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His Wife Packed Her Bags and Vanished Without a Trace: A Tale of Betrayal, Choices, and the True Meaning of Family in Modern England

His wife packed her belongings and vanished in an unknown direction. “Stop acting like a saint.

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My Mother-in-Law Dug Up My Prized Lawn at Our Country Retreat for Vegetable Beds – But I Made Her Put Everything Back the Way It Was

Simon, are you sure we didnt forget the charcoal? Last time, you had to dash off to that village shop

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My Adult Son Has Always Avoided Me. When He Landed in Hospital, I Discovered His Secret Life – and the People Who Knew Him in a Completely Different Way…

Eleanor had always felt the distance grow between her and her son, James. When the call came that he

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The Carer for the Wife — “What do you mean?” Lidia was sure she’d misheard. “I’m supposed to move out? Why? For what reason?” — “Oh, let’s not have a scene,” Edward grimaced. “What’s not clear? You’ve nothing left to care for here. Where you go is no concern of mine.” — “Ed, what is wrong with you? We were meant to get married, weren’t we?..” — “That was your idea, not mine. I never promised you anything like that.” At thirty-two, Lidia decided it was time to change her life dramatically and leave her little home village behind. What else was there for her here? Endure her mother’s constant nagging? Her mum never let up, always blaming Lidia’s divorce. “How could you lose your husband?” That Vaska wasn’t worth a kind word anyway—always drunk, always chasing after other women! She didn’t even understand how she’d managed to marry him, eight years ago. Divorce hadn’t upset Lidia in the slightest—if anything, it felt like a breath of fresh air. But her and her mum’s rows continued, now about money too, which was always in short supply. So she decided to head to the city and make her own way! Her school friend, Sophie, had done well—married to a widower for five years now. So what if he was sixteen years older, and not a looker? He had a flat, and money. And for heaven’s sake, Lidia was just as good as Sophie! — “At last! You’ve come to your senses!” Sophie cheered. “Pack up, you can stay with us at first and we’ll sort a job.” — “Your Vadim won’t mind?” Lidia questioned. — “As if! He does everything I ask anyway! Don’t worry, we’ll manage!” But Lidia didn’t stay with her friend for long. After a couple of weeks and her first paycheck, she rented a room of her own. Within two months, she got incredibly lucky. — “A lady like you working in the market?” said her regular customer, Mr. Edwards, full of sympathy. Lidia knew all her regulars by name by now. — “It’s cold and miserable—hardly fitting.” — “Needs must,” she sighed. “Money doesn’t grow on trees.” She added, half-joking: — “Or do you have a better offer?” Mr. Edwards hardly seemed a dream man in her eyes: twenty years older, soft from good living, balding and sharp-eyed. He picked over vegetables fussily and paid every penny exactly, but was always well dressed and drove a nice car—not some vagrant or drunk. He wore a wedding band, so as a husband he wasn’t a contender. — “You seem dependable, decent, and tidy,” he switched to an informal tone, “ever cared for an ill person?” — “As a matter of fact, yes. Nursed my neighbour after a stroke, her children were far away and couldn’t be bothered. They asked me to step in.” — “Perfect!” he said enthusiastically, then put on a grave face. “My wife, Tamara, has had a stroke too. Doctors say she’s unlikely to recover. I’ve brought her home but I can’t care for her. Will you help? I’ll pay well.” Lidia didn’t hesitate. Better to be warm—even if it meant cleaning bedpans—than freezing ten hours a day, dealing with picky market shoppers! Edwards even offered her accommodation in their home, so no rent to pay. — “They’ve three separate rooms! You could play five-a-side in there!” Lidia told her friend happily. “And they’ve got no children.” Tamara’s mother—quite the character, only 68 and recently remarried—was preoccupied with her new husband, so no one else could care for the invalid. — “Is she that unwell?” — “Oh yes… The poor woman’s flat on her back, can’t do a thing but mumble. No hope of getting better.” — “You sound almost glad?” Sophie gave her a sharp look. — “Of course I’m not glad,” Lidia said, eyes averted, “but when she’s… gone, Mr. Edwards will be single…” — “Are you serious, Lidia? Wishing someone gone over