З життя
For Two Years, Maria Was Just the Carer for Her Mother-in-Law Maria Managed to Marry a Very Distinguished Gentleman: All Her Friends Were Jealous. Her Husband Owned His Own Business, a Gated Luxury Home, Several Cars and a Cottage in the Countryside, All by Thirty-Two. Maria, Having Just Graduated and Worked as a Teacher for a Year, Married Him That Summer. After the Wedding, Her Husband Said There Was No Need for His Wife to Work for Peanuts. He Asked Her to Stay Home and Prepare for Children, and Maria Did Not Object. The First Year of Marriage Felt Like a Fairy Tale: Maria and Her Husband Travelled, Creating Memories and Buying Expensive Things. Yet Maria Had Nowhere to Wear Her New Clothes—Her Friends Were Busy Working and Spending Weekends With Their Families. Her Husband Often Partied Without Ever Inviting Maria. Maria Was Bored. Unable to Have Children, Her Feelings for Her Husband Faded. After Finishing Her Household Tasks, She Roamed Room to Room, Wondering About Her Future. A Year Passed. Her Husband Was Rarely Home, Often Returning in the Evenings, Exhausted and Irritable, Claiming His Business Was Struggling. First, He Told His Wife to Spend Less. Then He Demanded She Account for Every Purchase and Expense, Calculating and Insisting They Could Live Just as Well for Half the Amount. Maria Grew Worried. She Wanted to Work, But Couldn’t Find a Teaching Position. She Decided to Enrol on a Course, But Then Her Mother-in-Law Fell Ill, and Maria Had to Take Care of Her for Two Years. Her Husband Moved His Mother In. Maria Did Everything, Caring for the Sick. Her Husband Came Home Even Less. When Her Mother-in-Law Passed Away, Her Husband Grew Even More Distant—Barely Speaking to Maria, Withdrawn, Spending Most of His Time at Work and Seldom Returning Home. Maria Couldn’t Understand What Had Happened Until She Visited Her Mother-in-Law’s Old Flat, Where She Hadn’t Been for Ages. Behind Closed Doors, She Heard a Child Crying. Surprised, Maria Rang the Bell. A Young Woman Opened the Door—Maria Learned Her Husband Had Started a Second Family Before His Mother’s Illness, and Then Installed Them in His Mother’s Flat. For Maria, It Was a Shock. She Realised She Couldn’t Save Her Marriage. She Left for Another City, to Her Aunt, Practically With Nothing but a Small Bag—Not Wanting Anything Reminding Her of Her Marriage or How Badly Her Life Had Turned Out…
For two years, Emily was nothing more than a nurse to his mother.
Emily managed to marry a man who was viewed as quite distinguished. All her friends envied her. Her husband owned a successful firm, a spacious, lavish house in Surrey, several cars, and a cottage in the Yorkshire countrysideall by the age of thirty-two.
Emily, meanwhile, had just finished university and spent a year as a teacher. They married in the summer. After the wedding, her husband told her there was no sense in his wife working for mere pocket change. He insisted she stay home and prepare for having children. Emily didnt object.
The first year of marriage felt like something out of a fairy tale. Emily and her husband travelled around England, collecting memories and expensive purchases. But Emily had nowhere to wear her new dresses. Her friends were busy with work all week and spent weekends caring for their own families. Her husband was constantly going to events, but never thought to bring his wife along.
Emily grew bored. She couldnt conceive, and her feelings for her husband slowly faded. Day after day, after her chores, she wandered about the house, thinking about her future. Another year slipped by. Her husband was hardly ever home during the day, and returned late in the eveningtired and irritable. He complained business wasnt going as smoothly as hed hoped.
First, he told Emily they should cut back on spending. Then he required her to account for every purchase she made. He scrutinised her spending, arguing that they could live just as well on half as much. Emily was troubled. She longed to return to work, but couldnt find a position in her field.
She decided to enrol in a course, but then her husbands mother fell ill. Emily was obliged to care for her for two years. Her husband moved his mother into their house. Emily took on everything, tending to the sick woman. Her husband grew even more distant, rarely coming home.
When his mother died, her husband drifted even further away. He barely spoke to Emily and seemed increasingly withdrawn. He avoided eye contact, spent more and more time at work, and practically stopped returning home altogether.
