My Wife Was Sleeping Beside Me… and Suddenly I Received a Facebook Notification from a Woman Asking to Be Added.

Author Harlan CovingtonReading 2 minViews 1

My wife, Emily, lay beside me, the nights hush wrapping the little cottage wed made our own in the Cotswolds. Suddenly a Facebook notification popped upa stranger named Margaret asked to be added as a friend. I obliged, accepted the request, and typed, Do we know each other?

She replied, I heard youre married, yet I still love you. It turned out she was an old schoolmate, her picture as lovely as ever. I closed the chat, glanced at Emilys peaceful face, and thought how safe she felt, sleeping soundly in our new home after a hard days work.

Emily had left the bustle of her parents house in Manchester, where shed spent every hour surrounded by familyher mother soothing her tears on her lap, her brother and sister cracking jokes, her father bringing her favourite scones. Yet she placed her trust in me, a trust that warmed my heart.

All those thoughts swirled, and I lifted my phone, pressing BLOCK. I turned back to Emily, pulled the covers tighter, and fell asleep beside her.

I am a man, not a child. I swore fidelity to my wife and will keep that oath. I shall forever fight to remain the husband who never strays, never shatters the family he loves.

My Ex-Wife… It happened two years ago. My business trip was coming to an end and I was due to return home, to Alperton. After buying my ticket, I decided to wander around the city, since I still had three hours left before my journey. As I was walking, a woman approached me—and I recognised her instantly. She was my first wife, whom I’d divorced twelve years earlier. Zina hadn’t changed at all, except her face seemed almost ghostly pale. I could see the meeting unsettled her as much as it did me. I’d loved her deeply—painfully so—and that had been our undoing. I was jealous of everyone, even her own mother. If she was late, my heart would race and I’d imagine terrible things. Eventually, Zina left, unable to bear my daily interrogations—where she’d been, who with, why. One day, I came home with a little puppy tucked in my coat, wanting to surprise her with a silly present. She wasn’t there. On the table was a note. She wrote that she was leaving, that she still loved me, but my suspicion had drained her. She begged my forgiveness and pleaded that I never try to find her… And now, after twelve years apart, I’d run into her by chance in the city where work had brought me. We talked for a long time, until I suddenly remembered I might miss my coach home. Finally, I said, “Sorry, but I have to go now, I’m already late for my bus.” Then Zina said, “Alex, could you do me a favour, please? I know you’re in a hurry, but for the sake of the good times between us, don’t refuse. Come with me to an office—it’s really important to me, and I can’t go alone.” Of course, I agreed, but said, “As long as it’s quick!” We entered a large building and wandered from wing to wing, up and down staircases. I thought it took maybe fifteen minutes. People of all ages passed us—children, pensioners, everyone in between. I didn’t wonder why kids or old folks would be in an admin building; all my thoughts were with Zina. At some point, she slipped into a room and closed the door behind her. Before shutting it, she gave me a look—as if saying goodbye—and murmured, “How strange, I couldn’t be with you… but I couldn’t be without you, either.” I stood outside, waiting for her to return. I wanted to ask what she’d meant by those words. But she didn’t come back. Suddenly, I snapped out of it. I realised I absolutely had to catch my bus, and here I was, running late! Looking around nervously, I was terrified. The building was derelict—gaping holes where windows once were. There weren’t even stairs anymore, just scattered floorboards, down which I carefully picked my way. I missed my bus by a whole hour and had to buy a ticket for a later one. When I bought my new ticket, I was told that the earlier coach I’d missed had crashed into the river. No one survived. Two weeks later, I was standing at my former mother-in-law’s doorstep, having tracked her down. Mrs. Allen told me that Zina had died eleven years ago, a year after our divorce. I didn’t believe her—thought maybe she was just protecting her daughter from my jealous obsession all over again. But when I asked to be shown Zina’s grave, she surprised me by agreeing. A few hours later, I stood by a headstone, looking at the photo of the woman I’d loved my whole life—the woman who, in some impossible way, had just saved it. (Adapted Original Title:) My First Wife: A Spooky Encounter in London that Saved My Life Twelve Years After Our Divorce

