La vida

Forget that you ever had a daughter, my daughter Emma said, cutting me off as if she were slicing a rope.

Stole My Father: – Mum, I’ve moved in! Can you believe it—finally! Oksana balanced her phone between shoulder and ear while wrestling with an uncooperative lock. The key turned stiffly, as if testing the new owner. – Oh darling, thank goodness! And the flat—everything okay? Her mother’s voice was anxious but thrilled. – It’s perfect! Bright, spacious. The balcony faces east, just like I wanted. Is Dad there? – I’m here, I’m here! boomed Victor’s deep voice. They’d switched to speakerphone. All settled, little fledgling left the nest? – Dad, I’m twenty-five—hardly a fledgling! – You’ll always be my chick. Checked the locks? No draughty windows? Radiators working— – Victor, let her settle in! Mum interrupted. Oksana, be careful—it’s a new build, who knows who lives next door. Oksana laughed, finally conquering the lock and pushing open the door. – Mum, it’s not a seventies council block. Nice flat, nice neighbours. I’ll be fine. Weeks blurred into a marathon of DIY shops, furniture stores, and her new flat. She fell asleep with wallpaper catalogues next to her pillow, woke up pondering the best grout colour for the bathroom tiles. That Saturday, standing in her living room, Oksana was comparing curtain fabrics when her phone buzzed again. – How’s it going? Dad checked in. – Slowly but surely. Choosing curtains today. Torn between ‘ivory’ and ‘baked milk’—any thoughts? – Same colour, just different sales pitch. – Dad, you know nothing about shades! – But I know electrics. Wired the sockets properly? Renovation devoured time, money, and nerves, but with every new touch, the bare walls began to feel like home. Oksana chose the milky-beige bedroom wallpaper, hired the laminate fitter herself, even reconfigured the furniture to make her tiny kitchen feel bigger. When the last builder cleared away the leftover rubble, Oksana sat down on the gleaming lounge floor, bathed in soft light pouring through brand new curtains, smelling of freshness and a hint of paint. It was hers, her very own home… She met her neighbour three days after moving in—while fiddling with her keys at the door, she heard the flat across the hall unlock. – Oh, the newbie! A woman in her thirties peered out, short hair, bright lipstick, curious eyes. – I’m Alina. Live right opposite—so we’re neighbours now. – Oksana. Nice to meet you. – If you ever need salt, sugar, or a chat, knock anytime. It’s weird at first living alone here—I remember. Alina turned out to be great company. They drank tea in Oksana’s kitchen, swapped stories about the management company, quirks of their floor’s layout. Alina always knew the best broadband, the handiest plumber, and which corner shop had the freshest bread. – Seriously, I’ve got a recipe for apple cake—out of this world! Alina thumbed her phone. It takes half an hour, tastes like you’ve been baking all day. – Yes please! Haven’t tested my oven yet. Days became weeks, and Oksana was glad to have such an open neighbour. They crossed paths on the landing, shared quick coffees, even swapped books. On Saturday, Victor arrived—to wrestle with a bookshelf that stubbornly refused to stay up. – You’ve got the wrong plugs, Dad observed. These are for plasterboard; you’ve got concrete walls. Hang on, real ones in the car. An hour later, the shelf hung perfectly straight. Victor packed his tools, inspected his handiwork, and nodded with satisfaction. – That’ll last a good twenty years. – You’re the best, Dad! Oksana hugged him. Together, they walked downstairs, chatting about work and her scatterbrained new manager who lost track of deadlines and paperwork. At the entrance they met Alina, arms loaded with supermarket bags. – Hi! Oksana waved. Meet my dad, Victor. Dad—this is Alina, the neighbour I told you about. – Lovely to meet you, Victor smiled warmly. Alina froze a second, her eyes flicking between Victor’s face and Oksana’s. Her smile became oddly stiff, almost pasted-on. – Likewise, she said quickly and hurried inside. Everything changed after that. The next morning, Oksana bumped into