Emily Taylor

– “We’ll Stay at Yours for a While Since We Can’t Afford to Rent Our Own Place!” – My Friend Told Me. I’m an Active Woman of 65, Still Visiting New Places and Meeting Fascinating People, Fondly Remembering the Days When You Could Spend Your Holidays Wherever You Liked—Camping by the Seaside, Sailing Down Any River, or Heading Off with Friends, All on a Small Budget. Those Days Are Gone, but My Love for Meeting New People Remains. Years Ago on Holiday, I Befriended a Woman Named Sarah; Years Later, I Received an Anonymous Telegram: “My Train Arrives at Three in the Morning—Wait for Me at the Station!” Confused, We Stayed Home, But by Four, Sarah Arrived on Our Doorstep with Her Two Teenage Daughters, Gran, and a Man—All Their Possessions in Tow! They Expected to Live with Us Because We Lived Near Town and They Had No Money for Rent. Shocked but Polite, We Let Them In. After Three Days of Cooking, Cleaning, and Serving Guests Who Brought Food but Never Cooked, I Asked Them to Leave—Leading to a Dramatic Scene and Broken Dishes. When They Left, My Robe, Towels, and Even a Large Cabbage Pot Had Disappeared! That Was the End of Our Friendship—Thank Goodness! I’ve Never Seen Sarah Since, and I’m Much More Careful About Whom I Welcome Into My Home.

Well need to stay with you for a while, as we cant afford to rent a place of our own! my friend blurted

La vida

My Ex-Husband’s Son from His Second Marriage Was Diagnosed with Cancer and My Ex Asked Me for Money—But I Said No!

The son of my ex-husband and his second wife fell ill, and my ex asked me for financial help.

La vida

My Children Are Well Provided For, I’ve Got a Bit Saved, and Soon I’ll Be Drawing My Pension A Few Months Ago, We Laid My Neighbour Fred to Rest—We’d Been Friends and Family for Over a Decade. Fred Was the Town’s Most Trusted Mechanic, a True Master Who Built a Good Life for His Five Children, Buying Them All Homes Through Hard Work. After His Youngest Daughter’s Wedding This Spring, Fred—Just 59—Slowed Down, Took Leave from Work, and Quietly Asked His Boss for Retirement, Feeling Worn Out Like an Old Engine on Its Third Overhaul. His Wife, Sue, Grew Worried at His Sudden Change, Rallying Their Children for Advice. When the Family Gathered, Each Child Brought Their Own Troubles and Hopes—Renovations Needed, Cars to Buy, Jobs to Juggle—But None Considered How Hard Their Father Had Worked for Them, and No One Offered Help for His Retirement. Saddened, Fred Returned to Work for Three More Days, Until His Worn Heart Could Take No More. Now, Sue Lives Alone, Pinching Pennies As Her Children Carry On with Busy Lives, Her Husband’s Quiet Plea for Rest and Security Echoing After His Passing.

My children have all been well looked after, Ive got a bit put by, and I shall soon be drawing my pension.

La vida

011

Step by Step, We Brought Running Water and Gas to My Aunt’s Old House, Made Every Modern Improvement, Then One Day I Found Her Home Listed for Sale Online

Bit by bit, we managed to get running water into her house, and eventually we had the gas connected too.

La vida

010

“I Had to Get My Own Fridge So Mum Would Stop Taking My Shopping” – Anna’s Story of Absurd Family Struggles, Inherited Property, and the Battle Over Money

Honestly, you wont believe what Kate had to do at home. She had to buy a separate fridge just to keep

La vida

013

You’re the Older Brother, So You Must Help Your Little Sister — You Have Two Flats, Give One to Her! Not long ago, we celebrated my sister-in-law’s birthday. Alina has never been warm towards me, and the feeling has been mutual. All our relatives gathered for the occasion: grandparents, nieces, and the birthday girl herself. Every single one congratulated my husband on his sister’s birthday and expressed admiration for his supposed generosity. We accepted the congratulations with my husband, but couldn’t make sense of it. We held an envelope with a £100 gift, which seemed fine, if not exactly generous. The real surprise came when my mother-in-law started congratulating the birthday girl. “Mark, your sister’s birthday is today. She’s still single and without support, so as her older brother, you must look after her and ensure her safety. You’re the owner of two flats now, so you should give one to Alina.” Everyone started clapping, and I nearly fell off my chair in disbelief at the audacity. But that wasn’t the end. “Big brother, you’ll give me the one in the new building, right? When can I move in?” Alina chimed in. My husband and I do have two properties – one I inherited from my grandmother, which we fixed up and currently rent out. The rent goes towards our mortgage on the new flat, where we actually live. My husband has no claim to my inherited flat, which I’ve always planned to leave to our child – certainly not my sister-in-law. “Forget it – the flat we’re renting is mine, and the one you’re dreaming of is our home,” I said. “My dear, you’re mistaken,” my mother-in-law replied, “because you’re my son’s wife, and everything you have is shared property under his management.” “I’ve no objection to you helping your sister, but don’t touch my property,” I added. “Mark, do you have something to say?” “My love, you and I will earn more and buy another flat – let’s gift one to Alina, it is her birthday after all,” Mark insisted. “Are you serious?” I asked. “If it ever comes to that, you can give your sister a share of our flat – but only after we file for divorce!” “How dare you speak to your husband like that? If you want a divorce, you’ll have one!” his mother scoffed. “Son, you should pack and come home – you, my dear, are simply nasty and greedy!” After those words, I left that mad house, unwilling to stay amongst people who think they can dispose of my property as they please.

