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Changed His Mind About Getting Married Late Nights, Duck Soup, and Dodgy In-Laws: Archibald’s Hilariously Calamitous Engagement Journey—from the Lab Bench to a Village Showdown with his Fiancée’s Outrageous Mum and Ducky Domestic Dramas
Changed His Mind About Marriage
Archibald was often the last to leave the laboratory, pouring solutions from one test tube to another and examining mysterious powders well into the night.
He held fast to the hope that, with enough determination, his efforts would soon yield results. Then, at last, he could present his discovery, extracted from the roots of a rare plant, to the masses.
The fervour with which Archibald, who had just turned forty, threw himself into research meant he simply didnt notice the lingering, hopeful glances from young Sophie, the new cleaning lady at the institute.
Driven by the dream of scientific success, Archibald barely acknowledged that Sophie had begun to hover in his office, absentmindedly holding her mop and gazing at him unwaveringlyso much so she’d forget her own work.
At last, one evening, gathering all her courage, Sophie spoke up:
“Mr. Goodwin, she said, youve been sitting there in the same spot since this morning. Would you like a nice cup of tea? Ive brought my portable kettle. And Ive got some homemade sausage rolls too.”
At the mention of sausage rolls, Archibald glanced up from his beakers and rose from his seat.
Teas always welcome, he said. With sausage rolls, you say? Well, you wont hear me say no to that.
Thrilled, Sophie fumbled in her rucksack and eventually unearthed her kettle and a Tupperware box of homemade food.
Mum sent me off with homemade mince yesterday. I stuffed and baked these sausage rolls last night,” she explained, proudly setting the container on the table.
Lets see then, Archibald muttered, pulling out his specs to peer into the transparent tub as the kettle boiled.
Just to checkhow long has this box of food been in your bag? he asked politely.
Sophie hesitated and shrugged. Oh, since this morning, I expect. Why?
And the lid, was it as tightly sealed as it is now?
Yes why? Is it spoiled already? Surely not, the staff locker rooms freezingno heating on yet.
Archibald weighed his doubt. Alright, lets just have the tea. Maybe best if you take this home for supper.
Sophie, whod spent her whole evening preparing the sausage rolls, bristled and snatched away the tub.
Archibald could see by her furrowed brow that she wasnt joking.
No, dont open! he cried, waving his arms and backing away, handkerchief at his nose.
But Sophie popped the lid, sniffed, and announced, It smells fine. You city folk always imagine the worst. You dont want any? Suits me, more for me.
She set the food loudly on the table and began pouring the tea.
Archibald took a tentative seat. The hot tea warmed him as he watched Sophie tuck into the sausage rolls.
Is that beef? he asked.
She nodded, mouth full.
Looks good. And, well, it smells delicious.
Archibalds mouth watered despite himself. After all, science offered little comfort to an empty stomach.
He sighed and murmured, You know, guidelines say staff rooms shouldnt be warmer than twenty-two degrees, so theoretically, no nasty microorganisms
What? Sophie interrupted, eyebrow raised.
He noticed a glistening spot of fat on her chin, another on her nose.
Smells hearty, he mused. Probably worried over nothing.
But the sensible side of him argued back: Now, Archibald, you know its unwise to eat food with unknown storage. And she doesnt seem the sort to worry about kitchen safety. Still, the aromagoodness, its tempting.
So, torn between science and appetite, he sipped his tea while his stomach quietly growled.
But then, as if taken over by some other force, his hand reached for the rolls. One bite, and the pastry gave beneath his teeth.
Mmm, thats marvellous. Who made these?
I told you, I did, Sophie stammered, a happy blush in her cheek.
Archibald kept eating, eyes closed in culinary bliss.
Im speechless.
Ecstatic, Sophie wiped her mouth on her apron, then dabbed her eyes.
See? Not spoiled at all! Ive been baking since I was little. I know what Im doing.
***
To thank her for the meal, Archibald insisted on walking Sophie to the bus stop.