Alina on the landing and greeted her, but got only a frosty nod. Two days later, she invited her for a cuppa—Alina said she was busy, didn’t let her finish. Then came the complaints… The first police visit was at nine at night. – Got a report of loud music, said the apologetic officer. – What music? Oksana was baffled. I was reading! – Well, neighbours are complaining… Letters arrived at the management office about ‘deafening footsteps’, ‘constant banging’, ‘music late at night’. The local police began showing up regularly, always sheepish and shrugging. Oksana knew who was stirring the pot, but not why. Every morning was a lottery—eggshells smeared on the door? Coffee grounds stuffed between the frame and door? A bag of potato peelings tucked under the doormat? She started getting up half an hour early to clean before work. Her hands stung from cleaning products; there was always a sick feeling in her throat. – This can’t go on, she muttered one evening, searching for a video door viewer. She installed it in twenty minutes—a tiny camera hidden in a normal door peephole, streaming everything to her phone. And waited. She didn’t have to wait long. At 3 a.m., her phone alerted her to movement. Oksana couldn’t believe her eyes as Alina—in robe and slippers—methodically smeared something dark over her doorway, careful and practiced as if doing a chore. The next night, Oksana stayed awake, listening for every sound. Around half past two, she heard rustling outside. She threw open the door. Alina froze, clutching a squelching bag. – What have I done to you? Oksana couldn’t believe how small her voice sounded. – Why are you doing this to me? Alina slowly dropped the bag. Her face twisted, beautiful features melting into a mask of old anger. – You? You did nothing. But your precious Daddy— – What’s my father got to do with any of this? – Because he’s my father too! Alina’s voice rose, not caring who heard. He raised you, spoiled you, but he left me when I was three! Never gave us a penny, never called! Mum and I scraped by while he played happy families with your mum. So you—well, you stole my father! Oksana backed away to her doorway, stunned. – You’re lying… – Am I? Ask him yourself! Ask if he remembers Marina Soloviev and her daughter Alina—the ones he threw out like rubbish! Shutting the door, Oksana slid down, mind racing. Not true, not true. Dad couldn’t have. He couldn’t. The next morning, she went to her parents. She rehearsed her question all the way, but the words stuck when she saw her father—calm as ever, reading his paper. – Oksana! What a surprise! Victor stood up. Mum’s at the shops, she’ll be back soon. – Dad, I need to ask you… Oksana perched on the sofa, tugging her bag strap. Do you know a woman named Marina Soloviev? Victor went rigid. The newspaper slipped to the floor. – How did you— – Her daughter’s my neighbour. The one I introduced you to. She says you’re her father. Silence lasted forever. – We’re going to see her, Victor said abruptly. Right now. I need to put this right. Forty minutes later, they were outside Alina’s flat, silent throughout the drive. Oksana stared at passing houses, her world broken into pieces. Alina opened the door at once, as if prepared. She glared at them, but stepped aside. – Come to confess? Thirty years late? – Come to explain. Victor pulled a folded sheet from his jacket. Read this. Alina snatched it, distrustful. As she read, her anger slipped into confusion, her confusion into shock. – What…? – DNA results, Victor answered quietly. Your mum tried to sue me for child support. The test showed—I’m not your father. Marina cheated on me. You’re not my daughter. Alina dropped the paper. Oksana and Victor left. Back home, Oksana hugged her dad tightly. – I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry I doubted you. Victor stroked her hair—just like when she’d run to him as a child after a fight with her friends. – You have nothing to apologise for, sweetheart. It’s other people who are to blame. Things with Alina never improved. And after all her spite, Oksana had no desire to mend things—a woman like that could never earn her respect again…

