Antonia Peterson Walked Through the Rain with Tears Streaming Down Her Face, Grateful That No One Could See Her Crying—After All, It Was Her Own Fault for Arriving Uninvited. She Walked and Wept, Then Laughed, Remembering a Joke Where the Son-in-Law Asks His Mother-in-Law If She Won’t Even Stay for Tea. Now, Standing in Her Daughter-in-Law’s Hallway, She Found Herself in That Very Position—Crying and Laughing All at Once. At Home, She Shed Her Wet Clothes, Crawled Under a Blanket, and Sobbed Unrestrained, With Only Her Goldfish in the Round Aquarium to Hear Her Sorrows. Antonia, Once Popular and Attractive, Had Endured Abuse from Nikita’s Father, Who Became Possessively Jealous, Even of Strangers and Neighbors. After a violent beating witnessed by their son, Antonia’s father intervened, ejecting her husband and warning him never to return. Raising Nikita alone, Antonia chose never to remarry and devoted herself to her child, her successful career as a catering technologist, and saving for her son’s future—a flat and even a car for his family. Today, caught in a torrential downpour, she impulsively visited her son’s home to wait out the rain with a cup of tea and some friendly gossip, but her daughter-in-law Anastasia coldly refused her entry. Humiliated and soaked, Antonia wept again until she drifted to sleep and dreamed of her goldfish growing large and speaking: “Crying again? Foolish woman! They never even offered you tea. You spend your life saving for them, but they don’t appreciate it. Take that money and live a little—go to the seaside!” Inspired, Antonia woke, finally understood, and booked herself a seaside holiday with her savings. She returned transformed—sun-kissed and radiant—and found new happiness with the charming restaurant manager. And when Anastasia later tried to ask for help yet again, Antonia, arms crossed, politely declined tea—and for once, served herself first, winking at her goldfish in triumph.

Author Wanda MirandaReading 6 minViews 1

Antonia Peterson walked through the rain, sobbing quietly. Tears streamed down her cheeks, blending with the cold drops.
“At least its raining,” she thought bitterly. “Nobody can see Im crying.”
Her mind whirled. “I brought this on myselfshowing up unannounced, at the wrong time. An unwelcome visitor.”
She wept. Then, suddenly, she laughed, thinking of that old joke: the son-in-law saying, “So, Mum, wont you even have a cup of tea?”
And now, she found herself in that very positionthe unwelcome Mum.
She was crying, then laughing, then back to tears again.
When she arrived home, she peeled off her soggy clothes, wrapped herself in a thick tartan blanket, and sobbed openly. There was no one, absolutely no one, to hear her but her goldfish gliding in circles in its bowl.
Antonia Peterson was attractive and had always drawn the eye of men. But things hadnt worked out with the father of her son, Nicholas. His drinking had started out manageablehed drink, then go to sleep. But soon, he became possessive and irrationally jealousof strangers who asked the time, the butcher at the shop, the old man with a stick, even the neighbour next door.
One day when Antonia smiled politely at that neighbour, her husband lost his mind.
He beat her. Methodically, brutally. He aimed blows where she would hurt most, all in front of young Nicholas.
Nicholas later described everything vividly to his grandparents. Antonias mother had broken down in tears.
“Is this what I raised my daughter forto be battered by some drunken brute?”
Her father hadnt said a word, just got up and left. He grabbed the son-in-lawwho was soon just an exand flung him down the block of flats from the fourth floor. The man broke his arm in the fall.
Her father shook his fist and warned him: “If I so much as see you near my daughter again, Ill finish you. Id go to jail, but you wont ruin my Tonis life.”
Her husband vanished forever after that. Antonia never remarried. She had her son to raise, after allwho knew what another husband might be like?
Plenty of men attempted to woo her, but she couldnt. Shed had enough after Nicholas father.
Antonia never struggled financially. She had a good job as a catering manager at a cosy little restaurant. She made ends meet easily.
She saved up gradually for a flat. When she finally had the money together, Nicholas was ready to get married. His fiancéeAnna, with a lovely surnamewas a wonderful girl.
So Antonia moved out of her little old flat, gave the young couple a brand new two-bedroom place, and paid for their wedding, too.
Now, she was saving up for a car for themhow much longer could they drive that battered old Ford, after all?
She had no habit of forcing herself upon her children. She wouldnt have dropped in today, but she happened to be passing by their place just as the heavens opened. She hadnt even brought an umbrella, not that it would have helped in that torrential downpour.
She thought shed pop in for shelter, perhaps share a cup of tea and some friendly gossip with Anna.
But when Anna answered the door, her face was cold and surprised. She didnt offer to let Antonia in; she just stood in the hallway, arms folded, and said crisply, “Did you want something, Mrs Peterson?”
Antonia was flustered, stumbling for her words:
“Just well, the rain”
“The rains stopped! Youre not far, youll get home fine,” Anna said, glancing at the window and cutting the conversation short.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Antonia muttered, meekly, and slunk back into the rain with tear-stained cheeks.
She cried and cried. Later, she fell into a restless sleep.
