Julia Steps Off the Bus with Heavy Bags and Heads to Her Family Home—“I’m Home!” She Calls, Opening the Door. “Julia, Darling!” Everyone Rushes to Greet Her—“We Knew You’d Be Here!” That Evening, Gathering at the Big Family Table, There’s a Knock at the Door. “Probably the Neighbours, Coming to Wish Us Well,” Her Mum Shrugs and Opens the Door, Returning Not Alone but with Unexpected Guests. Julia Looks at the New Arrivals and Can’t Believe Her Eyes

Author Emily TaylorReading 8 minViews 1

Tuesday, 24th December

I stepped off the bus, arms aching from the weight of two shopping bags. As I trudged up our front path, the familiar sight of our old red-brick house cheered me. Im home! I called out, pushing open the door. Emma, darling! Mum rushed towards me, Dad behind her, and even Gran shuffled over in delight. We knew you were coming; could feel it in our bones! she said, giving me a tight hug.

That evening, the whole family gathered around our big oak dining table, sharing stories and laughter over roast chicken and warm apple crumble. Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door. Must be the neighbours popping over to wish us Merry Christmas, Mum said with a smile, and went to let them in. When she returned, she wasn’t aloneshe had brought in two guests. I glanced up, and couldnt believe my eyes.

***

A week earlier, Id been staring out of the frosty window of the coach, watching the countryside of Kent slip past as I left home for university in London. On my lap sat one of those huge tartan holdalls Gran insisted I take. Id packed only the essentials, but it still felt massive; Gran had even tucked a bag of warm sausage rolls on top. Their delicious aroma filled the coach.

Unable to resist, I unzipped the bag and took out two golden sausage rolls. Want one? I asked the young man next to me. Hed kindly let me sit by the window when I couldnt find a seat.

Love one, cheers! he replied, grinning and swallowing hard.

Im Emma, I said brightly.

Im Charlie. Off to uni, I suppose? he replied.

Thats right! Theres nowhere round my villageunless you fancy training to drive tractors. Not really my thing.

Same here! Charlie laughed, But honestly, I do like village life, just couldnt pass up on a uni place.

The journey to London took nearly four hours. Chatting away, we got to know each other well, swapped numbers, and once in the city, went our separate ways.

***

Between revision and entrance exams, time rushed by. Both Charlie and I got accepted into our chosen universities, and we were over the moon. All those worries and nerves faded awaynow the future looked bright and full of promise.

One evening, Charlie rang. Emma! Fancy celebrating at a café?

I was thrilledCharlie was genuinely lovely, and had a homely charm about him, very different from some of the other lads at uni. We met in town at a quirky café called The Hippo. From our seat by the window, we watched tour boats glide along the Thames as guides shouted through microphones.

I wonder why its called The Hippo? I mused.

Charlie laughed. Probably because if you eat enough of their cakes, youll end up as big as one!

I laughed and enjoyed my slice of Victoria sponge. After that, we kept meeting at The Hippo, calling it our spot. That night, when Charlie kissed me for the first time, it was tender and passionateIve never forgotten it.

Months passed; we grew closer. Apart from my parents, I felt no one was dearer to me than Charlie.

One rainy Sunday, now in our third year, Charlie asked, Emma, why not move in with me? And in summerwe could get married!

Charlie! Is that your way of proposing?

Sort of! he smiled.

So, by the rules, I have to ask: arent you worried Ill be under your feet all the time? I teased, referencing a scene from an old British film.

Under my feet as much as you like! Charlie laughed, spinning me around the pavement.

I returned to my rented flatwhere I lived With two other girls, brimming with joy.

You look positively glowing, Rosie said, her eyes twinkling. Spill, whats happened?

Oh, girls! I danced about excitedly. Looks like I might be moving in with Charlie soon!

So well be getting invites to the wedding, I hope? piped up Sophie.

No wedding yet! Just living together for now. The big days planned for summer.

Dont jump in so fast, Emma, Rosie warned, looking concerned. Thats ages awayanything can happen! Whats wrong with how things are?

I giggled. Rosie, you sound like my Gran. Everyone lives together these days!

Its justI dont approve of all these casual arrangements, Rosie sniffed. My mums a solicitor. I know how it goes…

Alright! Sorry, Rosie. Didnt mean to upset you, I apologised, giving her a hug.

***

I was convinced all the living together before marrying stuff was outdated nonsense. But Rosies words lingered, and I ended up hesitating on moving in with Charlie. Eventually, he stopped pushing the idea.

Mid-December brought snow to London, blanketing the city and making the Christmas decorations sparkle in the evening light. My friends and I strolled through Covent Garden, freezing but buoyed by the festive spirit, when we found ourselves outside The Hippo.

Lets pop in! Charlie and I love it here, I suggested.

Yesbut isnt that him over there? Sophie said quietly, nodding toward a window table.

