I’ve Never Taken What Belongs to Someone Else Once, while still at school, Martha both despised and envied Nastya. She looked down on Nastya because her parents were hopelessly alcoholic, scraping by on odd jobs and living hand-to-mouth. Nastya always wore shabby clothes, seemed half-starved and downtrodden. Her father often hit her—sometimes for drinking too little, sometimes for drinking too much, sometimes for no clear reason at all. Nastya’s mother never stood up for her, too afraid of her husband’s heavy hand. Only her devoted grandmother brought any light to Nastya’s world. Once a month, from her modest pension, Grandma would give her beloved granddaughter a “salary” for good behaviour. Even if Nastya misbehaved, Grandma would always pretend not to notice and hand over her pay anyway—five roubles! For Nastya, that was the happiest day of the month. She’d rush to the shop and buy ice cream (one for herself, one for Grandma), halvah, and a few sweets. Every time, Nastya tried to make the treats last all month—but after two days, they’d always be gone. Then, as if on cue, Grandma would get her own ice cream from the fridge and say, “Here, sweetheart, eat this. My throat is sore today.” “How odd,” Nastya thought, “Grandma’s throat always seems to start hurting the day my sweets run out…” She secretly always hoped to get a share of Grandma’s portion. Martha’s family was the complete opposite. Their home was overflowing with comfort. Her parents earned good money and pampered their only daughter. Martha was always dressed in the latest fashions, and her classmates sometimes borrowed her things. She was never denied anything—well-fed, well-dressed, and shod in the best shoes. Yet Martha envied her classmate’s enchanting beauty, the warmth that radiated from Nastya, and her natural ability to get along with everyone. Martha, however, considered herself above even talking to Nastya. Whenever they crossed paths, Martha would glare at her so coldly, it felt to Nastya as if she’d been doused in ice water. Once, Martha insulted her in front of everyone: “You’re pathetic!” Nastya ran home in tears and told her grandmother. Grandma sat her down, stroked her hair and said, “Don’t cry, Nastya. Tomorrow, tell her, ‘You’re right—I belong to God!’” Nastya felt better right away. Martha was beautiful herself, but her beauty came with an air of coldness and distance. Then there was Max, the class heartthrob—carefree, always joking, not bothered by failing grades or scoldings from teachers. His outlook was sunny, and his optimism infectious; even the teachers liked him, despite his troublemaking ways. In their final years at school, Max began escorting Martha home after lessons and waiting for her at the school gate in the morning. Their classmates teased: “Here come the bride and groom!” Even the teachers noticed the blossoming romance between Max and Martha. Eventually, the final bell rang, prom night passed, and the classmates went their separate ways. Max and Martha married in a hurry—the “evidence of love” couldn’t be concealed, not even by Martha’s elaborate wedding dress. Within five months, she gave birth to a daughter, Sofia. After school, Nastya was forced to get a job. Her beloved grandmother had passed away, and now her parents depended on Nastya’s income. She had plenty of admirers, but none touched her soul, and she was ashamed of her alcoholic family. A decade slipped by… One day, in the waiting room at the addiction clinic, there were two pairs: Nastya with her mum, Max with Martha. Nastya immediately recognized Max—he was now an impressive man, but Martha was nearly unrecognizable: gaunt, hands shaking, dead-eyed, only 28 but looking much older. Max greeted Nastya, embarrassed. “Hello, classmate,” he said, not wanting Nastya to witness his family’s misery. “Hello, Max. Looks like trouble at home. Has it been going on for long?” Nastya asked quickly. “A while,” he confessed, awkwardly. “A woman who drinks—it’s a disaster. I know from my mum. My father literally drank himself to death,” Nastya sympathized. After the appointments, Max and Nastya exchanged numbers for support. Misery loves company, and Max started visiting Nastya for advice. She shared her hard-earned wisdom about living with alcoholics, what treatments worked, and what absolutely didn’t. She knew, as so many drowned in the bottle, it wasn’t always obvious from the surface… Max confided that he and his daughter Sofia had long lived alone—Martha had returned to her parents’ home. Max had shielded Sofia from her unpredictable mother. The breaking point was when Max came home to find Martha drunk on the floor and three-year-old Sofia teetering on the windowsill, poised to fall from the fifth floor. After that, Max took no more chances. Martha refused help, convinced she could stop anytime. She was drawn to the abyss—and wanted to fall as far as possible. Their marriage ended. Later, Max invited Nastya to a restaurant and confessed: he’d loved her since their schooldays, but was too afraid of rejection, then Martha had become pregnant… Life tumbled on. Meeting at the clinic had seemed like fate. Chatting with Nastya was like a soothing balm. Max proposed marriage, and after all these years, Nastya was finally ready to accept his love—especially now that Martha was out of the picture. Nastya and Max married quietly, and she moved in with him. At first, Sofia was wary of sharing her father’s love, but Nastya’s kindness soon melted her heart, and before long, Sofia started calling her “mum.” A few years later, Sofia gained a little sister, Molly. One day, their doorbell rang. Nastya opened it to find—Martha, utterly changed, reeked of alcohol, a living warning. “You snake! You stole my husband, my daughter! No wonder I’ve hated you all my life!” Martha hissed. Nastya stood calm, confident, beautiful. “I have never taken what was not mine. You gave up your family by choice, never understanding why. I have never uttered a bad word about you. I truly pity you, Martha…” With that, Nastya closed the door on her uninvited guest.

