Great Job! My Husband Spends His Nights with Me, His Current Wife, and His Days with His Ex—What Should I Do?

Author Walton MerrittReading 2 minViews 2

You wont believe whats been happening, mate. So, Im 38 now and for the last couple of years, Ive been living with a bloke named Richard whos about five years older than me. He was married before, has two kids, and his ex-wife, whos out of work, is constantly on the phone every evening asking for a hand with something or some cash.

Ive never been married myself and dont have kids, and people always say I cant possibly understand what its like to have a family. Trust me, I get it. But surely its odd, isnt it, living with someone as his partner, while hes running off every day to his ex-wife? Its not exactly normal.

To be honest, I think Richards ex is trying to win him back. Literally, every day she calls up with some sort of crisis and as soon as hes done at work, hes out of the house, heading over to hers, and only gets home lateway past bedtime. We dont even get to spend the holidays together, just the two of us. Every Christmas or Easter, shell ring with some drama, and off he goes again. I cant wrap my head around why he has to be the one to drop everything.

Shes got loads of family nearby, friends all around, everyone pretty local. Its obvious whats going on: she wants him back. Im absolutely fed up. I just dont know what to do anymoreshould I pack it in and walk away? Talking to him about it leads nowhere.

“You Can Live with Us—Why Bother with a Mortgage? Our House Will Be Yours One Day!” My Mother-in-Law Insisted My mother-in-law is determined to stop us from getting a mortgage. She wants us to move in and promises the house will eventually go to my husband, since he’s their only heir. But she’s only forty-five and my father-in-law’s forty-seven. My husband and I are both twenty-five, have good jobs, and can afford to rent—but I worry everyday squabbles will strain family ties. My husband’s parents keep urging us to live together. My own parents have a spacious three-bedroom home, but I don’t want to be a guest on someone else’s turf—especially not at my in-laws’ place. When lockdown hit, our landlord asked us to move out so her niece’s family could move in. With no time to find a new place, we wound up at my in-laws’. They welcomed us warmly, and my mother-in-law never bullied me, but she did constantly point out everything I was doing wrong. She’s different from my own mum. We’d always wanted a place of our own, but now seemed like the perfect moment to save more. As much as I wanted to move out, I realised renting again would mean saving for ages before buying. Although my in-laws don’t meddle, their routines and rules are so different from ours. My husband and I are always having to adjust, and it makes me feel out of place—even if it seems trivial. From day one, my mother-in-law banished me from the kitchen. That’s her realm, no exceptions. But I struggle with her cooking; she uses way too many spices and onions. It may sound petty, but it’s a real problem for me. When I tried cooking for myself, she took it personally, thinking I was criticising her homemaking. Every Friday, she deep cleans after work. My husband and I are exhausted after the week—we just want to crash. She’s hurt that she’s cleaning alone. When I asked why the big clean isn’t on Saturday or Sunday, she said weekends are for relaxing. These little things add up. What makes it bearable is knowing her attitude isn’t mean-spirited—it’s just how she does things, and that living there isn’t forever. My husband and I agreed not to tell our parents we were saving up for our own place. We paid half the bills, contributed to the shopping, and saved the rest. One day, the topic shifted to the new car his cousin bought. My father-in-law suggested we buy one too, but my husband said a house was the real priority. “How long will you have to save?” his father asked. My husband explained we’re saving for a mortgage deposit—not buying outright. “You can just live with us—why bother with a mortgage? The house will be yours anyway!” my mother-in-law said. We tried explaining our wish for independence, but my in-laws thought it was daft to pay the bank when we could live for free. Seeing she couldn’t sway us, my mother-in-law started urging us to focus on having kids instead of worrying about a mortgage. Day after day, we heard her arguments for living together. They didn’t work on me, but they started getting through to my husband—he even started agreeing with her. “We don’t need a mortgage. Mum’s right. Life is peaceful, no arguments. The house will be ours one day,” he told me. “Fifty years from now, maybe!” I snapped. After that, my husband became convinced his parents were already old and might soon need care. He said a mortgage was a form of slavery—it would be much harder to pay off, especially if I go on maternity leave. But I want my own home now—not to wait for my mother-in-law to pass away to finally be the lady of the house…

