Hans, Was Your Little Lottie Visiting Again? The Fridge Is Always Empty After She Pops Round!

Author Emily TaylorReading 11 minViews 1

Your friend was over again, wasnt she? The fridge is always empty after she visits!

Charles, was your dear little Margaret here again? asked Elizabeth as she looked into the half-empty fridge. Its uncanny how all our food is gone after she drops by.

Yes, she came round, replied Charles. She complained again about having no money. Can’t send her away empty-handed, can I? She is my sister after all.

Did you give Margaret a bit of money as well?

Just a few hundred pounds, Charles admitted sheepishly. Margaret told me that Edwards got more trouble at work, and they cant even pay the rent at the moment.

Who would have thought I never understood why she had to marry at just twenty. Why didnt your mother stop her?

You know Margaret, dont you? Once she sets her mind on something, theres no stopping her. But dont fret, shell have to get used to managing on her own sooner or later.

Elizabeth sighed deeply. Self-sufficiency was all well and good, but so far, Margaret had only known how to live at her relatives expense.

* * *

Edward, still such a young man, was only just earning his keep. He seemed in no hurry to shower his wife with gifts. Margaret refused to work, certain it was Edwards place to provide for her.

Their mother, Mrs. Martha Bennett, was also squarely on Margarets side. She saw her daughters young family struggling with money and was always there to lend Margaret something, pressing Charles to help as well.

Shes just a young girl and must keep up appearances, Martha insisted. Margaret hasnt found a job that pleases her, and Edward is miserly. It’s only right that we step in to help.

And so Charles did what he could. But Elizabeth wearily wondered why a chunk of her husbands wages should go to his sister while the two of them pinched pennies in a rented flat, doing everything they could to one day own a place of their own and still, the sister ended up with so much.

* * *

One day Elizabeth arrived home to find her mother-in-law and Margaret there. They were whispering with Charles but fell silent the moment they saw her. Clearly, it was a serious matter. Elizabeth inquired:

Is there anything I ought to know? I get the feeling youre after more financial help from our side.

Oh, not at all! Martha chuckled. This is family business, nothing for you to worry about.

Elizabeth snorted and went to the kitchen to prepare supper. Not five minutes later, Margaret sashayed in, opened the fridge without so much as a by-your-leave, then sighed with disappointment:

Why is it so empty? Elizabeth, havent you been shopping?

Yes, I have, Elizabeth replied, a touch sharp. But I dont get paid for two days, so Ive only bought the essentials. If youre hungry, I can warm up some soup.

No, thank you. I never bother with things like that. I dont pay for plain food I order pizza, sushi, or eat out with Edward.

Does Edwards pay cover such treats? But youre always saying youve no money.

Then I ask Mum or Charles for help. Thats what familys for, isnt it?

Soon Martha and Margaret left. Elizabeth wasted no time in turning to her husband to ask for details.

Mother wants to sell the cottage and shes come asking a favour. She plans to give all the money to Margaret. She says shes young and needs a little help to get started.

What do you mean? said Elizabeth, astonished. Does it not bother you that all the money goes to your sister? I, as your wife, dont agree with this at all. I dont think it will do Margaret any good either.

You ought not meddle, Elizabeth, Charles said gravely. The cottage is Mums to do with as she will.

Wanting no more of the debate, Charles left the room. He truly believed his mother was right, and secretly felt proud to be so generous and sacrificial when it came to Margaret.

* * *

The cottage was sold before long. Elizabeth wasnt surprised to see that Margaret had no plans to use the money wisely. Restaurants, the latest fashions, expensive gadgets everything went on living the high life.

When the money ran out, Margaret was back at her mothers, complaining:

Now Im broke again! I want driving lessons and need to buy a car! Isnt there anything else you could sell? Other parents buy their children flats and support them Why are we so poor, Mum?

Even Martha was left speechless at this outburst. She hadnt expected her daughter to burn through all that money so quickly. After composing herself, she said:

Weve nothing else to sell, Margaret. I hoped youd use it wisely, maybe put some aside. Its time you found work. Youre trained as a bookkeeper, why not try to get on at a firm?

I refuse to be a bookkeeper! Staring at a computer all day, wrecking my eyes? My husband and you are meant to provide for me. Im only twenty! Did you raise me just to throw me to the wolves? Thanks for that!

