Trending Link

Grandma Always Chose One Grandchild — “What about me, Gran?” Katya would ask softly. — “You’re a good girl, Katya. Just look at those cheeks. The nuts are for thinking, and Dima needs to study—he’s a man. Our family’s future.” — “You get on now, go dust the shelves, dear. A girl’s got to learn the value of hard work.” “Are you serious, Katya? She’s not got long… The doctors said a couple of days, maybe hours…” Dima, clutching his car keys, looked wretched in the kitchen doorway. “I’m absolutely serious, Dima. Want some tea?” Katya kept slicing apple for her daughter without turning around. “Tea? Now?” Dima stepped further in. “She’s lying there, tubes everywhere, gasping…” “She was calling for you this morning. ‘Where’s my Katya?’ she asked. My heart broke. Won’t you go see her?” “She’s your grandma! This is your last chance…” Katya arranged the apple slices on a plate and finally faced her brother. “To you, she’s Grandma. To her, you’re Dima—the golden boy, the one and only heir.” “And me? I never really existed for her.” “Are you sure I need some ‘goodbye’? What should I forgive her? Or she, me?” “Oh, give over, Kat!” Dima slammed his keys down. “Yes, she loved me more. So what? She’s old, set in her ways. But she’s dying! Do you really have to be so… cruel?” “I’m not cruel, Dima. I just feel nothing for her. Go on. Sit with her if you must. Your hand will mean more to her than I ever could.” “You’re her golden child. Shine on for her till the end.” Dima looked at his sister, turned sharply, and left, the door snapping shut behind him. Katya sighed, picked up the plate, and headed to her daughter’s room. *** In their family, things were always split down the middle. Their parents loved Katya and Dima equally. The house was always full of laughter, baking, constant coming and going. But Grandma Claudia was a different sort. “Dima darling, come here, my boy,” Grandma would croon when they visited. “Look what I’ve saved for you! Freshly shelled walnuts, and a whole bag of teacakes, just for you!” Seven-year-old Katya would watch as the special treats appeared from the old cupboard. “And me, Grandma?” she’d ask quietly. A sharp glance was all she’d get. “You’re well enough as you are, Katya. Look at those rosy cheeks. Dima needs brains for school—he’s the man. And you go on and dust those shelves. A girl must get used to her chores.” Dima, red with embarrassment, would pocket his goodie bag and sneak away, while Katya went off to the dusting. She didn’t even feel hard done by. It was just the weather—sometimes it rains, sometimes Grandma loves Dima more. Dima would always be waiting for her on the landing. “Here.” He’d push half the treats and a handful of walnuts into her hand. “Just don’t eat them in front of her, or she’ll moan again.” “You need them more—for your brains.” Katya would smile. “Oh, forget it,” Dima would grin, “she’s bonkers. Quick, eat up, before she comes!” They’d sit, munching their forbidden sweets on the stairs to the attic. Dima always shared, no matter what—even when Grandma sneaked him money “for ice cream”, he’d come running: “Hey, enough here for a couple of 99s and some bubblegum. Let’s go!” Her brother had always been her rock—the warmth he gave filled the gap left by Grandma’s chill so well that Katya hardly noticed. Years passed. Grandma Claudia aged, and when Dima turned eighteen, proclaimed that he’d get her precious city flat. “A man must have his own place to bring his wife home to!” Mum just sighed—she knew better than to argue. That night, she came to Katya. “Don’t worry, love… Your father and I will give you what we’ve saved. A nest egg towards your own home. To keep things fair.” “Mum, it’s okay,” Katya hugged her. “Dima needs it more—he’s starting a family. I’ll be fine in halls for a while.” “No, love. We can’t give to one and not the other. Take it, and don’t argue.” But Katya didn’t. Dima moved into Grandma’s flat. Katya got her brother’s old room, filled it with her books and art, and for the first time felt what it was like not to have love measured out on scales. Dima felt guilty. “Come round, Kat,” he’d say. “Irina’s made apple tart. Oh, and Gran called—wanted to know if I’d wasted ‘her’ money buying you things…” “And what did you say?” “I said I’d blown it all on pinball and fine brandy,” Dima would laugh. “She huffed for a full minute, then said: ‘That Katya’s been a bad influence on you!’” “Of course! Who else?” *** When Katya married Oleg and a baby arrived, housing became urgent. Their mum swept in. “Look, we’ve got our big three-bed. Dima has his place. Katya, you rent. Let’s swap—Dad and I’ll take a small flat, Katya gets the bigger place for her family.” “Mum,” Dima jumped in, “I waive all claim to our old place. I’ve got Gran’s flat, more than enough. Let Katya have what she needs—they’ve got a child.” “Dima, are you sure?” Oleg was taken aback. “That’s a lot of money…” “I’m sure. Kat and I have always shared. She missed out because of Gran. Don’t argue. I mean it.” Katya cried—not over the money, but because her brother was good, through and through. They swapped flats, and everyone had what they needed. Mum came to help often; Dima and his family visited every weekend. Grandma Claudia lived alone. Dima delivered shopping, fixed leaks, listened to her complaining about her health—and “ungrateful Katya”. “She never calls. Never once asks after me!” “Gran, you never wanted to know her,” Dima would say gently. “You never said a kind word to her in twenty years. Why would she call?” “I was bringing her up! Women should know their place! And look at her—grabbed herself a flat, turned her mother out!” Dima would only sigh. No point arguing. *** Katya would sit in the quiet kitchen, recalling things: Her hand pushed away from the jam. Her certificate ignored, while Dima’s childlike sketch was praised. At Dima’s wedding Grandma sat proud as a queen, but she missed Katya’s—“not well”. “Mum, why don’t we see Grandma Clarrie?” her daughter asked. “Uncle Dima says she’s really ill.” “Grandma Clarrie only wants to see Uncle Dima, love. It’s how she is.” “Is she mean?” the girl squinted. “No,” Katya mulled. “She just couldn’t love everyone. Her heart only had room for one. It happens sometimes.” That evening Dima called. “She’s gone, Kat. About an hour ago.” “I’m sorry, Dima. I know this is so hard.” “She kept asking for you,” Dima lied, wanting peace between them. “She said: ‘I hope Katya will be happy.’” “Thank you, Dima… Come over tomorrow. We’ll have a little gathering. I’ll bake a pie.” “I will… Kat, do you regret not going?” Katya didn’t lie. “No, Dima. I don’t. Why be hypocritical? She never wanted to see me. Nor I, her.” A pause. “Maybe you’re right. Always the sensible one… See you tomorrow.” At the funeral, Katya stood in black a little apart. Dima took her shoulder. “You all right?” “I’m fine, Dima. Really.” “Look, I was sorting her flat and found an old box… It was full of photos. You’re in loads, all carefully clipped out, kept separate. Why, do you think?” Katya raised her brows, surprised. “I don’t know. Maybe she cared, just couldn’t show it? Or was scared loving you meant loving me less? Old folks… they’re odd.” “Maybe,” Katya shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter now.” They walked out together under one umbrella—tall Dima and delicate Katya. “Listen,” Dima said by the cars, “I’ll sell that place. Buy a bigger flat for us, little ones for the boys, and the rest… Let’s set up a fund. Or give it to a children’s hospital. Let that ‘grandma’s money’ do some good at last.” Katya smiled warmly for the first time in days. “You know, Dima… that would be the best revenge on Gran Claudia. The kindest revenge there is.” “Deal?” “Deal.” They drove away in different directions, Katya letting the city’s music wash over her as she finally felt a deep, settling calm. Maybe Dima was right. Let some of that money help a child. That would be fair.