Emily couldnt work out what had changed until she visited her late mother-in-laws old flat, which she hadnt seen in ages. Behind the closed door, she heard a baby crying. Emily was shocked, having assumed the flat was empty. Despite her hesitation, she rang the bell.
A young woman answered the door. Emily discovered her husband had started another family even before his mother fell ill, and later moved them into his mothers flat.
Emily was devastated. She knew she couldnt salvage her marriage. She packed a small handbag and left for Bath, to stay with her auntleaving everything else behind. She didnt want a single item to remind her of the marriage and how badly things had turned out.
Reflecting on it now, Ive learned the importance of not losing yourself for the sake of someone elses dreams. No matter how gilded the cage, you must be free to choose your own path.
З життя2 хвилини ago
The Grey Mouse Is Happier Than You
Emily, honestly, are you kidding me right now? Jessica stared at her faded cotton dress with a look reserved for...
З життя5 хвилин ago
She Got My Mother-in-Law Back on Her Feet—Yet I’m Furious Because I Didn’t Weed the Vegetable Beds — “What are you doing here?” Standing in the middle of the swan-shaped flower beds, my mother-in-law shouted, “There’s never been such disgrace here before! I had seven children—never a single weed!” Her shriek drew the neighbours, who clung to the fence like crows and immediately dissected everything they heard. Seeing her audience, my mother-in-law took great pleasure in performing. I stood, speechless, as she went on. At last, worn out from shouting, she drew a breath and said loudly enough for all the neighbours to hear: I didn’t say a word. I walked calmly past my mother-in-law, holding my child even closer. Once inside, I divided up, in a special box, everything my mother-in-law was to take that evening and the next morning. Without folding anything, I tossed my son’s things and mine into a bag. I left without saying a word. Three days later, my mother-in-law called: “What did you do with all those things the professor gave her? I asked the neighbour to buy a few, but she said one jar is very expensive. The ones with foreign labels, well, we don’t use those or exchange them. So what am I to do? You left, offended for some reason, and here I am, about to meet my maker!” I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and took out the SIM card. That’s it. I can’t go on—I have no physical or emotional strength left. A year ago, just before my son was born, my husband lost control of his car on an icy road. I vaguely remember saying goodbye for the last time, the ambulance taking him away, and waking up the next morning as a new mother… I didn’t care about anything. The world felt empty and pointless without my beloved husband. I nursed and rocked my son like clockwork, because that’s what I was told to do. A phone call snapped me out of my stupor. “Your mother-in-law is in bad shape. Apparently, she won’t last much longer.” I made my decision at once: after settling things, I sold my flat in London. I invested some of the money into building a home, so my son will have something of his own when he grows up. And I went to save my mother-in-law. This past year, I haven’t really lived—I’ve just existed. I had no time for sleep, caring for both my mother-in-law and my baby son. The baby was restless, and my mother-in-law required round-the-clock care. At least I had the money. I called in the best specialists from all over the UK; I bought every medication prescribed. Eventually, my mother-in-law returned to normal life. At first, I wheeled her through the house, then around the garden. By the end, she was strong enough to walk—on her own—as if nothing had happened… I don’t want to know her now, or hear from her ever again. Let her work out everything she needs for her recovery herself. At least I was wise enough not to spend all the money on her recovery. My son and I moved to our new flat. I never imagined it would end like this. I wanted to be close with my husband’s family, since I am an orphan myself. But now it’s just me. I need to teach my son: not everyone deserves kindness. Some people care more about a tidy vegetable patch.
I managed to get my mother-in-law back on her feet. But honestly, Im fuming because I didnt get around to...
