Emily Taylor

LOVING WITH PATIENCE, ENDURING WITH LOVE John and Mary had a church wedding. On the day of the ceremony, as the wedding procession neared the church, a wild summer storm sprang up out of nowhere and tore Mary’s veil from her head. The veil soared skyward like a balloon, whirled about, then dropped, exhausted, into a muddy puddle. All the guests gasped in shock. The storm vanished as swiftly as it arrived. John dashed for the veil but could not reach it in time. The once-snowy veil now lay in a black puddle. In distress, Mary called to her groom, “John, don’t pick it up. I’m not wearing that veil!” The local old ladies outside the church began to mutter, warning: with such a sign, storms and troubles would follow the couple’s lives… A fake white flower was hastily pinned in Mary’s hair from the nearest shop—there was no time to find a new veil. One does not keep one’s own wedding waiting! The bride and groom stood together, candles in hand, pledging their vows before God at the altar. But before the sacred ceremony, John and Mary had already signed papers at the registry office and celebrated with a beautiful reception. That, as Mary told herself, was for people. Three years later, their home rang with the laughter of two children: little Sophie and Arthur. Life flowed along peacefully. But a decade on, a knock came at John and Mary’s door. Mary, ever the gracious hostess, welcomed all—invited or otherwise—offering a warm meal, a cup of tea, and a listening ear. This particular guest, however, was different. She arrived when John was out. Mary’s eyes sized up the stranger immediately: well-built, beautiful, young, and polite. “Hello Mary,” she introduced herself. “I’m Emily. I’m… I’m to be your husband’s future wife.” “How fascinating!” Mary replied in surprise. “And how long has John been your fiancé?” Mary pressed on with the odd conversation. “A long while. But I can’t wait any longer. John and I are expecting a child,” Emily reported, entirely unfazed. “Hmm… A textbook saga—wife, mistress, illegitimate child… Do you know John and I are church-wed? We have children,” Mary tried to reason. “I know everything. But John and I have true love! Forever too! You could annul the marriage. He’s not faithful. I asked my priest; it’s allowed,” Emily insisted. “Well, young lady, I sincerely advise you not to interfere in another’s marriage! We’ll handle our own love and loyalty,” Mary said, now irritated. “Good day.” Emily shrugged—“I warned you”—and hastily left. Mary slammed the door, furious: “She’s done her research… not getting my John!” She couldn’t help recalling how John had seemed different lately—longer hours at work, sudden business trips, a newfound interest in fishing… All classic signs. Women always sense a rival’s shadow. But Mary forced the dark thoughts away; perhaps it was her imagination, and John was guiltless. That evening, when John got home, Mary fed him well before broaching the uncomfortable topic. “John, are you in love?” she began, struggling with the words. “I am,” John confirmed, tense. “Your… sweetheart came by today. Is it serious?” Mary dreaded his answer. “I’m a scoundrel! I can’t live without Emily! I tried to break it off but failed! Let me go, Mary!” John begged. “You’re free…” Mary replied softly, realizing appeals to conscience or the children would be pointless. Life would decide. John moved out to be with his beloved. Mary sought comfort, and advice, from her vicar. “My daughter, love suffers long and never fails—remember the words of Scripture. You have the right to annul the marriage, for your husband has fallen into sinful lust. Or you may forgive, pray, and wait for his return. The Lord works in mysterious ways…” Two months later, Mary discovered she was pregnant—John’s child. She felt it was a sign that, in time, John would repent and return. A baby boy was born; Mary’s mother suggested naming him Jack—an English John. “Maybe your John will find his way home—miracles happen,” her mother smiled, helping care for all the children with devotion. John never forgot Sophie or Arthur—he spoiled them, took them on seaside holidays, sent Mary money by envelope. Mary forbade the kids from telling him about baby Jack, but of course, children never obey. Sophie blurted out the secret on a visit; John, believing Mary had moved on, felt a pang for his old, happy life—not imagining Jack was his own son. Meanwhile, Emily was in hospital on bedrest. John flitted between bringing fruit and hunting for “tasty” chalk to quell her cravings for calcium. Tragedy struck: Emily gave birth to a stillborn daughter, then later suffered a miscarriage. Devastated, Emily longed for a pause before another child, but fate had other plans. John doted on her, feeling deep guilt for their suffering. Back at Mary’s, her former university friend David began visiting. He’d courted her years ago, but she’d always found him too picky, too serious, too much a mama’s boy. When she met John, David was resigned to his fate. One rainy autumn day, Mary met David on the bus. He sensed her sadness, and she invited him round. Over a hearty dinner, she poured out every sorrow. He listened quietly, with understanding. Mary pecked him on the cheek for his sympathy—David, still single and childless, became a regular guest, bringing treats for the children and flowers for Mary. Mary laid firm boundaries: “Come by as you please, but I’m waiting for my husband. No funny business.” Even friendship was happiness to David; he called her his honorary sister, the children, his nieces and nephew. Time passed, and change returned to John’s new family: Emily finally gave birth to a healthy daughter—Grace. Emily was swept into motherhood, but couldn’t forget her conversation with Mary. Stolen happiness is always tinged with bitterness. Only after Grace’s birth did she truly understand the pain she’d caused. She wanted to fall at Mary’s feet and beg forgiveness. John adored baby Grace—spoiling her, comforting her through the nights, cherishing every moment. Years flowed by. Five years later, Emily grew gravely ill at just thirty. John was frantic: hospitals, doctors, expensive treatments. Nothing helped—Emily was dying. Preparing herself for the end, she had just one last wish: “Take me to your first wife, please,” she whispered to John. Mary had heard the news—from Sophie, who still visited her dad. Mary agreed at once. John carried Emily, weak as a whisper, into the house. The whole family gathered, waiting for an explanation. “Leave us, please,” Emily asked quietly. Mary sat beside her on the bed. “Forgive me, if you can, Mary. This is God’s punishment. I beg you—please take Grace as your own. I have only John, and you. Promise you’ll raise her alongside John,” Emily pleaded desperately, tears streaming. Mary gently squeezed her hand. “Emily, it’s not God’s punishment—it’s our own doing. I forgave you long ago. Don’t worry about Grace—we won’t abandon her. Stay here, with John. My house is big enough for everyone. You’ll get better—believe me, with God all things are possible! Don’t despair.” So Emily stayed, the house swelling like a fairy-tale cottage, everyone finding a place. David, tender since the moment he met Emily, was her greatest support. Gradually, without realising, he fell in love with Emily, adoring Grace as if she were his own. Emily fought to recover. Driven by hope, by Mary’s kindness, and by David’s gentle presence, she slowly regained strength. In time, Emily announced at dinner: “Mary, John, Grace and I—and David—will be moving out. Thank you for everything—for your love, your home, your hearts. I have never met such people! I never will again. Thank you.” John and Mary exchanged looks; they knew that love was blossoming between David and Emily. Earlier, John had made a confession to Mary: “Mary, whatever happens, I want to come back to you, to raise our three children together. Please, take me back. I’ll beg, if I must!” “Do you even need to ask?” Mary replied, embracing her prodigal husband. “But what about Grace?” Mary worried. “She’s my daughter. I’ll never turn her away. My home will always be open to her,” John promised. As David, Emily, and Grace prepared to leave, Emily pulled John aside: “Love Mary, John—love her more than life. Don’t ever hurt her. I’ll remember you always.” “Be happy, Emily,” John replied.

