Harlan Covington, Author at Trending Link

My Husband Invited His Ex-Wife and Their Children to Our Holiday Celebration, So I Packed My Bags and Spent New Year’s Eve with My Best Friend

Tell me youre joking, Oliver. Please dont tell me youre being serious. Or maybe I misheard because of

On the Edge of This Summer Working at the library, Dana considered her life dull—there were few visitors these days, as everyone was online. She often rearranged books on the shelves, dusting them off, but the highlight of her job was reading countless books of every genre: romance, philosophy… And by thirty, she realized that romance had somehow passed her by. At her age, she should probably start a family, but she wasn’t striking in appearance, her job paid little. It had never really crossed her mind to change her job, since she was content. The library mainly saw students, and occasionally schoolchildren or pensioners. Recently, a professional competition was held at the county level and, to her own astonishment, Dana won the grand prize—a fully paid two-week holiday by the seaside. “That’s fantastic. I’ll definitely go,” she cheerfully told her friend and mother. “On my salary I’d never get this far—this is happiness handed to me!” Summer was drawing to a close. Dana walked along the deserted beach; most holidaymakers were at cafes, since today the sea was especially rough. It was her third day at the seaside, and she wanted to stroll the shoreline alone, think, and dream. Suddenly, she saw a young man swept off the pier by a wave. Without a thought for herself, she rushed to help—it was close to shore, and though not a strong swimmer, she could manage in the water. The waves helped her pull the boy, holding him by the collar, until she finally managed to stand waist-deep on solid ground. One idea filled her mind: stay on her feet. She finally managed it. Standing there in her lovely dress, now clinging to her body, she looked at the boy in surprise. “He’s only fourteen, maybe a bit older, just tall and a little taller than me,” she thought and asked, “What were you thinking, swimming in this weather?” The boy got up, thanked her, and, swaying a little, walked off. Dana just shrugged and watched him go. The next morning, she woke with a smile—the weather was stunning, the sun shining bright, the sea sparkling blue and calm, apologising for yesterday’s roughness. After breakfast, she wandered down to the beach, basked in the sun, and later headed for a walk in the park. There, spotting a shooting range, she remembered her sharp aim from school and university. The first shot missed, but the second hit the target. “See, son, that’s how you shoot!” came a man’s voice behind her. She turned, surprised to see the boy from yesterday. The boy’s eyes flashed with fear—he recognised Dana—and she realised his father had no idea his son had nearly drowned. She smiled slightly. “Perhaps you can give us a lesson?” suggested the tall, friendly-looking man. “Zhenya here can’t shoot, and sadly, neither can I,” he added with a warm smile. Afterwards, they wandered together, enjoyed ice cream at a café, and rode the Ferris wheel. Dana half expected Zhenya’s mother to join them soon, but both father and son seemed content and were expecting no one. The boy’s father, introducing himself as Anton, was a fascinating conversationalist, intelligent, and with every passing minute Dana found herself ever more drawn to him. “Dana, have you been here long?” “No, just started my first week—I’ve got another left.” “And where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?” As it turned out, father and son were from the same town as Dana. All three laughed. “Funny, isn’t it? We never met at home, but here—even by chance,” Anton smiled warmly, clearly taken by the charming, composed woman beside him. Zhenya, now at ease, chatted freely—realising Dana wouldn’t tell his dad about the previous day’s mishap. They parted late, Anton and Zhenya seeing Dana to her hotel, promising to meet the next morning. Dana arrived at the beach first; her new friends were nearly an hour late. “Morning!” came Anton’s familiar voice. “Forgive us, Dana, we totally forgot to set the alarm and overslept!” he laughed apologetically, settling beside her. “Dad, I’m going swimming,” said Zhenya, heading toward the water. But Dana shouted, “Wait! You can’t swim!” Anton looked surprised. “Of course he can, he does competitions at school,” he replied. Dana fell silent. Surely, he couldn’t swim? Perhaps she’d been mistaken. They all stayed in a neighbouring hotel. The next days were magical. They met every morning at the beach, parted late, went on sightseeing trips. Dana longed to talk with Zhenya alone—she felt he had something weighing on his mind. In fact, she learned father and son lodged in the neighbouring hotel. The chance soon came. One morning, only Zhenya appeared. “Hi. Dad’s got a fever,” he said, “but I asked if I could come—I told him you’d keep an eye on me,” he smiled. “Sorry I decided that, but I just didn’t want to sit cooped up.” “Zhenya, can I get your dad’s number to call and check on him?” He dictated it. “Hello?” answered Anton, “Maybe not a ‘good’ morning, feeling rough with a fever. Please look after my boy—he’s promised to do everything you ask…” “Don’t worry, just get well. He’s nearly grown and very sensible. I’ll look in later to check on you,” Dana assured him. After a swim, Zhenya sprawled on a sunbed beside Dana and said, “You know, you’re a real friend.” She looked at him, he smiled. “What makes you say that?” “Thanks for not telling Dad about what happened,” Zhenya said, blushing. “I was swept off the pier by a wave, and I panicked for a moment.” “You’re welcome,” Dana smiled, and after a pause, asked, “Zhenya, where’s your mum? Why are you here with just your dad?” Zhenya hesitated, thinking, but then seemed to decide he was grown up enough. Anton’s job sometimes took him away on business trips—Zhenya would stay with his mum, Marina. To everyone else, they looked like a happy family. But as it turned out, it was just an act—because of Marina. One day Anton told his wife, “I’m being sent to London for three weeks for training—afterwards, my boss hinted at a promotion and a pay raise…” His wife seemed pleased. While he was gone, Marina told Zhenya, “We’re having guests—my colleague Arthur and his daughter Kira. Arthur and I need to work on some plans, so you need to entertain Kira. She’s a couple years older than you.” Kira was lively, decisive. Soon, she suggested, “Let’s hang out in the park or something…” Marina agreed and handed her son twenty pounds. “Treat her to an ice cream!” The days passed. With Kira, Zhenya found new experiences—she was older, wise beyond her years. Before his father returned, Kira said, “Well, little man, lucky your dad’s finally coming back. Frankly, I’m tired of keeping you busy—it’s only to keep you out of the way while our parents have fun.” Zhenya was disgusted; still, he could no longer ignore the truth. Back home, he saw his mother’s coldness to his father. The family was on the verge of breaking. He considered whether to tell his dad. Soon enough, he overheard his parents argue. “Yes, I’ve been cheating. So what?” he heard his mother shout as he entered from training. “Nothing. I’ll just file for divorce. You don’t care for our son, so he’ll stay with me…,” said his father. “Fine,” his mother replied, “I’ll have another family.” Hearing the door slam as she left, Zhenya was certain—he wanted to stay with his dad. When Anton tried explaining everything, Zhenya said, “No need. I already know. I love you, and I think we’ll be better off alone.” “You’re a grown-up now,” his father ruffled his hair. “Stay in touch with your mum if you wish—she’s left me, not you.” But Zhenya wasn’t ready to forgive. After the beach, Dana and Zhenya brought fruit to Anton, now feeling better. He promised they’d be at the beach the next day. Three days later, father and son had to go home, but Dana still had two days left. Summer was ending. On the edge of that summer, they said goodbye. Anton promised to meet Dana at the airport; Zhenya smiled. Dana made no plans, just happily reread Anton’s affectionate messages, as he confessed he missed her already and looked forward to her return. Soon, Dana moved into Anton and Zhenya’s flat—perhaps most delighted of all was Zhenya, happy for his father, for himself, and for Dana.

