Emily Taylor

Stay Away from Me! I Never Promised to Marry You! Frankly, I Don’t Even Know Whose Child This Is—Maybe Not Even Mine at All? “Go on your way, I’m off,” said Victor, who was only in our village for work, leaving stunned Valentina in disbelief. Was this really the Victor who’d once proclaimed his love and promised her the moon? Now, years later, after heartbreak and raising her daughter Maria mostly alone, Valentina faces the gossip of their small English town when she invites a mysterious new man, Ian, into her home. Despite the neighbours’ suspicions, Ian’s kindness and practical skills slowly transform their lives—and he becomes the loving father Maria never had. This is the moving story of how true parenthood isn’t defined by blood, but by love, care, and shared moments—sometimes the greatest dads are found in the most unexpected places.

Keep away from me! I never promised to marry you! In fact, I dont even know whose child this is!

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“No, Mum, You Really Shouldn’t Come Right Now — It’s a Long Journey and You’re Not Young Anymore”: My Grown Son Married and Moved to London, Promising to Visit Over Easter, But Didn’t Even Invite Me to the Wedding – Now I Don’t Know If I Should Give Him the £1,500 I Saved for His Big Day

No, theres really no need for you to come now. Just think about it, Mum. Its a long journey, an entire

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— You Never Truly Loved Me. You Married Me Without Love, and Now You’ll Leave When I Fall Ill… — I Won’t Leave You! – said Marina, embracing Igor. – You’re the best husband! I’d never, ever leave you… He couldn’t believe it was true. Igor was feeling blue… Marina had been married for twenty-five years, and all that time men continued to find her attractive. Even in her youth, she was the most sought-after girl. And not just in her youth! At school, nearly every boy chased after Marina. Yet, she’d never been considered a beauty. She didn’t divorce her husband, complex character though he was. No, Marina stayed with Vadim right to the end. They raised their daughter, married her off. Her son-in-law whisked Daria off to Italy, now they sent back lovely photos and invites to visit. But Marina and Vadim had never made the trip… Maybe Marina would go someday. Vadim was gone for good. Marina’s husband died in a car accident. Such a senseless loss… Later, Marina was told he likely took ill behind the wheel. His heart faltered, he panicked, lost control. — Maybe he blacked out? – she wondered. — We’ll never know now. – sighed her friend, a doctor. – Cause of death: multiple injuries incompatible with life. Marina was in shock. Her friend Elena helped arrange everything. Elena got all the details through her professional contacts. Vadim was buried and Marina was left alone in the large house she and her husband had built their whole lives. Not too big for two, especially if guests dropped by; but for one person, for a woman – it seemed vast, almost a burden. A house needs a man’s touch… Daria came home to say goodbye to her father. She broached the idea of selling the house, buying a flat, maybe Marina moving to Italy with them. — Not a chance! – declared Marina. – I didn’t spend my life building this house just to sell it. And I’m not off to your Italy either. I’ve seen Italy… — Mum! — Naive girl, Daria! – Marina smiled through her tears. – Only joking. — Well, if you’re joking, maybe things aren’t so bad. It was all ambiguous, just as the late Vadim had been. On one hand, he was a caring, loving husband. On the other – a man of moods. When he was in a bad one, he could drive Marina up the wall. Then he’d repent, apologise, and Marina, an easy-going soul, wouldn’t dwell on it. And so they lived. Twenty-five years! Enough to drive you mad… Daria visited, then returned to her own busy life and marriage. Marina was alone. But, knowing herself, Marina realised this wouldn’t last. She mourned for half a year, then, when her tears dried, found a small crowd of suitors had already gathered about her. Even Marina’s own mother had once been surprised by her daughter’s ongoing popularity. — What do they see in you? They’re falling at your feet! You’re not even a beauty, unless I’m missing something. — You’re so kind, Mum. – Marina would smile, applying her lipstick. – Looks mean nothing, just empty noise. A woman should be charming, charismatic. Unique. — Off you