The Next Day, Our Neighbour Was Leaning Over Our Fence Again. My Wife Went Over and Told Her We Had a Lot to Do Today and Couldn’t Chat Like Yesterday. “What About Tomorrow?” Barbara Asked Curiously. “It’ll Be the Same Tomorrow. In Fact, Please Stop Coming Over.”

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 4 minViews 1

The next morning, our neighbour was hanging onto our garden fence once more. My wife went out to her and explained that we had a great deal of work to see to that day, so couldnt sit and chat as we had before. What about tomorrow, then? asked Barbara, ever curious. The same tomorrow, Im afraid. In fact, perhaps its best not to call on us again.

My wish to live in the city brought me little good, in the end.

You see, my wife inherited a cottage in the countryside. When her mother and father were still alive, we often visited. I have fond memories of those evenings supper laid out beneath the old pear tree, and us talking away until the daylight faded into dusk. It was always the same warm welcome when we called. In winter, mother-in-law would get the stove blazing, with freshly-baked scones or cakes gracing the table, the whole house carrying that wonderful, homely scent.

My wife and I both loved going for a bit of sledging in the snow or skiing when the weather allowed. Then, sadly, her parents passed away. We kept hold of the cottage, telling ourselves wed visit as often as we had before. Somehow, we never did.

Life seemed to have an endless list of things to do. Time wore on, and the old cottage slipped from our thoughts. The years drifted quietly by. Our son met a lovely girl and married her. Our daughter-in-law Katherine would mention now and then how nice it would be to spend the summers in the country.

It was this that returned the cottage to our minds. My wife and I made the journey first. It had been far too long since our last visit, and we expected the worst. But though everything was a little careworn, it was just as wed left it.

We decided to give the place a thorough tidy. Anne set to work indoors, while I cleaned the garden. Id half-thought the house would have fallen into disrepair with all those empty years, but no. A bit of effort and it was transformed. The following day, the children arrived and lent a hand. By evening, the old cottage was clean and inviting again. The ladies prepared supper, and my son and I went to mend the rickety table and benches under the pear tree.

Thats when we noticed a woman on the other side of the fence, watching us. She introduced herself, explaining shed recently purchased the house next door and wished to make our acquaintance. Being civil folk, we invited her to join us for supper. Her name was Barbara. She explained she lived alone now, having bought a house for her daughter, who had three children herself. Barbara said she was divorced and filled the air with talk, though after some time, I stopped listening.

It was then that I suddenly felt something brushing against my leg beneath the table. I glanced below and realised it was the neighbours foot. I quickly moved away, but she kept trying to touch me with her foot. Id never experienced anything like it, and sat frozen, unsure how to respond without causing a scene, all while hoping my wife wouldnt notice. Still Barbara chatted away, heedless. The children had begun to complain they were tired, and I wished our guest would take her leave. As we cleared up, my wife remarked that Barbara was not a very serious woman, and I found I quite agreed. I didnt mention her behaviour under the table it embarrassed me, and I suspect shed played that little game with other men before.

The following day, there she was, lingering at the fence once again. My wife went out to her and told her we were too busy to receive guests.

What about tomorrow? Barbara pressed.

Tomorrow will be the same. Please dont come by again.

How brave my wife was. Barbara muttered and huffed for a long time after that, but I paid her no mind. I felt, truly, my wife had done the right thing. We are honest and straightforward folk; we know immediately whether we care for someone or not, and if not, well, we neednt invite them into our lives.

When Beatrice Discovered She Was Expecting, Her Family Was Shocked—They Disapproved of Her Relationship with a Man They Believed Wouldn’t Stay, Fearing She’d Raise a Child Alone and Face Social Prejudice Beatrice is an ordinary young woman from Birmingham, brought up in a loving family by her mother and stepfather, who was like a real dad to her. With her parents’ unwavering support, she always knew she was loved and could rely on them. Beatrice graduated from high school, but her place at university was uncertain due to her poor command of English. She decided that private tuition would help her pick up the language faster, so she started looking for a tutor. She chose Ronnie, originally from Ghana, who had come to the UK for his own studies. Fluent in English, Ronnie had been tutoring privately for years. At first, the lessons were tough for Beatrice, but over time she warmed to Ronnie, and soon their relationship became something much more. They couldn’t stand being apart. When Beatrice found out she was pregnant, her whole family was in shock. The idea of her being in a relationship with someone they thought wouldn’t stick around filled them with concern. They imagined her raising the baby alone and having to cope with their child standing out from others because of her appearance. After Ronnie received his degree, he did return to Ghana, but he stayed in close contact with Beatrice. They both eagerly awaited the birth of their baby, calling and chatting on Zoom regularly. Beatrice’s baby arrived safely, but ongoing animosity from her family pushed her to make the tough decision to move to Ghana. Life in Africa wasn’t easy for Beatrice and her husband: the climate proved too challenging and they had to return to the UK. In time, they welcomed their second daughter. However, the family continued to refuse contact, and Beatrice refused to leave her beloved husband just to please them. Now, the couple are planning a move to Canada, hopeful that there, they’ll find a more tolerant community.