Hold on, Martha tried to soothe her. Well figure something out. What if we ask Charles for money? Say its for something important. They must have some left over from putting money away for their flat.

Do you think theyll give much? That Elizabeth is dreadfully stingy she scrimps even on groceries. Thank goodness Charles is always ready to help.

Well, lets go! said Martha, determinedly. Dont worry, nobody can turn me down.

An hour later Margaret and her mother arrived at Charles flat. Elizabeth immediately saw there were no gifts, just demands.

Charles, its terribly important! Martha cried upon entering. Only you can help us.

Elizabeth tensed, Well, here it comes another plea for money! she thought. Hard to imagine anything else.

Whats happened?

Margaret wants to buy a car and the money from the cottage is all gone, Martha said, blushing slightly. So we thought you could help.

Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears.

What? Youve already spent the cottage money? It was a tidy sum! Margaret, you need to be more thoughtful with your spending!

Dont tell me what to do! Margaret snapped. Im a young woman with standards, not some nobody off the jumble sale! Yes, I want to visit restaurants, go to beauty salons and have nice things. I wont squander my youth in poverty!

Ever thought of getting a job? quipped Elizabeth caustically. It might spare you begging from the relatives.

Charles, always averse to arguments, tried to restore peace:

Lets not be hasty. We dont exactly have car money, but perhaps we can spare something.

Well done, son! Martha beamed. I knew youd be on our side.

Am I not to be consulted? snapped Elizabeth. Sorry, but I wont be funding Margaret. Shes a married woman; let her husband provide. Theres no money from me end of story!

Charles glanced uncomfortably at his mother, then tried to placate Elizabeth:

Come on, Elizabeth. Its our money I should have a say in its use. Besides, Mum only wants a loan, shell pay it back.

Of course Ill pay it back! Or do you take me for a scoundrel? I just want to help Margaret a little, and Ill return every penny, dont worry.

Elizabeth felt awkward, as if doubting Marthas word, but the thought of losing their hard-earned savings for good unnerved her even more.

Im afraid we cant help, she said, but with less firmness. You understand, were saving for a home, and that has to come first.

Come on, Mum, lets go, Margaret said, irritated. See how these people are? Only care about themselves our troubles mean nothing to them.

Margaret flounced out, feigning wounded pride. Martha followed, reluctant to give up, and said to Charles by the door:

Well talk later. Dont you think your wife is ruling the roost now?

No sooner had the door closed than Charles rounded on Elizabeth.

How could you? What will Mum think of me now? That I wont help? That money means more than family?

Is this really an emergency? Elizabeth shot back. Has anyone ever helped us? I doubt your lot would give us a penny if we needed it for our own place! Ive heard quite enough about your ever-suffering sister.

Days later, Elizabeth and Charles made peace. Little did Elizabeth know, Charles was prepared to be deceitful. He took the money they’d been setting aside for their own home and brought it to his mother.

Martha, spotting her son clutching the coveted envelope, praised him at once:

Thats my boy! I knew Id raised you right! Dont fret you help Margaret now and shell help you later. And not a word to Elizabeth. Youre both young youll save again.

* * *

One day Elizabeth was browsing social media when she stumbled on new pictures of Margaret, beaming behind the wheel of a little car. Elizabeth was puzzled and turned to Charles:

Did you know Margarets bought a car? Did Edward come into some money, or is your sister just exceptionally lucky? Honestly, she always gets her way.

Yes, I knew about it, Charles said without meeting her eyes. We all chipped in and made it happen for her.

We all chipped in? Did you give her money as well? And why did you keep it from me?

Charles was silent, and in that moment Elizabeth understood everything. She rushed to the drawer where they kept their savings and, to her shock, found it empty.

What have you done? she cried. Is this some sort of joke? You gave our entire savings to your sister? I cant believe it, Charles. How could you?

This time, her usually placid husband erupted with anger and yelled:

Its none of your business! Im the head of this family and I make the decisions. Well have time enough to save again, but Margaret needs the car now. And if you cant respect my family, perhaps I don’t want a wife like you!

Oh really? I think its I who ought to reconsider, Charles. In fact, Ive already made up my mind youre no husband of mine! Im going to my mothers, and dont you dare forget to pay back my half of those savings!