go, enjoy yourself, – her mother would laugh. – Or your suitor will tire of waiting. — Another will come along, – Marina would shrug indifferently. Almost thirty years since that conversation, and nothing had changed. Women still complained that there were no eligible men left after forty, nobody worth marrying. Marina never understood that problem. At forty-six, she found herself with not just one, but two decent suitors. Her heart leaned toward Dmitri. He was her ideal man, handsome and intelligent, a wonderful conversationalist, great company – perfect for social occasions. But if truth be told, Dmitri excelled mostly at talking. Marina felt herself falling for him with her ears, but, given her age and experience, she knew he wasn’t the man for real life. Not for her big house. Her other suitor, Igor, was a solid, practical bloke. One who could drink his fill at a party, but always had hands that got things done and a spirit that endured. A real hands-on man with a gentle soul, but a strong backbone. To his wife, this sort of man would be quiet and gentle as a puppy – but move mountains for her, if needed. Somehow, Marina fancied Igor less – silly woman’s logic. He never gave her flowery speeches; sober, Igor was a man of few words. After a drink, he could tell a funny story, a joke, join any conversation. Igor could drink, true, but he was up and about the next day anyway, doused himself with cold water, active and focused – if quiet. Marina chose Igor. Dmitri, disgruntled that his eloquence failed, left. Marina married Igor, and he was over the moon. He drank a bit too much at the wedding, sang and danced until dawn. — You’ve done it again, – Elena smiled. – Barely a year since Vadim passed and you’re already re-married! Women can search high and low for a decent bloke, yet all you need is to step outside your door. — You’ll be telling me next, ‘What do they see in you? You’re not even a beauty!’ — Oh, I won’t go there. But you are unusually popular, that’s for sure. — I don’t know what they see in me, Elena. Ask my mum. Marina winked at her friend and waltzed onto the dance floor with her new husband. As they danced, she chased away her last doubts. So what if Igor was a bit simple? He was strong, capable, even good-looking – and if he was quiet, maybe that wasn’t so bad. If she’d chosen Dmitri, what then? You can’t live on honeyed words. Within a few months, Igor had transformed Marina’s garden into a fairy tale. He cleared away old trees, levelled the ground, built flowerbeds, erected a gazebo. His masculine touch was everywhere in the house. No doubt, Marina had picked the right husband. Igor even provided for the household and showered Marina with gifts. Comparing just this short stretch of marriage with her twenty-five years before, she honestly regretted not meeting Igor sooner. He was golden. In the warm months they’d barbecue and dine in the new gazebo, at the table and benches Igor had made by hand. Marina, full of grilled kebabs, would smile contentedly. Igor would look at her and smile too. — What is it, Igor? — Nothing. I’m just happy. His first wife had been a real bore; he’d never imagined he’d meet anyone as wonderful as Marina. Four years of wedded bliss, and then Igor began to feel… poorly. He grew tired easily, started losing weight for no clear reason. When he did have a drink – and Igor liked a tipple – he felt even worse. — Igor, you must see a doctor! – Marina insisted. – What are you waiting for? Something’s not right. — Nonsense, Marina. I’ll be fine! — What sort of caveman thinking is that? And if you’re not fine? Or are you, like so many men, scared of doctors? — No… Igor wouldn’t tell Marina what he was truly afraid of. He feared that if he was really ill, Marina would leave him. She didn’t marry him for love, after all – he knew that. But he loved her, for all that. He’d seen her in a shop one day, struggling to find her purse in her bag, and in that very moment he’d fallen for her. Something about her confusion just touched him deeply. He immediately wanted to step in and protect her forever, even though his own mother, upon first meeting Marina, had said, — Son, it’s your life, but what do you see in her? She’s not a beauty. She’s no spring chicken. You could have anyone, even a younger woman! But Igor needed no one other than Marina. Now, if he were truly ill, would Marina want Igor at all? She never succeeded in getting him to the doctor. It was a