З життя
Я стримую сльози, дивлячись у дзеркало: мене ніхто не вижене з мого дому!
На душі мені було важко, коли я витирала сльози, дивлячись на своє відображення у дзеркалі. Ні, я не дозволю собі розпачу. Не зараз. Зрештою, це моя квартира, і ніхто не має права мене звідси вигнати.
Хто б міг подумати, що шість років шлюбу з Павлом закінчаться ось так? Ми здавалися ідеальною парою — принаймні, так казали всі наші знайомі. Затишна квартира в центрі Києва, яку мені подарували батьки на двадцять п’ять років, спільні подорожі, вечори за переглядом фільмів…
Пам’ятаю, як батько казав перед весіллям:
— Катруся, квартиру оформимо тільки на тебе. Не те щоб я не довіряв Павлові, але життя може піднести різні сюрпризи.
Тоді я лише відмахнулася. Здавалося, що наша любов буде вічною.
— Катерино Андріївно, ви там не заснули? — почувся нетерплячий голос з-за дверей.
Я ще раз подивилася в дзеркало, поправила волосся і розправила плечи. Ні, нехай ця нова пасія мого чоловіка побачить, що я не зламалася.
— Виходжу, — сказала я, відкриваючи двері ванної.
У коридорі мене чекала ефектна блондинка близько тридцяти років. Дорогий костюм, туфлі від відомого бренду, бездоганний макіяж. Зрозуміло, чому Павло вибрав її — вона була повною протилежністю мені, сімейній і затишній.
— Аліна Віталіївна, — представилася вона офіційним тоном. — Я адвокат Павла Сергійовича. Ми прийшли обговорити питання вашого виселення.
— Мого виселення? — я відчула, як у горлі підступає гіркий сміх. — З моєї власної квартири?
Аліна Віталіївна трохи нахилила голову:
— Павло Сергійович сказав, що це ваше спільне майно.
Тепер я дійсно розсміялася:
— Павло просто забув сказати, що квартира дісталася мені від батьків до нашого шлюбу? І оформлена лише на мене?
На ідеальному обличчі Аліни Віталіївни промайнуло сумнів.
Я згадала, як усе почало руйнуватися. Спочатку це були дрібниці — Павло став пізніше повертатися з роботи, менше розмовляти зі мною. Пояснював це складним проєктом, а я дала йому простір. Думала, що це просто тимчасові труднощі.
— У мене є всі документи на квартиру, — спокійно сказала я. — Хочете подивитися?
— Не варто, — Аліна Віталіївна дістала телефон. — Я передзвоню Павлу Сергійовичу.
Поки вона відійшла до вікна для розмови, я присіла на край дивана. У голові крутилися спогади останніх тижнів.
Того вечора, коли Павло повернувся додому з незвичайним для нього тверезим і зібраним виглядом. Сказав, що нам потрібно поговорити. Я щойно закінчила готувати його улюблене печеня.
— Нам краще розійтися, — сказав він тоді, дивлячись кудись повз мене. — Я подаю на розлучення.
Я не стала влаштовувати сцен. Можливо, це було мамине виховання — вона завжди вчила мене зберігати гідність у будь-якій ситуації. Я мовчки зібрала документи і подала на розлучення сама, на кілька днів випередивши його.
Аліна Віталіївна закінчила розмову і повернулася до мене. Її обличчя значно змінилося — зникла попередня впевненість.
— Сталося невелике непорозуміння, — сказала вона, намагаючись зберегти професійний тон. — Павло Сергійович не зовсім точно описав ситуацію з нерухомістю.
— Ви хочете сказати, що він збрехав? — я піднялася з дивана. — Знаєте, це в його стилі. Він завжди вмів прикрашати реальність.
Аліна Віталіївна незручно переминалася з ноги на ногу:
— Я приношу свої вибачення за турботу.
— Не варто, — я підійшла до вхідних дверей і відчинила їх. — Ви просто робили свою роботу. Хоча… — я поміркувала. — Можу дати вам пораду?
Вона питання було зрозумілою очима на мене.
— Будьте обережні з Павлом. Він майстер маніпуляцій. Сьогодні він переконав вас прийти виселяти його дружину з її власної квартири. А завтра…
Я не договорила, але по її очах зрозуміла — вона почула. Коли двері за Аліною Віталіївною зачинилися, я притулилася до стіни і повільно сповзла на підлогу. Коліна тремтіли.