My heart stopped. There sat Charlie, with a girlnot much more than eighteen, I guessed. They were laughing; he joked and she giggled in response.

I turned away, silent. Im going home, I whispered.

Were coming too, Rosie and Sophie insisted, linking arms with me.

Back at our flat, my friends tried to reassure me. It doesnt mean anything, Emma! It could all be a misunderstanding. But I remembered how kindly Charlie had looked at her, laughing together at our spot.

It felt like betrayal.

I started ignoring Charlies calls. When he tried to visit, my friends told him I wasnt there.

One afternoon he caught me on campus, grabbed my hand, and asked, Emma, whats going on? Is there someone else?

I stared at him, shocked by the question. Someone else? Nice way of turning things round! Let me go, CharlieIm late for my exam.

I slipped away, leaving him bewildered.

***

After finishing exams early, I returned home for Christmas. It felt safer to nurse my hurt under my parents roof.

As the coach arrived in Kent, the wintry air stung my cheeks, the snow sparkled on hedgerows and rooftops, and white smoke curled up from chimneys. Even our big old Christmas tree by the fence looked more splendid than ever, dressed in tinsel and baubles just as Mum always does.

Merry Christmas! I called, bringing in the gifts Id picked out for everyone.

Emma, darling! Mum, Dad, and Gran greeted me warmly. We just felt youd be here tonight! Mum smiled.

It was the happiest homecoming. If only winter days werent so shortthe darkness fell before five.

No matter, lets light up the tree, Dad said, stringing colourful lights through the branches.

Later, as everyone sat together at the table, laughter loud and Christmas crackers popping, there was a knock at the door.

Mum raised her eyebrows. Probably the neighbours with their annual box of biscuits, she said, and went to open it.

But she came back not just with neighbours, butFather Christmas and his elf! Well, Charlie in Father Christmas dress, and beside him that same young woman from The Hippo.

Charlie? I gasped. How did you know where to find me? Whats all this?

Charlie chuckled his familiar, hearty laugh, as did the girl.

Your friends told me youd be here. And I wanted to introduce youEmma, meet my little sister, Lucy!

Your sister? I repeated.

Yes, my sister! said Lucy. Pretty obvious, if you look close enough.

Relief flooded methe weight Id been carrying just melted away. If only Id asked straight out, instead of worrying myself silly! I scolded myself.

Charlie went on, And, in front of your familyplus my sisterI want to ask you, Emma: will you marry me? He produced a small box, opening it to reveal a delicate gold ring.

Of course I will! I cried, throwing my arms around him. This is the most wonderful Christmas ever!

There will be plenty more, as long as we talk straight when things look confusing, Charlie said, smiling.

I promise! I replied.

Today, Ive learned things are rarely as bad as you imaginesometimes all you need is a bit of honesty and the courage to ask.

