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Turning Our Daughter Away: When Tough Love Is the Only Option — A British Family’s Struggle With an Addicted Elder Sister Returning Home, Tensions, Tears, and the Fear for the Future

They Didnt Let Their Daughter In “Why didnt you let her in this time?” Victoria finally dared

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For Two Years, Maria Was Nothing More Than the Nurse for Her Mother-in-Law Maria managed to marry a highly respected English gentleman—her friends were green with envy. Her husband owned his own business, a luxurious house in the countryside, and an impressive collection of cars—all by the age of thirty-two. Maria, meanwhile, had just finished university and spent a year teaching. That summer, they wed. After the wedding, her husband insisted she quit her low-paid job, stay home, and prepare for motherhood. Maria didn’t protest. Their first year of marriage seemed a fairy tale. Maria and her husband travelled, acquiring cherished memories and expensive souvenirs. Yet Maria had nowhere to wear her new clothes. Her friends worked long hours and spent weekends with family. Her husband was constantly out at social events, never inviting her along. Maria grew bored. Unable to conceive, her feelings for her husband faded. After completing her daily chores, she wandered the empty house, wondering about her future. Another year passed. Her husband was seldom home, returning late, exhausted and irritable. He admitted business was not as successful as he’d hoped. He first told Maria to spend less, then demanded a full account of every purchase. He calculated every penny, insisting they could live well on half the money. Worried, Maria wanted to return to work but couldn’t find employment in her field. She decided to enroll in a course, but just then, her husband’s mother fell ill. Maria was expected to care for her—and did so for two years, as her husband moved his mother into their home. Maria did everything, while her husband started coming home even less. When the mother-in-law passed away, Maria’s husband became more distant, barely speaking to her and staying at work late into the night. Maria only figured out what happened after visiting her late mother-in-law’s old flat—the one she hadn’t been to in ages. Behind closed doors, she heard a baby crying. Surprised, she rang the bell. A young woman answered. Maria discovered her husband had started another family before his mother’s illness and then settled the new family into his mother’s flat. For Maria it was a shock. She knew she could never save her marriage. She left for another city to stay with her aunt, taking almost nothing—just a small handbag. She didn’t want a single item to remind her of her marriage or how badly life had turned out…

For two years, Emily was nothing but a caregiver to his mother. Emily managed to marry a very distinguished man.

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She Got My Mother-in-Law Back on Her Feet—But I’m Angry Because I Didn’t Weed the Garden Beds “What are you doing here?” My mother-in-law shouted, standing smack in the middle of the flower beds. “There’s never been such disgrace in this house! I never had to hide behind a child; I had seven—and not a single weed!” Her shout brought the neighbours running. They crowded by the fence like crows, immediately discussing everything they overheard. Seeing her audience, my mother-in-law carried on, relishing the drama. She said all sorts, and I just stood there, stunned. Finally, exhausted by her outburst, she took a breath and declared loudly enough for every neighbour to hear. I didn’t say a word. Silently, I walked past her, holding my child even tighter. Back inside, I went to the wardrobe and sorted everything my mother-in-law would need that evening and the next morning into a special box. Without folding them, I tossed my son’s things and mine into a bag. I left, without a word. Three days later, my mother-in-law rang: “What did you do with all those things the professor gave her? I asked the neighbour to buy a few things, but she said one jar is ridiculously expensive. And the ones with foreign writing? We won’t swap or spend a penny on those. So what am I supposed to do? You took off, offended at who knows what, and I’m left here to meet my maker!” I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and took out the SIM card. That’s it. I can’t go on. I haven’t a scrap of physical or mental strength left. A year ago, just before my son was born, my husband lost control of his car on a wet road. My memories are blurred—how I said goodbye at the funeral, how the ambulance came, and the next morning I became a mother. Nothing mattered. My beloved husband was gone and everything else felt pointless. I fed and rocked my baby as if on autopilot, just because that’s what I was told to do. Then one day, the phone rang: “Your mother-in-law is in a bad way. They say she won’t survive her son long.” I made my decision instantly. As soon as I was discharged, I sold my flat in London. I invested some of the money into building a new home, so my son would have something of his own one day. And I went to save my mother-in-law. This past year I haven’t lived—I’ve simply existed. I had no time for sleep, caring for both my mother-in-law and my young son. The baby was restless, and my mother-in-law needed me there round the clock. Thank goodness I had enough money. I called in the finest specialists from across the country to examine her. I bought everything they prescribed, and eventually she returned to a normal life. At first, I wheeled her around the house, then the garden. By the end, she became strong enough to walk on her own—and then… I don’t want to know her anymore or hear from her again. She can figure out whatever she needs for recovery herself. At least I was wise enough not to spend all my money on her. My son and I have moved into our new flat. I never imagined this is how things would turn out. All I wanted was to build a life with my husband’s mother, since I’m an orphan. But now I’m done. I just need to teach my son: not everyone deserves kindness. Some people care more about a weed-free garden than family.

