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He Hated His Wife. He Hated Her… They Had Spent 15 Years Together. For 15 Whole Years, He Saw Her Every Morning, But Only in the Past Year Had Her Habits Begun to Drive Him Mad—Especially One: Stretching Out Her Arms in Bed and Saying, “Good Morning, Sunshine! Today Will Be a Wonderful Day.” Simple Words, Yet Her Thin Hands and Sleepy Face Filled Him with Disgust. She Would Rise, Gaze Out the Window for a Few Moments, Take Off Her Nightdress, and Head to the Bathroom. Once, at the Start of Their Marriage, He Had Admired Her Body and That Freedom That Borderlined on Indecency. Even Now, Though Her Figure Remained Lovely, the Sight of Her Nakedness Filled Him with Rage. Once, He Even Wanted to Push Her to Hurry Her “Waking-Up Process,” But He Only Managed to Bark, “Hurry Up, I’ve Had Enough!” She Didn’t Rush Through Life. She Knew of His Affair and Even Knew the Girl He’d Been Seeing for Three Years. Time Had Scabbed Over the Wounds to Her Pride, Leaving Only a Lingering Sadness. She Forgave His Anger, Indifference, and Foolish Attempts at Recapturing His Youth, But She Refused to Let Anyone Rush Her Life, Savoring Every Minute. That Was How She’d Lived Since Discovering Her Illness. Month by Month, It Was Devouring Her. The First Urge Was to Tell Everyone About Her Fate, Parse the Brutal Truth Into Pieces to Share with Family. But After Spending Those First Terrifying Days Alone, Contemplating Her Mortality, She Decided to Keep Her Secret. As Life Slipped Away, She Gained a Kind of Wisdom, Learning to Simply Observe. She Found Solace in a Little Village Library, a Ninety-Minute Walk Away, Where She’d Disappear Between Bookshelves Labelled “Mysteries of Life and Death” and Seek Answers in Books. He Came to His Lover’s House—Warm, Bright, Familiar. They’d Been Together Three Years, Bound by an Obsessive Love that Saw Him Burning with Jealousy One Moment and Humiliated the Next, Unable to Breathe Away from Her Young Body. Today, He Made up His Mind: Divorce. Why Torture All Three of Them? He No Longer Loved His Wife—He Couldn’t Even Remember Liking Her. He Fished Out Her Photo from His Wallet and Tore It to Shreds, a Symbol of His Decision. They Agreed to Meet in a Restaurant—The Same Where They’d Celebrated Their 15th Anniversary Six Months Before. She Arrived First. He, Meanwhile, Stopped at Home to Hunt for the Divorce Papers, Tearing Through Drawers in a Frenzied Search. There He Found a Dark Blue Sealed Folder He’d Never Noticed. He Tore It Open, Expecting Anything—Even Blackmail Photos. But Instead, He Found Medical Reports and Official Hospital Documents, All with Her Name. Like a Jolt of Electricity, Realization Hit: She Was Seriously Ill. He Googled the Diagnosis, Reading the Chilling Prognosis: “6 to 18 Months.” He Checked the Dates—She’d Been Tested Six Months Ago. The Only Thing That Echoed in His Mind Was, “6 to 18 Months.” She Waited Forty Minutes at the Restaurant. No Answer to Her Calls. She Paid and Left. It Was a Glorious Autumn Day; The Sun Warmed the Soul. “How Beautiful Life Is, How Wonderful to Be on This Earth, with the Sun and the Woods.” For the First Time Since Learning of Her Illness, She Felt Sorry for Herself. Somehow, She’d Managed to Keep Her Terrible Secret from Husband, Family, Friends. She’d Tried to Give Them Peace, Even at the Cost of Her Own Happiness. Soon, All That Would Remain of Her Would Be a Memory. As She Walked, She Saw the Hope and Anticipation in People’s Eyes—Winter Coming, and Then After, Surely, Spring! She Would Not Have That Again. The Injustice Boiled Over in a Torrent of Tears… Back Home, He Paced the Room. For the First Time, He Felt Physically Overwhelmed by the Fragility of Life. He Remembered His Wife as She’d Been, When They Were Young and Hopeful. He Realized He Had Loved Her Then, That Their 15 Years Had Vanished in an Instant, and That Maybe, Just Maybe, Everything Was Still Ahead—Happiness, Youth, Life… In Her Final Days, He Became Devoted, Never Leaving Her Side, Transformed by a Newfound Love and Terror at Losing Her. He Would Have Traded Places with Her, If Only It Could Save Her. If Anyone Reminded Him That Just A Month Before He’d Loathed Her And Planned Divorce, He’d Have Said, “That Wasn’t Me.” He Saw Her Struggle to Let Go, Saw Her Crying at Night When She Thought He Slept. He Understood: There Is No Worse Punishment Than Knowing the Date of Your Own End. He Watched Her Fighting for Life, Grasping to Even the Most Delusional Hopes. She Died After Two Months. He Covered the Path from Home to Grave with Flowers and Wept Like a Baby as Her Coffin Was Lowered, Aging a Thousand Years in a Single Day… At Home, Under Her Pillow, He Found a Note, a Wish She’d Written on New Year’s Eve: “To Be Happy With Him for the Rest of My Days.” People Say All New Year’s Wishes Come True. Maybe It’s True—That Same Year, He’d Written: “To Be Free.” In the End, Each Got Exactly What, For So Long, They Thought They Wanted…

