Wanda Miranda, Author at Trending Link

What If She Isn’t Really My Daughter? I Need a DNA Test Nikita couldn’t shake off a nagging suspicion as he watched his wife, Olivia, cooing over their newborn daughter. He seriously doubted the baby was his. Just last year, Nikita had to go away for a month-long business trip. A couple of weeks after he returned, Olivia shared what she thought was wonderful news: they were expecting a baby. At first, Nikita was thrilled. But then Olivia’s sister visited and casually dropped a story about having had a DNA test done for her own son—just to reassure her partner about paternity. “Liv, let’s do a DNA test, too. Just for peace of mind,” Nikita suggested. His wife’s reaction was immediate—a raging argument broke out, with things flying and the neighbours banging on the walls. “What’s the big deal?” Nikita insisted, now more convinced than ever of his suspicions. “I just want to be sure, that’s all.” “How could you even think that?” Olivia shouted, tossing another pillow his way. “Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” “I was away for a month,” Nikita retorted with a crooked smile. “How do I know what happened here while I was gone? Let’s do the test—I’ll see the result and never bring it up again. So, when are we going? We can use your sister’s clinic.” “In your next life,” Olivia spat, slamming the door as she left for the nursery. *************************************************** “You know,” Nikita complained to his mother over coffee, “I’m not asking for anything extraordinary. So why is she so upset?” “She must have a guilty conscience,” his mum, Anne Peterson, replied. “Mark my words, she had that daughter with someone else and is scared you’ll find out. Besides,” she hesitated, “when you were away, there was something that happened…” “What was it?” Nikita’s interest was piqued. “I try not to meddle, but I came over to discuss your father’s birthday. She took forever to answer the door—even though I knew she was home. When she finally opened up, she looked disheveled. And there were men’s shoes in the hallway.” “What did she say?” Nikita demanded, outraged. “Said it was a burst pipe,” his mother rolled her eyes. “Could’ve come up with something better, really.” “Why didn’t you tell me before?” “I never got inside the flat, so there’s no proof,” she retorted. “Didn’t want to cause trouble unnecessarily.” “You should have!” Nikita exclaimed, nearly spilling his coffee. “Really should have! So what now?” “Make sure you do the DNA test,” Anne said, hiding a smirk. She’d never liked Olivia. “Or do it yourself. You’re the father, you have the right.” ************************************************ “You can relax,” Nikita dropped the now-unnecessary envelope delivered by courier. “Ari is my daughter. Like I promised, I’ll never bring it up again.” “I don’t get it,” Olivia said, eyeing the opened envelope with suspicion. “Did you do that damned test without asking me?” “Yeah,” Nikita replied casually. “Stopped by the clinic while I was out with our daughter. Didn’t take long. She’s mine, so it’s all good.” “There is a problem,” she said quietly. “And it’s a shame you can’t see it.” The next morning, Nikita left for work as usual. That evening, he came home to an empty flat. His wife and daughter were gone, and all Olivia’s belongings with them. Only a handwritten note sat on the coffee table: “Your lack of trust has destroyed everything between us. I refuse to live with a traitor, and I’m filing for divorce. I don’t want anything from you—no flat, no alimony. I just want you out of our lives.” Nikita was furious. How dare Olivia leave him—and take his daughter with her! He grabbed his phone and started calling around. A man answered, listened silently to Nikita’s outburst, and asked him not to call again. “I knew she was cheating on me!” Nikita fumed. “She couldn’t wait to run to some other man! Good riddance!” He never considered that Olivia might have gone to her parents’, and it was her brother who answered, simply protecting his sister who had just gotten Ari to sleep. Nikita had made up his mind. The divorce was quick and mutual. Little Ari stayed with her mother and never saw her biological father again…

What if she isn’t my daughter? I need a DNA test. Michael gazed thoughtfully at his wife, Emma

A New Family Matters More Than the Old One

Mum, this is Alice, my fiancée, declared Peter as soon as he walked through the door, gently holding

Couldn’t Hold Out Any Longer “I’m filing for divorce,” Vera said calmly as she handed her husband a cup of tea. “Actually, I already have.” She said it like it was nothing out of the ordinary, almost as if she were announcing, “chicken with veg for dinner.” “May I ask, why the— Oh, never mind, not in front of the kids,” Arthur lowered his voice when he saw their two anxious faces. “What did I do wrong? Not to mention, the boys need a father.” “You think I won’t find them another one?” Vera rolled her eyes with a dramatic smirk. “What did you do wrong? Everything! I hoped life with you would be a tranquil lake, but it’s more like a raging river.” “Alright boys, finished eating?” Not wanting to continue this discussion in front of the kids, Arthur sent them off to play. “And no eavesdropping!” he shouted after them, knowing his sons all too well. “Now, where were we?” Vera pursed her lips with annoyance. Even now, he was trying to call the shots! Playing the perfect father… “I’m done living like this. I hate spending eight hours a day at work, smiling at colleagues, grovelling to clients… I want to sleep till noon, shop at posh boutiques, go to beauty salons. And you can’t give me that. I gave you the best ten years of my life!” “Can we spare the drama?” Arthur interrupted dryly. “Wasn’t it you, ten years ago, who did everything possible to marry me? I wasn’t exactly desperate to get wed.” “Mistakes happen.” The divorce went through quickly and quietly. Arthur, not without reservations, agreed the boys would stay with their mother but would spend every weekend and holiday with him. Vera happily agreed. Six months later, Arthur introduced the boys to his new wife. Smiling, full-of-life Lucy quickly won their hearts, and soon the boys looked forward to their weekends, much to Vera’s annoyance. What infuriated her even more was that Arthur inherited a sizeable fortune from a distant uncle, bought a large house in the countryside, and was living the good life. He hadn’t quit his job, still paid modest child support—preferring to clothe and equip his sons himself, even micromanaging the child support payments! Why on earth hadn’t she held out just six more months? If only Vera had known… Oh, how differently things would have turned out! But perhaps all isn’t lost? ***** “How about a cuppa? Like the good old days,” Vera smiled suggestively, twirling her long hair. Her short dress showed off her best features, and the carefully applied makeup took years off her face. She’d put in the effort—she looked flawless! “I haven’t got time,” Arthur replied, barely glancing at his ex-wife. “Are the boys ready?” “They’re still looking for something, they’ll be another ten minutes at least, I’m sure,” Vera said, trying again. “Maybe we could celebrate New Year’s together? Nick and Josh spent ages decorating the tree.” “We agreed at court—holidays are mine. This year, we’re off to our favourite snowy village—skiing, sledging, Lucy’s arranged everything.” “But… That’s a family holiday…” “And we’ll celebrate—as a family. If you complain, I’ll go for full custody.” As the door shut behind Arthur and their joyful boys, Vera shattered the expensive set of cups from their wedding in a rage. Lucy—always Lucy! Pretending to be delighted to see the boys, but surely counting down the minutes until they left? Vera, of all people, knew how boisterous her sons could be. But that was an idea… Vera smiled slyly. It wasn’t over yet. Soon all of Arthur’s money would be in her sole possession… ***** “And what’s this?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow at the suitcases by the door. “What do you think? The boys’ things,” Vera nudged a bulging suitcase. “You’ve sorted your personal life, so now it’s my turn. Not every man will take on someone else’s kids, so it’s time the boys lived with you. I’ve told social services, just need to make it official. That’s your job, though—I’m off for a well-earned getaway with a promising new chap.” Leaving Arthur speechless, Vera marched toward her waiting car. How long would that “perfect” Lucy last, she wondered—one week? Two? Surely two weeks, max. Arthur would have to choose between his kids and his new wife. He’d pick his sons and come running back to her. With all the money in tow… Two weeks passed. A month. Two. No call demanding he take the boys back. Judging by the boys’ stories, Lucy hadn’t even raised her voice! How could that be? Had these two little terrors suddenly become angels? Impossible! “So, how are the boys? Not too much trouble?” Vera couldn’t contain herself and rang her ex-husband. “They’re wonderful, well-behaved, helpful,” Arthur’s tone warmed instantly at the mention of the boys. “Couldn’t ask for better sons.” “Really?” Vera was incredulous. “With me, they were always up to mischief…” “That’s because children need attention,” Arthur replied dismissively. “But you were always glued to your phone. Also, just so you’re aware—we’re moving. I’ll bring the boys to see you during the holidays if you want.” “But… They’re my children, too!” “You signed all rights over to me,” he laughed openly. “Some mother you are!” Vera was left tearing her hair out. The husband (or rather, the money) not returned. The new lover not working out. And now even her children would be far away. Not that she’d miss them much—she rather liked having all her free time to herself. After ten years of patience, to drop out of the race just six months before the finish line… So unfair…

