My Son Brought Home His Girlfriend—She Seemed Suspicious A few days ago, my son introduced his girlfriend to our family. She’s only a few years younger than me—about four or five, I’d estimate. My son has fallen in love with someone nearly my age and wants to marry her. What surprised me even more is that she has a young daughter of her own. I welcomed them both warmly. Most importantly, my son is happy, so I am happy too, but I couldn’t help needing to talk to someone about it. After they left, I immediately rang my closest friend—my “cup of tea and calm”—someone who’s always there with support and sound advice, no matter what. I shared the whole story and asked for her guidance on what I should do next. We chatted for quite some time, and we would have talked longer if my son hadn’t returned home. He wanted to talk. I braced myself, thinking I was about to hear yet another shocking development. “Mum, I want her and her daughter to move in with us,” he said. I honestly didn’t know how to react and simply replied, “Yes, let them move in.” He was delighted and went off to tell her the good news. But one thought lingered in my mind—could this woman truly love my son, or is she interested because we own a large home in the heart of London and have a very comfortable life? That night, I fell asleep with those worries. I dreamt of my late husband telling me, “Everything will be all right.” And in the morning, I woke up realising that my son isn’t naive—he understands what’s happening, and even if he makes a mistake, he’ll learn and make things right. My Son Brought Home His New Girlfriend—She Seemed Suspicious

Author Walton MerrittReading 3 minViews 3

A few days ago, my son brought his girlfriend home. She seemed somewhat mysterious. There’s an age difference that caught me off guardshe’s only a handful of years younger than I am, perhaps four or five. My son has fallen deeply for a woman my own age, and now he’s talking about marrying her. To add to the surprise, she has a little daughter in tow.

I greeted them warmly. After all, if my son is happy, then so am I. Still, an uneasiness lingered, and I couldn’t keep it bottled up. The moment they left, I reached straight for the phone and called my oldest friend, Oliviathe one I call my soothing tonic. Whatever storms life throws at me, she’s there, always with a wise word that somehow lifts the fog and steers me right.

I poured my heart out to Olivia, explaining the whole situation and asking for her guidance. We talked for ages, and probably would have carried on longer, if not for the sound of my son returning home. I could see from his face that he wanted to talk, and my nerves tightened, fearing another shock.

Mum, I want her and her little girl to move in with us, he said, his voice honest and calm.

I was stunned, unsure how to respond. But I nodded and replied, Yes, let them move in. Relief washed over his face, and he hurried off to tell them the news.

But doubts still crept into my mind. Was she truly in love with my sonor was it our spacious house in the heart of London, our comfortable life, the security of a family with a bit of old money, that attracted her? Was my son just part of the plan?

Those worries followed me into sleep. That night, I dreamt of my late husband, Henry. In the dream, he smiled gently and said, Its alright.

When morning broke, sunlight filling the room, clarity came. My son isnt foolish. He sees things for what they are, and even if he stumbles, he’ll work out how to set things right. And with that thought, I felt at peaceready to face whatever may unfold.

