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Відмова допомагати родичам — і розпад шлюбу
Відмова допомагати тещі на городі коштувала мені шлюбу.
Якби хтось колись запропонував, що моє п’ятнадцятирічне подружжя розвалиться через… буряки, я б скоріше засміявся. Та доля, як відомо, полюбляє жартувати жорстоко. Тепер я сам у порожній хрущовці, намагаючись збагнути, коли саме щось пішло не так. Десь у РАЦСі лежать папери про розлучення, а причиною, за словами дружини, стала «втрата спільних цілей». І все через те, що я не поїхав з нею до села — копати грядки для її матері.
Справедливості заради — я не ледар. Навпаки: працював від шкільних років. З чотирнадцяти розвозив газети, мив підлоги в магазині, а згодом влаштувався на завод. Коли зустрів Мар’яну, їй ледве виповнилося шістнадцять. Я був на два роки старший, вчився у технікумі, заробляв на хліб. Вона жила з матір’ю-самітницею, батька не знала. Я закохався — щиро, назавжди.
З перших місяців став для неї опорою: купував зошити, сукні, носив квіти з клумби біля гуртожитку. Потім, коли частіше бував у них вдома, взяв на себе чоловічу роботу: лагодив труби, перевіряв проводку, збирав шафу з IKEA. Не нарікав. Думав — так і має бути: допомагати рідним.
Побралися, народили дітей — Дмитра й Соломію. Жили спочатку на орендованій хаті, потім взяли кредит на двокімнатну. Як усі — не розкоші, та й не злидні. Я працював на складі, Мар’яна підробляла у швейній майстерні. Нам було добре. Принаймні, я так гадав… Доки не померла її бабуся.
Стареньку хату в селі успадкувала теща. І почалося… Кожні вихідні — поїздки «на господарство». Спочатку не заперечував: свіже повітря, зміна діяльності. Та коли це перетворилося на обов’язок щосуботи й щонеділі, зрозумів — я лише безкоштовний робітник.
Кожного разу — копати, садити, поливати, зрізати бур’ян. У спеку, під дощем, у багнюці. А натомість — ані подяки, ані теплої усмішки. Пропонував компроміс: їздити раз на два тижні, відпочивати з дітьми, виспатися. Та Мар’яна наче не чула. Казала, що я «міський мішок», бо «в офісі за комп’ютером сиджу — яка втома?».
Хоч робота моя й не фізична, але нервова: звіти, дедлайни, начальство, що тисне. Не скаржився, та хотів розуміння. А одного разу просто відмовився. Сказав — не поїду. Втомився, пальне нині золоте, а врожаю з того городу — три мішки буряків, які дешевше купити на базарі.
Після цього вона мовчала тиждень. А потім заявила, що ми «різні» й «немає чого триматися». Що я змінився, а вона подає на розлучення.
Я онімів. П’ятнадцять років разом. Пережили оренду, кредити, нічні годування дітей, грипізни, борги. У нас двоє дивовижних дітей, спільна кішка Ромашка, пес Барсік. І все це — нічого не варте?
Як це — немає спільних цілей? А діти — не мета? А хата, де кожну полицю я збирав власноруч, — не наша спільна справа? Чи спільні цілі — це лише коли я мовчки горбачусь на городі тещі замі
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I Don’t Understand Why I Became His Wife We Recently Got Married—I’d Thought My Husband Was Madly in Love With Me, but Something Strange Happened That Made Me Question Everything. It Wasn’t Infidelity, but Something Much More Serious and Bizarre. I Think It Happened Because I Cared Too Much—I Worshipped Him, Loved Him Unconditionally, and Forgave Everything. He Got Used to That, Grew More Confident, and His Ego Ballooned. He Probably Started to Think Any Woman Would Crawl Before Him at the Snap of His Fingers, Even Though He’s Not Highly Regarded by Others… Anyone Else Wouldn’t Have Tolerated His Mistakes or Trusted Him Blindly. Just Before the Wedding, He Wanted to Be Alone, Take a Holiday, and “Prepare” for Married Life. There Was Nothing I Could Do, So I Accepted and Let Him Go. He Later Told Me He’d Gone Alone to the Mountains to Escape Civilization—No Internet, No Phone—Just to Admire Nature. Meanwhile, I Stayed Home, Missing Him So Much My Heart Ached. I Counted Every Moment Until He Came Back. A Week Later He Returned—The Happiest Day of My Life. I Welcomed Him With All the Warmth and Love I Had, Cooking His Favourite Dishes. Then, the Very Next Day, Something Odd Began. He Kept Dashing Out to the Hallway or Another Room. Soon, He’d Leave the House Several Times a Day for All Sorts of Reasons. One Day, While Heading to the Shops, I Found a Letter in the Mailbox. It Looked Ordinary. Addressed to Me, from Him, Sent While He Was Away. But Its Words Shook Me Deeply. He’d Written: “Hello. I don’t want to mislead you any longer. You’re not the right person for me. I don’t want to spend my life with you. There won’t be a wedding. I’m sorry—don’t look for me and don’t call me. I’m not coming back to you.” So Brief, So Blunt, So Cruel… Only Now Did I Realize He’d Been Rushing to Check the Mailbox All This Time. Silently, I destroyed the letter, saying nothing to him and letting him believe nothing had happened. But how can I stay with someone who doesn’t want to be with me? Why did he marry me and pretend everything was fine?