Дзвінок телефону змусив мене здригнутися. На екрані висвітлилося ім’я Павла.
— Що за цирк ти влаштувала? — його голос звучав роздратовано. — Навіщо було принижувати Аліну?
— Це я принижую? — я відчула, як всередині піднімається хвиля гніву. — А відправляти свою коханку виселяти мене з моєї квартири — це не приниження?
— Аліна не коханка, вона мій адвокат!
— Який випадково опинився у твоєму ліжку? — я не змогла втриматися від сарказму.
На тому кінці запанувала тиша.
— Ти ж розумієш, що я все одно отримаю свою частку майна при розлученні? — нарешті промовив Павло.
— Яку частку? Квартира належала мені до шлюбу. Автомобіль ти продав рік тому. Що ти хочеш ділити?
— У нас є спільний рахунок…
— На якому залишилися лише мої гроші, — перебила я його. — Чи ти забув, що останні два роки жив на мою зарплату, поки будував свій бізнес?
Знову тиша. Я майже бачила, як Павло хмуриться, прораховуючи варіанти.
— Знаєш, — повільно сказала я, — я завжди дивувалася, як легко тобі вдається чарувати людей. Лише тепер зрозуміла — це тому, що ти віриш у власну брехню. Ти дійсно переконав себе, що маєш право на цю квартиру?
— Катя, давай не будемо… — голос Павла звучав утомлено.
— Звичайно, не будемо, — я скинула виклик.
Минув тиждень. Я намагалася зайняти себе роботою, але думки все одно поверталися до того, що сталося. У п’ятницю вирішила пройтися парком — треба ж колись починати повертатися до нормального життя.
Осінній вітер ганяв по доріжках жовте листя. Я йшла, розглядаючи носки своїх черевиків, поки не почула знайомий сміх. Піднявши голову, завмерла — в двадцяти метрах від мене Павло і Аліна Віталіївна, тримаючись за руки, захоплено щось обговорювали.
— Значить, не коханка? — пробурмотіла я, відчувши, як у горлі підступає клубок. — Просто адвокат?
Вони не помітили мене, а я швидко згорнула на бічну алею. Ноги самі понесли до виходу з парку. Тепер усе стало на свої місця — і пізні повернення, і відрядження, і раптове рішення про розлучення.
Вдома я дістала пляшку вина, подаровану колегами на день народження. Сіла біля вікна, дивлячись на вечірнє місто. Дзвінок у двері змусив здригнутися.
На порозі стояла Аліна Віталіївна, але тепер вона виглядала зовсім інакше — домашня футболка замість ділового костюма, волосся зібране у недбалий хвіст.
— Можна ввійти? — запитала вона незвично м’яким голосом.
Я мовчки відійшла вбік.
— Катерино, я повинна пояснити, — почала Аліна, проходячи в вітальню. — Історія з виселенням… це було жахливо. Я не знала, що квартира ваша.
— Проте вирішили повірити Павлу на слово? — я сіла навпроти.
— Павло вміє бути переконливим, — Аліна опустила очі. — Ми зустрілися півроку тому на корпоративі. Він розповідав, що нещасливий у шлюбі, що ви його не розумієте…
— Класика жанру, — я невесело усміхнулася.
— Я вчинила непрофесійно. Змішала особисте з роботою, — Аліна похитала головою. — Вибачте.
— За що? За те, що закохалися у одруженого чоловіка чи за те, що прийшли виганяти його дружину з її квартири?
Аліна здригнулася:
— За все. Я… я розірвала з ним стосунки.
— Ось як? — я підняла брову. — А вчора в парку?
— Ви бачили? — Аліна зблідла. — Павло зателефонував, сказав, що хоче обговорити справи як клієнт. А потім почав говорити, що допустив помилку, що хоче все виправити…
Я гірко засміялася:
— І ви повірили?
— Ні, — твердо відповіла Аліна. — Тому я тут. Хотіла попередити — він збирається прийти до вас. Буде просити прощення, говорити про другий шанс.
Як у воду дивилася. Ввечері наступного дня в двері знову подзвонили.