At the Edge of This Summer Working quietly away in a sleepy village library, Diana sometimes felt her

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My Brother’s Pregnant Wife Demanded That We Hand Over Our Two-Bedroom Flat to Them Because We Don’t Have Children – Then Blamed Me When Things Went Shockingly Wrong

My brothers pregnant wife demanded we hand over our flat. Ive been married for ten years now.

My Mother-in-Law Suggested We Move into Her Flat—But Clearly She Had an Agenda —Thank you so much for offering, that’s very generous. But we’ll have to say no. My mother-in-law’s face fell. —Why is that? Are you just too proud? —No, not proud. We’ve just settled in. Switching schools in the middle of the year is stressful for the kids. Besides, we’re used to it here. We’ve just renovated, everything’s new. And at your place… — Kristina paused, choosing her words, then decided to be direct. — You’ve got lots of precious memories and things there. The kids are small, something will get broken or stained. Why put ourselves through that stress? When Kristina got home from work, her husband was standing in the hall, clearly waiting for her. She took off her shoes, walked silently into the bedroom to change, then headed for the kitchen. Her husband trailed behind, silent. Kristina couldn’t take it: —Are we going to start this again? I already said: no! Denis let out a long sigh. —Mum called again today. Says her blood pressure’s up. It’s hard for her over there, Granddad and Grandma have gotten very frail, acting like kids. She can’t cope on her own. —And? — Kristina took a sip of cold water, staving off rising irritation. — She chose to live at the cottage. She rents the flat out and gets money, gets fresh air. She liked it there. —She liked it until she had the energy. Now she’s moaning it’s boring and hard. Well… — Denis took a deep breath. — She’s suggested we move into her three-bed. Kristina stared at him, barked: —No. —Why say “no” right away? You didn’t even hear me out! — Denis threw up his hands. — Look: it’s a great area. Fifteen minutes from your office, twenty from mine. The language school’s just across the road, the nursery’s in the yard. No more commuting in traffic! And we could rent out this place, the mortgage would pay for itself. We’d even have some money left over. —Denis, do you hear yourself? — Kristina got right up close. — We’ve lived here two and a half years. I chose a spot for every plug socket in this place! The kids have friends next door. This is finally our home. Ours! —What does it matter where you live if you’re only home to sleep? We’re spending two hours a night just getting back from work! — he parried. — It’s an old building, high ceilings, thick walls, you can’t hear the neighbours. —And the décor was outdated even when I was at school, — Kristina shot back. — Have you forgotten the smell in there? And most of all, it isn’t our home. It’s Anna Leonidovna’s. —Mum says she won’t interfere. She’ll stay at the cottage, just wants to know her flat’s being looked after. Kristina gave a bitter smile. —Denis, do you have the memory of a goldfish? Remember how we bought this flat? Her husband looked away. Of course, he remembered. They’d spent seven years in rentals, saving every penny. When they finally had enough for a deposit, Denis had gone to his mum. The plan was perfect: sell mum’s big flat in the centre, buy her a nice two-bed and something decent for the two of them. Anna Leonidovna nodded and smiled, saying, “Of course, you need more space.” They’d already lined up options, already dreamed. But on the very day they were supposed to meet the agent, she called. —Remember what she said? — Kristina continued. — “I’ve been thinking… My area is so prestigious, the neighbours are so civilised. How can I go to your new build with all those people? No, I don’t want to.” So we went to the bank, took out a huge mortgage and got this place five miles outside the M25. Ourselves. Without her “prestigious” square meters. —Well, she was afraid of change, her age and all, — muttered Denis. — She’s different now. She’s lonely. Wants the grandkids close. —The grandkids? She sees them once a month when we visit with groceries. Then after half an hour she’s sighing because the noise gives her a migraine. Six-year-old Artyom ran into the kitchen, four-year-old Liza at his heels. —Mum, Dad, we’re hungry! — Artyom shouted. — And Liza broke my plane! I spent three hours building it, and she smashed it… —That’s not true! — squeaked Liza. — He dropped it himself! Kristina exhaled. —Right, go wash your hands. Dinner soon. Did Daddy cook pasta? —I did, — Denis muttered. — And sausages. While the kids banged chairs and Kristina dished out food, the subject was dropped. They didn’t pick it up again until bedtime. *** Saturday, they had to go to the cottage — Anna Leonidovna called in the morning, saying Grandpa’s medicine had run out