Gathered My Belongings and Stepped into the World, She Remarked with a Smirk

Author Harlan CovingtonReading 8 minViews 1

Laura packed her bag and walked out with a calm smile, typed her wife, Yesterday.

Your affairs dont bother me, Victor. Its all clear now. Gather your cash and disappear in any directionwhether to your ex or to your current.

What do you mean disappear? And what about Cody?

You remembered Cody? Of course You should have thought of him earlier. When you were running around instead of working or helping me with the baby, not now, recalling Cody.

Hey, Lark, why so sad? Lauras brother, Sam, opened the front door of the family house.

Sergei had returned from a twoday break and, judging by the shrieks echoing from the flat, had already managed a bit of chaos in the best sense of the word.

Aunt Laura, hi! shouted Olivia, Sergeis daughter, as she burst into the hallway to see who was there.

The crying continued.

Hi, sweetie. Whos shouting in there?

Oh, its Paul and Mike fighting over toys. Like little kids, sighed the fiveyearold, crossing her arms over her chest. Did you bring something tasty?

I did, but Grandma will give it to you later. First soup, then sweetsremember the rule.

I remember, I remember, youll never forget us, Olivia sighed again and retreated to her room.

The cries finally ceased, meaning Paul and Mike, the twins, had decided what to play with without knocking each other over.

Whats wrong with you? Sergei, who had been watching the exchange in silence, asked again.

I dont even know, Laura sighed, set her handbag on the table and began to slip off her shoes. I think Victor is cheating on me. He says Im paranoid and need treatment. But

Come to the kitchen, tell me everything.

Laura nodded, stripped down and walked into the small kitchen. Sergei turned on the kettle while his younger sister sat at the table and started talking.

There wasnt much to recount. She and Victor had met five years ago.

In his previous marriage the man couldnt have children, and after he split with his ex, Valentina, they said they were just friends.

That friendship has been tightening the knot around Laura more and more.

Hes texting her right before bed, you get me? I lie there while our son sleeps in the next room, and hes chatting with her.

Whenever I see that, I dash over to say hello. Lately hes staying late at work. I complain its hard to manage the child alone and I could use an extra pair of hands, yet he just mutters about his reports.

And now hes started nagging me, Whats so hard for you if the childs in nursery all day and youre just at home?

Wait, how is that at home if you also work remotely?

He thinks remote work means youre just lounging on the couch getting paid for nothing.

The fact that you still grind eight hours a day, just without a commute, doesnt bother anyone, Laura said, exhaling.

Have you ever tried to spy on him? Maybe check his phone and see what hes writing, whether its with his ex or anyone else.

Youre crazy! Laura shivered. Thats beyond human decency. What if Im just imagining things? Do you see how it looks?

Right, what does a chat with an ex actually look like when theres nothing there? a voice called from behind.

It was Julia, Victors wife, who had overheard most of Lauras complaints and now placed her phone on the table, the screen open to a conversation.

Whats this?

Its a chat with Olivias father, Vladimir. Read it.

Theres nothing to read. In a month there are three messages, all about when hell pick Olivia up, what hell buy her, and when hell bring her back.

Come on, theres also a Mothers Day card and my birthday greeting in the same thread, Julia said, feigning outrage. Notice, Vladimir and I also split on good terms.

We have a daughter together, and hes fully involved in raising her, not just paying child support.

If I were texting Vladimir instead of Victor before bed, Id already have divorce papers without anyone being able to dismiss it as paranoia.

And youre rightId have tracked my husband.

What if theres nothing at all? How would I look? Can you imagine?

And what if it destroys our marriage, and Im just a paranoid wreck?

Oh God, shes starting again, Sergei muttered, pressing his palm to his face.

I have an idea, Julia thought for a moment, then spoke.

Whats that?

Your husband claims work keeps him busy. Go talk to his boss, find out how long this will last.

Dont be aggressiveplay the pity card. Say you barely see him because of overtime, you had to take Cody to the doctor, you cant get a dentist appointment because he disappears after work

Watch his reaction. If his workload is truly massive, maybe hell let you leave a bit earlier and feel guilty. If theres no work, a different picture emerges.

Laura thought the plan sensible and decided to use it. She knew Victors manager, Mr. Whitfield, by face; hed often be seen around town.