— Катю, нам треба поговорити, — Павло стояв на порозі з букетом моїх улюблених лілій.
— Про що? — я схрестила руки на грудях.
— Я допустив помилку. Це інтрижка… вона нічого не значить, — Павло крокнув уперед. — Ми можемо почати все спочатку. Я все усвідомив.
— Дійсно? — я дивилася на людину, яку колись любила, і не впізнавала його. — І що ж ти усвідомив?
— Що тільки з тобою я відчуваю себе вдома. Що наш шлюб вартий того, щоб його зберегти.
— А як же Аліна? — я навмисно використала її ім’я.
Павло здригнувся:
— Це була помилка. Моментна слабкість.
— Тривалістю в півроку?
— Ти слідкувала за мною? — у голосі Павла промайнув гнів.
— Ні, просто твоя «моментна слабкість» прийшла до мене з вибаченнями. Виявилася куди поряднішою за тебе.
Павло зблід:
— Що вона тобі наговорила?
— Достатньо, — я притулилася до дверного косяка. — Знаєш, що найдивовижніше? Я зовсім випадково опинилася в кафе, де Аліна зустрічалася зі своєю подругою. Вони сиділи за сусіднім столиком.
— І що? — Павло нервово поправив рукав піджака.
— Аліна розповідала, як планувала використати тебе, щоб заволодіти моєю квартирою. Як переконала тебе, що зможе відсудити майно при розлученні. Кумедно, правда? Ти думав, що маніпулюєш нею, а вона маніпулювала тобою.
— Ти брешеш! — Павло крокнув до мене. — Аліна любить мене!
— Який же ти передбачуваний, — я похитала головою. — Завжди віриш у те, що тобі вигідно.
Наступного дня я зустрілася з Оленою Вікторівною, своїм адвокатом. Дістала всі документи на квартиру, включаючи дарчу від батьків.
— Катерино Андріївно, юридично квартира повністю ваша, — переглянувши папери, резюмувала Олена Вікторівна. — Але давайте підстрахуємося. Складемо додаткові документи, що закріплюють ваші права.
Розлучний процес пройшов швидко. Павло не з’явився — прислав свого представника. Не Аліну, звісно, якогось молодого юриста, який скучаючим голосом зачитав стандартні формулювання.
Вийшовши з будівлі суду, я глибоко вдихнула. Вперше за довгий час відчула себе по-справжньому вільною. Зателефонувала мамі:
— Усе закінчилося.
— Як ти, донечко? — у маминому голосі відчувалося хвилювання.
— Знаєш, несподівано добре, — я усміхнулася. — Записалася на курси дизайну інтер’єру. Давно мріяла.
— А робота?
— Взяла відпустку на місяць. Хочу зробити ремонт у квартирі, прибрати все, що нагадує про минуле.
Я дійсно зайнялася змінами. Переставила меблі, перефарбувала стіни, купила нові штори. Кожна зміна робила простір більш моїм, очищала його від спогадів.
Поступово життя почало налагоджуватися. Я відновила зв’язки з друзями, які якось непомітно віддалилися за роки шлюбу. Виявилося, багато хто помічав дивності в поведінці Павла, але не наважувався сказати мені.
— Ти змінилася, — зауважила моя найкраща подруга Марина за чашкою кави. — Стала… впевненішою, ніби.
— Просто зрозуміла дещо важливе, — я розмішувала цукор в чашці. — Знаєш, я завжди вважала, що довіра — це фундамент відносин. Що її потрібно давати авансом. А тепер розумію — довіру потрібно заслужити.
— І своє потрібно захищати, — додала Марина.
— Саме так, — я відставила чашку.
Минуло півроку. Я майже закінчила курси дизайну і навіть взяла перше замовлення — невелику квартиру-студію. Мій інстаграм з проєктами інтер’єрів почав набирати підписників.
Якось увечері, повертаючись з роботи, я зустріла Аліну. Вона виходила з сусіднього під’їзду.
— Катерино! — гукнула вона мене. — Можна на хвилинку?
Я зупинилася. Аліна виглядала інакше — простіше, більш природно.
— Я хотіла сказати дякую, — промовила вона. — Ваші слова тоді… вони змусили мене багато про що задуматися. Я дійсно планувала використати цю ситуацію в своїх цілях. Але ви показали мені, як це виглядає збоку.