In her dream, her goldfish grew huge and started mouthing words silently, yet Antonia understood perfectly.
“Crying, are you? Silly woman! They couldnt even offer you tea when you were soaked in the rain. And who are you saving money fora car for them? Will you spend your whole life sacrificing for them? Just for them! Look at yourselfyoure clever and beautiful! Youve got money! So what if its for their carthey dont appreciate it. Go to the seaside. Live for yourself, just once.”
Antonia jerked awake in the darkness.
Her fish was swimming, still opening its mouth, but shed lost the ability to understand its language.
But she understood the most important truth: she didn’t need to sacrifice herself for ungrateful peoplefor those who wouldnt even make her tea, who wouldnt shelter her from the rain.
She took the money shed saved for their car and booked herself a trip to the coast.
She went, relaxed, and came back transformedradiant and sun-kissed.
Her son and daughter-in-law never noticed. They only called when they needed somethingmoney or help with the baby.
But Antonia started meeting men again, and soon struck up a relationship with a very charming manthe director of her restaurant. Hed liked her for ages, but shed been too preoccupied with Nicholas and Anna. Now things just clicked. They went to work together, came home together; life felt completely new.
One day, Anna popped in, all smiles.
“So, Mrs Peterson, why havent you dropped by or called? Nicholas found a car he likes” she hinted.
“Anna, was there something you wanted?” Antonia replied, folding her arms as Anna had done before.
Anna opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted as a distinguished gentleman called from the living room:
“Toni, shall we have some tea?”
“Of course,” Antonia beamed.
“Invite your guest,” the man said, smiling.
“No, Annas leaving. She doesnt need tea, do you, Anna?”
Antonia closed the door behind her daughter-in-law, winked at the goldfish, and burst out laughing.
“Thats how its done!”

Became the Housemaid When Alice decided to remarry, her son and daughter-in-law were shocked by the news and struggled with how to respond. — Are you sure you want such a drastic change at your age? — asked Kate, glancing at her husband. — Mum, why are you making such a rash decision? — fretted Russell. — You’ve spent most of your life raising me, but marrying now just seems foolish. — You’re young, that’s why you think this way, — replied Alice calmly. — I’m sixty-three, and no one knows how much time we have left. I have every right to spend my remaining years with someone I love. — Then don’t rush into signing the papers, — Russell tried to reason with his mother. — You hardly know this George, and you’re already preparing to change your life. — At our age, there’s no sense in waiting and wasting time, — Alice reasoned. — What more do I need to know? He’s two years older, lives with his daughter and her family in a three-bedroom, gets a good pension, and owns a garden allotment. — Where are you going to live? — Russell didn’t understand. — We’re living together, and there just isn’t room for another person here. — Don’t worry, George isn’t after our square footage, so I’ll move in with him, — Alice explained. — The flat is spacious, I’ve got on well with his daughter, everyone’s an adult, so there should be no reason for arguments or drama. Russell worried, Kate tried to help him see his mother’s side. — Maybe we’re just selfish? — she wondered. — Of course, it’s convenient having your mum help out and look after Kira, but she has every right to live her own life. Now that she has this chance, we shouldn’t stand in her way. — It would be fine if they just lived together, but why get married? — Russell didn’t get it. — The thought of a bride in white and cheesy games at the wedding is just too much. — They’re old-school, maybe marriage makes them feel more secure, — Kate tried to rationalize. And so Alice married George, whom she’d met by chance in the street, and soon moved into his apartment. At first, everything seemed fine—the family accepted her, her husband was kind, and Alice believed she’d finally earned happiness and could simply enjoy every day. But soon enough, the reality of living with her new family began to show. — Would you mind cooking a roast for dinner? — asked Ina. — I’d do it myself, but work’s been manic and I don’t have time, but you’ve got plenty of free hours. Alice picked up on the hint and took over not just cooking, but the shopping, cleaning, laundry, and even trips out to the allotment. — Now we’re married, the garden is our shared responsibility, — said George. — My daughter and her husband are too busy, the granddaughter’s still young, so we’ll have to take care of everything ourselves. Alice didn’t argue—she actually liked being a part of a big, supportive family built on helping each other. With her first husband, she’d never known such happiness—he was lazy and sly, and eventually ran off when Russell was ten. Twenty years had passed since and she never heard from him again. Now, everything felt right, so the chores weren’t a burden and any tiredness brought no resentment. — Mum, you’re not exactly up for garden work, are you? — Russell tried to have his say. — After every trip, your blood pressure must be shot—do you really need that? — Of course I do, I enjoy it, — Alice reasoned as a pensioner. — George and I will grow plenty of veg to share around—there’ll be enough for everyone. But Russell wasn’t convinced. For months, they hadn’t even been invited round for a cup of tea to meet the family. Russell and Kate had invited George to their home, but he always found excuses—a lack of time or energy—and eventually, they stopped asking, accepting the fact that this new extended family wasn’t interested in building ties. The only thing Russell and Kate wanted was for Alice to be happy and well. At first, she was, so the chores and errands seemed joyful. Only their number kept growing, and it became a bit