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Unbelievable Nerve: Should We Rent Out Our Seaside House to Family or Strangers? The Great Debate Between Pragmatic Natasha and Trusting Nick Over Money, Promises, and Family Loyalties

Limitless Cheek Well, Alice, just be honest, Nick groaned. Whats the big difference whether we rent the

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The Cost of Adventure

He always felt as though his life were running on a sidetrack, the main train already vanished into the distance.

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Real Son “Lynn, you won’t believe it! Matty and I have decided—we’re off to Turkey again next year!” My stepdad was beaming. “He says he needs that same hotel with the sea view again. What can I do—he’s my son after all.” He didn’t even realise he’d emphasised *real* son. “I’m happy for you both,” she replied, remembering the happier days before Matty appeared. “Real son… You always told me we were a family, that it didn’t matter who was actually related.” He had. He’d said she was his daughter, no matter what. “Not this again, Lynn! You’re my daughter, no question. You know I love you as if you were my own. But Matty…” He didn’t even realise he’d proved her point. “Matty’s the son. And I’m just someone you know, apparently.” “Lynn, don’t be like that! I told you, to me you’re as good as family!” “As good as… But did you ever take me to the seaside? Not once in fifteen years of being my ‘dad’?” He hadn’t. Arthur loved to claim there was no difference between her and Matty, but Lynn saw how much more he did for his actual son. The difference was enormous. “It was never possible, Lynn. You know money was tight. You’re old enough to know what two weeks in a five-star hotel costs… It’s expensive.” “I get it,” said Lynn. “Too expensive to take me. But Matty—who you only met six months ago—you’re willing to get a mortgage to buy him a flat so he’d have a place for a wife. I suppose that’s a ‘minor’ expense, as long as it’s for your son?” “I’m not buying him a flat, who told you that?” “Nice people.” “Well, tell those nice people to stop spreading rumours.” Lynn perked up a bit. “So, you’re really not?” “Of course not. Oh, guess where we’re going Saturday?” He answered himself: “Go-karting! He used to race a bit at uni, I’m just tagging along.” “Go-karting,” Lynn repeated. “Sounds thrilling.” “Exactly!” “Can I come with you?” The words burst out before she could stop them. Arthur clearly hadn’t wanted her along and stammered, “Uh… Lynn… You’d be bored. Honestly. It’s a… bloke thing. Matty and I need to have a father-son talk.” How much that hurt… “So… it’s fun for you, but not for me?” “Not quite… We just—we never spent any time together, and we’re trying to make up for it. Just us two. I hope you understand.” Understand. That was their new, most cruel phrase. She was supposed to understand that real was more important than adopted, and that she should now know her place outside the fence. Matty, in fairness, was amazing. Grew up without a father—his mum had never told Arthur—yet he’d done so well. Smart, handsome, kind. “Dad, I helped at the shelter today—fixing the dog runs.” “Dad, did you know I got a first-class degree?” “Dad, look, I fixed your phone.” He wasn’t just a son. He was the perfect son. That night, after Arthur had left, Lynn sat sorting through old photos—Arthur’s wedding to her mum (who’d died five years ago, leaving her and Arthur alone). Their holiday at the cottage… Lynn’s graduation photo… Nothing would ever be the same again. *** “Lynn, are you up? Got an urgent question.” Arthur turned up at eight in the morning. “What’s so urgent?” Lynn swept her fringe back with a headband and started the coffee machine. “It’s about Matty’s flat.” “So it’s true after all?” she breathed. “Sorry, but yes… true.” “And you lied to me.” “I didn’t want to upset you. But I need your advice! I really think I should hurry. He’ll want to marry someday, needs a place of his own. I remember what it was like for me…” “Just take out a mortgage,” Lynn muttered, who really did not want to discuss buying Matty a flat. What a cushy deal for Matty. “Yes, yes, I know. But you know my credit score… But Matty needs help. He deserves his dad to buy