Unwanted Child – So, have you chosen a name for your little one? The elderly doctor, wearing a practiced professional smile, looked at his young patient. – We haven’t actually picked a name yet, – interrupted Natalia, seated on a chair by the bedside. – It’s an important decision; Dasha needs time to think carefully. – I don’t want to pick one. – The young mum spoke up unexpectedly. – In fact, I’m not taking her home. I’ll be signing her over. – What are you saying? – The woman leapt up, shooting her daughter a furious glance, then turned to the doctor. – She doesn’t know what she’s saying. We’re definitely bringing the little one home. – I’ll drop by later, have a rest for now. – The doctor had no desire to witness a family dispute. As soon as the man left the room, the woman rounded on the girl. – How dare you say something like that? What will people think of us? Moving to this town was enough of a scandal. That child must remain in our family. – And whose fault is that? – Dasha stared her stepmother down. – If you’d listened to me back then, none of this would have happened. I would’ve finished school and gone to uni. So if you want that baby, you have her. Dasha turned her back, making it clear the conversation was over. Natalia tried for another few minutes to get through to her, but a nurse soon popped in and asked her to leave. The patient needed rest. Now Dasha was alone in the ward. She sobbed quietly into her pillow, praying to every god she could think of just to make it all end. A timid knock made the girl dry her tears. She took a deep breath and said, “Come in.” She expected a nurse or perhaps even her father, but the woman who entered was a complete stranger. – Is there anything I can help you with? – Dasha struggled to maintain a mask of calm. – I overheard… quite by accident! The doctors were talking in the next room, – the woman hesitated, unable to voice her question outright. – Yes, I want to give the baby up. That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it? – I saw your mum… – She’s not my mum! – Dasha snapped, losing her composure. – Just my stepmother with far too much to say. My real mum works abroad. – Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, – the woman faltered. – It’s just, I have three children and I spent my whole childhood in a children’s home. I feel so sorry for your little girl – she hasn’t done anything wrong! – They say babies that little get adopted quickly, – Dasha shrugged. – I can’t even bring myself to hold her, let alone anything else. If Nat had kept out of it, I wouldn’t even be here. – But you’re old enough to make your own decisions now, aren’t you? You’re over fifteen? – “Such shame!” – Dasha mimicked the stepmother. “How will we ever show our faces to the neighbours?” – I don’t understand… – Let me tell you, – Dasha gave a crooked smile, – maybe then you’ll stop judging me. **************************************************** Dasha’s last year at school was a disaster. Not only had her boyfriend Pasha been conscripted, their class had taken in a new boy – a flashy city lad, banished to their small town by his father as punishment for his behaviour with girls. He didn’t care about relationships, just racking up numbers. That was why he’d been sent away; his escapades were ruining his father’s reputation. Makar handed out expensive gifts, took girls clubbing and to fancy restaurants. One by one, her classmates fell for the act, each hoping to become the “prince’s” bride. Dasha was the only one who didn’t fall for his tricks – she was in love with Pasha and wanted no one else. Had the new boy finally got the message? It seemed so at first. How wrong she was. In late December, a friend held a birthday party. The whole class attended, including Makar, who paid the event special attention. But his intent wasn’t to celebrate the birthday girl. During the party, Dasha took a call out in the hallway. When she returned, Makar was sitting in her seat. She didn’t think much of it, until she suddenly felt very