They chatted. To his surprise, Sophie was barely twenty-three. So youngpractically a daughter to him. The bus was late; they waited together in the chilly night air.
Ill bring you biscuits tomorrow, she said shyly. Homemade, not from a shop. Do you prefer carrot or cottage cheese ones?
I like both.
Ill bring two kinds, then.
Incredibly, Archibald found himself counting the hours until tomorrow, his formulas and calculations momentarily forgotten. That night, he dreamedmost embarrassinglyof Sophie unbuttoning her blouse, exposing her milky shoulder.
He awoke with burning cheeks. Forty years and Ive never so much as looked at a woman, and now, of all times
Part II
Before meeting Sophies family, Archibald was anxious. As the taxi bumped over country lanes, he nervously smoothed his thinning hair, hoping to hide his growing bald patch.
The night before, Sophie had rested his head in her lap and patiently plucked his grey hairs with tweezers.
He had shaved meticulously, donned his smartest suit, tied his tie, dabbed on cologne.
Sophie pressed her cheek to his, purring like a contented cat.
Youll be fine, she comforted him. Mums understanding, and my stepdad agrees with everyone.
How olds your mother? Archibald asked.
Forty-five.
Well, Im forty Do you think shell approve?
Shell come around. If she makes a fuss, Ill just say Im expecting your child.
Lets not start our life together off on the wrong foot, Archibald spluttered.
They arrived at last. Archibald clung to his cap as the wind tried to rip it away.
It was winter, and the snowdrifts were taller than anything hed ever seen outside London.
As Archibald looked around in disbelief, Sophie paid the driver, grabbed their bags, and strode into the yard.
Hed only ever seen such houses in paintings: a sagging roof of mossy slate, soot-blackened brick chimney with a battered iron pan for a cowl.
The heavy, draught-blocked door groaned. Inside, the rickety boards were patched with old rugs and rough whitewash covered the warped cottage walls.
Lord above, thought Archibald, how can anyone live in such a tumble-down shack?
He convinced himself Sophie must be joking or perhaps this was some sort of guesthouse or fishing hut. Surely no one actually lived here.
But when Sophie whispered for him to take off his shoes and steered him into a tiny sitting room, he realised it was all quite real.
A woman in a thick flannel dressing gown stood waiting.
Mum, this is Archibaldmy fiancé! Sophie beamed. Ive told you about him on the phone.
A chilly silence filled the room.
Hello, the woman muttered, scanning Archibald from top to toe. Something in her tone didnt bode well.
You must be joking. How old are you? she demanded.
Archibald swallowed. Archibald Goodwin. Your daughter and I both work at the same laboratory
I said, how old are you? she pressed, voice rising.
Forty.
And my Sophie is twenty-three! Youre twice her age!
Look, yes, Im older, but I love your daughter. I have a good job, a flat in the city, and a house in the country
You havent even got a car!
No, my eyesights not great, but buying a carwell, if thats important, I could teach Sophie to drive
Oh, I see, hoping to turn my poor Sophie into a domestic slave! Do you take me for a fool? We abolished servitude ages ago! her mother snapped.
Archibald protested, Thats unfair! Listen, I want to marry Sophie properly. Well have a church wedding, raise a familyI promise to treat her well!
Sophies stepfather entered, beaming warmth and charm despite the tension.
Lovely to meet you! he greeted Archibald, exuding effortless friendliness.
He looked scarcely thirty: slim, attractive, with a fresh, boyish face, curly dark hair, and bright eyes. Archibald couldnt help but notice how much younger he seemed.
Andrew, spare me! I will not give my daughter to some old scoundrel! snapped Sophies mother.
Mum! Sophie gasped, How can you say that? Im leaving with him!
Not if I can help it!
A shouting match ensued, which Archibald desperately wanted to avoid.
He gently untangled his fingers from Sophies and moved quietly towards the door.
Sophie, forgive me. We cant go against your mothers wishes, he said.