Approaching him wasnt hard. He asked how things were, and Laura instantly delivered a line that steered the conversation.

Nothing much, Mr. Whitfield. Victor stays late at the office, so Im left with nothingno personal life, no social lifejust waiting for Cody to be picked up from nursery and for any sick leave to come up, which never does.

Whos keeping him until late? Whitfields eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. Victor actually asks for leave at four, saying he needs to help his wife, pick up the child, and occasionally go to the doctor, saying hes helping at home.

I dont mind him doing his job on time, but whats happening? Is he lying to my face?

Give him a call, Laura, if you can.

Laura dialed Victor and, in the most ordinary tone, asked what time hed be home.

Maybe you could ask for an early break? Take Cody to the park while I tidy up here.

Laura, I cant think about the park now. Ive got a crucial project, Sevas piled on me so much I feel like a wolf hunting alone.

Ive tried to be reasonablewife, child, but he only cares about two things.

He even threatened to fire me if I stop demanding special treatment.

Did I threaten to fire you? Seva snapped. Do you think I dont care about your problems? Ill sort it out tomorrow

What will you sort out? Laura promised.

They hung up. Victor didnt return that night, only showing up the next morning.

Listen, he began, theres something

I dont care about your excuses, Victor. Its all clear now. Pack your cash and go whereverex or current.

What do you mean go? And what about Cody?

You remembered Cody? Of course You should have thought of him earlier. When you were running around instead of working or helping with the baby, not now, recalling Cody.

But I

I gathered my things and left in peace, but Laura finished, typing furiously.

After lunch, her motherinlaw callednot to reconcile Victor with his second wife, but simply to announce Valentinas pregnancy.

The same Valentina Victor had once parted as friends with, yet theyd stayed close enough that a pregnancy finally happenedsomething that had once wrecked their marriage.

And you know what? Im glad it turned out this way. Valentina always liked me, and you with your undisciplined son Laura hung up before hearing the rest.

From that moment she truly didnt care about Victor, his exfuture wife, or any of their drama. Only she and her son mattered; everyone else became pages to be turned and forgotten as if theyd never existed.

Those pages, however, refused to turn, resurfacing three years later when Cody started school.

I Made the Decision to Stop Taking My Daughters—Aged 14 and 12—to Family Gatherings, After Years of Not Realising What Was Really Happening From a Young Age, My Girls Faced “Normal” Comments: “She eats too much.” “That outfit doesn’t suit her.” “She’s too old to dress like that.” “She should watch her weight, even as a child.” At First, I Dismissed It—“That’s Just How Our Family Is.” They’d Smile Politely, Stay Quiet, Bow Their Heads, while I Told Myself It Was Just Part of Family Traditions. Yes, There Was Laughter, Hugs, Photos… But Also Long Stares, Cousin Comparisons, Unnecessary Questions—“Jokes” That Left My Daughters Silent at the Dinner Table. As They Grew Older, the Comments Shifted: “Her body’s too developed.” “She’s far too skinny.” “No boy will ever fancy her.” “If she keeps eating like this, she’ll regret it one day.” Nobody Asked How They Really Felt. Nobody Realised That These Are Teenage Girls Who Listen—and Remember. Everything Changed When My Eldest Finally Said, “Dad… I Don’t Want to Go Anymore.” She Described How These Gatherings Made Her Feel: The Pressure, The Fake Smiles, The Hurt. My Younger Daughter Just Nodded Along Quietly. It Hit Me—They’d Felt This Way for Years. That’s When I Started Paying Real Attention. I Recalled Every Scene, Every Remark, Every Comparison. I Heard Other People’s Stories of Being Mocked “for Their Own Good” and Saw Just How Deeply It Hurts Confidence. My Wife and I Made a Choice: Our Daughters Wouldn’t Be Forced To Attend Places Where They Didn’t Feel Safe. If They Want to Go One Day—That’s Up to Them. If Not—Nothing Bad Will Happen. Their Peace Is More Important Than Family Tradition. Relatives Noticed. The Questions Started: “What’s Going On?” “Why Aren’t They Coming?” “You’re Overreacting.” “That’s the Way It’s Always Been.” “You Can’t Wrap Kids in Cotton Wool!” I Didn’t Explain. I Didn’t Argue. I Just Stopped Bringing Them—Sometimes Silence Says Everything. Now My Daughters Know Their Dad Won’t Put Them in the Path of Humiliation Dressed Up as “Opinion.” Some May Judge. Some May Call Us Difficult. But I’d Rather Be the Father Who Sets Boundaries, than One Who Looks Away While His Daughters Learn to Loathe Parts of Themselves—Simply to “Fit In.” ❓ Do You Think I Made the Right Choice? Would You Do the Same for Your Child?