Stole My Father Mum, Ive finally moved in! Can you believe it? Claire pressed her mobile between shoulder

La vida

010

My Husband Works, but I Pay for Everything: The Story of Loving Blindly, Independence Gone Awry, and Five Years of Covering All the Family Expenses in England

My husband has a job, but Im the one paying for everything. You ask how I ended up here, how I ever agreed

La vida

018

Mother-in-Law Squared: When Egor’s Unexpected Guest Turns His Holiday Upside Down With Adventure, Parachutes, Barbecues, and a Stray Kitten – The Unforgettable Visit of Feisty Granny Valentina

Well, Ill be blowed! I exclaimed instead of a proper greeting, gazing in stunned disbelief at the doorway.

La vida

Different People Igor’s Wife Was Unusual—A Striking Natural Blonde with Jet-Black Eyes, Curvy, Long-Legged, and a Firecracker in Bed. First Came Passion, Then Pregnancy, Marriage, and the Birth of Their Equally Striking Son. Life Rolled On: Nappies, First Steps, and Gentle Young-Mothering. But When Their Son Became a Teenager, Yana Discovered Photography, Enrolled in Courses, and Seemed to Drift Away into Her Own World. Igor Didn’t Understand—She Had a Good Job as a Solicitor, Kept Their Home Pristine, and Managed Their Son’s Studies, but Often Felt Absent, Never Sharing Small Comforts Like Watching TV Together. Instead, Yana Chased Exotic Travel with Her Camera, Left Her Job, Held Her Own Exhibition, and Bought Igor a Car with Earnings from Her Photo Work, Making Him Feel Uneasy and Uncertain About Her Life and Their Marriage. Despite His Attempts to Bring Her Closer—Even Resorting to Violence—Yana Remained Distant, Pouring Her Affection into Rescued Cats and Her Photography. When She Lost One of Her Cats, Her Grief Was Overwhelming, Leaving Friends and Igor Himself Bewildered. Eventually, Igor Found Comfort in Irina, Yana’s Childhood Friend, Expecting Jealousy or Drama from His Wife—but Yana Stayed Silent, Only Growing More Distant. As Their Son Grew and Flourished in His Own Unconventional Way, Igor Felt Increasingly Like an Outsider in His Own Family. When Yana Discovered Igor’s Affair, She Quietly Ordered Him Out. After a hasty divorce, Yana Announced Plans to Move to London for a Major Photography Project and Revealed She Had Long Loved Another Photographer, But Only Now—With the End of Their Marriage—Could She Pursue Happiness Honestly. In the End, They Simply Admitted: “We’re Just Different People.” From Then On, All That Remained Was a Once-a-Year Message: “Happy Birthday! Wishing You Health and Happiness. Thank You for Our Son.”

DIFFERENT PEOPLE Arthurs wife, he thought as he looks back now, was always a bit peculiar. Beautiful

La vida

013

She Gave Birth Quietly and Was Ready to Give Up Her Baby: A Midwife’s True Story of a Courageous Young Student, an Unexpected Father, and the Difficult Decision to Keep Her Daughter Despite All Odds

She gave birth quietly and handed over her child For years, Ive worked as a midwife, drifting through

La vida

When He Got Home From Work, The Cat Was Gone Patrick was a humble young man, free of bad habits. For his 25th birthday, his parents helped him buy a flat by supporting him with his mortgage down payment. He began living alone, working as a software developer, preferring a quiet life and keeping to himself. To beat the loneliness, Patrick decided to adopt a kitten. The little cat had a deformity in his front paws. The people who owned the kitten’s mother were planning to put him down, but Patrick felt sorry for him and took him in, calling him Handsome. The two got on famously – Patrick rushed back from work, and Handsome was always waiting for him by the doormat. After a while, Patrick started dating a clever woman from work, and in less than a month, she had moved in. From the start, she didn’t like Handsome and asked Patrick to give the cat away. Patrick refused, explaining that Handsome meant the world to him. Maria didn’t let it drop and kept pestering Patrick to get rid of the cat. Patrick finally insisted that Handsome was staying. Maria argued that the cat spoiled their image, as guests were repulsed by his paws. Patrick felt torn between Maria and Handsome, loving both dearly. On top of that, Patrick’s parents didn’t approve of Maria, thinking she was rude and brash. They warned their son not to rush into any commitment with her and to take a closer look. When Maria’s parents visited, Patrick realised he didn’t want a future with her. Her father laughed upon seeing Handsome at the door, calling him a “freak.” Patrick defended the cat, but all evening Maria and her father mocked Handsome for his looks and suggested getting rid of him, coming up with outrageous ideas for where to send the poor animal. Maria’s mother joined in the laughter. The next day, when Patrick got home from work, Handsome was gone. When he asked Maria where the cat was, she replied that she’d taken him to the vet clinic and left him there. Patrick frantically searched for Handsome for five hours…and found him. Purring in Patrick’s arms, the cat was delighted to be reunited with his owner. When Patrick got home, he told Maria to pack her things and leave. He never wanted to see her again. She was simply revolting to him now. The next morning, Maria quietly packed her things and left, wounded. She had never imagined a cat could matter more than her. Now Handsome and Patrick live together, and Handsome happily greets his owner after work every day.