much. On arrival at the allotment, George would complain of a bad back or of chest pain. His considerate wife would tuck him up to rest while she hauled branches, raked leaves, and emptied the rubbish. — Soup again? — George’s son-in-law, Anthony, grimaced. — We had it yesterday too; I thought you’d make something different today. — I didn’t have time to cook, or get to the shops, — Alice apologised. — I spent all day washing curtains and rehanging them; I was so worn out I had to have a lie down. — I get it, but I can’t stand soup, — Anthony pushed his plate aside. — Tomorrow Alice will make us a proper feast, — George pitched in straight away. And the next day, Alice spent all day in the kitchen, and everything was eaten in half an hour. Then, she cleaned up, and so it went on. Soon, the daughter and son-in-law found fault with every little thing, and George would take their side, painting his wife as the one to blame. — But I’m not a girl anymore, I get tired, and I don’t see why I should do everything on my own! — Alice protested after another round of complaints. — You’re my wife, so it’s your job to keep this house in order, — George reminded her. — As your wife, I should have rights, not just obligations, — Alice cried. Later, she calmed down and returned to her usual cheery self, trying to please everyone and keep the mood up at home. But one day, she snapped. That day, Ina and her husband were off to visit friends, and planned to leave their daughter with Alice. — Let the little one stay with her grandad or go out with you, because I’m visiting my own granddaughter today, — Alice said. — Why should we fit around you?! — snapped Ina. — You don’t have to, but I don’t owe you, either, — Alice reminded her. — My granddaughter’s birthday is today; I told you on Tuesday. Not only was this ignored, but you now want to keep me at home as well. — This isn’t right, honestly, — George blushed with irritation. — Ina’s plans will fall apart, and your granddaughter is so young, nothing will happen if you wish her happy birthday tomorrow. — Nothing will happen if the three of us visit my family now, or if you stay with your granddaughter while I’m out, — Alice stood her ground. — I knew marrying you would come to no good, — Ina said with spite. — She’s mediocre at cooking, slack with cleaning, and only ever thinks of herself. — After all I’ve done here these past months, you really think that? — Alice asked George. — Be honest, did you want a wife or just live-in help for every whim? — You’re being unfair, and trying to put me in the wrong, — George stuttered. — Don’t start a row out of nowhere. — I asked a simple question and I’m entitled to an answer, — Alice insisted. — If that’s how you’re going to talk, do as you please, but in my house, that attitude towards your duties just won’t do, — George pronounced proudly. — In that case, I quit, — said Alice, and went to pack her things. — Will you take your hopeless old gran back? — she lugged her bag and her granddaughter’s present. — Gave marriage a go, came back home, don’t ask me about it for now, just tell me: will you have me or not? — Of course, — her son and daughter-in-law rushed to greet her. — Your room’s ready and we’re happy you’re back. — You’re happy just like that? — she tried to hear those cherished words. — Why else do people rejoice when family comes home? — Kate wondered. At that moment, Alice was sure she was not the maid. She helped about the house and looked after her granddaughter, but her son and daughter-in-law had never taken advantage or treated her as a servant. Here, she was truly just a mum, a grandmother, a mother-in-law, and a beloved member of the family—not the help. Alice moved home for good, filed for divorce herself, and tried her best to put the whole experience behind her.

The Homeless Stranger Nina had nowhere left to turn. With no roof over her head, she spent a few nights at the train station, unsure of her next move. Suddenly, she remembered her family’s old country cottage—more a dilapidated hut than a home, but surely better than the station benches. Boarding the commuter train, Nina pressed her face to the chilly window as waves of painful memories washed over her. Two years before, she had lost her parents, forced to leave university and take a job on the local market. Life’s luck seemed to turn when she met Tim, a kind, decent man. Within a few months, they wed in a modest ceremony. Yet happiness was short-lived. Tim convinced her to sell her inherited London flat to start a business—but the dream quickly collapsed. Their marriage spiraled, and one day Tim brought home another woman, asking Nina to leave. Homeless again, Nina almost went to the police—but realized she’d handed over her flat willingly. Now, standing alone on a deserted platform in early spring, she made her way through the overgrown plot to the cottage. The front door refused to budge, and defeated, Nina sat on the porch and wept. Suddenly, from next door came smoke and the clatter of pans. Hoping to find familiar faces, she called out—only to find an unkempt elderly man by the fire. “Don’t call the police,” he said gently. “I don’t trouble anyone; I just camp here outdoors.” Despite his appearance, his cultured baritone gave him away as a learned man. “Are you homeless?” Nina asked. He nodded, introducing himself as Michael. With her own struggles, Nina found comfort in company. As Michael helped her with the door, the two realised they had more in common than homelessness. Sharing a simple meal, Michael told how he’d been tricked out of his London flat by a scheming niece, left with nothing. In time, the unlikely pair formed their own improvised family—Nina returning to her studies with Michael’s help and Michael finding kinship and a home again. Two years later, over tea and cake in the cottage warmed by laughter, Nina and Michael looked out at the grapevine he’d just planted, grateful for a new beginning—and for the unexpected family they’d both been searching for.