З життя
A Life Back in Order – “Lada, I Forbid You From Speaking to Your Sister and Her Family!” My Husband Gave Me an Ultimatum, Enraged at My Bond With My Sister Natasha, While His Own Drinking and Cheating Tore Our Marriage Apart – But When a Stranger Turned Up With His Secret Son, I Finally Found The Strength To Break Free and Discover True Happiness with Kind-Hearted Dr. Herman Lewis
LIFE, SORTED
Lydia, Im forbidding you from seeing your sister and her family again! They’ve got their life, weve got ours. Did you ring Alice again? Complaining about me? I warned you. So dont blame me if… and with that, Brian dug his fingers into my shoulder.
As usual, I retreated to the kitchen, holding back bitter tears. No, I never moaned to my sister about my life honestly, we just chatted. We’ve got elderly parents, theres plenty to talk about. But that made Brian furious. He absolutely loathed my sister Alice and her husband. Their lot had peace and prosperity, unlike our own little circus.
When I married Brian, I was the happiest girl in all of England. Brian swept me up in a whirlwind romance. I wasnt at all bothered by his height he was a head shorter than me. I didn’t even mind his mother, who staggered into our wedding half-pickled. Turned out, shockingly, Brians mum had a bit of history with the bottle.
Blinded by love, I overlooked the red flags. But, a year into marriage, my fairytale all but evaporated. Brian knocked back the pints, rolled home more pickled than an egg behind the bar, and then came the chain of affairs. I was working as a nurse at the local NHS. My pay was nothing to write home about. Brian, meanwhile, spent his days and nights chatting nonsense with his lager mates at the pub.
He didnt have any intention of actually supporting his wife. Once, Id dreamed of children, but now I channelled all my maternal instincts into our pedigree tabby. The idea of kids with my alcoholic husband was, frankly, horrifying though I still loved him, for reasons known only to the gods.
Youre a mug, Lydia! my mate (who also worked at the hospital) would say. Look at all the blokes buzzing around you, and yet youre stuck on your little garden gnome! What do you see in him? Always turning up with bruises like youre auditioning for a new Midsomer Murders episode. Think no one notices those designer sunglasses in the staff room? Leave him before he does something really daft.
And she was right. Brian had a short fuse and long arms. Once, he battered me so badly I couldnt even make it in for my shift. Worse, he locked me in the flat and took the keys with him.
Since then, I was absolutely petrified of him. My heart pounded the second I heard the key in the door, like I owed the gas bill. I think Brian resented me, for not giving him a child, for being a rubbish wife, for well, for everything. Thats why I stopped arguing back about his thuggish outbursts or disgusting insults. Why did I still love Brian? I still dont know.
Once, his mother, looking every inch the wicked witch from an old storybook, pulled me aside: Lydia, do as your husband says. Love him with your whole heart. Forget your family, friends they’ll only lead you astray.
And so I did. Friendship and family swapped for submission and a bottle-fed husband. Brian had complete control.
It was always the old routine afterwards him in floods of tears, down on his knees, slobbering over my feet like he was auditioning for The Great British Bake Off but without any of the cake. Reconciliation was sugary-sweet and dreamlike. Brian would cover our bed with rose petals that he clearly pinched from his mates wifes garden next door. We all knew Dave the Drunk would flog a rose bush for a fiver if you asked nicely at the pub. His wife would be in bits over her poor bushes, but the wives forgave anything over a few sorry flowers.
Most likely, I’d have spent my life bowing and scraping for Brian, my fairyland constantly shattered by the next blow-up. But then fate decided to give me a nudge…
Let him go, Lydia. Ive got his son, blurted a stranger one morning brazen as you like. Youre barren. Why cling on?
Not true! Out, before I call the police, I snapped, not quite ready for this drama.
Brian tried to bluff, but I knew the truth. Swear thats not your son! I demanded. But Brian just stared blankly. I got the message.
Lydia, Ive never seen you happy. Is everything all right? The hospitals Chief, Dr. Gregory Baker, actually noticed me for once. And here I was, shifting awkwardly under his gaze.
All fine, I mumbled.