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“I Had to Get a Separate Fridge So Mum Would Stop Taking My Shopping” — says Anna. “It’s a ridiculous situation, but there’s no other way. I’m not against selling the flat and sharing the money, but she refuses”. Anna recently turned 24. She’s earned her university degree and found work, but hasn’t settled down yet. Living in her own home isn’t easy. Anna owns half of the flat. It used to belong to her father. She and her mother inherited equal shares when Anna was 14. Ten years ago, things were tough for the family—they lost their breadwinner. Anna’s mum quit her job when Anna was small, deciding against maternity leave because her husband earned well and they were comfortable. She focused on being a homemaker. After Anna’s father died, her mother sobbed, “Who’s going to hire a forty-year-old like me now? What, as a cleaner?” Anna continues: “I was getting a family pension, but Mum couldn’t resist trips to the salon and shopping, even though we were barely scraping by. Her brother helped at first, but then he’d had enough. My uncle told Ali (my mum) she’d have to find work. He has his own kids — he can’t support everyone. After about a year, Ali brought a new man home. His name was Derek. She announced he’d be living with us. Mum tried to solve the money problem by getting married again. Derek did earn good money, but he didn’t get along with me at all. Derek would say: ‘All you do is eat. You’d be better off with a load of laundry or cleaning. Why do you have to do homework? University? Forget it—you should work instead. Or do you think I’ll just keep feeding you?’ I couldn’t say anything. Yes, I was getting a pension, but Mum had control of the money. She never defended me from my stepdad. She was afraid of losing her breadwinner. ‘How will we cope without him?’ she asked me. ‘Don’t argue so much, just do what he says. He provides for the family.’ I made it to university and found a job. Even so, Derek thought of me as another mouth to feed and was always counting what he spent on me. “Six months after I started work, I could afford my own fridge,” Anna says. “I put it in my bedroom because Derek locked the kitchen fridge.” ‘You’ve got a job now? Feed yourself,’ Derek said. Ali fell silent again. Even when Derek showed me the utility bills and demanded I pay for everything he’d ever spent on me. Eventually, Derek lost his job. He and Mum began raiding my fridge. The bills all landed on me. At first, I paid. But Derek sat around unemployed for nearly a year. I’d had enough, so I put a padlock on my fridge. Of course, Mum objected, claiming Derek had kept us fed all this time. I said, ‘Help me out, if you want. I’m not the first one sharing everything in this house. Go get a job.’ Derek recently moved out. Mum’s had enough of a man who brings in no money. But I’m still not taking the padlock off my fridge. I believe Mum should work too. What do you think—is she right?
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You’re the Big Brother, So You Must Help Your Little Sister—You’ve Got Two Flats, Give One to Your Sister! Not long ago, we celebrated my sister-in-law’s birthday. Alina has never had any friendly feelings towards me, and I’ve always felt the same about her. The celebration brought together all our relatives: grandparents, nephews, and of course the birthday girl. Each relative felt obliged to congratulate my husband on his sister’s birthday, while also admiring his generosity. My husband and I graciously accepted the congratulations, but couldn’t grasp what was happening. In my hand was an envelope containing £100 as a present. I thought it was a decent gift for the occasion, though hardly a display of extraordinary generosity. Everything became clear when my mother-in-law began her birthday speech for Alina. “Mark,” she said, “it’s your sister’s birthday today. She’s still single and without a partner, so as her older brother you should look after her and guarantee her security. Now that you own two flats, you’ll give one to Alina.” The room burst into applause while I nearly fell off my chair at the cheekiness of it all. But it didn’t end there. “Brother, make sure you give me the one in the new build! So, when can I move in?” Alina pressed, and I decided it was time for some clarification. My husband and I actually have two flats. One I inherited from my grandmother; we did a bit of redecorating and now rent it out. The money from that pays the mortgage for our flat in the new building—where we actually live. My husband has no rights to the flat I inherited; I’ve always planned to pass it on to our child—my sister-in-law isn’t even in the picture. “Forget it, the rented flat is mine and the one you’re dreaming about is our home.” “Child, you’re quite mistaken. You’re my son’s wife, so all your assets are jointly owned and should be managed by your husband,” my mother-in-law chimed in. “I have no issue with you helping, but not with my assets!” I said. “Mark, do you have anything to add?” “Darling, you and I will earn more money and buy another flat. Let’s just give this one to Alina; it’s her birthday today.” “Are you serious?” I asked, astonished. “If it ever comes to that, you can give her half of our flat after we file for divorce!” “Aren’t you ashamed to speak to your husband like that? If you want a divorce, you’ll get one! Son, pack your things and come home. And you—you’re vile and greedy!” my mother-in-law snapped. After that, I left that crazy house. I wasn’t going to stick around with people who think they have the right to dispose of my property.
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