his very first home.” “And what are you getting at?” “Would you help? If I asked?” “Depends how.” “I’ll explain. I’ve got £20,000 for the deposit, but the bank won’t lend to me. You’d get approved. Your credit’s perfect. We’ll put it in your name, I’ll make all the payments. Promise.” The illusion that “there’s no difference” between them shattered for good. There was. They weren’t putting Matty’s neck on the block. “So Matty gets the flat, I get the debt—is that it?” Arthur shook his head, looking so wounded, it was as if Lynn had made the suggestion. “Don’t talk nonsense! I’ll pay. I’m not asking you to do anything but put it in your name. Think about it…” “You know, Arthur, I’m not even thinking about signing the loan. I’m thinking about how you don’t see me as your daughter anymore. Now you have a son. Known him for half a year, known me for fifteen, but that doesn’t matter—he’s *real*.” “That’s not true!” Arthur flushed. “I love you both equally!” “No. Not equally.” “Lynn, that’s not fair! It’s just—he’s my real son…” Curtain. She was done being his daughter. She was the stand-in, acceptable only until the real thing came along. “Fine,” she said politely. “I can’t, Arthur. I’ll need a place myself one day. Can’t take a second mortgage.” Arthur seemed to just remember she had nowhere herself. “Oh, right, you’ll need one too… But for now, before you want to buy your own place, you could help me. I’ve got most of the money, just need a bit more, only for a few years.” “No. I won’t do it.” She didn’t expect Arthur to understand. “All right,” he said. “If you can’t help me as a daughter… so be it. I’ll sort it some other way.” Whether he’d ever really seen her as his daughter no longer mattered. Now she saw Arthur only in photos. One evening, scrolling through social media, she saw it. A photo at the airport. Arthur and Matty, both in light jackets. Arthur, arm on Matty’s shoulder. Caption: “Off to Dubai with Dad. Family is everything.” Family. Lynn put down her phone. She remembered a moment from her own childhood, before her mum met Arthur. She was five. They had little money, and her favourite doll from Grandma broke. She cried, and her ‘real’ father told her: “Lynn, stop crying over nonsense. Don’t bother me.” You never could bother him. He was only ever interested in his bottle. Really, Lynn never had a dad. And thought Arthur had replaced him… Later, Arthur tried once more to persuade her. “Lynn, I think you’re overthinking this trust issue—” “What trust issue, Arthur? I said no.” “You just don’t get it. Matty grew up without a dad. I need to make it up to him. He’s grown up, needs somewhere to live. I’m not asking much—you just need to sign, I’ll pay every penny.” “Who’ll fix my empty spaces, Arthur…” That got to him. “Lynn, enough! I don’t want an argument. I do love you, that’s true! But you must understand—Matty is my real family now. When you have your own kids, you’ll see. Yes, I love you both, just differently, but you matter.” “Sure. As a tool.” “Lynn, cool off! You’re being dramatic.” “You dropped me the moment he turned up, Arthur. I don’t ask you to choose. There’s nothing to choose. You said it yourself—Matty’s your real son. I never was.” Half a year passed. Arthur never called. Not once. One day, scrolling her feed again, she saw a new photo. Arthur and Matty, standing in front of mountains. Arthur in trendy ski gear. Caption: “Teaching Dad to snowboard! He’s a bit old for it, but with a son—anything’s possible!” Lynn stared at the picture a long time. She turned to her desk to finish her report when a message pinged. Unknown number. “Hi, Lynn. It’s Matty. Dad gave me your number—he can’t ring himself. He’s sorted the flat another way, and he’s worried about you. He really wants you to come for the Bank Holiday. He can’t say why, but it matters.” She drafted a reply, deleting and rewriting several times. “Hi Matty. Tell Arthur I’m really glad for him, I’m thinking of him too. But I won’t be coming. I have other plans for the long weekend. I’m going to the seaside.” She didn’t bother mentioning she’d bought that trip herself, and the beach was in Cornwall, not Turkey—and she was travelling with a friend, not a dad. Lynn hit send. And realised she could still be happy, even without him.