Elizabeth began packing in a rush, hoping against hope for an apology or plea to stay. But Charles just sat quietly watching television, unmoved.

Thats it, then? Im really going, Charles, she said softly from the door.

Go. If you wont change, dont bother coming back, came his icy reply.

So Elizabeth moved in with her mother and filed for divorce the next month. It’s no easy business to live with someone who doesnt respect you. She didnt forget the hard-earned savings, either the threat of a legal wrangle soon made Charles surrender her share. Later, over tea with her friends, Elizabeth would chuckle at the tale: Sometimes you must break away when others become too brazen!

My Husband Humiliated Me in Front of Our Entire Family – I Suffered in Silence, Until the Day I Decided to Get My Revenge When I married John, I truly believed that love and respect would be the foundation of our marriage. But as the years passed, his attitude towards me changed. He no longer admired my cooking, stopped appreciating the warmth of our home, and began making sarcastic remarks at every opportunity. Family gatherings were the worst: he’d delight in making jokes at my expense, turning my little mistakes into loud, entertaining stories for everyone to laugh at – all at my cost. I endured it for years, smiling through the pain, convincing myself that this was just his way. But one day, on our 20th wedding anniversary, gathered around a festive table with our children, friends, and relatives, John outdid himself. He sarcastically remarked that I’d never be able to survive on my own without his “valuable” advice and support. Everyone laughed, and something inside me broke. Lying in bed that night, I made a decision: he would get exactly what he deserved. But my revenge wouldn’t be loud or messy. It had to be elegant and carefully planned. I invested more time in myself: signed up for painting classes, went back to the gym, and—most importantly—kept cooking John’s favourite meals, but now with a twist. The lasagna was suddenly far too salty, his morning coffee weak, his shirts never quite perfectly ironed. He complained, but I’d just smile and say, “Oh, sorry, darling. I must be too tired.” Then I showed him I could live just fine without him. I started going out more often—seeing friends, attending classes, taking walks in the park. John, who’d only ever seen me as a dutiful housewife, realised he was losing control. He grew furious as I grew more confident, radiant, and—most of all—distant. The highlight of my revenge was his birthday. I organised a lavish party, invited all his friends and colleagues, and booked a fancy restaurant. Everything was perfect. But instead of showering him with compliments in my speech, I shared playful, embarrassing tales of his own blunders, forgetfulness, and awkward moments. With a warm smile, I told the stories in good humour, but I saw his face flush red with anger and shame. His friends laughed, while John sat clenching his fists under the table. Afterwards, John was silent for days, reflecting on what had happened. I could see in his eyes he finally understood—he no longer had power over me. He tried to return things to the way they were, but I was changed. I was no longer afraid of his words or mockery; I had learned to respect and love myself. Soon, he stopped making jokes about me in front of our family, started helping around the house, and even admitted one day: “You’ve changed…I don’t even know how to react.” I just smiled and continued living my new, happy life. Sometimes, revenge isn’t about destruction—it’s about transformation. And in the end, it makes us stronger and teaches others to truly appreciate us. Vicky_December