and she “felt pressure in her chest”. The drive took an hour and a half. Anna Leonidovna met them at the door. At sixty-three she looked amazing: hair done, nails, a dainty silk scarf at her neck. —Oh, you made it, — she held out her cheek for a kiss. — Kristina, have you put on weight? Or is it just the blouse? —Hello, Anna Leonidovna. The blouse is just loose, — Kristina swallowed the jab as always. They went inside; the mother-in-law’s parents were dozing in front of the telly. Kristina greeted them, but they just nodded. —Tea? — asked Anna Leonidovna, heading to the kitchen. — I’ve got biscuits, a bit stale… I haven’t been shopping, my legs ache. —We brought cake, — Denis put the box on the table. — Mum, let’s talk. About the flat… Anna Leonidovna perked up. —Yes, yes, Denis. I’m nearly done here; the air is nice, nature, my parents need care. But in winter? It’s deathly boring. Meanwhile, the flat is standing empty, other people are in it, ruining everything. Breaks my heart! —Mum, your tenants are decent, a family, — Denis interjected. —Decent! — she snorted. — Last time I checked, the curtain was crooked. And it smelled… not right. So why are you stuck in the sticks? Move in with me. There’s plenty of room. Kristina glanced at her husband. —Anna Leonidovna, where do you plan to live? — she asked directly. Her mother-in-law raised her eyebrows in surprise. —Where? Here, of course. With my parents. Well, maybe sometimes I’ll come to check on things, have blood tests at my clinic. I know all the doctors at our surgery. —How often is “sometimes”? — Kristina clarified. —Oh, maybe a couple of times a week. Or for a week, if the weather’s bad. I’ve got my room there, my bedroom. Don’t put the kids in it, they can have the big room. But my bedroom must stay as it is. Just in case. Kristina bristled. —So, you’re offering us the three-bed, but want us to keep one room just for you? So we’d live with the kids in two? —Why lock it? — Anna Leonidovna looked baffled. — Use it, just don’t move my things. Or the china cabinet. The crystal stays. And the books. Denis, remember? Don’t touch the library! Denis shifted awkwardly. —Mum, if we do move in, we’ll need to sort things out – make a kids’ room, set up beds… —Why beds? There’s a great sofa, still good! You dad bought it. No need to spend money! Kristina stood. —Denis, can we speak outside for a minute? She stepped onto the porch, not waiting for her husband. He followed, casting anxious glances at the door. —Did you hear that? — Kristina hissed. — “Don’t touch the sofa”, “my room”, “I’ll visit for a week”. Do you get what that means? —Kristin, she’s just afraid of change… —No, Denis! We’d just be unpaid caretakers! Can’t even move a cupboard! She’ll drop in any time, use her key, and tell me how to hang curtains, boil soup and make beds! —But it’s closer for work… — he tried weakly. —I don’t care! I’d rather sit in traffic for two hours and come home to a place that’s mine, where I make the rules. Denis was silent, looking at his shoes. He understood. Of course he understood. The easy way out had clouded his thinking. —And another thing, — Kristina crossed her arms. — Remember the ‘flat swap’? She let us down then because “being posh” was more important. Now she’s bored. She just wants company — us nearby, someone to nag. Just then, Anna Leonidovna appeared in the doorway. —What are you whispering about out here? Kristina turned to her. —We won’t put you out. We’re not moving. —Nonsense, — her mother-in-law huffed. — Denis, why are you letting your wife decide everything? Denis raised his head. —Mum, Kristina’s right, — he said, firmly. — We’re not moving. We have our own home. Anna Leonidovna pursed her lips. She knew she’d lost, but wouldn’t admit it. —Suit yourselves. I was only trying to help. Go on, keep wasting your lives in traffic jams. Just don’t complain later. —We won’t, — Denis promised. — Shall we head off, Mum? Do you need any more medicine or anything? —I need nothing from you, — she said, turning on her heel and slamming the door. They drove back in silence. By then, traffic at the city entrance had cleared, but there was still a red spot on the sat-nav near their area. —Are you mad? — Kristina asked as they stopped at the lights. Denis shook his head. —No. I pictured Artyom jumping on Dad’s old sofa and Mum having a heart attack. You’re right. It was a bad idea. —I don’t mind helping, Denis, — she said softly, patting his knee. — We’ll bring food, medicine. Get a carer if it gets hard. But we’re living separately. Distance is key to a good relationship. —Especially with my mum, — he said, wryly. *** Of course, Anna Leonidovna held a grudge against her daughter-in-law and son. Turns out she had already evicted the tenants, certain her son and his wife would move in. She badgered Denis for nearly a month. But Denis held firm—turns out, saying “no” isn’t that hard when it’s really needed.