I despised my wife. Despised her Wed been together for fifteen years. Fifteen whole years of my life

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A Husband Worth More Than Bitter Grievances “Igor, that was the last straw! That’s it, we’re getting divorced! And don’t bother dropping to your knees this time—it won’t work!” With a final flourish, I ended our marriage. Naturally, Igor didn’t believe me. My husband was sure things would play out as they always did: he’d kneel, beg forgiveness, buy me yet another ring, and all would be forgiven. It had worked before, more than once. But this time, I was determined to break the chains of wedlock for good. My fingers—pinky included—were weighed down with rings, but my life had felt empty. Igor had begun to drink more heavily and more often. And yet, it all had started as a romance. My first husband, Eddie, disappeared without a trace. That was during the rough and tumble 1990s—a frightening time. Eddie hadn’t exactly been easy to live with. He always seemed to be looking for trouble. As they’d say, “eyes like a hawk, wings like a sparrow.” If things didn’t go his way, all hell would break loose. I’m sure he was killed in some back-alley dispute. I never heard from him again. I was left with two daughters: Lizzie, five, and Rachel, just two. Five years passed after his mysterious disappearance. I thought I’d go mad—I had truly loved Eddie, despite his temper. We were inseparable. I was sure my life was over, that I’d simply raise my daughters and forget my own happiness. But fate had other plans… Those were tough times. I worked in a factory, where “pay” had become a pile of toasters and irons. On weekends, I sold them down at the market, just to put food on the table. One freezing winter’s day, as I shivered selling irons, a stranger approached me with real concern. “Are you cold, love?” he asked gently. “However did you guess?” I managed a weak joke, though my teeth chattered. But his presence warmed me up somehow. “Sorry, silly question. Why don’t we get you a hot cuppa? I can help you carry these if you like.” “Deal,” I croaked. “Otherwise, I’ll freeze to death out here.” We never did make it to a café. I took this stranger—Igor, he introduced himself—closer to my flat and asked him to wait at the entrance while I picked up my girls from nursery. My legs felt numb from the cold, but inside, I was already thawing. When I returned, kids in tow, I saw him from a distance, pacing and smoking. I thought, “I’ll offer him some tea at home—and then, whatever happens, happens!” Igor helped bring the irong-laden bag up all six flights of stairs—no working lift, of course. By the time I reached the third floor with my girls, Igor was already on his way back down. But I stopped him. “Hold on, my rescuer. You’re not leaving until I’ve given you some proper tea!” I grabbed his sleeve with my icy hand. “Are you sure? Won’t I be in the way with the kids?” “Not at all! Here, take the girls’ hands, I’ll dash ahead and get the kettle on,” I assured him. I didn’t want to lose him. While we chatted over tea, Igor even offered me a job as his assistant. The pay was better than a year’s worth of irons from the factory! I nodded gratefully, honestly wanting to kiss his hands for such an offer… Igor, as it turned out, was separated and in the midst of a divorce, with a son from his first marriage. Before long, we were married. He adopted my girls, and life felt like a constant dance. We bought a four-bedroom flat, filled it with luxury furniture and gadgets, then built a country house. We spent every summer by the seaside. Life was a cherry on top of a cake… Seven years of bliss passed. Perhaps, after reaching the top, Igor turned increasingly to drink. At first, I didn’t react. After all, he worked hard and needed to unwind. But when he started to drink at work, I grew uneasy. Nothing worked to stop him. Now, I should mention—I’m a bit of a daredevil. To distract Igor from the booze, I decided to… have another child with him. I was already thirty-nine. My friends just laughed when I told them. “Go for it, Tanya! Maybe we’ll all become mums at forty!” I’d always say, “If you get rid of a baby, you’ll regret it forever. But if you have a child, even unexpected, you’ll never be sorry.” Igor and I ended up with twins. Suddenly, we were raising four daughters! But Igor kept drinking. Eventually, craving peace and a return to nature, I convinced him to sell the flat and the house, and move to a village. We opened a lovely café. Igor became an avid hunter, buying guns and all the gear. There was plenty of game nearby. Things were okay—until Igor had another serious binge. I don’t know what was in his drink that night, but he went berserk! Smashed all the china and furniture, then came for us, firing his shotgun into the ceiling! The girls and I ran to hide at a neighbour’s. It was a nightmare. The next morning, it was deathly quiet. We crept home, but the scene was grotesque. Everything broken; nowhere to sit, eat, or sleep. Igor lay passed out on the floor. I gathered what little we had left and led my daughters to my mum’s house. She lived nearby. “Oh Tanya, what are you going to do with all these girls?” she lamented. “Go back to your husband. Families go through tough times—it’ll all be ground to flour in the end.” Mum was old-school: best keep your man, no matter the cost. A few days later, Igor showed up. That’s when I finally ended things. Oddly, he couldn’t remember a thing of his “performance.” He thought I was making it up. But I was done. I cut all ties. Burned my bridges. I had no idea how we’d live, but it was better to go hungry and be alive, than end up killed in a drunken rage. We sold the café cheaply and got out of town. We moved to the next village, to a tiny house. The older girls found jobs, and eventually both married. The twins were in year five. All of them loved Dad Igor, kept in touch, and kept me up to date with his life. Igor begged me to take him back through the girls. They pleaded, “Mum, give it a rest. Dad’s so sorry—think about yourself, you’re not twenty-five anymore.” But I stayed firm. I wanted calm, uneventful days. Two years went by. Then I started to miss Igor. Loneliness ate away at me. All those rings he gave me, I had to pawn; never managed to buy them back. I missed the life we’d had. There had been love in our house. Igor had loved all our girls, was genuinely sorry, a good husband when sober. What more could I want? Now even my eldest daughters only called—they never visited. Time passes, and the young have their lives. My twins would soon grow, and I’d be left alone. Daughters, like goslings—feathered up and quick to fly the nest. So, I prompted the twins to ask their dad about his life. Any new woman on the scene? They found out he was living and working in another city, sober as a judge, and single. Left them his address… just in case. Long story short, we’ve been back together for five years now. I did say I was a bit of an adventurer…