Didnt Have the Patience Im filing for divorce, Sarah said calmly as she handed her husband his mug of tea.

The Default Break-Up

The Default Break Itll be alright, Will whispered, trying hard to sound confident as he took a steadying

There Will Be No Forgiveness – Have you ever thought about finding your mother? The question came so unexpectedly that Vicky flinched. She was just spreading documents from work out on the kitchen table – a wobbly pile she steadied with her hand. Now she froze, slowly let go, and looked up at Alex. Genuine surprise flickered in her eyes: Where had he even got that idea? Why would she ever search for the woman who, with one careless move, had destroyed almost her entire future? – Of course not, – Vicky replied, keeping her voice steady. – What a ridiculous idea. Why would I want to do that? Alex looked a little embarrassed. He ran a hand through his hair, as if gathering his thoughts, then tried a tense smile, clearly regretting his question. – Well, – he began, picking his words. – I often hear that children from care or foster homes dream of finding their biological parents. So I thought… If you ever wanted to, I’d help. Really. Vicky shook her head. A tight feeling clamped her chest, as if someone invisible was squeezing her ribs. She took a deep breath, trying to quell a sudden surge of irritation, and looked at Alex again. – Thanks for the offer, but no, – she said firmly, her voice a little louder. – I wouldn’t seek her out for anything! That woman hasn’t existed for me in years. I’ll never forgive her! Yes, it sounded harsh, but what choice did she have? Otherwise she’d have to revisit so many painful memories and pour her soul out to her fiancé. No. She loved him, really loved him, but some things you just don’t want to share. With anyone. Not even with the closest person. So she turned back to her paperwork, busying herself in silence. Alex frowned, but didn’t argue. He was clearly uncomfortable with Vicky’s biting response. Deep down, he couldn’t grasp her point of view. For him, a mother was nearly sacred – no matter if she’d raised him or not. The very fact that she carried a child for nine months, brought them into the world, placed her almost on a pedestal in his eyes. He truly believed in an unbreakable bond between mother and child, something neither time nor circumstances could destroy. Vicky, on the contrary, rejected that belief outright. To her, it couldn’t be more clear: how could you long for someone who had been so cruel to you? Her so-called “mum” hadn’t just left her in a care home – it was far, far worse… Years ago, as a teenager, Vicky had worked up the courage to ask the question that had haunted her for so long. She went to Mrs Taylor, the head of the children’s home, a strict but fair lady who all the kids respected. – Why am I here? – Vicky asked quietly but firmly. – My mum… did she die? Or did they take me away from her? Something serious must’ve happened, mustn’t it? Mrs Taylor froze, her hand hovering over her pile of papers. She paused, then put the files to one side, weighing her words. Finally she sighed and motioned for Vicky to sit. Nerves knotted inside Vicky as she perched on the chair, fingers clutching the edge. She already sensed the truth about to shatter her understanding of her own past. – She lost her parental rights and was prosecuted, – Mrs Taylor began carefully, her eyes steady but troubled. The truth was bitter, the kind plenty would have softened or left untold, but the head of the home had decided Vicky deserved it all – no matter how hard. She paused, then continued: – You were brought here at four and a half. Someone saw you – a tiny child, alone on the street. Later, we learnt a woman left you sitting on a bench at the station, then leapt onto a train and left you behind. It was autumn – cold, damp – and you only had a thin coat and wellies. After hours outside, you ended up in hospital, very poorly. Vicky sat statue-still, fists clenched, though her face remained impassive. Only her eyes grew darker. – Did they find her? What did she say? – Vicky asked, barely above a whisper. – They did, and she was sentenced, – Mrs Taylor said grimly. – Her explanation? She didn’t have any money and a job had come up – but the employer wouldn’t allow children on the premises, and you were in the way. So she just decided it would be easier – leave you behind and start her life afresh. Vicky’s fists slowly unclenched. She stared ahead, seeing nothing, lost in that autumn morning she couldn’t even remember. – I see… – she finally said, her voice devoid of life. Then she met Mrs Taylor’s gaze. – Thank you for telling me the truth. Right then and there, Vicky decided, once and for all: she would never go searching for her mother. Never. Even the stray half-thought, sparked by curiosity, just to ask “why?” – vanished forever. To leave a child on the street… How could anyone do that? Did the woman who gave her life possess no conscience or compassion? Anything could have happened to a four-year-old left alone… “That’s not the act of a human being, but an animal,” thought Vicky, the sting of betrayal burning inside. She tried, really did try, to find even the weakest excuse – maybe her mother was desperate, maybe there really was no other way, maybe she thought it was best for Vicky… But none of those excuses ever softened the pain or recast the abandonment as anything but cold-blooded cruelty. It was a deliberate, ruthless decision to get rid of her, as if she were an unwanted object. The more Vicky replayed it all, the more unshakable her resolve became. No. She would not look for this woman. Would not seek answers. Would not even try to understand. Nothing could change what had been done – and forgiveness was simply beyond her. And with that, she felt an odd sense of freedom – almost physical release… ******************** – I’ve got a surprise for you! – Alex practically bounced in the hallway, his face alight with excitement, like he’d just won the lottery. – You’re going to love it! Come on! We can’t keep them waiting! Vicky paused in the doorway, lukewarm tea in her hand. What on earth had Alex planned? And why, despite his cheerfulness, did she feel so anxious? A taut thread of worry seemed stretched tight inside her. – Where are we going? – she tried to keep her voice calm. – Just wait! – Alex’s grin widened as he took her hand and towed her to the door. – Trust me. It’s worth it. Vicky let herself be led, her unease