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It doesnt look right that your children will have homes of their own, while my son wont. Lets sort him

Make Some Room, We’ll Be Living Here for About Ten Years

Make Space, Well Be Living Here for Ten Years My mother-in-law paused for a moment, then declared, Oh

We’re Moving Into Your Flat — Olivia’s got a gorgeous flat in the city centre. Just had a makeover, it’s a dream place! — Perfect for a single girl, — Rustam smiled patronisingly at Anna, as if she were a child. — But we want a big family — two, no, even three kids. One after another, if possible. It’s noisy in the centre, there’s no fresh air, no parking. And the worst part — only two rooms. But here — three! Quiet neighbourhood, plus a nursery right in the courtyard. — It is a wonderful area, — agreed Sergei, still not quite grasping where his future brother-in-law was going with all this. — That’s why we settled here. — Exactly! — Rustam snapped his fingers. — I keep telling Olivia: why cramp ourselves when there’s a perfect solution right in front of us? The two of you and your daughter have too much space here. What do you need all these rooms for? You barely use one of them — it’s a glorified storage cupboard! For us, though — it’s ideal. Anna tried to wedge the vacuum cleaner into the impossibly narrow hallway cupboard. The vacuum battled back, snagging its hose on hangers and steadfastly refusing to fit in its designated home. — Sergei, help me out, will you! — she called toward the next room. — Either the cupboard’s shrunk or I’ve forgotten how to pack things away. Sergei poked his head out from the bathroom — he’d just finished fixing the tap. Calm, a bit slow-moving, he was everything his sprightly wife wasn’t. — Give it here, Anna. We’ll sort it out. He deftly grabbed the heavy machine and slotted it effortlessly into a corner. Anna gave a sigh of relief and leaned against the doorframe. — Tell me, why do we always run out of space? Three rooms, feels like a mansion, but every time we tidy up, it looks like we should just haul everything outside. — It’s your hoarding tendencies, love, — Sergei grinned. — Why do we need three dinner sets? We only use one and a half per year. — Leave them. They’re keepsakes. It’s grandmother’s flat, after all. After the wedding, Sergei’s parents split the inheritance fairly: He got this spacious three-bed in a quiet spot — granny’s old place; his sister Olivia the chic two-bed smack in the “golden square” of the city centre. Moneywise, it balanced out. Five years, everyone got on; nobody was jealous. Anna had naively thought it would always be this way, but… *** Spring-cleaning finished, chaos conquered, they slumped on the sofa. The TV went on. The doorbell rang almost instantly. Sergei went to answer. — It’s my sister and her boyfriend, — he called over his shoulder. Olivia flitted cheerfully through the door; behind her, lumbered Rustam. Anna had only met him twice: Olivia had picked him up at the gym six months ago. Rustam had never impressed — pompous and faintly disdainful. He always looked down his nose at both Anna and Sergei. — Hiya! — Olivia pecked her brother’s cheek and hugged Anna. — We were just passing and thought we’d pop in! And, big news! — Well, don’t just hover in the hall. News is always good, — Sergei gestured kitchen-ward. — Tea? — A glass of water, if that’s okay, — Rustam plodded in. — We’ve got something important to discuss, Sergei. They hadn’t just been ‘passing’. There was an agenda. Skip the tea — let’s get to business. Anna’s stomach knotted at Rustam’s tone. What is he up to? — Go on then, — Sergei said, shrugging. Olivia busied herself with her phone, left the talking to her fiancé. Rustam cleared his throat. — Here’s the thing. Olivia and I are engaged. Wedding’s in three months. It’s serious. Family and all that. We’ve taken a hard look at our living situation… We’ll move in here, and you can move into Olivia’s flat! Anna was gobsmacked. She stared at her husband, then at her sister-in-law, who kept scrolling as if the conversation had nothing to do with her. — Rustam, I’m not sure I follow, — Sergei frowned. — What exactly are you suggesting? — I’m not suggesting, I’m offering a practical, constructive solution. Let’s swap! We move here; you move into Olivia’s flat. Olivia’s on board with this — we both think it’s only fair. Anna was gobsmacked all over again. — Fair? — she repeated. — Rustam, are you serious? You waltz into our home and suggest we move out, just because you want to have kids? — No need to overreact, Anna, — Rustam grimaced. — I’m being realistic. You have one child, and as far as I know, you’re not planning on any more. So why cling to all this extra space? It’s wasteful. And we — we have plans. — Plans! Did you hear that? — Anna leaped up from her seat. — Sergei, he expects us to just uproot our life because it suits him! Sergei held up his hand for quiet. — Rustam, maybe you’ve forgotten that this flat was a gift from my parents, just as Olivia’s was for her. We spent five years doing it up, every skirting board picked by us. Our daughter’s growing up here — her room, all her friends. And you want us to just pack everything up and move to the centre because it’s more convenient for you? — Come on, mate, — Rustam slouched back in his chair. — We’re family. Olivia’s your blood sister. Aren’t you even a tiny bit concerned about your sister’s future? I’m offering an equal swap — you’d