Youre the big brother, so youve got to help your little sister out. You own two flats give her one!

La vida

My Frugal Friends Invited Me to Their Birthday Party—But I Came Home Hungry

My thrifty friends invited me to a birthday bash. I came home starving. I have some friends I affectionately

La vida

016

I Don’t Understand Why I Became His Wife: Newly Married, I Believed My Husband Loved Me Madly—Until a Strange Incident Shook Our Relationship and Revealed the Shocking Truth Hidden in a Letter

Honestly, I still dont understand why I ended up marrying him. So, weve only just tied the knot.

La vida

012

After Telling My Wife That Her Daughter Is Not My Responsibility, the Truth About Our Family Finally Came Out

So mate, something happened recently that really turned my world upside down. You know how I’

La vida

You Just Don’t Know How Lucky You Are — Half a million? — Karina read the notification on her phone three times before the numbers made sense. — You took out a loan for half a million pounds? Dimitri sat on the sofa, glued to his smartphone, not even glancing up. — Oh, that… Yes, just a small thing, for Mum’s house renovations. You know, her pipes are leaking, the flooring’s ruined, the wallpaper’s going mildewy… — Hold on. — Karina sank into the nearest armchair, her legs too weak to stand. — You took out a loan. For half a million. And gave it all to your mother? Without saying a word to me? Dimitri finally looked up, baffled, as if his wife was asking about something perfectly normal. — Karina, it’s my mum. She lives alone, her pension’s tiny. Who else would help her? — What about discussing it with me? — Karina was shouting now, unable to stop. — Asking my opinion? At least warning me? — You’d have started arguing, — Dimitri shrugged. — And Mum needed the money urgently. Four years. Four years she’d put up with that woman who called every evening to check what Dima had eaten for dinner. Who turned up without warning and commented on the state of the flat. Who always sat Karina at the far end of the table during family meals. — Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, — Dimitri said in his usual calm tone. — We’ll manage. We can pay it off quickly, it’s no big deal. It’s family. Hot, angry tears burst forth. Karina wiped them away, smearing mascara across her cheeks. — Family? Am I “family”? Or just an accessory? Remember when your mum decided it was time we switched cars and you sold ours without asking? When she threw my things out of the spare room because she “couldn’t sleep surrounded by someone else’s junk”? When on my birthday, you and she went fridge shopping for her? — All details, — Dimitri waved off. — You’re just tired, you need a break. Karina looked at the man she married—tall, soft-featured, those dimples she once found charming. Now, all she saw was a thirty-something child, unable to cut the apron strings. — We’ll get through it, — he repeated like a mantra. — Love conquers all. Karina stood up and walked to the bedroom. Two large duffle bags sat on the top shelf—the ones she’d brought when she first moved in. She hauled them down, opened the wardrobe and started packing. Twenty minutes later, Dimitri appeared, just as the first bag was stuffed full. — What are you doing? Karina, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not serious, are you? She didn’t answer. Folded jumpers, jeans, underwear. Reached for her jewellery box—gifts from parents and friends, nothing from him. — Where will you go? Back to your mum? She’s in Manchester! She zipped the second bag. Checked her handbag—passport, card, keys to her mum’s flat, kept just in case. — Karina, say something! You can’t just leave. I love you! She gave him a long look. Then picked up her bags and walked out. …Next morning, Karina stood at the register office holding the divorce application, feeling a strange calm inside, despite the grey drizzle outside. The decision was made. The first call came at 2.30am. Karina, startled on Lena’s sofa, confused about where she was. — We need to talk, — Dimitri was ragged, incoherent. — I understand now, I’ll change. Give me another chance. She hung up. Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. — Karina, I can’t live without you. You are my reason to go on. By morning, forty-three messages had arrived—tearful confessions, promises, threats. “If you don’t come back, I don’t know what I’ll do.” “Mum says you’re just being difficult.” “I’ll wait for you forever.” A week later, he began showing up at her work. Karina went for lunch and found him by the sandwich shop. Headed for the Tube, spotted him across the street. — Just passing by, — he’d smile when she demanded an explanation. — Wanted to see you. One evening, the doorbell rang at Lena’s flat. Expecting the pizza delivery, Karina opened the door. Dimitri stood there—bouquet of red roses. — Just one chance, — he whispered. — That’s all I’m asking. Karina shut the door. He stood outside for two hours before neighbours threatened to call