Weve sold you the house. We have the right to stay a week longer, said the owners. Back in 1975, we left
I got married six months ago, and since then theres been something I cant shake off. Our wedding reception
My mother-in-laws birthday is on 1st January. We went to visit her, and suddenly she asked, Victoria
When I Stepped Off the Bus, I Saw My Mother Sitting on the Pavement Begging – My Husband and I Were Stunned, No One Knew About This
I’m 43, and my mother is 67. We live in the same city, though on opposite sides. Like many elderly people, my mum needs constant care, but she refuses to move in with me for one reason: she has four cats and three dogs in her flat. She also feeds every stray in the neighbourhood. Every penny I give her for food or medication is spent on animals.
I always bring her all she needs because I know she won’t spend any money on herself. Recently, after leaving a friend’s house, my husband and I decided to leave the car behind and take the bus home. Imagine my shock when I got off and saw my mum sitting on the pavement, begging for money. I was at a loss for words. My husband was just as stunned. He knew I was taking money out of our family budget for my mum.
Naturally, he wondered what the money was really being spent on. Turns out my mum was collecting money for her cats and dogs – for pet food and vaccinations.
It all sounds tragic, but what would you think if you saw your own mother like this? What would your family, friends, and neighbours think? Of course, they would believe I was a worthless daughter who had abandoned her mother. Now I’ve taken to searching the streets for her. I know she hasn’t stopped – she just hides better from me now, even ignoring my desperate pleas. When I stepped off the double-decker bus that evening, I was absolutely floored; there, sitting on the
What about the flat? You promised! Youre ruining my life! My husband and I were absolutely overjoyed
I Gave My Surname to Her Children—Now I’m Legally Obligated to Support Them While She Lives Happily Ever After with Their Biological Father
Let Me Tell You How I Went from “The Fun Guy” to Official ATM for Two Kids Who Only Text for Movie Money but Ignore Me at Christmas
It All Started Three Years Ago When I Met Marianne—An Amazing Divorced Woman with Two Kids (Aged 8 and 10). Smitten, I Spoiled Them Every Weekend, Believing the “They Love You So Much!” Routine
One Evening, Over a Glass of Wine, She Sadly Confided That Her Ex, the Kids’ Biological Father, Never Gave Them His Surname—Never Officially Recognised Them as His
In a Brilliant (Sarcastic) Move, I Offered to Adopt Them. “They’re Like My Own Anyway,” I Said—Thinking I Was a Hero
We Went Through the Legal Hoops—Lawyers, Courts, Deeds—and the Kids Became Sebastian and Camilla Rodgers, WITH MY SURNAME. We Even Held a ‘Family Ceremony’ with Cake
Six Months Later—Just Six—Marianne Announced: “Mike’s Back. The Kids’ Real Dad Wants His Family.” She Decided to Give Him Another Chance “for the Sake of the Kids”
I’d Already Adopted Them. Lawyers Confirmed: I Was Their Dad Now. With All Legal Obligations—Child Support, School, Healthcare—Even If I Was No Longer with Their Mum
So Here I Am—Paying Maintenance for Marianne, Who Lives Happily Ever After with Mike in MY Flat (Because “the Kids Need Stability”). Paid for By Me. I Moved Out, Of Course
Mike, the Absent Dad for Years, Now Plays Park Football Hero While I Get Monthly Emails from the Solicitor: “Child Support Paid: £XXX”—Complete with a Sad Emoji
Last Month, Sebastian Asked for Money for Trainers. “Can’t Mike Buy Them?” I Asked. “He Said You’re My Legal Dad—He’s Just Dad at Heart.”
How Convenient. I’m the Budget Dad—He’s the Hero Dad
Adoption’s Basically Irreversible. The Courts See Me as the Villain for Wanting Out. My Friends Have Stopped Pitying Me—“Mate, At What Point Did You Think This Was Smart?” All I Can Say: I Was in Love
Now, Every Time I See a Couple with Kids That Aren’t Theirs, I Want to Shout, “NEVER SIGN ANYTHING! BE THE FUN UNCLE, THE BOYFRIEND, WHATEVER—JUST DON’T SIGN!”
My Mum Simply Said, “Love Made You a Fool,” and Hugged Me (Which Somehow Hurt Even More)
Yesterday Brought Another “Unexpected School Expense: £XXX.” As If School Isn’t Predictable Every Year
Meanwhile, Marianne Posts Happy Family Photos—The Kids, WITH MY SURNAME, Next to the Man Who Abandoned Them
The Icing on the Cake? Camilla (10, Yes—She Has Instagram) Lists In Her Bio: “Daughter of Marianne and Mike ❤️”—My Name Nowhere
I’m Just The Anonymous Sponsor of Their Lives
So Here I Am—Single, £500 Shorter Each Month, Two “Kids” Who Only Message for Money, and the Harsh Realisation That Love Made Me Do the Stupidest Thing of My Life
The Only Silver Lining: When Someone Asks If I Have Kids, I Can Say “Yes” and Tell This Story at Dinner—Everybody Laughs. Except Me—I’m Laughing Inside
So, Have You Ever Signed Something “For Love” That Cost You Dearly… Or Am I the Only Genius Who Gave Away a Surname and Bank Account in One Bargain Package? I gave my surname to her children. Now Im legally obliged to support them while she lives happily ever
I live with a man who insists that money has low energy. Weve been together nearly two years, and until
No one asked them to leave, I would say, whenever Mum or Sandra called to find out what happened.
