There are five houses in our family, and yet here we arestill shelling out for rent. Honestly, Im so
Winter Had Draped Andrew’s Garden in a Soft Blanket of Snow—But His Loyal German Shepherd, Duke, Was Acting Strangely
Instead of Curling Up in the Large Kennel Andrew Had Built with Love Last Summer, Duke Insisted on Sleeping Outside, Right in the Snow. Andrew Watched from the Window with a Tightness in His Chest—Duke Had Never Behaved Like This Before.
Every Morning, When Andrew Came Outside, He Saw Duke Watching Him Tense. Whenever He Got Near the Kennel, Duke Planted Himself Between Andrew and the Entrance, Growling Softly and Looking Up at Him as if to Say, “Please, Don’t Go In There.” This Behaviour, So Unusual Given Their Years of Friendship, Made Andrew Wonder—What Was His Best Friend Hiding?
Determined to Find Out, Andrew Came Up with a Plan—He Enticed Duke into the Kitchen with a Tempting Piece of Steak. While the Dog, Locked Inside, Barked with All His Might at the Window, Andrew Approached the Kennel and Sat Down to Peer Inside. His Heart Stopped as His Eyes Adjusted to the Darkness and He Saw Something That Froze Him in Place…
…Inside, Tucked in a Blanket, Was a Tiny Kitten—Filthy, Frozen, and Barely Breathing. Its Eyes Opened Only a Little, and Its Body Trembled with Cold. Duke Had Found It Somewhere and, Instead of Chasing It Away or Leaving It to Freeze, He Gave It Shelter. He Slept Outside So He Wouldn’t Scare the Kitten, Guarding the Entrance Like There Was Treasure Inside.
Andrew Held His Breath. He Reached In and Carefully Lifted the Tiny Creature to His Chest. At That Moment, Duke Rushed Over and Sat Close Beside Him—No Longer Growling, But Gentle and Ready to Help.
“You’re a Good Dog, Duke…” Whispered Andrew, Holding the Kitten Tight. “Better Than Many People.”
From That Day On, Not Just Two Friends But Three Lived in the Garden. And the Kennel, Built with Love, Found Its True Purpose Again—as a Little Home for Rescued Souls. Winter had transformed Williams garden into a landscape of soft white frost, but his loyal dog, Dukea
My name is Emily. When I first met her she was twentytwo, shoulders burdened with a weight too great to name.
The phone rang precisely at midday, slicing through the stillness of my waiting. I remember how I hurried
Again an envelope for them, and only a jar of pickles for us? I recall sitting at my motherinlaws kitchen
You dont love him, and things were good between us; shall we try starting anew, alright? We divorced
I first learned that her father was still alive when Olivia fell ill. Shed been feeling poorly for weeks
A Promise Today, as I drove calmly along the A3, the gently falling autumn drizzle speckled the windscreen
Aunt Margaret Im forty-seven. Just an ordinary womanone you might pass on the street and forget within minutes.
Antonia Peterson walked through the rain in tears, her sobs hidden by the downpour—at least the rain keeps my sorrow private, she thought. She blamed herself for arriving at the wrong moment, an unwelcome guest; she cried and then burst out laughing, remembering that joke where a son-in-law asks, “So, Mum, you won’t even stay for a cup of tea?” Now, she found herself living out that “mum’s” predicament—laughing and crying all at once. Returning home, she stripped off her wet clothes and curled under a blanket, finally allowed to weep openly, with only her goldfish in the round aquarium to hear her pain. Once, Antonia was admired by many men, yet things never worked out with Nikita’s father. His drinking worsened—first tolerable, then jealous and violent, even beating her in front of their child. Little Nikita described it all vividly to his grandparents; Antonia’s mother sobbed, while her father calmly sent the now ex-son-in-law flying down the stairs (with a broken arm as souvenir), vowing to protect his daughter no matter the cost. Her husband vanished, and Antonia devoted herself to raising her son, wary of new relationships despite many suitors. She built a comfortable life as a catering manager, gradually saving for a flat, and when Nikita decided to marry lovely Anastasia, Antonia gave the newlyweds the new apartment and even paid for their wedding. She continued saving for a car, reasoning that a growing family needed better than their old banger. Today, Antonia hadn’t planned to visit her son, but caught in a rainstorm near their home, she popped by hoping to wait out the weather and share a cup of tea with Anastasia. However, her daughter-in-law, surprised by the visit, coldly asked, “Is there something you want, Mrs Peterson?” Unwelcome, Antonia left tearfully. That night, she dreamt of her goldfish, grown huge and speaking: “Cry all you want, but they couldn’t even offer you tea in the rain! Why keep saving for their car? Why live only for them? You’re clever, beautiful, and independent—go live for yourself, head for the seaside!” Awakening, she understood: don’t sacrifice yourself for the ungrateful. She took her savings and booked a seaside holiday, returning rejuvenated, tanned, and transformed. Her son and daughter-in-law were none the wiser, only contacting her when they needed money or childcare. Antonia stopped avoiding men, and soon caught the eye of her restaurant’s charming manager; life sweetened, and their relationship blossomed. One day, Anastasia dropped by, hinting about a new car and asking why Antonia hadn’t called or visited. Hands crossed, Antonia replied, “Was there something you wanted, Anastasia?”—just as her new suitor appeared, inviting Antonia to tea and suggesting they welcome their guest. “No, Anastasia’s just leaving. She doesn’t drink tea, do you, Anastasia?” With a laugh, Antonia shut the door and winked at her goldfish. That’s how things are now! Antonia Peterson was walking through the rain and crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks, blending with
