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Different Worlds, Different Lives: The Story of Igor and His Extraordinary English Wife—From Fiery Passion, Motherhood, and Ambition, to an Unexpected Journey Through Love, Loss, and Reinvention Amidst Family, Friendship, and Unbridgeable Differences

DIFFERENT PEOPLE My wife, Emily, has always been a bit of an odd one. Absolutely stunning, mind younatural

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I Gifted My Daughter-in-Law the Family Heirloom Ring—A Week Later, I Spotted It for Sale in a High Street Pawn Shop Display

Wear it with care, dear, said Mrs. Grace Hamilton as she delicately passed the velvet box to her daughter-in-law

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The Snap of a Dry Branch Went Unheard Beneath His Foot: How Ivan’s World Shattered and Reassembled, From a Childhood Mishap With Sasha to Life’s Cruel Turns, All the Way to an Old Age Where a Lifetime of “It’ll All Be Alright, Vanya” Echoed in Sasha’s Voice—Through Broken Bones, Threatening Phone Calls, Spilled Soup, and Love That Softens Even the Sharpest Pain

The sharp snap of a dry twig under my foot didnt even register. Instead, the whole world seemed to lurch

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My Husband’s Mistress: When I Confronted “Kitty” at the Cosy Corner Café, Everything I Knew About My Marriage Changed

The Other Woman Emily sat in her car, staring at the satnavs softly glowing screen. This was the right

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My Husband Invited His Old Mate to Crash at Our House for ‘Just a Week’—So I Quietly Packed My Bags and Escaped to a Spa Retreat

My husband brought home his mate to crash for a week. I quietly packed a bag and checked myself into a spa.

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Are you out of your mind? He’s our son, not a stranger! How can you throw him out of his own home?! – shouted the mother-in-law, her fists clenched in fury…

Are you out of your mind? Hes our son, not a stranger! How can you throw him out of this house?

