Emily Taylor

Life Back on Track – “Lada, I Forbid You from Speaking to Your Sister and Her Family!” Bogdan’s Jealousy, Family Rift, and My Path to Freedom, Happiness, and Love with Dr. Herman in England

LIFE IN ORDER Clara, I forbid you from speaking to your sister and her family! They have their own livesso do we.

La vida

010

Bittersweet Happiness – Why Don’t You Like This Lady? She’s a Good Girl: Modest, Tidy, Smart, Loves You. Elena’s Disapproving Look at Her Nearly Forty-Year-Old Son Who Still Hasn’t Settled Down, Despite a String of Relationships That All Felt Not Quite Right—Until a Chance Meeting on a Train Leads Denis to Larisa, a Woman with Three Kids Living in a Hostel, Seven Years His Senior, Whom He Marries Against All Odds, Only for Them to Welcome a Daughter with Down’s Syndrome—A Testing, Bittersweet, But Ultimately Cherished Happiness.

BITTERSWEET HAPPINESS “What exactly do you find fault with in that young lady? Shes a fine girl.

La vida

My Dear Wife – “How have you managed to live with the same woman for so many years? What’s your secret?” My brother never missed the chance to ask these questions whenever he visited. “Love, and endless patience—that’s the whole secret,” I always replied. “That recipe isn’t for me. I love all women. Each one is a mystery. Living with a book you’ve already read? No, thanks,” my brother would smirk. My younger brother Peter married at eighteen. His bride, Asya, was ten years his senior—a sweet woman hopelessly in love with Peter for life, while Peter saw her only as a passing amusement. Asya moved into Peter’s family home, where seven relatives lived, and gave birth to a son, Mitya. She believed her happiness was finally complete. The young couple was given a tiny room, where Asya displayed her cherished collection of rare porcelain figurines—ten delicate treasures that everyone in the family knew meant the world to her. At the time, I myself was searching for the one woman to spend a lifetime with—a dream that ultimately came true. My wife and I have now been married over fifty years. Peter and Asya lasted ten years. Asya could boast of little—the devoted, compliant wife who loved her husband and son wholeheartedly. What more did Peter want? One night, Peter came home drunk, picking on Asya and making crude jokes. Sensing trouble, Asya quietly left with Mitya. Suddenly, there was a terrible crash—the sound of her precious collection shattering. She ran back to find all her treasured figurines in pieces, except for one that miraculously survived. Asya kissed it, eyes brimming with tears, and said nothing. From that day, a rift opened between them. Asya fulfilled her duties, but a spark was gone. Peter drank more, brought home questionable friends and women. Asya withdrew, becoming distant and unreachable. Peter neglected the family, and eventually, they parted ways—without shouting or accusations. Asya took Mitya and moved back to her hometown, leaving the lone surviving figurine behind as a memory. Peter wasn’t lonely for long; he threw himself into a reckless, untethered life of repeated marriages, heartbreaks, and drink. Though a brilliant economist—in-demand at universities, author of a textbook, with a sparkling future—he let it all slip away. At last, thinking he had settled down, our relieved family attended his simple wedding to a stunning woman with a seventeen-year-old son—a stepchild Peter underestimated, and who ultimately drove them to divorce five years later after much strife. Peter bounced from one romance to the next—Lily, Natalie, Sue—believing each was the one. But life had other plans. At fifty-three, Peter fell gravely ill. No women remained but his family. On his deathbed, he asked me, “Simon, there’s a suitcase under my bed—bring it here.” I opened it, stunned to find it packed with delicate porcelain figurines, each carefully wrapped. “I collected these for Asya—never forgot the silent reproach in her eyes when her collection was smashed. My poor wife endured plenty. There’s a hidden compartment with money—give it all to my dear wife. Ask her to forgive me. Promise you’ll do this, Simon.” I choked back tears and solemnly agreed. He pointed to an envelope under his pillow with Asya’s address. Though they hadn’t spoken in years, Asya had kept in touch, writing letters—never replied to, but always sent. After Peter’s funeral, I set off to find Asya. We met at a lonely train platform. She hugged me, “Oh Simon—you and Peter could be twins.” I handed her the suitcase, passed on Peter’s request for forgiveness and his last gifts. It was our final parting. Later, I received one last letter: “Simon, thank you and Peter for everything. I’m grateful to God that Peter was part of my life. Mitya and I sold the figurines to a real enthusiast and used the money to move to Canada—my sister had long invited us, and nothing kept me here. All that remained was hope Peter would call me back—he never did. But I am happy he always saw me as his true wife. Now Mitya is better, and I am content. Farewell.” She left no return address…

THE TRUE WIFE How have you managed to survive so many years with one wife? Whats the trick?