My dear, you wont believe it! Simon and I have decidedwere heading back to Spain next year, Davids voice

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A Marriage of Convenience: When Irina’s Stepfather Proposes an Unexpected Deal for Love, Business, and Redemption

MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE Mr. Thompson, do you have a moment? A head of soft blonde hair appeared in the

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Two Sisters: The Tale of Val and Zoe—One a Beautiful, Wealthy Success, the Other Lost to Drink, Until a Kind-Hearted Aunt in a Tiny English Village Gave Her a Second Chance at Life With Homemade Remedies, Goat’s Milk, Fresh Eggs, and Love, Transforming Zoe From Rock Bottom to a Talented Artisan and Bringing Both Women to a Cozy Home by the Sea

TWO SISTERS Once upon a time, there were two sisters. The elder, Charlotte, was stunningly beautiful

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There Won’t Be a Wedding “Tanya, why are you so quiet today?” she asked as she sipped her tea. “We agreed—we’re going furniture shopping for the bedroom on Saturday. But you seem down. What’s going on?” Denis knew this was the moment. If not now—never again. “Tanya… There’s something I need to say. About the wedding.” Tanya had waited ages for this day. She and Denis had already agreed to keep things simple, but she suspected he wanted to make their wedding special: guests, catering, a real event. She had hoped and hoped for this conversation. “No need for a dramatic build-up,” Tanya smiled. “I think I know what you’re going to say.” But Denis’ answer was not what she’d expected. “Let’s postpone it, Tanya. Let’s put off the wedding.” This was not the talk she had prepared for. “Postpone?” She was stunned. “Why? We just picked our invitations! You were the one choosing them…. We’ve decided who we’re inviting! Did you change your mind about marrying me?” It felt like a scene straight out of a melodrama. Any moment now, he’d say his feelings had faded. But Denis didn’t follow the script. “It’s just… money, Tanya. I’m short on cash, my payday keeps being pushed back. We haven’t managed to save up at all. Plus… we haven’t been living together that long. Six months isn’t much, don’t you think?” “Six months? Denis, we’ve been together three years! Three years dating, half a year under one roof—that’s ‘not long’ to you?” Denis looked more resolved. “Let’s not fight, okay, Tanya? I don’t want a row. It’s just… a pause. I still want to marry you, but a wedding costs a lot.” “Fine… Let’s just go to the registry office together, and celebrate with friends after.” “Tanya, that won’t be a proper wedding.” “Honestly, who cares anymore!” “But you’ve always dreamed of—” “I’ll survive, Denis!” It was such a feeble excuse. “Be honest with me. Is something going on? Are you not sure you love me? Or… is there someone new? Because ‘weddings are too expensive’ doesn’t convince me.” Denis shook his head. “No, Tanya. I swear. I just want our wedding to be perfect. And right now, I just can’t make that happen. And yes—six months together. We’re still learning about each other. Maybe it’s too soon.” His logic… almost convincing. Denis was never usually this desperate to persuade her. He himself had pushed to get married sooner, not later. She pretended to believe him. After that talk, Denis was the model boyfriend—attentive, careful, picking up on all the details he used to ignore as if to make up for cancelling the wedding. At the shops, he asked what she wanted, always did the dishes… But he was gloomy, not just thoughtful, but truly down, sighing at night and brushing off Tanya’s questions with, “Just tired, that’s all.” Tanya did her best not to push. “Later, later, later,” her inner voice insisted. A couple of weeks later, they were invited for dinner with Denis’ parents. Tanya wasn’t keen—she knew the wedding would come up. And Denis’ parents would ask questions. Awkward. But they had to go. Of course, the wedding came up. “So, are you two ever going to make us happy?” his mother asked, as the father disappeared to the TV. “We’ve already found a place for the banquet—table for twenty. Should I reserve a date?” Denis looked as glum as Tanya. What were they reserving a table for? There would be no wedding. “Mum, we’ve told you. We’re postponing it,” he mumbled. “Postponed? What for? Short on money, is it? Denis, as a man, shouldn’t you have thought of that sooner?” After dinner, while the men examined a half-dismantled radio, Tanya headed to the spotless bathroom to freshen up. Not even a dust mote, nor a spot of makeup—his mother always kept all that back in the bedroom. Tanya used to laugh at the ritual of lugging it all in and out. She dried her face—and suddenly tuned in. The bathroom walls could carry every whispered secret. Denis had returned to the kitchen, talking quietly to his mother. “…Denis, you’re not planning to break up with Tanya, are you?” Tanya froze with a towel to her chin. What? She pressed her ear to the chilly tiles, not daring to rustle. “Mum, I’ve said—postponed, not broken up.” “Postponed is just an excuse.” Galina snapped. “I can see you’re miserable. Why are