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Ive honestly had enough of you turning up every single weekend! Maybe you know this particular sort of

Like a Bird Drawn to a Sweet Song: “Girls, You Should Marry Once for Life—Stay by Your Beloved Till Your Last Breath, Not Wander the World in Endless Search for Your Soulmate. Otherwise, You’ll End Up a Bitten-Down Apple. A Married Man Is Off-Limits—Don’t Even Try Starting Something, Or Misfortune Will Find You. My Parents Have Been Together Fifty Years—They’re My Example. I’ll Cherish My Own Fate Just as Carefully.” These Were the Convictions I Declared at Twenty, Taught by My Grandmother’s Wise Words—But Destiny Wrote Its Own Script for Me…

LIKE A BIRD TO A CALLER Girls, you should only marry once, and for life. You ought to stand by the one

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Is the Orchid to Blame? “Polly, take this orchid or I’ll just throw it out,” Kate said offhandedly, handing me the clear pot from the windowsill. “Oh, thanks, love! But what’s wrong with this orchid?” I wondered aloud, since there were still three gorgeous, well-tended orchids on her windowsill. “This one was a wedding gift for my son. And you know how that ended…” Kate sighed heavily. “I know your Dennis got divorced less than a year into the marriage. I won’t pry about the reasons—I can imagine they were serious. After all, he adored Tanya,” I replied, not wanting to reopen old wounds. “I’ll tell you one day, Polly, I promise. For now, it’s all just too painful,” Kate said thoughtfully, wiping away a tear. I brought the “banished” and “rejected” orchid home. My husband glanced at the forlorn flower with pity. “Why do you want that runt? That orchid’s got no life left. Even I can see that. Don’t waste your time.” “I want to bring it back to life. I’ll give it love and care. You’ll see—you’ll be admiring this orchid in no time,” I said, determined to nurse the drooping, dying plant back to health. He grinned and winked at me. “Who can say no to love?” A week later, Kate rang. “Polly, can I come by? I can’t keep this bottled up anymore. I want to tell you everything about Dennis’ disastrous marriage.” “Of course, Kate, just get yourself here. I’m waiting,” I said immediately. She’d stood by me through my own messy divorces—a friendship spanning many years. Kate arrived within an hour, settling into my kitchen with a glass of dry wine, a cup of proper British tea and some dark chocolate. The conversation stretched on, a long tale of heartache and life’s twists. “I never thought my ex-daughter-in-law could do something like that,” Kate recalled. “Dennis and Tanya were together for seven years. He left Annie for Tanya, and I adored Ann. She was so homely, cozy—I even called her my daughter. And then, suddenly, this glamorous Tanya showed up, and Dennis lost his head. He fluttered around her like a bee to a bright flower—such a consuming love. Annie was quickly forgotten. “To be fair, Tanya looked like a model. Dennis loved the way his mates would take notice of her, and people would turn for a second glance. But I found it odd they never had kids in all those years—they said they were waiting to do it all properly after marriage. Dennis never shared much and we didn’t pry. “Then one day, he tells us, ‘Mum, Dad, I’m marrying Tanya. We’ve put in the paperwork. The wedding will be the event of the year. No expense spared.’ We were thrilled—finally, at thirty, our boy would have an official family. “But we had to postpone the wedding twice—Dennis fell ill, then I got delayed on a work trip. I felt uneasy about it, but told Dennis nothing—he was so happy. He even wanted to get married in church, but the vicar was away and nothing seemed to line up. It felt like signs were everywhere… “We finally had the big day—just look at these photos! See the orchid? It was so lush and proud back then, the leaves all standing tall. Now it’s just limp leaves left. “After the wedding, they were meant to honeymoon in Paris. But at the airport, they got stopped—turns out Tanya hadn’t paid off a huge fine and they couldn’t leave. Dennis didn’t let it get to him—he was floating on hopes of a happy family. “But then Dennis got seriously ill, ended up in hospital, and things were grim. The doctors had little hope. For a week, Tanya visited, then told him: “‘Sorry, but I can’t handle a disabled husband. I’ve filed for divorce.’ “Imagine, Polly, how Dennis felt, stuck in that hospital bed? He answered her calmly: ‘I understand, Tanya. I won’t fight the divorce.’ “They split up. “By some miracle, Dennis recovered—thanks to Dr. Bogdan, who brought him back in six months. Through him, we met his lovely 20-year-old daughter, Maisie. At first Dennis was not interested at all—‘Too short, not my type.’ “But I told him, ‘Look closer, son. There’s more to love than looks. Better to drink water in joy, than honey in sorrow.’ “He couldn’t forget Tanya, but Maisie absolutely adored Dennis, called all the time, followed him everywhere. “We tried to bring them together, family picnic and all, but Dennis just moped about, lost in memories. Maisie hung on every word, but he didn’t notice her. “I told my husband, ‘Our matchmaking’s wasted. Dennis is still haunted by Tanya.’ “Three or four months went by. Doorbell rings—there’s Dennis, holding the infamous orchid. “‘Here, Mum—this is all that’s left of my former happiness. Do what you like with it. I don’t want this exotic thing any more.’ “I barely accepted the orchid. I hated it—as if it had brought all my son’s misfortune. Hid it away, didn’t water it. “Not long ago, a neighbour asked me, ‘Kate, I’ve seen Dennis out with a Thumbelina—your ex-daughter-in-law was prettier.’ “I didn’t believe it—but soon Dennis and Maisie showed up, married. “‘Meet my wife,’ Dennis said, beaming, holding her hand. “My husband and I stared. ‘Wait—where was the wedding? What about a party?’ “‘No need for all the fuss. We just went quietly to the registry, the vicar blessed us. Maisie and I are together, for good,’ Dennis said. “I took my son aside and asked if he really loved Maisie, or was it just revenge on Tanya. “‘No, Mum, not revenge. I got over her. As for love… well, Maisie’s world matches mine, perfectly.’ “That’s the story, Polly.” Kate had poured out her heart. …After that, we didn’t see each other for two years—life got in the way. But the orchid, under my care, bloomed more beautifully than ever—a silent thank you for the attention. When I finally met Kate again, it was outside the hospital. “Hey, old friend! What brings you here?” “Maisie just had twins—getting discharged today!” Kate beamed. Nearby stood Dennis and her husband, waiting with a bouquet of red roses. Then out came Maisie, tired but glowing, with two tiny, sleeping bundles in arms. My own daughter stood behind her, cradling my newborn granddaughter. Tanya, meanwhile, was begging Dennis to forgive her and take her back. You might be able to glue a broken cup, but you’ll never drink from it the same way again… Is the Orchid Really to Blame?