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Get Out of My Flat! — Said Mum “Out,” Mum said, perfectly calmly. Arina smirked and leaned back in her chair—she was sure her mother was speaking to her friend. “Get out of my flat!” Natasha turned to her daughter. “Len, did you see the post?” her friend burst into the kitchen without even taking her coat off. “Arisha gave birth! Three and a half kilos, fifty-two centimetres.” Spitting image of her dad, same snub nose. I’ve already dashed round all the shops, bought baby clothes. Why so glum? “Congratulations, Natasha. I’m happy for you,” Lena stood to pour tea for her friend. “Come on, take your coat off and have a seat.” “Oh, I can’t really stop, I’ve got so much to do,” Natasha perched on the edge of the chair. “So much to manage. Arinka’s such a star, does it all herself, off her own back.” Her husband’s a gem, they’ve got their new flat on a mortgage now, just finishing the renovations. I’m proud of my girl. Raised her well! Lena silently put a cup in front of her friend. Sure, raised her right… If only Natasha knew… *** Exactly two years ago, Arina, Natasha’s daughter, turned up at Lena’s without warning, eyes swollen from tears and hands shaking. “Auntie Len, please, don’t tell Mum. I’m begging you! If she finds out, she’ll have a heart attack,” Arina sobbed, clutching a damp hanky. “Arina, calm down. Tell me properly. What happened?” Lena had been genuinely scared. “I… at work…” Arina snuffled. “A colleague’s money went missing. Fifty thousand.” And the cameras caught me going into the office when no one was there. I swear I didn’t take it, Auntie Len! Honest! But they said: either I pay back the fifty thousand by lunchtime tomorrow, or they go to the police. They have a ‘witness’ who supposedly saw me hide the wallet. It’s a set-up, Auntie Len! But who’ll believe me? “Fifty thousand?” Lena frowned. “Why didn’t you go to your dad?” “I did!” Arina began crying again. “He said it was my own stupid fault and he wouldn’t give me a penny since I’m a lost cause. Told me, ‘Go to the police, let them teach you a lesson.’ He wouldn’t even let me in the house, yelled through the door. Auntie Len, I’ve got no one else. I’ve saved twenty thousand. I need thirty more. “What about Natasha? Won’t you tell her? She’s your mum.” “No! Mum would kill me. She already says I embarrass her, and now this…” She works at a school; everyone knows her. Please, can you lend me the thirty? I swear, I’ll pay you back two or three thousand a week. I’ve already found another job! Please, Auntie Len!” Lena felt deeply sorry for the girl then. Only twenty, just starting out in life, and here’s this stain. Her father had refused help, turned away; her mother really would tear her head off… “Who doesn’t make mistakes in life?” Lena thought. Arina kept crying. “All right,” she said. “I have the money. Was saving it for dental work, but the teeth can wait.” Just promise me it’s the last time. And I won’t breathe a word to your mum, if you’re that scared. “Thank you! Thank you, Auntie Len! You’ve saved my life!” Arina threw her arms around her. The first week, Arina really did bring two thousand. She was cheerful, said it was all sorted, no trouble with the police, new job going well. Then… she just stopped replying to messages. A month, two, three. Lena saw her at Natasha’s during holidays, but Arina acted as if they barely knew each other—just a cold “hello” and that was all. Lena didn’t push. She thought: “Young, must be embarrassed, that’s all.” She decided thirty thousand wasn’t worth wrecking years of friendship with Natasha. Wrote off the debt—just let it go. *** “Are you even listening to me?” Natasha waved a hand in front of Lena’s face. “What are you thinking about?” “Oh, nothing much,” Lena shook her head. “Just my own stuff.” “Listen,” Natasha lowered her voice. “I bumped into Ksenia, remember our old neighbour? She came up to me in the shops yesterday, acting odd. Started asking about Arisha, how she was, if she’d paid back her debts. I had no idea what she meant. I told her Arinka’s independent now, earning her own money. And Ksenia just gave this weird smile and walked off. Do you know if Arisha ever borrowed anything from her?” Lena felt something tighten inside. “I don’t know, Natasha. Maybe just a bit of small change.” “All right, I’d better go. Need to pop into the chemist,” Natasha stood, kissed Lena on the cheek and hurried out. That evening Lena couldn’t hold back. She found Ksenia’s number and called. “Ksenia, hi. It’s Lena. Listen, you saw Natasha today? What debts were you talking about?” A heavy sigh at the other end. “Oh, Lena… I thought you’d know. You’re closer to them than the rest of us. Two years ago Arina came running to me. In tears, red eyes, said she’d been accused of theft at work. Either she paid back thirty thousand or it was prison. Begged me not to tell her mum, cried and pleaded. Well, like an idiot, I gave her