“I Never Expected My Only Son Would Treat Me Like a Stranger: My Heartbreaking London Visit to Meet His New Wife, Their Modern City Lifestyle, and the Truth About the Wedding I Wasn’t Invited To”

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 8 minViews 3

No, theres really no need for you to come, Mum. Just think about it for a moment. Its a long journey, hours on the train, and youre not as young as you once were. Why bother with all that fuss? Besides, its spring and youve surely got plenty to do in the garden, said my son.

But darling, why not? We havent seen each other for ages. And Id so love to meet your wife properly. You know how it is best to get to know your daughter-in-law up close, I replied honestly.

How about this, then: wait just until the end of the month and well all come down to see you therell be lots of days off around Easter, he reassured me.

If Im honest, I was ready to set off, but I believed him. I agreed to stay put and wait for them at home.

But no one came. I rang my son several times, but he either let it ring out or hung up quickly. Then, when he finally called back, he told me he was terribly busy and that I shouldnt expect them.

I was gutted. Id so wanted to welcome my son and his wife. Hed married half a year ago, and I still hadnt met her.

My boy, Edward, I had for myself, as they say. I was already thirty, never married, so I decided to have a child of my own.

Maybe its wicked, but Ive never once regretted that choice, though things were hard for us, what with money always tight. In truth, we scraped by more than lived. But I always worked two or three jobs, just so my child wanted for nothing.

Edward grew up and left for London to study. To support him at first, I even picked up shifts washing up and doing odd jobs abroad, sending pounds home for his studies and rent. My heart swelled with pride that I could help him.

By his third year at university, Edward had started working and paying his own way. After graduation, he got a proper job and didnt need my help anymore.

Hed come back home, but rarely once a year, if that. Truth be told, Id never been to London myself.

When he started talking about marriage, I decided Id go at last. I even put money aside for the occasion. I managed to save up £1,300 a modest bit, but it felt like a fortune to me.

Half a year ago, Edward called with the news Id longed to hear he was getting married.

But Mum, dont come just yet, well only be signing the papers for now, well have a proper do a bit later, he warned me.

I was disappointed, but what could I do? Edward introduced me to his wife, Grace, over video chat. She seemed pleasant enough. Striking, really. And wealthy. Her father, my would-be in-law, was some sort of big shot. I felt happy for him hed done well for himself.

Time passed, but my son didnt visit and never invited me over, either. I grew desperate to see Grace and to hug Edward, so I packed up, bought a train ticket, made some sandwiches, baked my own bread, grabbed a few jars of preserves, and set off. I phoned Edward before boarding.

Honestly, Mum, what are you like? Why did you do that? Im at work cant even greet you. Heres the address, just get a cab, Edward sighed.

When I arrived in London that morning, I called a cab and was shocked at how expensive the ride was. Still, the city at dawn from the taxi window was magical, like something out of a painting.

Grace answered the door. She didnt even smile, didnt hug me just ushered me briskly to the kitchen. Edward was already off to work.

I started unpacking my bags: potatoes, beetroot, eggs, dried apples, pickled mushrooms, gherkins, tomatoes, and a few jars of jam. My daughter-in-law watched silently, then told me bluntly that Id wasted my effort. They ate none of this and she never cooked at home anyway.

So what do you eat? I asked, surprised.

We get everything delivered. I hate cooking the kitchen always smells afterwards, which I cant stand, Grace replied.

Before I could process what shed said, a child wandered in, a little boy of about three and a half.

This is my son. William, Grace said.

William? I checked.

Not Will, or Billy just William. I dislike it when people misuse names.

All right, Grace, whatever you say.

Not Gracie, just Grace. No one in town muddles up names but how would you know?

It wasnt the fact that Edward had married a woman with a child that got to me. It was that hed told me nothing.

But the surprises werent over. I spotted a huge wedding portrait on the wall.

Ah, so if there was no wedding, at least you managed a lovely photo, I tried to change the subject.

No wedding? Of course there was! It was huge two hundred people. Only you were missing, but Edward said you werent well. Perhaps thats for the best, Grace shot me an icy glance.

Would you like some breakfast?

Yes, please

Grace made a cup of tea and gave me a few slices of posh cheese. That, apparently, was breakfast.

But thats not what Im used to after a journey, you need something proper. I decided Id fry some eggs and cut myself some home-baked bread. Grace wouldnt even let me cook, said she couldnt have the smell in her kitchen.