When he returned home from work, the cat was gone. Oliver was a modest young man, free of bad habits.

La vida

The Snap of a Dry Branch Beneath His Foot Went Unheard by Johnny; In a Split Second, His World Spun Like a Colourful Kaleidoscope, Burst into a Million Shining Stars, and Then Reformed in a Sharp, Burning Pain Just Above His Left Elbow — “Ow…” Johnny Clutched His Injured Arm, Howling in Pain. — “Johnny!” His friend Sally darted to his side, dropping to her knees. “Does it hurt?” — “No, it’s lovely!” he grimaced and whimpered sarcastically. Sally reached out and gingerly touched Johnny’s shoulder. — “Just leave it!” he suddenly snapped, eyes flashing. “It hurts! Don’t touch me!” The frustration hurt twice over. First, the likely broken arm meant weeks in a cast—and endless jokes from friends. Second, climbing the tree was his own idea: he’d wanted to impress Sally with his skill and daring. If the first reason for his resentment was bearable, the second infuriated him. Now, not only had he embarrassed himself in front of her, but she was trying to pity him! No way… Standing abruptly, holding his limp arm close, Johnny set off for the hospital. — “Don’t worry, Johnny, it’ll be okay!” Sally hurried beside him, trying anything to console her friend. “It’ll be alright, Johnny! It’ll all be fine!” — “Just leave me alone,” he stopped, glaring at her, then spat on the ground. “How will it be fine? I broke my arm, can’t you see? Go home, you’re driving me mad!” He strode away, leaving Sally standing with wide grey-green eyes, whispering the same words over and over: — “It’ll be okay, Johnny… It’ll be okay…” *** Mr. John Victor, if we don’t see that money transfer in the next twenty-four hours, we’ll be very disappointed. Oh, and by the way, there’s a weather warning for black ice on the roads tomorrow, so drive safe. You know, accidents happen… nobody’s immune to a bit of bad luck. All the best. The line went dead, leaving silence. John flung his phone aside, grabbed fistfuls of his own hair, and leaned back in his chair. — “Where am I supposed to get that? That payment wasn’t due until next month…” Sighing, he picked up the phone again, dialled, and held it to his ear. — “Mrs. Olga Vass, can we send our partners in the holding company payment for the equipment today?” — “But… Mr. Victor…” — “Can we or can’t we?” — “Yes, but it’ll mess up the rest of this month’s payments…” — “To hell with them! We’ll deal with it later. Wire the money to the holding company today.” — “Okay, but after this—” John hung up before she finished and slammed his fist into the chair’s armrest. — “Bloody leeches…” Something soft and unexpected brushed his shoulder and he jumped in his seat. — “Sasha, I told you not to bother me when I’m working, didn’t I?” His wife Alexandra leaned in, kissed his ear, and stroked his hair. — “Johnny, please don’t get upset, alright? Everything will work out.” — “I’m sick of hearing ‘everything will be okay!’ Haven’t you had enough? What if I’m killed tomorrow, will it all be fine then?” John shot to his feet and pushed Sasha away. — “What were you doing, making soup? Then go do it! Don’t get on my nerves—it’s bad enough already!” She sighed and walked to the door. At the threshold, she paused, then whispered three words, just as always. *** “You know, I’m lying here remembering our whole life…” The old man blinked, his cloudy eyes turning to his aged wife. Her once-beautiful face was lined with wrinkles, her shoulders stooped, her posture no longer proud. Never letting go of his hand, she gently adjusted the drip in his arm, then smiled silently. — “Every time I got into trouble, when I was at death’s door, when the worst happened—always, you’d come and say the same phrase. You can’t imagine how it used to drive me mad—your naïve little mantra. I wanted to strangle you for saying it all the time,” he tried to smile, then was racked by a fit of coughing. When he caught his breath, he continued, “I broke bones, got death threats, lost everything, fell so far hardly anyone climbs out, and all my life, you kept saying, ‘Everything will be fine.’ And not once did you lie to me. How did you know?” — “I didn’t know a thing, Johnny,” the old woman sighed. “You think I was saying it for you? That was for myself, to calm my own nerves. You’re my whole life, silly. When you were in trouble, when things went wrong, my soul turned inside out. I cried rivers, I spent so many nights awake… I just kept telling myself, ‘Let the sky fall, as long as he’s alive, everything will be okay.’” For a moment, the old man closed his eyes, then squeezed her hand. — “Is that it? And I was even angry at you for it. Forgive me, Sasha. I never knew. All my life and I never really thought about you… the fool I am.” The old woman brushed a tear from her wrinkled cheek and bent low over her husband’s face. — “Johnny, don’t you worry…” She paused, looked deep into his eyes, and slowly rested her head on his quiet chest, gently caressing his cooling hand. — “Everything WAS okay, Johnny, everything WAS okay…”

