Its your duty to pay for me, just as my father did. I have every right to it! Poppy decided to buy some socks.
Martin, did you find the posh dinner set? You know, the one with the gold trim, not the everyday plates.
I still remember that bitter winter many years ago, when I was a young bus driver on the little route
Dear Diary, I stood at the kitchen sink, my hands submerged in the cold water, while the evening dusk
31 March I smiled at my motherinlaw, All right, lets do a DNA test, I said. And you should have your
There Are No Coincidences
Four years had passed since Agatha’s mother died, but the bitterness and unbearable longing remained vivid in her memory. She could not forget the night after the funeral—the oppressive silence in their large, sturdy English house, her father John hollow-eyed with grief, Agatha weary from crying. At sixteen, she understood how hard it was for both of them—once, all three had been so happy.
Time moved on. Agatha qualified as a paramedic and recently began working at the local NHS surgery. She lived alone now; her father had remarried a year ago and moved to a neighbouring village with his new wife, Kate. She held no grudge against him—life had to go on. One day, stepping off the bus in her best dress and shoes, Agatha made her way to her father’s for his birthday—the only family she had left.
“Hi, Dad!” she smiled and hugged him on the doorstep, handing over her gift. They entered the house, where a tightly-set Kate greeted her in the kitchen. Kate’s own daughter, Rita, thirteen and sharp-tongued, and ten-year-old son, were already there, picking at the food. Agatha rarely visited—they were all but strangers.
After the meal and customary questions about Agatha’s new boyfriend and wedding plans, Kate abruptly announced, “Your father and I have decided he won’t be supporting you financially any more. He’s got a big family now and needs to take care of us. It’s time you stood on your own feet.”
Her father tried to interject, but Kate cut him off. Feeling awkward and unwanted, Agatha escaped outside to collect herself, only to be joined by the smirking Rita: “Don’t be too hard on Mum—she’s tense because she’s pregnant. But you’ll get to know her soon enough.” With a sneer, Rita darted back inside.
Soon after, Agatha was surprised by an unexpected visit from her father and Kate. Kate scouted the house and said meaningfully, “Lovely home—quite a rarity in this village.” It became clear: they’d come to talk about selling it.
Agatha stood her ground. “I’m not selling my share. I grew up here. I won’t do it.”
Kate hissed, furious. “You take up far too much space for just one person. Move out and make room—you’re no longer his priority.”
Agatha’s heart ached. Her father had a right to happiness—but not at her expense. The house meant everything to her.
Later, her boyfriend, Tom—a police officer—found her in tears, and she told him the whole story. “Don’t give in,” he advised. “Your dad’s a good man, just led astray. We’ll get legal advice.”
Meanwhile, her father started to doubt his new marriage—Kate had become obsessed with getting the house sold, especially after announcing her pregnancy.
One evening, as Agatha walked home from work, a car pulled up beside her. A burly stranger shoved her inside, threatening her: “Sign the papers and sell your house—or else. Do as we say and no one gets hurt.”
Panic gave way to hope as police sirens flashed behind them. Tom had arranged for a friend to keep an eye on Agatha on her late journeys home. The police intervened just in time—the thug was revealed to be Kate’s lover and the father of her unborn child; together, they had plotted to steal the house.
With everything unravelled, her father divorced Kate and returned home, building a small parts business for himself. Now, evenings were warm and lively again at the family table: John, Agatha, and Tom. The walls of that cherished English house seemed more precious than ever.
“Don’t worry, Dad—you won’t ever be alone,” Agatha laughed. “We’re getting married, but we’ll always be nearby.” John wiped away tears as he looked at a photo of his late wife. “Forgive me for everything,” he whispered.
“It’s all right, Dad,” Agatha smiled. “Everything is as it should be. And it’s going to get even better.”
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