NEVER TOOK WHAT WASNT MINE

Even back in school, Martha looked down on Nancy yet couldnt help but envy her. She despised Nancy because her parents were hopelessly, dreadfully drunkards. They scraped by on chance jobs, forever short of money. Nancy almost always went hungry, dressed in worn and faded clothes, and seemed weighed down by the world. Her father would hit her now and then, whether hed drunk too little or too muchor simply for nothing at all. Her mother never stepped in to protect her; she was afraid of her husbands heavy hand herself. Only Nancys gran was the bright spot in her life.

Every month from her modest pension, Gran would hand her beloved granddaughter some wages for being good. But Nancy knew, even if she did something wrong, her gran would pretend not to notice and always give her those wages. Five pounds! To Nancy, it was the happiest day of the month. Shed dash to the corner shop and buy ice cream (one for her, one for Gran), some fudge, and a handful of sweets. Each time, Nancy planned to make these sweet treats last a whole month, but to her dismay, theyd be gone in two days. Then Gran would fetch her own ice cream from the fridge and say:

Here you are, love, you have this. My throat feels a bit sore today.

How odd, Nancy would think, Grans throat always starts hurting the day the sweets run out In secret, Nancy would hope for Grans portion of ice cream, as if it was part of the ritual.

Marthas family was the polar opposite of Nancys. Their house was always full of laughter and warmth. Her parents both had good jobs and wanted for nothing. They spoiled their daughter, doting on her every whim. Martha wore the latest fashions, always looking put-together. Her classmates sometimes borrowed her things, and she never went without. Martha was well-fed, well-dressed, and perfectly provided for.

Yet, Martha envied her classmates captivating beauty, the natural kindness that radiated from Nancy, and her effortless way of getting along with everyone. Martha, meanwhile, considered herself too dignified to even talk to Nancy. Whenever they crossed paths, Martha would give her such a withering look that Nancy felt as though shed stepped under a freezing shower. Once, for all to hear, Martha called out:

Youre pathetic!

Nancy ran home in tears and told Gran everything. Gran sat her down and stroked her hair.

Dont cry, dear. Tomorrow, tell her, Youre rightIm Gods.

Nancy felt the heaviness lift almost at once.

Martha was attractive, too, but there was something cold and unapproachable in her looks.

There was also a boy in their class everyone adoredMichael. He was not exactly a model student. Cheerful, always joking, he never let a bad grade darken his day. Teachers might cover his report book in red marks and send him out for mischief, but they couldnt help liking him for his good-natured charm and the fact he meant no harm.

In the later years of school, Michael began walking Martha home after lessons. In the mornings, hed wait outside the schools gates for her, so they could stroll in together and hear classmates tease, Oh! The bride and groom! Even the teachers knew something lovely was brewing between Michael and Martha.