Saturday evening, and Elena and her husband Boris were visiting. Igor and Boris were out back, drinking beer and grilling. In the kitchen, where they were making salads, Elena said to Marina, — Has something happened to Igor? He doesn’t look well. — That’s just it! – Marina exclaimed. – I keep begging him to see a doctor, but he won’t! You’re a doctor. What do you think? Is something wrong? — Well… he looks worse nowadays. Lost weight. His skin looks a bit yellow, too. — Oh God! Elena, please make him see a doctor, I beg you. Maybe he’ll listen to you! Elena studied her friend’s face. — Marina… do you love him? I just remember you had doubts… Marina bit her lip and said nothing. Elena never got the chance. Igor collapsed during dinner. They called an ambulance. Marina rode with Igor to the hospital. He never regained consciousness. She held his hand and prayed. He went straight in for surgery. — Liver tumour. — Cancer?! – Marina panicked. — We’ll wait for the test results. The tumour was benign, but it had grown to significant size before Igor reached the operating table. Doctors forbade Igor nearly everything. They warned him recovery would be long, and he might not regain full health. He wasn’t exactly young, after all. Igor became despondent. His mother came to visit him in hospital, while Marina was at work. She brought him food that he was allowed – the list was short. — I hardly recognise you, son! – said Tatyana. – What’s this? You pulled through. No cancer. You should be glad, yet you look so down. Here, eat your steamed cutlets. — Don’t want to eat. — You must! What’s wrong? At least Marina visits, doesn’t she? — She does… for now. – Igor muttered. — What? You think she’ll leave you? Don’t be daft! — I’m finished! Useless! Not even allowed to work. I’m fifty in June and now an invalid. Who wants an invalid? — What’s all this, then? – Marina said, coming in. – You’re shouting down the whole ward. Good afternoon, Tatyana. — I’ll get going then. Hello, Marina. Take care. — What happened? Igor’s mother waved her off and left. Marina washed her hands and approached her miserable husband. — What’s all this grumpiness, ‘invalid’? Arms and legs all there. Not much wrong with you that won’t heal. Do you know what I read about the liver? — What? — Fun fact: the liver’s the only organ that regrows by itself. If you have fifty-one percent left, you’ll recover completely. And you have sixty percent remaining. Just give it time. Everything will mend! — And do I have that time? — What? – asked Marina, confused. — Time. — Igor, what’s going on? Haven’t they told me something? Did you ask the doctors to hide something? — That’s not it… Igor was sent home. Life’s hardest part began. Any physical work left Igor spent almost immediately. The thought of his upcoming milestone birthday only made him gloomier. Can’t eat, can’t drink. Some celebration! Marina seemed oblivious, cheerily sharing his bland health food. — Marina… – he finally spoke out. – What happens to us now? — What do you mean? – she asked. — This… My recovery is slow. Will you leave me? Best to say so now. — Why would I ever leave you? I love being with you. — But that was when I could work, fix things. What’s so good now? Even I don’t like myself like this. — Oh, nonsense. Get a grip! — I’m trying! But it’s tough. Hammer two nails and I’m dog-tired. Marina approached from behind, hugged him, pressed her cheek to his neck. — I love you. And I never, never will leave you. Take your time with your recovery. There’s no rush. — You love me? Truly? — With all my heart. Marina doesn’t leave Igor. He recovers, slowly but surely. For his birthday, Marina threw a party without any booze, so he wouldn’t feel left out. A few friends came; they played board games in the garden gazebo. — You struck gold, Igor, said his friends as they left. — You’ll probably go home and get drunk for me now, won’t you? – Igor quipped. Everyone laughed and went their way. In the evening, Marina and Igor sat on the porch, gazing at the stars. Happy. For the first time in many months, Igor felt better. He believed he would heal. And that his wife truly wouldn’t leave him. He held Marina tighter. — What is it, Igor? — Everything’s perfect! – he replied. — At last, – Marina chuckled, kissing him on the cheek. They were happy. 💬 Friends, if you’d like to read more of our stories – leave your comments and don’t forget to like. Your support inspires us to keep writing!