I managed to get my mother-in-law back on her feet. But Im still cross with myself because I didnt get

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Discovering That Her Child Was Born With a Disability, His Mother Drafted a ‘Declaration of Refusal’ Eleven Years Ago – A Document That Little Sanka Came Across While Delivering Personal Files to the Medical Centre.

Dear Diary, Eleven years ago my mother, after learning that my brother was born with a disability, filled

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A Country Cottage Divided: The Daughter Who Finally Claimed What Was Hers

The Summerhouse of Disputes Daughter Reclaims Whats Hers Lizzie, youve got to understand this is a desperate

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The Carer for the Wife — What do you mean? — Lida thought she’d misheard. — Where am I supposed to go? Why? What for? — Oh, come on, let’s not have a scene, alright? — he grimaced. — What’s not clear? There’s no one left for you to care for. Where you go isn’t my concern. — Eddie, what’s wrong with you? We were going to get married… — That was all your idea. I never said I was planning anything like that. At thirty-two, Lida decided to completely change her life and leave her small town behind. What was there left for her at home? Just listening to her mum’s constant criticism? Her mother never let up, always blaming Lida’s divorce on her. As if she’d let a good husband slip through her fingers. But that Vasya wasn’t worth a kind word—nothing but a drunk and a cheat! How did she even end up marrying him eight years ago? Lida didn’t even feel upset by the divorce—if anything, it felt like she could finally breathe easy. But arguments with her mother cropped up regularly because of it. Money was another constant cause of fights—they were always short. So, off she’d go to the city and sort her life out there! Her old school friend, Susan, had been married for five years now to a widower. And so what if he was sixteen years older than her and no heartthrob—but he had a flat, and money. And Lida thought, why shouldn’t she end up as well as Susan? — Well, thank goodness! You’ve finally come round! — Susan encouraged her. — Get packed quickly, you can stay with us for a start, and we’ll sort out work. — Won’t your husband mind, Susan? — Lida hesitated. — Not at all! He does everything I ask! Don’t worry, we’ll manage! Still, Lida didn’t want to stay long at her friend’s. After a couple of weeks scraping by on her first earnings, she rented a room. Then, within a couple of months, her luck changed for the better. — What’s a woman like you doing selling veg at the market? — regular customer Mr. Edward said sympathetically. Lida had come to know all the regulars by name. — Cold and miserable—and not right either. — What else can I do? — she waved a hand. — Got to make a living somehow. Then she added, flirtatiously: — Or have you got another offer? Edward was not exactly Lida’s idea of a dream man. At least twenty years older, puffy and balding, with a shrewd gaze. He always picked through the veg, paid to the nearest penny, but dressed well, arrived in a nice car—clearly no deadbeat. He did have a wedding ring, though, so husband material he was not. — I can see you’re responsible, sensible, clean—Edward switched to addressing her more familiarly—have you ever looked after unwell people? — Once. I cared for a neighbour after her stroke—the kids lived far away, couldn’t be bothered, so they asked me. — Excellent! — he brightened, then looked rather mournful. — My own wife, Pamela, has taken ill. Stroke, too. Doc says not much hope of recovery. I brought her home, but can’t look after her myself. Will you help? I’ll pay fairly. Lida didn’t need to think long. Better a warm flat—even if it meant emptying bedpans—than ten hours in the cold serving fussy customers! And Edward even offered her a place to stay, so no rent to pay. — Three separate bedrooms! Enough space for football! — Lida reported delightedly to her friend. — No kids. Pamela’s mother—bit of a character, sixty-eight, still trying to look young—had just remarried and had her hands full. There was no one else. — Is she really that badly off? — Oh yes… Not lucky, poor thing—just lies there, can’t say a word. Unlikely to get better. — You seem almost happy about it? — Susan looked hard at her. — Of course not—Lida looked away—but when Pamela’s gone, Edward will be free… — Have you lost your mind, Lida? Wishing someone dead? All for a flat?! — I’m not wishing anyone anything—but I won’t pass up a chance! Easy for you to talk, living the good life! They had a falling out then, and it was six months before Lida mentioned