Grannie always played favourites And what about me, Gran? I remember my sister asking, almost under her breath.

La vida

Gone for Good: When the Person You Trusted Walks Out—Natasha’s Story of Love, Deceit, and a Vanishing Act That Left Only Emptiness and Hard Lessons in a Quiet English Town

Gone, and Good Riddance What do you mean, not reachable? He was just on the phone with someone five minutes ago!

La vida

011

Why I Don’t Want to Live with My Daughter’s Family: Let Me Tell You Exactly Why I Value My Own Space, Privacy, and Daily Routines

I never wished to live with my daughters family, and now, looking back, I will tell you why.

La vida

025

My Husband and I Left Our Flat to Our Son and Moved to the Countryside—Now He’s Living with His Mother-in-Law and Renting Out Our Place

My wife and I moved out of our flat in London and settled down in the countryside. Our son moved in with

La vida

018

A Question of Fairness: When Mum Split My Inheritance with My Stepbrothers, but Their Grandmother’s Money Was Off-Limits to Me

Injustice Mum, I asked again, trying to steady my voice, why didnt I get the full million? Its only three

La vida

Every Tuesday: The Day That Held Us Together – A Journey Through Grief, Growing Up, and Keeping Promises Across the Years

Every Tuesday Eleanor darted through the corridors of the London Underground, her hand clutching an empty

La vida

Postage Stamps and Broken Vows: When Ilya Left Katya, Love, Revenge, and Life’s Unexpected Passions Unfold in a Tale of Family, Heartbreak, and Second Chances

A POSTAGE STAMP Olivers left Emma, Mum sighs heavily. What do you mean? I ask, confused. I dont understand

La vida

010

The Next Day, Our Neighbour Was Leaning Over Our Fence Again. My Wife Told Her We Had a Lot to Do Today, So We Couldn’t Socialise Like Yesterday. “What About Tomorrow?” Barbara Asked, Curious. “It’ll Be the Same Tomorrow. In Fact, Please Don’t Come Over Anymore.”