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Please… don’t leave me on my own again. Not tonight. Those were the final words whispered by 68-year-old retired officer Arthur Collins before collapsing onto his living room floor in a quiet English village. The only living soul to hear him was the same companion who’d heard every word over the last nine years—his faithful, aging K9 partner, Bramble. Arthur was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve—retirement and widowhood hadn’t changed that. Neighbours knew him as the silent widower, shuffling through evening lanes with his old German Shepherd, both matching each other’s measured pace, two war-weary souls burdened by time. To everyone else, they seemed to need nothing, nor anyone. Everything changed that chilly evening. Bramble, dozing by the radiator, snapped to attention at the thud of Arthur hitting the floor. He sensed the fear, the laboured breathing, and with aching joints made his way to his partner’s side. Arthur’s breathing was shallow, his hands grasping for something unseen. Bramble didn’t understand the words, but the meaning rang clear—fear, pain, goodbye. With a desperate bark, Bramble clawed at the door, his cries ringing out until Molly—Arthur’s young neighbour who often brought him warm scones—came running. She sensed the alarm in Bramble’s bark—a frantic, pleading call for help. Seeing Arthur through the window, Molly scrambled for the spare key hidden under the plant pot, her hands shaking. She found Arthur motionless, and Bramble whimpering at his side as she dialled 999 in terror. Paramedics soon filled the small cottage with urgent energy. Bramble, ever the guardian, refused to be parted from Arthur, growling softly until one paramedic—Tom—recognised the service dog’s badge and spoke gently. “We’re here to help your mate, pal. Let us through.” With narrowed eyes and a heavy heart, Bramble allowed them close, keeping his head against Arthur’s foot as they worked. As Arthur was lifted onto the stretcher, his hand fell limp, and Bramble let out a heartbroken howl that silenced the room. When the ambulance doors opened, Bramble tried to follow, collapsing on the gravel in despair. “We can’t bring the dog,” the driver insisted. But as Arthur whispered, barely conscious, “Bramble…,” Tom broke the rules. “Let him in. He’s part of this team.” Bramble was lifted into the ambulance, pressing close to Arthur as the machines steadied their beeps. Four hours later, in a softly lit NHS hospital room, Arthur awoke to the gentle sound of Bramble’s breathing. The nurse pulled back the curtain to reveal Bramble resting on a blanket—the hospital had made an exception. Every time Bramble was taken away, Arthur’s vitals had faltered. Even the doctor agreed—they belonged together. Tears filled Arthur’s eyes as Bramble limped to his side, resting his head by Arthur’s hand. “I thought I was leaving you behind,” Arthur whispered. Bramble gently licked the tears away. From the doorway, the nurse smiled through her own tears. “He didn’t just save your life, Mr Collins. I think you saved his, too.” That night, Arthur faced the darkness hand in paw with Bramble, his loyal friend—two old partners, together against the world, silently promising never to leave each other alone again. Let this story touch the hearts that need it most. 💖

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📌 Useful Social Services & Contacts in the U.S.

Stay informed and get help when you need it. Below are key national services with direct contacts that may support you or your loved ones:
🏥 Health & Mental Support

SAMHSA – Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration

What they do: Free and confidential help with substance use and mental health disorders.

Hotline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357) – 24/7, anonymous support

Website: samhsa.gov

🧒 Support for Children & Families

WIC – Women, Infants, and Children Program

What they do: Nutritional and healthcare support for pregnant women, new mothers, and young children.

Federal Info Line: 1-800-522-5006

Find local WIC office: fns.usda.gov/wic

Great Job! My Husband Spends His Nights with Me, His Current Wife, and His Days with His Ex—What Should I Do?