IS THE ORCHID TO BLAME? Emily, take this orchid with you, or Ill just toss it, Sarah said brusquely

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My Sister-in-Law Spent Her Holidays at a Luxury Resort While We Renovated the House, and Now She Expects to Live Comfortably with Us We Offered to Chip In Together for the House Renovation—She Refused, But Now Wants to Move In Because Her Half Is Uninhabitable. So Really, It’s Her Own Fault! The House Belonged to My Husband’s Grandmother; He Inherited It with His Sister After She Passed Away. The House Was Old, but We Decided to Renovate and Live There. With Two Separate Entrances, it Could Comfortably Fit Two Families, and the Yard and Utility Space Were Shared. Both Sides Had the Same Number of Rooms. The Inheritance Was Settled Quietly After We Married. My Mother-in-Law Immediately Declined the Property—She Preferred City Life—and Told Her Children: “Do What You Want.” My Husband and My Sister-in-Law’s Husband Saved Up to Fix the Roof and Reinforce the Foundations. When We Wanted to Continue Renovating, My Sister-in-Law Lost Her Temper—She Had No Intention of Investing in “That Old Cottage.” Her Husband Didn’t Argue and Just Left the Discussion. My Husband and I Planned to Move In. The Village Is Close to Town, We Own a Car, So the Commute Is Easy. More Importantly, We Were Tired of Cramped City Living and Longed for a Home of Our Own, But Building New Was Out of Our Budget. For My Sister-in-Law, the House Was Like a Holiday Cottage—She Planned to Visit in Summer, Maybe Host a Barbecue, but She Told Us Not to Count On Her. In Four Years, We Fully Renovated Our Half—Took Out Loans, Built a Bathroom, Installed Central Heating, Replaced All the Wiring and Windows, Even Glazed the Balcony. We Worked Nearly Nonstop to Make Our Dream Come True. Meanwhile, My Sister-in-Law Continued Her Luxury Holiday Escapades, Never Caring About Her Half or Our Work. She Lived for Herself. But Then, After Having a Baby and Going on Maternity Leave, Her Finances Tightened, and She Suddenly Remembered Her Half of the House. Caring for a Baby in a Tiny Flat Was Hard When a Large Yard and Fresh Air Were Waiting There. We’d Already Rented Out Our Old Apartment and Moved In, Never Touching Her Side. Over the Years, Her Half Fell Into Disrepair—Honestly, I Don’t Know How She Expected to Live There with No Heating or Indoor Toilet. She Arrived for a Month with Luggage and Asked to Stay With Us “Just for a Week”—I Felt I Had No Choice. Her Son Is Wildly Noisy, Just Like His Mother, Who Behaved as If She Owned the Place Without Any Consideration. Since I Work from Home, It Was Unbearable, So I Stayed at a Friend’s House For a While, Looking After Her Place While She Was Away. I Returned Nearly a Month Later, First Because of My Mum Falling Ill, Completely Forgetting My Sister-in-Law Was Still Supposedly with Us—Assuming She’d Gone Home. Imagine My Shock to Find She Was Still Living in Our Half, Acting Like It Was Hers. When I Asked When She Planned to Leave, She Responded: “Where should I go with a Small Child? I’m Fine Here.” “We’ll Take You Back to the City Tomorrow,” I Said. “I Don’t Want to Go.” “If You Can’t Even Bother to Clean Your Own Half, Go Back—This Isn’t a Hotel.” “What Right Do You Have to Throw Me Out? This Is My House Too!” “Your House Is Next Door—Go and Live There.” She Tried to Turn My Husband Against Me, But He Stood Firm—She Was Out of Bounds. She Stormed Off, Only to Have My Mother-in-Law Berate Us by Phone: “You Had No Right to Throw Her Out, It’s Her Property!” My Husband Replied, “She Could Have Stayed on Her Side—She’s the Lady There.” “How Can You Expect Her to Live There With a Baby? No Heating, Toilet’s Outside. You Should Take Care of Your Sister!” He Lost His Temper and Told His Mother the Whole Truth: We’d Offered to Renovate Together, It Would Have Been Cheaper for Both, But She Refused. Why Are We Blamed Now For Her Choices? We Then Suggested That She Sell Us Her Half. She Agreed—but At a Price That Would Buy a Fully Renovated House. We Weren’t Happy About It. Now, We’re Caught in Family Drama. My Mother-in-Law is Constantly Offended, Alina Is a Nuisance Whenever She Visits—Loud Parties, Minor Vandalism, Damaging the Shared Yard. So We’ve Started Building a Fence to Separate Our Properties Once and For All. There’s No Room for Compromise—This Is Exactly the Situation My Sister-in-Law Wanted.

So, you know how we were slogging away doing up the house, right? Meanwhile, my sister-in-law Emma was

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My Childhood Friend Came to Visit: She Chose Not to Have Children, Wanted to Live Life for Herself—Now at 60, She Shares Why She Never Regretted Her Decision

Today I met up with an old childhood friend. We’re both sixty now. When we finished university

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A Teacher Without a Wife or Children Opens His Heart to Adopt Three Orphans

When Mr Thomas Avery turned thirty, his address book listed no wife, no childrenjust a rented terraced