How Could I Possibly Burden You With So Much? Even My Father and Tatyana Refused to Take Him In — “Marina, darling, come to your senses! Who are you thinking of marrying?” cried Mum, adjusting my veil. “At least explain what you have against Sergey?” Lost in her tears, I asked. “Well, his mother works as a shop clerk and barks at everyone, his father vanished God knows where, always drinking and carousing when he was young.” “Our granddad drank, chased granny around the village, and so what?” “He was a respected man, a leader,” said Mum. “But it didn’t make things easier for Granny. I remember her fear of him, even as a child. But Mum, Sergey and I will be fine. You shouldn’t judge people by their parents.” “Just wait until you have children yourself!” Mum warned, and I sighed. Life won’t be easy if Mum doesn’t warm to Sergey. Still, we had a joyful wedding and built our own family, grateful for Sergey’s house inherited from his mysterious, wandering father. Sergey renovated it into a modern home with every comfort—why did Mum speak so ill of him? A year after the wedding, our son Ivan was born, then our daughter Maria four years later. Yet whenever our children fell ill or got into trouble, Mum appeared with her signature “I told you so! Little children, little troubles! Just wait till they grow with that sort of family history!” I tried to ignore her grumbling—she complained out of habit, still smarting that I married against her will. Mum likes things done her way, but deep down, she accepted my choice and even admitted Sergey was gold—though she’d never say so aloud and admit she was wrong. Sometimes I feared those “big troubles” would come, wondering if past generations’ struggles shadowed our children’s future. Ivan inevitably grew up, and after finishing his A-levels, set off for university just 143 kilometres away—but a mother’s heart felt it like the distance between Earth and Mercury. I couldn’t sleep for the first nights, worrying if Ivan had enough to eat, or if the city would change my good boy. At first, Ivan lived in a student flat for local lads but my motherly concern soon convinced Sergey we should rent him a proper city apartment. Ivan promised to contribute and started freelancing online—smart as ever. I visited each weekend, helping him tidy and cook, though his flat was surprisingly spotless and he had homemade food ready—such a clever son! Eventually, my trips wore on Sergey. “Enough, Marina! Let Ivan breathe and live his life! You never give me time. I’ll run off to the postlady Lorna, see how you like that!” he joked, but I was rattled—Sergey was right, we needed to let Ivan be independent. Despite clucking like a mother hen, I learned to let go—until the university called and warned Ivan was skipping lectures, nearly expelled! I rushed to the city, determined to sort him out. Ivan was unprepared for my surprise visit—and hadn’t hidden the reason for his absences. The reason was Anna—a gentle, angelic girl—and a toddler in the apartment! I realised Anna, infant in arms, aimed to wrap my son around her finger. I’m a modern mum and this happens nowadays, but Ivan, so young, wasn’t ready for marriage or raising someone else’s child. Anna looked barely eighteen, when did she even have time for a child?! A storm raged inside but I held my tongue, greeted Anna, and took Ivan aside for a tough talk. “Is this love, son?” I asked, forcing a smile. “Very much, Mum,” he replied. “And what about your degree?” “I’ve slipped a bit but it’s just a phase. I’ll sort it out.” “What kind of phase?” “Can’t say, it’s not my secret. Maybe when you know Anna better.” I retreated, unsure how to keep him on my side, blaming Sergey for pushing Ivan to freedom. “See what your freedom’s led to!” I snapped. But Sergey was unfazed. “What’s really wrong with a ready-made child, if Ivan loves him? I’ll be his granddad.” “But it’s not even our grandchild!” “Children are never strangers, Marina. Think about it.” Sergey went to sleep, and I wandered the empty house, angry at life, Anna, Ivan, and Sergey for taking their side. But I knew Sergey was right. Children are blameless, and Anna seemed a victim of circumstance. By dawn, I’d forgiven myself and crawled in beside Sergey, determined to embrace my new role as granny. The little boy, Mikhail, was a lovely child! Yet things got complicated. Ivan switched to evening classes and announced he and Anna would marry. I didn’t rush to judgment and, after discussing with Sergey, we visited the city for a proper chat. Anna greeted us, tearfully apologising, and Sergey assured her all was well. Over tea, Ivan returned, looking grown up and determined. “So, you’re set on marrying?” asked Sergey. “Yes, Dad, and it’s not up for debate.” “But why such a hurry? Is Anna expecting again?” “No!” said Anna, flushing. I began to wonder if their relationship was more platonic than I guessed. Sergey pressed on: “Why the rush?” “Otherwise Misha will be sent to care,” Anna whispered, trembling. We learned Misha was Anna’s brother, not her son—their mother passed away in prison after a tragic series of events. Anna told us everything, and it broke our hearts. I almost shouted: “What are you doing, Ivan! We don’t need such a complicated family!” But an image of Mum trying to keep me from marrying Sergey stopped me. “Don’t judge children for their parents!” I reminded myself. And then Sergey had a wonderful idea: “What if Mum and I foster Mikhail so you two can focus on uni and take things slowly?” Anna was snared between gratitude and worry. “How can I burden you like this? Even my own father and his wife refused to take Misha in.” As if on cue, Misha toddled in and stretched out his arms to Sergey, who scooped him up, declaring the “burden” was a joy. We soon gained legal guardianship. The social worker said it’s common now for older couples to take in little ones, sharing leftover parental love. Sergey and I both felt younger caring for Misha, shedding happy tears at night. Mum, as usual, scolded us for taking this on, but loved Misha more than anyone—and he adored her too. “Oh, Marina! What are you doing?” she wailed, only to fuss over Misha a moment later. “Whose little sleepy eyes are those?” So here we are—a family shaped by choices, burdens, and love, proving you never know where happiness will come from.