her new romance with Edward to Susan. They couldn’t live without each other, she confessed—but, of course, he’d never leave his wife; not that kind of man! So lovers they’d remain. — So you two carry on while his wife’s dying in the next room? — Susan was unimpressed. — Do you even see how wrong that is? Or are you so blinded by his supposed riches? — You never say a kind word! — Lida retorted. They stopped talking again, but Lida didn’t feel guilty—well, maybe a little. Everyone likes to pretend they’re so saintly! Whoever’s never been hungry doesn’t understand the hungry, as the saying goes. She didn’t need a friend anyway. Lida cared for Pamela with all the care and responsibility she could muster. Once her relationship with Eddie began, she took over all the household chores too. A man isn’t just to be pleased in bed, she reasoned—he needs good dinners, clean shirts, a spotless flat. Lida thought her lover was content, and so was she. She barely noticed that Eddie had stopped actually paying her for nursing his wife. But when you’re almost husband and wife, who cares about money? He gave her cash for groceries, and she did what she could, not noticing how tight it was getting. After all, his salary was a good one. Well—she thought—they’d sort all that once they were married. Passion cooled with time, and Eddie was slower and slower to get home, but Lida wrote it off as him being tired out by his sick wife. From what, she wasn’t sure—he barely saw his wife—but she felt sorry for him anyway. It was expected, but Lida cried all the same when Pamela died. After all, she’d devoted a year and a half to that woman—you couldn’t just write off that time. Lida handled the funeral, since Eddie was overcome by grief, he claimed. The money he gave her was just enough, but she did her best—it was all handled respectably. No one could fault her. Even the neighbours—for all their disapproving looks about her affair with Eddie; nothing escapes them—nodded approval at the funeral. His mother-in-law was pleased too. So Lida was completely unprepared for what Eddie said next. — As you’ll understand, you’re no longer needed here, so I’ll give you a week to move out — he said curtly, ten days after the funeral. — What do you mean? — Lida thought she’d misheard. — Where am I supposed to go? Why? — Let’s not have a scene, please — he winced. — There’s no one for you to look after. Where you go isn’t my concern. — Eddie, what’s with you? We were going to get married… — That was your idea. I never planned any of that. The next morning, after a sleepless night, Lida tried again, but he just repeated himself—and urged her to pack up. — My fiancée wants to redecorate before the wedding — said Eddie. — Your fiancée? Who? — None of your business. — Oh, not my business?! Fine! I’ll go, but you’ll pay me for the work first. Yep! And don’t look at me like that! You promised £400 a week. I only got paid twice. So you owe me £6,400. — Look how quick you are with the maths! — he sneered. — Don’t get your hopes up… — And you’ll pay for my cleaning services too! I’ll be generous—just give me £10,000, and we’ll part ways. — Or what? Take me to court? You don’t have a contract. — I’ll tell your mother-in-law — Lida said quietly. — She bought you this flat, didn’t she? Believe me—once she hears, you’ll be out of a job as well. You know her better than I do. Edward’s face changed, but he quickly recovered. — Who’s going to believe you? Who do you think you’re threatening? Just get out. Now. — Three days, darling. No ten grand—big scandal, — Lida packed and went to a hostel. She’d managed to put a little aside from the housekeeping money. Four days later, without getting any response, she showed up at Eddie’s flat. And as luck would have it—his mother-in-law was there. From Eddie’s face, Lida knew he wouldn’t pay. So, she told his mother-in-law everything. — She’s making it up! Don’t believe a word! — the widower burst out. — Well, I did hear some things at the funeral—but didn’t want to believe them, — his mother-in-law narrowed her eyes. — Now it’s all clear. And I hope it’s clear to you too, son-in-law. Remember—this flat’s in my name. Eddie froze. — So here’s the deal—don’t want to see you here in a week. No, three days. She started to leave, but paused by Lida. — And you, what are you waiting for, a medal? Out! Lida rushed out. She knew she’d never see her money now. Time to head back to the market—at least there, she could always find work… Carer for the Wife: Betrayal, False Promises, and a Heartbreaking Twist in the Pursuit of a Better Life

A Nurse for the Wife What do you mean? Lucy thought she must have misheard. Move out? Where am I supposed to go?