My Son Spent Years Searching for the Right Woman to Marry, and I Never Questioned His Choices—When He Turned 30, He Finally Met Emma, Who Seemed Perfect for Him Almost every day, I’d hear about how kind and beautiful she was—it was clear my son had truly fallen in love. I liked Emma as well, and he would speak passionately about her to me and his friends, convinced she was the ideal woman for him, so it was no surprise when he didn’t hesitate to tie the knot. As a loving mother, I fully supported his decision. Planning the wedding was no easy feat, but my friends were a tremendous help. The bride’s parents were wonderful and we got on splendidly from the start. At first, everything was blissful, but things shifted over time. Their marriage started to unravel, arguments became more frequent, and I reminded myself it was just their first year—surely things would settle down. Still, I worried because I wanted their marriage to be strong and happy. One evening truly shook me—late at night, my son showed up at my door with his belongings, telling me he had nowhere to go because his wife had thrown him out. He stayed with me for a few days, and Emma never once came round to try to reconcile. This became a recurring pattern. When my daughter-in-law told me she was pregnant, I decided to sit down with them to offer some advice that might help avoid further misunderstandings. Unfortunately, it made things worse—tensions only increased, and my son spent the night at my house even more often. I could see he was struggling; gone was the happy young man I knew, replaced by someone clearly disappointed with life. I couldn’t bear to see my son so miserable in a toxic relationship, so I suggested he think carefully about whether it was worth staying married. I told him he could be a wonderful father even if he lived separately. He soon filed for divorce. Not long afterwards, Emma came to me, asking for my help to persuade my son to call off the divorce, insisting she didn’t want to break up their family. I’d often advised her to look after her marriage, but now she was blaming me for interfering when my son filed for divorce. Now I wonder if I should have encouraged my son to end his marriage. His wife resents me, and my son himself seems to be drifting further away from me. Perhaps they still love each other? Living apart feels wrong, but living together wasn’t working either.

My Son’s Girlfriend Can’t Do the Basics… What Should I Do? My mother-in-law passed away several years ago, and after her funeral, I promised myself that I’d live by the rule: for the departed, it’s either all good or nothing at all. I also swore to myself—no matter who married my son—I would never turn into her. But intentions are one thing, and life is another. My only son, Alex, just turned 25 and brought home a girlfriend at the start of summer. Sticking to my decision not to interfere in his choices, I welcomed her warmly and tried to keep an open mind. I swore I wouldn’t look down on her, nitpick, or lecture—my late mother-in-law did all that, which led us to barely stand each other. I don’t want to drive Alex or his girlfriend away. Honestly, I even enjoy making them coffee, knowing exactly how they like their breakfast, and spoiling them on weekends—even though weekdays are too busy for any extras. So I make myself scarce—off with my husband to the countryside, visiting friends for chutney and pickling sessions, or popping round to my mum, leaving the young couple the house to themselves. Recently, though, something funny but also a little worrying happened, and I felt compelled to share. One evening, Alex’s girlfriend showed off a pretty, cheap new top she bought on her way home from work—a bargain because one of the buttons was missing. She tried it on, it looked lovely—and the next day, when I asked if she’d wear it to our visit, she didn’t. Why? Because… she couldn’t sew the button back on. “Oh, come on!” slipped out before I could stop myself—I was stunned that a 22-year-old woman didn’t own a needle, thread, or spare buttons. And tomorrow, darling, what then? How will you manage the house and family, or handle important decisions? Family challenges indeed! Now I don’t know what to do—should I just sew the button back on without another thought, show her how it’s done, or leave it—her blouse, her business? One thing’s clear—I don’t want to be a ‘bad’ mother-in-law. I’ve seen what that’s like, and I want no part of it.