So she can boss me around, kick me out for being in her way while she cosies up to her toy-boy? Sophie burst out.
Mind yourself! Andrew barked.
Keep out of it! Sophies mother snapped even louder.
Chaos descended.
Archibald shrunk, edging for the exit. A stool nearly grazed his head on the way out.
Dear Lord, deliver me! he muttered as he bolted from the unfriendly home, dashing through the frost-bitten night in search of a taxi, a train, any means of escape.
The stress weighed on his chest, surely driving up his blood pressure.
Why did I ever agree to this madhouse? he groaned. I could be in my warm lab right now!
He fumbled for his phone, only to discoverno signal, of course.
Worn out, he circled back, recognising the strange old cottage by its blackened pot.
He was startled to find peace had settled. The door creaked; Sophie stepped outside with her bags.
“Archie, are you here? I was so afraid you’d gone for good.”
“Just needed some air,” he fibbed, stamping his frozen feet.
If Mum wont bless our marriage, then Im leaving her, announced Sophie.
Archibald stood in silence. His city brogues were useless for trudging through snow; his feet went numb.
Suddenly, the whole adventure lost its charm. Was Sophie really the right person for him after all?
Sophies mother emerged, wrapped in a sheepskin coat and wellies, towering proud.
Since you dont honour me, girl, go on then! Hes your problem now.
Sophie replied, Better him than living with you. Archies a good man. Please, just order us a taxi.
No chance, her mother retorted. Hes yours to look after, Im through.
Sophie nudged Archibald. Darling, do something.
I canttheres no signal. Try asking the neighbours to ring a taxi, he suggested, his energy all but gone.
Then, the cold and fear finally overwhelmed him; he collapsed.
“Archie! Whats happening?” Sophie screamed so loudly the village must have heard.
“Its just my head shouldnt have come here to die. I want to go home,” he whispered.
A local nurse soon arrived and injected him with something, bringing him back to his senses.
There, lie down and rest, she commanded. Blood pressure through the roof. You mustn’t get upset.
“Never was, until today,” he groaned.
Sophies mothers face flickered through his thoughts: And sickly too! she sneered.
Sophie fussed, bringing him hot tea.
The nurse gathered up her bag. Can you take me with you? Archibald asked.
Where to? Im not with the ambulanceI live in this village.
Sophie gazed into his eyes. Please dont run off. Mums agreed to forgive us. Its over.
But Archibald, his hope and love both frozen now, was already plotting his escape.
Thats your decision, not mine, he thought. If I get out of here alive, Ill steer well clear of marriage. Or women, for that matter.
***
Archibald finished his shift, wiping his hands.
Im done. You can clock off too, he told his assistant. Im closing up.
The lab assistant, a timid woman of thirty-two, blushed, adjusting her thick glasses.
Ive brought cake. Care for a slice over tea? she offered.
No! he said abruptly. This is work, not a tea room!
But our shift ended half an hour ago, she protested gently.
I said go home! Archibald snapped.
The smile vanished from her face as she collected her things, whispering under her breath, What a nutter, as she left.
Archibald locked the door with relief and hurried home.
He arrived promptly at eight oclock.
Sophie opened the door upon hearing the key click.
Evening, Mr Goodwin.
Whats for supper? he asked, not meeting her eye.
Duck soup and potato dumplings.
Lovely. Im famished. Keep a note of what the groceries cost, Ill add it to your pay at the end of the month.
He took off his shoes, washed up, and went to the kitchen.
Sophie hovered beside him. Are you still upset about Mum? Shes explainedshe just panicked, thinking a respected scientist like you wouldnt marry me. She was just trying to make me seem worth more. Sophie tried a weak laugh. Silly woman, honestly. But I still love you.
Archibald stirred his soup, agitated, unable to enjoy his meal.
Was it the family row that put you off? Happens all the time, we fall out and make upits never dull! We might have gone too far, but thats all.