growing. All the way to the park she tried to guess – maybe he’d bought concert tickets, or arranged a meeting with someone from her past? Nothing seemed plausible. Entering the park, she saw a woman on a bench near the path. Plain but neat – dark coat, scarf, small handbag on her lap. Something about the face nudged at Vicky’s memory, but she couldn’t place it. Alex’s aunt? A work colleague? Alex strode confidently ahead, Vicky at his side, the puzzle still unsolved, until they stopped beside the woman. She looked up and smiled slightly, and suddenly Vicky knew – the resemblance, older by thirty-odd years, was uncanny. – Vicky, – Alex announced, like he was about to cut a ceremonial ribbon, – after much searching, I found your mum. Aren’t you thrilled? Vicky froze. How dare he? She had made herself perfectly clear – she never wanted to even speak of that woman! – Darling! Look at you, all grown up and beautiful! – the woman rushed at her, arms open for a hug, voice trembling with emotion. But Vicky drew back, instinctively widening the gap. Her face set; her gaze was granite. – It’s me, your mum! – the woman persisted, ignoring or missing Vicky’s icy reception. – I’ve searched for you for so long! I’ve brooded and worried all these years… – It wasn’t easy! – Alex interjected, positively glowing. – I had to call in all sorts of favours, make enquiries… but I did it, and I’m glad! His words were cut short by a sharp slap. Vicky’s hand moved on its own, tears of anger and hurt in her eyes as she glared, dumbfounded, at her fiancé. After everything she’d told him about her past, he still brought this woman here. “Doesn’t matter what she’s done, she’s your mother” – the words echoed and twisted the knife. – What the hell are you doing? – Alex spluttered, holding his cheek. – I did all this for you! I wanted to help, to do something good… Vicky was silent, boiling with pain and betrayal. The one person she’d trusted most had yanked open her worst wounds, all in the name of “good intentions.” She turned away, hand still shaking. The woman hovered uncertainly, wanting to speak, but falling silent at the look on Vicky’s face. – I didn’t ask you to find her, – Vicky said quietly. Her words were calm, though everything inside quivered. – I made it absolutely clear this is not what I want. And you still went ahead! Alex dropped his hand, but found nothing to say. He stood motionless, searching Vicky’s face for the smallest sign she might forgive him, but seeing only bitter resolve. – I told you: I don’t even want to hear about that woman! – Vicky’s voice shook. She stared at Alex, the pain in her eyes raw and old. – That “mother” left me at a railway station at four. Alone! In a thin coat! Do you really think I could ever forgive that? Alex went pale, but stood his ground. – She’s still your mother! That’s all that matters! – he insisted. The other woman took a timid step closer, her voice apologetic, like she wasn’t quite convinced by what she said: – You were always poorly, I never had the money for medicine… This was a chance to work! I’d have come back for you, after I got back on my feet… Vicky turned to her, voice as cold as steel. – Come back from where? The graveyard? – she bit out, refusing to hold back another second. – You could’ve told social services you weren’t coping. You could have left me at the hospital. But not on the bloody street! Not alone, in the cold! Alex, desperate for calm, tried to touch Vicky’s hand, she recoiled. – The past is the past. You need to live for the present, – he pressed on, like trying to convince himself. – You always said you wanted family at your wedding. Your dream’s come true… Vicky fixed him with a look so full of disappointment he stepped back in shock. – I’ve invited Mrs Taylor, the children’s home head, and Mrs Rowe, my carer – they are my true family, – she said quietly but firmly. – They were there for me, they cared for me! They’re the ones I consider real family! She wrenched her hand free, turned, and fled down the path, away from the park and from the man she had loved most. Her heart pounded with a storm of pain and betrayal. She’d never hidden anything from him – she’d told him every brutal truth about her childhood, her years in care, her first hopes her mum might come back. He’d nodded in sympathy. And still, he’d tracked that woman down, brought her here – “She’s your mother, that’s all that matters.” “Never!” Vicky swore inwardly. She’d never accept that woman. Never pretend none of it had happened. She didn’t even go back to Alex’s flat for her things – mercifully little there. Their real move had been due after the wedding; almost everything remained in her council bedsit. All she wanted now was to get far, far away. Her phone buzzed constantly – Alex calling and calling. She stared at the screen, saw his name, but let it ring. She didn’t trust herself not to explode, to say something she’d regret. Best to ride out the first storm of hurt in silence. He kept trying. Voice messages flew in, sharp and angry: – Vicky, you’re behaving like a child! I tried to do the right thing, and you… you’re just being ungrateful! This is a tantrum, pure and simple! Then even harsher: – I’ve made my decision. She’s coming to the wedding. End of. We’ll have family bonds, and our children will call her ‘Grandma.’ That’s normal, that’s right! Standing at the bus stop, listening, Vicky felt her resolve tighten. She turned the phone to silent, placed it in her pocket, and gazed at the sky. Her world had just cracked down the centre, and she had no idea how to patch it. Staring at Alex’s last messages, their ultimatum rang in her ears. “She will be at the wedding. End of.” No way back. She typed, brief and unequivocal: “The wedding’s off. I don’t want to see either of you ever again.” Sent. She watched for the tick, then put the phone down. Immediately the screen lit up – Alex calling. She didn’t move. More messages came, but she didn’t read them. Instead, she opened her contacts, found her ex-fiancé’s number, and blocked him. Now the phone was silent – no calls, no messages, no frantic attempts to “make things right.” Peace, at last, wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Maybe she’d regret it one day. Maybe. But right now, this was her only possible step. Slowly, the storm inside eased, leaving a calm, exhausted clarity. It was the right thing to do. She had no future with someone who could betray her like that… There Will Be No Forgiveness