She wouldnt eat my bread, either explained they were both on some healthy living kick.

Suddenly, I didnt fancy eating at all. It stung that my son had felt ashamed to invite me to his wedding. For years Id waited and saved for nothing.

I sipped my tea. The silence between us was heavy and unnatural. Just then, the boy ran up and cuddled me. I went to hug him, but Grace waved her hands about and told me not to touch him who knows what germs I might be carrying?

I hadnt brought any presents for the child, so I offered him a jar of raspberry jam and said it would be a treat on pancakes.

Grace snatched it from my hands: How many times do I have to say it? Were on a diet we dont eat sugar!

I felt tears brimming. I left my tea half-drunk, slipped into the hallway and started putting my shoes on to leave. Grace didnt react or ask where I was off to.

Outside, I sat on a bench under the block of flats and finally let the tears come. I dont remember ever feeling so heartbroken.

Some time later, I saw Grace go out with the boy and hurl all my jams and pickles straight into the bin.

I had no words. When they left, I repacked everything and trudged to the station. Someone had returned a ticket, so I was able to buy one for the evening.

Nearby was a café, so I went in and bought myself some stew, a proper slice of roast meat, and potatoes with salad. I was starving. It was pricey, but didnt I deserve a decent meal?

I left my bags in the cloakroom and had a couple of hours to wander London. The city was breathtaking; it cheered me up for a little while.

On the train home, I didnt sleep. I cried quietly. My own son didnt even think to ring and check where was I?

Id sooner wish for snow in summer than the kind of welcome Id had from my only son, the one Id pinned all my hopes on, and now, clearly, meant nothing to.

Now Im wondering what to do with the money Id put aside for his wedding. Should I just hand over the £1,300, so he knows his mum always thought of him? Or perhaps, after all this, he doesnt deserve a single pound?