You never really loved me. You only married me without love. And now that Im illyoull leave me, wont

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“Gran, Hello! — shouted Matthew. — Who gave you permission to keep a wolf in the village?”

Gran Alice! shouted Matthew. Who gave you permission to keep a wolf in our village? My heart sank as

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Rita Went to Her Best Friend Pauline’s Flat to Water the Plants and Feed Her Pet Turtle While Pauline and Her Husband Were on Holiday—But When Rita Opened the Door with the Spare Key, She Froze in Shock: The Lights Were On, the Christmas Tree Was Glowing, the TV Was Blasting, and Strange Noises Came from the Bathroom. When She Opened the Bathroom Door, She Gasped in Surprise Rita Was Left Alone Over New Year’s, Feeling Sad While Her Best Friend Pauline and Her Husband Went to the Lake District Five Days Before the Holidays—Trusting Rita, Her Most Reliable Friend, to Take Care of the Plants and Turtle Since They Lived in the Same Building, Just Different Entrances. Rita Didn’t Know Fate Had Another Twist in Store for Her. A Week Before New Year’s, Her Boyfriend Nick—Who She’d Thought Was Her Soulmate for Two Years—Dropped a Bombshell Over Dinner: He Was in Love with Someone Else, and His New Partner Was Already Four Months Pregnant! Of Course, He Had to Marry Her; That’s What She, Her Mum, and Grandma Demanded. Nick Didn’t Argue—He Agreed. “And What About Me?” Rita Asked in Disbelief. Nick, Calmly Finishing His Dinner, Wiped His Mouth and Said, “You? Don’t worry about it. Admit it, there’s nothing left between us but the shell. You’re lucky I’m saving you from me. Not a great loss, am I? Might as well help me pack? No? Fine, I’ll do it myself.” And He Just Started Packing… Rita Wept at Home for Four Days, Not Eating—Only Drinking Coffee—Until Their Other Friend, Svetlana, Came By. The Plan Had Been for Rita, Svetlana, and Nick to Celebrate New Year’s Together—Table Booked Months Ago. Now Nick Was Bringing His New Wife. No Way Did Rita Want to Spend New Year’s with Her Parents—They’d Just Pity Her, Especially Since Mum Never Liked Nick… On 31st December, Rita Still Held Out Hope for a Miracle—Old Habits Die Hard. Even Adults Wish for Miracles and Make New Year’s Wishes… The Evening Came. Nothing Happened. She Realised She Hadn’t Given Nick His Christmas Present: a Plush Cornflower-Blue Wool Jumper—Expensive, Bought Just Before He Left. She Tried It On—Too Big, Shoulders Too Wide. “Would’ve Been Big on Nick, Too,” She Thought, Then Put It Back in the Bag. Rita Did Her Makeup, Promised Herself Not to Cry, and Walked Out—Believing the Old Saying: “The Way You Spend New Year’s Eve Is the Way You’ll Spend the Year.” Better to Wander the Festive Streets Than Sit Home Alone. With Just Over an Hour and a Half Until Midnight, She Popped into the Shop and Found Pauline’s List in Her Pocket: After ‘Water the Plants’ Came ‘Feed the Turtle Twice a Week.’ Rita Panicked—With Everything Going On, She’d Forgotten All About the Turtle! If Anything Happened, Pauline Would Never Forgive Her. Forgetting About New Year’s, Rita Rushed to Pauline’s Flat to Feed the Turtle, Unlocked the Door…and Stopped Dead: Every Light Was On, the Christmas Tree Sparkled with Fairy Lights, the TV Blared, and Strange Noises Came from the Bathroom. She Opened the Bathroom Door and Clapped Her Hands in Surprise: There, Shaving and Singing to Himself, Was a Man She Didn’t Know! Her First Thought: Someone Had Broken In—But Who Breaks Into a Flat to Shave? “Who Are You?” Rita Demanded Fiercely. He Quickly Rinsed Off, Smiled, and Said, “Don’t Worry—I’m Not Dangerous. I’m Pauline’s Cousin, I Live and Work Out of Town. I Was Here on Business, Meant to Go Back But Couldn’t. Luckily, I Have My Cousin’s Spare Key, We Called, She Said I Could Stay Here.” “Have You Seen the Turtle?” Rita Asked Out of Nowhere. He Nodded. “Fed It, Too. It Went Over There,” He Pointed Behind the Sofa. Pulling On His Shirt, He Said, “Let’s Introduce Ourselves: I’m Ian.” She Told Him Her Name, and He Held Out His Hand. “Let’s Celebrate Together! Just Ten Minutes Until Midnight.” Suddenly, Rita Ducked Out, Rushed Down the Stairs—Ian, Puzzled, Called After Her, “Wait! Where are you going?” Rita Raced Home, Grabbed the Gift Bag, and Tore Back to Pauline’s Flat—Door Still Open—Just as the Clock Struck Midnight. Ian Handed Her a Glittering Glass of Bubbly, and She Handed Him the Gift Bag. “Happy New Year!” She Said. He Opened It: The Plush Cornflower-Blue Wool Jumper. He Pulled It On—it Fit Perfectly, Even at the Shoulders. “I’ve Had Plenty of New Year Surprises,” Ian Said, “But This Is the Best One Yet.” “I’ve Had Two Surprises—Nick Leaving and Meeting Ian,” Thought Rita, But She Just Smiled. The Next New Year, Rita, Ian, and Their Little Daughter Celebrated Together in Their Own Home…

