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З життя45 хвилин ago

His Wife Packed Her Bags and Disappeared Without a Trace: When Family Becomes a Battlefield of Control, Betrayal, and Hard Choices

The wife packed her things and disappeared in an unknown direction “Stop acting like a martyr. It’ll all settle down....

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З життя58 хвилин ago

A Child for a Friend When Lily was in her final months of pregnancy, her younger brother left home, and her father started drinking heavily, turning Lily’s life into a living hell. Every morning, Lily would air out the house, clear empty bottles from under the table, and wait for her father to wake up. “Dad, you can’t drink! You barely survived a stroke.” “I’ll drink if I want, who’ll stop me? It’s the only way to numb the pain.” “What pain?” “The pain of knowing no one needs me. Not even you—I’m a burden to you, Lily. My life’s worthless, my marriage was a mistake, and all I passed on to my kids was weakness and poverty. I’m better off drinking.” Already in low spirits, Lily got annoyed. “That’s not true, Dad. Life can be much worse for other people.” “How much worse, Lily? You grew up without a mother. Now you’re about to bring a child into poverty, and she’ll grow up without a father.” “It’s not all gloom, Dad. Life can change overnight…” She sadly remembered how happy she once was, planning to marry Ilya. Yes, her world had fallen apart—but life had to go on. That day, her father got drunk again. In anger, Lily shouted, “Did you drink the money I’d set aside? How did you even find it? You’ve turned the place upside down looking for my things!” “Everything in this house belongs to me,” her father retorted. “Including the pension you try to hide from me—my pension!” “And you drank it all away? Did you even think about how we’re supposed to live now?” “Why should I care? I’m ill. You’re grown, now you look after me!” Lily searched through the cupboards. “I know there were two packs of pasta and some butter yesterday. Now they’re gone! What are we supposed to eat for dinner?” Shocked, she sank into a chair, covering her face with her hands. How could she know that Aunt Natasha had taken to coming over, plying her father with drink, and cleaning out the house while Lily was gone? Natasha had slipped into their house like a snake, determined to destroy what was left of their family. Lily cried herself to sleep that night, exhausted, hungry, and defeated. In the morning, there was a knock at the door. Natasha Anatolievna walked in, dressed in her best coat and heeled boots, not bothering to remove them as she marched into the house. “Morning. My friend in council services tells me you’re behind on the bills and may have your electricity cut off soon. What’s going on, Lily? Fancy making me a cuppa?” Without waiting for an answer, Natasha started rifling through cupboards and the fridge. “I’ll make the tea, you’re pregnant—just like my own daughter, Sophie… You’ve no sugar, no tea, nothing at all. Let’s go shopping.” Lily avoided looking at her. “Aunt Natasha, I can’t offer you tea. It’s better if you leave.” But Natasha wouldn’t be turned away. “You’ve really got problems, haven’t you? Remember what I said—move in with me. I’m not suggesting, I’m insisting. There’s no place here for a baby, your father’s a drunk, you haven’t even got any food! Let’s go, pack your things, you’re coming with me.” Feeling dizzy, Lily sat down, tears rolling down her cheeks. Natasha hugged her. “Listen, love, I know how you feel about me. You’ve never forgiven me for what my daughter did, stealing your fiancé. But I can’t watch you suffer like this. Want it or not, I’ll look after you.” What followed felt like a dream: Natasha helped Lily pack, called a taxi, and off they went. *** On the day Lily went into labour, Natasha Anatolievna never left her side. “Listen carefully, Lily. I’ve already told the hospital staff you want to give the baby up. When she’s born, don’t hold her, don’t look at her, don’t breastfeed.” Lily grimaced in pain. “Aunt Natasha, I don’t care anymore. I just want this over with…” “Don’t forget what I said—you can’t manage this baby on your own. I’ve found a lovely couple ready to adopt her the moment she’s born.” A few hours later, Lily gave birth to a baby girl. “Three kilos three hundred, healthy, everything’s fine,” the nurse announced, wrapping up the wailing baby and whisking her away without showing Lily. But the paediatrician gave Lily a stern look. “What’s this? You have a healthy, beautiful daughter, and you won’t even look at her? Elena, bring the baby back and give her to her mother.” Lily shook her head, upset. “I don’t want to. I’ve got nothing—I didn’t even want this