The Homeless Stranger Nina had nowhere left to go—truly nowhere. “A couple of nights at the train station, maybe. And then?” she thought anxiously. Suddenly, a saving thought struck her: “The allotment! How could I have forgotten? Although… ‘allotment’ is a stretch. More like a half-collapsed old shed. Still, better to go there than the station.” Settling into a commuter train, Nina pressed her head to the cold window and closed her eyes, heavy memories threatening to overwhelm her: two years ago, she lost both parents, left alone without support. With no way to pay for university, she dropped out and got a job at the local market. After all she’d endured, fortune finally smiled on Nina, and soon she met her true love. Tim was kind and decent. Within two months, they had a modest wedding. Life seemed like it should finally go right… but fate had another test in store. Tim suggested they sell Nina’s late parents’ city-centre flat and start a business. He painted such an attractive picture Nina had no doubts—she handed everything over, dreaming that soon they’d be financially secure, maybe even start a family. “If we get back on our feet, we can think about having a baby. I’m longing to be a mum,” she dreamed. But Tim’s business failed. Frequent rows over the lost money quickly tore the couple apart. Eventually, Tim brought home another woman and told Nina to leave. At first, Nina thought about calling the police, but realised there was nothing to accuse her husband of: she’d sold the flat and handed him the cash herself… *** Arriving at the quiet country station, Nina trudged down the deserted platform. Early spring was in the air, but the garden plots were still abandoned. After three years, her family’s little allotment was totally overgrown. “That’s alright, I’ll sort things out. It’ll be just like it was,” she told herself—though she realised nothing could ever truly be the same. She found the old key under the porch, but the sagging wooden door wouldn’t budge. After failing to open it, Nina slumped on the steps and burst into tears. Just then, she spotted smoke and heard noise from the neighbouring plot. Delighted that neighbours were there, Nina rushed over. “Auntie Rae, are you home?” she called. Instead, a scruffy elderly man appeared in the yard, tending a small fire beneath a battered pot. “Who are you? Where’s Auntie Rae?” Nina asked, stumbling back. “Don’t be afraid. Please, don’t call the police. I’m not doing any harm—just staying out here in the garden, not in the house,” he replied in a surprisingly cultured baritone, the voice of an educated man. “Are you homeless?” Nina asked bluntly. “Yes, you’re right,” the man answered softly, looking away. “Do you live nearby? Don’t worry, I won’t trouble you.” “What’s your name?” “Michael.” “Do you have a last name?” “Middle name? Fedorovich,” he replied, surprised. Nina took in Michael Fedorovich: though his clothes were worn, they were clean enough. The man appeared reasonably tidy and well-kept. “I don’t know who to ask for help…” Nina sighed. “What’s happened?” asked the man kindly. “The door’s stuck… I can’t open it.” “Let me take a look,” the homeless man offered. “I’d be grateful,” she said, desperate. As Michael worked on the door, Nina watched and reflected: “Who am I to judge? We’re both homeless—we have more in common than I thought…” “Nina, you’re all set!” Michael said with a smile, pushing the door open. “Wait—are you planning to stay here overnight?” “Well, yes—where else am I meant to go?” “Does the place have heating?” “There’s a stove—I think,” Nina replied uncertainly, realising how little she knew. “And firewood?” “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It’s alright. Go inside. I’ll figure something out,” Michael said decisively. Nina cleaned for about an hour, feeling cold and discouraged. But Michael soon returned with firewood—and to her surprise, she was glad not to be completely alone. Michael got the old stove working. Soon, the cottage was warm. “There you are,” he explained, “just keep adding a little wood as needed. At night, let it die down—the warmth will last.” “And where will you go? The neighbours’?” “Yes. Don’t judge too harshly—I’ll stay on their allotment for a bit. Don’t want to go back to the city or stir up old memories.” “Stay for dinner and a cup of hot tea before you go,” Nina said resolutely. The old man agreed, sitting by the stove while Nina made tea. “Sorry if this is too personal,” she began, “but you don’t seem like the sort of man to end up on the street. What happened?” Michael shared his story: he had been a university lecturer all his life, devoted to research and teaching. Old age and loneliness crept up silently. A year ago, his niece began visiting, promising to look after him if he left his flat to her. Eager for family, he agreed. She convinced him to sell his small city flat for a country house—something she’d ‘already found’—and to deposit the money at the bank. At the bank, she slipped in alone with his bag, and simply didn’t return. When he went to her former home, a stranger answered: his niece had sold up and left months ago. “So that’s my sad tale,” Michael finished. “Since then, I’ve lived rough—I still can’t believe I have no home.” “I thought I was the only one with such luck…,” Nina replied, and told her own story. “Not great, is it? At least I’ve had a life. You’re young, everything’s ahead of you,” he encouraged. “Enough sorrow,” Nina smiled, “let’s have dinner!” She watched him eat, feeling a surge of pity for his loneliness. “How awful, to end up with no one, alone on the streets,” she thought. “Nina, I could help you get back into university. I have friends there—you could study on a scholarship,” Michael offered. “I can’t meet my old colleagues as I am, but I’ll write a letter to the dean—an old friend. He’ll help you.” “Thank you, I’d be so grateful!” “Thank you for supper—and for listening,” Michael said, rising to leave. “Wait. Please don’t go. It’s not right for you to sleep outside. I’ve got three rooms—pick whichever you like. Honestly, I’m scared to stay here on my own, and I don’t know the first thing about this place… Will you stay?” “I will. I won’t leave you alone,” Michael replied, seriously. *** Two years passed… Nina passed her exams and travelled home for her summer break. She still lived part-time at the cottage, while spending term-time at the student halls. “Hello!” she called joyfully, hugging Grandpa Michael. “Nina, my dear! Why didn’t you call? I’d have met you at the station. Did you pass?” Michael asked. “Almost all distinctions!” she beamed. “I bought cake—put the kettle on, let’s celebrate!” They drank tea together and Michael shared his garden plans. “I’ve planted a grapevine—going to build a little summerhouse. It’ll be nice and cosy,” he chatted. “Brilliant. You’re the boss here, do what you like! Me, I’m just visiting,” Nina laughed. Michael Fedorovich was a new man now—no longer alone. He had a home, and a granddaughter in Nina. And Nina, too, had found family—a grandfather who saved her in dark times. She was grateful fate had sent her Grandpa Michael, who became her strength, family, and friend.