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Cut to the Quick… In This Family, Everyone Was Out for Themselves Dad Alex had a wife at home, but also a string of girlfriends—never the same one for long. Mum Jenny turned a blind eye to her husband’s infidelity, yet she wasn’t exactly a model of virtue herself, enjoying after-work escapades with a married colleague. Their two sons were virtually left to fend for themselves; nobody really bothered to raise them, so they mostly just drifted about. Jenny insisted that school was completely responsible for her children’s upbringing. This family only gathered in the kitchen on Sundays for a silent, rushed meal before quickly scattering to their own worlds. They kept muddling along in their own flawed, sinful, oddly sweet reality—until one day, something irreversible happened. …When the younger son, Danny, was twelve, Dad Alex took him to the garage for the first time to help out. While Danny pottered about with tools, Alex nipped off to chat with mates tinkering with their cars nearby. Suddenly, black smoke gushed from Alex’s garage, followed by flames. (Later it turned out Danny had accidentally knocked a lit blowtorch onto a petrol can.) People froze, confused. The fire raged. Someone threw a bucket of water over Alex, who dashed into the inferno. Seconds later, he stumbled out, carrying his limp son. Danny was badly burned—only his face untouched, likely protected by his hands. His clothes had melted away. Firefighters and paramedics arrived. Danny was rushed to hospital—alive, but just. He was taken straight to surgery. After agonising hours, the doctor emerged and said flatly: “We’re doing all we can. Your son is in a coma—his chances of survival are one in a million. If Danny finds an extraordinary will to live, perhaps there may be a miracle. Be strong.” Without hesitation, Alex and Jenny dashed to the nearest church. The heavens opened in a torrential downpour, but they barely noticed the storm—or anything else. They had to save their boy! Soaked through, Alex and Jenny stepped inside the chapel for the first time in their lives. Spotting the priest, they timidly approached. “Father, our son’s dying—what do we do?” sobbed Jenny. “I’m Father Simon. So—it takes a crisis to bring you here?” the priest replied, getting straight to the point. “No, not really. We haven’t killed anyone,” Alex muttered, eyes down under Father Simon’s piercing gaze. “But you’ve killed love, haven’t you? It’s lying cold between you. Where true husband and wife once stood as one, now you could lay a cedar log between you—no connection left! Ah, people… Go and pray to Saint Nicholas for your son’s recovery! Pray earnestly! But remember, everything is in God’s hands. Sometimes the Lord wakes the careless with tragedy. Otherwise, you’d never understand! Save your souls—through love, all is redeemed!” Alex and Jenny, dripping rain and tears, stood like two miserable ducklings before Father Simon, hearing truths too bitter to ignore. Father Simon pointed them to the icon of Saint Nicholas. Kneeling before the image, Alex and Jenny sobbed, prayed desperately, vowing to change their ways, abandoning all affairs and reviewing every thread of their past lives… The next morning, the doctor called: Danny had woken from his coma. Alex and Jenny sat at their son’s bedside. Danny opened his eyes and tried to smile at his parents, but the expression was etched with suffering. “Mum, Dad—promise me you’ll never split up,” he whispered. “What makes you say that? We’re together,” Jenny replied, gently stroking his hand. Danny winced. She quickly pulled back. “I saw it, Mum! And when I have children, they’ll bear your names too,” Danny murmured. Alex and Jenny exchanged worried glances. Their son must be delirious, they thought: what kids? He’s bed-bound—just surviving would be a miracle. …But from that moment, Danny began to recover. All resources were poured into his treatment; the family sold their holiday home. It was a pity the garage and car were lost to the flames—but most important, their son survived. Grandparents rallied around, doing everything they could. The family was drawn together by shared tragedy. …Even the longest day comes to an end. A year passed. Danny was in a rehabilitation centre, walking and managing on his own. There, he met a girl named Molly—his age, also a burn victim. Molly’s face had been scarred in a fire. After multiple surgeries, she avoided mirrors, afraid of what she’d see. Drawn to her quiet light, Danny found himself protective of this wise, gentle girl. They spent all their free time together, united by shared pain, courage, and favourite conversations. They had endured the same agonising treatments and now found solace in each other’s company. Time went on… Danny and Molly celebrated a modest wedding. They had two beautiful children: a daughter, Charlotte, and three years later, a son, Jack. At last, when the family seemed to find peace, Alex and Jenny decided to part ways. The ordeal with Danny had drained them; they could no longer stay together. Worn out, each yearned for their own space and some quiet. Jenny moved to her sister’s in the countryside, but visited the church to seek Father Simon’s blessing before leaving. Over the years, she had come to thank him for saving her son, but Father Simon would only say: “Thank God Himself, Jenny!” He didn’t approve of her leaving. “If you must, go and rest. Solitude is sometimes needed for the soul. But come back—husband and wife are one!” Alex stayed alone in an empty flat. Their sons, now with families, lived apart. Even visits to the grandchildren were scheduled so the former spouses wouldn’t run into each other. In short, everyone finally found their own kind of comfort…

RAW NERVE… In this household, everyone went their own way. Matthew, the father, had a fondness

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I’ve Had Enough of Uninvited Weekend Guests: How My Brother-in-Law’s Family Took Over Our Home and What I Did to Finally Get My Weekends Back

Ive honestly had enough of you turning up every single weekend! Maybe you know this particular sort of

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Like a Songbird to the Piper – A Tale of Love, Loyalty, and Life’s Unexpected Turns: Choosing Forever with One Man, Family Secrets, Sisterly Rivalry, Vanished Husbands, Temptations of Married Love, and Finding True Happiness the Second Time Around

LIKE A BIRD TO A CALLER Girls, when you get married, it should be only once. Stay with the person you

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She Thought Her Husband Had a Voracious Appetite, But It Turned Out His Sister Was Stealing All the Food

Sarah stood by the open fridge, rubbing her temples. Her husband had eaten everything again.