З життя
Gathered My Things and Set Off in Peace, My Wife Declared
Emily packed her suitcase, scrawled off in peace on a napkin, and drifted out the door like a sigh. Yesterday.
Your business doesnt concern me, Vince, she whispered, the words already hanging in the air. Everythings clear enough. Gather your pounds and bolt in every directionwhether to your ex or to the one youre with now.
What do you mean bolt? he asked, his voice trembling. And what about Charlie?
You remembered Charlie? Emily laughed, a hollow echo. You should have thought of him sooner. When you were racing about instead of helping with the baby, you never stopped to wonder why youre now recalling him.
A soft knock announced the arrival of Lizas brother, who opened the front door to the family home.
Simon arrived on holiday two days ago, and the muffled wails of children from the deepest rooms already set the house trembling in a friendly sort of chaos.
Aunt Liza, hello! shouted Simons daughter, Claire, dashing into the hallway to see who had come.
The cries continued unabated.
Hello, little Claire. Whos shrieking in there? Liza asked.
Oh, its Peter and Mark sharing toys, the fiveyearold sighed, folding her arms across her chest. Did you bring any treats?
I did, but Grandma will hand them to you later. First soup, then sweetsremember the rule.
Yes, I remember. Youll forget us, Claire sighed again and slipped back into the bedroom.
The shrieks faded, signalling that the twins, Peter and Mark, had finally decided what to play with without knocking each other down.
Whats wrong with you? Simon, who had been watching the exchange in silence, pressed again.
Im not sure, Liza sighed, setting her handbag on the coffee table before slipping off her shoes. I think Vince is cheating on me. He says Im paranoid and need therapy. But
Come into the kitchen and tell me everything, he urged.
Liza nodded, undressed, and drifted into the modest kitchen. Simon turned on the kettle while his younger sister perched at the table and began to talk.
There wasnt much to recount. Shed met her husband Victor five years earlier.
In his previous marriage the man couldnt have children, so he and Valentine had split, remaining friends, as they say.
That friendship, however, grew tighter and began to tighten around Liza like rope.
Hes texting her right before bed, you know? I lie there, our son sleeps in the next room, and hes chatting away.
Whenever hed been at home, hed dash off to greet her, a habit that had become a ritual.
Lately he stayed late at work. She complained that looking after the child alone was exhausting and an extra pair of hands would be welcome, but he buried his face in reports.
Now hes started nagging me, Whats so hard about you, with the child at nursery all day while you sit at home?
Hold onhow is that home when you also work remotely?
Explain it to him. Remote work is seen as you doing nothing, sitting comfortably at home, getting paid for it.
No one cares that youre putting in eight hours for the same money, just saving time on the commute.
Have you tried tracking him? Maybe peek at his phone, see who hes chatting withex or anyone else.
Youre joking! Liza shivered. Thats beyond human decency, really What if Im just imagining all this? Can you picture how that looks?
Right, the reality of messaging an ex when theres nothing there, a voice behind her said. It was Julia, Simons wife, who had heard most of Lizas complaints and placed an open phone on the table.
Whats this?
Its a chat with Claires father, Vladimir. Read it.
Theres nothing to read. In a month there are three messages about when hell pick up Claire, what hell buy her, and when hell bring her back.
False, theres also a Mothers Day card lying around, and my birthday greeting to him. Notice, Vladimir and I also split on good terms.
We have a shared daughter, and hes actively involved, not just paying maintenance.
If I were texting Vladimir instead of Simon before bed, Id already have divorce papers without needing to blame paranoia.
Exactlyif youd watched him, youd see the truth.
What if theres nothing? How would I look? Do you see it?
And what if it shatters our marriage, and Im the one whos paranoid?
Oh dear, here she goes again, Simon sighed, pressing a palm to his cheek.
I have an idea, Julia thought for a moment and said.
Whats that?
Your husband uses work as an excuse. Go to his boss, ask how long this will go on. Not as an accusation, but as a pleaI barely see my husband because of overtime, I need a doctor, I had to bring Charlie along because theres no one else, I cant get a dentist appointment because he disappears after work
Watch his reaction. If his job truly swallows him, maybe hell let you leave earlier sometimes, feel a pang of guilt.
If theres no real work, a different picture emerges.
Liza found the advice sensible and decided to act. She knew Victors manager, Vyse, a man shed often seen around town.
Approaching him wasnt hard. He greeted her, asking how things were, and Liza replied with a spontaneous line that steered the conversation.
Just the usual, Mr. Vyse. Victor stays late at the office, so Im left with no personal life, just glued to the nursery, waiting for Charlie.
Whos keeping him late? Vyses expression turned genuinely puzzled. Vince, on the contrary, asks for leave at four, saying he needs to help his wife, pick up the son from nursery, and sometimes go on sick leave to help his wife.
I dont mind him doing his work on time, but whats happening? Is he lying to my face? Call him, Liza, if you can.