There Will Be No Forgiveness Have you ever thought about finding your mum? The question was so unexpected

Blood Ties “Lena, you won’t believe it! Matvey and I have decided—we’re going back to Turkey next year!” My stepdad was practically glowing with excitement. “He says he wants that same hotel overlooking the sea again. What can I do? Anything for my own son.” His words slipped out, clarifying without meaning to: “own” son. “I’m happy for you,” Lena replied, thinking back to how nice things had been before Matvey came along. “‘Own son’… You always told me we’re family, that it doesn’t matter whether we’re related by blood or not.” He had said it before. That it didn’t matter whether she was his biological daughter or not. “There you go again… You know I love you like my own daughter, Lena, that’s not up for debate. But Matvey…” He’d just confirmed it without realising. “Matvey is your son. I’m just an acquaintance now?” “Lena, what are you talking about? I’ve said you’re like family to me!” “Like family… Did you ever take me to the seaside? In all these fifteen years you’ve called yourself my father?” He hadn’t. Arthur always insisted there was no difference between her and Matvey, but Lena knew—he did so much more for Matvey. The difference was huge. “I couldn’t, Lena. You know money was always tighter back then. You’re not a child anymore—you know what two weeks in a five-star hotel costs. Expensive.” “I get it,” Lena nodded. “It’s too costly to bring me along. And yet Matvey, who you’ve only known for six months, you want to buy him a flat on mortgage so he’ll have somewhere to bring his future wife? That doesn’t seem expensive, since he’s your son?” “I’m not buying any flat. Who told you that?” “People who care.” “Tell those people not to spread rumours.” Lena felt slightly revived. “Honestly—you’re not buying it?” “Of course not. Oh, by the way! Guess where we’re going Saturday?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Go-karting! He did some racing back at uni, and I’m just tagging along.” “Go-karting,” Lena echoed. “Sounds exciting.” “Oh, it is!” “Can I come with you?” The words slipped out before she could stop herself. Arthur, clearly not wanting her to join, blurted: “Uh, Lena… You’d be bored there. Really. It’s more of a men’s thing. Matvey and I, we’ll talk about, you know, father-son stuff.” How that hurt… “So, it’s interesting for you, but not for me?” “It’s not quite like that…” Arthur squirmed. “We just haven’t seen each other for years and want to catch up. Just the two of us. Do you understand?” She understood. That word—“understand”—was their new family code for replacing one with another. She was meant to understand: that blood would always come before chosen family. That her place was outside the fence, not inside. Matvey was objectively great. Raised without a father because his mum kept Arthur in the dark, yet he managed to succeed at everything. Clever, handsome, kind. “Dad, I fixed the dog kennels at the shelter.” “Dad, I graduated with first class honours.” “Dad, I’ve repaired your phone.” He wasn’t just a son—he was the perfect son. Later, after Arthur left, Lena looked through old photos… Arthur and her mother’s wedding (her mum gone five years now, leaving Lena and Arthur alone). There they were at the allotment… there was Lena, finishing school… Nothing would ever be the same. *** “Lena, you awake? I’ve got a question. Urgent.” Her stepdad showed up at 8am the next morning. “What’s so urgent?” Lena swept her fringe back with a hairband and switched on the coffee machine. “It’s about the flat for Matvey.” “So it’s true?” she breathed. “Sorry, yes—it’s true.” “So you lied to me.” “I just didn’t want to upset you. But I need advice! I think I need to hurry. He’ll want to get married, sooner or later. He needs his own place while he’s still young. You should have seen my life at his age…” “Get a mortgage then,” Lena muttered, not wanting to discuss buying Matvey a flat. Matvey had landed on his feet. “Yeah, I know. But you know my credit history… Matvey deserves some help. He’s never had a father, but now I can do this for him.” “So what do you want from me?” “Here’s the thing. I have two hundred thousand pounds. That’s enough for the deposit. But the bank won’t lend to me—they’ll give you a loan, though, your record’s spotless. We’ll put it in your name. I’ll make all the payments, I promise.” The illusion that “there’s no difference between you and Matvey” shattered completely. There was a difference. He’d never throw Matvey onto the mortgage front line. “So Matvey gets the flat, and I get the debt? Is that it?” Arthur shook his head, as if offended—like it was Lena’s idea. “Of course not! I’ll pay everything. I’m not asking you to fork out. I just need the mortgage in your name. Think about it…” “You know, Arthur, I’m not thinking about the loan. I’m thinking about how you don’t see me as your daughter any more. You’ve got a son now. You’ve known him six months and me fifteen years, but only the blood relation matters, right?” “Not true!” Arthur flared. “I love you equally!” “No. Not equally.” “Lena, that’s not fair! Matvey’s my flesh and blood…” Curtain. She wasn’t his daughter any more—just conveniently “like family,” until something realer came along. “Fine,” Lena managed politely. “I can’t help, Arthur. I’ll need a mortgage for myself someday. I won’t get approved for a second one.” Arthur seemed to realise then that she, too, was without a home. “Oh, right, you’ll need one as well…” He checked his watch. “But right now, before you settle down, you could help me out. I already have the deposit. It’s just for a couple of years.” “No. I’m not putting anything in my name for you.” She didn’t expect him to understand. “Alright,” he said at last. “If you can’t help me as a daughter, that’s that. I’ll sort it myself.” Maybe he’d once considered her his daughter. It didn’t matter now. She only saw Arthur in old photographs. One evening, scrolling through her feed, she saw it. A photo at the airport: Arthur and Matvey. Both in pale jackets. Arthur’s arm around Matvey’s shoulder; the caption: “Off to Dubai with Dad. Family is everything.” Family. Lena put down her phone. She remembered a moment from childhood, well before her mother married Arthur. She was five. They were poor, and her favourite doll from her grandmother had broken. She cried, but her biological father just said, “Lena, don’t cry over silly things. Don’t bother me!” You never could bother him: the bottle was always more interesting. Lena realised she’d never really had a father. She’d just thought Arthur could replace him… Soon after, Arthur tried to persuade her again. “Lena, I think we need to address your lack of trust…” “What lack of trust, Arthur? I said no.” “You just don’t understand. Matvey—he never knew me. He needs a home. He’s a grown man. You don’t even have to do anything, just be there, I guarantee you won’t pay a penny.” “Who’s going to make up for gaps in my life…” This time, Arthur grew angry. “Lena, enough! I don’t want a row. I really do love you! But listen—Matvey is my real family now. When you have your own kids, you’ll get it. Yes, I love you both differently, but it doesn’t mean you’re not important.” “I am. As a resource.” “Lena, please! You’re exaggerating.” “You dropped me for him in six months, Arthur,” Lena replied. “I’m not asking you to choose. You already have. You said it yourself: Matvey is your real son. I never was.” Six months passed. Arthur never called. Not once. One day, scrolling that same news feed, she spotted another photo. Arthur and Matvey. Posing in the mountains, Arthur decked out in trendy ski gear. Caption: “Teaching Dad to snowboard! He’s a bit old, but anything’s possible with your son!” Lena stared at the image for a long time. She reached for her laptop to finish her report when a message flashed on her phone. An unknown number. “Hi, Lena. It’s Matvey. Dad gave me your number, but didn’t feel right calling you himself. He wanted to say he’s sorted the flat and didn’t need your help in the end—but he’s worried about you. He really wants you to come visit for the bank holiday. He can’t say why, but he’s asking.” She started to reply, erasing and rewriting. “Hi, Matvey. Tell Arthur I’m really glad he’s doing well. I think about him too. But I won’t come. I have other plans for the bank holiday. I’m going to the seaside.” She chose not to mention she’d bought her own ticket—and that it was Brighton, not Turkey. And she wasn’t going with her father, but with a friend. Lena pressed “send”. And she realised she could find happiness without him, too.