unwell… She woke in the morning, barely able to open her eyes. Beside her lay Makar, grinning. – See, all that effort for nothing, – he said casually. – Consider this my compensation. I’m honestly surprised. Your Pashka’s a real loser. Getting home was a struggle. Dasha could hardly walk in a straight line; passersby stared at her with disgust. She rang the doorbell instead of fishing for her keys; she knew her stepmother would be home. – Where on earth have you been? – Natalia snapped. – You didn’t come home, wouldn’t answer your phone, and just look at the state of you! If your father spotted you now… – Call a doctor and the police, – Dasha interrupted. – I want to make a formal complaint. He should be put behind bars. Natalia stiffened. Putting two and two together, she reached her own conclusion. – Who? – Makar, who else? – Dasha could barely speak. – No one else would dare. Call them, or I will. – Wait. – Natalia paced. She always looked for an angle. – They’ll get him off. We’ll do things my way. I’ll contact his dad and ask for a settlement. – Are you insane? – Dasha could hardly believe it. – A settlement? I’m going to the police now! – No, you’re not! – her stepmother grabbed Dasha’s arm, dragging her into the bedroom. She was too weak to resist. – You’ll be the one blamed; townsfolk will point and whisper. Leave it to me. Dasha had lost her phone somewhere along the way, or maybe left it at her friend’s. She was effectively trapped. Natalia locked her in, and her head spun worse than ever; she collapsed onto the bed… A couple of days later, Dasha got sent to her grandmother, who lived a hundred kilometres away. She didn’t want to worry the old lady, so she pretended everything was fine. A month later, she got the awful news. That night had left her pregnant. Natalia was thrilled. This baby would secure them an easy life! Granddad would pay, as he always had, covering for his son’s mistakes. Just keep it quiet until the fifth month. Dasha’s wants weren’t considered. The moment she suggested ending the pregnancy, Natalia flew into a rage and began watching her like a hawk. Granddad wasn’t thrilled, but handed over a hefty sum and promised regular payments. ***************************************************** – Do you understand now? I’ve suffered so much because of this baby. Pasha dumped me; he didn’t believe a word I said. Friends turned their backs, we had to move, and I didn’t even finish school! – I’m sorry for judging you before I knew the whole story, – the woman admitted, ashamed. – But the baby isn’t to blame. – Dasha, we need to have a serious word! – Natalia swept into the room, dragging her husband. – I’ll have to ask visitors to leave. This is a family matter! The woman gave a sympathetic look and left, closing the door firmly behind her. – I won’t let you ruin my perfect plan. Leave the baby here and you’re not coming home again. Where will you go then? Your dear granny’s dead, her flat went to your uncle. You’ll be out on the street. – No, she’s coming home with me. – An elegant woman entered the room. Dasha’s eyes lit up with joy. – Mum! You came! – Of course I did, I couldn’t leave you in trouble, – Albina hugged her tight. – If you’d told me, I would’ve brought you home long ago. I only thought it would be easier here for you to finish school. – I thought you didn’t want me, – Dasha sobbed. Despite everything, she was still just a child. – Someone kept telling me you wanted nothing to do with me. My presents were returned unopened, I could never get through to you. I thought I’d upset you. But never mind, – her mother said briskly, wiping away tears. – We’ll go home, and you’ll forget all about this… ****************************************************** Dasha left. Natalia took the baby, hoping for an easy ride. But when the powerful grandfather found out, he came and took the little girl for himself, making Makar finally own up to paternity. As for Dasha, she’s happy at last. She’s with the one person who’ll always help and never betray her…