02

Yesterday, I Quit My Job—No Resignation Letter, No Two Weeks’ Notice: I Set a Cake on the Table, Grabbed My Bag, and Walked Out of My Daughter’s House My “boss” was my own daughter—Caroline. For years, I thought my pay was love. But yesterday, I realized in our family’s economy, my love meant nothing next to a brand new tablet. My name is Anne, I’m 64. On paper I’m a retired nurse living on a modest pension in the suburbs, but in reality I’m a driver, cook, cleaner, home tutor, therapist, and on-call “paramedic” for my two grandsons: Max (9) and Daniel (7). I’m what they call “village”: Remember, “it takes a village to raise a child”? In modern Britain, that “village” is usually one tired granny fueled by tea, painkillers, and paracetamol. Caroline works in marketing, her husband Andrew in finance—nice people, or so I told myself. Always stressed, always rushing. Nursery’s pricey, after-school clubs are tricky. When Max was born, they looked at me like drowning people. “Mum, we can’t afford a nanny,” Caroline sobbed. “We trust only you.” So I agreed—I didn’t want to be a burden; I became the support. My day began at 5:45am—off to their house, making actual porridge (not instant, because Daniel won’t eat quick oats), packing the kids, driving to school, cleaning floors and loos I never used, back for pickups, clubs, homework, football, English lessons. I’m the “no” granny, the rule granny. And then there’s Linda—Andrew’s mum: sea-view flat, face-lifts, new car, holidays. She sees the boys twice a year. Doesn’t know Max’s allergies, can’t calm Daniel’s maths tantrums, never wiped sick off a car seat. She’s the “fun” granny. Yesterday was Max’s ninth birthday. With little money, I wanted a real gift—I spent three months knitting a weighted blanket in his favourite colours, baked a proper cake. At 4:15 the door rang—Linda breezed in: perfume, styling, shopping bags—”Where are my boys?!” My grandsons pushed past me to get to her. “Gran!” She pulled out branded bags—”Didn’t know what you liked, so I got the newest thing.” Two deluxe gaming tablets—no limits, she winked, “Today my rules!” Chaos. Cake forgotten. Guests ignored. Caroline and Andrew beamed. “Linda, you spoil them,” Andrew said, pouring wine. I stood with my blanket. “Max, I’ve a gift, and the cake…” He didn’t look up. “Not now, Gran—I’m levelling up.” “I spend all winter—” He sighed, “Gran, no one wants blankets. Linda got tablets. Why are you always boring? All you bring is food or clothes.” I looked to Caroline, hoping she’d step in. She laughed awkwardly. “Mum, don’t be upset. He’s a kid. Tablets are more fun. Linda’s the ‘fun granny.’ You’re our everyday granny.” Everyday granny—like everyday dishes, everyday traffic. Needed, but invisible. “I wish Linda lived here,” Daniel piped up. “She doesn’t force us to do homework.” Something snapped inside me. I folded the blanket, put it on the table, took off my apron. “Caroline, I’m done.” “Done with what? Slicing cake?” “No. Done.” I took my bag. “I’m not your home appliance. I’m your mother.” “Mum, where are you going?” she cried. “My big presentation tomorrow—who’ll take the kids?” “No idea. Sell a tablet, maybe. Or let ‘fun gran’ stay.” “Mum, we need you!” I stopped. “That’s the point. You need me—but you don’t see me.” I walked out. Today I woke at nine, made coffee, sat outside. For the first time in years, my back didn’t ache. I love my grandchildren. But I won’t live as unpaid help disguised as ‘family’ anymore. Love isn’t self-destruction—and Grandma isn’t a resource. If you want a rule granny, you respect the rules. For now…maybe I’ll take up dancing. They say that’s what ‘fun grannies’ do.