— Рада, що допомогла, — щиро відповіла я.
Вдома я сіла біля вікна, дивлячись на вечірнє місто. Колись ця квартира була просто подарунком від батьків. Тепер вона стала символом моєї незалежності, моєї здатності постояти за себе.
На підвіконні розцвів кактус, який я купила після розлучення. Маленька колюча рослина, як і я, вчилася захищати свої кордони. Я усміхнулася цій думці. Майбутнє більше не лякало — воно манило новими можливостями. І тепер я точно знала: моє щастя залежить тільки від мене самої.
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....
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.
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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. She listened to her husband’s tirade, then asked, “Again?” Valery waved her off and put the phone on speaker—immediately met by sobbing. Veronica’s older sister had a natural talent for making even stones melt in pity. But their parents had developed a tough skin after so many years. “What do you mean ‘he threw you out’?” Valery started to pace the cramped corridor. “Damn right. Who’d put up with your never-ending drunkenness? Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror? You’re thirty, but you look like a battered dog.” Veronica crept her door open an inch. “Dad, please…” The sobs suddenly cut out. “He put my things out on the landing. I’ve nowhere to go. It’s cold, it’s raining… I’ll come to you, okay? Just for a couple of days. Just to get some sleep…” Mother lunged for the phone, but Valery turned away. “No!” he barked. “You’re not coming in this house. We agreed last time—after you hocked the TV while we were at the cottage, the door to this family shut for you!” “Mum! Mum, say something!” came the desperate cry. Tatiana covered her face. Her shoulders shook. “Larissa, how could you…” she sobbed, avoiding her husband’s eyes. “We took you to the doctors, we… You promised. The last treatment, they said it would last three years. You didn’t even last a month.” “Those treatments are rubbish!” Larissa snapped back, her voice suddenly venomous. “They’re just taking your money! I’m suffering here! Everything’s burning inside, I can’t breathe! And you’re worried about a TV! As if I won’t buy you a new one!” “With what?!” Valery stopped, glaring at a spot on the wall. “With what, when you’ve spent everything? Borrowed from your drinking friends again? Or sold something from your boyfriend’s flat, what’s his name?” “Doesn’t matter!” Larissa yelled. “Dad, I’ve nowhere to go! What do you want, for me to sleep under a bridge?” “Go to a shelter. Go anywhere,” her father’s voice went cold. “But you aren’t walking through this door. I’ll change the locks if I see you on our street.” Veronica sat on her bed, knees hugged to her chest. Usually, when her older sister pushed their parents into rage, the anger bounced on to her. “What are you doing there, on your phone again? You’ll end up as useless as your sister!” Words she’d heard for three years. But tonight, she was forgotten. No shouting, no snipes. Her father hung up, took off his coat, and her parents moved to the kitchen. Veronica carefully stepped into the hall. “Val, you can’t…” her mother pleaded. “She’ll be lost. You know how she gets in that state. She’s not responsible for herself.” “Why should I be responsible for her?” her father slammed the kettle on. “I’m fifty-five, Tania. I want to come home and sit in my chair in peace. I don’t want to hide my wallet under my pillow! I don’t want to apologise to neighbours who saw her with dodgy characters in our building!” “She’s our daughter,” mother whispered. “She was our daughter until she was twenty. Now she’s just someone draining the life out of us. She’s a drinker, Tania. You can’t cure that if she doesn’t want to quit. And she doesn’t. She likes this life. Wake up, get a cheap bottle and pass out!” The phone rang again. The parents froze, then her father’s voice came: “Yes?” “Dad… I’m at the station. Police are everywhere. They’ll arrest me if I stay here. Please…” “Listen to me, closely,” he cut in. “You’re not coming home. Period.” “So, should I just go and kill myself then?” Larissa’s voice held a note of challenge. “Is that what you want? A call from the morgue?!” Veronica froze. That was Larissa’s classic trump card— when nothing else worked, threaten tragedy. It always worked before. Mum would break down, dad would clutch his heart, and Lari would get money, a bed, food, and a clean-up. Not tonight. Her