З життя1 годину ago
For Two Years, Maria Was Just the Carer for Her Mother-in-Law Maria Managed to Marry a Very Distinguished Gentleman: All Her Friends Were Jealous. Her Husband Owned His Own Business, a Gated Luxury Home, Several Cars and a Cottage in the Countryside, All by Thirty-Two. Maria, Having Just Graduated and Worked as a Teacher for a Year, Married Him That Summer. After the Wedding, Her Husband Said There Was No Need for His Wife to Work for Peanuts. He Asked Her to Stay Home and Prepare for Children, and Maria Did Not Object. The First Year of Marriage Felt Like a Fairy Tale: Maria and Her Husband Travelled, Creating Memories and Buying Expensive Things. Yet Maria Had Nowhere to Wear Her New Clothes—Her Friends Were Busy Working and Spending Weekends With Their Families. Her Husband Often Partied Without Ever Inviting Maria. Maria Was Bored. Unable to Have Children, Her Feelings for Her Husband Faded. After Finishing Her Household Tasks, She Roamed Room to Room, Wondering About Her Future. A Year Passed. Her Husband Was Rarely Home, Often Returning in the Evenings, Exhausted and Irritable, Claiming His Business Was Struggling. First, He Told His Wife to Spend Less. Then He Demanded She Account for Every Purchase and Expense, Calculating and Insisting They Could Live Just as Well for Half the Amount. Maria Grew Worried. She Wanted to Work, But Couldn’t Find a Teaching Position. She Decided to Enrol on a Course, But Then Her Mother-in-Law Fell Ill, and Maria Had to Take Care of Her for Two Years. Her Husband Moved His Mother In. Maria Did Everything, Caring for the Sick. Her Husband Came Home Even Less. When Her Mother-in-Law Passed Away, Her Husband Grew Even More Distant—Barely Speaking to Maria, Withdrawn, Spending Most of His Time at Work and Seldom Returning Home. Maria Couldn’t Understand What Had Happened Until She Visited Her Mother-in-Law’s Old Flat, Where She Hadn’t Been for Ages. Behind Closed Doors, She Heard a Child Crying. Surprised, Maria Rang the Bell. A Young Woman Opened the Door—Maria Learned Her Husband Had Started a Second Family Before His Mother’s Illness, and Then Installed Them in His Mother’s Flat. For Maria, It Was a Shock. She Realised She Couldn’t Save Her Marriage. She Left for Another City, to Her Aunt, Practically With Nothing but a Small Bag—Not Wanting Anything Reminding Her of Her Marriage or How Badly Her Life Had Turned Out…
For two years, Emily was nothing more than a nurse to his mother. Emily managed to marry a man who...
З життя1 годину ago
My Husband Brought a Colleague to Our Christmas Eve Dinner—So I Asked Them Both to Leave
Where have you put the napkins? I told you to get the ones with the silver pattern; they match the...
З життя2 години ago
“We’ll Be Staying With You For A While, We Can’t Afford To Rent A Flat!” – Said My Friend I’m a very active woman. Even though I’m 65, I still manage to visit fascinating places and meet interesting people. I recall my youth with both joy and nostalgia—back then, you could holiday wherever you liked! You could go to the seaside, or camping with friends, or set sail down any river, all for little money. Sadly, those days are gone. I always loved meeting new people, be it on the beach or at the theatre, and many friendships lasted years. One day, I met a woman named Sarah. We were holidaying at the same seaside guesthouse and parted as friends. Years passed and we’d occasionally exchange letters. Then, one day, I received an unsigned telegram: “The train arrives at three in the morning. Meet me!” I couldn’t imagine who would send it. My husband and I didn’t go anywhere, but at four in the morning, there was a knock at our door. Opening it, I was stunned—standing there was Sarah, two teenage girls, her mother, and a man, with a mountain of luggage. My husband and I were bewildered, but we let them in. Then Sarah asked me: “Why didn’t you come to meet us? I sent you a telegram! And you know, that cost me!” “Sorry, but we didn’t know who sent it.” “Well, you gave me your address. So, here I am.” “I thought we’d just write letters, that’s all!” Sarah explained that one of the girls had just finished school and wanted to attend university. The family had come to support her. “We’ll be living with you! We have no money for a flat or hotel!” I was shocked—we weren’t even family! Why should we let them stay with us? We had to feed them three times a day. They’d brought some food, but didn’t cook, just ate ours. I ended up looking after everyone. I couldn’t take it anymore, so after three days I asked Sarah and her family to leave. I didn’t care where to. There was an awful row. Sarah started smashing crockery and screamed hysterically. I was utterly appalled. As they packed up, they managed to steal my bathrobe, several towels, and—astonishingly—even a large saucepan. I still don’t know how they got it out, but that pan simply vanished! And so ended our friendship—thank goodness! I never saw or heard from her again. How can people be so shameless? Now, I’m much more wary when meeting new acquaintances.