Native Son Emma, you wont believe it! Matthew and I have made plans to fly to Spain next year!

Twelve Years Later: A Mother’s Heartbreaking Plea on Live TV – The Real Story Behind Catherine’s Desperate Search for Her Estranged Son, Family Betrayal, and Long-Buried Secrets That Changed Their Lives Forever

Twelve Years Later Im begging you, please, help me find my son! the womans voice quivered on the edge of tears.

Blood Ties “Lena, you won’t believe it! Matvey and I have decided—we’re going back to Turkey next year!” My stepdad was practically glowing with excitement. “He says he wants that same hotel overlooking the sea again. What can I do? Anything for my own son.” His words slipped out, clarifying without meaning to: “own” son. “I’m happy for you,” Lena replied, thinking back to how nice things had been before Matvey came along. “‘Own son’… You always told me we’re family, that it doesn’t matter whether we’re related by blood or not.” He had said it before. That it didn’t matter whether she was his biological daughter or not. “There you go again… You know I love you like my own daughter, Lena, that’s not up for debate. But Matvey…” He’d just confirmed it without realising. “Matvey is your son. I’m just an acquaintance now?” “Lena, what are you talking about? I’ve said you’re like family to me!” “Like family… Did you ever take me to the seaside? In all these fifteen years you’ve called yourself my father?” He hadn’t. Arthur always insisted there was no difference between her and Matvey, but Lena knew—he did so much more for Matvey. The difference was huge. “I couldn’t, Lena. You know money was always tighter back then. You’re not a child anymore—you know what two weeks in a five-star hotel costs. Expensive.” “I get it,” Lena nodded. “It’s too costly to bring me along. And yet Matvey, who you’ve only known for six months, you want to buy him a flat on mortgage so he’ll have somewhere to bring his future wife? That doesn’t seem expensive, since he’s your son?” “I’m not buying any flat. Who told you that?” “People who care.” “Tell those people not to spread rumours.” Lena felt slightly revived. “Honestly—you’re not buying it?” “Of course not. Oh, by the way! Guess where we’re going Saturday?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Go-karting! He did some racing back at uni, and I’m just tagging along.” “Go-karting,” Lena echoed. “Sounds exciting.” “Oh, it is!” “Can I come with you?” The words slipped out before she could stop herself. Arthur, clearly not wanting her to join, blurted: “Uh, Lena… You’d be bored there. Really. It’s more of a men’s thing. Matvey and I, we’ll talk about, you know, father-son stuff.” How that hurt… “So, it’s interesting for you, but not for me?” “It’s not quite like that…” Arthur squirmed. “We just haven’t seen each other for years and want to catch up. Just the two of us. Do you understand?” She understood. That word—“understand”—was their new family code for replacing one with another. She was meant to understand: that blood would always come before chosen family. That her place was outside the fence, not inside. Matvey was objectively great. Raised without a father because his mum kept Arthur in the dark, yet he managed to succeed at everything. Clever, handsome, kind. “Dad, I fixed the dog kennels at the shelter.” “Dad, I graduated with first class honours.” “Dad, I’ve repaired your phone.” He wasn’t just a son—he was the perfect son. Later, after Arthur left, Lena looked through old photos… Arthur and her mother’s wedding (her mum gone five years now, leaving Lena and Arthur alone). There they were at the allotment… there was Lena, finishing school… Nothing would ever be the same. *** “Lena, you awake? I’ve got a question. Urgent.” Her stepdad showed up at 8am the next morning. “What’s so urgent?” Lena swept her fringe back with a hairband and switched on the coffee machine. “It’s about the flat for Matvey.” “So it’s true?” she breathed. “Sorry, yes—it’s true.” “So you lied to me.” “I just didn’t want to upset you. But I need advice! I think I need to hurry. He’ll want to get married, sooner or later. He needs his own place while he’s still young. You should have seen my life at his age…” “Get a mortgage then,” Lena muttered, not wanting to discuss buying Matvey a flat. Matvey had landed on his feet. “Yeah, I know. But you know my credit history… Matvey deserves some help. He’s never had a father, but now I can do this for him.” “So what do you want from me?” “Here’s the thing. I have two hundred thousand pounds. That’s enough for the deposit. But the bank won’t lend to me—they’ll give you a loan, though, your record’s spotless. We’ll put it in your name. I’ll make all the payments, I promise.” The illusion that “there’s no difference between you and Matvey” shattered completely. There was a difference. He’d never throw Matvey onto the mortgage front line. “So Matvey gets the flat, and I get the debt? Is that it?” Arthur shook his head, as if offended—like it was Lena’s idea. “Of course not! I’ll pay everything. I’m not asking you to fork out. I just need the mortgage in your name. Think about it…” “You know, Arthur, I’m not thinking about the loan. I’m thinking about how you don’t see me as your daughter any more. You’ve got a son now. You’ve known him six months and me fifteen years, but only the blood relation matters, right?” “Not true!” Arthur flared. “I love you equally!” “No. Not equally.” “Lena, that’s not fair! Matvey’s my flesh and blood…” Curtain. She wasn’t his daughter any more—just conveniently “like family,” until something realer came along. “Fine,” Lena managed politely. “I can’t help, Arthur. I’ll need a mortgage for myself someday. I won’t get approved for a second one.” Arthur seemed to realise then that she, too, was without a home. “Oh, right, you’ll need one as well…” He checked his watch. “But right now, before you settle down, you could help me out. I already have the deposit. It’s just for a couple of years.” “No. I’m not putting anything in my name for you.” She didn’t expect him to understand. “Alright,” he said at last. “If you can’t help me as a daughter, that’s that. I’ll sort it myself.” Maybe he’d once considered her his daughter. It didn’t matter now. She only saw Arthur in old photographs. One evening, scrolling through her feed, she saw it. A photo at the airport: Arthur and Matvey. Both in pale jackets. Arthur’s arm around Matvey’s shoulder; the caption: “Off to Dubai with Dad. Family is everything.” Family. Lena put down her phone. She remembered a moment from childhood, well before her mother married Arthur. She was five. They were poor, and her favourite doll from her grandmother had broken. She cried, but her biological father just said, “Lena, don’t cry over silly things. Don’t bother me!” You never could bother him: the bottle was always more interesting. Lena realised she’d never really had a father. She’d just thought Arthur could replace him… Soon after, Arthur tried to persuade her again. “Lena, I think we need to address your lack of trust…” “What lack of trust, Arthur? I said no.” “You just don’t understand. Matvey—he never knew me. He needs a home. He’s a grown man. You don’t even have to do anything, just be there, I guarantee you won’t pay a penny.” “Who’s going to make up for gaps in my life…” This time, Arthur grew angry. “Lena, enough! I don’t want a row. I really do love you! But listen—Matvey is my real family now. When you have your own kids, you’ll get it. Yes, I love you both differently, but it doesn’t mean you’re not important.” “I am. As a resource.” “Lena, please! You’re exaggerating.” “You dropped me for him in six months, Arthur,” Lena replied. “I’m not asking you to choose. You already have. You said it yourself: Matvey is your real son. I never was.” Six months passed. Arthur never called. Not once. One day, scrolling that same news feed, she spotted another photo. Arthur and Matvey. Posing in the mountains, Arthur decked out in trendy ski gear. Caption: “Teaching Dad to snowboard! He’s a bit old, but anything’s possible with your son!” Lena stared at the image for a long time. She reached for her laptop to finish her report when a message flashed on her phone. An unknown number. “Hi, Lena. It’s Matvey. Dad gave me your number, but didn’t feel right calling you himself. He wanted to say he’s sorted the flat and didn’t need your help in the end—but he’s worried about you. He really wants you to come visit for the bank holiday. He can’t say why, but he’s asking.” She started to reply, erasing and rewriting. “Hi, Matvey. Tell Arthur I’m really glad he’s doing well. I think about him too. But I won’t come. I have other plans for the bank holiday. I’m going to the seaside.” She chose not to mention she’d bought her own ticket—and that it was Brighton, not Turkey. And she wasn’t going with her father, but with a friend. Lena pressed “send”. And she realised she could find happiness without him, too.