When a Man Refuses to Change… He Simply Won’t Do It—No Matter How Much You Love Him, No Matter How Many Chances, Time, or Patience You Give, or How Gently You Explain Your Needs or Quietly Cry; If He’s Decided to Stay the Same, He’ll Seek a Woman Who Accepts That—One Who Won’t Challenge Him or Expect Growth, Who Won’t Demand Emotional Maturity That He’s Too Lazy or Afraid to Develop; That’s Not Love but Convenience and Survival—A Man Who Chooses the Easy Path Because, to Someone with Unhealed Wounds, Responsibility Feels Like Pressure and Real Connection Like a Threat; Dear Woman, Don’t Confuse High Standards with Being “Too Much”—You’re Not Asking Too Much by Wanting Honesty, Consistency, Respect, Emotional Security, and a Relationship Where Both Partners Grow—These Are Basics, the Minimum, and a Real Man Will Start Working on Them Before Even Entering Your Life; But If a Man Isn’t Ready to Grow, If He Clings to Childish Habits, Chooses Ego over Growth, and Runs from Hard Conversations, Then Your Strength Will Intimidate Him, Your Clarity Will Sound Like Criticism, Your Boundaries Will Feel Rejecting—Not Because You’re Wrong, But Because He’s Not Used to a Woman Who Knows Her Worth; Instead of Growing, He’ll Withdraw, Instead of Learning to Communicate, He’ll Accuse You of Being “Too Emotional,” and Rather Than Rise to Meet You, He’ll Find Someone Who Asks Less, Gives More, and Expects No Growth—Because That’s Easier, Safer, More Comfortable; Someone He Can Manipulate, Who Will Swallow Her Feelings and Stay Silent; But Don’t Let This Shake You or Make You Doubt Yourself—Sometimes, It’s Not That You Weren’t Enough, but That You Were Too Much for the Version of Himself He Felt Comfortable In; You Are a Mirror—And He’s Not Ready to Face Who He Could Truly Be If He Had the Courage to Grow; Let Him Go If He Chooses Mediocrity, But Never Diminish Yourself to Fit into the Life of a Man Who Refuses to Grow—You’re Not “Too Much Woman”… He’s Simply Not Enough of a Man, and That’s Not Your Burden to Carry.