Liza dialed her husband and, in a plain voice, asked what time he planned to be home.
Maybe you could leave work early? Take Charlie to the park while I tidy up.
Liza, Im swamped with a crucial project. Seva pushed me so hard I feel like a wolf howling.
I tried to be reasonablewife, childbut he only cares about his own hustle.
He even threatened to fire me if I didnt keep demanding special treatment.
Did I threaten to fire you? Seva snapped. You think I dont care about your problems? Ill sort you out tomorrow
What will I do for you? Liza promised.
The call ended. Victor didnt return that night, showing up only the next morning.
Listen, he began, theres something
I dont care about your affairs, Vince. Everythings already clear. Pack your pounds and head off in any directionto your ex or to the one youre with now.
What does head off mean? And what about Charlie?
You remembered Charlie? Of course You should have thought of him earlier. When you were sprinting about instead of helping with the baby, you didnt think of him; now youre only recalling him.
But I
Gathered my things and left in peace, but Emily finished, her voice trailing off.
After lunch her motherinlaw callednot to reconcile Victor with his second wife, but simply to share the news of a pregnancy with his first.
Valentina, the woman Victor had once split as friends with, had become pregnant; that absence had once wrecked their marriage.
And you know what? Im glad it turned out that way. I always liked Val, and you with your undisciplined son Liza cut the call short, hanging up.
In that moment she felt utterly indifferent to her husband, his former or future wife, and everything surrounding them. Only she and her son mattered, the rest were like pages turned and forgotten, as if they never existed.
Yet the pages refused to close, resurfacing three years later when Charlie finally started school.
How My Future Mother-in-Law Ruined Our Holiday: The Story of an English Family Vacation Gone Awkward, Complete with Last-Minute Substitutions, Reluctant Travel Partners, and Lessons Learned Before Saying ‘I Do’
Its just Being alone with my daughter on holiday, its frightening, you know? Margaret swept her hand through the air...
“I Gave Birth to Your Son, But We Don’t Want Anything from You” – The Mistress Called Lera’s husband looked at her like a chastened dog. “That’s right, you didn’t mishear me, Lera. I… I had someone else, half a year ago. Just a few times—nothing serious, just a fling. And now, she’s given birth to my son. Recently…” Lera’s head was spinning. Talk about earth-shattering news! Her steady, loving husband, a child on the side! The meaning of what he said barely penetrated. For a moment, she simply stared. He sat across from her, shoulders hunched, hands squeezed tight between his knees. He seemed smaller than usual—deflated somehow. “A son, then,” repeated Lera. “So, you, a married man, now have a son. And it wasn’t your wife who gave birth. Not me…” “Lera, honestly, I didn’t even know. I swear.” “You didn’t know how babies are made? You’re forty, Nick.” “I didn’t know she’d… well, that she’d choose to keep it. We broke up long ago, she’s with her husband now. I thought that was it.” He fumbled with his words. “Then, yesterday, a call: ‘You’ve got a son. Seven pounds, healthy.’ And then she hung up…” Lera stood, legs unsteady, knees like jelly as if she’d just run a marathon. Outside, autumn raged. Lera found herself distracted by the view—beautiful, even now. “So what now?” she asked, her back to him. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Oh, great answer. A real man’s answer. You don’t know.” She spun around. “Are you going over there? To see him?” Nick, panic in his eyes, managed to mumble, “Lera, she gave me the hospital’s address, said discharge is in two days. She said: ‘Come if you want, don’t if you don’t. We don’t want anything from you.’” “Very noble of her…” Lera echoed. “‘We don’t want anything.’ How naive…” The front door slammed—her two eldest had returned. Instantly, Lera slipped on a smile. Years in business had taught her to keep her head up, even when a deal was falling apart. Their older son poked his head into the kitchen—a tall, broad-shouldered lad, twenty. “Hey, Mum, Dad. You both look glum! Mum, is there any food? We’re starving after training.” “Manty in the fridge, heat it up,” she replied automatically. “Dad, you promised to look at the carburettor on my rust-bucket,” called out her younger son, clapping Nick’s shoulder. The family scene stabbed at Lera’s heart. They called him Dad. Their real father had faded into the background years ago—now just money transfers and the occasional postcard. Nick had raised them: taught them to drive, patched scraped knees, handled school issues. He was their real dad. “I’ll take a look, Alex,” Nick smiled. “Give Mum and me a minute.” They left, clattering plates. Lera turned to him. “They love you,” she whispered. “And yet you…” “Lera, stop it. I love them too. They’re my boys. And I’m not leaving. I’ve told you—it was a mistake, an error in judgment. Nothing serious.” “Nothing serious—just the kind of mistake that leads to changing nappies,” she shot back. Their six-year-old daughter, Maisie, then burst in, and Lera’s composure cracked. Maisie leapt into her dad’s lap. “Daddy! Why are you sad? Did Mum scold you?” Nick pulled her close, burying his face in her pale hair. For her, Lera knew, he would do anything. “No, princess. Just