the police. Eventually, she learned to live with it—as one does with chronic pain. Ignoring messages, screening calls from unknown numbers, not looking over her shoulder. She switched jobs for remote work, moved to a sleepy suburb where Dimitri was unlikely to show up. The divorce was finalised three months later. Karina walked out of court, paper in hand, tears streaming—not of grief, but relief. At first, freedom was terrifyingly empty. She’d always checked her choices with someone, even if that someone always decided anyway. Now, she could buy any yoghurt in the shop, without worrying if Elena Victoria approved. Watch any film she liked, without being told “proper women don’t watch that”. She could breathe. She signed up for English lessons—a long-held dream, which Dimitri dismissed as “a waste of money”. Started attending sunrise yoga. Took a solo weekend trip to Cornwall, wandering the streets and eating clotted cream fudge. After six months, the calls and messages stopped. Karina waited another month, then realised she could finally relax. Landed a job at a marketing agency—bright office, young team, exciting projects. Life was looking up. …She met Andrew at a work do her colleague, Mary, convinced her to attend. — This is our lead programmer, — Mary introduced her to a tall man in wire-rimmed glasses. — Andrew, meet Karina from marketing. He shook her hand—firm but gentle. Smiled, simple and sincere. — You ducked out of karaoke too? — he nodded at the stage, where finance was butchering “Wonderwall”. — Got to preserve my nerves, — Karina grinned. They talked all evening—books, travel, life’s quirks. Andrew listened more than he spoke. He asked questions and waited for the answers—never lectured or explained how she should live. When he discovered she was divorced, he simply nodded and changed the subject. …Six months later, they moved in together, picking a cosy, light-filled flat in a quiet London square. — Are you sure you like this one? — Karina checked, viewing the place. — Do you? — Andrew replied. — I love it. — Then it’s settled. Those small things—the right to her own opinion, respected—mattered far more than grand declarations of love. He proposed on the building’s rooftop at sunset, the sky awash in gold and pink. Produced a tiny box—inside, a diamond ring. — I’m rubbish at speeches, — Andrew admitted. — But I want to wake up next to you every day. If you’re willing to put up with my snoring and my love of bad coffee. Karina laughed through tears and nodded… …One May evening, as usual, Andrew stayed late at work—deadline panic, a final bug in the code. Karina was making pasta, humming with the radio, when the doorbell rang. Sharp, insistent, demanding. She looked through the peephole—and recoiled. Dimitri stood on the landing. Pale, hollow-eyed, rumpled shirt. Two years. Two years of silence—and now, he was here. — Karina, open up! — his fist pounding the door. — I know you’re in there! We need to talk! Karina grabbed her phone and dialled Andrew. Engaged. — We still love each other! — Dimitri shouted from outside. — You can’t be with someone else! It’s wrong! The door shook—he threw his whole weight against it, trying to break in. Karina pressed her back to the door, bracing hard. — Go away! — she screamed. — I’ll call the police! — You’re my wife! — his voice cracked. — You were mine, you’ll stay mine! Two years I waited for you to come to your senses! Two years! — We’re divorced! It’s over! — It’s not over! — he shoved the door again. — I’ve changed! Mum says you don’t appreciate your own happiness! Open up, let’s talk! Through the peephole, his face twisted—obsessed, unrecognisable. Karina dialled three digits. — Dima! One call; the police will be here. Leave. Now. Dimitri froze. Silent. Then turned and stormed off down the stairs. The main door slammed below. Karina slid to the floor, her heart pounding. Thirty minutes passed before she could ring Andrew. She filed a police report the next day. The local officer—a kindly, mustached man—took down details, listened, nodded. — We’ll handle it. He’ll get a warning. What he said to Dimitri, Karina never knew. But her ex-husband never showed up again. No calls. No texts. No “chance” encounters. The wedding took place in early June, at a small country pub—twenty friends, just those closest to them. No fuss, no groom’s side relatives laying down “traditions”. Karina stood opposite Andrew in a simple white dress, holding his warm hands. Outside, the birch trees rustled, carrying scents of flowers and fresh-cut grass. — Do you…? — the registrar began. — I do, — Karina interrupted, and everyone laughed. Andrew slipped the ring on—a thin gold band, engraved inside. Three words: “Forever with you”. Karina lifted her gaze to this man who would be her husband. Not a mummy’s boy, not a possessive stalker. Just a man who listened, respected, and loved. Ahead lay a life where her voice finally mattered…

“Half a million?” Catherine stared at the notification on her phone, blinking three times