pregnancy… There are people who need her more. I’ll sign the forms; she’ll be adopted…” “Don’t be ridiculous—at least look at your child.” Lily squeezed her eyes shut, but then felt something soft and warm brush her hand. The nurse laid the baby beside her, who began rooting blindly, mouth open. At last, Lily looked at her daughter. The tiny, helpless baby regarded her through half-closed eyes, fumbling for Lily’s chest with her little fists. “Come on, Mum, feed your baby,” the paediatrician smiled, brightening as she saw Lily tremble with emotion. “She’s beautiful, she needs you—not some strangers. Understand?” Lily burst into tears, pulling her daughter close and nodding. For two hours, she lay next to her baby, unable to look away—even for a second. That’s when her mother’s instincts awoke. “Here’s my reason to live—my daughter. Doesn’t matter if Ilya’s gone, or if my dad’s a mess… My daughter needs me. So I’ll stay with her.” *** Lily was roused by Natasha’s voice. Natasha Anatolievna, wrapped in a dressing gown, stood at her bedside. “Did you forget our agreement?” she whispered. “You promised you’d give up the baby. I’ve lined up people ready to take her right now.” “Natasha Anatolievna, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not giving her to anyone.” “But you have nothing! Nowhere to go, no money—how will you provide for this child?” “I’ll go home. I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll manage somehow.” Lily watched Natasha’s face twist into a snarl. “Have you lost your mind? You’ll end up begging on the streets!” The baby in the cot awoke to Natasha’s shouting. Lily got up and reached for her. “Don’t touch! I’ll rock her and give her a bottle. We’ll just tell the nurses you can’t breastfeed,” Natasha declared. Lily shook her head. “You have no say in this, she’s my daughter. I said I’m keeping her!” “You can’t! You promised!” Natasha cried, helplessly. “Leave.” Natasha left. Lily’s roommate quietly lifted her head. “Who was that?” “My aunt.” “Blimey. Don’t listen to her—you did the right thing. I’m Lisa. I can help, if you ever need anything. There are good people in the world.” “I’m Lily.” “Nice to meet you. You know, I think that woman wanted to snatch your baby. She’s strange, that one…” *** Just before discharge, Lily had another visitor—her ex-friend Sophie, heavy with child. “Hey,” Sophie mumbled. Lily gingerly sat down beside her. “I heard you had your baby.” “Yeah. A girl.” Sophie glanced away. “Thing is, Mum’s got a family ready to adopt your baby.” “So?” “They’re lovely people, rich—willing to pay a fortune.” Sophie grabbed Lily’s hand. “They’re offering you a hundred thousand. You could buy a flat, or put down a deposit on a house!” “A hundred thousand? Well, if you care so much, why not sell your own baby to them?” Lily replied coldly. Sophie pouted, but kept clutching Lily’s sleeve. “Wait, Lily. Give the baby to me! I’ll care for her—she’s Ilya’s daughter, after all.” “You think you can cope with two kids?” “You don’t get it, Lily! My marriage is falling apart!” Lily stood, ready to leave. Sophie grabbed at her, wild-eyed. “I need this baby, Lily!” “Let go.” A few hours later, Ilya himself burst in. Lily flinched. “You had the baby? Can I see her?” “No! You’ve soon got Sophie’s baby to see—go look at her!” “We need to talk, Lily. Since you gave birth, I haven’t had a minute’s peace. I want to take my daughter. Give her up, and I promise I’ll adopt her straight away.” Lily shook her head firmly. “I’m not like you—I’ll never give up someone who needs me. You’re wasting your time, I’m not handing her over!” He wouldn’t leave. “Give me the baby! You had no right to have my child! I’ll take her anyway—she’s mine!” “You? Mummy’s boy? Ask your mum’s permission first!” Lily pushed past him, scooped up her daughter and went to find the nurse. “Can I ask you not to let anyone else in? I don’t want to see anyone. It’s like a circus in here!” Epilogue On the day she was discharged, Lily left the maternity hospital, holding her daughter close. She wasn’t alone—her roommate Lisa was being discharged too, greeted by her husband and mother. Lily paused on the steps, spotting the Reznikovs’ car. Out stepped Ilya’s mother, Valerie Jacobs, scrutinising Lily with cold eyes. A chill crept down Lily’s spine. Her would-be mother-in-law looked like a wolf preparing to pounce. Lisa joined her. “Who’s that, Lily?” “Ilya’s parents.” “Looks like they’re lying in wait for you. Honestly, Lily, the way they’re all after you creeps me out. Something’s not right. Didn’t I say you can stay with me and my mum? Let’s go.” Lily nodded. She, too, felt a strange unease. *** Staying with new friends, Lily unexpectedly found love. Lisa’s cousin Ivan, a confirmed