TO LOVE ENDURING, TO ENDURE LOVING Edward and Grace had a church wedding. On the day of their wedding

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I was eight years old when my mum left home. She walked to the corner, hailed a cab, and never came back. My brother was five. Everything changed after that. Dad began doing things he’d never done before: waking up early to cook breakfast, learning how to do laundry, ironing school uniforms, fumbling through brushing our hair before we left for school. I watched him misjudge rice portions, burn meals, forget to separate whites from coloured clothes in the wash. But somehow we never went without. He came home tired from work and helped with homework, signed our exercise books, and made lunchboxes for the next day. Mum never came to visit. Dad never brought another woman home, never introduced anyone as his partner. We knew he went out and sometimes got back late, but his personal life stayed outside our walls. There was only me and my brother. I never heard him say he’d fallen in love again. His routine was work, come home, cook, wash, sleep, repeat. On weekends he took us to the park, the river, the shopping centre—even if it was just to window-shop. He learnt how to braid hair, sew on buttons, and make packed lunches. When we needed costumes for school plays, he fashioned them from cardboard and old fabric. He never complained. Never said, “This isn’t my job.” A year ago, Dad passed away—it happened quickly, with no chance for long goodbyes. While sorting through his things, I found old notebooks: lists of household expenses, important dates, reminders like “pay the school fee,” “buy shoes,” “take the girl to the doctor.” No love letters, no photos with another woman, no sign of a romantic life. Just the traces of a man who lived for his children. Since he’s been gone, one question won’t leave me alone: Was he happy? My mum left to find her own happiness. Dad stayed and, it seemed, gave up his own. He never rebuilt a family. Never had a home with a partner. Never again became a priority for anyone but us. Now I realise what an incredible father I had. But I also see that he was a man who stayed alone so that we wouldn’t be. And that weighs heavy. Because now he’s gone, I wonder if he ever received the love he deserved.