Native Son Emma, you wont believe it! Matthew and I have made plans to fly to Spain next year!

There Won’t Be a Wedding — Why are you so quiet today? — asked Tanya. — We agreed to go furniture shopping for the bedroom on Saturday. But you seem down. What’s wrong? Denis knew: it was now or never. He had to say it now. — Tanya… there’s something I need to say. About the wedding. Tanya had waited for this conversation for a long time. She and Denis had agreed to keep things low-key, but she could tell Denis wanted to plan a real wedding for her—with lots of guests, a videographer, organisers… How she waited for this talk! — Let’s not drag this out, please. I think I know what you’re about to say, — Tanya smiled. But Denis said: — Let’s postpone… Let’s postpone the wedding. This was not the conversation she thought they’d have. — Postpone? — she was in shock. — What’s with the sudden change? Why? We just talked about invitations… You picked them out yourself! We discussed the guest list! You’ve changed your mind about marrying me? She half expected him to say he’d fallen out of love, just like in a soap opera. But Denis didn’t follow the script. — It’s just… money’s tight, — he mumbled. — My pay’s been delayed. We can’t really save up. And… we’ve only lived together six months. Isn’t it a bit soon? — “A bit soon?” — Tanya choked. — Denis, we’ve dated three years! Three years together, six months sharing a flat, and you think it’s “too soon”? Denis didn’t look as afraid anymore. — Don’t start, Tanya. I don’t want a row. It’s just… a pause. I haven’t changed my mind about marrying you, but weddings are expensive. — Fine… Then let’s just register quietly, just us two, and then celebrate with friends. — Tanya, then we won’t have a real wedding. — Oh, let it go! — But you’ve always dreamed— — I’ll live! Strange excuses he comes up with. — Tanya… — Tell me the truth. Is something wrong? Are you not sure you love me? Or… have you met someone else? Because “the wedding is expensive” isn’t convincing. Denis shook his head. — No, Tanya, I swear. I just want everything to be perfect, you know? And right now, I can’t give you a perfect wedding. And, yes, six months. We’re still getting used to living together—maybe we need to figure out if we’re really right for each other… His logic made sense, but Tanya’s gut told her otherwise. It was rare for Denis to try so hard to convince her of anything, and it had been his idea to get married quickly in the first place. But she pretended to buy it. After that conversation, Denis became the perfect boyfriend—paying attention to details he once ignored, as if making up for cancelling the wedding. At the shops, he always asked what she wanted… he’d do the dishes every day… But he always looked glum. Not thoughtful—actually gloomy, sighing late at night, staring at the ceiling, brushing off Tanya’s questions with, “Just tired, is all.” Tanya tried not to push. “Later, later, later,” her inner voice whispered. A few weeks later, they were invited to Denis’ parents’ house. Tanya didn’t really want to go. Denis never brought up the wedding any more, and she knew his parents would ask—awkward. But she had to go. Inevitably, the wedding came up. — So, when will you finally make us happy? — his mother asked, once Tanya’s dad left for the TV. — We’ve already picked out a venue—table for twenty. What date should we book? Denis looked as sour as Tanya. What was there to book? There’d be nothing. — Mum, I told you. It’s postponed, — he croaked. — Postponed? Why? No money? Denis, as a man, you should have thought ahead! After dinner, while the men inspected a half-broken speaker, Tanya went to tidy herself up in the bathroom. It was spotless, like an operating theatre. Not even her mother-in-law’s cosmetics, except for the shower gel and shampoo—she kept hers in her room. Tanya always wondered how she had the energy to lug it all about. Tanya dried her face and suddenly listened… The bathroom walls always seemed to carry secrets. Denis had gone to the kitchen and was talking to his mum. And Tanya heard… — …Denis, you’re not thinking of breaking up with Tanya? Tanya froze. What? She didn’t kid herself that she’d misheard. Carefully, she pressed her ear to the wall. — Mum, I told you. It’s postponed, but we’re still together. — “Postponed”—such an excuse! — Galina Sergevna snapped. — I can see how unhappy you are. Why do you need her? She’s not wife material—wives listen to their husbands, but her… Why get married if you’ll only divorce in a year? — I love her, Mum, — Denis said quietly. Tanya even felt a pang of affection. But his mum’s next words cut that short. — You say you love her? She’s sly, Denis. I told you! And she’s already turned you against us, before you’re even married. You stopped helping your sister, you don’t come to the cottage… She’s changing you—and