З життя
Заборонений дотик: Мамина команда зупинила дівчинку
На майданчику у парку маленька дівчинка, років шести, Настя, зупинилась і витягнула руку до котика. – Настя, не можна! – пролунало попередження мами, і дівчинка миттєво відсмикнула руку. – Не чіпай його, відійди! Дивись, який він негарний! Кіт, якого Настя тільки-но гладила, кинув ображений погляд на маму дівчини, зітхнув і відійшов у бік. Він часто чув такі слова від людей і вже розумів, що вони означають.
Кіт і справді виглядав кепсько: під рудою шерстю виднілися гострі кістки, ребра випирали, а хвіст нагадував тоненьку, вузлувату паличку. На фоні худоби виділялася його голова – велика, з обмороженими вухами, широким носом і очима, в яких жила печаль.
Микола, що проходив повз, повернувся на мамин голос і намагався зрозуміти, до кого він звернений. Він знайшов поглядом кота, який сидів під лавкою і дивився в пустоту, не моргаючи. “Негарний”. Він і сам знав, що його часто так вважають, і сьогодні почув, як дівчата з його групи обговорювали це: “Коля – хороший, веселий хлопець, і в математиці чудово розбирається! Але уявіть собі дітей від нього – такими ж некрасивими будуть!” Марина, посміхаючись, щось сказала подружкам, і ті засміялися. Микола почервонів, розгорнувся і вийшов з аудиторії. Напевно, вони його й не помітили.
Багато молодих людей часто дивляться в дзеркало, намагаючись підкреслити приємні риси свого обличчя: осліпливу усмішку, ямочки на підборідді або щоках. А що було підкреслювати Миколі? Відстовбурчені вуха? Великі ластовиння, розкидані по всьому обличчю? Широкі скули або гостре підборіддя? Очі невизначеного кольору під важкими повіками, зменшені лінзами окулярів з великою “мінусовою” діоптрією? Ні, нічого особливого в його зовнішності не було, тому він не любив дивитися в дзеркало.
З ним усе зрозуміло, а за котика йому було боляче. Він зовсім не був схожий на тих домашніх пухнастиків, які одним своїм виглядом можуть зробити затишок і настрій у домі. Але чи це його провина? Йому й так не щастить від самого народження – ні даху над головою, ні ситної їжі. А ще й зовнішність…
– Виходить, що мені більше пощастило, – подумав Микола, – у мене є житло й бабуся, яка тільки й мріє смачно нагодувати. У мене є майбутнє, нехай не таке, як я б хотів, але воно є! А що є в тебе?
Він сів на лавку, під якою ховався котик. Той відчув присутність людини й зазвичай хотів піти, але раптом почув:
– Ну що, бродяго? Теж сумуєш? Сідай поруч, тут не так мерзнутимуть лапки. Поділимо наш смуток на двох.
Кіт недовірливо слухав Миколу, вуха його тремтіли від розумового напруження: “Що йому від мене потрібно? Що він хоче? Невже йому конче потрібно поговорити зі мною, з таким виродком? Чи просто – так він хоче приспати мою пильність, щоб потім боляче образити? Але все одно – нехай говорить хоч що-небудь. Адже це він говорить мені!”
Кіт не став опиратися, коли його підхопили з землі теплі руки хлопця і посадили на лавку поруч із собою.
– Ми з тобою чимось схожі, кіт, – неголосно мовив Микола. – Не лише зовнішністю, хоча – так, зовнішність у нас у обох незграбна, кожен по-своєму. Ми з тобою схожі ще й внутрішньо. Нас не зустрічають радісними усмішками, з нами неохоче спілкуються, дивно було б, якби тебе чи мене запросили в компанію для веселого проведення часу. Тому ми звикли бути на самоті. І знаєш, що найстрашніше – здається, що самотність триватиме все життя!
Кіт уважно вислухав хлопця, дивлячись йому в очі, і обережно нявкнув:
– Але ж ти запросив мене в свою компанію! Тепер нас двоє, ми розмовляємо. Не знаю, навіщо тобі це потрібно, але повір – хоч це для мене було неочікувано, але дуже приємно! За кілька хвилин спілкування з тобою я готовий навіть пожертвувати обгорткою ковбаси, яку заховав у купі цегли біля входу в підвал! Ой, зря я це зробив – інші коти її з’їдять!
– Ти, мабуть, голодний, кіт? – здогадався Микола. – Звісно, голодний! Якщо погодишся почекати мене кілька хвилин, я повернуся з їжею для тебе. Посидиш тут до мого повернення?
– Ні! – несподівано нявкнув кіт. – Краще я піду з тобою й почекаю тебе у дверей магазину!
Микола уважно подивився на касирку – жінку середнього віку, приємну. Напевно, гарна, добра й дбайлива мати сімейства…
Кіт, дочекавшись Миколи на ґанку, супроводив його до лавки, де з великою насолодою з’їв два пакетики корму. Хоч і дешевого, але йому здавалося, що смачнішого він ще ніколи не куштував. Швидко вмивши мордочку, він знову підійнявся на лавку і вмостився поруч зі своїм новим знайомим. Випадкова трапеза зламала стіну недовіри, і тепер уже котик неголосно муркотів Миколі:
Микола слухав, як муркоче кіт, і сум потроху розсіювався. Похмурі думки десь зникли, а на серці потепліло від простого, але щирого вдячного мурчання кота. Піддавшись цьому почуттю, він опустив долоню на велику голову кота і обережно погладив. Кіт застиг, не вірячи своєму щастю, а коли Микола ніжно почухав його за вухом, він витягнувся на лавці і притулився до нього спинкою; “Ось воно – щастя!” – говорив його вигляд, і мордочка тепер була не потворною, а милою й лагідною.
– Я бачу, тобі знайома ця біль у серці, коли тебе відкидають, – сумно усміхнувся Микола. – Тому я тебе не зраджу. Посидимо ще трохи і підемо до мене додому. Бабуся, думаю, не буде проти, вона зовсім не така, як ця касирка з магазину. Підеш зі мною?
– Хоч на ешафот, хоч на вогнище! – щиро нявкнув кіт і віддано подивився в очі єдиного дорогого йому на той момент друга.
– Залазь під куртку, дощ починається, – Микола розстебнув куртку, і кіт, не чекаючи повторного запрошення, юркнув у тепло. – Ось і у мене душа теплішає, – усміхався Микола, – думав, ніколи не зігріється після того, як почув, як вона сміється надо мною разом з подружками…
Краплі дощу з мокрим снігом раптом перестали падати на двох друзів – над ними розкрився парасолька, яскрава, жіноча. Микола обернувся – за спинкою лавки стояла Марина і тримала парасольку, захищаючи їх від негоди.
– Дурненький ти, Коля, – усміхалася вона.
Микола насупився і знайшов у собі сили м’яко відсунути в сторону парасольку:
– Не треба, Марино. Я чув, як твої подружки сміялися з мене, а потім з твоїх слів.
– Шкода, що ти не чув мої слова. – Усміхнулася дівчина. – Я сказала їм, що хотіла б мати купу дітей, і щоб батьком був ти! Як мінімум – трьох, двох хлопчиків та дівчинку. Чомусь це їм видалося смішним.
– І кота! – виглянув з-під куртки кіт.
– І обов’язково кота! – Засміялася Марина.
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...
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...
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...
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...
“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...
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...
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.
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