I was eight years old when my mother left our home. She walked to the end of the street, got into a taxi

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Born Again to Happiness: A Widow’s Retreat from Grief, an Unexpected Sanatorium Romance, a Second Chance at Love—and the Blended English Family That Learned to Forgive

Man, please stop following me everywhere I go! I told you already, Im mourning my husband. Dont pursue

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“Get Out of My House!” Boris Roared – A Mother-in-law’s Cruel Words Push Her Son to Defend His Adopted Daughter and Break All Family Ties

Get out! bellowed Barry. You son, what are you his mother began, hauling herself upright, clutching the

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Lina Was “Bad”—Very Bad, Honestly Almost Pitiful: Unloved by All, Judged for Living Alone Without a Husband, Looked Down on at Work for Not Boasting of Housework Like the Married Women, Rumoured to Have Many Lovers, Scolded by Her Mum for Failing to “Settle Down” Again After Two Disastrous Marriages, Mocked for Enjoying Her Own Company and Rejecting Drudgery—But Despite All Their Gossips and Sighs, Lina Just Smiles Secretly and Dances Through Life, “Bad” in Their Eyes, But Content in Her Own

Monday, 7th March Sometimes I wonder just how bad I truly am, or rather, how willingly the world wants

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Staring into the Void: When Young Love, Family Scandals, and Broken Promises Shatter the Dream of Happiness for Anna, Dima, and Their Daughters in Small-Town England

STARING INTO THE VOID David and Alice got married when they had just turned nineteen. They couldn’

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“Mum, It’s Us, Your Sons… Mum…” She Looked at Them Anna and Robert Had Spent Their Entire Lives Struggling in Poverty. Once Full of Hope, Anna Watched Her Dreams Fade as Hardship and Addiction Took Over. With Three Sons Born in Quick Succession and Little Income, Despair Consumed the Family. After Years of Sacrifice, Both Parents Fell into the Grip of Alcohol, Forgetting Their Children as the Village Watched Helplessly. When a Neighbor Suggested the Boys Were Better Off in an Orphanage, Anna and Robert Relinquished Them. Years Passed—The Brothers Grew Up, Found Jobs, and Stuck Together, Always Haunted by the Parents Who Abandoned Them. One Day, They Returned to Find Their Mother, Staring Blankly, Until Recognition Dawns and Tears Flow. Can They Forgive the Past?

Mum, its us, your children Mum She glanced at them. Emma and George had spent their lives on the edge

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My Husband Always Told Me I Wasn’t Feminine Enough — At First He Just Hinted I Should Wear More Makeup, Dresses, and Be Softer, but I’ve Always Been Practical, Straightforward, and Not Much for Vanity. As Time Went On, His Comments Became More Frequent, Comparing Me to Women We Saw on Social Media or Wives of Friends, Saying I Seemed More Like a Mate Than a Wife. I Never Thought It Was Serious—Until the Day I Buried My Father, When He Criticised How I Looked in My Grief and Said My Appearance Would Make People Talk. Now I See Him Differently—But I Feel I Can’t Leave He’s All I Have. What Would You Say to a Woman in My Position?

My husband used to remark that I wasnt feminine enough. At first, hed mention it in passingsuggesting

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A Week Before Our Wedding, She Told Me She Didn’t Want to Get Married. Everything Was Already Paid For—The Venue, Legal Papers, Rings, Even Part of the Family Celebration. I’d Spent Months Organising It All, Working Full-Time and Setting Aside 20% of My Salary Every Month for Her—Hairdresser, Nails, Everything She Wanted. I Thought Supporting Her Was My Duty as a Partner. A Year Before, I Took Her Entire Family on a Seaside Holiday, Paying for Everything After Saving and Working Late Hours. Then, Just Days Before the Ceremony, She Told Me She Never Wanted to Marry—That I’d Done Too Much, That My Love Felt Overwhelming. She Said Yes to My Proposal Only Because I Asked in Front of Her Family. With Five Days To Go, She Walked Away, Leaving Behind the Contracts, Paid Bills, Plans and a Cancelled Wedding. That Was the Week I Learned Being the Man Who Pays For Everything, Fixes Everything, and Is Always There Doesn’t Mean Someone Will Stay With You.

The wedding was only a week away when Emily looked at me, her eyes rimmed red, and said she didnt want

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My Husband Never Cheated, But Years Ago He Stopped Being My Husband: Seventeen Years Together, from Young Love and Shared Dreams to Living Like Strangers Under the Same Roof

My husband never cheated on me, but years ago he quietly stopped being my husband. Seventeen years wed