This Is Not Up for Discussion “Nina is going to live with us, and that’s final,” Zak declared, setting his spoon aside. He hadn’t touched his dinner, clearly bracing himself for a serious conversation. “We’ve got a spare room, just finished redecorating, so in a couple of weeks my daughter will be moving in.” “Have you forgotten anything?” Ksusha asked, counting to ten under her breath. “Like, perhaps, that we prepared that room for our future child together? And have you overlooked the fact that Nina has a mother she should be living with?” “I remember we talked about having a baby,” Zak replied grimly, hoping his wife would quietly accept his words and there’d be no debate. “But plans can wait a few more years. You still need to finish university—now’s not the time for kids. And Nina doesn’t even want siblings. As for her mother…” Zak gave a crooked smile, “I’m applying to remove her parental rights. It’s unsafe for my girl to be under the same roof as that woman!” “Your girl?” Ksusha arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t she twelve years old? Hardly a baby. And what’s the danger? That her mother doesn’t let her hang about after ten at night, or dares to threaten to take her phone away if she skips homework? Honestly, your ex should be sainted for not resorting to the belt!” “You don’t know anything,” Zak said through gritted teeth. “Nina has shown me bruises, let me read messages full of threats and abuse! I won’t let her mother ruin her life!” “You mean, you’re doing it yourself by giving in to her every whim.” Ksusha quietly rose, leaving her soup almost untouched. She’d lost her appetite, and the sight of her irritated husband gave her a headache. People warned her—don’t rush into marriage! Live together a while, test your feelings… But she was too clever for advice. Had to beat her girlfriends down the aisle… Why had her friends opposed the hasty wedding? Simple—Zak was on his second marriage, fifteen years older, with a rather grown-up daughter he doted on. Three small issues on their own, but put together… almost a recipe for disaster. Frankly, the first two didn’t faze her—in fact, she liked that her husband was older and experienced. She knew first-hand that the divorce was mutual and Zak’s ex, Alla, bore no grudges. But the third reason… Nina. Spoilt and unruly, she’d spent most of her life with her gran while her parents worked hard for her future. Their divorce didn’t bother her—after all, she knew Dad would always be there, even if he remarried. But Mum’s new marriage… that was a problem. Her stepdad was strict and Mum, now home more often with a new job, backed up her husband completely. Early curfews, homework, tutors—Nina fell behind in most subjects… It all drove the girl mad. She began to concoct stories, winding her father up for sympathy. Yes, Nina wanted to live with her father, well aware that his work would leave her mostly to her own devices. Ksusha didn’t even figure in her plans; she had no intention of listening to a stepmother only nine years her senior. For the sake of “freedom,” she’d go to any lengths… ********************** “Nina’s arriving tonight. Get her room ready and please don’t upset her—she’s already been through a lot,” Zak informed his wife, picking out a tie for his new suit. “If I’d known Ala would turn on our daughter over a man… But what’s the point in talking now? There’s no turning back time.” “So you haven’t changed your mind? You really want her living with us?” Ksusha had hoped till the last minute that her husband would fail. “And who’s going to look after her? You don’t get home before eight, at best.” “You can,” Zak shrugged. “She’s not a baby. She’s very independent.” “I’ve got exams coming up, and you said yourself I need to focus on uni,” Ksusha retorted. “Nina will need to keep quiet and not distract me. Hopefully she knows how to wash dishes and mop floors, because for the next two weeks, that’s her new responsibility.” “She’s not a cleaner…” “Neither am I,” Ksusha cut in. “But if she lives with us, she can help around the house. It’s about time you discussed the house rules with your daughter.” ********************** “Dad, are you just going to let her boss me around? I can’t even go out with my friends—your wife’s given me all the chores while she sits in front of the telly.” Ksusha, overhearing, gave a crooked smile. Yeah, as if you could force that girl to lift a finger! Pigs might fly first. “I’ll talk to Ksusha, I promise. But you need to try and get along. Nina, I know it’s tough, but I physically can’t keep an eye on you. Try to find common ground with Ksusha, show her what a good girl you can be.” “Fine, I’ll try,” Nina sighed, realising Dad wouldn’t budge. “By the way, is it true you bought her a car?” “Well, yes. Why?” “Oh, nothing! It’s just you said you couldn’t afford to send me abroad for the holidays, and I’ve always dreamt of that!” “You couldn’t go alone anyway—you’re twelve, for heaven’s sake, and I work. We’ll go in the summer, all together.” “I don’t want the whole family! You don’t love me at all, do you?” Nina’s voice trembled with a sob. “Why did you even take me from Mum? Your wife can’t stand me, you’re always busy…” Ksusha tuned out. One way or another, Nina would get her way—and not just over a holiday. The clever girl aimed to oust another rival for Dad’s money. And, it seemed, she’d succeed. Ksusha was tired of her husband’s reproaches, and finally decided—one more row and she’d file for divorce. Before she left, she’d wipe the smile off Nina’s face by announcing that even after a divorce, Zak would still be expected to pay up—in child support. ********************** Ksusha was right—the evening kicked off with nothing but complaints. She calmly listened, then announced she was filing for divorce. “I want a peaceful life, not constant mud-slinging. And yes, I warned you—letting your daughter call the shots is a huge mistake,” Ksusha added, catching the victorious glint in Nina’s eyes and hurrying to bring her down a peg. “And don’t celebrate too soon. Who knows how long your happiness will last? I could give your father an ultimatum—if he wants to see our child,” she patted her belly, “he’ll have to send you back to your mother. Or something like that.” While Nina struggled for words and Zak tried to process, Ksusha grabbed her pre-packed suitcase and left. She wasn’t really pregnant, it was just a trick to make the spiteful girl sweat. And to teach a lesson to a man who clearly knew nothing about children…