— You Never Truly Loved Me. You Married Me Without Love, and Now You’ll Leave When I Fall Ill… — I Won’t Leave You! – said Marina, embracing Igor. – You’re the best husband! I’d never, ever leave you… He couldn’t believe it was true. Igor was feeling blue… Marina had been married for twenty-five years, and all that time men continued to find her attractive. Even in her youth, she was the most sought-after girl. And not just in her youth! At school, nearly every boy chased after Marina. Yet, she’d never been considered a beauty. She didn’t divorce her husband, complex character though he was. No, Marina stayed with Vadim right to the end. They raised their daughter, married her off. Her son-in-law whisked Daria off to Italy, now they sent back lovely photos and invites to visit. But Marina and Vadim had never made the trip… Maybe Marina would go someday. Vadim was gone for good. Marina’s husband died in a car accident. Such a senseless loss… Later, Marina was told he likely took ill behind the wheel. His heart faltered, he panicked, lost control. — Maybe he blacked out? – she wondered. — We’ll never know now. – sighed her friend, a doctor. – Cause of death: multiple injuries incompatible with life. Marina was in shock. Her friend Elena helped arrange everything. Elena got all the details through her professional contacts. Vadim was buried and Marina was left alone in the large house she and her husband had built their whole lives. Not too big for two, especially if guests dropped by; but for one person, for a woman – it seemed vast, almost a burden. A house needs a man’s touch… Daria came home to say goodbye to her father. She broached the idea of selling the house, buying a flat, maybe Marina moving to Italy with them. — Not a chance! – declared Marina. – I didn’t spend my life building this house just to sell it. And I’m not off to your Italy either. I’ve seen Italy… — Mum! — Naive girl, Daria! – Marina smiled through her tears. – Only joking. — Well, if you’re joking, maybe things aren’t so bad. It was all ambiguous, just as the late Vadim had been. On one hand, he was a caring, loving husband. On the other – a man of moods. When he was in a bad one, he could drive Marina up the wall. Then he’d repent, apologise, and Marina, an easy-going soul, wouldn’t dwell on it. And so they lived. Twenty-five years! Enough to drive you mad… Daria visited, then returned to her own busy life and marriage. Marina was alone. But, knowing herself, Marina realised this wouldn’t last. She mourned for half a year, then, when her tears dried, found a small crowd of suitors had already gathered about her. Even Marina’s own mother had once been surprised by her daughter’s ongoing popularity. — What do they see in you? They’re falling at your feet! You’re not even a beauty, unless I’m missing something. — You’re so kind, Mum. – Marina would smile, applying her lipstick. – Looks mean nothing, just empty noise. A woman should be charming, charismatic. Unique. — Off you go, enjoy yourself, – her mother would laugh. – Or your suitor will tire of waiting. — Another will come along, – Marina would shrug indifferently. Almost thirty years since that conversation, and nothing had changed. Women still complained that there were no eligible men left after forty, nobody worth marrying. Marina never understood that problem. At forty-six, she found herself with not just one, but two decent suitors. Her heart leaned toward Dmitri. He was her ideal man, handsome and intelligent, a wonderful conversationalist, great company – perfect for social occasions. But if truth be told, Dmitri excelled mostly at talking. Marina felt herself falling for him with her ears, but, given her age and experience, she knew he wasn’t the man for real life. Not for her big house. Her other suitor, Igor, was a solid, practical bloke. One who could drink his fill at a party, but always had hands that got things done and a spirit that endured. A real hands-on man with a gentle soul, but a strong backbone. To his wife, this sort of man would be quiet and gentle as a puppy – but move mountains for her, if needed. Somehow, Marina fancied Igor less – silly woman’s logic. He never gave her flowery speeches; sober, Igor was a man of few words. After a drink, he could tell a funny story, a joke, join any conversation. Igor could drink, true, but he was up and about the next day anyway, doused himself with cold water, active and focused – if quiet. Marina chose Igor. Dmitri, disgruntled that his eloquence failed, left. Marina married Igor, and he was over the moon. He drank a bit too much at the wedding, sang and danced until dawn. — You’ve done it again, – Elena smiled. – Barely a year since Vadim passed and you’re already re-married! Women can search high and low for a decent bloke, yet all you need is to step outside your door. — You’ll be telling me next, ‘What do they see in you? You’re not even a beauty!’ — Oh, I won’t go there. But you are unusually popular, that’s for sure. — I don’t know what they see in me, Elena. Ask my mum. Marina winked at her friend and waltzed onto the dance floor with her new husband. As they danced, she chased away her last doubts. So what if Igor was a bit simple? He was strong, capable, even good-looking – and if he was quiet, maybe that wasn’t so bad. If she’d chosen Dmitri, what then? You can’t live on honeyed words. Within a few months, Igor had transformed Marina’s garden into a fairy tale. He cleared away old trees, levelled the ground, built flowerbeds, erected a gazebo. His masculine touch was everywhere in the house. No doubt, Marina had picked the right husband. Igor even provided for the household and showered Marina with gifts. Comparing just this short stretch of marriage with her twenty-five years before, she honestly regretted not meeting Igor sooner. He was golden. In the warm months they’d barbecue and dine in the new gazebo, at the table and benches Igor had made by