not for the better. Tanya stuck to the cold tiles in disbelief. Turned him against them? When? She always tried to be as polite as possible, even when Anatoly Petrovich tore apart her new haircut. She’d been hurt, but said nothing! She couldn’t think of a single time she’s purposely turned Denis against his family. On the contrary—she always encouraged him to visit, knowing how much they meant to him. And it hit her: the wedding wasn’t postponed for money. It was his mum’s doing—all her lies. His mum didn’t want the wedding! Tanya hurried in. — Oh, Tanya! — his mum put on her sweetest face. — We were just saying you shouldn’t delay registering. I know youth is fleeting, but I don’t approve of living together without the knot. How nice of her. — Of course, Galina Sergevna, — Tanya said. — We won’t delay for long. As soon as we’ve saved a little—we’ll go straight to the registry, won’t we, Denis? — Yes, Tanya, we’re basically married already, — he chimed in. That night, driving home, Denis tried to cuddle her, but Tanya kept pulling away. She didn’t know how to start talking about it. Should she even ask? If Denis hadn’t dumped her under pressure from his parents, then he must love her… But he’d still cancelled the wedding. — You acted strange when your mum started talking, — Tanya said, watching the river lights disappear in the distance. — Me? No, she just… pushes about weddings and… — Don’t lie. She’s NOT pushing you for a wedding. She’s against it. She said I turned you against her and wants us to break up. Denis gripped the wheel. — So you heard? Tanya, she’s scared her little boy will forget her once he’s married off. Classic mother-in-law behaviour. Don’t take it personally. She’ll get over herself. Tanya didn’t mind his mother’s possessiveness—she was worried about Denis himself. He hadn’t defended her, just agreed, to keep the peace. The wedding question hung unresolved. Denis still moped about, but now, when Tanya hinted at the future, he’d just say: “Maybe, later…” Then Tanya saw Denis’s unlocked phone. “I’ll just check the time,” she told herself. “Just the time—not messages. Well, maybe just one quick look…” His sister’s message was at the top. Vera—just two years younger than Tanya, but still acting like she was twelve. No job, no studies, still lives with mum and dad, on their tab. The message was blunt: — Figures, I won’t see my money. She’s got you under her thumb again. Go on then, if some girl’s more important than your own family. Tanya re-read it. “Under her thumb.” And suddenly she remembered… Before the wedding was cancelled, Vera had rung Denis—as usual, to ask for money. Tanya had said, exasperated: — Denis, she’s twenty-seven, still living off her parents and begging you for money for treats. Maybe she should start working? Our budget’s not endless. Tanya wouldn’t have interfered, but it was their shared budget now—she contributed as much as Denis, and never signed up to sponsor his family. Denis had agreed, reluctantly: “You’re right, Tanya. She needs to stop.” Now it was clear who had turned everyone against Tanya. She took Denis’s phone, opened Vera’s chat, forwarded the message to herself for proof, and put the phone right back. Denis was just brushing snow from his coat: — Got bread, and your favourite chocolate, nuts and all. I was thinking, Tanya, maybe we could… — Denis, — Tanya interrupted. — Who were you expecting—someone else? — he joked. But Tanya didn’t laugh. — What does Vera mean in her messages? — Tanya asked. Denis hesitated, then tried a classic deflection: — You going through my phone while I’m out?? Classic defensive move—shift the blame. — Denis, that’s not the point. I want an explanation. Now. Denis stood for a moment, his face cycling through emotions: anger, then panic. — Look, Tanya—it’s nothing. She’s just upset, she’s still a child. — Upset about what? That I asked her to grow up? — Tanya pressed. — She’s used to asking her brother for help. Getting out of that habit is hard. Don’t worry—it’ll pass. — She turned your family against me? — …yeah, — Denis admitted. — I tried to explain to them it’s our money now, and Vera should be… But Mum hit the roof—said you’ve got me wrapped round your finger, that I’m abandoning them. But I don’t think that… — But you cancelled our wedding… Okay—she poisoned your family against me. I get it. I can’t talk to them. But what about you? Do you even want to marry me, or is it just easier than telling your mum “no”? — Of course I want to marry you! Just… not now. Maybe later, when things have settled down… So there it was. — You know what, Denis? I’ve realised something… I don’t want to marry a man who isn’t sure of his feelings and jumps every time his sister sneezes. Good thing the wedding’s off.

There wont be a wedding Youre awfully quiet today, Alice said, peering over her teacup, I thought we