a flat?” — “I’m wishing nothing, just not missing my chance! Easy for you to say, you’re living in luxury!” They had a fierce argument and didn’t speak for half a year. When they next caught up, Lidia revealed her secret romance with Mr. Edwards. They couldn’t live without each other—or so it seemed—but he’d never leave his wife, he said, so for now, they’d carry on as lovers in secret. — “So you two are carrying on while his wife is bedridden in the next room?” Sophie disapproved. “You realise that’s vile? Or is it all about his supposed fortune?” — “I should’ve known you’d never have a kind word for me!” Lidia was hurt. They stopped talking again, but Lidia didn’t feel guilty (well, maybe only a little). Everyone acts so saintly! The comfortable never understand the desperate, as they say. No worries—she’d cope without her friend. She threw herself into caring for Tamara with devotion and energy. After her affair began with Ed, she took over every household task as well. A man needs more than bedroom pleasures—he needs good food, ironed shirts, clean floors, all that. Lidia thought Ed was perfectly happy, and she was too. She almost didn’t notice when Ed stopped paying her for caring for his wife—it didn’t occur to her, now they were as good as married. He gave her money for groceries and bits and pieces, and she managed the household budget, barely scraping by—but thought nothing of it. Ed was a factory manager, after all—his salary was good. No matter—when they married, it would all sort out. Their passion faded, Ed was less keen to come home, but Lidia blamed his constant fatigue—dealing with a sick wife. What was so tiring, though, since he barely spent a minute a day with Tamara, she couldn’t say, but she felt sorry for him. Even so, when Tamara passed away, Lidia cried. She’d devoted a year and a half to that woman—nothing could change that. She organised the funeral, too—Ed was overcome with grief. He gave her just enough money for the burial, but she made sure everything was done respectfully. No one could reproach her. Even the neighbours—who’d long gossiped about the affair—nodded approvingly at the funeral. The mother-in-law was happy too. Lidia never expected what came next. — “You understand you’re no longer needed here, so you’ve a week to leave,” Ed said coldly, ten days after the funeral. — “What do you mean?” Lidia was sure she’d misheard. “Where am I supposed to go? Why?” — “Oh, spare me the drama!” Ed grimaced. “It’s simple. There’s no one here for you to care for. Where you go isn’t my concern.” — “Ed, wait! Weren’t we getting married?..” — “That was your idea. I never agreed to anything.” The next morning, after a sleepless night, Lidia tried to talk to Ed again, but he repeated exactly what he’d said yesterday, adding, “Please move out quickly.” — “My fiancée wants to redo the place before the wedding,” he added. — “Fiancée? Who?” — “None of your business.” — “Oh, is that so? Fine. I’ll go, but you’ll pay me what I’m owed for my work first. Don’t look at me like that! You promised to pay me £400 a week. I only got that twice. You owe me £6,400.” — “Fast at arithmetic, aren’t you?” Ed sneered. “Don’t get your hopes up…” — “And there’s the housekeeping—pay up! Let’s call it £10,000 to keep it simple, and I’ll disappear without a fuss.” — “Or else what? Off to the courts? You’ve not got a contract.” — “I’ll tell Mrs. Anderson—I know she bought you this flat.” Trust me, once she hears, you’ll be jobless too. You know your mother-in-law better than I do. Edwards’ face changed, but he recovered quickly. — “Who’ll believe you? Stop threatening me. Just get out—I don’t want to see you again.” — “Three days, darling. No money, no peace,” Lidia packed up and went to a hostel. She’d put aside a bit from the housekeeping. On the fourth day, having heard nothing, she returned to the flat—and, perfectly, Mrs. Anderson was there. Lidia saw straight away Ed wasn’t going to pay, so she told everything to his mother-in-law. — “She’s talking nonsense! Making up stories!” Ed spluttered. — “I’d heard things at the funeral, but didn’t believe them,” the mother-in-law shot him a look. “Now it’s all clear. And to you, son-in-law, too—I trust you haven’t forgotten this flat is in my name?” Ed froze. — “So I don’t want to see you here in a week. No, in three days.” Mrs. Anderson made for the door, but paused by Lidia. — “And you, Lidia—still here? Waiting for a medal? Off you go!” Lidia fled that flat like she’d been stung. There was no chance she’d see any money now. Back to the market it would have to be—there’s always work there…