adult stuff. Go pop on cartoons, I’ll be in soon.” With Maisie gone, silence fell again. “Everything’s changed, you know,” Lera said quietly, sitting again. “There’s a son out there, and he needs a dad. That woman says ‘nothing now’, but give it time—when there’s winter coats to buy or doctor’s bills, she’ll ring. And you’ll go. You’re kind-hearted, Nick—you always have been.” He said nothing. “And the money, Nick? Where are you going to get that?” Lera’s words hit their mark. His business collapsed two years ago—their debts paid from her earnings. He scraped by now, but everything important—home, cars, holidays, the kids’ education—came from her. Even his bank card was one attached to her account. “I’ll figure it out,” he muttered. “Driving Ubers at night? Or dipping into my purse to support your lovechild? I bankroll us, and now you’ll bankroll them—with my money?” “She’s not my mistress!” Nick barked. “It was over six months ago!” “Children have a way of binding people closer than any marriage certificate. Will you go to the hospital when they discharge her?” The question hung in the air. Nick covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know, Lera. Human decency says I should—after all, it’s not the child’s fault.” “And what about human decency toward me? Toward Maisie and the boys? You’ll hold that child, and you’ll get attached. Soon it’ll be weekly visits… then weekends away. You’ll start lying—to me, to the kids.” Nick grimaced. “She’s eight years younger than me, Nick. Thirty-two. She gave you a son—your own, flesh and blood. My sons aren’t yours by blood, as much as you raised them. That boy out there—he is.” Nick protested: “Nonsense. The boys are mine. I raised them.” “Men always want a legacy. Their very own.” “We have Maisie!” “She’s a girl, Nick…” Nick stood abruptly. “Enough! Stop pushing me out the door. I said I’m staying. I can’t just ignore the fact that somewhere there’s my own son. If you want me gone, I’ll leave—right now, pack my things and be gone. But don’t try to blackmail me, Lera!” Lera froze. If she said “leave” now, he would go—foolish, prideful, and broke. But he’d go straight to them. There, he’d be a hero, a savior, father—albeit a penniless one, but theirs. And then she’d lose him for good. Despite the pain, she didn’t want that. The children loved him. She did, too. “SIT,” she whispered. “No one’s throwing you out.” He hesitated, breathing heavily, then sat. “Lera, I’m sorry. I’m such a fool…” “A fool,” she agreed. “But MY fool…” That evening, Lera helped Maisie with homework, checked work emails… but her thoughts kept drifting. She pictured the other woman, young and beautiful, probably feeling victorious. “We don’t want anything!”—the most damning move of all. No demands, no drama, just presenting the facts. That pricks a man’s pride—makes him want to be the hero. Nick tossed and turned at night; Lera lay awake, staring into the dark. She was forty-five: gorgeous, stylish, successful—but aware that youth was not forever. The future belonged to that other woman. * The next morning was harder still. The boys ate quickly and left. Maisie cornered her father: “Daddy, braid my hair? Mum doesn’t do it right!” Nick obliged, his large hands strangely gentle. Lera sipped her coffee and watched: here was her husband—warm, familiar, hers. And out there was another child, who had the same claim. How was this fair? “Nick,” she said, as Maisie rushed off to dress. “We need to decide—now.” He set the brush aside. “I thought about it all night.” “And?” “I’m not going to the hospital.” Lera felt something tighten in her chest, but hid it. “Why?” “Because if I go, I’ll give hope—to her, to myself, to that child. I can’t be a part-time dad, split between two homes. I don’t want to lie to you, Lera. I don’t want to steal time from Maisie or the boys.” He looked at her, exhausted. “I chose you eleven years ago. You’re my wife. This—this is my family.” “And the boy?” Even she was surprised to hear herself ask it. “I’ll pay support. Through the courts or with a bank account—whatever’s needed. But visits? No. Better he grows up never knowing me, than waiting for a father who’s just watching the clock, desperate to get home to his real family. That’s fairer.” Lera was silent, rolling her wedding ring around her finger. “You’re sure you won’t regret this?” “I probably will,” Nick admitted. “I’ll worry, I’m sure. But if I go, I lose you—and you won’t stand for that. You’re strong, but not made of stone. You’ll start to hate me, and I can’t let that happen.” He crossed the kitchen, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want another life. I want you—and the kids. The rest is the price for my mistake. I’ll pay in money, and only in money. No time. No attention. That’s all I’ve got to give.” She placed her hand over his. “Your own money?” she smirked. “I’ll earn it. I’ll find a way. I’ll never ask for your help with this.” And with that, she was at peace. Her husband may not have behaved honourably toward her, but these were exactly the words she had needed. No sharing. The other woman could deal with her choices. Nick never went to the hospital. The mistress soon flooded his phone with angry voicemails. He told her bluntly: she could expect financial support, nothing more. She hung up, and for half a year—there wasn’t another word from her. Lera was more than satisfied with that.
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