bachelor, began courting her. Ivan turned out to be kind and good-hearted. He married Lily, adopted her daughter, and even helped her father. As for Sophie and Ilya, their marriage crumbled. It turned out Sophie had faked her pregnancy with a prosthetic bump, fooling the entire Reznikov family. Natasha Anatolievna, desperate to protect her daughter, owned up to her son-in-law: Sophie had miscarried in early pregnancy, and Natasha had hatched a “perfect” plan. “Ilya, don’t blame my daughter. Yes, she lost the baby—but you’re hardly innocent either. You’ll soon have a child elsewhere. Why not take Lily’s baby as your own? Adopt her, she’s your blood. We’ll pretend Sophie’s pregnant, and, when Lily gives birth, we’ll take her baby and tell everyone Sophie had her.” Ilya liked the plan. All would have worked, had Lily not “rebelled,” refusing to give up her newborn and trapping her former friend and Natasha. Ilya’s mother, Valerie Jacobs, furious at the deception, threw Sophie out and made Ilya file for divorce.
З життя2 години ago

A Carer for the Wife — “What do you mean?” Lida thought she’d misheard. “Where am I supposed to move out to? Why? For what reason?” — “Oh, let’s not have a scene, alright?” He grimaced. “What’s not clear here? There’s no one left for you to care for. Where you go is no concern of mine.” — “Ed, what are you talking about? Weren’t we supposed to get married?..” — “That’s what you came up with. I never promised anything like that.” At 32, Lida decided it was time for a drastic change and to leave her little English village behind. What was left for her there? To keep listening to her mother’s nagging? Her mum just wouldn’t let it go, always bringing up the divorce—how could Lida let her husband slip away? And that Vas—he was never worth a kind word anyway—always drinking and running around! How did she ever manage to marry him eight years ago? Lida didn’t even feel upset when the divorce happened—on the contrary, she actually felt as though she could finally breathe. But she and her mother were always at loggerheads over it. And over money too—there just never seemed to be enough. So Lida decided she’d head to the local city centre and sort her life out there! Take her school friend Sally—she’d been married for five years to a widower. So what if he’s sixteen years older, and not much to look at, at least he’s got his own place and a bit of money. And Lida was every bit as good as Sally! — “Well, thank goodness! You’ve come to your senses!” Sally cheered her on. “Get packing, you can crash with us to start, and we’ll sort you out with a job.” — “Are you sure your Pete won’t mind?” Lida asked doubtfully. — “Oh please! He does whatever I ask! Don’t worry, we’ll be just fine!” Still, Lida didn’t want to overstay her welcome. She stayed for a couple of weeks until she’d earned enough for a room of her own. Then, only a couple of months later, luck finally smiled on her. — “Why is a woman like you selling vegetables at the market?” asked a regular customer, Mr. Edward Byrne, with a hint of sympathy. Lida knew all her regulars by name now. — “It’s cold, it’s miserable—I’m just trying to get by.” She joked, “Unless you’ve got a better offer?” Edward Byrne hardly looked like the man of her dreams—a good twenty years older than her, jowly, balding, with sharp eyes. He always chose his vegetables carefully and paid down to the last penny—but dressed smartly and drove a nice car, so he was no down-and-out drunk. He also wore a wedding ring, so husband material he definitely was not. — “I can see you’re a responsible, no-nonsense, clean sort,” Edward shifted to first names easily, “Ever cared for a sick person before?” — “I have, actually. I cared for a neighbour who had a stroke. Her kids live miles away and couldn’t be bothered. So they asked me.” — “Perfect!” said Edward, putting on a mournful face. “My wife, Tamara, had a stroke too. The doctors say she’s unlikely to recover. I’ve brought her home but don’t have time to care for her. Can you help? I’ll pay good money.” Lida didn’t have to think twice. Anything was better than freezing for ten hours at the market dealing with picky shoppers! Besides, Edward offered her a room—no more rent! — “There are three separate rooms! You could play football in there!” she told Sally happily. “No kids or anything.” Tamara’s mother was a real character too—at 68 still trying to look 40, recently remarried, always busy with her new husband. No one to care for her sick daughter. — “Is she really that ill?” Sally asked. — “Not much hope I’m afraid—she’s bedridden and just moans. She probably won’t get better.” — “And you’re happy about that?” Sally shot a look at her. — “No, of course not,” Lida glanced away, “but Edward might