When I Got Off the Bus, I Saw My Mum Sitting on the Pavement Begging. My Husband and I Were Stunned. No One Knew About This.
I’m 43, and my mum is 67. We live in the same city, but on opposite sides. Like many elderly people, my mum needs constant supervision, but she refuses to move in with me for one reason—she has four cats and three dogs in her flat. She also feeds every stray animal in the neighbourhood. Every penny I give her goes on medicine or animal food.
I bring her groceries myself, because I know she won’t spend any money on food or medicine for herself. Recently, my husband and I visited a friend at his house and decided to leave our car at his and take the bus home. Imagine my shock when I got off the bus and saw my mum sitting on the pavement, begging for money. I didn’t know what to think. My husband was stunned too. He knew I took money for Mum from our family budget.
Naturally, he wondered where the money was really going. It turned out my mum was collecting money for her cats and dogs—for their food and vaccines.
All this sounds tragic, but what would you think if you saw your own mother like this? What would family, friends, and neighbours think? Of course, they’d believe that I, such a worthless daughter, had abandoned my mum and left her to perish. Now I go looking for my mum on every street. I know she hasn’t stopped, even though I shouted at her—she’s just gotten better at hiding from me. When I stepped off the double-decker, the cobblestones seemed to waver like waves and there, amidst the
“Hello… Is that you, Vasya? – No, this is Olena… – Olena? Who are you? – Excuse me, but who are you? I’m Vasyl’s girlfriend. Is there something you wanted?… Your husband isn’t here, he’s held up at work… My head started spinning, I noticed drops of red on the floor. A sharp pain gripped my stomach—I could barely move… I knew the baby was about to arrive.
My husband Vasyl has spent the last five years working abroad—first driving lorries in Germany, then working in renovations in Poland. He left for money’s sake. We have two sons and always wanted to give them the best future. We realised we’d get nowhere if we stayed in England.
You know, life there started looking up for my husband. Each month he’d send us food parcels—canned goods, pasta, oil, sweets—and deposit money in my account so I could put it aside and earn some interest. We managed to save enough to buy our elder son a flat.
It seemed everything was perfect. But a few months ago, something felt off in my body. I thought it was the menopause, but the signs pointed elsewhere—I gained weight, was constantly sleepy and hungry, and my moods kept swinging. All the online advice screamed ‘pregnant.’ Pregnant at 45? I doubted it, until two bright lines appeared on the test stick.
I didn’t want to tell my sons or daughters-in-law about the baby. What for? So they could laugh and call me mad for having a child at my age? I decided to hide the pregnancy—luckily, with winter approaching, big, warm coats disguised my growing belly.
I didn’t want to have this baby. Some might say I’ve no faith, but I’m 45, no longer young. I already have sons and grandchildren—I want to devote myself to them, not nappies. Plus, we can’t afford another child—Vasyl would have to go abroad again, but I can’t cope without him.
Doctors said it was too late and risky for an operation—I might not survive. So I convinced myself all would be well. Maybe, I thought, Vasyl would be delighted about the new baby. I decided to ring him on Skype and share my news, only turning on the mic, not the camera.
“Hello, Vasyl…”
“This isn’t Vasyl. It’s Olena.”
“Olena? Who are you?”
“Excuse me, who are you? I’m Vasyl’s girlfriend. Did you want something? Your husband isn’t here, he’s still at work.”
I hung up and burst into tears. Turns out, a man can betray you anywhere, with anyone. I wanted to file for divorce and throw out all his things.
But in my heart, I hoped my husband would return when he heard about the baby. He was due home in February for the boys’ birthdays and had arranged time off. I even dreamt we’d walk in the park, Vasyl holding our daughter’s hand and me holding the other.
He arrived on Valentine’s Day. I prepared a romantic dinner, lit candles, played music—created a cosy atmosphere.
“Vasyl, I’ve got a surprise for you. I’m pregnant. They say it’s a girl.”
“You wretch!” my husband shouted.
He turned red with rage, flipped the plates onto the floor, pounded on the table.
“So while I’m working like a horse, you’re sleeping with other men? Now you want to saddle me with some bastard?”
“Vasyl, let me explain…”
“Get away, I don’t want to see you!” He shoved me and my stomach struck the table’s edge. I collapsed.
Vasyl stormed out, grabbed his bag, and slammed the door. My head spun, I saw red droplets on the floor. My stomach cramped with pain, and I could barely call for an ambulance. The baby was coming.
When the paramedics arrived, I was already holding our daughter. She lay quietly in my arms, not crying, fast asleep.
“So, Mum, are you coming with us?”
“No. Take the baby. I don’t want her.”
“What do you mean?”
“I said, take her! This child has destroyed my family! Maybe someone will love her, but it won’t be me. Please, just take her away—I don’t want to see her.”
With no regrets, I handed the baby to the medic. They checked me over—no tears, a smooth delivery. Once the ambulance left, I cleaned the house, showered, and went to bed.
None of my children know I gave my daughter away. Every day I go to church and pray she’ll grow up healthy and find a loving family, because I know I can’t cope. I don’t want the burdens of motherhood again. I only wish for Vasyl to return home, but he’s back in Germany and only speaks to our sons.
Call me mad if you want, but I’m choosing my husband over my child. God will judge me. 11 February I picked up the phone, hands trembling, dialling Toms mobile. Hello Tom It isnt Tom.