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“We’ll Be Staying at Yours for a While, Since We Can’t Afford a Flat!” – My Friend Announced to Me I’m an energetic woman of 65, always out exploring new places and meeting fascinating people in England. I look back on my youth with both joy and sadness—back then, summer holidays could be spent wherever you fancied! You could pop down to Brighton, go camping in the countryside with friends, or cruise along any river—all for a few quid. But those days are long gone. I’ve always loved meeting new people, whether at the seaside or at the theatre, and have sustained friendships with many folks for years. One day, I met a woman named Sarah while staying at a guesthouse on holiday. We parted as friends and exchanged letters over the years. Then, unexpectedly, a telegram arrived: “The train gets in at three in the morning. Meet me!” No signature. Confused, my husband and I didn’t go anywhere. But at four a.m., there was a knock. I opened the door in shock—there stood Sarah, her two teenage daughters, their gran, and a bloke, all with heaps of luggage. My husband and I were flabbergasted, but we let them in. Then Sarah said: “Why didn’t you meet us? I sent you a telegram! Do you know how much that cost?” “Sorry, but we had no idea who sent it!” “Well, you gave me your address. Here we are.” “I thought we’d just write letters occasionally, that’s all!” Sarah explained that one of the girls had just finished school and was off to university, so the whole family had come to support her. “We’ll be living with you! We can’t afford to rent or stay in a hotel!” I was gobsmacked. We’re not family—why should we let them move in? We had to feed them all three times a day. They brought a little food, but never cooked—just ate ours, leaving all the work to me. After three days, I’d had enough and asked Sarah and her relatives to leave. I didn’t care where. That sparked a row. Sarah started smashing dishes and screaming hysterically. I was stunned by her behaviour. As they packed up, they managed to nick my dressing gown, several towels, and somehow even made off with my big cooking pot—I still don’t know how that disappeared! And so our friendship ended—thank heavens! I’ve never seen nor heard from her again. How can anyone be so shameless? Now, I’m much more wary when I meet new people.

Well be staying with you for a bit, since we havent got enough money to rent a flat! my friend announced

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Maria Spent Two Years as Nothing More Than a Nurse for Her Mother-in-Law Maria Managed to Marry a Highly Successful Man—Her Friends Envied Her. He Owned a Thriving Business, a Lavish Modern Home, Several Cars, and a Cottage in the Countryside, All by Age Thirty-Two. Maria, Fresh Out of University and Only Just Starting Her Career as a Teacher, Married Him That Summer. After the Wedding, Her Husband Insisted There Was No Need for His Wife to Work for Peanuts. He Told Maria to Stay Home and Prepare for Children—She Didn’t Argue. The First Year Felt Like a Fairytale: Travelling, Luxurious Shopping Sprees, Priceless Memories. But Maria Had No Occasions to Wear Her New Clothes—Her Friends Were Busy Working All Week and Dedicated Their Weekends to Family. Her Husband Attended Countless Events, But Never Brought Maria Along. Maria Felt Bored and Restless. She Couldn’t Conceive, Her Feelings for Her Husband Faded. After Housework Each Day, She Wandered Aimlessly from Room to Room, Wondering About Her Future. Another Year Went By. Her Husband Rarely Came Home During the Day, Returning Late—Tired and Moody. He Complained That Business Was Tougher Than He’d Hoped. First, He Told Her to Cut Back On Spending. Then He Demanded Maria Account for Every Purchase and Expense; He Insisted They Could Live Just As Well on Half. Maria Grew Anxious. She Wanted to Work Again, But No Teaching Jobs Materialised. She Signed Up for a Course, But Then Her Husband’s Mother Became Ill. For Two Years, Maria Had to Care for Her at Home, Doing Everything for Her. Her Husband Became Even More Distant—Rarely Returning Home. When His Mother Passed Away, Her Husband Grew Silent, Withdrawn. He Avoided Conversation, Rarely Came Home, Spent All His Time at the Office. Maria Was Puzzled—Until She Visited Her Late Mother-in-Law’s Old Flat, Where She Hadn’t Been in Ages. Behind Closed Doors, She Heard a Child Crying—She Thought the Place Was Empty but Rang the Bell. A Young Woman Opened the Door—Maria Learned Her Husband Had Started Another Family Even Before His Mother Fell Ill, Setting Them Up in His Mother’s Flat. For Maria, the Discovery Was Devastating. She Knew She Couldn’t Save Her Marriage. She Left For Another City To Stay With Her Aunt, With Barely Anything—Just a Small Bag—Wanting Nothing To Remind Her of Her Broken Marriage and the Life She’d Left Behind…