The snap of a dry twig beneath his foot went unnoticed by Jack. Suddenly, his world spun like a kaleidoscope

La vida

The Stolen Betrothal

The wedding in Ashford was the kind that set the whole hamlet buzzing. John Miller, the villages ace

La vida

You Stole My Dad: “Mum, I’ve just moved in! Can you believe it—finally!” Oksana clutched her phone between her shoulder and ear, wrestling with a stubborn lock that seemed to be testing its new owner’s resolve. “Darling, thank goodness! And the flat—how is it, is everything alright?” Her mother’s voice was anxious, excited. “Perfect! Light, spacious. Balcony faces east—just how I wanted. Is Dad there?” “Right here!” came Victor’s bass through the speaker. “She’s got us on speaker. Well, has my little bird left the nest?” “Dad, I’m twenty-five—hardly a chick.” “You’ll always be my chick. Checked the locks? Are the windows sealed? Radiators—” “Victor, let her settle in!” her mother interrupted. “Oksana, be cautious. Newbuilds, you never know who lives next door.” Oksana laughed, finally mastering the lock and pushing open the door. “Mum, this isn’t some dodgy 70s bedsit. Nice flat, nice neighbours. I’ll be fine.” The next weeks blurred in a constant marathon between hardware stores, furniture showrooms, and her new flat. Oksana fell asleep buried in wallpaper catalogues and woke up debating grout shades for the bathroom. On Saturday, she was staring at curtain fabrics in the lounge when her phone beeped to life. “So, how’s it going?” her dad asked. “Slow but steady. Curtains are the current battle—‘Ivory’ or ‘Baked Milk’, what do you reckon?” “I reckon it’s the same colour with a fancy name.” “Dad, you just don’t get shades!” “But I get electrics—your sockets sorted?” Renovation devoured time, money, and nerves, but each new touch turned cold walls into a true home. She chose the milky beige wallpaper, found the right flooring guy, arranged furniture to make her poky kitchen seem bigger. When the last builder cleared away the dust, Oksana sat on the gleaming floor, bathed in mellow light through brand-new curtains, the air tinged with fresh paint. Her first real home… She met her neighbour three days after the move, fussing with the keys when the opposite door clicked open. “Oh, the newbie!” chirped a thirty-something woman with a pixie cut, bold lipstick and curious eyes. “I’m Alison. Right opposite, so now we’re neighbours.” “Oksana. Pleased to meet you.” “If you need sugar, salt, or just a chat—knock away. It’s weird being new in a block, I remember.” Alison was a joy to talk with. They drank tea in Oksana’s kitchen, debated building management quirks and talked floor plans. She shared tips—best broadband, affordable plumbers, where to buy the freshest groceries. “I’ve got the most epic apple pie recipe!” Alison scrolled on her phone. “Will send—it takes half an hour, tastes like all-day baking.” “Yes please—I haven’t tried the oven yet!” Weeks rolled by, and Oksana was glad to have such an open neighbour. They bumped into each other in the hall, popped in for coffee, swapped books. Saturday, Victor came by to help with a shelf that refused to stay up. “Wrong plugs—these are for plasterboard, yours is solid concrete. Good thing I’ve got proper ones in the car.” An hour later, the shelf was up and secure. Victor gave it a critical once-over and nodded with satisfaction. “There you go—should last twenty years.” “Dad, you’re the best!” Oksana hugged him. They left chatting about life; Victor fussed about work, Oksana moaned about her scatterbrained boss. Outside, Alison appeared, bags of shopping in hand. “Hi!” Oksana called. “This is my dad, Victor. Dad, Alison—my neighbour I told you about.” “Pleasure to meet you,” Victor said, smiling warmly. Alison froze for a heartbeat, her gaze flicking between Victor and Oksana. Her smile stiffened, as if glued on. “Likewise,” she muttered, then darted into the entrance. After that, everything changed. The next morning, Oksana greeted Alison in the hallway, but received only a frosty nod. Two days