hand. Marina, full of grilled kebabs, would smile contentedly. Igor would look at her and smile too. — What is it, Igor? — Nothing. I’m just happy. His first wife had been a real bore; he’d never imagined he’d meet anyone as wonderful as Marina. Four years of wedded bliss, and then Igor began to feel… poorly. He grew tired easily, started losing weight for no clear reason. When he did have a drink – and Igor liked a tipple – he felt even worse. — Igor, you must see a doctor! – Marina insisted. – What are you waiting for? Something’s not right. — Nonsense, Marina. I’ll be fine! — What sort of caveman thinking is that? And if you’re not fine? Or are you, like so many men, scared of doctors? — No… Igor wouldn’t tell Marina what he was truly afraid of. He feared that if he was really ill, Marina would leave him. She didn’t marry him for love, after all – he knew that. But he loved her, for all that. He’d seen her in a shop one day, struggling to find her purse in her bag, and in that very moment he’d fallen for her. Something about her confusion just touched him deeply. He immediately wanted to step in and protect her forever, even though his own mother, upon first meeting Marina, had said, — Son, it’s your life, but what do you see in her? She’s not a beauty. She’s no spring chicken. You could have anyone, even a younger woman! But Igor needed no one other than Marina. Now, if he were truly ill, would Marina want Igor at all? She never succeeded in getting him to the doctor. It was a Saturday evening, and Elena and her husband Boris were visiting. Igor and Boris were out back, drinking beer and grilling. In the kitchen, where they were making salads, Elena said to Marina, — Has something happened to Igor? He doesn’t look well. — That’s just it! – Marina exclaimed. – I keep begging him to see a doctor, but he won’t! You’re a doctor. What do you think? Is something wrong? — Well… he looks worse nowadays. Lost weight. His skin looks a bit yellow, too. — Oh God! Elena, please make him see a doctor, I beg you. Maybe he’ll listen to you! Elena studied her friend’s face. — Marina… do you love him? I just remember you had doubts… Marina bit her lip and said nothing. Elena never got the chance. Igor collapsed during dinner. They called an ambulance. Marina rode with Igor to the hospital. He never regained consciousness. She held his hand and prayed. He went straight in for surgery. — Liver tumour. — Cancer?! – Marina panicked. — We’ll wait for the test results. The tumour was benign, but it had grown to significant size before Igor reached the operating table. Doctors forbade Igor nearly everything. They warned him recovery would be long, and he might not regain full health. He wasn’t exactly young, after all. Igor became despondent. His mother came to visit him in hospital, while Marina was at work. She brought him food that he was allowed – the list was short. — I hardly recognise you, son! – said Tatyana. – What’s this? You pulled through. No cancer. You should be glad, yet you look so down. Here, eat your steamed cutlets. — Don’t want to eat. — You must! What’s wrong? At least Marina visits, doesn’t she? — She does… for now. – Igor muttered. — What? You think she’ll leave you? Don’t be daft! — I’m finished! Useless! Not even allowed to work. I’m fifty in June and now an invalid. Who wants an invalid? — What’s all this, then? – Marina said, coming in. – You’re shouting down the whole ward. Good afternoon, Tatyana. — I’ll get going then. Hello, Marina. Take care. — What happened? Igor’s mother waved her off and left. Marina washed her hands and approached her miserable husband. — What’s all this grumpiness, ‘invalid’? Arms and legs all there. Not much wrong with you that won’t heal. Do you know what I read about the liver? — What? — Fun fact: the liver’s the only organ that regrows by itself. If you have fifty-one percent left, you’ll recover completely. And you have sixty percent remaining. Just give it time. Everything will mend! — And do I have that time? — What? – asked Marina, confused. — Time. — Igor, what’s going on? Haven’t they told me something? Did you ask the doctors to hide something? — That’s not it… Igor was sent home. Life’s hardest part began. Any physical work left Igor spent almost immediately. The thought of his upcoming milestone birthday only made him gloomier. Can’t eat, can’t drink. Some celebration! Marina seemed oblivious, cheerily sharing his bland health food. — Marina… – he finally spoke out. – What happens to us now? — What do you mean? – she asked. — This… My recovery is slow. Will you leave me? Best to say so now. — Why would I ever leave you? I love being with you. — But that was when I could work, fix things. What’s so good now? Even I don’t like myself like this. — Oh, nonsense. Get a grip! — I’m trying! But it’s tough. Hammer two nails and I’m dog-tired. Marina approached from behind, hugged him, pressed her cheek to his neck. — I love you. And I never, never will leave you. Take your time with your recovery. There’s no rush. — You love me? Truly? — With all my heart. Marina doesn’t leave Igor. He recovers, slowly but surely. For his birthday, Marina threw a party without any booze, so he wouldn’t feel left out. A few friends came; they played board games in the garden gazebo. — You struck gold, Igor, said his friends as they left. — You’ll probably go home and get drunk for me now, won’t you? – Igor quipped. Everyone laughed and went their way. In the evening, Marina and Igor sat on the porch, gazing at the stars. Happy. For the first time in many months, Igor felt better. He believed he would heal. And that his wife truly wouldn’t leave him. He held Marina tighter. — What is it, Igor? — Everything’s perfect! – he replied. — At last, – Marina chuckled, kissing him on the cheek. They were happy. 💬 Friends, if you’d like to read more of our stories – leave your comments and don’t forget to like. Your support inspires us to keep writing!