have a flat in a prime location, probably more valuable, actually. — This is a laugh, — Sergei snorted. — You’re not even married to my sister yet and you’re already after my flat! Olivia finally looked up from her phone. — Oh honestly, — she whined. — Rustam’s only thinking of what’s best. We really will be cramped in my place with kids around. And you’ve got that huge corridor — big enough for a football pitch. Mum always said, ‘Family comes first’. Did you forget? — Mum said ‘help each other’, Olivia, not that one should chuck the other out of their home! — Anna snapped. — Do you even hear yourself? — He’s got a point, — Olivia batted her lashes. — We’d make better use. — It’s not spare! — Anna nearly yelled. — That’s my office! I work in there, remember? — Work, — Rustam snorted. — Uploading pictures to the internet? Olivia told me, that’s just a hobby. Just use the kitchen table. Not like you’re some CEO. Sergei stood up, slow and steady. — That’s enough, — he said quietly. — Please see yourselves out. Both of you. — Sergei, calm down, mate! — Rustam didn’t budge. — We’re just trying to talk things through, like a family. — Family? — Sergei stepped forward. — You stroll in here asking for my flat, insult my wife, and presume where my daughter should grow up? Do you even hear yourself? — Oh please, Sergei! — Anna moved to stand by her husband. — He’s not thinking about anyone but himself. Barely put a ring on Olivia’s finger and already carving up the inheritance! Olivia, do you realise the sort of bloke you’ve brought home? He’ll be the first to kick you out of your own flat! — Don’t talk about him like that! — Olivia barked back. — Rustam cares about our future! And you two… you’re just obsessed with your precious flat. So selfish. Some family! — The only selfish one here is your fiancé, — Sergei jabbed a finger at the door. — Let me spell it out: out. And forget the whole swap idea — ever bring it up again, and we won’t be talking at all. Rustam stood up, straightened his collar. Annoyed, not embarrassed. — Big mistake, Sergei. I thought we could do this sensibly. Clearly you’re not open to reason… Olivia, let’s go. When the door slammed, Anna flopped onto the sofa, shaking. — Did you see that? Did you? The nerve! Who does he think he is? Sergei said nothing. He stood at the window, watching as Rustam strode to his car, barking irritably at Olivia. — The worst bit? — he said eventually. — Olivia honestly thinks he’s right. She’s always been a little… naive. But this? — He’s got her totally brainwashed! — Anna shot up. — We need to ring your mum. Your parents need to know what their future son-in-law’s up to. — Wait, — Sergei pulled out his phone. — I’ll ring Olivia. Just her, no peacocks hovering behind. He called, rang for ages, then Olivia answered — crying. — Hello, — she sniffed. — Olivia, listen carefully, — Sergei’s voice was cold. — Are you in the car with him now? — What does it matter? — If he’s with you, put me on speaker. I want him to hear too. — He’s not. He dropped me off at the flat and drove off. Apparently my family are “selfish to the core”. Sergei, why can’t you just help us? He only wants what’s best… — Olivia, wake up! — Sergei nearly shouted into the phone. — He tried to blackmail us out of our home! Did you even realise this is your inheritance, your home? And he’s already making plans for it. Did he even mention this swap before today? Silence. — No, — she whispered. — He just said he had a surprise for everyone, a brilliant solution. — Some surprise. Decided your future for you—without even asking. Olivia, do you know what you’re getting yourself into? He’s a total freeloader. Today it’s your flat; tomorrow it’s your car’s too small, and by next week, he’ll want your parents’ holiday cottage signed over, because “he needs fresh air”. — Don’t say that… — Olivia’s voice shook. — He loves me. — Love? He just tried to turn us all against each other! Anna’s still in shock. He played us off; that’s what he did. — I’ll talk to him, — Olivia said uncertainly. — You do that. And think seriously before you walk down the aisle. Sergei hung up and tossed his phone onto the sofa. — What did she say? — Anna whispered. — She didn’t know. It was all Rustam’s “surprise”. Anna gave a bitter laugh. — Typical. Comes strutting in, shuffling people around like chess pieces. Flats here, people there. Ugh, makes my skin crawl. — Don’t worry, — Sergei assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. — We’re not giving up this flat. Not a chance. But I feel bad for my sister. She’s heading for a train wreck. *** The worst didn’t happen. The wedding never came to be. Rustam left Olivia that very evening. Tear-stained, she showed up at Sergei’s in the night to explain. He’d come over, packed up, and announced he wasn’t marrying into a family of “misers”. — He said, “those kind of family aren’t worth having,” — Olivia sobbed. — Said we’d never help with the children or watch them on weekends so they could get a break. And we wouldn’t give them money if they asked. — Oh Olivia, don’t waste a tear, — Anna protested. — You don’t need a man like that! He’d never put you first. Family means nothing to him unless he gets something out of it. Good riddance! Olivia moped for a few months, then seemed to move on. Hindsight kicked in later. How had she not spotted her fiancé’s true colours sooner? If she’d married him, she’d have been miserable for life. Clearly, fate was looking out for her.