later, she tried inviting her for tea—Alison brushed her off before she’d finished. Then came the complaints… The police knocked at 9 p.m. “We’ve had a noise complaint—loud music, banging.” “Music? I was reading!” Oksana spluttered. “Well, the neighbours have reported…” Complaints poured in—management got letters about ‘intolerable stomping’, ‘constant banging’, ‘late-night music’. The police appeared regularly, apologetic and helpless. Oksana knew who was behind it. But why? Each morning became a lottery. What would it be today? Eggshell smeared on her door? Coffee grounds packed into the frame? Potato peelings tucked under the mat? She woke half an hour earlier each day to clear the mess before work, hands stinging from cleaning products, her throat tight with anxiety. “This can’t go on,” she muttered, browsing video doorbells online. Fitting one took twenty minutes. The discreet camera watched over the landing, streamed to her phone. Oksana waited. Not for long. At 3 a.m., her phone flashed—a movement alert. Disbelieving, Oksana watched Alison, in slippers and dressing gown, methodically smearing something dark on her door. Calm, practiced, as if routine. Next night, Oksana sat in wait. Close to three, a faint shuffle outside. She flung the door open. Alison froze, clutching a sloshing bag. “What did I ever do to you?” Oksana’s own voice sounded pitiful. “Why are you doing this?” Alison gently set the bag on the floor. Her face twisted, morphing into an old mask of spite. “You? You did nothing. But your daddy—” “What does my dad have to do with it?” “He’s my dad too!” Alison almost shouted, uncaring who heard. “He raised you, spoiled you, but dumped me at three! Not a penny, never called! My mum and I barely scraped by while he built his ‘perfect family’ with your mum! So you, basically, stole my dad!” Oksana shrank against the door-frame. “You’re lying…” “Ask him! Ask if he remembers Marina Sutherland and little Alison—the ones he threw away!” Oksana slammed the door and sank down, head spinning. No—surely not. Dad wouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Next morning, she went to her parents’ place. On the way, she rehearsed what to ask, but seeing her calm father with his newspaper, words caught in her throat. “Oksana! Surprise!” Victor jumped up. “Mum’s out shopping—she’ll be back soon.” “Dad, I have to ask…” Oksana sat, twisting her bag strap. “Do you know a woman called Marina Sutherland?” Victor froze. The newspaper slipped from his hands. “How do you…” “Her daughter is my neighbour. The one I introduced. She says you’re her father.” The silence dragged forever. “Let’s go see her,” Victor said sharply. “Now. I have to set things straight.” The car ride to the block was silent. Oksana stared out at the passing houses, mind racing to piece together a broken world. Alison opened the door immediately, giving them both a heavy look, but stood aside. “So, here to make up for thirty years?” she spat at Victor. “I’m here to set the record straight.” Victor pulled a folded paper from his jacket. “Read this.” Alison snatched it, suspicion on her face. As she read, her expression shifted from rage, to confusion, to shock. “This… what is this?” “A DNA test,” Victor replied calmly. “I did it when your mum tried to get child support through court. The result: I’m not your father. Marina cheated on me. You’re not my daughter.” The paper slipped from Alison’s hands… Oksana and her father left Alison’s flat. Back home, Oksana hugged Victor tight, burying her face in the coarse weave of his jacket. “I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry I even doubted.” Victor stroked her hair—like he always did when she’d run to him after childhood fights. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, love. Others are to blame for this.” Things with her neighbour never recovered. After everything Alison had done, Oksana knew there was no respect left to rebuild…

Took My Father Mum, Ive just moved in! Can you believe it, finally! Rebecca squeezed her phone between