Many years ago, I found myself caring for my friend Emilys flat over the New Year. Emily and her husband

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The Evening When Compassion Changed Everything: Vera, Rushing Home with Groceries and Worries, Becomes an Unlikely Bridge Between an Estranged Mother and Daughter After a Medical Emergency Next Door at Christmas

Vera hurried home, lugging heavy shopping bags in both hands, wrestled into a mild sweat and mentally

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Igor, the Boot’s Open! Stop the Car, the Boot’s Open! – Marina Shouted, But Knew It Was All Lost! Their Gifts and Treats—Red Caviar, Smoked Salmon, Festive Meats—Scattered Across the Busy Motorway as They Drove to Igor’s Grandma’s Village for the Holidays, While Behind Them, Drivers Obliviously Passed by, and the Kids Burst Into Tears Watching Mum’s Disappointment

James, the boot! The boots come open, slow down I shouted, but before the words even left my mouth, I

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When Destiny Knocks: Svetlana’s Life Is Shattered by an Unexpected Visitor with Shocking News About Her Husband and an Unthinkable Proposal

Emma turned off her computer and started gathering her things to leave. Ms. Turner, theres a young woman

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Towards a New Life: “Mum, how long are we going to be stuck in this backwater? We’re not even in a proper town – this is the middle of nowhere!” groaned my daughter as she walked in from the coffee shop, humming her favourite song. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Masha: this is our home, our roots. I’m not going anywhere,” Mum replied, stretching out on the sofa with her legs propped on a cushion – her so-called ‘Churchill at rest’ pose. “Oh, you and your roots! Give it ten years and you’ll have wilted, with another hopeless fella turning up for you to call Dad.” Stung, Mum got up and checked herself in the built-in wardrobe mirror. “My roots are fine!” “Well, they are for now. Another year or two and you’ll have to choose: turnip, pumpkin or sweet potato – pick a vegetable you fancy as a chef.” “Darling, if you want to leave, go. You’re old enough to do anything that’s legal. Why do you need me?” “For my conscience, Mum. If I leave for a better life, who’ll look after you?” “I’ve got my insurance, a steady wage, broadband – and I’m sure I’ll end up with some bloke, as you point out. It’s easy for you to move, you’re young and modern and teenagers don’t drive you nuts yet. Me? I’m halfway to Valhalla already.” “Ha! You joke like my mates, and you’re only forty…” “Why say it out loud? Ruin my day, why don’t you?” “In cat years, that’s just five,” Masha grinned. “You’re forgiven.” “Mum, let’s just go before it’s too late. There’s nothing holding us here.” “I fought to get our surname spelled right on the gas bill, and our GP surgery is round the corner,” came Mum’s final protest. “You can register anywhere, and we don’t have to sell the house. If it doesn’t work, we can come back. I’ll show you how real life is lived!” “The sonographer did warn me you’d never let me rest. Thought he was joking – no wonder he won bronze on Britain’s Psychic Challenge. Right then, let’s go. But if it doesn’t work out, you promise you’ll let me come home with no drama?” “Scout’s honour!” “Your co-author in the registry office gave me the same line – and you two have the same stubborn streak…” *** Masha and Mum skipped the nearest city and headed straight for London. Draining three years’ savings, they rented a studio flat wedged between a street market and a bus station, paying four months upfront. The money ran out before they knew it. Masha was calm and full of energy. Instead of unpacking, she threw herself into city life – creative, social, even nightlife. She was instantly at home: quick to make friends, picked up local slang and dress codes, and acted as though she’d never lived anywhere else. Meanwhile, Mum rode a daily cycle of calming tea in the morning and sleeping pills at night. Ignoring Masha’s pleas to explore, she plunged into job hunting, only to find London’s wages and rent were a bad joke. A quick calculation (no clairvoyant needed) told her they’d last six months, max. Sticking to what she knew, Mum got work as a cook at a private school, then evenings as a kitchen porter at the local café. “Not this again, Mum! Chained to the stove as always – what’s the point of the big city? You could retrain – be a designer, a sommelier, a brow-tech! Ride the tube, sip posh coffee, live a little.” “I’m just not up for retraining, Masha. You don’t worry, I’ll settle in eventually. Just make sure you do.” Masha sighed about her