010

Anna Peterson sat on a hospital bench in the garden, crying. Today was her 70th birthday, but neither her son nor her daughter visited or called to wish her well. Only her ward mate, Mrs. Eugenia Smith, remembered her and even gave her a small present, and the orderly, Mary, gifted her an apple for her birthday. The care home was decent, but the staff were mostly indifferent. Everyone knew it was a place where children sent their elderly parents when they became a burden. Anna’s son brought her here, claiming it was just for some rest and treatment, but in reality, she was simply in the way of his wife. The flat had belonged to Anna, but her son convinced her to sign it over to him, promising she’d still live at home. In fact, the whole family then moved in, and the arguments with her daughter-in-law began. At first, her son defended her, then he stopped and eventually started snapping at her himself. When he and his wife began whispering and fell silent when Anna entered the room, she sensed something was wrong. One morning, her son told her she needed a break and some medical care. Anna, looking him in the eye, bitterly asked, “You’re putting me in a care home, aren’t you?” Embarrassed, he insisted, “No, Mum, it’s just a nursing home for a month, then you’ll come back.” He dropped her off, hastily signed the forms, and left, promising to visit soon. He only came by once, bringing two apples and two oranges, asked how she was, and rushed off without listening. She’s now been here two years. A month after arriving, with no sign of her son, Anna called home, only to hear strangers’ voices—her son had sold the flat and vanished. Anna cried a few nights but resigned herself—she would never go home. The worst part was knowing she had pushed her daughter away in favour of her son. Anna had grown up and married in a village, where life was simple but content. The allure of city life, promised by a city neighbour, led Anna and her husband Peter to sell everything and move. At first things were good, but Peter died in a car accident, leaving Anna alone with two children. She scrubbed stairwells to make ends meet, hoping her children would help her one day. But life led her son astray, and she went into debt to keep him out of trouble. Her daughter, Dasha, married and had a child, but soon her son fell sick and required long hospital visits. Dasha’s husband left, and she later met a widower with a daughter who had the same illness. Anna had saved money for her son to buy a flat, and when Dasha asked for help for her stepdaughter’s operation, Anna refused, thinking her own son needed the money more. Dasha was devastated, told her mother not to come to her in times of need, and they never spoke again. Dasha managed to heal her stepson, and the family moved to the coast, leaving Anna alone for twenty years. If she could, Anna would choose differently, but the past can’t be changed. Rising from the bench, Anna heard, “Mum!” and turned to see Dasha, who caught her as she nearly collapsed from shock. “At last, I found you. Your brother wouldn’t give your address—he only cooperated after I threatened legal action over the flat. I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you for so long. I dreamed of you last week, lost and crying in the forest, and I knew I had to find you. My husband told me to make peace. Our house is by the sea, you’ll love it. Come home with me.” Anna clung to her daughter and cried, but this time they were tears of joy. “Honour your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.”