Rita Went to Her Best Friend Pauline’s Flat to Water the Plants and Feed Her Pet Turtle While Pauline and Her Husband Were on Holiday—But When Rita Opened the Door with the Spare Key, She Froze in Shock: The Lights Were On, the Christmas Tree Was Glowing, the TV Was Blasting, and Strange Noises Came from the Bathroom. When She Opened the Bathroom Door, She Gasped in Surprise Rita Was Left Alone Over New Year’s, Feeling Sad While Her Best Friend Pauline and Her Husband Went to the Lake District Five Days Before the Holidays—Trusting Rita, Her Most Reliable Friend, to Take Care of the Plants and Turtle Since They Lived in the Same Building, Just Different Entrances. Rita Didn’t Know Fate Had Another Twist in Store for Her. A Week Before New Year’s, Her Boyfriend Nick—Who She’d Thought Was Her Soulmate for Two Years—Dropped a Bombshell Over Dinner: He Was in Love with Someone Else, and His New Partner Was Already Four Months Pregnant! Of Course, He Had to Marry Her; That’s What She, Her Mum, and Grandma Demanded. Nick Didn’t Argue—He Agreed. “And What About Me?” Rita Asked in Disbelief. Nick, Calmly Finishing His Dinner, Wiped His Mouth and Said, “You? Don’t worry about it. Admit it, there’s nothing left between us but the shell. You’re lucky I’m saving you from me. Not a great loss, am I? Might as well help me pack? No? Fine, I’ll do it myself.” And He Just Started Packing… Rita Wept at Home for Four Days, Not Eating—Only Drinking Coffee—Until Their Other Friend, Svetlana, Came By. The Plan Had Been for Rita, Svetlana, and Nick to Celebrate New Year’s Together—Table Booked Months Ago. Now Nick Was Bringing His New Wife. No Way Did Rita Want to Spend New Year’s with Her Parents—They’d Just Pity Her, Especially Since Mum Never Liked Nick… On 31st December, Rita Still Held Out Hope for a Miracle—Old Habits Die Hard. Even Adults Wish for Miracles and Make New Year’s Wishes… The Evening Came. Nothing Happened. She Realised She Hadn’t Given Nick His Christmas Present: a Plush Cornflower-Blue Wool Jumper—Expensive, Bought Just Before He Left. She Tried It On—Too Big, Shoulders Too Wide. “Would’ve Been Big on Nick, Too,” She Thought, Then Put It Back in the Bag. Rita Did Her Makeup, Promised Herself Not to Cry, and Walked Out—Believing the Old Saying: “The Way You Spend New Year’s Eve Is the Way You’ll Spend the Year.” Better to Wander the Festive Streets Than Sit Home Alone. With Just Over an Hour and a Half Until Midnight, She Popped into the Shop and Found Pauline’s List in Her Pocket: After ‘Water the Plants’ Came ‘Feed the Turtle Twice a Week.’ Rita Panicked—With Everything Going On, She’d Forgotten All About the Turtle! If Anything Happened, Pauline Would Never Forgive Her. Forgetting About New Year’s, Rita Rushed to Pauline’s Flat to Feed the Turtle, Unlocked the Door…and Stopped Dead: Every Light Was On, the Christmas Tree Sparkled with Fairy Lights, the TV Blared, and Strange Noises Came from the Bathroom. She Opened the Bathroom Door and Clapped Her Hands in Surprise: There, Shaving and Singing to Himself, Was a Man She Didn’t Know! Her First Thought: Someone Had Broken In—But Who Breaks Into a Flat to Shave? “Who Are You?” Rita Demanded Fiercely. He Quickly Rinsed Off, Smiled, and Said, “Don’t Worry—I’m Not Dangerous. I’m Pauline’s Cousin, I Live and Work Out of Town. I Was Here on Business, Meant to Go Back But Couldn’t. Luckily, I Have My Cousin’s Spare Key, We Called, She Said I Could Stay Here.” “Have You Seen the Turtle?” Rita Asked Out of Nowhere. He Nodded. “Fed It, Too. It Went Over There,” He Pointed Behind the Sofa. Pulling On His Shirt, He Said, “Let’s Introduce Ourselves: I’m Ian.” She Told Him Her Name, and He Held Out His Hand. “Let’s Celebrate Together! Just Ten Minutes Until Midnight.” Suddenly, Rita Ducked Out, Rushed Down the Stairs—Ian, Puzzled, Called After Her, “Wait! Where are you going?” Rita Raced Home, Grabbed the Gift Bag, and Tore Back to Pauline’s Flat—Door Still Open—Just as the Clock Struck Midnight. Ian Handed Her a Glittering Glass of Bubbly, and She Handed Him the Gift Bag. “Happy New Year!” She Said. He Opened It: The Plush Cornflower-Blue Wool Jumper. He Pulled It On—it Fit Perfectly, Even at the Shoulders. “I’ve Had Plenty of New Year Surprises,” Ian Said, “But This Is the Best One Yet.” “I’ve Had Two Surprises—Nick Leaving and Meeting Ian,” Thought Rita, But She Just Smiled. The Next New Year, Rita, Ian, and Their Little Daughter Celebrated Together in Their Own Home…

