mustache, took notes, nodded. — We’ll deal with it. We’ll have a word. Whatever he said to David, Karen never found out. But after that, her ex never appeared again. No calls, no messages, no accidental run-ins. …She and Andrew held their wedding in early June—a small country restaurant, twenty guests, just close friends. No fuss, no groom’s relatives demanding old traditions. Karen stood across from Andrew in a simple white dress, holding his warm hands. Outside, birch trees rustled, the air scented with flowers and freshly cut grass. — Do you take… — began the celebrant. — I do, — Karen cut in, making the guests laugh. Andrew slid the ring on her finger—thin gold, engraved inside: “Always with you.” Karen looked up at the man who would be her husband. Not a mummy’s boy, not an obsessed stalker. Just a man who knew how to listen, respect, and love. Ahead lay a life where her voice mattered…
You just dont understand your own happiness Fifty thousand pounds? Emma scanned the notification flashing on her phone three times...
The Stillness of New Year’s Eve
New Years Quietude November hung over me like a damp blanketgrey, wet, hopelessly dismal, just as ever. The days dragged...
You Simply Don’t Understand Your Own Happiness — Half a million? — Karen stared at the phone notification, rereading it three times before the numbers made sense. — You took out a loan for half a million pounds? David was on the sofa, fixated on his smartphone, not even looking up. — Oh, that… Yeah, it’s nothing really, just for Mum’s house repairs. You know her pipes are leaking, floors warped, wallpaper peeling… — Hold on. — Karen sank onto the edge of the armchair, legs refusing to hold her. — You got a loan. For half a million. And gave all of it to your mother. Without saying a word to me? David finally looked up. His face showed only genuine confusion, as if his wife was asking something entirely obvious. — Karen, it’s my mum. She lives alone, her pension’s tiny. Who else is going to help her? — And you couldn’t discuss it with me? — Karen yelled, unable to stop herself. — Ask my opinion? At least warn me? — You would’ve argued, — David shrugged. — And Mum needed it urgently. Four years. Four years she’d put up with the woman who called every evening to check what David had for dinner. Who’d arrive unannounced and critique their cleaning, who’d orchestrate family dinners so Karen ended up at the far end of the table. — Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, — David kept his calm tone. — We’ll be fine. Pay it off fast, it’s not much. It’s family. Hot, angry tears streamed down. Karen wiped them with the back of her hand, smearing mascara. — Family? Am I family? Or just an add-on? Remember when your mum decided it was time for a new car and you sold ours without asking me? Or when she cleared my things out of the guest room because she “couldn’t sleep surrounded by strangers’ junk”? Or how on my birthday, you left with her to buy her a fridge? — It’s nothing, — David waved her off. — You’re just tired, you need a break. Karen looked at this man—tall, gentle features, dimples she once thought cute. Now she saw only a thirty-year-old boy who couldn’t cut the cord. — We’ll get through this, — he repeated like a mantra. — Love conquers all. Karen rose without a word and went to the bedroom. Two large duffel bags sat in the closet—the same ones she’d moved in with. She dragged them out, tossed them on the bed, and began opening cupboards. David appeared at the door twenty minutes later, just as one bag was stuffed full. — What are you doing? Karen, this is ridiculous. You’re not serious? She didn’t answer, quietly folding jumpers, jeans, underwear. Took down the jewellery box—gifts from her parents and friends, she wouldn’t take anything from him. — Where will you go? To your mum? She’s up in Manchester! Zipping the second bag. Checking her purse—passport, bank card, the keys to her mum’s flat she’d always kept “just in case.” — Karen, say something! You can’t just leave me. I love you! She looked him in the eye, sharp and long. Then picked up her bags and walked out. …Next morning, Karen stood in line at the registry office, clutching her completed divorce papers. Rain drizzled outside, grey clouds low over rooftops, but inside she felt a strange calm. The decision was made. The first call came at half past two in the morning. Karen jumped awake on the sofa at her friend Leah’s, not immediately sure where she was. — We need to talk, — David’s rapid breathing, scattered words. — I get it now, I’ll change. Please, give me a chance. She hung up. Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. — Karen, I can’t live without you. You are my whole life. By morning, there were forty-three messages. Each one long, tearful, full of promises and threats. “If you don’t come back, I don’t know what I’ll do.” “Mum says you’re just being difficult.” “I’ll wait for you, forever.” A week later, David began appearing outside her office. Karen would leave for lunch and there he’d be, hovering by the coffee kiosk. She’d head to the Tube—there he was, across the street. — Just passing by, — he insisted when Karen demanded an explanation. — I wanted to see you. One evening, there was a knock at Leah’s door. Karen opened it, not checking the peephole—she was expecting the pizza delivery. David stood on the doorstep, clutching a bouquet of red roses. — Just one chance, — he whispered. — I ask for nothing more. Karen quietly closed the door. He stayed outside for two hours, until the neighbours threatened to call the police. She learned to live with it—the way you learn to live with