The Unwanted Child “How would you like to name your baby girl?” The elderly doctor smiled with professional courtesy at his young patient. “We haven’t decided on a name yet,” interjected Natalie, sitting on the chair beside the bed. “It’s a big decision—Dasha needs time to think.” “I don’t want to name her at all,” the young mother suddenly replied. “I’m not going to keep her. I’m going to sign her away.” “How can you even say that?” the older woman jumped up, shooting a furious glare at the girl before turning to the doctor. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Of course we’ll take the baby home.” “I’ll come back later—you should rest.” The doctor was clearly uninterested in witnessing the family drama. As the door closed behind him, Dasha’s mother unleashed a torrent of rebukes. “How dare you say such a thing? What will everyone think of us? We’ve already had to move to this city just to keep things quiet—this baby belongs in our family.” “And whose fault is that?” Dasha looked her stepmother square in the eye. “If you’d listened to me back then, none of this would have happened. I’d have finished school and moved on. If you want this baby so much, you take her.” She turned to face the wall, ending the conversation. Natalie tried a few more minutes to change her mind, but a nurse poked her head in and told her to leave; the patient needed rest. Dasha was left alone, muffling her sobs in the pillow, wishing it would all be over. A timid knock at the door made her wipe her tears. She took a deep breath and said, “Come in.” She expected a nurse, or maybe her father, but the woman who entered was a complete stranger. “Can I help you?” Dasha struggled to maintain her mask of calm. “I overheard… completely by accident! The doctors were chatting just outside my room.” The woman hesitated, clearly reluctant to ask her question. “Yes, I want to give up my baby. That’s what you want to know?” “I saw how your mother—” “She’s not my mother,” Dasha cut in sharply. “Just a stepmother, and a self-important one at that. My real mum works abroad.” “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” the woman faltered. “It’s just… I have three kids myself and I can’t understand your reasons. I grew up in care and I’m so scared for your little girl… she hasn’t done anything wrong.” “Little ones like her get adopted quickly, or so I’ve heard,” Dasha shrugged. “I can’t make myself even hold her, let alone more. If Natalie hadn’t interfered, I wouldn’t be here.” “But you’re old enough to make your own decisions now, over fifteen, right?” “It’s such a disgrace!” Dasha mimicked her stepmother’s voice. “How will we ever show our faces in town?” “I don’t understand…” “I’ll tell you,” Dasha smirked. “Maybe then you’ll stop judging me.” ******************************************************** Dasha’s final year of school was an utter disaster. Not only had her beloved Pasha been called up for service, but a new boy arrived in their class—a posh Londoner, banished to their small town by his influential father as punishment for too many ‘adventures’. He pestered all the girls, not after a relationship but a ticked box for his list. That’s why his father had sent him away in the first place—he was damaging the family’s reputation. Makar showered them with expensive gifts, took them to clubs and fancy restaurants. One by one, the girls gave in, each thinking she’d become the ‘prince’s fiancée.’ Dasha held her ground. She was in love—no one but Pasha existed for her. Soon enough, it seemed Makar realised she was off-limits and moved on. Or so she thought. She was wrong. At a friend’s birthday party in December, the entire class gathered, Makar among them. But he wasn’t there to wish the birthday girl. In the thick of the party, Dasha took a call in the hallway. When she returned, Makar was sitting at her place. She thought nothing of it—until she began to feel ill… In the morning, Dasha barely managed to open her eyes. Next to her lay Makar, grinning smugly. “Well, you finally gave in,” he said, as if nothing had happened. “Think of it as compensation. I always knew your precious Pasha was a fool.” Getting home was a struggle for Dasha. Her whole world was spinning. Passersby shot her looks of disdain. She rang the bell—her stepmother would be home. “Where have you been?” Natalie snapped. “You didn’t come home, ignored your phone, and just look at the state you’re in! If your father saw you like this—” “Call a doctor, and the police,” Dasha interrupted. “I want to file a report. Let them arrest him.” Natalie stiffened. Putting two and two together, she came to her own conclusion. “Who?” “Makar, obviously—I couldn’t imagine anyone else being so brazen. Call them, or I will.” “Wait.” Natalie calculated rapidly; she always looked for personal advantage. “He’ll just wriggle out of it. We’ll do something else—I’ll contact his father. He can pay us off.” “Are you mad?” Dasha was aghast. “I want justice, not hush money! I’ll go to the police myself.” “You’re going nowhere!” Natalie grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room. Dasha was too weak to resist. “You’ll be blamed, the whole village will gossip. I’ll sort everything.” Dasha had lost her phone somewhere, or maybe left it at her friend’s. The door was locked. Her head reeled—all she wanted was to lie down… A few days later, Dasha went to her grandmother’s, a hundred kilometres away. The old woman knew nothing—Dasha just pretended everything was normal. A month later, Dasha’s whole world collapsed—she was pregnant from that night. Natalie was overjoyed. This baby would mean financial security! Granddad would pay up handsomely to make the problem go away. Just say nothing until after five months… No one ever asked Dasha what she wanted. When she suggested having the baby adopted, Natalie exploded in a furious tantrum and refused to let her out of her sight. Granddad was not happy, but produced the cash, and promised more. ********************************************** “So now you see,” Dasha finished. “I’ve been through hell because of this baby. Pasha dumped me—he didn’t believe a word. Friends abandoned me. I had to move, didn’t even finish school!” “I’m sorry—I was judging you without knowing the facts,” murmured the woman. “But the little girl still isn’t to blame.” “Dasha, we need to talk!” Natalie appeared, dragging her husband along. “If you don’t mind, this is a family matter.” The stranger gave Dasha a sympathetic look and left, closing the door tightly. “I won’t let you spoil my plans. If you leave the baby here, don’t bother coming back home. Where will you go? Your precious gran is gone, her flat’s your uncle’s now. Will you beg on the streets?” “No, she’ll come with me.” An elegantly dressed woman swept into the room. Dasha’s eyes lit up with hope. “Mum! You came!” “Of course I did. I couldn’t leave you alone,” said Albina, wrapping her daughter in a hug. “If you’d told me everything earlier, I’d have taken you home ages ago. I wanted you to finish school here, thought it’d be easier.” “I thought you didn’t want me,” Dasha sobbed, suddenly a child again. “Someone told me you didn’t want to see me. Presents came back unopened, you never answered… I thought you couldn’t forgive me. But never mind,” Albina said cheerfully, wiping Dasha’s tears. “We’ll go home together and start fresh…” ********************************************************************* Dasha left. Natalie, hoping for a comfortable life, took the baby. But when the influential grandfather found out, he came and claimed his granddaughter. Makar, reluctantly, had to acknowledge the child. Dasha, though, is happy at last—living with the one person she can truly trust to always be there for her.