La vida

When a Man Breaks: The Night Stepan Came to My Village Surgery Weighed Down by Wife and Mother-in-Law, and How a Little Kindness Saved a Family

Wearied by the Wife and Mother-in-Law It was on one rain-soaked eveningoh, I remember it as clearly as

La vida

Bitterness at the Bottom of My Soul “It’s high time the children’s home took you in! Get out of our family!” I screamed, my voice cracking with fury. The target of my utter indignation was my cousin, James. Oh, how I adored him as a kid! Sandy blond hair, dreamy cornflower-blue eyes, always up for a laugh – that was James. Family gatherings were frequent in those days. Out of all my cousins, James stood out. He could charm with words like a master storyteller, and he was a talented artist. He’d sketch five, even six pictures in an evening with nothing but a pencil. I’d gawk in awe, sneak the drawings away, and hide them carefully in my desk. I treasured James’s creations. James was two years older than me. When he was 14, tragedy struck – out of nowhere, his mum passed away in her sleep. Suddenly, everyone was asking, “What will happen to James?” First, people tried his biological father, but he was difficult to track down. Divorced from James’s mum for years, he’d started a new family and “didn’t want any disruption.” The rest of the relatives shrugged: “We’ve our own lives, our own kids…” Turns out, family’s close at midday, but when darkness falls, it’s nowhere to be found. So, with two kids of their own, my parents became James’s guardians. After all, his late mum was my dad’s little sister. At first, I was excited: James would live with us! But… On his very first day in our house, I noticed something unsettling. Wanting to comfort him, my mother asked, “Is there anything you’d like, James? Don’t be shy.” James didn’t miss a beat: “A Hornby train set.” I should mention – that was an expensive toy, especially then. I was stunned – his mum had died, and he was dreaming about a train set. How could he? My parents bought it immediately. But then it never stopped… “Buy me a tape recorder, jeans, a branded jacket…” This was the ‘80s – those things were pricey and hard to get. Still, my parents, stretching every penny, fulfilled the orphan’s wishes at the expense of their own children. My brother and I tried to be understanding. When James turned 16, he discovered girls. He was a hopeless flirt, constantly chasing after them – including me, his own cousin. But I was sporty, always dodging his sleazy advances, and we even came to blows. I often cried my eyes out. My parents never knew. Kids rarely spill secrets that private. When I rebuffed him firmly, James wasted no time shifting his attention to my friends – and they competed for it! And then James stole. Oblivious and shameless. I remember my piggy bank – I’d saved lunch money to buy presents for my parents. One day, it was empty. James denied everything, cool as a cucumber. My heart shattered – how could he steal from us, his family? He trampled our trust. I sulked and stewed, but James genuinely didn’t see what he’d done wrong – he truly believed everyone owed him. That’s when I started to hate him, and shouted for him to leave. I lashed out at James, said things that couldn’t fit in a hat… Mum barely calmed me down. From that moment on, James ceased to exist for me. I ignored him in every possible way. Later, it turned out other relatives knew what kind of ‘character’ James was. They’d seen things we hadn’t, since we lived in another part of town. James’s old teachers had warned my parents: “You’re taking on a burden – James will ruin your own children.” At his new school, James met Kate, who fell deeply in love and married him straight after graduation. They had a daughter. Kate endured his antics, constant lies and endless affairs. As the saying goes: “If you think you’ve suffered as a single girl, married life will double your woes.” James would always exploit Kate’s love – she seemed bound to him for life. He was called up for National Service, stationed in Yorkshire. There, somehow, James started another family – apparently during weekend leave. After demob, he stayed behind in Yorkshire because he had a son. But Kate, undaunted, tracked him down and, by hook or by crook, got him back. My parents never received a word of thanks from James, though that’s not why they took him in. Today, James Edward is 60, a regular churchgoer. He and Kate have five grandchildren. Life seems fine, but the bitterness from my dealings with James never left me. And I still can’t stomach honey with him, even now…

BITTERNESS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SOUL The Council should have taken you years ago to some home!