chronic pain. Don’t read the texts, don’t answer unknown calls, don’t look back in the street. Switched to remote work at a new firm, moved to a suburb where David would never “happen” to be. The divorce was finalised three months later. Karen left court with the official papers clutched tight and cried on the steps—not for grief, but relief. The first months of freedom were frighteningly empty. Karen had gotten used to checking every decision with someone, even if they’d always do as they wished. Now she could buy any yoghurt in the shop, without wondering if Mrs Davies would approve. She could watch any film, and wouldn’t hear “normal women don’t watch that.” She could breathe. She signed up for English courses—her long-time dream, which David had dismissed as “foolish expense.” Began attending early morning yoga before sunrise, when the city was just waking up. Took a solo trip to Brighton for the weekend, wandering the streets and eating doughnuts. Six months later, the calls stopped. The texts too. Karen waited for the catch another month, then another, and finally understood she could relax. She landed a job at a marketing agency—bright office, young team, exciting projects. Life was moving on. …She met Andrew at a work event her colleague Maddy insisted she attend. — This is our lead developer, — Maddy introduced a tall guy in thin-rimmed glasses. — Andrew, this is Karen from marketing. He shook her hand—firmly, but gently. Smiled—just a plain, genuine smile. — Escaping from the karaoke too, I see? — he nodded toward the stage, where the Finance Director was butchering “Wonderwall.” — Saving my nerves, — Karen nodded. They talked most of the night—about books, travel, the oddities of life. Andrew listened more than he spoke. Asked questions, actually waited for answers, never interrupted. Never tried to lecture or explain how she should live. When he found out she was divorced, he just nodded and changed the subject. …Half a year later, they moved in together, picking a flat in the city centre. Small, light-filled, high ceilings, overlooking a quiet courtyard. — Are you sure you like this flat? — Karen asked, as they viewed it before signing. — Maybe we should see some more? — Do you like it? — Andrew turned to her. — Yes. Very much. — Then let’s take it. Small things—the right to have an opinion, and be heard—meant more than any declarations of love. He proposed on the roof of their building, as the sun sank below the skyline, painting the sky pink and gold. He pulled out a tiny box, opened it—inside shimmered a diamond ring. — I’m not much for speeches, — Andrew admitted. — But I want to wake up next to you every day. If you don’t mind my snoring and my addiction to terrible coffee. Karen laughed through tears and nodded. …That May evening began like any other. Andrew was late at work—a looming deadline, an urgent bug. Karen was making pasta, humming along to the radio, when a sharp, insistent knock came at the door. She glanced through the peephole—and jumped back. It was David. Pale, dark circles under his eyes, crumpled shirt. Two years. Two years of silence—and now he was here. — Karen, open up! — his fist hammered the door. — I know you’re there! We need to talk! She grabbed her phone, dialled Andrew. The line was busy. — We love each other! — David shouted through the door. — You can’t be with someone else! It’s wrong! The door shuddered—he was throwing his weight against it. Karen pressed her back tight against the door, feet braced. — Get away, — she yelled. — I’ll call the police! — You’re my wife! — his voice climbed to a shrill pitch. — You were mine and you’ll always be mine! I waited two years for you to come to your senses! Two years! — We’re divorced! It’s over! — Nothing’s over! — he shoved again, and she barely held the door. — I’ve changed! Mum says you just don’t understand your own happiness! Open up, let’s talk! Through the peephole, his face was twisted, possessed. Nothing like the man she’d once shared a bed with. Karen dialled 999. — David! One click and the police will be here. Leave. Now. David froze. A few seconds passed. Then he spun around and strode to the stairs. Downstairs, the front door banged. Karen slid to the floor against the wall, dizzy. After half an hour, she managed to stand and call Andrew. The police took her statement the next day. The officer, an older bloke with a mustache, took notes, nodded. — We’ll deal with it. We’ll have a word. Whatever he said to David, Karen never found out. But after that, her ex never appeared again. No calls, no messages, no accidental run-ins. …She and Andrew held their wedding in early June—a small country restaurant, twenty guests, just close friends. No fuss, no groom’s relatives demanding old traditions. Karen stood across from Andrew in a simple white dress, holding his warm hands. Outside, birch trees rustled, the air scented with flowers and freshly cut grass. — Do you take… — began the celebrant. — I do, — Karen cut in, making the guests laugh. Andrew slid the ring on her finger—thin gold, engraved inside: “Always with you.” Karen looked up at the man who would be her husband. Not a mummy’s boy, not an obsessed stalker. Just a man who knew how to listen, respect, and love. Ahead lay a life where her voice mattered…
You just dont understand your own happiness Fifty thousand pounds? Emma scanned the notification flashing on her phone three times...
My Husband Invited His Ex-Wife Over for the Sake of the Children—So I Checked Into a Hotel to Celebrate on My Own
My husband invited his ex-wife over for the boys, so I spent the holiday in a hotel Where are you...