be free someday…” — “You serious, Lida? Wishing someone dead over a flat?” — “I’m not wishing anything! I just won’t miss my chance. Easy for you to judge—you’ve got everything perfect!” They fell out then, and for half a year didn’t speak—until Lida finally confided things had turned romantic with Edward. They couldn’t live without each other, but of course he’d never leave his wife—not his style. So for now things had to stay as they were. — “So you’re playing happy families while his wife’s dying in the next room?” Sally scolded. “Do you even see how awful that is? Or are you only blinded by his supposed riches?” — “You never have a kind word for me!” Lida snapped. And once again they stopped speaking. Still, Lida hardly felt guilty (well, maybe just a little). Everyone’s so holy! The well-fed can’t understand the hungry, after all. Never mind—she’d make it on her own. She cared for Tamara with real dedication. Since her romance with Edward began, she took on every other household task too. After all, a man needed more than just warmth in bed—he needed good meals, shirts washed and ironed, floors mopped. Edward seemed perfectly content, and so was Lida. In fact, she’d almost failed to notice he’d stopped paying her for caring for his wife altogether. But why fuss about money—they were almost husband and wife by now! He gave her money for food and a bit extra, and she kept track of the budget—not noticing it barely covered basics. His salary was sizeable, but never mind—once they were married, it’d all get sorted. Their passion faded over time, and Edward didn’t hurry home these days, but Lida blamed his tiredness from having a sick wife. Why he was tired, she couldn’t say—he barely popped in to see Tamara once a day—but she felt for him. Lida still wept when Tamara died, though it was hardly unexpected. After all, she’d given a year and a half to that woman—it’s not like that time just vanished. Lida organised the funeral—Edward was stricken with grief. He gave her just enough money for it, but Lida made sure everything was decent. No one could criticise her. Even the neighbours, who’d always shot her dirty looks for her affair with Edward—nothing escapes them—even they nodded at the funeral. The mother-in-law was pleased too. Lida never expected what Edward hit her with next. — “As you can imagine, I’ve no further need of your services, so I’m giving you a week to move out,” he told her dryly, ten days after the funeral. — “What do you mean?” Lida thought she’d misheard. “Where am I supposed to go? Why?” — “Oh, please, spare the drama,” he replied coldly. “You’ve got no one left to look after. Where you go’s your problem.” — “Ed, what’s this? Weren’t we getting married?..” — “That was all in your head. I never promised anything.” The next morning after a sleepless night, Lida tried again, but Edward just repeated himself and insisted she leave soon. — “My fiancée wants to renovate before the wedding,” Edward revealed. — “Fiancée? Who?” — “None of your business.” — “Oh, it’s not, is it?! I’ll leave, but you’ll pay me for my work. Listen here! You promised £1,000 a month. I only got it twice. You owe me £16,000.” — “Look at you, quick with numbers!” he mocked. “Don’t get your hopes up…” — “Oh—and there’s extra for being your housekeeper! I’ll let it go for £25,000—then we’ll be done.” — “And if not? Sue me? You’ve not even got a contract.” — “I’ll tell Pamela—you know, your mother-in-law. She bought this flat for you, remember? After my story, you’ll be out on your ear. You know her better than I do.” Edward’s face changed, but he quickly controlled himself. — “Who’ll believe you? Don’t try and scare me. In fact, I want you out now.” — “You’ve got three days, darling. No money—there’ll be fireworks.” Lida packed up and went to a hostel. She’d managed to squirrel away a bit from grocery money. On the fourth day, she still hadn’t heard from him, so she turned up at Edward’s flat. Luckily, Pamela was there too. Lida could tell from Edward’s face he’d never pay up, so she immediately spilled everything to his mother-in-law. — “She’s making things up! Rambling! Don’t listen to her!” cried the widower. — “I heard things at the funeral—didn’t believe them then,” Pamela said coldly. “Now it’s all clear. And you, son-in-law, don’t forget—the deed’s in my name.” Edward froze. — “I don’t want to see you here in a week. No, make that three days.” Pamela hesitated by the door, then turned to Lida. — “And you, dear, what are you waiting for? A medal? Leave!” Lida bolted from the flat. No chance of seeing any money now. She’d have to return to the market—there’s always work there… **The Carer for the Wife: When Lida Leaves Her Village for a Second Chance, Only to Find Herself Out on the Street After Her Employer’s Wife Dies**