Thats grand, when lifes ticking along. Everything looks wonderful from the outside, he said, with a knowing look.
Dr. Baker had once been married, had a daughter, rumour had it hed divorced over his wifes infidelity. Now, in his forties, he lived alone. He wasnt exactly tall or dashing, definitely balding, glasses slightly askew. But whenever he came close, I got that odd giddy feeling, as if Id sniffed aftershave laced with happy hormones.
I tried to avoid him, terrified of getting swept up in anything so… new. His words, though, rang in my ears: Thats grand, when everythings in order. Except my whole life was upside down, and time wasnt on pause for me to untangle it all.
So thats how I ended up leaving Brian, moving in with my parents. Mum was stunned: Lydia, what on earth? Did he kick you out?
No, Mum. Ill explain later, I said, unable to confess the mess.
Brians mum rang after, let rip with curses thatd curdle milk. But by then, Id found my backbone. Dr. Baker restored me, brick by brick.
Brian, meanwhile, raged, stalked, threatened, but didnt realise he no longer had any hold over me.
Brian, dont waste your breath. Take care of your son. Thats your job now. My chapter with you is closed. Goodbye, I told him calm as you like.
Back at my sister Alices and among my family, I finally felt like myself again not some puppet on a string.
My friend quickly picked up on the change. Lydia, youve changed. Youre glowing! Honestly, you look like youre ready for Love Island.
Then Dr. Gregory Baker upped the ante: Lydia, lets get married! I promise you wont regret it. Just one thing call me Greg, save my posh title for work.
Wait, Greg do you love me? I blurted, shocked by his offer.
Oh, sorry, forgot women like to hear it out loud. Yes, I love you, Lydia. But, truth be told, I trust actions, not words, he smiled, kissing my hand.
I do, Greg. I know Ill grow to love you even more, I beamed.
Ten years have flown by.
Every day, Greg proves his love with deeds, not empty declarations. Hes never kissed my feet or poured out soppy apologies like Brian. Instead, hes gentle, supportive, and thoughtful full of those grand gestures only real men pull off. No kids of our own, turns out; maybe that woman was right about me, a late bloomer if ever there was one. Greg never fussed, never blamed. Hed just say: Lydia, maybe its meant to be just us two. Ive got all I need right here. When sadness snuck in, that always helped.
Gregs daughter eventually brought us a granddaughter, little Sophie, who quickly became our pride and joy.
And as for Brian? He drank himself into an early grave just shy of fifty. Saw his mother at the greengrocers once; she scorched holes through me with her glares, but her hatred just fizzled away in the breeze. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
And as for Greg and me? Well, were grand all in order. Life couldnt be better.
A Life Back in Order – “Lada, I Forbid You From Speaking to Your Sister and Her Family!” My Husband Gave Me an Ultimatum, Enraged at My Bond With My Sister Natasha, While His Own Drinking and Cheating Tore Our Marriage Apart – But When a Stranger Turned Up With His Secret Son, I Finally Found The Strength To Break Free and Discover True Happiness with Kind-Hearted Dr. Herman Lewis
LIFE, SORTED Lydia, Im forbidding you from seeing your sister and her family again! They’ve got their life, weve got...