A HUSBAND DEARER THAN BITTER REGRET James, that was the last straw! Thats it, were getting divorced!

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When Beata Discovered She Was Pregnant, Her Family Was Shocked—They Couldn’t Accept That She Was With Someone They Believed Wouldn’t Be Around for Long: The Story of an Ordinary Girl from Birmingham, Her Unexpected Love With Roni From Ghana, and Their Struggles With Family, Culture, and Acceptance Across Three Continents

When Emily found out she was expecting, her family was utterly taken aback. They werent keen on the idea

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The Dog Was Almost Resigned, Preparing to Leave This Cruel World Behind…

The dog had almost given up; she was ready to leave this cruel world behind Emily had lived for years

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My Son Spent Years Searching for the Right Woman to Marry, and I Never Questioned His Choices. When He Finally Turned 30, He Met Emily—She Seemed Absolutely Perfect for Him. Every day I’d hear how kind and beautiful she was, and it was clear my son was truly in love. I liked Emily myself. With real passion, my son would tell me and his friends all about her wonderful qualities—she seemed ideal, and he didn’t hesitate to marry her. As a loving mother, I wholeheartedly supported his decision. Planning the wedding was no small feat, but my friends were incredible. The bride had wonderful parents, and we all got on brilliantly from the start. At first, everything was lovely, but over time things began to change. Their marriage started unraveling with more frequent misunderstandings. I knew it was only their first year of marriage and assumed it would get better, but I worried because I so wanted them to be happy together. One evening truly rattled me. Late at night, my son arrived at my door with his belongings, telling me Emily had thrown him out and he had nowhere else to go. He stayed with me for a few days, and Emily never once came by to try and talk things out. This started happening repeatedly. When my daughter-in-law told me she was pregnant, I decided to speak with them both and offer advice to help them avoid future misunderstandings. Unfortunately, it only made things worse. Their arguments became more frequent, and my son spent more and more nights at my place. I could tell he was struggling; he wasn’t the happy man he once was, and disappointment was written all over his face. Seeing my son trapped in such an unhappy marriage was unbearable, so I advised him to consider whether it was worth staying. I told him he could be a wonderful father even if they lived apart. That’s exactly what happened—he soon filed for divorce. Shortly afterward, Emily came to me for help. She begged me to convince my son to withdraw the divorce papers, not wanting to break up their family. I told her many times she should look after her family. She accused me of interfering and claimed I was destroying her marriage. Now I wonder if I was wrong to push my son toward divorce. His wife dislikes me, and he’s becoming more distant too. Maybe they still love each other? Living apart isn’t good, but living together wasn’t working either.