La vida

013

Postage Stamp… When Love Sticks: A Family Torn Apart by a Husband’s Affair, a Sister’s Bitterness, and a Daughter’s Search for Answers—From Heartbreak and Revenge to Finding True Love at Last

A POSTAGE STAMP Williams left Emily, Mum sighed heavily down the line. What do you mean? I asked, confused.

La vida

012

A Husband Worth More Than Bitterness: My Journey from Heartbreak and Hardship to Divorce—And Back to Unexpected Love with Igor

A HUSBAND MORE PRECIOUS THAN BITTER GRIEVANCES Edward, that was the final straw! Thats it, were done!

La vida

011

A Christmas Miracle in London: How Forgetting a Gift Led to a Night Full of Surprises, a White Kitten, and New Friendships for the Whole Family

A Miracle for New Years Eve – Tom, will you just explain how you could forget? I reminded you so

La vida

036

He Hated His Wife. He Hated Her… They Had Spent 15 Years Together. For 15 Whole Years, He Saw Her Every Morning, But Only in the Past Year Had Her Habits Begun to Drive Him Mad—Especially One: Stretching Out Her Arms in Bed and Saying, “Good Morning, Sunshine! Today Will Be a Wonderful Day.” Simple Words, Yet Her Thin Hands and Sleepy Face Filled Him with Disgust. She Would Rise, Gaze Out the Window for a Few Moments, Take Off Her Nightdress, and Head to the Bathroom. Once, at the Start of Their Marriage, He Had Admired Her Body and That Freedom That Borderlined on Indecency. Even Now, Though Her Figure Remained Lovely, the Sight of Her Nakedness Filled Him with Rage. Once, He Even Wanted to Push Her to Hurry Her “Waking-Up Process,” But He Only Managed to Bark, “Hurry Up, I’ve Had Enough!” She Didn’t Rush Through Life. She Knew of His Affair and Even Knew the Girl He’d Been Seeing for Three Years. Time Had Scabbed Over the Wounds to Her Pride, Leaving Only a Lingering Sadness. She Forgave His Anger, Indifference, and Foolish Attempts at Recapturing His Youth, But She Refused to Let Anyone Rush Her Life, Savoring Every Minute. That Was How She’d Lived Since Discovering Her Illness. Month by Month, It Was Devouring Her. The First Urge Was to Tell Everyone About Her Fate, Parse the Brutal Truth Into Pieces to Share with Family. But After Spending Those First Terrifying Days Alone, Contemplating Her Mortality, She Decided to Keep Her Secret. As Life Slipped Away, She Gained a Kind of Wisdom, Learning to Simply Observe. She Found Solace in a Little Village Library, a Ninety-Minute Walk Away, Where She’d Disappear Between Bookshelves Labelled “Mysteries of Life and Death” and Seek Answers in Books. He Came to His Lover’s House—Warm, Bright, Familiar. They’d Been Together Three Years, Bound by an Obsessive Love that Saw Him Burning with Jealousy One Moment and Humiliated the Next, Unable to Breathe Away from Her Young Body. Today, He Made up His Mind: Divorce. Why Torture All Three of Them? He No Longer Loved His Wife—He Couldn’t Even Remember Liking Her. He Fished Out Her Photo from His Wallet and Tore It to Shreds, a Symbol of His Decision. They Agreed to Meet in a Restaurant—The Same Where They’d Celebrated Their 15th Anniversary Six Months Before. She Arrived First. He, Meanwhile, Stopped at Home to Hunt for the Divorce Papers, Tearing Through Drawers in a Frenzied Search. There He Found a Dark Blue Sealed Folder He’d Never Noticed. He Tore It Open, Expecting Anything—Even Blackmail Photos. But Instead, He Found Medical Reports and Official Hospital Documents, All with Her Name. Like a Jolt of Electricity, Realization Hit: She Was Seriously Ill. He Googled the Diagnosis, Reading the Chilling Prognosis: “6 to 18 Months.” He Checked the Dates—She’d Been Tested Six Months Ago. The Only Thing That Echoed in His Mind Was, “6 to 18 Months.” She Waited Forty Minutes at the Restaurant. No Answer to Her Calls. She Paid and Left. It Was a Glorious Autumn Day; The Sun Warmed the Soul. “How Beautiful Life Is, How Wonderful to Be on This Earth, with the Sun and the Woods.” For the First Time Since Learning of Her Illness, She Felt Sorry for Herself. Somehow, She’d Managed to Keep Her Terrible Secret from Husband, Family, Friends. She’d Tried to Give Them Peace, Even at the Cost of Her Own Happiness. Soon, All That Would Remain of Her Would Be a Memory. As She Walked, She Saw the Hope and Anticipation in People’s Eyes—Winter Coming, and Then After, Surely, Spring! She Would Not Have That Again. The Injustice Boiled Over in a Torrent of Tears… Back Home, He Paced the Room. For the First Time, He Felt Physically Overwhelmed by the Fragility of Life. He Remembered His Wife as She’d Been, When They Were Young and Hopeful. He Realized He Had Loved Her Then, That Their 15 Years Had Vanished in an Instant, and That Maybe, Just Maybe, Everything Was Still Ahead—Happiness, Youth, Life… In Her Final Days, He Became Devoted, Never Leaving Her Side, Transformed by a Newfound Love and Terror at Losing Her. He Would Have Traded Places with Her, If Only It Could Save Her. If Anyone Reminded Him That Just A Month Before He’d Loathed Her And Planned Divorce, He’d Have Said, “That Wasn’t Me.” He Saw Her Struggle to Let Go, Saw Her Crying at Night When She Thought He Slept. He Understood: There Is No Worse Punishment Than Knowing the Date of Your Own End. He Watched Her Fighting for Life, Grasping to Even the Most Delusional Hopes. She Died After Two Months. He Covered the Path from Home to Grave with Flowers and Wept Like a Baby as Her Coffin Was Lowered, Aging a Thousand Years in a Single Day… At Home, Under Her Pillow, He Found a Note, a Wish She’d Written on New Year’s Eve: “To Be Happy With Him for the Rest of My Days.” People Say All New Year’s Wishes Come True. Maybe It’s True—That Same Year, He’d Written: “To Be Free.” In the End, Each Got Exactly What, For So Long, They Thought They Wanted…