Who Slept in My Bed and Creased the Sheets… A Story My Husband’s Mistress Was Barely Older Than Our Daughter – Chubby Cheeks, Innocent Eyes, a Nose Piercing (He Forbade Our Daughter When She Wanted One). It Was Impossible to Be Angry at Her – I Looked at Her Bare Blue Legs and Cropped Jacket and Wanted to Say, “If You Plan to Have Kids With That Idiot, Buy a Winter Coat and Put Tights On Under Your Jeans.” Of Course, I Said Nothing. I Handed Her the Keys, Grabbed My Bags, and Headed to the Bus Stop. “Excuse Me, Mrs. Johnson, What’s That Thing Under the Kitchen Counter?” She Called After Me. “Is It For Storing Dishes?” Unable to Hold Back, I Shot Over My Shoulder: “I Usually Hide My Husband’s Mistresses’ Bodies There, But You Can Use It For Plates.” Without Waiting for Her Reaction or Looking at Her Shocked Face, I Walked Down the Stairs, Pleased With Myself. Well, That’s It – Twenty Years of Marriage Down the Drain. It Was our Daughter Who First Discovered Her Dad’s Mistress. She Skipped School, Came Home Expecting Nobody, and Found the Young Nymph Drinking Cocoa From Her Favorite Mug – Wearing Nothing But a Few Shreds, With Dad Splashing in the Shower. Smart Girl as She Is, She Immediately Called Me: “Mum, I Think Dad Has a Mistress and She’s Wearing My Slippers and Drinking From My Mug!” Just Like a Fairy Tale, I Thought – My Daughter Was Upset, But More Because Someone Touched Her Things Than Because of Her Dad’s Betrayal. Who Slept in My Bed and Creased the Sheets… Unlike My Daughter, I Didn’t Take It So Badly. Sure, My Ego Was Bruised – The Girl Was Young and Gorgeous, While I Was Carrying Extra Weight and Cellulite and All The Signs of a Forty-Something. Still, I Felt Relief – No More Night Calls, Weird Work Schedules, Coffee Shop Receipts Where My Husband Never Took Me… He’d Never Been Caught Red-Handed, Always Covering His Tracks And Making Me Feel Like The Guilty One For Suspecting Him. “It Was the First Time,” He Lied. “Like a Comet Fell Out of Nowhere.” That ‘Comet’ Was a Hotel Worker Where He Stayed on Business – She Was Just Twenty, and Apart From a Pretty Face, She Wasn’t Much Else. Not Even Brains – As She Chased Him all the Way to London, Renting a Grubby Room on Savings. So They Met at Our Flat – Easy for Showers and Laundry. No Wonder I Kept Finding the Washing Machine on the ‘Quick Wash’ Setting Instead of ‘Mixed Fabrics’! The Apartment Belonged to My Husband, Inherited From His Father Before Our Wedding, and With Divorce Imminent, My Daughter and I Had to Move Out to My Nan’s Flat on the City’s Edge. My Daughter Complained – How Would She Get to School? “Why Not Stay With Us?” He Suggested – Earning Himself Another Round of Insults. At Least Our Daughter Could Tell Him What She Really Thought Now. The Early Days Were Tough – New Bus Routes, New Shops, Over an Hour to Work and School. But We Settled In – I Changed Jobs, My Daughter Started College, Closer Than School. No Time to Be Sad – Life’s Practicalities and Exams Kept Us Busy, and Once Things Settled, There Was No Room Left for Regret. That Girl, His Mistress, Rang Me Occasionally – Asked What Setting to Bake Pies, Where to Put Dishwasher Tablets. Once She Even Stopped By, Bringing Forgotten Photos Needed For Prom. My Ex Couldn’t (Or Wouldn’t) Come, I Was Ill, and My Daughter Refused Point Blank to Return to the Old Flat – Bad for Her Mental Health. “Nice Place You’ve Got,” She Said Nervously, Looking at Faded Wallpaper and Dated Lamps. I Just Smiled – Yes, Nice Enough, What Can I Say? It Was Modern and Comfortable Over There – I’d Worked Twenty Years for It. Let Them Enjoy It. But That Visit Came Back to Bite Me – One Evening, About a Year Later, The Door Lock Clicked. “For You?” I Asked My Daughter. She Just Stared. On the Threshold Stood That Girl – Red-Eyed, Mascara Trails Down Her Cheeks, Sporting a Gym Bag. “What’s Happened With Steve?” I Asked. “Something Has! I Caught Him With the Secretary! Thought I’d Surprise Him Since He Was Working Late, and…” She Broke Down, Sobbed Like a Child, Face Buried in Palms. “What Do You Want From Me?” I Asked, Eyeing the Bulging Gym Bag. “Can I Stay Here Tonight? I’ve Got No Money. I’ll Take the Train to Mum’s Tomorrow.” “How Will You Get There With No Money?” “I Thought You’d Lend Me Some…” I Didn’t Know Whether to Laugh or Cry. My Daughter Decided For Me: “Get Out!” She Snapped, Adding a Few Choice Words She’d Never Used Before. I Gave Her a Disapproving Look. “Come In, Love,” I Said. “It’s Night – I’m Not Putting You Out On The Street.” Things Got Worse. My Daughter Was So Furious She Announced: It’s Either Me Or Her. I Shrugged – Your Choice, You’re an Adult. Go to Your Dad If You Want. “As If! I’ll Go Stay With Natalie!” I Ordered Her a Taxi For the Night; Then Spent The Evening Comforting The Hapless Mistress With Tea and Calming Drops. Money? I Lent Her, What Else Could I Do – But Not To Stay With Me. Even Drove Her To The Station. She Kept Thanking Me, Apologizing, Swearing She’d Start Over – Get an Education, Avoid Married Men. “Mum Always Said I Was Hopeless. Turns Out She Was Right.” Putting Her on the Train and Waving Goodbye Was A Step Too Far. My Daughter and I Made Up Quickly, Though She Still Couldn’t Understand How I Let That Homewrecker Stay In Our House. I Hugged Her Hairy Head, Smiled and Said: “You’ll Understand When You’re Older.” My Ex-Husband Called a Week Later. He’d Seen the Light, Dumped the Mistress, Ready for a Happy Reunion. “Run Out of Clean Shirts?” I Asked. “Well, Yes,” He Sighed. “She Never Learned To Do Laundry – I’ve Worn Grubby Ones for a Year Now.” Of Course, I Didn’t Take Him Back. Didn’t Gloat, Didn’t Suffer. But I Had To Admit – Something Had Lifted From Me After That Night; My Heart Felt Lighter, I Smiled More. Got a Dog, Walked It in the Evenings. Met a Nice Neighbor – So What If He’s Ten Years Older, I’m No Spring Chicken. And Life Moved On.