My son spent many years searching for the right woman to make his wife, and I never once questioned his choices.

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My Son Spent Years Searching for the Right Woman to Marry, and I Never Questioned His Choices. When He Turned 30, He Finally Met Abigail—She Seemed Perfect for Him. Almost every day, I heard how lovely and beautiful she was, and it was clear that my son was truly in love. I liked Abigail as well. With great enthusiasm, my son would tell me and his friends about all her wonderful qualities—he thought she was the perfect woman for him, so he didn’t hesitate to marry her. As a loving mother, I fully supported his decision. Planning the wedding was no small feat, but my friends were fantastic, and the bride’s parents were wonderful people—we got along from day one. Everything was beautiful at first, but as time went on, things started to change. Their marriage began to fall apart and disagreements became more frequent. I knew it was only their first year together and hoped it would all work out eventually, but I worried; all I wanted was for their marriage to be successful and happy. Then, one evening, something truly unsettled me. Late at night, my son arrived with his belongings—he told me he had nowhere to stay because his wife had thrown him out. He spent a few days at my house, and Abigail never once came to try to sort things out. This kept happening over and over again. When my daughter-in-law told me she was pregnant, I decided to have a talk with both of them. I wanted to offer advice to help them avoid future misunderstandings. It ended up making things even worse. Their quarrels became more frequent, and my son began staying at my place even more often. I could see how unhappy he was; he was no longer the cheerful man he used to be—his disappointment was written all over his face. I couldn’t stand seeing my son stuck in an unhappy marriage, so I advised him to consider whether it was worth staying together. He could be a wonderful dad, even if he lived separately. Not long after, he filed for divorce. Soon after, Abigail came to me asking for help. She wanted me to persuade my son to call off the divorce, as she didn’t want to break up their family. More than once, I encouraged her to fight for her marriage. It’s hard for me to watch them go through this, knowing it’s about my own child, and then she accuses me of interfering and making things worse. Now, I’m not sure—I wonder if I did the right thing by encouraging my son to get divorced. His wife doesn’t like me, and he is drifting further away from me, too. Maybe they still love each other? Living apart isn’t good, but living together wasn’t, either.

My son spent quite some time searching for the right woman to marry, but I never questioned his choices.

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051

She Was Quick to Scold Me in Front of All the Neighbours—My Mother-in-Law’s Garden Drama Left Me Furious and Packing My Bags —“What do you think you’re doing?” hollered my mother-in-law, standing amid the flowerbeds. “This is an absolute disgrace! I raised seven children and never had a single weed!” The neighbours rushed to their fences, eager to listen and gossip. Taking advantage of her audience, my mother-in-law voiced her complaints at full volume while I stood there speechless. At last, exhausted by her own tirade, she took a deep breath and declared, loud enough for everyone on the street to hear: I said nothing. I walked past her, holding my little one tightly. Back inside, I packed all the things she’d need into a box, as well as my son’s and my own. Without a word, I left. Three days later, she called: “What did you do with all the stuff the doctor prescribed? I asked our neighbour to buy some, but she said one jar is awfully expensive. And the rest is in a foreign language, so she won’t touch it. So what do I do now? You just up and left, took offence for no reason, and now I’m left here to die?” I didn’t answer. I turned off my phone and removed the SIM card. That was it. I was done—physically and emotionally drained. A year ago, just before my son was born, my husband died in a car crash on an icy road. Memories of his funeral and the ambulance fade in and out, but I remember waking up the next morning as a new mother, numb and despondent. Life felt pointless without my beloved husband. I fed and rocked my son because that’s what I was told to do, but nothing brought joy. Then the phone rang. “Your mother-in-law isn’t well. They say she won’t survive long without her son.” My decision was instant. I sold my flat in London, invested part of the proceeds in building a new home for my son’s future, and went to care for my mother-in-law. This year, I merely existed. There was no time for sleep, between my grieving mother-in-law and restless baby, both needing my round-the-clock care. Thank goodness I had money. I brought in leading specialists from across the country to treat her, bought every medicine prescribed, and nursed her back to health. At first, I wheeled her round the house, then the garden. Soon, she was strong enough to walk unaided—at which point… I knew I never wanted to see or hear from her again. Let her find everything she needs for her health on her own now. At least I managed to keep some of my savings. My son and I moved into our new flat. This isn’t the life I expected. I thought living with my late husband’s mother would fill the void, as I am an orphan. But now I know—sometimes, the only lesson for my son is this: not everyone deserves your kindness. Some people care more about a weed-free garden than they do about you.