dad didn’t bite. “Stop with the threats,” he said. “You love yourself too much for that. Here’s the deal. I’ll find you a room. The cheapest I can, at the edge of town. I’ll pay a month’s rent. Some food money. That’s all. After that, you’re on your own. Get a job, shape up—you can manage. If not, in a month you’re back on the street. That’s it for me.” “A room?! Just a room, not a flat? Dad, I can’t do it on my own. It’s scary. The neighbours might be weird. And I don’t even have bedding—he kept it all!” “Mum will pack you some. I’ll leave it with the concierge. Collect it, but don’t even try upstairs. I’ve warned you.” “You’re animals!” Larissa screamed. “Chuck your own daughter out! Living comfortable in your three-bed while I have to crawl into some hovel?!” Mum couldn’t take it, snatching the phone. “Larissa, that’s enough!” she shouted, making Veronica jump. “Listen to your father! This is your only chance. Take the room, or it’s the streets. Choose now, or he won’t even pay for that!” Silence came from the other end. “Fine,” Larissa finally snapped. “Send me the address. And money. I’m starving.” “No money,” Valery cut in. “I’ll send you food. I know exactly what your ‘food’ budget goes on.” He hung up. Veronica decided now was the time. She tiptoed to the kitchen for a drink, expecting a backlash. Her dad would comment on her scruffy t-shirt. Her mum would chide her indifference—how could she just wander the house with all this going on? But neither even looked at her. “Veronica,” her mum said quietly. “Yeah, Mum?” “In the wardrobe, top shelf. Old bedsheets and pillowcases. Pack them in the blue bag from the cupboard.” “Okay, Mum.” Veronica found the bag and emptied it, dazed. How would Larissa live alone? She couldn’t boil pasta, let alone stay off the bottle… Veronica returned, climbed on a stool, and started packing the linen. “Don’t forget towels!” called Dad. “Already packed,” Veronica replied. She saw her father stomp out, grab the bags, and leave. Off to find this “hovel,” presumably. Veronica wandered into the kitchen. Mum sat, unmoving. “Mum, want me to get you a tablet or something?” she whispered. Mum looked up. “You know, Nick,” she began, her voice hollow, “when she was little, I thought: she’ll be my helper. We’ll talk about everything. Now all I can think is—please, let her remember the address, let her get there…” “She will,” Veronica perched beside her. “She always manages.” “Not this time,” Mum shook her head. “Her eyes… they’re empty now. She’s just a shell that needs its poison.” Veronica fell silent. She’d always thought her parents didn’t notice her fear, too busy saving ‘lost’ Larissa. “I thought you stopped caring about me,” she whispered. Mum reached out, stroked her hair. “We care. But we’re out of strength. It’s like on a plane—you put your own mask on before the child’s. We tried putting a mask on her for ten years, Nick! Rehab, quacks, expensive clinics. Nearly suffocated ourselves in the process.” The doorbell rang. “Is it her?” Veronica asked. “No, Dad’s got the keys. Probably the food delivery.” Veronica fetched the shopping—groceries, tinned goods, basics. Nothing extra. “She won’t eat this,” Veronica said, setting aside buckwheat. “She only eats takeaways.” “If she wants to live, she’ll cook,” Mum snapped, her old firmness returning briefly. “No more coddling her. Our kindness is killing her.” An hour later, Dad came home, haggard. “Found it,” he grunted. “Keys are here. Landlady’s an old retired teacher, strict as they come. She said one whiff of drink or any trouble, she’ll boot her straight out. I told her, ‘Do it.'” “Valery…” Mum sighed. “What? I’m done lying. She deserves to know.” He grabbed the bag, picked up the groceries and left. “I’ll drop this at the concierge. If she calls, don’t answer the house phone.” He left. Mum locked herself in the kitchen and wept. Veronica’s heart ached. How did it come to this? A sister not really living, only existing for the next drink—and parents barely surviving her… *** Her parents’ efforts failed—within a week, the landlady rang Valery. The daughter, with three men, partying all night: thrown out with the police. Still, the parents couldn’t abandon her. Larissa was sent to a secure rehab centre that claimed to ‘cure drinkers in a year.’ Maybe this time, there’ll be a miracle? **Shutting the Door on Our Own Daughter: When Love Fights to Survive Addiction’s Grip in an English Family**
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