The last bell rang. School prom whirled past. The boys and girls flew out into the world, off to their destinies.

Martha and Michael married in haste; the signs of their love were plain to see. Not even a glamorous, multi-layered wedding gown could hide it. Five months later, Martha gave birth to a daughter, Sophie.

Nancy, after leaving school, had to start working right away. Her gran had passed, and her parents expected her to support them financially. There was no shortage of suitors, but Nancy never felt deeply moved or swept off her feet, so she held back. Besides, she was ashamed of her parents drinking.

Years passeda full decade.

In the waiting room at an addictions clinic in London, two pairs sat quietly: Nancy with her mum, and Michael with Martha. Nancy recognised Michael at once. Hed grown into a striking man. Martha, though, was a pitiful sightthin, trembling hands, vacant eyes, the look of someone much older than twenty-eight.

Michael cast Nancy an apologetic glance.

Hello, classmate, he said, obviously embarrassed to be caught in this place, especially by Nancy.

Hi Michael. I see youre in trouble. Has Martha struggled with this long? Nancy gently asked, reading the situation in an instant.

A long time, he admitted, lowering his head.

A woman who drinks thats a disaster. My mums the same. My dad, well, he drank himself to death, pretty much, said Nancy with empathyfor herself, and for Michael.

After that clinic visit, Michael and Nancy exchanged phone numbersjust in case. Misery loves company. Michael soon began dropping by Nancys place for advice, since, as he put it, shed seen more of the dark side than he had.

Nancy was glad to share what shed learned the hard way: how to deal with addicted loved ones, what treatments were available, what absolutely never to do. More men drown in drink than in the sea, she joked, but her eyes were sad.

It came out that Michael and his daughter Sophie had lived alone for some time now, while Martha had moved back in with her parents. Michael had decided to protect Sophie from her mothers unpredictable moods.

The final straw had come one evening: Michael came home to find Martha passed out drunk on the floor and little three-year-old Sophie teetering on the edge of their fifth-floor windowsill, moments away from disaster. Hed endured enough with Martha. Its hard to know whats in anothers heart, he reflected, and Martha never wanted to get help. She insisted she was in control and could stop anytime she wished. But the truth was, she was on a downward spiral and dragging everything down with her.

Their marriage ended.

One day, Michael invited Nancy to dinner. Over a quiet meal, he admitted hed had a crush on her ever since school. Hed been afraid shed reject him back then, and later things with Martha had taken overlife just swept him along. Meeting at the clinic now seemed like fate. Talking to Nancy felt like honey for his soul.

Michael proposed, offering Nancy his hand and heart at last. Hed found the key to her heart, too, and Nancy was ready for a new beginning. Shed always liked Michael, but would never have dreamt of stepping between him and Martha. Now, though, the path was clearMichael was free and loved her. At last, she found the loving arms shed always hoped for.

Michael and Nancy quietly tied the knot, and Nancy moved in. Sophie was wary at first of this new woman in their home, suspecting her dads love would now be split. But Nancy showed the girl such warmth and kindness that Sophie soon started calling her mum. In two years, Sophie gained a little sister, Molly.

One day, the doorbell rang at Nancy and Michaels. Nancy answered the door to findit was Martha. Nancy only recognised her by voice; there was that familiar smell of gin, and her appearance said it allshe was lost in drink.

You snake! You stole my husband and daughter! Martha spat. No wonder Ive hated you all my life!

Nancy remained unmoved, standing tall and serene.

Ive never taken what wasnt mine. You left your familyby choiceand didnt understand what you were throwing away. I never said a bad word about you. Truly, Martha, I feel sorry for you.

With that, Nancy calmly shut the door on her unexpected visitor.

From that day forward, Nancy held her own home in warmth and peace. She never once took what belonged to someone else, nor built her happiness on anothers sorrow. The lesson was clear: true happiness comes not by grasping at whats not ours, but by loving and cherishing what life gives usopen-hearted, honest, and kind.