I managed to get my mother-in-law back on her feet. But honestly, Im furious, all because I didnt clear

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THE UNTAMED HORSE WAS DESTINED FOR SACRIFICE, BUT AN ABANDONED GIRL DID SOMETHING INCREDIBLE…

A wild, untamed horse is doomed to be put down, but an abandoned girl does something astonishing No one

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A Christmas Eve Miracle: How Dad Forgot the Present, Mum Lost Her Patience, and a Stray Kitten Brought Joy, Turning a Family Row into a Magical Holiday Night

A New Years Eve Miracle George, will you kindly explain how on earth you managed to forget?

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He Hated His Wife. Hated Her… They Spent 15 Years Together—15 Long Years Shared Every Morning—But Only in the Last Year Did Her Habits Begin to Deeply Irritate Him, Especially One: Stretching Out Her Arms in Bed and Sleepily Saying, “Good Morning, Sunshine! It’s Going to Be a Wonderful Day.” An Innocent Phrase, Yet Her Slender Hands and Sleepy Face Filled Him With Aversion. She Would Rise, Gaze Through the Window for a Moment, Then Slip Off Her Nightdress and Head to the Bathroom. At the Start of Their Marriage, He Had Admired Everything—Her Body, Her Uninhibited Freedom—But Now Even Her Perfect Figure Only Made Him Angry. Once, He Nearly Pushed Her to Hurry Her Morning Routine, But Managed Only to Bark, “Hurry Up! I’ve Had Enough!” She Didn’t Rush Through Life; She Knew All About His Affair, Knew the Girl Involved, but Her Ego’s Wounds Faded to a Dull Ache of Unwantedness. She Forgave the Aggression, the Neglect, His Desire to Recapture Youth—but She Wouldn’t Let Him Disrupt Her Own Measured Living, Especially After Learning She Was Ill. Month by Month, Her Illness Consumed Her, and Soon It Would Win. Her Strongest Urge Was to Tell Everyone of Her Illness, but After a Dark Night Alone, She Decided: She Wouldn’t Say a Word. She Found Solitude in a Quiet Village Library, Spending Long Hours Surrounded by Books Labeled “Mysteries of Life and Death,” Searching for Answers. Meanwhile, He’d Fled to His Mistress’s Home—A Place of Warmth and Passion, Where He’d Loved Her Madly for Three Years. Today, He Decided to Divorce His Wife. He Tore Up a Photo of Her in a Final Act of Closure. They Agreed to Meet at a Restaurant—The Same One They Celebrated Their Fifteenth Anniversary. She Arrived First; He Searched Through Drawers at Home for Divorce Papers, and Discovered an Unfamiliar, Sealed Navy Folder: Medical Reports, All in Her Name. A Shock Ran Through Him—She Was Ill! He Googled Her Diagnosis: “6 to 18 Months.” It Had Already Been Six Months. She Waited Forty Minutes. He Didn’t Arrive. She Paid, Stepped Out Into a Bright Autumn Day, and For the First Time Felt Self-Pity. All This Time She’d Hidden Her Diagnosis to Spare Her Husband, Her Family, Her Friends. Now, Only Memories Would Remain. As She Walked, She Saw The Happiness in Others’ Eyes at The Promise of Life—Winter, Then Spring—and Burst Into Uncontrollable Tears. He Rushed Around at Home, Finally Gripped by the Swift Passage of Time. He Recalled Their Youth, Their Hopes—Realizing He’d Once Loved Her. In Their Final Days Together, He Gave Her All His Care, Not Wanting to Let Her Go. If You’d Reminded Him a Month Ago How He’d Dreamed of Divorce, He’d Say: “That Wasn’t Me.” He Saw Her Struggle Against the End, Weeping at Nights When She Thought He Slept. She Clung to the Slimmest Hopes. She Died Two Months Later. He Covered the Road from Home to Cemetery with Flowers, Wept as Her Coffin Was Lowered, and Felt a Thousand Years Older. Under Her Pillow, He Found a Note, a New Year’s Wish: “To Be Happy With Him Until the End.” They Say New Year’s Wishes Always Come True—It Seemed True, For That Same Year, He Wrote His Own: “To Be Free.” In the End, Each Got What They Thought They Wanted…

He had grown to loathe his wife. Loathe her… They had spent fifteen years together. Fifteen full