Well be staying with you for a while because we havent got the money for a flat! my friend announced...
З життя2 години ago
Snowdrifts of Destiny: How a Reluctant Lawyer and a Quiet Accountant Found Each Other When a Corporate Christmas Party Turned into an Unexpected Night of Confessions, Old Films, and Hopeful New Year Footprints
Snowdrifts of Fate Martin, a thirty-five-year-old solicitor, absolutely loathed New Years Eve. For him, it wasnt a festive celebration, but...
З життя3 години ago
You Don’t Deserve It — “After my divorce, I thought I’d never be able to trust anyone again,” Andrew said, turning an empty espresso cup between his fingers. His voice broke and trembled so convincingly that Ksenia instinctively leaned closer. “You know, when you’ve been betrayed, it’s like losing a part of yourself. She left a scar I’ll never get over. I truly believed I wouldn’t survive it…” Andrew sighed heavily and talked for a long time—about the wife who never appreciated him, about the pain that wouldn’t let go, about how terrified he was to start over. Every word settled in Ksenia’s heart like a warm pebble, and she already imagined she’d be the woman to restore his faith in love. Together, they would heal his wounds. He’d finally see that real happiness was possible—with her. It wasn’t until their second date, between dessert and coffee, that Andrew mentioned Maxim… “I have a son, by the way. He’s seven. He lives with his mother, but spends every weekend with me. The court decided that.” “That’s wonderful!” Ksenia gave a bright smile. “Children are such a blessing.” She pictured Saturday morning breakfasts for three, trips to the park, cozy evenings watching TV. The boy would need a woman’s care, a mother’s warmth. She would be his second mum—not to replace the real one, of course, but to be someone close, someone he could rely on… “You’re really sure you don’t mind?” Andrew looked at her with an odd smirk that Ksenia mistook for distrust. “Most women run for the hills when they hear I have a child.” “I’m not most women,” she replied proudly. …The first weekend with Maxim was a proper celebration. Ksenia made blueberry pancakes—his favourite, as Andrew had warned her. She patiently sat with a maths textbook, making problems easy to understand, washed his dinosaur T-shirt, ironed his school uniform, made sure he was in bed by nine. “You should take a break,” she told Andrew one day, noticing how he sprawled out on the sofa with the remote in his hand. “I’ve got this.” Andrew nodded—gratefully, so she thought at the time. Now she realised it was the nod of a man accepting what was rightfully his. …Months became years. Ksenia worked as a manager in a logistics company—out at eight in the morning, back at seven at night. The pay was pretty decent, as far as London went. Enough for two. But there were three of them. “They’ve delayed the project again,” Andrew would announce as if reporting a natural disaster. “The client bailed. But there’s a big contract just round the corner, I promise.” The big contract hovered on the horizon for a year and a half. Sometimes it seemed closer, sometimes it drifted away, but it never actually arrived. The bills, on the other hand, showed up right on cue. Rent. Electricity. Internet. Groceries. Child maintenance for Marina. New trainers for Max. School fees. Ksenia paid the lot without complaint. She saved on lunches, brought in tubs of pasta, refused to take a taxi even in the pouring rain. She hadn’t splashed out on a manicure for over a year—did her own nails, trying not to think about how she used to afford pampering at the salon. In three years Andrew gave her flowers exactly three times. She remembered each bunch—cheap, slightly withered supermarket roses from the corner stall, the thorns already broken off. Probably a discount… The first bouquet came as an apology after Andrew called her hysterical in front of Max. The second—after a row when her friend visited with no warning. The third was brought home after he missed her birthday because he stayed out with his mates (or simply forgot…) “Andrew, I don’t need expensive presents,” she tried to keep her voice gentle, choosing every word. “But sometimes, I’d just like to know you’re thinking of me. Even a card…” His face twisted instantly. “Money, it’s always about money with you, isn’t it? Presents, presents. Does love mean anything to you? All I’ve been through, and you complain?” “I didn’t mean—” “You don’t deserve it.” Andrew spat the words at her like mud. “After everything I’ve done for you, you still find something to whinge about.” Ksenia fell silent. She always did—it was just easier that way. Easier to live, easier to