mother’s lack of ambition, but got on with ‘settling’ herself – hanging out in cafés on others’ tabs, forging mental and spiritual bonds with the city like some Instagram runes guru advised, chasing circles of people who talked of ‘success’ and ‘making it’. But she didn’t land a job or a boyfriend: girl and city had to suss each other out first. Four months in, Mum was paying rent from her earnings, quit her evening job, and started catering for another school. Masha had dropped a few courses, tried out for local radio, acted in a student film (payment: pasta and tinned beef), and had brief dalliances with two “musicians”: one was a total donkey, the other a tomcat with more kids than sense. *** “Mum, fancy pizza and a film tonight? I’m wiped – can’t face going out,” Masha yawned, doing her best impression of Churchill-at-rest while Mum powdered her nose. “You order it, I’ll transfer the money – don’t keep any for me, I doubt I’ll be hungry when I’m back.” “Back from where?” Masha sat up, frowning at her mum’s back. “I’ve been invited for dinner,” Mum giggled, suddenly shy. “By whom?” Masha scowled. “Some bloke from the school inspection team. I fed him your favourite chicken burgers, he asked to meet the head chef, we shared a laugh – head chef at a school! Anyway, we had coffee, and now he’s having me round for dinner.” “Are you mad? Going to a strange man’s HOUSE? For DINNER?” “Why not?” “Don’t you get it? He’s not after your food!” “I’m forty and single, darling – he’s forty-five, clever, not married. Honestly, whatever he’s after, I’ll enjoy it.” “You sound like a hopeless small-towner, as if you’ve no choice.” “I don’t recognise you! You dragged me here so I’d live, not just exist.” You can’t argue with that logic. Masha realised they’d switched places, and it threw her. She ordered a giant pizza and spent the evening comfort eating. Mum returned around midnight, glowing in the dark hallway. “Well?” Masha grumbled. “A lovely guy, nothing like a potato beetle, proper local,” Mum giggled, heading for the shower. Mum started dating: theatre, stand-up, jazz concerts, a library card, a tea club – even a new GP. In six months, she’d enrolled in upskilling courses, earned certificates, and mastered new dishes. Masha didn’t sit idle either: she tried for top companies, but the ‘dream jobs’ chewed her up and spat her out. Friends vanished when she stopped being fun-for-free. In the end, she became a barista, then a night bartender. Life blurred into exhaustion and rings under her eyes. The punters chatted her up, but none were likely candidates for ‘true love’. It all grew unbearable. “You were right, Mum. There’s nothing for us here. Sorry for dragging you along. We need to go home,” Masha blurted after another tough night. “Go? Where to?” Mum was packing a suitcase. “Home! Where they spell our name right and the GP knows us.” “I’m settled here now, love – don’t want to leave,” Mum replied, searching Masha’s teary face. “But I’m not! I want to go back. All this – the rubbish tube, overpriced coffee, snobby bar customers – it’s not for me. At least you’re packing…” “I’m moving in with Eugene,” Mum casually revealed. “What do you mean? Moving IN?” “I figured you’re grown up, have a job, can handle the rent. I’m giving you a gift: life in the capital, beautiful and independent, with everything ahead of you. You’ve given me so much! If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be wilting in that dump. Here, life’s in full swing. Thank you!” She kissed Masha’s cheeks, but Masha wasn’t ready for thanks. “Mum, what about ME? Who’ll look after me?” cried Masha. “You’ll have your insurance, your pay, the Internet – and maybe meet a nice guy,” Mum quoted herself. “So you’re just leaving me?” “Not leaving, just holding you to your no-drama promise.” “Fine… House keys?” “In my bag. But one thing: Gran’s thinking of moving, too. I’ve sorted it with her – can you help her pack?” “Granny’s coming to London?!” “Yep. I sold her the London dream just like you did me. There’s a post job going, and your gran knows mail better than anyone – she’ll risk it before her ‘roots’ give up.”

Towards a New Life Mum, how much longer are we going to rot in this backwater? groaned her daughter as

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The Kidnapping of the Century: All I Wanted Was to Have Men Chasing After Me and Crying They Couldn’t Catch Up! Instead, I Woke Up After a Wild New Year’s Party to Find Myself Surrounded by a Mystery Husband, Four Mischievous Children, and a Family Holiday I Couldn’t Remember—Was This the Start of My Dream Life, or Had I Just Been Abducted?

The Kidnapping of the Year I just want men chasing after me, crying because they cant catch up!