The Waiter Rushed Over to Take Away the Kitten, but a Six-Foot-Tall Gentleman Scooped Up the Crying Fluffy Baby and Placed Him on the Next Chair: “A Plate for My Feline Friend! And Your Finest Meat!” “Let’s wear something bold—almost like the young nymphs—and head to a swanky restaurant. Time to show ourselves off and size up the men…” So declared one of the three friends—a headteacher of a prestigious, exclusive private school, always armed with the cleverest words her profession demanded. These “nymphs” were all thirty-five—the perfect age, in their view, for short skirts and blouses that revealed rather than concealed. Deep necklines, flawless makeup, every piece of battle armor in place. The restaurant matched their expectations: posh, elite, and outrageously expensive, but well within their means. With a reserved table, they settled in, basking in admiring looks from men—and resentful glances from their companions. Of course, conversation turned to the main topic: men. Dreams, desires, and requirements. Each dreamed of her ideal—tall, fit, charming, and decidedly wealthy. The kind who’d carry you, indulge whims, spare you dull chores and chatter. And if noble-born, even better. “Just not like… those.” The friends glanced at a trio of cheerful, slightly pudgy men with thinning hair, surrounded by pints, chips, mountains of steak, and enthusiastic talk of football and fishing. Their laughter was loud, genuine, and utterly unrefined. “Dreadful.” “How gauche.” “Ugh.” The verdict was unanimous: uncouth, rough, clearly lacking sophistication and utterly unfit for such dazzling ladies. But then, something happened that changed the night’s tone in an instant. He arrived—stepping out of the latest model red Ferrari. “Lord Charles Saxon Coburg!” the waiter announced with grandeur. The friends perked up like pointer dogs catching a scent. Tall, athletic, with distinguished silver hair and a suit worth more than most homes. Diamond cufflinks and a blindingly white shirt completed the look. “Ahh…” “Oh wow…” “Mmm…” Necks craned, eyes grew bolder. “This is a real man,” one whispered, “A lord, a stunner, and a millionaire,” said the second. “I’ve always dreamed of the Bahamas—since childhood, actually.” The third stayed silent, but her gaze spoke volumes. Within ten minutes, the ladies were invited to the Lord’s table. They strode over grandly, casting condescending glances at other guests—especially at the football-and-steak trio. The Lord was charming, a master conversationalist, spinning tales of lineage, stately homes, and priceless art. Tension simmered between the friends—each knew only one would be invited to continue the night. Dinner was an icebreaker: lobsters, platters of seafood, and rare vintage wine. The ladies gazed dreamily at the Lord, imagining a future far beyond the dining room. Rosy-cheeked and glowing, they were at their best. The Lord shone too—cracking high-society jokes and sharing stories of the elite. At this point, it hardly mattered where he’d invite them next. Outside, the restaurant had a small garden. The irresistible aroma wafted out, and soon a tiny, skinny grey kitten tiptoed in—hungry, hopeful, and sitting right at the Lord’s feet. But the Lord’s face twisted in disgust. He callously pushed the kitten away with his shoe. The little one skidded several feet, bumping into the table leg beside the football pals. Silence blanketed the restaurant. “I despise filthy, mongrel creatures,” the Lord declared loudly. “At my estate, we have purebred hounds and the finest horses.” The waiter rushed to appease him: “We’ll sort it out right away, our apologies…” He headed for the football table but one of the men—a giant, nearly two meters tall, red-faced and fists clenched—was already up. His friends tried to restrain him. He silently lifted the kitten onto a chair. “A plate for my furry friend!” he thundered. “Your very best meat. Now.” The waiter paled and sprinted to the kitchen as applause rippled through the room. One of the “nymphs” stood and joined the titan, declaring: “Move over, and get a lady a whisky.” The Lord was speechless. Moments later, the other two friends joined them, bestowing the Lord with icy glares. Not all left together that night. In one group: a man, a woman, and a grey kitten. Time passed. Today the first friend is married to the giant—now the owner of a major investment firm. Her two friends wed his mates, both renowned solicitors. The three weddings were held the same day. Their lives are different now—nappies, cooking, housework. All have daughters born close together. But to enjoy the old favourite restaurant, they send their husbands off to football or fishing, call for a babysitter, and meet again—to talk about womanly matters, and men. As for Lord Charles Saxon Coburg—he was arrested a year later, exposed in a high-profile trial as a romance scammer who duped countless women. Real men, thankfully, are a different breed. I’m speaking of those three—chubby, balding, unpolished, and lacking airs, but truly noble-hearted. That’s just how it is. There’s no other way.