Were Moving Into Your Flat “Pollys got a lovely flat in the centre. Its just been redone, all freshyou

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You’re Just a Nobody to Him

Maybe its time I finally meet your son? David set his mug of tea aside and looked at Amelia.

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Bittersweet Joy – Why Does This Girl Not Suit You? She’s a Good, Kind, Tidy, Studious Girl Who Loves You, Elena Chided Her Son Denis. After a String of Relationships, He Still Searches for Love, Until an Unexpected Encounter Brings Unlikely Happiness, Three Stepchildren, and a Daughter with Down Syndrome – A Story of Bittersweet, Enduring Love

BITTERSWEET HAPPINESS Whats wrong with this young lady then? Shes a good girl. Modest, keeps things tidy

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My True Wife – The Secret to Staying Together for Decades: My Brother’s Question, A Marriage Tested by Betrayal, Broken Porcelain Statues, and a Long-Awaited Act of Forgiveness That Spanned a Lifetime

MY TRUE WIFE How on earth have you managed to stay married to the same woman for all these years?

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“It Doesn’t Look Good That Your Children Will Have Homes While My Son Won’t—Let’s Buy Him a Flat With a Mortgage!” Recently, my husband Anthony pointed out that my children have homes, but his son doesn’t—so we need to figure out how to get his son a flat, too. For context: my children are our children together, while Anthony’s son is from his first marriage. Why should it be my responsibility to worry about getting a home for his son? Of course, I’ve always known Anthony was previously married and had a child, which is partly why I wasn’t in any rush to marry him. We lived together for three years before tying the knot. I watched carefully how he felt about his ex-wife and his child. A year after marrying, we had our own son. Two years later, our second son. I’m happy with Anthony as a husband and as a father—he’s devoted time to me and our children and is a good earner. Naturally, we have the odd spat, but what family doesn’t? We lived in the flat I inherited from my father after my mother divorced him when I was little. Mum remarried but had no more children. Anthony and his ex-wife always rented, saving for a mortgage that never materialised. After their divorce, Anthony continued renting on his own, while his ex-wife moved back with her parents. When we married, Anthony moved in with me. We never focused on whose name was on the flat—we just did home improvements and shared everything. But about a year and a half ago, both my grandmothers passed away and left me their flats as well. While my boys are still young, I decided to rent those flats out. Later, each son will get a flat. Rental from one goes to help mum’s pension, the other supplements my salary. Anthony never interfered with my flats—they’re nothing to do with him. From the start, I told him clearly: one day, each of our sons gets a flat. He agreed, and that was that. Suddenly, Anthony comes out with: “My son finishes secondary school soon. He needs to start thinking about his future!” At first I didn’t know where he was going with this, but I listened. “Your kids have homes! My son doesn’t! Let’s buy my boy a flat with a mortgage!” Anthony blurted out. I was stunned! So many questions. Firstly—since when are our children only mine? Anthony asked me not to nitpick his words. “But my son will never inherit anything. I want him to have his own home!” “It’s great you care! But he has two parents—shouldn’t both be responsible for that? Why isn’t your ex-wife handling this?” Anthony tried explaining—his ex earns little and relies on her parents, and he simply can’t afford a mortgage alone. But if I help, we can manage it. He wants us to agree to a mortgage for his son, with the flat in his son’s name, and us footing the bill. “We both have good salaries, plus rental income—it’ll work!” Anthony insisted. We could just about manage, but we’d have to tighten our belts—a lot. Anthony pays child support, and when his son goes to university, he’ll help even more, since his ex can’t support him. So because of his son, our family will miss out: no nice holidays, no trips to the seaside—we’ll be scrimping on everything. All so Anthony looks like a great dad? I could understand if Anthony was the one who had provided flats for our kids and now wanted to do the same for his eldest. But that’s not the case—I provided those homes. Anthony has nothing to do with them. Why should I pay for his son’s mortgage? I told Anthony straight—if he’s so worried, let his ex take out the mortgage, and she can pay it with child support. “But I won’t be getting involved!” I said. Now Anthony’s furious with me and hasn’t spoken to me in a week. It’s such a shame he can’t see my point.