Shameless Beyond Belief “Come on, Kate, just tell me honestly,” Nick whined, “What’s the big cosmic difference if we rent the house to friends or strangers? The money’s the same.” Kate finished hanging the laundry, wishing Nick would quit complaining and help instead. “My darling Nick,” she replied, “The difference is you can never actually get the money out of family.” “You mean Dave?” Nick bristled at the implication, “Dave’s my brother! He’ll pay, I swear. He’s not even asking for a discount! He’ll rent the place at full price. For the whole summer. And we won’t have to go looking for tenants.” “Nick, it’s a seaside house. I could find tenants in five minutes.” “Explain why you’re so dead set on renting to strangers?” “It’s simple: with strangers, there’s a contract, upfront payment, and if they don’t pay—they’re out, end of. With family, it never ends—‘Oh, Katie, you know how it is, we’ve got kids… We’ll pay you later… Oh, we broke the telly, but you’re not actually going to charge us, are you?’ I’ve seen enough of it to last a lifetime. You don’t know how those stories end.” Kate’s parents had owned the seaside cottage before her. They lived right there in Brighton, and the house was the perfect little side hustle. Kate stuck to their formula—rent the place out, but, under no circumstances, to friends or family. She’d seen her parents get burned too often. “And how do those stories end?” her husband pressed. “With relatives not paying, and not even apologising! As if it’s no big deal to let them stay for free. Nope. Business is business, Nick. Not a free B&B for your lot.” Dave, Nick’s brother, had decided a three-month seaside holiday was just what the doctor ordered for his wife and their three children. Summer was slow for work, so a little family getaway sounded perfect. Kate had her suspicions that Dave wasn’t planning to pay at all. “But Dave isn’t asking to stay for free!” Nick insisted, “He said he’ll pay.” “They always promise.” “So why bother? We always have a queue of people ready to pay market rate. Folks who turn up, sign the contract, pay up front—I get to sleep easy. No friends. No family. Business is business.” Kate’s logic was hard to argue with, but Nick wasn’t finished. “Fine. Don’t believe Dave. But do you trust me?” Kate waited. “I do. And?” “If Dave tries anything dodgy, I’ll pay you myself.” Nick blurted it out, all puffed up like a hero. Kate rolled her eyes. “Brilliant. You’ll pay me using our joint account.” “I… I mean… I’ll pick up some extra work. Evenings, weekends, whatever I can get. Whatever I make, I’ll give it straight to you. Not our money, just yours. Deal?” Kate didn’t realise it mattered so much to Nick. Maybe, if he trusts his brother that much, she should too… “You could talk the hind leg off a donkey,” she said, “You’re responsible for this. Fine.” Summer was months away. Kate had time to breathe and maybe even try to believe in Nick just a little. June rolled round. Trouble arrived on day one. Nick called Dave every three days, gently reminding him to pay up at least for the first month. Dave always had a reassuring answer: “Yeah, Nick, all in hand! The money? Ah, just waiting on a big invoice from a client. Should be here end of the month. As soon as it lands, you’ll have it. Sorry, just one of those things. Don’t worry!” June ended. Still no money. Kate bit her tongue for a month, said nothing, didn’t nag, didn’t scold. Nick had begged her to let him handle it—so she did. She was trying not to dent his confidence, but after another upbeat post-call with Dave, she couldn’t resist: “Any luck? Has he paid?” “Dave’s still waiting on that payment from the client. Should be any day now!” And still, the excuse hadn’t evolved. “Told you so. Relatives always have excellent reasons to pay late.” “Kate, it’s just a one-off!” Nick protested, “He’s not doing it on purpose, honest! It just happened this way. Give it a bit longer.” “Sure. Let’s wait ‘til September, when they pack up their three suitcases and cheerfully leave, saying, ‘thanks for the lovely holiday, we’ll settle up soon!’?” “Kate, you’re not losing anything. I’ll just take an extra job.” “You? Right now?” Nick wilted. “Give him a couple more weeks. If nothing changes… I’ll pay up myself. If it’s that important to you.” “I didn’t force you to promise anything. You insisted—to prove your brother’s a man of his word. So prove it!” The atmosphere at home soured; Nick spoke to Kate with a joyless gloom. July. The heat was suffocating. Evenings found Kate watching as Nick scrolled through job listings online, but phoned no one. “Nick, it’s the 30th today. Two-thirds of summer gone, still not a penny rent,” she reminded him. “Still waiting on Dave’s payment… But—” “‘As soon as.’ Right?” “He’ll pay! He promised the minute the money comes in, we’re first on his list! He’ll throw in a little extra for making us wait.” “I’m done believing. You vouched for him. You said: ‘I’ll pay.’ So pay up. Where’s that job?” Nick’s enthusiasm for side hustling seemed to be wearing thin. It was easier to promise than to work double. Doing double shifts wasn’t quite so heroic. “I’ll find something. But there’s not much about… Not going to start lugging boxes with my back, am I?” “Maybe you should tell your brother to start carrying boxes to pay his debts. You promised me. Either you find work right now, or I ring Dave and tell him if I don’t see half the rent by Friday, his family’s out—by the book—and I’ll chase the rest through Small Claims Court.” Nick broke out in a cold sweat. “Don’t call Dave! Court? What will the family think of me? How’ll I tell Mum—took my own brother to court, Kate? Nobody’ll understand.” Dave didn’t want to pay, Nick didn’t want to keep his word, but suing his brother was unthinkable—so he decided Kate was the villain in all this. “Some wife you are! Don’t care that I’ll be working myself into the ground, just to pay you back.” “I didn’t twist your arm, Nick! This was your idea!” “But how was I to know Dave would do this?” “I did,” Kate replied, “Because I’ve seen it happen. Over and over. You didn’t listen.” “I get it!” Nick snapped, “But you’re just ruthless, Kate! You’d have me run myself ragged for the sake of, what, some money? My health means nothing as long as you get paid?” “I’m not making you—I just want the deal you insisted on to be kept.” “Fine!” Nick shouted, “I’ll get another job just to pay you for Dave’s holiday, fine? If that’s what you want—enjoy your blood money!” The deal fell apart on Nick’s terms, yet Kate got what she wanted—Nick started moonlighting. Yet her heart felt heavy, and Nick glared at her with a wolfish resentment every evening when he’d finished a courier shift. “This is all your fault,” he spat one night. “My fault?” “Yes!” “Well, maybe you’ll realise—you can’t buy being the nice guy if paying the bill falls to me. Put your own money on the line for your brother, and see if you learn something.” Kate honestly hoped Dave’s conscience would kick in and he’d pay. Just as she thought it, the phone rang—Dave calling her, not Nick. Surely, this was it—a payment at last? “Kate, got a bit of a situation…” “Dave, I don’t have time. You owed August’s rent already, we’re still waiting for July. Not my problem anymore—it’s Nick’s, since he vouched for you.” “Yeah, Nick told me! Poor guy—listen, bit of a snag—the car broke down while we were here, spent the lot getting it fixed. Need cash to get the family home, so I’ll just have to pay you later…. hope that’s all right?” Predictable. Kate hung up. Nick saw it all written on her face. “Fine,” he admitted, “I was wrong to trust him like that. But you—you never let me make a single mistake. Instead of supporting me, you just pile in…” “Should I have smiled and said, ‘No worries, let them have a free holiday, I’ll just grin and bear it’? You made the deal that you’d cover his debt!” “Yes, I did!” Nick sulked, “But you agreed way too quickly to me working myself into the ground! Don’t you give a toss about me?” “Does your brother give a toss about you?” “He’s not a bad guy, he just got unlucky…” “Great. He’s not a bad guy, as he rips me off and leaves you holding the bag. But me—I’m the villain, because I want what’s owed?” Nick fell silent. Looks like rough weather ahead for their marriage.

Brazen Cheek So, Emily, tell me honestly, whinged Nick, Whats the cosmic difference who we rent the house to?