Julia Steps Off the Bus With Heavy Bags and Heads Home – “I’m Back!” She Calls Out as Her Family Rushes to Greet Her Saying They Felt She Was Coming. That Night, While They Sit Around the Big Family Table, a Knock at the Door Brings Unexpected Guests. Julia Looks at the Visitors and Can’t Believe Her Eyes Julia Sat Silently and a Bit Sad, Gazing Out the Window as the Bus Carried Her Away from Her Beloved Village. On Her Lap Was a Large Checkered Bag Packed with Essentials—Plus a Bundle of Warm Pasties from Grandma, Filling the Bus with the Tempting Aroma of Fresh Baking. Unable to Resist, Julia Unzipped Her Bag, Pulled Out Two Golden, Crispy Pasties, and Offered One to a Young Man Nearby Who Had Kindly Given Up His Window Seat for Her. “Want one?” she asked. “Yes, please!” he replied eagerly, swallowing hard. “I’m Julia,” she introduced herself. “And I’m Stephen! Heading off to uni?” he asked. “Yep! There’s no college or uni close to home—only tractor school, and I’m definitely not a tractor driver!” “I’m off to uni too,” sighed Stephen. “But I like the countryside.” It was a four-hour journey to the city. By the time they arrived, the two had chatted and become friends, exchanging numbers before heading their separate ways. *** The hustle of entrance exams passed swiftly—both Julia and Stephen were accepted at their chosen universities and over the moon. Worries and exam nerves were behind them; the future was full of big plans and hope. One day Stephen called Julia: “Julia, fancy celebrating our exams at a café?” Julia was delighted, not least because she liked Stephen—he was easygoing, genuine, and comfortingly familiar, so different from the city types. They met in the city centre at a quirky café called “Hippo.” They watched sightseeing boats cut across the river as tour guides bellowed into megaphones. “I wonder why this café is called Hippo?” Julia mused. Stephen laughed. “Probably because if you keep eating the cakes here, you’ll turn into one!” “Sounds about right!” Julia snorted, munching her cake. Soon “Hippo” became their regular spot, and setting up dates was: “Let’s meet at our table.” That evening, they shared their first, unforgettable kiss—tender and passionate. Time passed; Julia grew closer to Stephen than anyone else, except her parents. One day Stephen suggested, “Julia, move in with me! Let’s marry in summer.” “Is this your proposal?” Julia teased. “Sort of!” “Then I’m supposed to ask, like in that old film, remember? ‘Aren’t you worried I’ll always be in your sight?’” “Flutter around as much as you like!” Stephen grinned, twirling Julia round in the street. Julia returned to the flat she shared with friends glowing with happiness. “You’re radiating joy! Spill!” Vera, her flatmate, asked. “Oh girls, I might move in with Stephen soon!” Julia sang. “Are we invited to the wedding?” Marina cheered. “The wedding’s for summer! We’ll just live together for now.” “Don’t rush it, Julia—lots can happen before summer!” Vera warned. Julia laughed it off. “Vera, you’re such an old soul! Everyone does this now.” “I’m not old—I just don’t trust these informal arrangements. My mum’s a solicitor—I know how they end…” Vera grumped. “Alright, Vera, don’t be mad—I was kidding,” Julia soothed. *** Julia brushed off Vera’s worries as nonsense—who needs a stamp in a passport when love is so rare and true? Yet, the conversation nagged at her, making her hesitate about moving in with Stephen. Eventually, he stopped asking. One December day, Julia and her friends wandered the festive city, shivering in the sparkling snow. Spotting “Hippo,” Julia chirped, “Let’s warm up inside—Stephen and I love it here!” “Look—Stephen’s already there!” Marina remarked glumly, nodding at the window. Julia saw Stephen laughing with a younger girl across “their” table… She turned away, quietly: “I think I’ll head home.” “We’re coming too!” Vera and Marina chorused. Back at the flat, her friends tried to reassure Julia, but the way Stephen looked at the girl stuck in her mind. Their table, their café—it felt like a betrayal. Julia stopped answering Stephen’s calls and asked her friends to turn him away at home. When he finally caught her at uni he asked, “Julia, what’s wrong? Are you seeing someone else?” Julia shot him a furious look. “You’re asking? Nice job flipping it! Let go, I’m late for my exam.” And with that, she slipped into the institute, leaving Stephen baffled. *** Julia finished her exams early and went home for Christmas, sure her family’s cosy house would help her get over the hurt and betrayal. And indeed, her spirits lifted stepping off the village bus, surrounded by diamond-sparkling snow and old trees twinkling in the winter sun. Her arms full of gifts for her family, she smiled at the familiar scene—the old Christmas tree outside was even decorated, just like when she was little. “Happy Christmas!” she called, stepping inside. “Julia, darling!” her family cried, rushing to hug her. “We knew you were coming!” It was a joyful day—though winter nights arrived early, Dad cheered, “Let’s light up the tree!” That evening, as they sat at their big family table, someone knocked at the door. “Probably neighbours dropping in,” Mum shrugged, heading to answer it. But she returned not alone—she was with Father Christmas and his helper. “Stephen?” Julia gasped, peering at Father Christmas and the helper—the same young woman she’d seen at the café. “How did you find me? What is all this?” Stephen burst out laughing, the girl too. “Your friends told me where to find you. Also, let me introduce you—this is my younger sister, Irene!” “My sister?” said Stephen. “Yes, sister!” Irene confirmed. “We do look alike, if you check!” Julia felt relief flood her—she scolded herself for assuming the worst instead of simply asking. Stephen then knelt. “Since your whole family’s here, with my own kin as witness, Julia, will you marry me?” He offered her a little box with a ring. “Yes—yes, of course!” Julia cried, hugging him. “This is the best Christmas ever!” “And there’ll be lots more wonderful Christmases together—just promise we’ll talk through misunderstandings from now on!” Stephen said. “I promise!” Julia beamed.

📌 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