The next day, our neighbour was back, leaning over our garden fence as if nothing had changed.

La vida

012

My Mother-in-Law Was Absolutely Shocked When She Visited Our Garden and Found No Vegetables or Fruit Growing There

My mother-in-laws face was a picture of disbelief as she entered our garden and realised there wasnt

La vida

Granny Always Had a Favourite Grandchild — And what about me, Nan? — whispered Kate. — Oh, you’re fine as you are, Kate, look at those rosy cheeks of yours. Walnuts are for brains, you know. Dima needs to study, he’s a man, the family’s hope. You go on and dust the shelves. Girls should get used to housework. — Kate, are you serious? She’s… she’s not got long now. The doctors said days—maybe hours… Dima stood there, twisting his car keys, looking pretty rough. — Deadly serious, Dima. Do you want some tea? — Kate didn’t even turn from her apple chopping for her daughter. — Sit down, I’ll put the kettle on. — Tea? Kate, are you kidding? — He stepped towards her, frustration in his voice. — She’s lying there, tubes everywhere, gasping… She was calling for you this morning. “Where’s Katie?” she kept saying. My heart nearly stopped. You’re really not going? She’s our nan, Kate. This is your last chance, don’t you see? Kate arranged apple slices on a plate and then finally faced him. — She’s your nan. For her, you’re Dima — her pride and joy, the only heir, the precious hope of the family. And for me… I never really existed for her. Do you honestly think I need to say goodbye? What are we meant to talk about, Dima? What am I supposed to forgive her for—or she, me? — Oh, come off it with these childhood grudges! — Dima slammed his keys on the table. — Yes, maybe she loved me more than you. So what? She’s old, she had her quirks. But she’s dying! Don’t be so… hard-hearted. — I’m not hard-hearted, Dima. I just don’t feel anything for her. Go on, you. Sit with her, hold her hand—she needs you a hundred times more than she needs me. You’re her golden boy. So shine for her till the end. Dima stared, turned, and left, slamming the door. Kate sighed, picked up the apples, and went to her daughter’s room. *** Everything in their family had always been neatly divided. No, their parents loved them equally—both Kate and Dima. The house was always lively, laughter, the smell of baking, a bustle of visits and outings. But Granny—Claudia Watson—was a different sort altogether. — Dima, come here, my clever lad, — Granny would call as soon as they arrived on weekends. — Look what I’ve put aside for you. Freshly shelled walnuts! And these, your favourite toffees! Kate, aged seven then, would stand watching as granny reached deep into the mahogany cabinet for the precious bag. — And me, Granny? — she’d ask quietly. Claudia Watson would cast a prickly glance in her direction. — You’re all right, Kathleen. Those cheeks prove it, don’t they? Walnuts are for clever boys; Dima needs him some brains—he’s a man, the support of the family. You go on and do the dusting. Girls should learn to be useful. Dima, blushing, would take the treats and sidle away, while Kate fetched the dusters. Funny thing was, she never even minded. Young Kate just accepted it like the weather. Some days it rained, and Granny loved Dima best. Life was like that. Usually, her brother waited in the hall. — Here, — he’d press half the toffees and walnuts into her hand. — Just don’t eat them in front of her, she’ll only grumble. — You need them more, for your brain, — Kate would smile. — Oh, stuff that, — Dima would pull a face. — She’s a bit tapped, anyway. Come on, eat up quick. They’d crunch their contraband together on the stairs to the attic. Dima always shared. Always. Even when Granny would slip him money “for ice cream” behind Mum’s back, he’d run to Kate: — Hey, that’s two cones and enough left for a bubble gum sticker! Wanna go? Her brother was always the shield from Granny’s chill. His love more than made up for the shortfall—so much so that Kate barely even noticed she was missing anything. Years passed. Claudia Watson grew old. When Dima turned eighteen, she solemnly announced she was leaving him her spare flat in the centre. — The pillar of the family should have his own place, — she declared. — So he brings home a wife and needn’t sponge off others. Mum just sighed—she knew her mother’s fierce ways and never argued. But later that evening, she sat on Kate’s bed. — Love, don’t you fret… Your dad and I see it all. Here’s what we’ve decided: the money we’ve saved for a bigger house and for a car—we’re giving it to you. A first step towards a place of your own. It’s only fair. — Oh Mum, honestly—Dima needs the flat, he and Irina are getting married. I’ll manage in the halls. — No, love. Your gran’s stuck in her ways, but we’re your parents—it’s wrong for one child to get more than the other. So