you with her? You know she isn’t a wife. A wife should obey her husband, not constantly question him… Why marry if you’ll just divorce in a year?” “I love her, Mum,” Denis replied softly. Tanya almost felt moved. But the next thing his mother said wiped away any sentiment. “You say you love her? She’s cunning, Denis. I told you! She’s got you turned against us and she’s not even your wife yet. Stopped helping your sister, stopped visiting the cottage… She’s changing you—but not for the better.” Tanya stood frozen, glued to the wall. Turned Denis against them? She always tried to be as polite as possible with his parents, even when his dad had cruelly mocked her new haircut. She’d never, ever tried to come between them. In fact, she’d always nudged Denis to visit more—family was important to him. Then it clicked: postponing the wedding wasn’t about money. His mum was the one behind it all, lying to Tanya’s face, against the wedding. Tanya returned to the kitchen. “Ah, Tanya! We were just discussing how you shouldn’t put off registering the marriage. Youth, yes, but I don’t approve of living together until it’s official.” How sweet. “Of course, Mrs Williams,” Tanya replied warmly. “We won’t leave it too long. Once we save a bit more, off to the registry office, isn’t that right, Denis?” “Absolutely, Tanya. We’re practically married already,” Denis picked up instantly. That night, driving home, Denis reached to hug her, but Tanya slid away. She didn’t know how to start the conversation. Should she? If Denis hadn’t dumped her on his mother’s orders, did he really love her? Yet he’d called off the wedding. “You acted weird when your mum started talking,” she said, watching the streetlights disappear into the distance. “Me? No, she just… wants the wedding to happen, that’s all—” “Don’t lie. She’s not in a hurry for a wedding at all. She’s completely against it. She says I’ve turned you against the family. She wants us to split.” Denis jerked the steering wheel nervously. “So you heard? Tanya, she’s just afraid her son will get married and forget about her. Typical, right? Don’t take it personally. She’ll get over herself.” Tanya didn’t care about a mother-in-law’s possessiveness. It was Denis’ own words that stung—he hadn’t defended her, just agreed to avoid a row. The wedding question hovered, unresolved. Denis remained gloomy, and now, whenever Tanya hinted at plans, he just said, “Maybe, in time…” And then Tanya got the chance to see Denis’ unlocked phone. “I’m just checking the time,” she told herself. “I’m not snooping. I’ll just… glance.” On the screen—a message from his sister, Vera. Vera was only a couple of years younger than Tanya, but acted as if she was still twelve. No job, no studies, living at home with their parents, on their dime. Her message was clear: “So I’m not getting any money then. Under the thumb again, I see. Go live with her then, if some girl’s more important than your own family.” Tanya read it again. “Under the thumb again.” And the memory came back… Before the wedding was off, when Vera had once again asked Denis for cash, Tanya had said, unable to keep quiet: “Denis, she’s 27, living with your parents and asking for pocket money. Maybe it’s time she started her own life? We’re not made of money.” She wouldn’t have cared, but they shared finances, and Tanya contributed as much as Denis. Denis had reluctantly agreed. “You’re right, Tanya. Enough’s enough.” So now it was clear—Vera was turning everyone against Tanya. Tanya took Denis’ phone, copied the message, and sent it to herself to keep the evidence. Then she put the phone back exactly where it was. Denis was shaking snow from his coat in the hall: “I got bread… and your favourite chocolate with hazelnuts. I was just thinking, maybe, we should have gone—” “Denis,” Tanya interrupted. “Yes? Who else were you expecting?” he joked. She didn’t laugh. “What did Vera mean in her message?” she asked. He tried to shift blame, tried to get angry first. “Did you go through my phone while I was out?” Classic defence, Tanya thought. Lay the blame elsewhere. “That doesn’t matter, Denis. I want an explanation. Now.” Denis stood there, face flickering between panic and anger. “Oh Tanya, don’t worry about it. She’s just a kid, always taking offence.” “Offence at what? That I asked her to grow up?” Tanya pressed. “She’s used to coming to her brother for cash. Not easy to break the habit. Forget it, don’t get worked up.” “She got your parents wound up, didn’t she?” “Well… yeah,” he admitted, “I tried to explain it’s our money, that Vera should stand on her own… Mum flipped out—accused you of turning me against my own family. But that’s not what I think…” “But you still called off the wedding. So, what—I can’t get along with your family, I get that. But what do you actually want? Do you want to marry me, Denis? Or are you just putting it off because you can’t say no to your mother?” “Of course I want to marry you! Just… not right now. Maybe later… when it all calms down…” There it was. “You know what, Denis—I finally get it. I won’t marry someone who isn’t sure about me and jumps every time his sister scowls. Maybe it’s for the best—the wedding’s off.”

