The Secret
In a small English village, more a rural hamlet than a true town, lived a girl named Lily. One day her mother, a firm believer in the mystical, took her to visit the local fortune teller.
The old mystic laid out the cards and declared:
“Lily will have a happy life. Everything will turn out well for her. But I don’t see a man by her side.”
Lily was only about ten at the time. The words of the mysterious old woman were seared into her memory, though she barely understood them.
Years passed. Lily grew into a tall, beautiful woman who drove all the village lads wild. But she never settled on any of them, dating one and then another but never making a decision.
Despite doing well at school, she didn’t leave for university. Instead, she stayed and took a job at the local dairy. Rumour had it she was seeing one of the managers, but no one ever saw them together.
The older women at the factory would warn the newcomer:
“Careful, Lily, don’t get stuck here or you’ll find life’s passed you by. Head to the city—you’ve got everything going for you there.”
Lily just smiled, never replying.
Suddenly, news swept through the village: Lily was pregnant!
Speculation exploded about who could have “blessed” the village beauty, but no one could figure out who the father was.
Her mother didn’t hesitate:
“So you’ve done it? Shamed the family! You’re on your own now. Don’t expect my help. You made your bed, now lie in it. And find somewhere else to live, you’re not staying here—I’ll give you a month.”
“All right, Mum,” Lily replied calmly, “I’ll go. But don’t expect me to come back.”
Two weeks later, Lily bought a small cottage, complete with all the household bits. She was lucky, said the neighbors—the previous owner’s children had taken her to the city and sold the house for next to nothing. Where Lilly, pregnant as she was, got even those few pounds was a mystery.
Then the miracles began. The cottage was swiftly done up, fitted with a modern touch and a new fence, and a fresh water well appeared in the yard. People would turn up, do the work quickly, and then vanish.
Soon after, Lily received deliveries of boxes filled with appliances and new furniture. She walked around the village smiling, looking every bit as content and carefree as anyone could imagine—nothing like an abandoned, single mother.
That autumn, Lily’s son, Anthony, was born, and a brand new sky-blue pram appeared before her tidy little house. She bounced back from childbirth quickly, looking even more striking than before. Always poised and well-dressed, she walked through the village with her head held high, looking endlessly content.
At home, she worked tirelessly: the newborn, the garden, the wood stove, shopping, laundry—but she never once complained. Raised to value hard work, she simply got on with things. Neighbors, recognizing her spirit and kindness, became friends, even helping with Anthony when she needed to nip out. They’d lend a hand in the garden—sending a husband round to dig beds, or helping with weeding—but Lily managed most things on her own.
When Anthony was about two, one neighbor rushed to another wide-eyed:
“Did you see?”
“What?”
“Lily’s pregnant again!”
“Nonsense, you’re imagining it!”
“No, really—come and see!”
Once again, gossip about Lily spread through the village: who could be the father this time? But no one had seen her with any man.
Lily ignored the whispers, quietly carrying on with her life. Soon a little bathhouse appeared on her land, gas fitters rerouted their route to install gas for her, and a modern greenhouse sprang up in her garden.
“So where does a single woman get that kind of money?” villagers wondered, “She must have a secret admirer—someone important. But Lily’s secret remained unsolved.”
The same sky-blue pram reappeared in her yard and Anthony had a new little brother, Sam. Two years later, another brother—Michael.
Lily had three sons, and no one in the village knew who their father was.
Some openly mocked her, some admired her courage when they saw her healthy, well-cared-for children and tireless work ethic. Others wagged their fingers and used her as a cautionary tale for their own daughters.
Lily’s mother couldn’t understand her, was ashamed, never tried to help or get to know her grandchildren.
Lily simply held her head high and ignored it all.
Time passed—until the day a fancy car pulled up outside Lily’s house. Out stepped the owner of the dairy factory—a widely respected figure—bearing a huge bouquet. He went in, and as townsfolk gathered outside, Lily eventually stepped out with him, only for the man to embrace and kiss her in front of everyone before announcing loudly:
“Lily has agreed to be my wife. We, and our sons, invite you all to our wedding!”
A stunned silence. Only then did the villagers realise who Lily’s boys reminded them of…
At last, congratulations rained down from every direction.
After a grand wedding, the dairy owner moved Lily and her sons into his home, with the whole village helping to pack up her things.
A year later, the family welcomed a long-awaited baby girl…
So much for fortune tellers! The Secret In a small English village that fancied itself a town, lived a girl named Abigail.