Bitterness at the Bottom of My Soul “The children’s home has been waiting for you for ages! Get out of our family!” I screamed with a trembling voice. The target of my wild indignation was my cousin, Dima. God, how I loved him as a child! Blond hair, bright blue eyes, cheerful nature — that was Dima. …Relatives often gathered around the festive table. Of all my cousins, I singled out Dima. He could spin tales with his tongue like a lace maker and he drew brilliantly. Sometimes he would churn out five or six sketches an evening. I would stare, entranced by their beauty, quietly gathering his drawings and hiding them in my desk. I carefully treasured my cousin’s artwork. Dima was two years older than me. When he turned 14, his mother died—gone so suddenly, she just didn’t wake up… The question arose—what would happen to Dima? Naturally, they first turned to his father, but finding him was no easy feat. He and Dima’s mother were long divorced, and the new family “couldn’t be disturbed.” The rest of the relatives just shrugged: “We have our own families, our own problems.” Turns out, during the day, family is there, but come nightfall, not a soul to be found. So, with two kids of their own, my parents became Dima’s guardians—after all, Dima’s late mother was my dad’s younger sister. At first, I was happy that Dima would be living with us. But then… On his very first day in our home, Dima’s behavior set me on edge. To comfort her orphaned nephew, my mum asked, “Is there anything you’d like, Dima? Don’t be shy, just say.” And Dima immediately replied, “A model train set.” Now, this wasn’t a cheap toy. I was shocked—your mum just died, the most important person in your life, and all you want is a train set? How could you even think of that? But my parents immediately bought him his dream. Then it was, “Buy me a tape player, jeans, a designer jacket…” This was the eighties, mind you, and not only was this stuff pricey, but it was impossible to get. My parents made sacrifices for the orphan, even at our own expense. My brother and I understood and didn’t complain. …When Dima turned sixteen, he discovered girls. And he wasn’t afraid to show his affection. Worse yet, he started making advances toward me—his own cousin. But as a sporty girl, I skillfully dodged his unwelcome attention. We’d even come to blows. I would cry and cry. I never told my parents—they didn’t need the heartache. Kids don’t talk about such things. After I fended him off, Dima wasted no time turning to my friends, who actually competed for his attention. …But Dima was also a shameless thief. I remember my piggy bank: saving on school lunches to buy presents for my parents, only to find it empty one day! Dima denied everything—didn’t bat an eye, didn’t blush, just outright lied. It broke my heart. How could he steal while living under our roof? He was wrecking our family from within, but Dima really didn’t understand why I was upset. He truly believed everyone owed him. I began to hate him. That’s when I finally screamed at him: “Get out of our family!” I lashed him with my words—said things that can never be taken back… My mum barely managed to calm me. From that day on, Dima ceased to exist for me. I ignored him completely. Later, I learned the other relatives knew what a “character” Dima was—they lived nearby and seen it all. Our family lived across town. Even Dima’s former teachers warned my parents: “You’re making a big mistake. Dima will ruin your other children too.” …At a new school, he met Katy—she loved Dima all her life. She married him straight out of school. They had a daughter, and Katy put up with his lies and cheating without protest. As they say: single life is hardship, married life is double. Dima joined the Army, stationed in Scotland. There, he started another family—he somehow managed it during leave. When his service ended, he stayed in Scotland. He had a son there. Katy, not hesitating, went after him and, by hook or by crook, brought him back home. My parents never received a word of thanks from cousin Dima—not that they expected it. Now, fifty years on, Dmitri is an active member of the local Anglican church. He and Katy have five grandchildren. On the surface, all seems well, but the bitterness of life with Dima remains… No amount of sugar could ever sweeten it.
SORROW AT THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART Youve needed a childrens home for years! Get out of our family! I...