It doesn’t seem quite right, does it, that your children will each have a flat, and my son wont?

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Recently, I Met a Woman Taking a Stroll With Her Eighteen-Month-Old Daughter, Completely Lost in Thought—Her Story of Family Struggles and the Challenges of Parenthood in Modern Britain

Not long ago, I came across a woman strolling along the lane with her eighteen-month-old daughter, adrift

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Worn Down by Family: The Night the Strongest Man in the Village, Steve Johnson, Came to My Countryside Surgery Looking for Help—A Quiet Tale of Tears, Tea, and Learning to Care in an English Country Home

Fed Up with My Wife and Mother-in-Law That evening, the quietest, most steadfast man in our little village

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Changed His Mind About the Wedding Archie spent long evenings in his laboratory, endlessly pouring mysterious liquids from one test tube to another and analyzing powders, steadfast in his belief that his diligent work would soon yield a breakthrough—a unique product extracted from the roots of a rare plant. At forty, the enthusiastic scientist was so absorbed in his research that he hardly noticed the admiring glances of young Sophie, the new cleaner at the institute. Driven by dreams of scientific fame, Archie was oblivious to the quiet hours Sophie spent leaning on her mop, watching him from the doorway. But one evening, Sophie plucked up her courage: “Mr. Archie Glen, you’ve been glued to that chair since morning. Fancy a cup of tea? I happened to bring my kettle—and some homemade sausages my mum sent from the village.” At the mention of sausages, Archie paused, intrigued. As Sophie fetched her container, Archie, the ever-thorough scientist, asked: “How long’s the food been in your rucksack today?” Flustered, Sophie replied, “Since this morning, but the changing room’s chilly—heating’s not even on yet!” Archie hesitated, worrying about food safety and microbial growth, yet the aroma eventually got the better of him. He found the sausage irresistible, and even complimented Sophie, who beamed with pride. Their unlikely friendship blossomed into an awkward romance. Archie, who had never paid women much mind in his forty years, now found himself distracted from his formulas and even plagued by scandalously vivid dreams about Sophie. Before visiting Sophie’s family, Archie made every effort: dressing up smartly, dabbing cologne, and letting Sophie tweeze out his grey hairs while he nervously anticipated meeting her mother. But from the moment they arrived at Sophie’s ramshackle countryside home, disaster struck. Her mother was hostile, appalled at Archie’s age, and deeply suspicious, while Sophie’s handsome young stepfather did nothing to ease the tension. Accusations flew, arguments erupted, and poor Archie fled the house as a chair whizzed by his ear—only to get lost in the snowdrifts and suffer a blood pressure spike. After a hectic scene involving a village paramedic, Archie realized he had landed in a world as unpredictable as it was uncomfortable. When Sophie tried to patch things up, Archie discovered his enthusiasm for rustic romance had well and truly vanished. Back in London, Archie was coldly polite, settling back into old habits—counting up food expenses, paying Sophie as a housekeeper, and sending her home after work with firm words and barely a glance. Whatever ideas he’d had about marriage had been thoroughly extinguished. He wasn’t getting married after all.

Changed His Mind About Getting Married Arthur spent long hours in his lab, endlessly transferring liquids