My husbands mistress was stunning. If I were a bloke, Id have chosen her myself. You know the sort of
Ive retired now, and this enormous feeling of loneliness has crept into my lifea sort of loneliness I
FOREBODING In the languid hours of the night, Emily stirred in her bed, the shifting shadows on the ceiling
Ive retired now, and this enormous feeling of loneliness has crept into my lifea sort of loneliness I
Betrayal by Ones Own Children Sarah sat once again in awe, watching her brother and sister.
I took my sister-in-law and her young son with us on holiday. I must have regretted it a thousand times.
A Chaotic Closet, Piles of Unironed Clothes, and Sour Soup in the Fridge—This Is Our Home. When I Tried to Gently Talk with My Wife About It, I Ended Up Accused Instead
I Fell in Love with Mary at First Sight—Completely Smitten by Her Beauty and Charm, I Thought I Was the Luckiest Man Alive. She Was Smart, Attractive, and Immaculately Clean, So I Proposed Without Hesitation.
When We Moved In Together, Mary Made It Clear She Didn’t Like Housework, Preferring to Focus on Her Career and Split Chores Evenly. That Seemed Fair to Me, So I Agreed—Unaware of What the Future Held.
At First, We Managed, but Six Months Later Nothing Went as Planned. Mary’s Job Hopes Didn’t Pan Out—She Was Stuck in a Part-Time, Unstable Position, Spending Her Earnings on Herself While I Worked Relentlessly All Day. Still, Mary Strictly Remembered the ‘Equal’ Division of Labour, Sometimes Ignoring Her Share.
Her Enthusiasm Faded, and Soon the House Was Overrun with Clutter and Unironed Laundry. To My Shock, She Blamed Me, Saying I Should Do More to Help, Even Though We’d Agreed on Fairly Sharing Everything. I Struggled to Juggle Work and Keeping the House Together, Hurt That the Responsibility Had Fallen on Me.
I Hoped Things Would Improve After Our Baby’s Birth, Thinking Mary Would Take Care of the Home While on Maternity Leave—But It Only Got Worse. Sometimes I Wonder If I’d Be Better Off Without My Wife, Especially with Arguments Becoming Daily Life.
I Try to Empathise with Her Point of View, But I Can’t Shake the Feeling That My Own Needs Are Ignored. I Work Hard at the Office and at Home, Longing for a Moment’s Rest.
Now I’m Left Questioning What Mary Does All Day During Maternity Leave—Why Can’t She Make Dinner or Tidy Up When Our Two-Month-Old Sleeps Most of the Time? Sometimes I Think I Could Handle the Housework If Our Roles Were Reversed. I Worry What Will Happen If We Have Another Child. I’m Committed to Equality and Mutual Support, but It Feels Like Mary Finds That Concept Difficult to Grasp.
I Love My Child and Don’t Want to Ruin Our Family, But I’m at My Wit’s End—How Can I Keep Going Like This? Whose Side Are You On? A chaotic wardrobe, heaps of un-ironed clothes, and a pot of sour soup forgotten in the fridgethis is our home.
Our Foolish Children Chose to Play at Being Independent and Ended Up in Debt and Losing Their Home
When our children got married, both sets of parents decided to help them with housing. My husband and I had some savings, as did my in-laws. We pooled our money together and it turned out to be enough for a small flat. We wanted to buy it for our children right away, but they said they were independent and would buy it themselves.
Some time later, we found out that yes, they had bought a flat—a three-bedroom one. And where did the money come from? They’d taken out a bank loan to buy the flat. Who would pay off the monthly payments? They assured us they could afford it.
Then we found out they wanted a car too. Their flat was far from work and public transport was inconvenient. They bought a brand new car on finance, straight from a showroom, though we’d suggested they get a used one. Again, they insisted they were independent and knew best.
Next, they wanted a child—preferably born abroad so they could secure citizenship there. Once again, they borrowed money so their daughter could give birth in good conditions, with a doctor always available.
She gave birth. Then they wanted to renovate the baby’s room, so took out another loan. When we asked, “Who will pay?”—”Ourselves, we are independent.”
And then misfortune struck—my son-in-law was laid off from work, and my daughter was on maternity leave. No more money. How would they pay off all those loans? They asked us to sell our countryside cottage. We didn’t want to, but had to do it so they wouldn’t default. Sadly, it wasn’t enough.
Then they had to sell the flat, and eventually the car too. They moved in with their in-laws. Now they complain they have nothing of their own. Of course—because they didn’t listen to us. The loans are still not paid off—it will take several more years. Nothing but sadness and tears. Foolish children, thinking they could dance alone along the foggy banks of independence, wandered off
During their divorce, a wealthy husband chose to leave his wife with a derelict farm, abandoned and lost