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Shutting the Door on Our Own Daughter — “Why didn’t you let her in?” Veronica finally asked the question that haunted her most. “You used to always let her in…” Her mother gave a bitter smile. “Because I’m scared for you, Nicky. Do you think we don’t see the way you hide in the corner when your sister barges in at night? The way you hide your textbooks so she won’t ruin them? She looks at you and gets angry. Angry because you’re normal. Because you have a different future ahead of you, but she’s drowned hers in a bottle…” Veronica hunched over her open textbook, flinching as yet another row kicked off in the next room. Her father didn’t even take off his coat—he stood in the hallway, phone in hand, shouting into it. “Don’t try and fob me off!” he roared. “Where’s it all gone then? Two weeks after payday, Larissa! Two!” Tatiana peered out from the kitchen. 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Came Home Early: A Heavily Pregnant Wife Surprises Her Husband, but Instead of a Warm Welcome, She’s Sent Shopping for Beef and Left Waiting on the Street While He Cleans the Flat

Returned Home Early Tuesday, 7th March Are you at the bus stop? Toms voice shot up sharply on the phone....
З життя14 години ago

The Carer for the Wife — What do you mean? — Lida thought she must have misheard. — Where am I supposed to go? Why? What for? — Oh, can we just skip the dramatics, please? — he grimaced. — What’s not clear here? There’s no one left for you to take care of. Where you go is none of my concern. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? Weren’t we planning to get married…? — That was your idea. I never said any such thing. At 32, Lida decided to turn her life around and leave her small hometown. What was left for her there? Endure her mother’s nagging? Her mother simply couldn’t stop scolding Lida about the divorce, constantly asking how she managed to “lose” her husband. Yet Vas’ka wasn’t worth a kind word—drunk and a womaniser! How did she end up marrying him all those eight years ago? Lida wasn’t at all upset about the divorce—in fact, she felt she could finally breathe again. But she argued constantly with her mum about it, and they also fought about money, which was always in short supply. So, she’d head off to the county town and land a great job there! Look at Svetka—her old school friend—she’d been married for five years to a widower. Who cares if he’s 16 years older and hardly a heartthrob, at least he has a flat and a decent income. And Lida reckoned she was just as good as Svetka! — Well, thank heavens! You’ve come to your senses! — Svetka encouraged her. — Pack your things, you can stay with us for a bit, and we’ll sort out the job situation. — Won’t your Vadim Petrovich mind? — Lida was unsure. — Don’t be silly! He does whatever I ask! Don’t worry, we’ll get by! Still, Lida didn’t want to stay long at her friend’s place. After just a couple of weeks and her first wages, she rented her own room. And just a couple of months later, she had a stroke of luck. — Why is a woman like you working in the market? — said one of her regulars, Edward Boris, with concern. Lida knew all her regulars by name by now. — It’s cold, it’s hard work—not ideal. — Gotta earn money somehow, — she shrugged, — unless you have another offer? Edward Boris wasn’t exactly a dreamboat in her eyes—twenty years older, a bit pudgy, starting to bald, and with a shrewd look in his eye. He was always particular about choosing his vegetables and paid to the penny. But he dressed well and drove a nice car—definitely not a down-and-out, not a drunk. He also had a wedding ring, so she never considered him as husband material. — You strike me as responsible, steady, and clean, — Edward Boris switched to a familiar tone, — have you ever cared for anyone who was ill? — I used to look after a neighbour, actually. She had a stroke, her children live far away, so they paid me to help. — That’s great! — he exclaimed, and then put on a somber face: — My wife, Tamara, has had a stroke too. The doctors say she has little chance of recovery. I’ve brought her home, but I haven’t got time to look after her. Will you help? I’ll pay you properly. Lida didn’t have to think long—much better to be in a warm flat changing bedpans than freezing on the market for ten hours a day serving picky customers! He even suggested she live there, so no more rent. — They’ve got three spare rooms! You could play football in there! — she delightedly told her friend. — No children either. Tamara’s mother was a real madam—even at 68, she acted half her age. She’d just remarried and was busy with her husband. No one else to care