the money. She swore she’d give it back in a month. Then she vanished… Lena gripped the phone. “Thirty thousand?” she repeated. “Exactly thirty?” “Yeah. She said she was short by just that much. In the end, I got five hundred back after six months, then nothing. Later, I heard from Vera in the next building—Arina had gone to her too with the same story. Vera lent her forty thousand. And even Galina Petrovna, their old teacher, ended up ‘rescued’ from the police. Gave her fifty thousand. “Wait a sec…” Lena sat down in shock. “You’re saying she asked everyone for the same amount? With the same story?” “Looks like it,” Ksenia’s voice hardened. “The girl took ‘tribute’ from every one of Natasha’s friends. Thirty, forty thousand from each. Made up the theft story, pulled at our heartstrings. We all care about Natasha, so we just kept quiet—didn’t want to upset her. But Arina, it seems, spent the money. Month after, her social media was full of photos from Turkey. “I gave her thirty thousand too,” said Lena quietly. “There you go,” Ksenia snorted. “Makes five, six of us. That’s not a mistake, Lena—it’s a racket. That’s not ‘youthful error,’ that’s outright fraud. And Natasha’s blissfully proud of her girl, totally oblivious. And her daughter? A thief! Lena hung up. She wasn’t bothered about the money—had already written it off. What made her sick was how cunningly and coldly a twenty-year-old girl had manipulated grown women, exploiting their trust. *** Next day Lena went to see Natasha. She hadn’t planned to make a scene. She just wanted to look Arina in the eye. Arina had just come back from the maternity ward and, while the renovations at her mortgage flat were underway, was staying with her mum. “Oh, Auntie Lena!” Arina flashed a strained smile at her mum’s friend. “Come in. Tea?” Natasha bustled at the stove. “Lena, darling, have a seat! Why didn’t you call?” Lena sat at the table opposite Arina. “Arina,” she began calmly. “Yesterday I saw Ksenia. And Vera. And Mrs Petrovna. We got talking. We rather formed a ‘victim support group,’ you might say.” Arina froze, went pale, risked a glance at her mother’s back. “What’s this about, Lena?” Natasha turned round. “Oh, Arina knows,” Lena kept her eyes fixed on the girl. “Remember, Arisha, that little incident from two years ago? When you asked me for thirty thousand? And Ksenia too. And Vera, forty. Mrs Petrovna, fifty. We all ‘saved’ you from jail. Every one of us thought she alone knew your terrible secret. The kettle shook in Natasha’s hand; boiling water spattered on the hob, hissing. “What fifty thousand?” Natasha put the kettle down slowly. “Arina? What’s she talking about? You borrowed money—from my friends? Even from Mrs Petrovna?!” “Mum… that’s not…” Arina stammered. “I… I gave it back… mostly…” “You gave nothing back, Arina,” Lena cut in. “You dropped off two grand for show, then vanished. You took about two hundred thousand off us with a made-up story. We kept quiet because we felt sorry for your mum. But now I see we should have pitied ourselves, not you. “Arina—look at me. You swindled money from my friends?! Made up a theft story to fleece people I invite into my house?” “Mum, I needed money for the move!” Arina shouted. “You never gave me anything! Dad wouldn’t spare a penny, and I had to start my life somehow! So what? They’re loaded, it’s not like I left them destitute!” Lena wanted to gag. So that’s how it was… “Right. Natasha, sorry to drop this on you, but I just can’t keep quiet anymore. I won’t enable her behaviour. She thinks we’re all idiots!” Natasha stood there, gripping the table. Her shoulders were shaking. “Out,” she said, completely calm. Arina smirked, leaned back—thought her mum meant Lena. “Out of my flat!” Natasha turned on her daughter. “Pack up and go to your husband. I don’t want to see you here again!” Arina went ashen. “Mum, I’ve got a baby! I mustn’t get stressed!” “You have no mother, Arina. The girl I called daughter was honest. You’re just a thief. Mrs Petrovna… Oh God, she phoned every day, asked after me—and never breathed a word… How can I look her in the eye now? How?” Arina grabbed her bag, flung down a teatowel. “You can choke on your money for all I care!” she yelled. “Stupid old biddies! To hell with both of you!” She rushed into the other room, grabbed the baby’s Moses basket and stormed out. Natasha sank onto a chair, covered her face in her hands. Lena felt ashamed. “I’m sorry, Natasha…” “No, Lena… I’M sorry. For raising such a… such a wretch. I really thought she’d made her own way in life. And all along… God, what shame…” Lena patted her friend’s shoulder as Natasha broke down in tears. *** A week later, Arina’s husband, white-faced and haggard, went round to each “creditor” to apologise, unable to meet their eyes. He promised to repay everyone. He truly did—fifty thousand to Mrs Petrovna, covered by Natasha. Lena doesn’t blame herself. The cheat deserved what she got. Right?