Archibald stood, guided Sophie firmly to the door, handed her her bag.
Its late. Go on home. No need to come tomorrowIll manage on leftover dumplings. Come back the day after.
He closed the door on her tear-stained face and returned to dinner.
Sometimes, the pursuit of love can turn into a trial by fire, but as Archibald learned, its crucial to know your own heart and not lose yourself in the passions or expectations of others. Sometimes, retreat is wisdomchoosing ones own peace can be the bravest choice of all.
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A Fiancée and a Father Karina only pretended to want to meet Vadim’s parents. Why would she need to bother with them? She wasn’t planning on living with them, and as for his supposedly well-off father, he seemed like nothing but a source of problems and suspicion. Still, if you’re going to play the part, you have to play it to the end—especially when you’ve decided to get married. Karina dressed up, but kept it understated, wanting to come across as the sweet, girl-next-door type. Meeting your future in-laws is always a minefield, but navigating clever and perceptive parents is a true test of character. Vadim believed she just needed some reassurance. “Don’t worry, Karina—seriously, don’t. Dad’s a bit moody, but he’s reasonable. They won’t say anything horrible, and I just know they’ll love you. Mum’s the life of the party, of course, and Dad’s… well, a bit odd,” he said as they stood outside his parents’ house. Karina only smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her shoulder. So, Dad was gruff, Mum was a social butterfly—a classic combination. She stifled an inward laugh. The house held no surprises. She’d been to grander ones before. They were met at the door straight away. Karina felt little anxiety. Why fret over meeting ordinary people? She knew from Vadim that his mum, Nina, was a lifelong housewife, who sometimes went on girly trips but otherwise wasn’t particularly noteworthy. His father, Valery, was reputedly rather dour but at least silent—a mixed blessing. Only his name had sounded oddly familiar… They were greeted… And Karina froze at the threshold. This was the end. She didn’t know her future mother-in-law, but she recognized her future father-in-law in an instant. They’d met before—three years ago. Not many times, but enough, and on mutually agreeable terms. In bars, hotels, restaurants. No one—neither Valery’s wife nor his son—knew about their past. Well, this was a disaster. Valery recognised her too. A flash of something—surprise, alarm, or a deeper, more calculating look—crossed his eyes, but he said nothing. Vadim, blissfully unaware, beamed as he introduced her. “Mum, Dad, this is Karina. My fiancée. I’d have brought her sooner, but she’s just so shy.” Oh dear… Valery offered his hand. His handshake was firm—verging on harsh. “Very pleased to meet you, Karina,” he said, and there was a note in his voice Karina couldn’t immediately decode. Was it anger? A warning? Or something else? Karina wondered how long she had before Valery revealed her past. “It’s a pleasure, Valery,” she replied, matching his tone, doing her best not to give the game away. She squeezed his hand and adrenaline surged. What would happen next? But… nothing. Valery forced a polite smile and even pulled a chair out for her at the table. Maybe he’d bring the drama later… But nothing happened. Then it dawned on Karina—he wouldn’t say anything. If he exposed her, he’d expose himself to his wife. Once she relaxed, the atmosphere was oddly relaxed. Nina told childhood stories about Vadim, while Valery seemed to take a genuine interest in Karina, asking about her job. Ha—he already knew plenty. His subtle irony didn’t bother her anymore. Once or twice he even cracked a joke, and, to her own surprise, Karina laughed. But there were double entendres only she and he understood. For example, while looking at Karina, Valery remarked: “You remind me of a former… colleague. Very clever. She had a knack for handling people—all sorts of people.” Karina didn’t miss a beat. “Everyone has their own talents, Valery.” Vadim, giddy in love, gazed at Karina, oblivious to the undercurrents. He truly loved her. That was perhaps the sweetest—and the saddest—part. For him, anyway. Later, when talk turned to