breathe, easier to pretend everything was fine. Strangely, Andrew always managed to find money for nights out with friends. Pubs, watching the football, café meetups every Thursday. He’d come home tipsy and cheerful, reeking of sweat and cigarettes, falling onto the bed without noticing Ksenia was still awake. She told herself: this is just how things are. Love means sacrifice. Love means patience. He’ll change. Of course he’ll change. I just have to wait a bit longer, love him a bit harder, give him all the support he needs—he’s been through so much… …Any talk of a wedding was like walking through a minefield. “We’re happy as we are—why do we need a piece of paper?” Andrew would shrug off the subject as if batting away a fly. “After what happened with Marina, I need time.” “Three years, Andrew. Three years is a long time.” “You’re putting pressure on me! It’s always the same with you.” He’d storm out of the room and end the conversation. Ksenia really wanted children. Her own, flesh and blood. She was twenty-eight, and her biological clock seemed to tick louder every month. But Andrew wasn’t up for being a father again—he already had a son, and, in his mind, that was plenty. …That Saturday she only asked for one day. Just one single day. “The girls have invited me round. We haven’t seen each other in ages. I’ll be back by evening.” Andrew looked at her as if she’d just announced plans to run off to another continent. “And Max?” “You’re his dad. You can spend the day with your son.” “So now you’re abandoning us? On a Saturday? When I was planning to have a break?” Ksenia blinked. Then blinked again. In three years she had never left them alone. Not once. She cooked, cleaned, helped with schoolwork, did the washing, ironing—all while holding down a full-time job. “I just want to see my friends. For a few hours… And he’s your son, Andrew. Surely you can spend one day with him without me?” “You should love my son as you love me!” Andrew suddenly roared. “You’re living in my flat, eating my food, and now you’re showing your true colours?!” His flat. His food. Ksenia was the one paying the rent. Ksenia bought the food from her wages. For three years she’d supported a man who shouted at her for wanting a day with her friends. She looked at Andrew—at his twisted face, the vein bulging on his forehead, clenched fists—and for the first time, truly saw him. Not the tragic victim of fate, not some lost soul in need of saving, but a grown man who was a master at exploiting someone else’s kindness. To him, Ksenia wasn’t a beloved partner or a future wife—just a financial backer and unpaid housekeeper. Nothing more. When Andrew left to drop Max off with Marina, Ksenia pulled out a travel bag. Her hands moved calmly, confidently—no shaking, no doubt. Passport. Phone. Charger. A couple of T-shirts. Jeans. The rest she could buy later. The rest didn’t matter. She didn’t bother leaving a note. What was the point of explaining things to someone who never really saw her anyway? The door closed quietly behind her. No drama. The phone calls started within the hour. First one, then another, then a deluge—an incessant ringing that made the phone vibrate in her hand. “Ksenia, where are you?! What’s going on?! I come home and you’re not here! How dare you? Where’s dinner? Am I supposed to go hungry? What’s all this nonsense?” She listened to his voice—angry, demanding, full of self-righteous outrage—and was amazed. Even now, when she’d left, Andrew only thought about himself. His inconvenience. Who would cook for him now? Not a single “sorry.” Not one “are you okay?” Just “how dare you.” Ksenia blocked his number. Then she found his profile in her chat app—blocked it. Social media—blocked. Every avenue he could use to reach her, she built a wall. Three years. Three years of living with a man who didn’t love her. Who used her kindness like it was disposable. Who convinced her that sacrificing herself was what love was all about. But love isn’t like that. Love doesn’t humiliate. Love doesn’t turn a living, breathing person into the hired help. Ksenia walked through the London evening—and, for the first time in ages, breathing came easy. She vowed to herself: never again would she confuse love with self-sacrifice. Never again would she rescue those who only trade on pity. Always, from now on, she would choose herself. Only herself.
I honestly thought after my divorce Id never trust anyone again, Alex was turning his empty espresso cup in his...
З життя3 години ago
My Father-in-Law Was Speechless When He Saw the Conditions We Were Living In
My father-in-law was speechless when he saw how we were living I first met my wife at a mutual friends...