“Out of my house!” the mother said. “Out,” Jane said, calm and measured.

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Mother-in-Law Times Two — Well, would you look at that! — said George in place of a greeting as he saw the petite, wiry old lady in jeans at his door, lips stretched in a sly grin. Mischievous eyes twinkled under narrowed lids. “Irina’s gran, Mrs. Valentine Peters,” he realised. “But how on earth — no warning, not even a call…” — Hello, sonny! — she greeted him, still smiling. — Going to let me in, then? — Oh, yes, of course! — George bustled, ushering her in. Mrs. Peters rolled a suitcase into the flat. . . — Strong cuppa for me! — she instructed as George served up tea. — So, Irina at work, little Ella at nursery, and what about you—skiving off? — Been sent on enforced leave, — he replied gloomily. — Two weeks’ ‘operational necessity,’ they call it. — Visions of a fortnight’s peace vanished. He glanced at her, hopeful: — You staying long? — Bang on — nodded Mrs. Peters, dashing his hopes — Staying ages. Another sigh. He barely knew her, only glimpsed her at his and Irina’s wedding—she’d travelled down. But he’d heard plenty from his father-in-law, who, whenever Mrs. Peters came up, would drop his voice and glance fearfully around, clearly respecting her—knee-knockingly so. — Do the washing up, — she instructed him, — and get ready. City tour for me, you’re my guide! George offered no argument—her drill-sergeant tone instantly reminded him of Sergeant Prichard from his army days. Crossing old Prichard was never worth it. — Show me the riverside! — Mrs. Peters ordered. — What’s the quickest way? — Taxi, — shrugged George. Suddenly Mrs. Peters pursed her fingers and let out a piercing whistle. A passing cab screeched to a halt. — Why whistle? What will people think? — George chided, helping her into the passenger seat. — Oh, nothing at all, — she beamed. — If they think anything, they’ll think you’re the uncivilised one. Hearing this, the taxi driver burst out laughing alongside Mrs. Peters. They slapped palms in triumph, like old mates pulling off a prank. — George, you’re a decent, polite lad, — the sprightly granny said as they strolled the riverside. — Your gran’s probably all prim and proper, but I don’t know the meaning of it! My late husband, Irina’s granddad, needed ages to get used to me. He was as quiet as a church mouse, loved his books—then along came me! I dragged him up mountains, taught him parachuting—though he never did brave a hang-glider. He and Irina would wait for me below while I circled overhead. George listened, amazed. Irina had never mentioned her gran’s adventurous streak. It explained a lot. Mrs. Peters fixed him with a look: — Ever parachuted yourself? — Army — fourteen jumps, — George replied, with a touch of pride. — Good on you! — Mrs. Peters nodded approval, breaking into song: “We’ll fall for a while, in this endless leap…” George knew the tune and chimed in: “A white silk cloud soars behind me like a gull…” The song closed the distance between them; he no longer felt awkward with the extraordinary old lady. — Time for a rest and a bite, — she suggested. — That food stall looks promising—smell that barbecue? The kebab man—dark-haired, sharp-featured—was skewering meat for grilling, looking as though he’d happily skewer enemies much the same way. He radiated an urge to cry “Huzzah!” and break into a wild Cossack dance. Taking their seats, Mrs. Peters winked and belted out in a surprisingly clear voice: “Sing us a song, John dear, wouldn’t that be grand at a wedding cheer!” The kebab man, caught off guard, joined in for a comic duet. “Sing at a wedding, that’s the plan—John dear, won’t you join in!” — Please help yourselves, honoured madam, — the kebab man beamed, setting out platters, pitta, and herbs with a flourish. He even brought two icy tumblers of Georgian wine, then pressed his hand to his heart and disappeared. The aroma lured out a little grey kitten from the shrubbery, who peered up at them pleadingly. — You’re just what we need! — Mrs. Peters smiled. — Come on, little lad. — She turned to the kebab man, “Sir, could you bring fresh meat for our friend—chopped up small, please!” As the kitten ate, Mrs. Peters admonished George: — You’ve a daughter, that’s all the more reason for a cat! It’s how you teach kindness, care for the weak, love for others. This little chap will help you! Back home, she bathed their new friend while George fetched kitten gear—litter tray, bowls, scratching post, cosy bed. When George staggered back, the flat rang with girlie squeals: Irina and Ella clung to gran, who showered them with kisses. On the sofa, the kitten blinked curiously at his new family. — For you, Ella, a summer shorts set — gran handed out gifts — and for you, Irina—nothing lifts a woman in her husband’s eyes quite like lacy knickers… Olly skipped nursery all week. Gran whisked her away on daily expeditions; they’d return contentedly exhausted. At home, George and the kitten—now Leo—awaited them, and in the evenings, Irina joined for family strolls, kitten in tow. One evening, Mrs. Peters turned serious. — George, I need a word. I’m leaving tomorrow—time’s up. After I’m off, hand this to Irina. — She pressed a document in a transparent wallet into his hand. — It’s my will. I’m leaving her my flat and everything in it. You get my late husband’s cherished library—signed first editions, incredibly rare. — Mrs. Peters, please—! — George protested, but she silenced him with a gesture. —I’ve told Irina nothing, but you should know: serious heart trouble. It could all end suddenly. Better to be prepared. — You shouldn’t be on your own! — George objected. — I’m never truly alone — she smiled. — Besides, Irina’s mum—your other mother-in-law—lives nearby. And you look after Irina and raise Ella well. You’re a good lad, reliable. So I’m like a double mother-in-law for you! — She laughed heartily, clapping him on the shoulder. — Couldn’t you stay a bit longer? — George begged. She smiled gratefully but shook her head. Everyone came to the station, even Leo, in Ella’s arms, was subdued as they said farewell. With her trademark finger-whistle, Mrs. Peters summoned a taxi which screeched to a stop. — Come on, son-in-law, put me on my train! — she called, kissing Irina and Ella and hopping in beside George. The driver gaped at her, having never been hailed quite so directly. — What are you staring at? — muttered George. — Never seen a decent woman before? The wiry gran gave a shake of her silvery curls, shared a high five with George, and burst into ringing laughter.

Well, this is a turn up for the books! Tom blurted out instead of hello, when he opened the front door

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You’re a burden, not a wife,” my mother-in-law lashed out in front of the entire family while I served tea, completely unaware that I was the one who cleared her debts.

Youre a burden, not a wife, my motherinlaw snapped in front of the whole family while I was refilling

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The Right to Take Your Time A Text from Her GP Arrives as Nina Clocks the Afternoon: Three Stops on the Bus to the Surgery, a Queue, a Consultation, and Back—While Her Son Promises to Drop By, Her Boss Drops Hints about Extra Work, and She’s Got Papers for Her Mum She Meant to Deliver Tonight—But Today, Nina Decides to Say No, to Slow Down, and to Choose Herself, Even Just for a Little While

The Right Not to Hurry The text from the GP arrives as Alice sits at her desk in a bustling London office