There Will Be No Wedding Why are you so quiet today? Emily asked as she looked up from her cup of tea.

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“Go Home—We’ll Talk There!” grumbled Mark, not wanting to give passersby a show. But when Vera stormed off, he secretly called the family to “teach her a lesson.” Little did Mark know his athletic wife once earned a lifetime ban from Muay Thai for brutality—and when the family tried to discipline her, the household rules would never be the same!

Go on home! Ill speak to you there! William snapped, glancing sharply at the busy street. No need to

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An Elderly Lady Cares for an Abandoned Dog, and What Happened Next Left Her Completely Astonished

15 October 2023 I live on the edge of Little Wrenford, a hamlet that seems forgotten by the map.

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Go on home! Ill speak to you there! William snapped, glancing sharply at the busy street. No need to

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Shameless Cheek: “So, Natasha, tell me honestly,” whined Nick, “what universal difference does it make, who we rent the house to? Friends, strangers—money’s the same!” Natasha finished hanging the laundry. He could help, instead of moaning. “Nicky, my dear,” she replied, “the difference is you can never squeeze money out of family.” “You’re talking about Jamie? That’s not fair—he’s my brother! He’ll pay, I guarantee it. Not even asking a discount! He’ll rent for the whole summer.” “It’s a house by the seaside. I’ll find tenants in five minutes.” “Why must it be strangers?” “With strangers: contract, deposit, no pay—they’re out. With family, it’s ‘Oh Natasha, you understand, we’ve got kids,’ or ‘we’ll pay later,’ or ‘we’ve broken your telly, but you wouldn’t charge us, right?’ Been there, seen that.” The house had come down from Natasha’s parents, who also rented it. She kept the rule: no family, no friends. She’d seen how mum and dad were ‘done’ by their own. “But how did it end?” “With family staying for free and not even apologising! Listen, Nick, the house is business—not a free holiday camp for your lot.” Jamie’s decided his wife and three kids need three months by the sea—nice when business is slow. Natasha was certain he didn’t intend to pay. “He’s not asking for charity!” Nick insisted. “He’ll pay.” They all promise at first. “We always have a queue of proper tenants, Nick. No friends, no family. Business is business.” Nick tried another tack: “Alright. You don’t trust Jamie. But you trust me?” Natasha paused. “Of course. So what?” “I’ll pay the rent myself if Jamie tries to stiff us.” Weak. “Genius. And pay me from our joint savings?” “Well… no, I’ll find a second job—nights, weekends—all the money to you. Not ours, just yours. Deal?” Natasha didn’t realise Nick cared this much. Maybe she should trust him… “You could talk the hind legs off a donkey. Fine—it’s your responsibility.” There was time until summer—Natasha tried to believe in Nick. June began, and so did the problems. Nick called Jamie