travel, Valery looked at Karina and mused, “I’m fond of quiet places. Somewhere you can sit and think—with a good book, of course. How about you, Karina? Where do you like to go?” He was baiting her. “I prefer crowds and noise—life and energy,” Karina replied coolly. “Although, sometimes too many ears can be dangerous.” For a moment, it seemed Nina noticed something and frowned, but she brushed off the thought. Valery knew Karina wasn’t one who craved peace and quiet. And he knew why. When the evening wrapped up, and they prepared for bed, Valery hugged Vadim. “Take care of her, son. She’s… special.” It sounded both like praise and a warning. Only Karina understood the hidden meaning. She felt the room’s temperature plummet. “Special.” He’d chosen his word carefully. *** That night, when the house fell silent, Karina couldn’t sleep. She lay awake, thinking over this unforeseen encounter and wondering how to navigate her new reality. The future was looking bleak. Karina suspected Valery was just as sleepless as she was—he, over this sudden reckoning; she, over the difficult conversation looming. Everything, really. She got up, threw on her favourite hoodie over top and quietly padded downstairs. She deliberately let her footsteps fall just heavily enough that anyone else awake would notice. She slipped outside to the veranda, anticipating this would lure out Valery. She didn’t have to wait long. “Can’t sleep?” he asked, approaching from behind. “Not tonight,” said Karina. A faint breeze carried Valery’s distinctive cologne. He examined her closely. “What do you want from my son, Karina?” His pleasant mask was gone. “I know what you’re capable of. I know how many men like me you’ve known. And I know you’ve always chased money. You never hid your price—however discreetly stated. Why Vadim?” If he wouldn’t reminisce, she wouldn’t play nice. “I love him, Valery,” she purred. “Why not?” He didn’t buy it. “Love? You? That’s a joke. I know your type, Karina. And I’ll tell Vadim everything. What you did. Who you really are. Think he’ll marry you then?” Karina closed the distance between them, stopping just out of reach. She tilted her head, scrutinizing him as if she hadn’t seen enough already. “Go ahead, Valery. But then your wife will learn our little secret too.” He hesitated. “This isn’t blackmail. It’s equality. If you reveal how we met, you can’t hide what we did. Trust me, I’ll fill in the details.” “It’s not the same…” “Really? Is that what you’ll tell your wife?” Valery froze. Karina’s bluff had succeeded—he realized he was trapped with her in this. “What would you tell her?” “Not just her. Everyone. Vadim, too. I’ll tell them what kind of family man you are, where you really spent your late nights. The whole story. I’ll have nothing left to lose. You want to save your son from me? Try it.” A tough call—getting his son to call things off would trigger his own divorce. “You wouldn’t dare.” “You think I wouldn’t?” Karina scoffed. “You’d dare, but I wouldn’t? Try me—if you don’t tell on me, I won’t tell on you. You know NIna values loyalty above all.” Once, far too drunk, he’d confessed to Karina his guilt about cheating on his faithful wife. Nina would never forgive him—ever. Which meant he really would have to choose. He knew Karina wasn’t bluffing. “Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll keep quiet. And you…. you too. No one says anything. We forget the past.” That’s why Karina hadn’t been worried. He stood to lose much more than she did. “As you wish, Valery.” The next morning, they left Vadim’s family home. Under Valery’s venomous gaze, Karina said goodbye to his wife—who now called her “daughter.” Valery twitched. He longed to warn his son about this scheming bride-to-be, but he couldn’t risk exposing himself. Losing Nina would cost him more than a wife—it would cost him much of his wealth. She’d never leave the marriage empty-handed. And Vadim might never forgive him… Another time, Karina and Vadim stayed another fortnight with his parents. The holiday was in full swing. Valery avoided Karina, claiming endless work. But one day, alone at home, curiosity got the better of him. He decided to snoop through Karina’s handbag. Maybe, just maybe, he’d find leverage. He rummaged through her things—makeup bag, diary, notebook—and then