I despised my wife. Despised her Wed been together for fifteen years. Fifteen whole years of my life

La vida

051

She Was Quick to Scold Me in Front of All the Neighbours—My Mother-in-Law’s Garden Drama Left Me Furious and Packing My Bags —“What do you think you’re doing?” hollered my mother-in-law, standing amid the flowerbeds. “This is an absolute disgrace! I raised seven children and never had a single weed!” The neighbours rushed to their fences, eager to listen and gossip. Taking advantage of her audience, my mother-in-law voiced her complaints at full volume while I stood there speechless. At last, exhausted by her own tirade, she took a deep breath and declared, loud enough for everyone on the street to hear: I said nothing. I walked past her, holding my little one tightly. Back inside, I packed all the things she’d need into a box, as well as my son’s and my own. Without a word, I left. Three days later, she called: “What did you do with all the stuff the doctor prescribed? I asked our neighbour to buy some, but she said one jar is awfully expensive. And the rest is in a foreign language, so she won’t touch it. So what do I do now? You just up and left, took offence for no reason, and now I’m left here to die?” I didn’t answer. I turned off my phone and removed the SIM card. That was it. I was done—physically and emotionally drained. A year ago, just before my son was born, my husband died in a car crash on an icy road. Memories of his funeral and the ambulance fade in and out, but I remember waking up the next morning as a new mother, numb and despondent. Life felt pointless without my beloved husband. I fed and rocked my son because that’s what I was told to do, but nothing brought joy. Then the phone rang. “Your mother-in-law isn’t well. They say she won’t survive long without her son.” My decision was instant. I sold my flat in London, invested part of the proceeds in building a new home for my son’s future, and went to care for my mother-in-law. This year, I merely existed. There was no time for sleep, between my grieving mother-in-law and restless baby, both needing my round-the-clock care. Thank goodness I had money. I brought in leading specialists from across the country to treat her, bought every medicine prescribed, and nursed her back to health. At first, I wheeled her round the house, then the garden. Soon, she was strong enough to walk unaided—at which point… I knew I never wanted to see or hear from her again. Let her find everything she needs for her health on her own now. At least I managed to keep some of my savings. My son and I moved into our new flat. This isn’t the life I expected. I thought living with my late husband’s mother would fill the void, as I am an orphan. But now I know—sometimes, the only lesson for my son is this: not everyone deserves your kindness. Some people care more about a weed-free garden than they do about you.

I managed to get my mother-in-law back on her feet. But honestly, Im furious, all because I didnt clear