04

That Morning, Michael James Felt Worse. He Was Struggling to Breathe. “Nicholas, I don’t need anything—none of your medicines, nothing. Just please, let me say goodbye to my Friend. I beg you. Unhook all of this from me…” He nodded to the IV drips. “I can’t go like this. You understand, I just can’t…” A tear traced down his cheek. Nicholas knew if he disconnected everything, Michael might not make it to the door. The men from the ward gathered around. “Nicholas, surely something can be done? It’s not right, this isn’t right…” “I know…I do. But this is a hospital—everything sterile, by the book.” “To hell with that…Look, the man can’t leave in peace.” Nicholas understood. But what could he do? He stood up. He could do anything. To hell with the rules, to hell with his father’s business. If they fire him, so be it. He abruptly turned, locking eyes with Anna. Admiration was written all over her face. Nicholas ran out to the street. “Friend, I’m asking you, be quiet—maybe no one will notice. Come on, let’s go see your master.” He’d just opened the door when Emma Edwards blocked his way. “And what is this?” “Emma Edwards…please, I’m begging you. Five minutes. Let them say goodbye. If you must, fire me after.” She was silent for a moment. Who knows what was going through her mind, but then she stepped aside. “Alright. Let them fire me too then.” “Friend, with me!” Nicholas raced down the hospital corridor, Friend beside him. Ahead, Anna opened the door. The dog, as if sensing something, bounded ahead—another leap and Friend was at Michael James’s bedside, front paws on the mattress. A hush fell over the ward. Michael opened his eyes, tried to raise a hand, but the IV lines tangled him. So he ripped them out with his other hand. “Friend! You came…” The dog laid his head on Michael’s chest. Michael petted him—once, twice. He smiled… the smile lingered on his lips. His hand slipped away. Someone said, “The dog’s crying…” Nicholas approached the bed. Friend truly was weeping. “That’s it. Let’s go…let’s go…” *** Nicholas perched on the garden wall, while Friend disappeared into the bushes to lie down. One of the ward mates—who’d once handed over his own dinner—came by, offering up a pack of cigarettes. Nicholas looked at him, meant to say he didn’t smoke, then changed his mind. He lit up. Anna sat beside him. Her eyes were red and her nose puffy. “Anna…today’s my last day.” “Why?” “You see, at first I was here as punishment, then to prove to Dad I could do it… He was going to give me the business. But it’s not about the business. I can’t do this. I’m going home. I’ll just tell him—your son’s no good. I’m sorry, Anna…” Nicholas left. He handed in his notice and packed his things. Anna watched from the window as he pulled up in his Mercedes, got out, opened the passenger door, and headed for the bushes. After saying something softly to Friend, he returned to the car and waited. The dog joined him five minutes later, staring into Nicholas’s eyes before leaping in. Anna wept again. “You’re not useless, Nicholas! You’re the best!” *** A few days later Anna saw a man, who looked an awful lot like Nicholas, walking with the chief doctor. She rushed down the stairs and out to the street. “Are you Nicholas’s dad?” The chief looked surprised. “Anna, what’s going on?” “Wait, Dr. Nicholas, you can fire me later! So are you his dad?” Vadim Oliver looked baffled by this petite girl with the lovely freckles. “I am.” “You mustn’t! Do you hear me? You mustn’t believe Nicholas is useless! He’s the best! He was the only one brave enough to help a dying man say goodbye to his friend! Nicholas has a heart and a soul!” Anna turned and marched back inside. Vadim Oliver smiled. “Did you see that?” The chief replied, “So what can you do? She’s a good kid, but always insists on the truth!” “That so bad?” “Not always good…” *** Three years passed. Out of a beautiful house came an entire family. Nicholas pushed the pram, while Anna held the lead of a magnificent dog. At the riverside, Anna let the dog run. “Friend, don’t wander too far!” The dog bounded to the river. In a couple of minutes, the child in the pram let out a cry. Friend raced back to the pram in two massive leaps. Anna laughed. “Nicholas, looks like we won’t need a nanny! What’s the matter? Oh, Sonya just lost her dummy.” The baby soon slept again. Friend peered into the pram, made sure all was well, and dashed off after a butterfly…

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📌 Useful Social Services & Contacts in the U.S.

Stay informed and get help when you need it. Below are key national services with direct contacts that may support you or your loved ones:
🏥 Health & Mental Support

SAMHSA – Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration

What they do: Free and confidential help with substance use and mental health disorders.

Hotline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357) – 24/7, anonymous support

Website: samhsa.gov

🧒 Support for Children & Families

WIC – Women, Infants, and Children Program

What they do: Nutritional and healthcare support for pregnant women, new mothers, and young children.

Federal Info Line: 1-800-522-5006

Find local WIC office: fns.usda.gov/wic

My Wife Was Sleeping Beside Me… and Suddenly I Received a Facebook Notification from a Woman Asking to Be Added.