“Gran, Who Said You Could Keep a Wolf in the Village?” called Matthew. Agnes burst into tears when she saw her broken fence. She’d propped it up with planks many times, mending the rotten posts herself, hoping to make it last until she’d saved enough from her modest pension. But it was not to be! The fence had collapsed. For ten years, she’d run her cottage alone, ever since her beloved Peter passed away. He’d been a dab hand at everything—there was never a need to call for a tradesman. The whole village had admired Peter’s kindness and hard work. They’d shared a happy forty years together, falling just one day short of their golden anniversary. Their tidy house, the bountiful garden, the well-tended livestock—all spoke of their shared efforts. Agnes and Peter had one son, George, the pride of their lives. From childhood, George had always helped around the house, fetching firewood, hauling water, and caring for the animals before his mother returned from long days on the farm. Evenings found Peter washing up and enjoying a smoke on the porch while Agnes cooked dinner. Mealtimes were spent together, sharing the day’s news; they were truly happy. But time marched on. George grew up, left for London, earned his education, and married a city girl named Lucy. At first, he visited for holidays, but soon Lucy persuaded him to travel abroad instead. Peter was disappointed by his son’s choices. “Where’s George found so much to tire him out? It’s Lucy’s ideas, that’s what. Don’t know why he needs those foreign holidays,” Peter would grumble. After Peter fell ill and passed away, George came home for the funeral, weeping with regret, and then returned to the city. Over the next ten years, he sent only three letters. Agnes was left truly alone. She sold the cow and sheep she’d no longer any strength to tend. Without a man about, the place slowly decayed: the roof leaked, rotten porch planks snapped, and the cellar flooded. She scraped by on her pension, sometimes patching things herself, sometimes hiring dubious local help. Worst of all, her eyesight began to fail. Soon, she could barely read the prices at the village shop or see its sign. The nurse urged her to go for an operation, but Agnes was afraid. Within a year, she was almost totally blind. Still, she managed her routines by memory and made do without television, listening to the news instead. What troubled her most was not having a good dog—thieves prowled abandoned houses, and she missed the security of a loyal bark. She asked Sam, the local huntsman, to find her a pup—maybe a shepherd or a collie. Sam promised, but being unreliable and fond of drink, never came through. When the fence collapsed, she had to hire him for repairs, scraping the last coins together. One day, Sam turned up with tools—and something wriggling in his old backpack. “Look what I’ve brought you,” he grinned. Agnes felt a furry little head. “A puppy? Oh, Sam, I hope I can afford it…” “Don’t send me packing, Gran! You’d never guess what I paid for this purebred shepherd,” Sam insisted. Desperate, Agnes took groceries on credit to pay Sam his due—and soon, a new lodger, named Rex, was part of the cottage. She loved him, though he grew into the size of a calf and never learned to bark. Sam waved off her grumbles—“He’s a special sort!”—as Rex scared off all the neighbouring dogs just by his size. One winter day, as Matthew the huntsman passed by, he stopped dead at the sight of the animal. “Gran, who said you could keep a wolf in the village?” he cried out. Agnes gasped in shock. “Oh heavens, that Sam tricked me! Said he was a purebred shepherd…” Matthew gravely insisted the animal needed returning to the wild before disaster struck. Though her heart broke, Agnes agreed, and the wolf—her trusted Rex—was led into the woods, vanishing among the trees. Agnes mourned him bitterly, cursing Sam for his deceit—though Sam, too, regretted the way things had turned out. That winter, when a strange man knocked, claiming to be the new owner of an old neighbour’s house, Agnes let him in out of kindness. But as she bustled about, the man turned nasty, threatening her for money. Just then, Rex—who’d found his way back—burst in, scaring off the would-be thief and saving Agnes’s life, though not without injury. Rex became the village hero. Folks brought treats, and he came and went freely, always returning to Agnes after his woodland adventures. One day, a black SUV rolled up—her son George had come home, contrite and full of concern, insisting Agnes go for the operation to restore her sight. Agnes squeezed his hand. “Alright, I’ll go. Sam, watch the cottage and see to Rex for me, won’t you?” Sam nodded, and Rex settled by the old hearth, his proper place, faithful as ever. To keep up with more heartwarming stories, follow our page! Leave your thoughts, and show your support with a like.