take it, and don’t argue. But Kate didn’t take it. Dima moved into Gran’s flat the minute he married, and their family house felt suddenly spacious. Kate took his old room, filled it with her books and art, and tasted for the first time the joy of a space filled with equal love. Inheritance never got between her and her brother. If anything, Dima felt awkward. — Pop round to ours, — he’d say, dropping by. — Irina’s made cakes. Gran keeps asking if I’ve wasted “her money” on your hobbies. — And what did you say? — Told her I’d blown the lot on fruit machines and fancy gin, — Dima would laugh. — She huffed for ages, then said, “Katie’s led you astray!” — Naturally, — Kate would grin. — Who else? *** When Kate married Alex and had a baby, housing became an issue. Once more, their mother worked wonders. — Listen, kids, — she said. — We have a three-bed. Dima’s got his flat. You two are renting. Let’s swap: we’ll trade ours for a one-bed and a two-bed. Your dad and I will have the one-bed, Kate, you and Alex the two-bed. — Mum, — Dima interrupted. — I don’t want any share of our old house. Not a penny. Gran’s flat is plenty for me. Let Kate have everything—she needs it, new family and all. — Dima, really? — said Alex, amazed. — That’s a lot of money. Are you sure? — Sure. Kate and I have always split everything. She’s put up with so much because of Gran. Not another word. That’s final. Kate cried that day. Not over square feet, but because her brother was the best person she’d ever know. They swapped the flats. Life carried on. Mum often visited to help with her granddaughter. Dima, Irina, and their boys would come every weekend. Claudia Watson lived alone. Dima brought groceries, fixed things, and listened to endless complaints about her health and “ungrateful Katie”. — Has she ever rung? Has she ever checked on me? — Gran would huff. — You never wanted to know her, Gran, — Dima replied gently. — Twenty years and you never said a kind word—why would she call? — I was just trying to raise her right! — she’d retort. — A woman ought to know her place! And now she’s ended up with the flat, forced myself and her mum out! Dima could only sigh. Explaining was pointless. *** Kate sat in the kitchen, memories drifting through. Granny brushing her hand aside from the jam. Praising Dima’s dodgy drawings, walking past Kate’s prize certificates in silence. She was the queen at Dima’s wedding, never showed for Kate’s—said she was ill. — Mum, why don’t we visit Nana Claudia? — her daughter poked her head in. — Uncle Dima says she’s really poorly. — Nana Claudia only wants to see Uncle Dima, love, — Kate smoothed her daughter’s hair. — That’s just how she likes it. — Is she mean? — her daughter squinted. — No, — Kate reflected. — She just didn’t know how to love everyone at once. Some people only have room for one in their heart. That’s life. That evening, Dima phoned again. — It’s over, Kate. An hour ago. — I’m so sorry, Dima. It must hurt. — She waited for you, you know, — Dima lied gently. Kate knew, but let him. — Said, “Hope Katie will be happy”. — Thank you, Dima… Come round tomorrow. We’ll remember her together—I’ll bake a cake. — Will do… Kate—do you regret it? Not going, I mean? She didn’t lie. — No, Dima. I don’t. Why pretend? Neither of us ever wanted to see the other… He was quiet a moment. — Maybe you’re right, — he sighed. — Always the sensible one, sis. See you tomorrow. The funeral was quiet. Kate went—for Mum and Dima. She stood apart, black coat against the dismal cemetery sky. As the coffin sank, she didn’t cry. Dima came to her, arm round her shoulders. — You all right? — I’m fine, Dima. Really. — I was clearing out her flat… found a box of old photos. You were in there too. Lots. All cut carefully from family photos. She kept every single one. Kate raised an eyebrow in surprise. — Why? — No idea. Maybe deep down she cared, just couldn’t show it. Afraid if she loved you, I’d get less? Old folks can be odd. — Maybe, — Kate shrugged. — But it doesn’t really matter now. They left under one umbrella—tall, sturdy Dima and little Kate. — You know, — said Dima as they reached their cars, — I’m going to sell that flat. I’ll buy a family home, set up a trust for the kids, and the rest… Maybe we should donate it? A children’s hospital, perhaps? So ‘Nan’s’ money finally brings someone some joy… Kate looked at him and, for the first time in days, smiled warmly. — You know, Dima… That would be the sweetest revenge on Granny Watson. The kindest revenge in the world. — So it’s settled? — Settled. They drove away in different directions. Kate, music playing, felt an unexpected, gentle calm settle within. Maybe Dima was right. Some of the money should help heal a child. That would be fair.

Granny Always Had a Favourite And what about me, Gran? she would ask softly. Oh, youre fine, Catherine.