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 hands, and his voice cracked so convincingly that Emily found herself leaning in. You know, when someone betrays you, its like a piece of you just disappears. She left me absolutely shattered. I seriously thought Id never be able to pick up the pieces

Alex kept talking, letting out heavy sighs every now and then, sharing all about his ex-wife who never truly valued him, the pain that never really faded, how starting over felt absolutely terrifying. Every word sank right into Emilys heart, warm and weighty. She was already picturing herself as the woman whod show him love wasnt out of reach. The one whod help him heal. Theyd patch things up together and hed finally see that being properly happyreal, bone-deep, laugh-until-it-hurts happywas only possible with her.

Alex only mentioned Daniel on their second date, between banoffee pie and a round of coffees

By the way, Ive got a son. Hes seven. Lives with his mum, but I have him every weekend. The court made it official.
Honestly, thats wonderful! Emily beamed. Kids are the best sort of happiness.

Shed already begun sketching out scenes in her head: lazy Saturday breakfasts for three, trips to Hyde Park, cosy evenings curled up in front of the telly. Daniel would probably appreciate a touch of extra care, a bit more warmth. She pictured herself being like a second mumnot a replacement, obviously, but someone he could count on and call his own…

Youre really alright with that? Alex looked at her with a strange little smirk that Emily chalked up to nerves at the time. A lot of women clear off when they hear about the kid.
Im not a lot of women, she replied, chin up.

Those first weekends with Daniel were an utter joy. Emily made his favourite breakfastblueberry pancakes (Alex had given her a tip). She patiently sat with him and his maths homework, explaining times tables in ways that actually made sense. She washed his dinosaur t-shirt, ironed his school uniforms, made sure everything was ready for the next school day, and tucked him into bed at nine on the dot.

You should put your feet up she said to Alex one evening, noticing how hed sprawled out on the sofa, TV remote in hand. Ive got this covered.

Alex noddedor at least, she thought it was a grateful nod back then. Now she understood: it was more like the sort of nod you give when you assume things as your right.

Months slipped into years. Emily worked as a manager at a logistics firm, out of the house by eight, back by seven in the evening. The pay was decentas far as London goes, anyway. It covered two people. But, of course, there were three of them.

Delays at the site again, Alex would say, as if the world was ending. The clients dropped out. But theres a big contract coming, I swear.

That big contract had been drifting around for a year and a halfsometimes right on the horizon, sometimes further away, but never actually arriving. But the bills kept dropping through the letterbox with clockwork precision: rent, council tax, the electricity, broadband, a full fridge, child maintenance to Lucy, new trainers for Daniel, school fees. Emily footed all of it, quietly. She saved on lunches, packed pasta for work, stubbornly walked in the rain instead of forking out for a taxi. She hadnt splashed out on a manicure in a yearjust filed her nails herself, trying to ignore that shed once happily spent on salon trips.

In three years, Alex bought her flowers exactly three times. Emily could recall every bouquet: sad-looking roses from the 24-hour stand by the tube, already drooping a bit, stems scuffed and bruised, probably on clearance.

The first was an apology the time Alex called her hysterical in front of Daniel. The second was after an argument sparked by her friend dropping by unexpectedly. The third came after he missed her birthdayhed lost track of time at the pub with his mates, or really, just plain forgot.

Alex, Im not after fancy things, she kept her voice soft, picking her words with care. But it would be nice sometimes to know youre thinking of me. Even just a card would do

His face instantly twisted.

Is it all about money for you? Is that what this is? Just presents? What about love? Have you even stopped to think about what Ive been through?
Its not about that
You havent earned it. Alex spit the words at her like mud. After all I do for you, and you have the cheek to complain.

Emily fell silent. She always didit made everything easier. Easier to live, easier to breathe, easier to pretend everything was totally fine.

But, funnily enough, Alex could always rustle up cash when it came to beers with the lads. Football at the pub, a curry house on Thursdays, another round down the boozer. Hed waltz in late, a bit tipsy, reeking of sweat and tobacco, and crash out in bed without so much as a glance Emilys way, even if she was still awake.

Shed convinced herself: this is just how it goes. Love is sacrifice. Love is patience. Hed change. He must. Just give it a bit longer. Show him even more love. Hold on tighter. Hes been so badly hurt, after all

Any talk about marriage became a bit like tip-toeing through a minefield.

Were happy as we are, arent we? Whats the point of a piece of paper? Alex would bat the subject off like a bothersome fly. After what Lucy put me through, I need time, okay?
Three years, Alex. Three years is a long time.
Youre always pushing me. Always! hed grumble, stomping off to the other room, ending things right there.

Emily desperately wanted children. Her own. She was twenty-eight. Her biological clock wasnt just ticking, it was pounding away. But Alex wasnt up for ithed done fatherhood already, and in his eyes, that was more than enough.

On a Saturday, all she asked for was one day. Just one.

The girls have asked me round. We havent caught up in ages. Ill be back in the evening.

Alex looked at her like shed just announced she was moving to Australia.

And Daniel?
Hes your son. You can have a day with him.
So youre abandoning us? On a Saturday? When I was hoping to have a quiet day?

Emily blinked. Then again. In three years, she had never left the two of them on their own. Not once asked for a free day. She cooked, cleaned, helped with homework, did the laundry, ironingall while holding down a full-time job.

I just want to see my friends for a few hours And hes your son, Alex. Surely you can manage a dayjust one daywith your own child?
You owe it to me to love my son as much as you love me! Alex suddenly yelled. You live in my flat, eat my food, and now youve got the nerve to have an attitude?!

His flat. His food. Emily covered the rent for that flat. Emily bought the groceries, out of her own pocket. Shed supported a bloke for three yearsone who would yell at her for taking a day for herself.

She stared at Alex: his twisted face, the vein bulging on his temple, fists clenchedand properly saw him for the first time. Not a poor soul. Not a lost spirit who needed rescuing. Just a grown man whod figured out how to squeeze kindness for all it was worth. She wasnt a beloved partner or future wife to him. Just a walking bank account. Free help, at best. That was it.

When Alex left to take Daniel back to Lucy, Emily pulled out her duffle bag. Her hands moved smoothlyno shaking, not an ounce of doubt. Passport. Phone. Charger. A couple of t-shirts. Jeans. Everything else? She could buy it later. None of it mattered now.

She didnt bother with a note. What was the point explaining anything to someone who never valued you anyway?

The front door shut behind her quietly, no drama

Within an hour, the calls started. One, then another, then a whole barrageher phone vibrating non-stop.

Emily, where are you?! Whats going on?! I come home, youre not here! Whats this about?! Wheres dinner? Am I just supposed to starve? Bloody hell, absolute disgrace!

She listened to his voicefurious, demanding, overflowing with righteous angerand felt genuine disbelief. Even now, after shed gone, Alex thought only of himself. His inconvenience. Who was going to sort out his meal now? Not a single Sorry. Not a single Are you alright? Just How dare you?

Emily blocked his number. Found him on WhatsAppblocked. Facebookblocked. Any little corner he had access to, she slammed the door shut.

Three years. Three years living with a man who never loved her. Who used her goodness as if it were nothing. Who had convinced her that giving yourself upsacrificing yourselfwas love.

But thats not what love is. Love doesnt make you small. Love doesnt turn a real, living person into a servant.

She walked through the evening streets of London, breathing easily for the first time in ages. She swore to herselfnever again would she mistake love for self-neglect. Never again would she rescue someone just because they wore their sadness like a badge.

And always, always, shed choose herself first. Just herself.