Poor Innocent Lamb “Hello, Mum and Dad!” Dasha breezed into the house one weekend. “I’m getting married! Romka proposed, and I said yes right away.” “Goodness, Dasha, our little girl is all grown up!” Lidia exclaimed, glancing at her husband. Stepan sat there, looking solemn and silent, clearly digesting his daughter’s news. “Of course, Mum, what did you expect? I finished college, got a job in the city, and Romka’s working too. We just decided it was time to get married.” Dasha’s parents knew Romka, the city lad who lived with his mother, Maya, in a nearby town. He was polite, calm—an ideal son-in-law, as far as they were concerned. Lidia and Stepan took wedding plans into their own hands—after all, they had their farm in the countryside, and although Romas had saved a little, Stepan insisted, “You save those pennies for a flat, son. We’ll pay for the wedding, and maybe your mum will chip in too.” Romka’s mum, Maya, refused right away: “I haven’t got any money. Raised my son on my own, lived off just my wage. Maybe I can get a little present, that’s all.” Lidia didn’t judge her co-mother-in-law, but she felt uneasy about Maya from the start. The wedding was quiet and simple, celebrated at a modest café in the city. Soon after, Dasha and Romka bought a flat on a mortgage, with Dasha’s parents covering the down payment; Maya couldn’t help, claiming debts galore. Now settled in their own place, Dasha and Romka soon welcomed a baby girl, Masha. Lidia and Stepan sent gifts from every pension, brought milk and vegetables from the farm, and delivered hearty country produce to help their daughter’s new family. Sometimes, Lidia would call up Maya and suggest, “Let’s chip in together for a nice present for the granddaughter—kids need so much these days!” But Maya always had the same teary answer: “Oh, Lida, I have no money—just scraping by here on my own.” For Dasha’s birthday, her parents hauled carrots, meat, and potatoes from the village. Maya gave a measly ten pounds, but Lidia and Stepan added fifty to the pot. Lidia never begrudged anything, but couldn’t shake her resentment that Maya didn’t pull her weight. “Stepan, why are we always bending over backwards for our children, while your precious co-mother does nothing but cry and play helpless? Everyone’s struggling these days, but you have to work, not just moan! Look at her—she’s always well-dressed, manicured, neat as a pin. She claims she’s broke, but somehow finds money for all her beauty treatments.” Stepan surprised her: “Well, good for her, that she takes care of herself. That’s why she looks so good for her age.” The remark made Lidia furious. “Of course she has time! No farm work, no animals, no garden like we have. I’m running myself ragged while she sits pretty in town. Maybe I’ll start spending my days in beauty salons and leave you with the chores!” Stepan never argued, knowing his wife’s character after so many years. Life went on as usual: Lidia juggled the farm, Stepan worked as a driver, and Maya went on looking glamorous. When little Masha turned three and fell ill in nursery, it was agreed: Maya would babysit her granddaughter. “I’m retired anyway—why not?” Maya accepted. At last, Lidia felt some satisfaction. “Thank goodness, she’s doing something for the family.” But soon, Stepan started making more frequent trips to the town centre. “Lid, pack up some sour cream, eggs, potatoes. I’ll bring them to Dasha—need to pick up some bits for work, and I’ll check on Masha too.” Lidia packed the food gladly. “It’s so expensive in the city; at least we can help.” Stepan’s trips got longer and more frequent. At first Lidia thought nothing of it, but then suspicion grew. “Dear God, is my Stepan sweet on Maya? Something’s not right…” She decided to test him. Next time he was packing up for town, Lidia announced, “I’ll come with you, Stepan. Miss my granddaughter, and I need to do some shopping.” He looked rattled, but could only nod. On the drive, his mood soured. When they arrived, Maya answered the door in a loosely tied dressing gown, made up and smiling—until she saw both of them. Her smile vanished. “Oh—come in,” she mumbled, tightening her robe. They played with Masha, exchanged gifts, then when Masha drifted off, Maya offered tea and Lidia watched the glances flying between Stepan and Maya. “So that’s how it is,” thought Lidia. “Right in front of me—they aren’t even hiding it anymore.” When Stepan went out for a cigarette, Lidia seized her chance. “Listen, Maya—stop playing the poor, innocent lamb. I see what you’re doing with Stepan. If you want a husband, find your own. But leave mine alone! If you don’t stop, I’ll come babysit Masha myself and you’ll be out. Stop the flirting—have some shame!” Maya flushed bright red; she’d never guessed the “simple” country wife would catch on so fast. As they left, Lidia added, “Don’t ever mistake me for a silly country bumpkin.” On the way home, Lidia told Stepan exactly how things would be: “You’re not going to the city alone anymore. If I have to, I’ll look after Masha myself. You’ll be left here with the livestock and vegetables. Don’t test me—I mean it.” That evening, Dasha called in uproar: “Mum, why did you upset Maya? She’s been a huge help with Masha, and now you’re jealous of Dad visiting! He’s just seeing his granddaughter.” Lidia seethed. “Dasha, you’re too young to understand, but think about how you’d feel if your husband spent hours at your friend’s flat behind your back. Maya’s old enough to know better. Stop befriending a woman who entertains another woman’s husband so brazenly. And remember, your father and I do everything for you—and most of that is thanks to me. If your mother-in-law won’t help with Masha, I’ll come myself.” “Oh Mum, I’m sorry—I only heard her side; she twisted it all, made out it was your fault.” “No surprise there—I told her straight. She thought I wouldn’t catch on? She nearly fainted at the table.” After that, Stepan kept Lidia in the loop about any trip to the city—often taking her along, unprompted. And together, they found time for themselves, for Masha, and even for Lidia’s own self-care. “A man’s less likely to stray if he’s busy and appreciates his wife,” Lidia mused. “And I deserve to look after myself too—why should Maya have all the fun?” Thank you for reading, subscribing, and your support. Wishing you all the best!