For two years, Mary was simply a carer for her husband’s mother. Mary managed to marry a highly

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The Unattractive Truth

The operating theatre was a blursharp crack, darkness, then more darkness. At last the gloom began to

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Grandson Not Wanted — “Mum thinks Irka’s the weak one,” my husband finally blurted out. “She needs more help, since she doesn’t have a husband. Supposedly, we’re the stable ones…” — “Stable?” Vera turned. “Slav, I put on fifteen kilos after giving birth. My back’s killing me, my knees are shot. Doctor says if I don’t start taking care of myself, in a year I won’t even be able to lift Pavlik. I need to go to the gym. Twice a week, for an hour and a half. You’re always at work, your shifts keep changing. Who am I supposed to ask to watch our son? Your mum couldn’t care less about her grandson – she’s got her precious granddaughter!” Slava said nothing. She was right—who could they ask? Vera pressed her forehead to the cool windowpane, watching the old Nissan as her mother-in-law backed out of their drive. The red brake lights flashed a farewell and then vanished around the bend. The kitchen clock read exactly seven. Nadezhda Petrovna had stayed for precisely forty-five minutes. In the living room, Slava tried to entertain their one-year-old son. Little Pavlik spun the wheel of a plastic dump truck, occasionally glancing at the door where his grandmother had just disappeared. — “She’s gone then?” Slava looked in, rubbing his aching neck. — “Flown away,” Vera corrected, not turning round. “Apparently, ‘Pashenka’ was overtired and she didn’t want to disrupt his schedule.” — “Well, he did squeal a bit when she picked him up,” Slava grimaced a smile. — “He squealed because he doesn’t recognise her. We haven’t seen her for three weeks. Three!” Vera turned sharply from the window and began stacking dirty mugs in the sink. — “Don’t, Ver,” Slava came up behind, tried to hug her, but she dodged, reaching for the sponge. “Mum just… she’s used to Lizzie. She’s four now, it’s easier with her.” — “No, Slava. She’s just more interesting to your mum. Lizzie’s Irina’s daughter. And Irina’s her favourite. And us? We’re just… there, just in the way.” Last Friday, it was déjà vu. Nadezhda Petrovna popped in ‘for a minute’, brought Pavlik a cheap plastic rattle and already eyed the door. Slava barely had time to mention he’d be out on site Saturday and could Mum watch Pavlik for a couple of hours while Vera went to the chemist and shop. — “Oh no, Slava, not possible!” Nadezhda Petrovna waved her arms. “We’re off to the puppet theatre with Lizzie, then Irina wants her all weekend. Poor girl works so hard, needs a break to sort out her personal life.” Slava’s sister raised her daughter ‘alone’—but only on paper. While Irina was ‘finding herself’ and changing boyfriends, Lizzie lived at Gran’s. Gran collected her from nursery, took her to dance class, bought painfully expensive clothes, knew all the dolls by name. — “Have you seen her status?” Vera nodded to the phone on the table. “Look what your mum posted.” Slava reluctantly picked it up and scrolled. Clips flashed by: Lizzie eating ice-cream, Gran pushing her on the swings, modelling clay together on a Saturday evening. Caption: “My greatest happiness, my joy.” — “She spent the whole weekend with them,” Vera bit her lip not to cry. “And she managed ten minutes here! Over there—it’s perfect happiness. Slava, Pavlik’s only a year old. He’s her grandson. Your son. Why is he treated like this?” Slava stayed quiet—he had no answer. He remembered last month, when Mum called in the night—her tap had burst, everything was flooding, so he dashed across town to fix it. Paid off her payday loan, so she could buy Irina a new phone for her birthday. Spent every weekend in May digging the allotment for her, while his sister and niece sunned themselves on loungers. — “Let’s ask her again,” Slava suggested. “I’ll explain, it’s about your health, not a whim.” Vera knew nothing good would come of it. *** The new conversation happened Tuesday evening. Slava put the phone on speaker so Vera could hear. — “Mum, hi. Listen, this is about Vera’s health — the doctor’s prescribed exercise for her back…” — “Oh, Slava, what gym?” Nadezhda Petrovna’s voice was bright, Lizzie giggling in the background. “She can just work out at home. She should eat fewer buns, then her back wouldn’t hurt!” — “It’s not up for debate. The doctor’s ordered it. Could you mind Pavlik on Tuesdays and Thursdays from six to eight? I’ll pick you up and bring you home.” Silence. — “Slava, you know my routine. I get Lizzie from nursery at five, we