A young boy awoke to the distant, muffled groans of his mother, floating through the cottage as if they
You know, I sometimes think back to how money really did buy me a younger version of myself.
A Miracle Didn’t Happen
Tanya left the hospital with her newborn son. But there was no miracle—her parents didn’t come to meet her. The spring sun was shining, she pulled her now-loose jacket tight, grabbed her bag with clothes and paperwork in one hand, adjusted her baby with the other, and started walking.
She had nowhere to go. Her parents had flatly refused to let her bring the baby home—her mother demanded she give him up. But Tanya had grown up in care herself, after her own mother abandoned her, and she’d vowed never to do the same, no matter what it cost.
She’d been adopted by a decent couple—not rich, often ill, but kind and indulgent, so she never really learned independence. Now, Tanya understood she was partially to blame for her son’s absent father; he’d seemed serious, promised to introduce her to his family, but when she told him she was pregnant, he’d said he wasn’t ready for nappies, left, and blocked her number.
Tanya sighed. “No one’s ready—not the father, not my parents,” she thought. “But I’m ready to take responsibility.” She sat on a bench, letting the sun warm her face. Where could she go? People had said there were shelters for mothers like her, but she’d been too shy to ask about them, hoping her parents would change their minds and come. But they hadn’t.
She decided to go to the countryside, to stay with her gran—she’d help out in the garden while receiving Child Benefit, and find a job later. Things would work out; grannies are usually kind. She shifted her sleepy son, pulled out her battered phone, and nearly walked in front of a car.
The driver—an older, tall man—jumped out, scolding Tanya for not watching where she was going, saying she could have killed herself and the baby and left him with jail time. Tanya, frightened and teary-eyed, comforted her now-wailing son. The man calmed down and asked where she was going. Sniffling, Tanya admitted she didn’t know.
“Well, hop in,” he said. “You and the little one can come to mine, get settled, and we’ll sort things out.” He introduced himself as Mr Constantine Gregory, and helped her in.
At his roomy flat, he offered a bedroom for Tanya and her baby and fetched essentials, refusing any money. He quickly enlisted a friendly neighbour who was a doctor; she drew up a list and called in a visiting nurse for tomorrow.
Later, Constantine Gregory confided that he’d lost his only son, Saveliy, in a tragic motorbike accident before his wedding. He’d never met his late son’s child—though he had a photo of the bride-to-be and knew she’d been expecting. “Stay here,” he urged Tanya. “You and the baby—this is your home now. I’m lonely, and would love some family around.”
Tanya agreed happily—and revealed that she’s adopted from care, her birth mother leaving only a locket on her blanket. When she emerged in new clothes, Mr Constantine Gregory noticed the locket and, upon opening it with a special mechanism, discovered a lock of his late son’s hair inside. Realising that Tanya was actually his granddaughter, he joyfully embraced her and her son, refusing any DNA test—“You’re my granddaughter, and he’s my great-grandson. Case closed.”
“Would you like to see photos of your parents?” he asked, his eyes shining with tears of happiness.
By Sofia Corall. A miracle did not occur Clara stepped out of the hospital, her newborn son bundled close. The miracle
My Husband Only Thinks of Himself—He Eats Absolutely Everything and Never Leaves Anything for Our Son!
“Adam, where have all the bananas gone?” I ask my husband.
“I ate them, I fancied some.”
“Couldn’t you have left even one for our son’s tea?”
“You’re just making a fuss. It’s not like the shops have run out of bananas.”
“Then go and get some more.”
“I’ve got a football match. How can I go?”
This is how things are in our home all the time: cottage cheese, biscuits, apples—you name it. I even have to hide food, otherwise with a father like this, my little boy might end up hungry.
We’ve been married for five years, and our son’s nearly two. We’ve got a mortgage, so money is tight. My husband claims he’s the breadwinner because he got us this home—although, in truth, he just sold his single-bed flat for the deposit, with my parents’ help. My mum thinks Adam is a selfish so-and-so, and honestly, I tend to agree.
One day, we were preparing for a birthday party. I’m cooking for the guests and he’s constantly under my feet, emptying the plates. The worst was when he got at the cake. I’d left it on the balcony because the fridge was full. I went to fetch it, and all that was left was one decorated slice of chocolate. Imagine how embarrassed I was!
This happens all the time. Sure, he works, but it’s possible to be sensible and think of others. His only excuse: “We’ll buy some more, don’t stress!” Fine, don’t think about me, but how can a father not think about his own child? Especially when we barely have enough money, and I’m counting on every bit. He can easily eat a month’s worth of food in a week.
“Why are you bothering him? He’s a man, let him eat. He earns the money. Don’t whinge, just cook more,” my mother-in-law defends him.
Thing is, no matter how much I cook, it’s never enough—he’ll eat everything. We can’t afford to just buy more, with the mortgage, the clothes, the bills.
After all this, I told my husband that if he does it again—we’re getting divorced. We’ll split the flat and go our separate ways. He took offence, ran to his mother, and now my mother-in-law isn’t even speaking to me. But I honestly think I’m right. What do you think? My husband only ever thinks of himself. He eats absolutely everything, not leaving a crumb for even the
As luck would have it, Ive always been someone who sets clear goals and goes after them. By the time
My husband’s cousin arrived. Perhaps I’m old-fashioned, and maybe things are different nowadays
He left me sitting alone at the table and dashed off to celebrate with his mates in the garage. “
Emily, youve been gone for five years now. You havent cared about how I live or whats become of me.
Ever since I was a little girl, my parents told me that no one needed me, and I was utterly useless.
My mother-in-law offered to help us with the kids during the summer. Shes recently retired and has a
