З життя
HE WILL LIVE WITH US…
15November2025 Manchester
I still hear the stubborn ring of the doorbell announcing an unexpected visitor. Maggie tossed off her apron, wiped her hands on a teatowel and went to answer. On the doorstep stood our daughter, Emily, arminarm with a young man shed just introduced as her new partner.
Hello, Mum, Emily kissed my wife on the cheek. This is Dave; hell be moving in with us.
Nice to meet you, the lad said, offering a polite nod.
This is my mother, Aunt Maggie, Emily added, correcting herself in a rush.
Good afternoon, I muttered, trying not to stare at the halfsmile on Daves face.
Mom, whats for dinner? Emily asked, eyes bright as ever.
Weve got mushy peas and bangers, Maggie replied, already rummaging for a pot.
I dont eat mushy peas, Dave said, slipping past us into the hallway.
Dave, youre not a fan of peas? Emilys eyebrows shot up.
Dave dropped his battered backpack onto the sofa, his boots thudding on the carpet.
This is actually my bedroom, Maggie announced, a hint of surprise in her voice.
Come on, Dave, Ill show you where youll be staying, Emily called from the landing.
Im fine here, Dave muttered, pushing himself up from the sofa.
Mom, you need to think of something to feed Dave, Emily urged.
Ive only half a packet of bangers left, Maggie shrugged. A bit of mustard, some ketchup and a few slices of bread will do.
Sounds decent enough, Dave replied, halfsmiling.
Maggie headed to the kitchen, still muttering about how she used to bring home stray kittens and puppies, now just this new guest to look after. She ladled the peas onto a plate, added two fried bangers, nudged a bowl of salad over, and settled down to eat.
Mom, why are you eating alone? Emily asked as she entered the kitchen.
Ive just come back from work and Im famished, Maggie answered, chewing. Anyone who wants a portion can serve themselves. By the way, why is Dave moving in?
How so? Emily asked, eyebrows raised. Hes my husband.
Maggie choked on her biscuit.
Your husband? I heard her whisper.
Exactly. Emma, youre an adult now; you decide whether to marry or not. Im nineteen years older than Dave, after all.
You didnt even invite us to a wedding.
There was no ceremony, just a registry office paperwork. Since were now husband and wife, well be sharing this flat. Emily replied, glancing at Maggies halfeaten plate.
Congrats, then. Why skip the wedding?
If you have cash for a wedding, you could hand it over; well find a use for it.
Right, Maggie murmured, still tucking into her meal. Why here, though?
Because the twobed flat were renting is already occupied by four people. No point looking for another place when we have my spare bedroom.
Did you even consider renting a separate place? Emily asked.
Why rent when theres a spare room? Maggie replied, surprised.
Got it.
Will there be anything else to eat? Dave asked.
The pot on the stove still has peas, there are bangers in the pan. If thats not enough, theres half a packet in the fridge. Help yourselves.
Mom, youve just got a soninlaw, Emily said, emphasizing the last word.
So what? I dont need to break into a jig for it. Im tired after work; just use your own hands to clean up.
Thats why youre still single! Emily snapped, slamming her bedroom door.
After dinner Maggie washed the dishes, wiped the table and changed into her gym clothes. She headed to the local fitness centre for her usual evening workout a couple of spin classes and a quick dip in the pool.
She got back just before ten, expecting a soothing cup of tea. Instead she found the kitchen in chaos. The lid of the peas pot was missing, the mash had dried and cracked, the banger packet lay open on the counter, a loaf of stale bread sat unwrapped, the nonstick pan was scorched and someone had scraped its surface with a fork. A puddle of sugary liquid spread across the floor, and a faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered.
Bloody hell, Maggie muttered. Emily never let a mess like this happen.
She opened Emilys door to find the young couple nursing glasses of wine, cigarettes dangling from their lips.
Emily, tidy up the kitchen now. Buy a new pan tomorrow, Maggie said, then slipped back to her room without shutting the door.
Emily sprang up, a flash of anger in her eyes.
Why should we clean? Im a student, I dont earn money for a pan. Do you even care about the dishes?
Remember the house rules: eat, clean; make a mess, clean; break something, replace it. The pan wasnt cheap, and now its ruined.
You dont want us to stay here, Emily snapped.
No, Maggie replied calmly. Im not fighting with you.
My share of the flat is yours, but the whole flat belongs to me; I paid for it, bought it. Youre just on the lease. If you want to live here, follow the rules.
Ive lived my whole life by your rules. Im married now; you cant tell me what to do, Emily shouted. Youre old, you should give us the flat.
Ill give you a corridor in the building and a bench outside if you like, Maggie said dryly. Did you even ask me before you got married? Youre staying here alone or with your husband, but not in my flat.
Emily lunged for her suitcase, yelling, Dave, were leaving!
Within minutes Dave staggered back into the flat, halfdrunk, slurring, Alright, Mum, keep cool, everythingll be fine. We wont desert you in the night. If you behave, maybe well keep it quiet.
What do you think I am, your mum? Maggie snapped. Your parents are still here, so keep your new wife out of it.