he spotted something blue and white. A pregnancy test. Two clear lines. “I thought my son’s marrying you was a catastrophe,” he muttered, replacing the test. “No, THIS is a catastrophe!” But he hadn’t closed the bag before Karina entered. “Really, Valery, you shouldn’t poke about in a lady’s belongings,” she scolded wryly—though she didn’t seem bothered. Valery didn’t try to hide his snooping. “You’re pregnant by Vadim?” Karina took her bag from him, looked him in the eye and said, “Well, you’ve spoiled the surprise, Valery.” Valery was furious. Now Karina would never leave his son. If he told the truth now—well, that would bring everything crashing down. Now he had to keep silent. Hard as it was to bite his tongue, watching his son walk into a trap. *** Nine months passed… and then six more. Vadim and Karina were raising Alice. Valery did his best to stay away. Out of sight, out of mind. He didn’t consider the child truly his granddaughter. Karina unsettled him—her coldness to Vadim, her shady history. And now, again… Nina decided to visit Vadim and Karina. “Valery, are you coming?” “No. I’ve got a headache.” “Again? You know, I think this might actually be serious.” “It’s just tiredness. You go ahead.” Valery, as ever, played the invalid—migraine, cold, earache, weak legs—always some excuse. He even popped a few pills for effect. He couldn’t bear seeing Karina, but he couldn’t tell the truth either. The evening dragged, interrupted only by his anxious thoughts. He lounged. He read a bit. Eventually, he realised how late it was. Past eleven, and Nina wasn’t home. No answer on the phone. He called Vadim in alarm. “Vadim, is everything okay? Has Nina left already? She’s not home yet.” “Dad, you’re the last person I want to talk to right now.” Click. Valery was about to drive over when, outside, Karina’s car pulled up. Seeing her almost made his knees give way. “What are you doing here? Tell me—what’s happened?” he demanded, shaken. Karina seemed unbothered. She poured herself a glass of his wine, took a sip, then settled in. “Everything’s collapsed.” “What do you mean?” “Our shared disaster. Vadim found old photos of us on the website of a café he was going to book for our anniversary. That party at The Lily, remember? Some blasted photographer uploaded every picture. Vadim’s hit the roof. Your Nina’s threatening divorce. And, well—you got your wish, I’m probably divorcing Vadim too.” Valery stared, replaying the events in his head. That party, those photos… He’d warned them not to take pictures, but who’d have predicted this? He sank onto the floor beside her. “So why come to me?” “I needed to get out for the evening.” Karina smiled. “It’s chaos at home. Alice is with the nanny. Want some wine?” She offered him his own bottle. They sat on the veranda, drinking. Only the hum of crickets united them. “This is all your fault,” Valery muttered. Karina nodded, eyes on her glass. “Yup.” “You’re insufferable.” “That’s true.” “You don’t even pity Vadim.” “I do—but I pity myself more.” “You only love yourself.” “I won’t deny it.” He reached out, lifted her chin, made her look at him. “You know I never loved you,” he whispered. Karina shrugged. “I believe you.” *** In the morning, when Nina finally arrived—ready to forgive her husband, even if it cost her half her sanity—she walked in on Karina and Valery asleep together. “Who’s there?” Karina stirred. “It’s me,” said Nina, gazing at the ruin of her life. Karina just smiled serenely. Valery woke up a moment later, but he didn’t go after his wife.
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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.
A Baby for a Friend When Emily was in the last stretch of her pregnancy, her younger brother left home,...
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**
A Carer for the Wife “What do you mean?” Linda felt like shed misheard. “You want me to leave? Why?...
He Set His Sights on Another Man’s Wife: The Tale of Victor Dudnikov, a Failing Village Artist, His Long-Suffering Wife Sophia, and the Unexpected Arrival of Dennis—A Story of Creative Delusions, Lost Dreams, and a Fresh Chance at Love in the English Countryside
Set His Sights on Another Mans Wife When they began living together, Victor Dudley revealed himself to be surprisingly weak-willed....