every three days for the first month’s rent; always, always, excuses. “Yeah, all fine, Nick! Just waiting for one big client to pay me. End of the month, for sure.” June ended. No money. Natasha waited, stayed silent. Nick had asked her to trust him. But after yet more phone calls: “So? Has he paid?” “The big client’s not paid Jamie yet. As soon as he does…” Same excuse, month in, month out. “This is exactly what I told you. Family always has a reason not to pay.” “It’s just coincidence! Just wait…” “Till September? Till their three cases are packed and they sail off with a cheery wave and nothing paid?” “You’re not losing out, love; I’ll get a side job.” “You? Now?” Nick wilted. “Give him a couple more weeks. If not… I’ll pay you.” “You insisted!” A chill settled in the house. July. The heat was stifling. Natasha caught Nick browsing job adverts, never dialling. “Nick, it’s the thirtieth. Two-thirds of summer, zero rent.” “He’ll pay. He said he’d make it good.” “I’ve stopped believing. You vouched for him. Now it’s your turn to pay. Where’s your extra job?” Evidently, Nick didn’t fancy actually keeping his promise. “I’ll find something. Just nothing’s right. I mean, my back’s not up to heavy lifting, is it?” “Maybe tell your brother to shift bags then. You promised. Either get a job now, or I ring Jamie myself and tell him: pay half by Friday or we evict you—legally.” Nick paled. “No, don’t! What will family say, if you sue my brother?” Jamie won’t pay, Nick won’t work, and the court option horrifies him—so now it’s all Natasha’s fault. “You care so much about me, your husband! You’d rather I work two jobs than just let your wife ‘win’.” “You insisted!” “But I didn’t think Jamie’d shaft us!” “But I did,” said Natasha. “Seen it a dozen times. You didn’t listen.” “Alright! But you, Natasha—forcing me to work overtime proves you don’t love me. Money over my health! What if I have a heart attack?” “I’m not forcing you. Just asking you to keep YOUR word.” “Fine! I’ll get a job, I’ll pay Jamie’s rent. Happy now?” So Nick became an evening delivery driver and glowered at Natasha every night. “You… it’s all because of you.” “Because of me?” “Yeah!” “Maybe now you’ll understand what it means to be Mr Nice Guy at my expense.” Natasha hoped Jamie would have a change of heart—but then he rang her. “Natasha, I’ve got a problem—car’s acting up, had to spend your rent money on repairs… I’ll pay you… at some point…” Natasha hung up. Nick saw her face. “Alright, I was wrong to trust him. But you—you don’t let me make mistakes! Instead of support you just push me harder…” “So I should just smile and tell you: ‘Fine, Nick, your family can summer for free, I’ll live’? You insisted you’d pay if he didn’t!” “I did! But didn’t expect you to agree so easily that I should run myself ragged.” “And your brother—he thinks about you?” “He’s not bad, just—” “Marvellous. He gets a freebie and you the blame, and I’m the villain?” Nick was silent. A rocky road ahead for their marriage.

Boundless Cheek Come on, Sarah, just be honest Simon moaned, whats the real, cosmic difference who we