Dave swung a fist, aiming for Maggies nose. She blocked it with a manicured hand, gripping his wrist tightly.
Let go of me, you lunatic! she hissed.
Emily tried to pull her mother away, but Maggie shoved her aside and kicked Dave in the groin, then elbowed his neck.
Ill press charges, Dave howled, Ill sue you.
Ill call the police, then we can sort the paperwork, Maggie replied.
The couple fled the flat, slamming the door behind them.
Youre no longer my mother, Emily shouted, and youll never see my grandchildren.
Good luck with that, Maggie said with a wry smile. Ill finally have some peace.
She looked at her hands, noticing a few broken nails. All this damage is yours, she muttered.
After they were gone, Maggie cleaned the kitchen, threw away the ruined peas and the scorched pan, and changed the locks. Three months later, while walking past her workplace, Emily appeared, gaunt and hollowcheeked.
Mum, whats for dinner? she asked.
I havent decided yet. What do you want? Maggie replied.
Chicken and rice, Emily whispered, and a Caesar salad.
Then well get the chicken, Maggie said. Youll have to make the salad yourself.
She never asked Emily any more questions, and Dave never turned up again.
Lesson learned: pride and stubbornness only invite chaos; a house runs best when everyone shares the load and respects the rules.
A Parent’s Love: Family Gatherings, Christmas Surprises, and a Lesson in Protectiveness on a Winter’s Day
Parental Love Mum always said, Children are the flowers of life, shed laugh, and Dad would grin and add, Flowers...
Igor Never Returned From His Holiday: When Your Husband Disappears by the Seaside, a Wife’s Search, Tense Family Reunion, and the Painful Truth That Comes Home
Since his holiday, Stanley never came back Hasnt your husband written or called yet? Not a word, Vera, not after...
“Oh, You Drive Me Mad!… I Eat Wrong, I Dress Wrong, I Do Everything Wrong!”—Pavel’s Voice Broke Into a Shout. “You Can’t Do Anything Right!… Can’t Even Earn a Decent Living… And You’re No Help Around the House, Ever!”—Marina Sobbed, “…And There Are No Children…” She Whispered. Belka, the Ten-Year-Old Ginger-and-White Cat, Watched Silently from Atop the Cupboard as Another Family “Tragedy” Unfolded. She Knew, Even Felt, That Mum and Dad Loved Each Other Dearly—So Why Say Such Hurtful Things? Mum Ran Off Crying, Dad Chain-Smoked by the Window, and Belka Thought to Herself: “What This Home Needs Is Happiness, And Happiness Means Kids… Somehow, We Need to Find Children…” Belka Herself Couldn’t Have Kittens—She’d Been Neutered Long Ago. As for Mum, The Doctors Said It Was Possible, But Something Never Quite Worked Out… The Next Morning, After Mum and Dad Left for Work, Belka Squeezed Out the Window and Went to See Her Neighbour, Whiskers, for Advice. “Why On Earth Would You Want Kids?” Sniffed Whiskers. “Ours Always Come Over—Hide From Them If You Can! They Smear My Muzzle With Lipstick Or Squeeze Me ‘Til I Can’t Breathe!” Belka Sighed, “We Need Proper Children… But Where On Earth Do We Get Them?” “Well… That Stray Molly on the Street Just Had Five… Take Your Pick…” Whiskers Shrugged. On Her Own Daring, Belka Tiptoed Balcony to Balcony Down to the Street, Squeezed Through The Bars of a Basement Window, and Called Out, “Molly, Could You Come Here for Just a Moment?” From Deep Within the Cellar Came the Desperate Squeaking of Kittens. Belka Cautiously Approached. Underneath the Heater, Five Blind, Mismatched Kittens Searched The Air, Wailing Hungrily. Molly Hadn’t Been There for At Least Three Days. The Babies Were Starving… Feeling She Might Cry, Belka Carefully Carried Each Kitten to the Entrance of Her Building. Lying Beside the Screeching, Hungry Bunch, She Waited Anxiously for Mum and Dad to Come Home. When Pavel and Marina Returned from Work, They Were Astonished—There Was Belka, Never Before Out Alone, Being Nursed by Five Noisy Kittens. “How on Earth Did This Happen?” Pavel Stammered. “It’s a Miracle…” Whispered Marina. They Scooped Up Belka and the Kittens and Rushed Inside. As Pavel Watched Their Purring Cat in a Box Full of Babies, He Asked, “So… What Are We Going To Do With Them?” “I’ll Hand-Feed Them… When They’re Grown, We’ll Find Them Homes… I’ll Call My Friends,” Whispered Marina. Three Months Later, Still Stunned By The Miracle, Marina Sat Stroking Her Feline Clan, Repeating to Herself, “This Can’t Be Real… This Can’t Happen…” And Soon After, She and Pavel Wept for Joy, Laughing and Embracing, “I’m So Glad We Finished Building This House!” “Yes! Perfect for a Child to Play Outside!” “And the Kittens Can All Run Around!” “There’s Room for Everyone!” “I Love You!” “Oh, I Love You Even More!” Wise Old Belka Wiped Away a Tear—Life Was Finally Coming Together…
Im so fed up with you! Nothing I do is right for you! The way I eat, what I wearits...
Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans
– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...
Mother-in-Law Anna Peters was sitting in her kitchen, watching the milk quietly simmering on the stove. She had forgotten to stir it three times already, each time remembering too late: the milk would froth, spill over, and she would clean the stove irritably with a cloth. In those moments she felt it keenly: it wasn’t really about the milk. Ever since her second grandchild was born, everything in the family seemed to derail. Her daughter grew tired, thinner, and quieter. Her son-in-law came home late, ate in silence, sometimes heading straight to the bedroom. Anna saw this and thought: how can you just leave a woman to cope alone? She spoke up. At first gently, then more sharply. First to her daughter, then to her son-in-law. And then she noticed something strange: after she spoke, the house didn’t feel lighter, but heavier. Her daughter defended her husband, he grew gloomier, and Anna returned home with a sinking feeling that once again, she hadn’t done things right. That day she went to see their vicar, not for advice, but because there was nowhere else to go with this feeling. “I suppose I’m just not a good person,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I always do things wrong.” The vicar was sitting at his desk, writing. He set his pen aside. “Why do you think that?” Anna shrugged. “I tried to help. Instead, I only seem to make everyone angry.” He looked at her attentively, but without judgment. “You’re not a bad person. You’re just exhausted. And very anxious.” She sighed. That rang true. “I’m so worried for my daughter,” she said. “She’s so different since the baby. And him…” She waved a hand. “It’s like he doesn’t even notice.” “Do you notice what he does?” the vicar asked. Anna thought for a moment. She remembered how, last week, he washed the dishes late at night when he thought no one saw. How on Sunday he took the pram out for a walk, even though he looked as if he’d rather collapse into bed. “He does help… I suppose,” she replied doubtfully. “But not the way he should.” “And what way is that?” the vicar asked gently. Anna wanted to reply at once, but realised she didn’t know. She could only think: more, better, more attentively. But what, exactly, was hard to explain. “I just want things to be easier for her,” she said. “Then say that,” the vicar replied quietly. “Not to him, but to yourself.” She looked at him. “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re not fighting for your daughter — you’re fighting her husband. And fighting means being tense. That exhausts everyone: you, and them.” Anna was silent for a long while. Then she asked, “So what should I do? Pretend everything’s fine?” “No,” he replied. “Just do what helps. Not words, but actions. And not against someone, but for someone.” On her way home, she thought over his words. Remembered how, when her daughter was a little girl, she would just sit beside her quietly if she cried — never lecturing. Why was it different now? The next day, she arrived unannounced. She brought soup. Her daughter was surprised; her son-in-law embarrassed. “I won’t stay long,” Anna said. “Just wanted to help.” She watched the children while her daughter slept. Left quietly, without a word about how hard things were, or what they ought to do. The next week, she came again. And again, the week after. She still noticed that her son-in-law was far from perfect. But she began to see other things: the way he gently picked up the baby, how at night he tucked a blanket around her daughter when he thought no one was looking. One day, in the kitchen, she couldn’t help herself and asked him, “Is it hard for you right now?” He looked startled, as if no one had ever asked before. “It’s hard,” he answered, after a pause. “Very.” And nothing more. But something sharp in the air between them was gone. Anna realised she’d been waiting for him to change. But it needed to start with her. She stopped discussing him with her daughter. When her daughter complained, she didn’t say “I told you so.” She just listened. Sometimes she took the children to give her daughter a break. Sometimes she called her son-in-law to ask how things were. It wasn’t easy. It was much easier to stay angry. But gradually, the house grew quieter. Not better, not perfect — just quieter. Free of endless tension. One day her daughter said, “Mum, thank you for being with us now, not against us.” Anna thought about those words for a long time. She understood something simple: reconciliation doesn’t come from someone admitting they’re wrong. It comes when someone is willing to stop fighting first. She still wanted her son-in-law to be more attentive. That wish hadn’t gone away. But alongside it lived something more important: for her family to have peace. And every time the old feeling — frustration, resentment, the urge to criticise — rose up, she asked herself: Do I want to be right, or do I want to make things easier for them? Almost always, the answer showed her what to do next.
Mother-in-Law Margaret Williams sat in the kitchen, her eyes resting on the saucepan of milk gently simmering on the hob....
Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans
– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...
“My Grandchildren Only See Fresh Fruit Once a Month, But She Buys Expensive Food for Her Cats!”: My Daughter-in-Law Accuses Me of Being Cold-Hearted for Putting My Pets First, but I Won’t Let Her Guilt Me into Supporting Their Growing Family
My grandchildren only see fresh fruit once a month, yet she spends a fortune on fancy cat food, my daughter-in-law...
Oxana, Are You Busy? – A Festive New Year’s Eve Tale of Family, Holiday Hustle, a Mishap in the Snow, and an Unexpected Encounter with a Doctor That Changed Everything
Annie, are you busy? her mum calls, poking her head through the door to her daughters room. Just a second,...