Bittersweet Happiness – “What’s wrong with that young lady? She’s a good girl. Modest, neat, a hardworking student. She loves you,” Helen Edwards chastised her son. “Mum, I’ll handle it…” Denis clearly ended the pointless conversation. Helen left the room. “He’ll handle it… How many girls has he turned away… Nearly forty, and soon no one will do. Nothing’s ever right for him…” she thought with a heavy sigh. “Son, dinner’s ready,” Helen called from the kitchen. Denis responded instantly, tucking into his mother’s homemade stew. “Thank you, Mum. Delicious, as always.” “You should be saying that to your wife, not me,” Helen couldn’t let it go. “Mum…” Denis drank his compote and prepared to leave. “Wait, son. Do you know, I once visited a fortune-teller? She took one look at me and said: ‘Your son will have happiness, but it will be bittersweet.’” “Oh, Mum, don’t believe such things,” Denis grinned. …Through the years, different women—some loved, some not—came and went in Denis’s life. …Inna was smart, cultured, shockingly wise for her age. She often gave sound advice to the nine-years-older Denis. At first he liked this, but then he began to see Inna more as a mentor than anything else. Everything felt colourless. They split up. Polly had an eight-year-old son. Try as he might, Denis couldn’t get through to the boy, though he loved Polly. She was beautiful, but too headstrong. Whenever they quarrelled, he’d try to patch things up with gifts. The arguments felt senseless. Something was always missing—maybe peace and stability. Vera was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. Denis almost married her. She was decent, pure, balanced—he felt like he had to “wear kid gloves” just to speak to her. He even moved into her flat. He was ready to start a family. But… He came home unexpectedly from a work trip to find Vera in bed with her old school friend. Classic… After that, Denis moved back in with his mum. Enough romance, he decided. “I’ll be a bachelor—a solid family of one,” he joked to his mum. Helen would shrug and sigh: “Will you ever find your one, son?” But fate had its own plan. Suddenly, unexpectedly. Denis was travelling for work, claimed his usual bottom bunk in the train carriage. A woman entered: “Excuse me, would you mind swapping? Can I have your lower bunk? Please.” “No trouble,” Denis replied. He looked her over—nothing remarkable. Yet his heart skipped. “Maybe she’s the one…” He clambered onto the top bunk and dozed off… “Glad you’re awake! Come, have some tea,” the stranger cooed. Denis climbed down and they started talking. “Larissa,” she introduced herself. “Denis. Nice to meet you, Larissa.” They talked throughout the evening. Denis felt instantly at ease. He didn’t try to impress her; everything just flowed, as if he’d known her forever. They exchanged numbers, just in case… A couple of weeks later, he couldn’t resist calling her. One thing led to another… Dates, kisses, promises… Denis couldn’t imagine his life without Larissa. At forty years old! He’d always let previous girlfriends go easily—but not this one… He wanted to lose himself entirely in her life. Larissa surrounded Denis with love, care, and understanding. Three months in, he offered his heart and hand. “Denis, I’m seven years older than you. I have three children. We live in a council flat,” Larissa admitted. She never lied. “I know, Lara. I’ve met your kids—you’ll all move in with me. It’s sorted. I love every inch of you. You’re my last and only,” said Denis, kissing her tenderly. “All right, Denis, let’s give it a try,” murmured a shy Larissa. “No, not try, Lara. We’ll be together. For good,” Denis squeezed her hand. “Do you hear me? Forever.” When Helen learned his plans, all she could say was: “You’ve really outdone yourself this time… The plainest girl of them all…” …Nine months later, their daughter was born—a child with Down’s syndrome. Denis felt both joy and worry for Larissa. Would she cope? Having a child with special needs is never easy. …Today, Denis and Larissa’s daughter is eight. The whole family adores her. Denis worships Larissa. Bittersweet, but happiness…
BITTERSWEET JOY What is it you dont like about this young lady? Shes a lovely girl. Polite, tidy, bright enough...
The Postage Stamp: How Illya Left Katya for Another Woman, Katya Swore Revenge on All Men, and Daughter Sonia Discovered the Secret of Real Love
A POSTAGE STAMP Toms left Emily, Mum sighs heavily. What do you mean? Im confused. Im baffled myself. He was...
A Lifetime with My One True Wife: Love, Patience, Broken Porcelain, and the Bittersweet Legacy of a Brother’s Secret Regret
MY OWN WIFE How have you managed to stay with the same wife all these years? Whats the secret? My...
A Husband Worth More Than Bitter Resentment: From Loss and Iron-Selling to New Love, Second Chances, and Family Turmoil – My English Tale of Marriage, Heartbreak, and Hope
MY HUSBAND IS WORTH MORE THAN BITTER RESENTMENT Henry, that was the final straw! Were getting a divorce. No need...
A Christmas Eve Miracle: How Paul Forgot His Daughter’s Gift, Adopted a Kitten, and Found the True Spirit of the New Year
A Christmas Eve Miracle Tom, can you please explain how you managed to forget? Sarah looked at me with a...
Broken by Nagging: The Night Stepan Finally Let His Tears Fall – A Village Story of a Silent Man, a Demanding Wife and Mother-in-Law, and the Healing Power of a Kind Word
So, listen, Ive got to tell you about something that happened a while back stuck with me, honestly. This bloke...