Why Did Fate Deal Her Such a Hand? As each year passed, Lucy grew more certain that she never wanted to live like her mother, Barbara—a woman worn down far beyond her years by her perpetually drunk husband, Simon. At seventeen, Lucy chose not to go off to college after finishing school, too afraid to leave her mother alone. She’d long ago have run away, but she couldn’t abandon her mum; their father’s anger was unpredictable, and someone needed to tend to bruises and fetch water after his rages. One evening, Simon stumbled home drunk once again, slumping at the kitchen table. When Barbara placed his soup in front of him, he hurled the bowl across the room, narrowly missing her, and muttered angrily about going fishing the next morning, ordering Lucy along. She hoped he would forget, but before dawn, he woke her, determined to head out to the river. As they left, Barbara pleaded with Simon, warning of an impending storm, and blocked Lucy’s way, terrified for her daughter’s safety. Simon shoved Barbara, knocking over a milk pail and dragging Lucy out into the swirling wind. As they rowed, the sky blackened, waves rose, and Lucy clung to the boat’s edge in fear. Suddenly, Simon lost his balance and tumbled overboard, unable to fight against the current. Lucy tried to help, but the boat capsized, and something struck her head. When she awoke, Lucy found herself in a damp, unfamiliar room, watched over by a bearded man who insisted she was his wife, Valerie, though she remembered nothing. Confused, weakened by injury and illness, she was forced to accept this stranger’s version of her life—and endure his cruelty and demands. Time dragged on in this isolated wooden house—days of chores and nights of dread—until, one cold November day, an old friend from her childhood village spotted her by the river. Startled, he exclaimed, “Lucy? Is that really you?”—and with his help, she escaped back to her mother, who had believed her lost forever. As Lucy slowly recovered her memories, she confided in her family, terrified of her captor’s return. Thanks to the support of a kindly neighbour, Barbara and Lucy fled to a quiet village, where a simple house offered fresh hope. Though the memories would haunt her, especially with her little son Nicholas as a reminder, Lucy found love and the promise of happiness with Gregory, a neighbour who was already dreaming of proposing to her. Why did fate deal her such a cruel card? And yet, against all odds, Lucy found her way back to warmth, safety, and the hope she never thought she’d have.