for the invalid. — Is she really that sick? — Oh yes, poor thing can’t move or speak. She won’t get better. — You almost sound happy about it, — Svetka eyed her. — Of course not, — Lida looked down, — but once Tamara’s gone, Edward Boris would be free… — Are you for real, Lida? Wishing someone dead for a flat?! — I’m not wishing anyone dead—I’m just not going to miss my chance! Easy for you to say, you’ve got it made! They had a huge fight and didn’t speak for half a year—until Lida confessed to Svetka her romance with Edward Boris. They couldn’t live without each other, but of course, he’d never leave his wife—not that type! So for now, she’d remain his lover. — So you’re shacking up with him while his wife is dying in the next room? — her friend was appalled. — Do you even see how vile that is? Or are you that blinded by his money—if he’s even got it? — Trust you to never say a kind word, — Lida retorted. They stopped talking again, but she barely felt guilty—well, perhaps just a bit. She cared for Tamara with real diligence, and since her affair with Edward Boris began, she took on all the housework too. After all, a man needs more than just a woman in his bed—he wants a good meal, crisp shirts, a clean flat. Lida thought her lover was very content, and she was enjoying her life too. She barely noticed Edward had stopped paying her for caring for his wife. Not that it mattered now—they were almost like husband and wife! He gave her money for shopping, and she managed the budget, not realising it was tight. And his job paid well enough—but never mind, once they got married it would all become clear. With time, the spark between them dulled, and Edward lingered less at home, but Lida put it down to the strain of having a sick wife. She pitied him, even though he barely spent a minute a day checking on Tamara. Even so, Lida wept when Tamara finally passed away. She’d given a year and a half of her life to that woman—you can’t get that time back. She organised the funeral too—Edward was “too grief-stricken.” He gave her the bare minimum for expenses, but she did everything properly. No one could accuse her of a thing. Even the neighbours, gossiping about her and Edward—nothing escapes them!—nodded approvingly at the funeral. His mother-in-law too seemed satisfied. So Lida never expected what Edward said next. — You understand there’s no need for your services anymore, so I’m giving you a week to move out, — he said on the tenth day after the funeral. — What do you mean? — Lida’s voice faltered. — Where should I go? Why? — Please, do we have to have this scene? — he sighed. — There’s no one left for you to care for, and where you go is none of my business. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? We were supposed to get married… — That’s your fantasy. I never said anything of the sort. Next morning, after a sleepless night, Lida tried to talk again, but he just repeated the same words and urged her to move quickly. — My fiancée wants to renovate before the wedding, — was all he said. — Fiancée? Who’s that? — None of your business. — Oh, none of my business?! Well, I’ll move out, but you’ll pay me for my work first. You were meant to pay forty grand a month. I only got paid twice. So you owe me £8,000. — You can do the sums, can’t you! — he snorted. — Don’t get carried away… — And you owe for cleaning too! I won’t nit-pick, just pay me ten grand and we’ll call it even. — Or what? You’ll go to court? There’s no contract. — I’ll tell Tamila—remember, your mother-in-law owns this flat. Edward’s face changed, but he recovered quickly. — Who’d believe you? — he huffed. — You know what? I don’t want to see you. Get out now. — You’ve got three days, darling. No ten grand, and there’ll be a scandal, — Lida replied, heading for a cheap hostel. She’d managed to save some of the housekeeping money. On the fourth day, having had no answer, Lida went back to the flat. Tamila, the mother-in-law, was there. Lida could see from Edward’s face she’d never get paid. So she told Tamila everything. — She’s making it all up! Don’t listen! — the widower protested. — Well, well, I’d heard rumours at the funeral, but I didn’t believe them — Tamila’s stare was fierce. — Now it all makes sense. And you, my dear son-in-law, don’t forget who owns this flat? Edward froze. — So, I want you out of here within the week. No—within three days. Tamila turned to leave, then paused at Lida. — And you, standing there like you expect a prize? Get out! Lida bolted from the flat, realising there’d be no money for her—not now. Back to the market again; there’d always be work there… **The Carer’s Devotion: Betrayal Behind Closed Doors in Suburban England**

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