Saturday, 25th September Today, once again, I found myself contemplating the tangled web that is my relationship

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For about a year, my son had been living with Kate, but we’d never met her parents—and that struck me as odd, so I decided to look into it I’ve always tried to raise my son to respect women above all—his grandmother, his mother, his wife, his daughter. In my view, that’s the best trait a man can have: respect for women. My husband and I gave our son an excellent upbringing and education, equipping him with everything he needs to navigate life with ease. We didn’t want to give him too many handouts, but we did buy him a two-bedroom flat. He worked to support himself, but affording his own place was out of reach. We didn’t hand over the flat right away—in fact, we didn’t even tell him about the purchase. Why? Our son had moved in with his girlfriend. For about a year, he had been living with Kate, but we had never met her parents, which I found peculiar. Later, I discovered that Kate’s mother was a former neighbour of a friend of mine, who told me something that made me uneasy. Apparently, Kate’s mother had thrown her husband out when he started earning less, and the absurdity only escalated from there. She began seeing a married but wealthy man. Kate’s grandmother, just like her daughter, had also had a relationship with a married man. She even used to force both her daughter and granddaughter to help out at his country cottage. That’s why my son had already found himself tangled in more than one affair with his future mother-in-law. But what worries me most in this story is how both Kate’s mother and grandmother are turning her against her father. The girl clearly loves her father, but because of these two women, their relationship is at risk. And to top it all off, Kate has decided to drop out of university because she believes a man should provide for the family. I do agree with that philosophy, and I’ve prepared my son for it, but heaven forbid they ever go through hard times. Where is the safety net? How will she support her husband if disaster strikes? By the way, I’ve re-registered the flat in my own name, because as the saying goes, I know I’ve raised a “deer”—a soft-hearted chap. Yes, anything acquired before marriage isn’t split after a divorce, but Kate is a clever woman and could easily see my “gentleman” out the door with only his socks.

It must be nearly a decade past now, but I still recall the uneasiness I felt when my son was living