A Carer for the Wife What do you mean? Lydia thought shed misheard. Where do you want me to move?

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My Husband Went on a Business Trip and Never Came Back: The Truth Was Far More Horrifying Than I Ever Imagined

He went off on a business trip and never came back. The truth turned out to be far worse than Id imagined.

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The Letter That Never Arrived

The Letter That Never Arrived Grandma sat for ages at the window, though there was hardly much to see.

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My Mother-in-Law Tore Up My Prized Lawn at Our Country Cottage for Vegetable Beds, and I Made Her Restore Everything Back to How It Was

“James, are you certain we havent forgotten the charcoal?” Emily asked, glancing over at

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We Refused to Let Our Daughter Back Home — But why wouldn’t you let her in? — Veronica finally asked the question that had haunted her most. — You always let her in before… Her mother gave a bitter smile. — Because I’m scared for you, Nicky. You think we don’t notice how you shrink away when your sister barges in at night? How you hide your textbooks so she won’t ruin them? She looks at you and gets angry. Angry because you’re normal. You have another life ahead of you, and she drowned hers at the bottom of a bottle… Veronica hunched her shoulders over her open textbook — in the next room, the storm was starting all over again. Dad hadn’t even taken off his coat — he stood in the hallway clutching his mobile, yelling. — Don’t give me that nonsense! — he roared into the phone. — Where’s all your money gone? It’s only been two weeks since payday! Two weeks, Larissa! Tanya poked her head out from the kitchen, listened to her husband’s shouting, then asked, — Again? Valeriy just waved his hand and put the phone on speaker — at once, they heard sobbing. Veronica’s older sister could have softened a stone, but her parents had grown calluses after so many years of torment. — What do you mean, “he kicked you out”? — Valeriy began pacing the narrow hallway. — He’s right. Who would put up with your constant “states of nothingness”? Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re thirty, and you look like a battered stray. Veronica cracked her bedroom door open a couple of centimetres. — Dad, please… — the sobbing suddenly stopped. — He left all my things in the stairwell. I’ve got nowhere to go. It’s pouring out, freezing… can I come to you? Just for a few days to get a bit of sleep. Mum jerked forward, reaching for the phone, but Valeriy quickly turned away. — No! — he snapped. — You’re not setting foot here. We agreed last time, didn’t we? After you pawned the TV when we were away at the cottage, the door to this house was closed to you! — Mum! Mum, talk to him! — the phone screamed. Tanya covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders trembled. — Larissa, how could you… — she just said, not looking at her husband. — We took you to the doctor. You promised. The last treatment — they said it would last three years. You didn’t even make it a month! — Those “treatments” are rubbish! — Larissa snapped, her tone flipping from pitiful to aggressive. — They just suck money out of you! I’m suffering, can’t you see? Everything inside is burning, I can’t breathe! And you’re harping on about a television… He’s more sorry for it than me! I’ll get you a new one! — With what money? — Valeriy stopped, staring at a spot on the wall. — What money, when you’ve squandered every penny? Your mates lent it to you again? Or did you haul something more of his out of the flat? — It doesn’t matter! — snapped Larissa. — Dad, I’ve got nowhere to stay! You want me sleeping under a bridge? — Go to a shelter. Go anywhere, — his voice was cold and low. — But you’re not coming here. If I see you outside, I’ll change the locks. Veronica sat on her bed, knees hugged close. Usually, when her sister drove their parents into a rage, the anger would ricochet to her. — What are you doing just sitting there? On your phone again? You’ll turn out just like your sister, useless! — the same phrases she’d heard for three years. But tonight, nobody shouted at her. Nobody picked on her. Dad hung up, took off his coat and both parents went to the kitchen. Veronica crept softly out to the hallway. — Val, you can’t just turn her out like that, — her mother pleaded. — She’ll be lost. You know what she’s like when she’s… like that. She’s not herself… — Am I supposed to be responsible for her forever? — Dad slammed down the kettle. — I’m fifty-five, Tanya. I want to come home and just sit in an armchair. I don’t want to hide my wallet under a pillow! I don’t want to hear neighbours complaining about her showing up with a bunch of shady men and causing trouble! — She’s still our daughter, — Mum said softly. — She was a daughter until twenty. Now she’s just sucking the life out of us. She’s an alcoholic, Tanya. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. She likes this life. Wake up, find a bottle, and forget it all! The phone rang again. The parents hesitated, then Dad picked up. — Hello. — Dad… — it was Larissa, again. — I’m at the station. The police are walking around. If I stay, they’ll pick me up. Please… — Listen carefully, — he cut her off. — You’re not coming home. End of story. — So what then, should I just kill myself? — a pitiful threat in her voice. — Is that what you want? The morgue calling you next?! Veronica froze. This was Larissa’s “ace” when other tricks failed. It used to work: Mum would cry, Dad would reach for his heart, and her sister would get money, a bed, a meal, a clean-up. Not tonight. — Don’t threaten us, — Dad said. — You love yourself too much for that. Here’s what will happen… — What? — hope flickered in Larissa’s voice. — I’ll find you a room. The cheapest on the edge of town. I’ll pay one month’s rent. Give you some food money. That’s it. After that — you’re on your own. Find a job, get your act together and you’ll cope. If not — you’re back on the street and I won’t care. — A room?! Not even a flat? Dad, I can’t be alone. It’s scary. And what if the neighbours are dodgy? How am I supposed to manage with nothing? I’ve not even got bedding — that… so-and-so’s kept everything! — Your mum’ll pack bedlinen. We’ll leave it with the concierge. Pick it up outside. Don’t come up. I’ve said enough. — You devils! — screamed Larissa. — Your own daughter, kicked out! You’ve got your three-bed flat, and I’m meant to scurry around like a rat?! Mum finally lost it and grabbed the phone. — Larissa, that’s enough! — she yelled, Veronica jumped. — Dad’s right! It’s your last chance. Room or the street. Decide — tomorrow we won’t even do that! Silence on the line. — Fine, — Larissa muttered. — Just send me the address. And some money — to my card, right now. I’m hungry. — No money, — said Dad. — I’ll buy food and leave it in the bag. I know “what” you’ll spend it on. He hung up. Veronica decided it was time. She entered the kitchen, pretending she’d just come for a drink. She braced herself for a cascade of frustration — Dad would criticise her T-shirt, Mum would complain she didn’t care, was wandering around the house in the middle of a crisis… But her parents didn’t even turn. — Veronica, — said her mother quietly. — Yes, Mum? — In the wardrobe, top shelf, are some old sheets and pillowcases. Could you get them, please? Pack them into the blue holdall from the cupboard. — Okay, Mum. Veronica went off to do it, emptying out the old bag. She wondered how Larissa could possibly cope alone. The last time she’d cooked, she nearly ruined the kitchen. And… the drinking… Veronica knew her sister wouldn’t manage even two days. Back in her parents’ bedroom, Veronica climbed up for the linen. — Don’t forget the towels! — called Dad from the kitchen. — Already packed, — Veronica replied. She saw him gather coats, the bag and food bundles, and disappear without a word. He was clearly off to find that “hole” for Larissa. Veronica went to the kitchen, where her mum sat motionless. — Mum, do you want a pill? — she asked softly. Mum looked up, her voice flat. — You know, Nic… when she was small, I thought she’d grow up to be my helper. That we’d chat about everything. Now I just hope she remembers the address. Just makes it there… — She’ll manage, — Veronica squeezed her mum’s hand. — She always pulls through. — Not this time, — Mum shook her head. — Her eyes are different. Empty. Like there’s nothing left but the shell. I know you’re scared of her, too. Veronica was silent. She’d always thought her parents didn’t care how afraid she was — too busy saving “lost” Larissa. — I thought you didn’t care about me, — she whispered. Mum stroked her hair. — We do care. We just have no strength left. Like they say on airplanes: put your own mask on before the child’s. We’ve spent ten years trying to put the mask on her. Ten years, Nic! Priests, clinics, expensive courses, you name it. Now, we’re suffocating ourselves. A ring at the door. Veronica jumped. — Is that her? — she asked, fearful. — No, your dad’s got the keys. It’ll be the food delivery. Veronica opened the door to the courier, carried heavy bags to the kitchen, and unpacked grains, tinned food, oil, tea, sugar — nothing extraneous. — She won’t eat this, — she said about the buckwheat. — She likes ready meals. — If she wants to live, she’ll learn to cook, — Mum said with sudden determination. — We can’t baby her to the grave. An hour later, Dad returned, worn out. — Found it, — he growled. — Keys’re with me. The landlady’s a retired teacher — very strict. Says if she smells a whiff or hears a noise, Larissa’s out. I told her — do it at once. — Val… — sighed Mum. — What? No more lying. She deserves to know. He grabbed the bag and food, heading out. — I’ll leave these for the concierge. I’ll call her, tell her where to find them. Veronica, lock up behind me and if the phone rings, don’t answer. Dad left. Mum locked herself in the kitchen and sobbed. Veronica’s heart ached. How did it come to this? Her sister just drifting from one drink to the next, tormenting everyone… *** Her parents’ hopes were dashed — a week later, Valeriy got a call. The landlady had thrown Larissa out with the police’s help. She’d brought three men back and partied all night. Still, the parents didn’t abandon their daughter — Larissa was taken to a locked rehabilitation centre. They promised a year would change her. Maybe, just maybe, a miracle will happen…

Not Allowed Home Why didnt you let her in? I finally asked my mother, the question Id been holding in

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My Family Got Offended When I Refused to Let Them Spend the Night in My New Flat: Why I Said No, and What Happened Next

Emma, are you there, love? Gone deaf, have you? Auntie Mabels voice rattled down the line with all the

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The Cottage of Confrontation: How a Daughter Claimed Back What Was Hers

The Country Cottage Conundrum The Daughter Took What Was Hers Lucy, please try to understand, its a desperate