have activities, then a walk in the park. Irina’s working late, she depends on me. I can’t abandon a child just for your Vera to faff about at the gym!” — “Mum, Pasha is your grandson, too. He deserves your attention as well. You see him once a month!” — “Don’t start. Lizzie’s a little girl, she really loves me. Pasha’s just a baby, he doesn’t understand. When he’s older, we’ll bond. I’m busy now, we’re about to do some drawing. Bye.” Slava set the phone on the table, stunned. — “Did you hear that? So my son has to *earn* her attention? Reach some threshold before Gran will notice him?” — “Slava, I always knew,” Vera snapped. “From the day we left maternity, when she was two hours late because Lizzie needed new tights! It’s not for me—I don’t care what she thinks of me. But it hurts for Pashka. He’ll grow up and ask, ‘Mum, why is Gran always with Lizzie and never with me?’ What do I say? Her favourite is your aunt, and your dad’s just a free handyman and wallet?” Slava began pacing the kitchen. After ten minutes, he stopped. — “Remember the kitchen renovation for her birthday?” Vera nodded. They’d spent half a year saving for a surprise for Nadezhda Petrovna’s big day. Slava had picked out the units, found a builder, arranged a discount. The cost matched a year’s membership at the city’s best gym with a pool and a personal trainer for Vera. — “No renovation,” Slava said firmly. “I’ll call the showroom tomorrow and cancel. — “Are you serious?” Vera’s eyes widened. — “Dead serious. If my mother only has time and energy for one granddaughter, she can solve her own problems, too. Irina can sort her plumbing, fetch her veg, and cover her debts. We’ll hire you a nanny when you need the gym.” *** The next morning, Nadezhda Petrovna called herself. — “Slava, you said you’d look at my extractor fan this week? It’s broken, the kitchen’s full of smoke. And Lizzie misses her uncle, keeps asking where you are!” Before, Slava’d have already be planning a trip to the DIY store. But not now. — “Mum, I won’t be coming,” he said calmly. — “What do you mean? But the extractor! I’ll suffocate in here!” — “Ask Irina. Or her new boyfriend. I’m busy—Vera’s health comes first, so I’ll be looking after Pasha. My free time is now all for my family.” — “Over this nonsense?” Mum scoffed. “You’re choosing your wife’s whims over your own mother?” — “I’m not abandoning anyone. Just prioritising—like you. Your priority is Lizzie and Irina, mine is Pasha and Vera. Seems fair.” — “How dare you! I did everything for you! Raised you! Made you a decent man! And this is how you treat me?” — “What’s ‘everything’, Mum?” said Slava, evenly. “Helping Irina—with my money? Giving her a break while I worked your garden? Oh, and that kitchen unit we were buying you? That’s cancelled. The funds go to our family. We need a nanny, since Pavlik’s own grandma is too busy for her grandson.” Within seconds, the phone erupted: — “How DARE you! I’m your MOTHER! I gave you everything! You’re bewitched by that Vera! Lizzie’s practically an orphan, she needs me! And your Pashka’s living in luxury, rolling in comfort! Why do you think I should love him? My heart belongs to Lizzie—she means everything to me! Ungrateful! Don’t call again! Don’t dare set foot in my house!” Slava hung up. His hands shook, but he felt strangely relieved. He knew the fallout was only beginning. Now Mum would call Irina, who’d start spewing angry texts, accusing them of greed and cruelty. There’d be tears, threats, guilt trips. And that’s what happened. That evening, when he got home, Vera met him at the door. She’d already heard—her mother-in-law had left a five-minute ranting voice message, calling her, among other things, a “venomous snake.” — “Are we doing the right thing?” she whispered as they sat down. “She’s still your mother…” — “A real mother loves all her children, all her grandchildren. Not just the favourite, using the rest as resources. I let it go for years, thinking it was just her way. But when she said she didn’t care about your health or Pasha, because it clashed with ‘her Lizzie schedule’… No. That’s enough.” ** The row dragged on. Irina and her mother, deprived of their regular handouts, clogged Slava and Vera’s phones—insulting, begging, threatening, trying every emotional lever. They held firm, ignored calls, deleted messages. Two weeks later, Irina turned up in person. She started shrieking on the doorstep, called her brother a “spineless ingrate” and demanded he pay Mum’s bills and fork out for her shopping and medicine. Slava simply closed the door in her face. He’d had enough of being the “dutiful son”.

Mum thinks that Emmas a bit weak, my wife finally got out of me. She reckons we have to help her more